#i religiously watched far far away idol as child

[a-walking-fandom-reference]

obsessed with buddie’s karaoke song being the song shrek and fiona sang together in the shrek 2 far far away idol short

[tales-unique]

FAITH, LOST

Chapter 1

Sheltered, that was your life. You had been born in the village and knew nothing of the world that lay beyond its borders. There were days that you would gaze up at the snow covered mountains and wonder, but ultimately give up. You know you would never have the nerve to leave everything behind. Not that you had much of a choice in the matter.

Cloistered by overprotective parents, your mother and father had raised you to be a respectable, religious woman, devoted to Mother Miranda and the four Lords under her command. Your faith was central to your being and, as your mother would often tell you, you would be rewarded for such candor in due time. Yet, as time went on and you bloomed into a young woman, you began to question when your time would come. Many friends had been taken from you in service of Mother Miranda and, despite your unwavering loyalty, you could feel envy seeping into your heart. Your faith never faltered, you never once spoke out against her wishes, and still you were not chosen. You're on your knees, giving praise and thanks at the altar when the church bells ring, summoning all the faithful to the Chapel. Moving with purpose you hurry to join the congregation, their numbers fewer than there were last time as a result of the Lycan attacks, smoothing down your simple dress as you take your place inside. There Mother Miranda stands in all her holy glory and you feel your chest swell with awe and pride. It had been years since your parents were taken but you felt nothing but happiness that they had gone on to serve such a revered and holy idol. You smile up at her in awe and wonder as she speaks to you all, arms open wide in welcome. She praises your commitment and resolve to follow the faith and calls on you all to offer another to her cause. In your ignorance you desperately pray to be chosen, but your voice is drowned out by the cacophony of the other devotees. But when all seems lost you look up, tears in your eyes, to see Mother Miranda looking directly at you. "You, child," she beckons you forward with a gentle flourish of her hand. Mother Miranda is speaking directly to you . You feel as though you're dreaming as you walk the aisle, coming to kneel before her. Your eyes never leave her, overcome with euphoria. She looks at you lovingly and touches your cheek with a gentle hand, your lashes fluttering. "Yes, you're perfect," she smiles, raising her arms like the Virgin herself as she addresses the others that you are the she will be taking. Finally your steadfast devotion rewards you after all these years. You grin in naive excitement at the congregation, who clap and smile and praise her name. But it doesn't reach their eyes. They are envious of you but are trying their utmost to appear virtuous before Mother Miranda. They have no idea that it’s them who are the lucky ones. Like those who have been taken before you, Mother Miranda gently covers your eyes with a silken handkerchief, rendering you blind and reliant on the firm grasp on your shoulder as she guides you to a destination unknown. The temperature drops and you feel uneven ground give way to hard stone beneath your feet and you feel unease settling in your bones. You haven't ventured far from the village, given the threat of the Lycans, Vampires and other things that plague your home, but you hold fast to your belief in Mother Miranda and that she wouldn't lead you astray. Suddenly, you're gripped by something strong and heavy, forcing you to a standstill. Instinct kicks in and you try to fight, to run, to do anything to get away, but it’s futile as your feet skid uselessly in the snowy dirt. Hands roughly grasp your hands and pull your arms out straight and gasp sharply when you feel a sudden cold biting at your wrists. Something cold, heavy and binding. Panic clouds your mind as you try to pull your hands free, turning this way and that when you no longer feel the comforting weight of her hands guiding your shoulders. Suddenly you’re let go, the attacking presence leaving you, and you try to catch your bearings. "Mother Miranda? Mother Miranda!" You cry out desperately and when you receive no reply your panic multiplies. Shivering, you strain to hear anything that gives away where you are or who is out there with you. When you hear nothing of value a strangled cry leaves you as the anxiety that this could be your death weighs heavily on you. You have no idea that this is exactly what she wants. "This way, child!" Her voice is a beacon in the darkness and you turn quickly to where you perceive her to be, only to be thrust into dizzying vertigo as your foot teeters on the edge of nothingness. You scream, scrambling back so quickly that you stumble and fall. You grunt with pain at where you land against the snow lined steps, blinking owlishly when light suddenly blinds your vision. In your haste the silken handkerchief, your makeshift blindfold, has been pushed down. It hangs limply around your neck while you blink to adjust to the light. "Oh God," you whimper, finally seeing just how close to the edge you had been. The village is a beautiful vista before you, the snow-laden ground glittering in the sunlight, but the danger is far too real for you to be able to admire it. The cold is still bracing as you quickly scramble to your feet and you realise as you struggle that your wrists are locked together in iron shackles. Confusion blooms within you, your brow creasing as you stare down at the unforgiving metal. Had you not shown Mother Miranda that you were completely devout? That you were willing to give her your very life if she asked it of you? Maybe you were being punished. Your blood runs cold at the thought. Determined to prove otherwise you venture up the steps with vigor, bracing against the cold. At the top you are confronted with an old, dilapidated Church not dissimilar to the one inside the village. You feel drawn to it, hurrying towards the large, wooden doors. Pushing them open doesn't take much effort, given how rotten they are, and you quickly enter to seek shelter from the cold. "At last, the little mouse finds her way." "It's about damn time!" "She made it! She made it!" "Look, she's here, Mother!" The voices talk over one another and you recognize them instantly; the four Lords of the village. "Welcome, child," Mother Miranda smiles at you from the raised platform at the head of the Church, "I'm so glad that you made it." "Mother Miranda, m-my Lords," you stutter, partly from the cold, quickly dropping to your knees and bowing your head out of respect. At your side a strange and terrifying doll dressed in a ratty white wedding dress skitters about, giggling maniacally and clapping her little, chipped porcelain hands. "Oh, you're very pretty! I like this one, Mother! Can I have her? Please, pretty please?" She chatters excitedly, screeching when she's pushed aside. "No, Mother, I should have this one! You promised!" Whines the grotesque, hunched monster, staring at you with glassy eyes. You know of Lord Moreau, from the Reservoir, as you recall his picture on the altar, just like Lady Beneviento and her sinister doll from her secluded mountain top estate. You whimper despite your best intentions, not wanting to offend, feeling your body sag slightly in relief when Mother Miranda waves her hand and forces them to leave you be. You blink up at her, tears stinging your eyes. You don't understand what is happening and you're afraid. "What a fragile little thing," a giant of a woman scoffs from where she sits off to the side, watching you with piercing gold eyes. She takes a deep drag from her cigarette, allowing the pale smoke to billow from her crimson lips as she observes you. You feel like an animal being paraded at auction, nothing at all like the splendor told to you in earnest by other members of the congregation. "Mother Miranda I must insist that I take her. My daughters are in need of a maid and some new entertainment , and this one looks so delightfully fresh ." The grin she gives betrays her predatory nature, shining through her beautiful and regal facade. Lady Dimitrescu, the Countess of Castle Dimitrescu, and one of the more revered Lords. You swallow nervously, recoiling meekly under her gaze, though it does little to help. You can’t escape her intimidating stare. The last is Lord Heisenberg, who lounges silently on a pew opposite Lady Dimitrescu. You know little of him, but you know his scarred face well from his picture on the altar. He radiates an aura of discontent and malice, no doubt finding this all a waste of time from the way he scowls when he looks at you. You would never have thought Mother Miranda would choose someone like him to be a Lord, given how little regard he seems to give the whole affair, but looks are often deceiving here. "Heisenberg," Mother Miranda speaks, her voice taut, "have you no say?" "What? Her ?" He points to you with his cigar, a booming laugh rolling off his tongue as he stands. He sets down the large hammer he had slung across his shoulder with ease, your form jumping at how its weight splinters the wood of the floor with ease. "She wouldn't last a minute on my table," he drawls, stepping up to you. He stoops to regard you and on impulse you try to retreat from him. The attempt fails and he grabs your jaw roughly in his hand, jerking your head this way and that as he examines you. The leather of his glove is rich and smooth, the scent of gun oil and smoke tantalizing your senses. "Oh you ignorant fool!" Lady Dimitrescu hisses, a wicked snarl on her lips, "she wouldn't be a test subject! She would be a servant !" "Why the fuck would I need a servant? All she'd do is get in the way!" Heisenberg snaps back, knocking you down with how roughly he shoves you away. He squares up to where the Vampire sits and Lady Dimitrescu is quick to rise to this blatant display of arrogance and disrespect. Her lips, painted a beautiful crimson, split to bare her teeth in a vicious hiss. “You wouldn’t know the first thing of what to do with her, you pathetic child !” She spits, “but then again, what would you know about having taste in staff in the first place?” “Oh, we know all about you tastes , you overgrown b—” "ENOUGH!" Your mouth hangs open and your eyes widen at the sight of Mother Miranda in all her splendor. Three pairs of magnificent, raven black wings extend from her back as she puts a swift end to the petty squabbling. Extending a hand out she motions for you to rise, an almost maternal smile upon her face. You don't know why a sudden sinking feeling of dread settles like a lead weight in your stomach, only that something sinister lingers as yet unseen. "My dearest one," she coos, taking your face gently in her hands when you stand before her. Her fingers are tipped in gold claws and are cold to the touch as they smooth over your cheeks. The black feathers shift ever slightly and you see more glimpses of the beautiful face of Mother beneath her gilded cage headdress. "You have been so loyal to me and my children, I know that you will be the perfect choice for this task." You swallow, suddenly feeling insignificant under the gazes of the Lords despite the uplifting words. Her hands, still tender in their endeavor, fall to your arms. She turns you gently, guiding you to your fate. The shock in the room is palpable when you are set in front of Heisenberg.

[oskarwing]

I really wanna talk about the parent child relationships in Midnight Mass

I’m not sure if I’m good at writing this sorta Meta but here goes nothing. Very many spoilers follow.

Let’s start with the adults: 

First we have Erin who suffered so much at the hands of her mother and later because of her mother’s abuse. We don’t get much detailed info on Peggy Greene but from what we can gather she was a lot like Beverly Keane, who seemed to idolize her (though that probably got easier for her after Peggy was gone), in her self-righteous over-pious manner. She just happened to be Beverly with an alcohol problem and a daughter who she could take all her anger at life for not working out her way for God loving her just the same as everybody else out. The dove scene is really such a good scene. But Erin was stronger than her mother, stronger than the abuse that was about to repeat itself and when she found out that she would have a child of her own she left and tried her best to give her kid a better life than the one she had. And she found the strength I think with the help of the same God her mother most likely used as legitimation for her abuse (don’t get me wrong I believe it was Erin’s own strength but she also clearly found something in religion that helped her gather it) and it helped her to carve out a path for herself and her unborn child.  

Sarah’s relationship to her parents is such an interesting one because we get to see the end of it. The man who she believed to be her father has been dead for a long while and her mother is suffering through the late stages of dementia. And Sarah showed up for it. As a doctor she most likely knew what would be happening as soon as Mildred started to show the first symptombs but she wasn’t going to leave her mother. That kind of care for an elderly parent shows something that is proven in Mildred’s character time and time again: She is a very devoted parent and the love between mother and daughter flows both ways in every scene they are in together, after the birth of her daughter her world turned around Sarah and she loved her with all she had. There are a few scenes that show that Mildred’s understanding of the duty she felt towards her family came from the old values of her time. She wouldn’t have taken off with John and their child not for a lack of love but because in those times, in catholism still at least where I’m from, you can’t just marry a priest. You can’t just have a child with a priest eventhough you’re married and then fuck off with him. As a woman, as a wife and mother you have to stand with your husband, stand with your child and you have to stop running after fantasies I’m sure Mildred had. I’m saying this all from her perspective btw, I don’t necessarily think running away with John, in the way he wished to, would have been good for Sarah but honesty might have been and her old fashioned values were also what kept her from being truly honest with her daughter.  To John on the other hand Sarah is a fantasy, a dream he couldn’t reach. His daughter, his baby, so close and yet so far away getting to watch her grow into an adult but never being able to really be her father as in her Dad instead of her priest. And it’s painful to him, he clearly loved Mildred, loved Sarah but he was also kinda selfish in his love that in the end took Sarah away. At first he isolated his child by starring at her giving her the creeps and the feeling that she had done something wrong that he knew she was gay and dissaproved and then he took it upon himself to ‘cure’ Mildred in the same way he was. Sarah wanted to take care of her mother wanted to be there for her in those final months and John decided it was up to him to give Mildred a youth potion to make it so she’d never die. And with that he took away from Sarah what is without doubt a hard but for many people a very important last part of the relationship between child and parent. John was a complicated man and would maybe have been a great Dad he certainly showed a lot of fatherly love for his altar boys but he couldn’t have the family in the way he fantasized about and in the end it was that fantasy that made him act the way he did.   

Riley Flynn causes his parents a lot of pain. Him killing that girl in the beginning, his alcoholism, him simply not liking the place, the home they build for themselves through hard work causes the Annie and Ed so much pain and financial loss and you can see how tired they are, how much guilt they feel for failing their son. Ed calls out his own guilt and says that he doesn’t belive it could be Annie’s fault because ‘your mother’s a saint’ but what I truly love about Annie and Ed Flynn is that they both aren’t saints. As a mother Annie is very much overprotective and suffocating, wanting to keep her children on crocket island and hating the notion that they might leave her, even though she is kind and sweet and loving. And while Ed seems rather checked out as a father but he is the more honest parent, never talking down to Riley and telling him as it is, telling him about the pain he caused him while also admitting to the guilt he feels. The Flynns are flawed people even in their religious practice (I think the way Annie speaks about Ali showing up at church when Hassan seemed to be nothing but nice to her spoke very loudly to the fact that Annie is rather misguided sometimes) but they are good people at the core of it and their parenting might have been part of Riley’s way into alcoholism but it wasn’t only them. There were things they couldn’t change and things they had no influence over like his heart being broken by Erin running away, the sort of people he went out on parties with and so many other things...  Yes, they may have shaped their son in a way that made him vulnerable to addiction and the party scene of the stock and tech market and brought him to the point where he killed a child but it doesn’t happen through parenting alone and they also shaped him in the good ways. Him not losing himself when Pruitt changes him, him being brave enough to warn Erin, him standing up for what he believes in those things were also shaped by Ed and Annie. They are one of the best example of flawed but good hearted Christians I have seen in recent media and their portrayal was one of the most heartbreaking ones. 

Now the kids: 

Let’s start with Leeza. Little Leeza Scarborough who before it comes to her wonder gets treated with pity and overprotectiveness from her parents and the island community at large. Leeza was injured by Joe Collie transforming him into the island’s villain and her into the ever present victim.  What happened to her is without a doubt horrible and I understand why Wade and Dolly started to become these overprotective parents, why they were so easily sucked in to John’s and Bev’s scheme. Their little girl was almost taken from them eventhough Wade is the mayor, one of the most powerful people on the island he had no influence over what happened to Leeza even was the one who took her out that day and what followed the accident was as we can gather from their conversation with Sarah a lot of pain and financial burden though they say they would have done it all over for Leeza. In fact a lot of places in crockett island are wheelchair accesible and I am sure that Wade as mayor made it so (I can’t really imagine that a small place like the island was very inclusive though I may be wrong).  After Leeza is healed they don’t want to question in don’t want to think about what might have been the cause for it. In fact they stop questioning anything after that point, after Leeza walks again they are completely vulnerable to Bev’s manipulation and them letting that happen, them just going along with everything, Wade protecting John after he kills Joe long after Leeza forgave him and with her forgiveness send Joe on a better path is what in the end makes them lose her. Because Leeza isn’t that little victim who needs pity and help, she is a strong minded, strong willed young woman with a lot of wit who similar to Erin finds strength in her faith but in a way that isn’t devotion without question and when the Easter vigil is held she doesn’t follow her parents eventhough she loves them deeply. She forgives them I think, because that’s what Leeza’s character is about in it’s core but her parents were two of the instigators behind what happened on the island, without Wade’s protection John and Bev couldn’t have come as far as they did and they put their trust in them because they loved their daughter so much they didn’t stop to question if maybe what made Leeza walk again was also a bad thing. 

Ali and Hassan don’t have it easy and I as a white person really can’t speak much on the racism and religious discrimination they face.  I can say this I think: The first line spoken about Ali before we even really get to look at him is “You didn’t invite Aladin” and already sets us up for what both of them know: They are the outsiders. Not only because they just moved to the island but also because in their faith they are different from their peers and religion can often be a community building event for people before it is anything else. Ali starts balming his father a little for that, for not trying to fit in more with the community, for moving after his mother’s death and then not trying to be closer to the people around them and for the pain all the pain the two of them went through before Crockett island. It isn’t oly peer pressure though of course that brings Ali to St Patrick’s. Sure, Ali wanted to be part of the community but also desperately wanted to believe that there was a devine power who could if he just did it (it meaning faith) the right way he might find a way to avoid the pain of his parents. Hassan knew that and he warned him that that wasn’t how it worked. Hassan was a protective Dad and maybe he overdid it from time to time but his worries were never without reason, his need to keep his son safe from a world that hated him for a crime that happened when he wasn’t even born yet never unfounded and him wanting to make sure his kid kept the memory of his mother alive never anything but the wish of a griefing man and loving father. In the end when they pray together there is peace in them. They face their ends with the dignity Ali’s mother would have wished for and they face it as father and son. While Beverly the true religious terrorist of the story burns away without it. 

Warren is the youngest Flynn and it is never directly stated yet omnipresent that his coming of age happens in the shadow of his older brother’s mistake.  Annie warns him away from drinking when he goes out he in fact doesn’t drink. He never drinks because of what his brother did.  Warren would have been 12 when Riley killed that girl and so he would have seen and felt what his brother’s actions did to his parents fully without being yet old enough to maybe see the nuance.  Annie and Ed probably try to right the wrong they believe to have done in parenting Riley with Warren and that’s a lot for a kid. I do think it’s pretty usual that parents of multiple children especially when there’s a larger age gap try to do better with the younger children, but that isn’t fair is it?  Warren is his own person not a second chance to do it over.  And yet seemingly he does what is asked of him. He’s alter boy, he’s charming and helpful and sweet, he doesn’t drink (even when he does smoke pot) and he helps his father where he can with his work.  But in the end he feels guilty because he thinks he wasn’t enough and says at that last dinner he would have been different if he had known he wouldn’t see his family again. But Leeza is right they know and they love him and Warren deserved to not be perfect all the time. 

Littlefoot saved Erin and Erin payed her back with all the love she had. She was never born but she gave her mother the strength and willpower to leave.  In her speech to Joe Leeza said he reached through time and took things from her she didn’t even know she had yet.When Erin left her husband she reached through time and saved Littlefoot from a childhood like hers and when John gave Erin the angel’s vampire’s blood he reached through time and took away her child, a child who would have been loved and cared for. A child with an amazing mother and probably a great step-dad.  Littlefoot’s story is tragic because she never got one. 

[astarlightmonbebe]

the devil judge ep. 4: thoughts

i know i already wrote like five paragraphs of thoughts yesterday. well it turns out i had some more, though this post mostly focuses on what we learned in episode four, as well as other questions, and some analysis.

yohan and the fire.

the number one question we’re (the viewers) left with at the end of the episode is how much of the story yohan tells gaon is true. considering what we know, i would say most of it is, but likely there are some crucial parts are different. now, this isn’t only based on yohan’s cryptic, ‘i knew it, people like stories like this.’ 

here’s what we know about the fire, and about yohan:

1) in episode one, at the ending when yohan looks at gaon, he sees a fire, and remembers seeing his brother looking at him. he also remembers touching his brother’s face, with what looks like a teddy bear in his hand - which i’m pretty sure we see elijah holding in the episode four fire. since this is introduced first, in episode one, and is obviously a true flashback, i am assuming that this actually happened. however, in yohan’s events, we don’t actually see this scene. of course, it might just have been omitted between yohan crying and then him leaving the church, but it’s certainly interesting, especially because parts we see in flashback usually make an appearance when the full memory is revealed. also note that the scene of his brother looking at him happened after the fire was actually put out, in the blue lighting, when he should have already been dead - of course, it could have just been what yohan saw when he looked at gaon, or it could have actually happened. 

2) the firefighter. in episode two, i think, we see yohan looking at homeless people and checking their wrists. his motive is confirmed in episode four, when he finally finds the firefighter who stole isaac’s watch. however, the firefighter is terrified enough of yohan that he has a panic attack of sorts when he sees him and then flees, eventually accumulating in his suicide. now, this reaction seems out of proportion compared to what we saw in yohan’s flashback. yes, the firefighter is guilty of stealing from a dead person, but there’s really no reason for him to be that scared of yohan. he could have just given the watch back and run away, but he fled as if terrified for his life instead. this insinuates that the firefighter had a negative experience with yohan during the church fire. also i’m 99% sure that the watch yohan takes back is the same one he gave to gaon which is interesting for many reasons.

3) elijah herself seems to hate yohan. now, this could be because she hates him for leaving her parents there and rescuing her instead of trying to save them, but apparently she wants him dead, which is a little concerning, especially since they are uncle and niece and live together. her reaction is strange towards someone who supposedly saved her life, and it doesn’t just seem to be because she wishes she hadn’t survived, etc. 

4) yohan’s line at the end itself. this line clearly indicates that he told his story for the purpose of manipulating gaon. if the story itself is more sinister, it makes sense for him to share a version that would make gaon clearly empathize with him.

my conclusion based on all of this is that the events likely happened in the order, but that yohan’s position in all of this might have differed a bit, and not been as heroic as initially described. yohan genuinely hates the people in power, believes in the cruelty of the world, and has a reason to. however, he also benefits immensely from making the events more sympathetic towards him, which makes it hard for us, as viewers, to completely trust him. all i can say is that i hope he’s not lying entirely, because if he lied with the purpose of manipulating gaon and steering him away from the actual truth, by telling a story he knew would make gaon feel strongly about due to his own trauma and backstory, then that’s just a disaster in the making.   

gaon as isaac’s lookalike.

this episode clearly established the story of kang isaac, who gaon shares a remarkable similarity to. there’s a possibility that he is isaac’s son, but that feels like it wouldn’t fit. gaon looks like he’s in his mid to late twenties. yohan is probably somewhere in his thirties, but it’s hard to tell with men that look like that lol. there’s at least a ten year age gap between them in my opinion. elijah is probably in her mid teens, given it has been ten years since the fire and she was a young child then. still, the ages don’t exactly match up, and there’s no scenario for how that could have occured, so why does he look exactly like isaac? 

there’s also the fact that no one else has noted his resemblance to isaac. i can understand why the other rich people didn’t, but jung sunah spoke directly to gaon about isaac, but didn’t seem to note any similarity. now, it has been ten years since his death, and i think if people aren’t looking for similarity they won’t see it, especially since glasses change a person’s face, but the jarring similarity should have at least turned some heads.

yohan is seen to give gaon isaac’s watch. this is symbolic for many reasons. one of them, like yohan said, is because he’s syncing gaon to yohan’s time, another way of demonstrating how yohan is introducing gaon into his world, bringing an outsider in. but the fact that he gave gaon a watch that belonged to his dead brother who looks exactly like gaon says something else. almost as if gaon is transforming into isaac, or something weird like that. it was just weird, period, and yohan obviously made it a deliberate choice. 

gaon and yohan in general.

i already talked about them quite a bit, and a lot of other people have as well, but this episode really served. first there was the white vs. black, especially when introducing gaon to the corrupt world of the rich. the white coat initially protects gaon in a way, but he takes it off when meeting with the actual rich people, as if his kind morality is not allowed there, further demonstrated by yohan bodily throwing him out of his chair when he tried to speak up. although jinjoo also went with yohan to a social event, gaon is invited to the intimate gathering of the top tier organizations, given a seat at the table, with yohan basically wanting him to see things as they are at the moment, making him aware of what yohan himself knows.

there was also the scene in the car, when yohan jerks the wheel. i think this scene was super interesting because it clearly demonstrates how yohan is just. not really that sane. which isn’t exactly what i mean, but i don’t know how else to describe it, because yohan isn’t exactly mentally unstable, though he certainly seems to be. instead, the yohan of today is just a mirror of the yohan who the priest described as the devil. he thrives off chaos. yes, his actions as a child were inventive and clever, but it also demonstrates how yohan can and will exploit other people for no other reason than enjoyment. the live court gives him the opportunity to do this to the whole world. he has a flair for dramatics, he’s the gamemaster, carefully orchestrating everything and enjoying the results for his benefit. not only is he making himself popular, but he’s turning himself into a godlike idol, which is honestly blasphemous considering the fact that he’s a judge, but it makes a lot of sense when you consider the fact that he’s been called the devil, the judge robes look like a priest’s robes instead, he has the symbol of the cross on his back (scar), etc...it all adds up, and the religious imagery is frankly insane. one wonders if he’ll end up a martyr, or cast into fiery pits. 

in cast interviews, or the clips that i’ve seen, gaon’s character has been referred to as an angel of sorts, a ray of hope. this is obviously in stark contrast to yohan, who is darkness, who is gray morality. gaon believes in the idea of justice taught in school, which i think makes sense when you consider the fact that his childhood was likely extremely unfair: living in poverty, parents killing themselves because of debt. he believes in lawful justice almost as if he has to, to have a chance to change things. he doesn’t understand what yohan is trying to make him understand: that lawful justice will never apply to the rich, that fairness doesn’t matter to million and billionaires, because they can change the law however they please the suit their benefits. it’s funny because that is what yohan is proving with the public, that the rich can be brought to justice. i’m really interested to see how their views will change when they get to know each other better and/or team up. there’s a lot of potential there (yes i’ve said this like five times. it’s all i think about right now.).

jung sunah.

i actually don’t have much more to say on that character, but as she’s revealed to be the actual head of the social responsibility foundation, we’re left wondering if mr. seo is just a figurehead, or if she just gained power by controlling him. idk if this makes sense - is she in charge charge of everything, or just in charge of mr. seo? i think next episode will more clearly demonstrate this.

the public, the ethics of live court shows, etc.

this episode was by far the most concerning one when it came to the live court show. whereas their first case was something that was clearly evil and neatly tied up, youngmin’s case was a brutal display of the power of the public and what it means when someone has the power to manipulate the public. youngmin definitely deserved to be punished. i think it’s actually super funny how his argument was that they didn’t have the right to judge him, when he did exactly that to everyone who suffered from his abuse. however, public flagellation seemed absurd. despite most people saying he deserved it, there was also the vibe that most people didn’t believe it would actually be shown. however, when it was, you could see that most of the public was deeply unsettled by this. yohan’s cult was also demonstrated in this scene, from the people cheering. 

was youngmin’s punishment justice? maybe, in a way. i don’t think there really was a punishment that would be right for him. flogging would scare him, but it also ignites his anger. in prison he might live a better life than most, but he would also be kept away from people he could hurt, which is kind of the purpose of prisons.

the flogging felt very dystopian, but i think it also showed the danger of the live court show perfectly. not only did it incite people and their bloodthirst at being offered a sort of justice, but it also showed how people feel when confronted with a decision they chose. over 95% of people chose for that punishment to be carried out, but few appeared to actually enjoy seeing it carried out. it’s a lot easier to click a button and feel as if you don’t matter in the large scheme of things than it is to see what happened as a result of you and many other people choosing to do something. it showed the power of the public, or more exactly, how yohan was able to manipulate the public into torturing cha kyunghee and ripping her family apart slowly. 

at the end of the day, i doubt few (of the viewers, at least, though i don’t really know) were actually satisfied or happy by youngmin’s punishment. it might have been satisfying to see his court breakdown, but when it comes down to it, it’s just more human suffering. 

it also begs the question of if yohan will ever be put on trial. could that even happen? it seems an almost inevitable conclusion to his trajectory right now - when you fight corruption with corruption, the only thing left when the corruption is gone is your corrupted self - but i think right now he’s also building the public as a way to protect himself, which has proved right so far. it’s interesting to wonder if the public will ever turn on him, and what will happen if public opinion shifts.

[ssson-of-sparda]

WHAT FORTUNE GAVE - CHAPTER 1 (VERGIL X NERO’S MOTHER)

Summary: Vergil arrives in Fortuna and crosses path with a rebellious lady dressed in red. But even if he doesn't want pay attention, Fortuna seemed determined to intertwine their lives.

(PROLOGUE)

Tags: Romance / Angst / Fluff / Explicit Sexual Content / Explicit Language / Canon-Typical Violence / Blood and Gore / Religion / The Order of The Sword / Civil War / Rebellion / Demons / Action and Adventure / Sparda’s past

Author’s note: So, let me introduce you to Elissa aka Nero's mother. I've decided to make her rebellious and quite feisty to mirror Nero's impetuosity. After all, that kid had to take after someone, right? So why not mummy dearest? I know the story might seem slow to start but I need to set up the scenery for the events to come. Hope you like it anyway.

It all started on a Holy Thursday, on the first day of a most-welcomed vigorous spring that tinted the cityscape of the Castle Town of Fortuna in luminous shades of gold and blue. The cobbled streets were empty, the shops and cafes all closed, for all the inhabitants were gathered inside the Cathedral whose majestic dome overlooked the nearby Renaissance-style buildings, a sacred beacon calling the devotees to pray. But the religious establishment was nothing in comparison to the partially-veiled giant-like idol standing tall and massive within the ramparts of the city, a figure made of stone and marble with the face of Vergil’s father. It didn’t look very resembling to him. Sparda never had such delicate features, not in his son’s memories at least. But it did not matter. The young man wasn’t here to judge some clearly distasteful architecture. He was here for the answers and the promises of power that island kept in between its walls.             “The Order of the Sword, huh? They worship a demon as a god?” This reality sounded foolish, incomprehensible even. His father was no god. He knew that better than anyone. But what was religion if not idealisation, divinisation of a flawed man? Humans …

***

“Elissa!” A fearful whisper pronounced the girl’s name but it would take more than a whisper for her to stop her mischief. “Elissa! Come dddd-down!” The girl named Elissa smiled, enjoying the risk she was definitely taking. Degrading the Savior? Not her first time. But she had never climbed that high before. “What if sss-omeone sees you … sss-ees us?” She rolled her green eyes, weary of the perpetual anxiety shaking the already very trembling voice of her friend. “Agnus! Stop being such a pussy!” She shouted-murmured, not really knowing why she was murmuring at all. “Everyone’s at church!” Agnus fidgeted even more as he saw the young woman taking her time spraying blue paint on the statue, the tip of her rosy tongue out, an adorable display of her concentration and perfectionism. “Does it look like the Guard’s symbol to you?” She demanded, observing her rebellious art from all possible angles.     Agnus sighed and looked up, regretting to have left his lab for this childish yet dangerous adventure. He wasn’t a teenager anymore. He even had a woman and a baby daughter waiting for him at home. So why wasting time playing vandals with Elissa? He knew why. “You’re not looking under my skirt, are you?”          The man blushed, terribly uncomfortable. “What? Of cccc-ourse not!” But he was a scientist and scientists were curious beings. That’s what he was telling himself each time he was thinking about what was hidden underneath Elissa’s crimson clothes.The Cathedral bells rang loud, signalling the end of today’s mass. Soon, the people of Fortuna would invade the streets again to come back to their boring daily occupations. “We’re definitely gonna get ccc-caught.” Agnus told himself. “What am I gonna tell Marcus?” A suspect noise stopped Agnus in his alarming thoughts. It was coming from a few streets away. Squeals and growls of fury and pain. Demons? “Ddd-did you hear that?” Elissa listened carefully and recognized the screams. She had heard similar ones in Mitis Forest recently. She had shut a lot of them up too. They were demons alright but not the worst kind. “Just a few …scarecrows.” She tried to reassure Agnus but realised he was already gone. “Such a pussy.” She shook her head, slightly exasperated but not surprised. Agnus was not famous for his bravery, quite the opposite. He was a coward but Elissa was okay with it. After all, he had been providing the Guardians with very useful information concerning demons for a few years now, all that thanks to his natural talents as an alchemist. The girl jumped off the statue and, in order to remove the beige dust from the fabric, shook her old red dress typical of Fortuna fashion, one of the few clothes she had kept from her past life in the Order and that she now used to blend in among the Fortunans each time she would venture in town. She then cautiously pulled up her skirt to reveal a thigh belt hidden under the white petticoat and strapped the spray can, right next to a sharp curved dagger she kept in a thin leather sheath just in case.        “Hey! You!” Did we say cautiously? “Shit!” Time to run.

***

Yamato shone in the sun, casting a shadow on Vergil’s young face that even this small fight hadn’t manage to fluster, and once again the blade made one with the saya with a perfect clink that echoed like a lethal musical note in the demon-cleared street. “Just what are your true intentions?” He wondered out loud as he wrapped his blue frame under a linen cloak that looked foreign to anyone who would take a look.Elissa took a look, green eyes staring with curiosity from under her white hood she had carelessly thrown above her head in precipitation to cover her soft locks of fiery ginger when she had left the place of her previous mischief as fast as she could, successfully escaping the angry guards shouting at her.           She took a look, knowing exactly what this stranger had just done as she watched him crossing the crowd with purpose, alone, going up the street towards the Cathedral while everyone was walking down, their minds still lost in religious psalms.             She stopped in her track for a second to admire him, wondering who he was and where he came from. She imagined a distant city at first, somewhere far away from here, crowded with people who hadn’t been indoctrinated by the Order’s promises. But then, as she noticed his bearing, so stately and yet so lonely, she thought he wasn’t from a particular place but from many places. A wanderer, traveling the world, someone who held knowledge, who had seen what was beyond the horizon of Fortuna.            He probably noticed her stare as he concealed his face even more under his hood and slightly hunched his shoulders. So, out of respect and despite her devouring curiosity, Elissa walked away, certain that if Sparda wanted her to meet this mysterious strange again, then their paths would cross one more time.Vergil quietly made his way in the main avenue where the marble giant was standing and slowed down when he noticed a small crowd gathered by the statue’s feet. Everyone was gasping in shock, hands over mouths as if they were the witnesses of the worst sacrilege, the most terrible infamy.       Wondering what the fuss was all about, the Son of Sparda peered over everyone’s shoulders from a distance but close enough to spot a graffiti plastered on the leg of the thing the Fortunans seemed to call The Savior. It was a symbol of some sort, a pair of winged arms with sharp claws protecting Sparda’s horned head. It had been drawn with turquoise paint that was still running down the immaculate white stone and that was leaving a heavy odour of solvents in the ambient air, identical to the one Vergil had smelt when that girl who had stared at him with insistence had walked past him, an odour indicating Vergil when the degradation had been made and who had done it.He scoffed briefly, amused by the political provocation and the over-dramatic reaction of the bigoted crowd, and after glancing one last time at the spray-painted symbol, resumed his exploration of the city.       “Looks like appearances can be deceiving in this city after all.” Vergil said as he thought about the rebellious girl in saint clothes who didn’t seem to be new in the graffiti drawing business according to the devotees’ wrath. “Those rebels again! Soiling the image of Sparda with their belligerent propaganda. Hope the Order will find them soon.” They agreed with each other with angry nods. “They are worse than demons! They probably hide in shadows like the rats they are.”     Had Vergil just stepped in the middle of a civil war?

***

When her holy hood fell back on her shoulders, Elissa sighed in relief, glad to finally feel her soft ginger hair finally liberated from that awful religious cage of white cotton she couldn’t stand wearing anymore. Few more minutes and she would also get rid of that ridiculous dress that constricted her like a straitjacket. But right now, she had a meeting to attend.      Summoned by her leader, probably to claim responsibility for her new roguishness that had caused such a big turmoil in the city this morning, she pushed the door of Guardian Marcus’s office without an ounce of fear or apprehension. She knew full well she would not be reprimanded. She never was.  “Elissa! My child, come.” The white-haired old man welcomed her with wide opened arms and showed her a seat before him where she sat in silence and waited for him to say what he had to say.At first, he just stared at her, without a word but with half a smile and a look of amusement he couldn’t keep to himself. And finally he spoke with a cheerful tone. “You should have painted it red.” His loud laugh echoed in the room and he took a huge sip of the red wine waiting to be drunk in a fancy chalice next to his velvet armchair.            Elissa had a timid respectful smile; unable to act casual with this man who, even though was distant family, had been leading the cause she was fighting for for so many years, since even before she was born. “How did you find out?”           “Agnus told me.” He admitted and gauged the girl’s reaction who seemed more disappointed in herself than surprised. “Should have thought so.”    “Be careful who you surround yourself with, Elissa. Offering someone your trust can be as dangerous as any blade. Believe me, I know.” He traced the large scar along his wrinkled face, a reminder of an old betrayal that had made him lose, in addition to his left eye, a man he used to call brother and who was now leading Fortuna thanks to his lies and his dark secrets. Sanctus. “I shall remember your advice, sir.” “But you know what surprises me the most? It’s that Adel didn’t try to talk you out of this. After all, he follows you like a shadow … an enamoured shadow even.” Marcus smiled, trying to build complicity with this young lady, the granddaughter of the brother he had lost long ago, a child he loved like his own. Elissa smiled in return and shook her head, having trouble to believe she was having this conversation with her leader. “And yet you seemed keen on refusing his advances. May I know why?”        “I didn’t know this was a matchmaking appointment.” Elissa humoured, definitely amused by the situation. “I’m old and I’ve been at war for most of my life. So let’s say, the frivolity of youth and the burgeoning loves are like peaceful songs to my heart.”        Elissa sighed and her heart, in spite of this new attempt at making it yield to a man she didn’t love, once again refused to see Adel as nothing else than a friend. “I’m just not interested. Enamoured shadows are not my type.”         “ And what, pray tell, is your type?”

***

Vergil had visited many places in his short lifetime. Perpetually on the move – he refused to say ‘on the run anymore’ for running was for the weak – he had seen so many cities, so many different landscapes, some in shades of blue, some in shades of green and other in shades of gold, so many colours most men would have forgotten but that he had somehow always cared to remember. But there was something about Fortuna that made her unique, different from all the things he had had the chance to see.         Perhaps was it the anachronistic almost medieval atmosphere that had shaped the city architecture and the inhabitants’ lifestyle or perhaps was it because every edifice seemed to hold secret knowledge about his family.  Whatever it was, Vergil was sure of one thing; what made Fortuna special were clearly not the city’s filthy underground bars from Port Caerula, well hidden under the docks, away from prying eyes that would be easily outraged by the debauchery they held between their walls. That kind of place he was familiar with, despite his revulsion for them and the people frequenting them.           “Hello, sugar. You’re a new face.” An eccentric woman declared as she tried to take a peek under Vergil’s cowl, her voluptuous body leant against the bar. “And a handsome one. I would lower my price for a face like yours.” The young man glanced at the woman, shortly but long enough to see how she looked, the embodiment of repulsive tragedy that once looked beautiful.             Her makeup was smeared and barely hiding the bruises and the cuts on her young face and she was wearing a church outfit ripped at the thighs and purposely unbuttoned to reveal her generous cleavage. And in her velvet purse, she kept a wig made of dry artificial ginger hair some despicable men had certainly asked her to wear more than once.       “Not interested. Now leave.” Vergil’s tone was curt and cold but she insisted anyway.        “You’re sure? I make the best blowjobs in all Fortuna. Isn’t that right, Captain?” She nodded towards a young charismatic brown-skinned man carrying a crossbow on his back and drinking sitting the stool right next to Vergil. When he heard his name, he spared a glare at the prostitute and at the Son of Sparda as well for no particular reason but because he hated his occasional obscene deviations to be exposed. “He just looooves some naughty church girls. Do you like them too?” Vergil ignored her and focused again on his drink, lying untouched on the bar. He didn’t like drinking. “Or do you prefer them innocent and prudish? I can be either.”  “Quit with your lies and just leave, Pomona².” The dark-haired man ordered with a strong voice that made her smile.       “ Ha! Looks like I finally have my name back. See you around, sugar… Adel.” She winked and left to sell her body to someone else that would accept it in exchange of a bit of money.“You should not visit that sort of bar if women like Pomona bother you, stranger.” The so-called Adel warned before drinking from his tankard. He, just like everybody else here, could tell Vergil was not from around. All they had to do was looking at him. After all, everyone knew everyone else in a small reclusive island like Fortuna. “It’s sometimes the loudest, worst people that give all the information a man looks for.”     “So you’re looking for information then. About what?” Vergil was a curious man but he despised curiosity in other people, especially when he was the subject of their curiosity.            “Nothing a man like you knows about.”        The answer surprised the Moor who hadn’t expected such arrogance coming from a stranger. “Well, piece of advice. If you want information in Fortuna, there are two ways to get them. Either you don’t behave like an arrogant asshole or you pay for them.”     Vergil smirked slightly under his hood as he already knew how to react to such pathetic insult. Adel was not a difficult man to read. “Just like when you want a woman’s love, am I right?”             The provocation burnt and stang like the most vicious hot poker piercing through

Adel’s dignity and ego. It pushed him to stand up and grab his crossbow in retaliation.         But his weapon, as precise and strong as it was, was useless in close combat and it instantly met the sharp blade of a magnificent katana that would make any swordsman worth the name grow pale. And with a dexterous swift move, the crossbow flew across the room as if it was a paper plane.But the clients in the bar didn’t gasp at the legendary Yamato. They gasped at the silvery-white hair adorning Vergil’s head that had been revealed when he inadvertently had lost his hood in this express fight. “It’s the hair of Sparda.” People whispered, amazed.     With an expert graceful move, Yamato found his saya again and Vergil walked through the crowd, high-handed and resolved to escape this place and all those bothering eyes he felt upon him.But as he pushed the door of the establishment, he came face to face with the feminine figure he had noticed in the streets this morning. It stopped him in his track and for the first time in his lifetime, but certainly not the last, he looked into her deep green eyes.  They reminded him of an old poem he loved greatly, one he had read so many times and would never grow tired of, about a dark forest and a tyger burning bright³. And as he gazed in that girl’s look and witnessed that emerald wood, wild and dense, trying to conceal in vain the fiery fur of a predator, Vergil knew he would never read that poem the same way or imagine Blake’s colours in the shades he would normally imagine them.               And so he stared, longer than he wanted, almost the same way she gazed at the pale blue topazes and at the god-like silver hair crowning his head. But while fire is wild, the ice is timid. And thus, admiration only shows through the eyes of the red lady.    And when she finally opened her mouth to speak her mind, Vergil escaped into the night leaving lost shadows behind him. But that was fine. Shadows were not the lady’s type after all.It all started on a Holy Thursday, on the first day of a most-welcomed vigorous spring that tinted the cityscape of the Castle Town of Fortuna in luminous shades of gold and blue.      But among them there was this vibrant red and two sparkling amber-tinted emeralds reflecting brighter than anything else in a pair of icy eyes, a mirror who strangely wouldn’t mind seeing that reflection again.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: ¹ Marcus: derived from the name of the Roman god of war, Mars to highlight Marcus' status and personality. ² Pomona: From Latin pomus "fruit tree". The word "Pomme" is also the French for "apple", the fruit of temptation. Pomona will come back in other chapters. ³ a tyger burning bright : From William Blake's poem The Tyger

[dreamsister81]

"If  you listen to the lyrics of Hallelujah closely, you  notice  it’s a  song  about  sex,  about  love,  about life on Earth. The hallelujah isn’t a tribute to a worshipped person, an idol or a god, but it’s the hallelujah of orgasm. It’s an ode to life and to love."-OOR, August, 1994

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Why did you cover a Leonard Cohen song?

Because I find myself in Hallelujah, not because of Cohen.-Knust interview, September 13, 1994

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“Any of the covers on the album are there because they mean a certain thing in my life that I love and I miss. One day I was house-sitting for a friend and she left her whiskey out and I got into it and hit this horrible sorrowful jag. I went to the gig-Sin-É, in fact-weeping like a fucking animal. The whole time. I sang ‘Hallelujah’ that night and I got through the show just on the edge of tears. I don’t know why. It just wells up inside you."-Hot Press, October 5, 1994

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And this version of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah", does he know the John Cale version? "Well, actually, I'm playing John Cale's version, that's where I got it from, from that record "I'm Your Fan" that I listened to at a friend's house. I also know Leonard's original, but he doesn't sing every verse, the way John interprets it is so...simple."-Rock & Folk, October, 1994

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" 'Hallelujah' for example I learned in New York from John Cale after a year working at Sin-é on a day when I found myself crying like a baby and that song expressed exactly what I was feeling. A title like 'Hallelujah' makes one think of the church, of morality and instead there is a deep humanity inside, there is the idea of making love, losing love, being crucified. Leonard wrote ten verses for that song and I don't know why he didn't sing them all, I just chose the ones I felt were most mine. He has this extraordinary ability to grasp the fundamental element of a certain situation and to "steal" it, make it his own and build the text around it."-Rockerilla, October, 1994

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The artists you've covered so far are Van Morrison, Leonard Cohen, Alex Chilton, they're connected on a certain line. It's kind of cult people or like that. Do you select those songs consciously?

It doesn't matter who's song it is. I did it because each moment in my life matched the song so well. For example, Leonard's "Hallelujah." One day, I was intoxicated with so much sadness, I was totally wasted after drinking whiskey and practicing this song. Right after that, I went into the gig as I was, and I was screaming like an animal. I'm singing that song with those experiences in mind. I have to be myself before the song exists.-Rockin'on October 1994

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"Hallelujah, I was just housesitting for a friend, watching her cats while she was away and I got into her whiskey and got into her record collection and there was there was John Cale's version of Hallelujah on I'm Your Fan. And I'm not...there are Leonard Cohen enthusiasts...it's not because of Leonard that I did the song, it's simply because of the song and because of the verses. I'm just in there somewhere. I have no blood bound allegiance to Leonard, although i have an incredible admiration and real great love of his work you know? There's a difference between somebody who's a total Tom Waits freak and just somebody who just likes to listen to them, and you know, the Tom Waits freak will know everything: the demos, the back in the days when he used to sound like Billy Joel, blah, blah, blah...hear the European demos, well, he didn't used to, but back when he was a bit smoother. You know, just knows everything. And I don't know everything about Leonard Cohen, and I haven't read Beautiful Losers, and I haven't done that, but it was just a great song."-WBCN's "Nocturnal Emissions", October 23, 1994 in Boston, Massachusetts

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" 'Hallelujah' I didn't do it because it's by Leonard Cohen, but because I like the song. Based on that it was done for all the songs, including mine. The version that inspired me is a John Cale version with all ten verses, unlike the way it appears on Various Positions. The night I first proposed it at Sin-é was a special night, I had also been a bit of a jerk. You see, the word Hallelujah has its own definite sign, you connect it to the church. Instead, for me it is a word that celebrates something very human, it speaks of a deep connection between pain and the human condition. That word has nothing to do with being nailed to a cross: there's when you're hurting, but there's also when you're making love, when you're losing it."-Buscadero, November, 1994

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"The fact that I did Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah doesn't mean anything, Cohen is something you discover when you're discovering life, you don't get there when you're very young."-Rumore, November, 1994

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"Finally, Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah not for the meaning of religious purity that anyone can see, but for more earthly reasons: pain, sex, orgasm and the cruelty of everyday life. I believe in people, not in heaven. Without people God would not exist, he would not make sense."-Tutto, February, 1995

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I wanted to ask you about your version of "Hallelujah". I guess its based more on John Cale's version than Leonard Cohen's original?

Yeah. But I heard the one on (Cohen's album) Various Positions first. Then I was stuck in a room with that I'm Your Fan CD (a Cohen tribute album) and I listened to (Cale's version) and it was, again, very simple. Then I heard that version one time again in Tower Records, and I was just struck. There and then, I thought, "This is wonderful ."

But am I right in thinking you don't really rate your version, compared with Cale's?

Well, he's a man. Mine's too fast. I know the difference between myself in a totally empty situation-which is best, where anything can happen-and in a situation where something's expected. And I don't feel very good about that day, and the time I chose that song to be included on the record, it was between that version and another version that I really despised. All in all, there must 22 versions floating out there. It's just never the right time. It seems that the only right time is when I'm telling it to people. And I guarantee, I have mashed that version into the ground nightly on tour, just creamed it. And there's also a version on the master reel for "So Real" that, because I was so wiped out and exhausted after that day-we'd recorded "So Real" and I recorded one last "Hallelujah", and that was my best one-I just forgot about that "So Real", I was so tired. So it's just hanging around out there. C'est la vie. Part of making records is letting stuff go.-February 28, 1995 interview, published in Uncut, September, 2004

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 I tell him that Bono loves Grace and says that Buckley's cover of Cohen's Hallelujah is better than his own. (Buckley plays John Cale's slightly altered version of the song from the I'm Your Fan tribute album to Cohen.) Buckley slumps back in his chair, as he does when on the defensive, and curls his lip in a manner that accentuates his resemblance to Matt Dillon. "I don't think I did that right," he sighs, passing over the compliment without comment. "I hope Leonard doesn't hear it. The way I do it live is better. I did it all live in the studio, there's no overdubs at all, but I pop it in unexpectedly in the show and it works better. The way I did it sounded more like a child and sometimes I've sung it more like a man."-Mojo, March, 1995

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"It's a hymn to being alive. It's a hymn to love lost. To love. Even the pain of existence, which ties you to being human, should receive an amen-or a hallelujah."-Schwann Spectrum, Spring 1995

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"I found myself in that song and I performed it many times in solo shows. But I'd be neglecting something if I didn't say that I learned it from John Cale. John Cale was the one that brought it to recording first, on the tribute album I'm Your Fan and he used these lyrics, these verses, for the song that didn't appear on Various Positions, which was the first album that Hallelujah appeared upon. I was house-sitting for my friend Susan and she had some whiskey...I don't know, I just hit a big, really bad sorrow jag and put on the song, and it was so simple the way John sang it that the words went through me, and I learned the words that night, played it that night at my gig at Sin-e...I don't know, it just stayed with me ever since. I wasn't gonna put it on the album at first 'cause I didn't write it and it would be kinda cheesy but I thought better after a couple suggestions from a friend of mine, and I did. Unfortunately, I think people will ask for it until the day I'm grey and old and fat, which I don't like, so I'll have to write something better, and I will."-Sony promo interview

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"He has a unique talent for making everyday life poetic and surreal-the most difficult way to write. However, on Hallelujah, I much prefer the lyrics rewritten by John Cale for the I'm Your Fan compilation. It is this version that I have taken up, not Cohen's version."-Les Inrockuptibles, July, 1995

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"That's not a hallelujah of chasteness and piety," Buckley explains. "It's more menstrual. It has more to do with the hallelujah of orgasam, of pain, of joy, of flesh, of being tied to the earth. Not of invisible angels in heaven who may or may not come down to tell you how good or bad you are, or Santa Claus."-Sydney Morning Herald, August 25, 1995

[scionofchaos]

Gaslighting and Verbal Abuse

This post will feature an in-depth look at gaslighting and verbal abuse, especially with regards to a Christian religious background. Proceed at your own discretion.

I am among the many who, upon leaving home and having a few years to develop my own opinions, took on a starkly different perspective from my parents. Not out of open rebellion, nor out of spite, though both played into it. Different because I was able to distance myself from the dogma and hypocrisy they continually stood by, and reshape my point of view from interviews, clinical facts, and cooler heads. This was facilitated by my parents not being in the same country. If they had been, or worse had been in the same town, I doubt I would have had the same liberation. Three major things that this change influenced were the religion, homophobia, and sense of morality that they forced upon me. Brainwashed me into calling my own, on fear of reprisal, until I no longer realized there was a lie. As soon as I had the opportunity to meet and speak with people who were openly gay/bi, I asked them all I could about their perspective on life, and carefully analyzed whether they or their sexuality were as objectionable as I had been told. I met people of very different sects of Christianity, and those apathetic toward religion, and those who staunchly denied it. I was educated on the origin of modern English "profanity," and learned not to see specific words as "profane," but rather as "impolite," and developed my own sense of when to use them.

These and many other changes should have happened much sooner, but as I found, were being actively repressed by my parents for nearly two decades. Anyone who has not been in that position, and thinks, "Surely you could just say 'screw the man,' and do what you want?"

...

You don't understand at all. You don't know what kind of formative pressures a person is put under when, at a point they can barely understand biological death, they are told that physical death leads to billions upon billions of years of unfathomable torment. Forever. That the only way out of that is to pledge your soul to an infinite being of perfection. Try to explain the concepts of a soul, infinity, and perfection to a toddler. See if they can properly tell you, without rote recitation, what any of those mean. Do they understand? I was made to accept what I was told and profess understanding. If I didn't? If I so much as questioned the veracity of what my parents were saying? Shame. Ridicule. Being repeatedly instructed how the very act of such questioning makes G*d "sad," makes him "angry," how it is "sinful." If I, an autistic child undiagnosed at the time, refused to back down to such abuse, then more concrete methods of punishment followed. Going without dinner. Having my possessions taken away on a semi-permanent or fully permanent basis. Not being allowed to continue seeing a friend, watching a show, or playing a game because it likely had corruptive influence. My father told me he would burn my favorite stuffed animal, when I was only 5, because I was "idolizing" it.

Rejecting their views and forming my own argument was not psychologically possible. They made it abundantly clear that even thinking about doing so was abhorrent, would be met with harsh retribution. In the immediate and in the eternal.

Why am I talking about any of this, aside from my usual life story intros? Rather than discussing the merits of spellcraft in its various forms, or describing spirits I have encountered. Well, I want to give you a look at the formation of Self, and how mine was maligned for the better part of my life so far. In about ten years, I will have reached the point where that subjugation was HALF of my human life. My rational process was crammed down, my skepticism was reined in, my better judgment buried under emotional scarring. All things that took long years of painful tearing to undo. New lessons. Spiritual discipline. It is this very level of programming and abuse that can control a person. Until they are brought out of that environment and into one conducive to healing, they may never break away. When you venture into casting spells for love, prosperity, or revenge, or seek to learn what lies in your future, or create a circle of protection, remember this.

Think about what has shaped you, maligned you. It may be that this introspection is too painful, or that a trauma disorder has blocked out those memories; if so, I feel deeply for you in this predicament. But if that is not the case, and you are free to take a critical eye to your history, please do. Break apart that which created you, that which destroyed or suppressed parts of you which you used to have. Begin the journey away from the harmful pieces of your past.

Not because they are unpleasant, but because they are holding you back.

[tsultrimpawo]

I have seen your religion, and I hate it.

I have heard your doctrine, and I loathe it.

Take away your empty praise songs,

your vacuous worshiptainment.

Your mouth is full of religious words,

but your proverbs are salted manure.

“The sick deserve to be sick.

The poor deserve to be poor.

The rich deserve to be rich.

The imprisoned deserve to be imprisoned.”

Because you never saw him sick, or poor, or in prison.

“If he had followed police instructions,

if he had minded the company he keeps,

he would not have been killed,”

You say in the hearing

of a man hanging on a cross

between two thieves.

“People who live good lives

do not have pre-existing conditions,” you say,

carving these words over the hospital door:

“Who sinned, this man or his parents,

that he was born blind?”

“It is the church’s job, not the government’s,”

say you fat sheep,

defending your fat shepherds,

shoving and butting with shoulders and horns,

while you foul the water,

grass,

and air,

and scatter the hungry sheep.

You watch the melting glaciers and say to the waves of the sea,

“this far shall you come, and no farther,”

as if your will could change the weather,

as if your will could be done in the heavens as it is on this earth,

as if you could drill the sky the way you drill the soil.

In your telling,

in the story of the starving of the five thousand,

there are not twelve baskets collected of left-over food;

In your story, God’s abundance becomes scarcity,

and the crowds devour each other.

“Send them into the villages to buy food,”

and let the Invisible Hand’s miracle of the free market sort them out,

the worthy from the unworthy,

while you eat the two fish and five pieces of bread

volunteered by a child.

These ungrateful poor,

the welfare queens

with their anchor babies,

stop before your disciples’ raised palms;

they hear you say,

“The Master cannot be bothered to bless your children.”

You see Hannah drunk,

and you jail her for fetal endangerment.

Like Haman, you hide behind the skirts of the king;

you make laws and pay bribes

that allow vigilante violence

and private discrimination

against those you hate,

sheltering underneath plausible deniability.

“It’s not a Muslim ban,” you say one day.

“It’s about religious liberty,” you say another.

This Bible you wave, this word you claim,

it is sharper than any two-edged sword.

You wield it poorly; it slices you on the backstroke.

You know neither the scriptures nor the power of God.

You tie up heavy yokes for others

whose burdens you do not bear,

but you will not lift a finger to help them.

To some you say, “Do not marry, but burn.”

You lock them out of the kingdom of God.

You cross sea and land for your missionary work,

and teach others to be as hateful as you.

Your kingdom is not the public park of Zechariah,

where children play in the streets

and old men and women lean on their canes for very age.

It is not the land where every fearless household

has its own vine and fig tree,

their own means of production and shade for their rest.

It is not the land where everyone has a home.

Your kingdom is the one with gates,

where homeless beggars have their sores licked by dogs,

where people who have the audacity to grow old

pay a premium for their insolence.

Like Ahab, you covet all the vines, all the fig trees,

letting your domain stretch as far as your eye can see,

adding house to house and field to field

until, in your gentrified land

there is room for no one but you and yours.

Like Pharaoh, you call those who refuse you “Lazy, lazy.”

You build walls, and walls, and walls, and walls,

and you stuff your ears to the sound of protest songs

that will shake those walls down.

I have seen your christ, and he is my antichrist.

He is the herald of a violent god,

a god of fertility but not fruitfulness,

a god of embryos but not emancipation, pro-birth and anti-life,

a god of war and retribution but not of justice,

a god of order but not of peace,

a god of might but not of mercy,

a god of marriage but not of love,

a god of sex but not of pleasure,

a god of platitudes but not of wisdom,

a god of work but not of sabbath,

a god who demands sacrifice from the poor but luxury and reward for Pharaoh.

Your religion is the religion of pyramids pointed heavenwards,

towers built to reach the heavens.

Supported by their flat base, built by slave labor,

they are stable monuments to wealth and death.

You fill their secret rooms with gold so that

in the afterlife,

you may cross to paradise

on the backs of the oppressed,

and live in forgetful pleasure for eternity.

Your gilded gospel is rusty ruin.

You are why the ancient Hebrews

seldom talked about an afterlife,

weary as they were of working

for Egypt’s dead heaven.

Your idols and your religion

are why those slaves left the yoke of heaven,

the land of binding,

for a wide wilderness,

for a nameless, faceless God

who told them they—even they—

were made in God’s image.

You are why your churches are empty

of those who love and believe in freedom.

You are why the Gentiles blaspheme the name of God.

You are the reason for the Exodus.

And if you pursue, may God throw you into the sea.

And the horse you rode in on.

.

References:

Amos 5:21-24

Luke 14:34-35

Matthew 25:31-46

Luke 23:33

John 9:1-12

Ezekiel 34

Job 38:11

Matthew 13:14-21

Matthew 19:13-15

1 Samuel 1:12-20

Esther 3:8-11

Hebrews 4:12

Matthew 22:9

Matthew 23:13-26

1 Corinthians 7:9

Zechariah 8:4

Micah 4:4

Isaiah 65:21-25

Luke 16:19-31

1 Kings 21

Isaiah 5:8

Exodus 5:17

Joshua 6

Genesis 11:1-9

Exodus 15:21

[teamhook]

The Orphanage ~~ CS AU

I wanna thank @ultraluckycatnd for letting me talk things over, unleash my crazy and helping me when I got stuck. She also checked it over. @gingerchangeling for Betaing and being patient with me. She’s the sweetest!

Never enough eyes to look over a fic, specially if it’s mine.

FFN

AO3

A/N: Not all beginnings are happy, but sometimes the journey makes the end worthwhile.

The Orphanage

Convent of the Sisters of Saint Meissa

The orphanage's dull, colorless walls framed with religious artifacts and idols left little to hope for. The old orphanage was stuck in time without the luxuries of the modern world which currently served as a residential group home for the small towns and surrounding area. The children ranged in age from toddlers to teenagers. This was the place you came when no one wanted you. Emma Swan was one such lost girl.

The young blonde girl had moved from family to family. Once upon a time she had been adopted and had a home. Her happiness didn't last, though. She was soon returned when the family had been blessed with a biological child of their own.

Emma would sneak to the garden to gaze at the buttercups; the colors in sharp contrast to the inside of the archaic building. The garden that night was filled with the aroma of the sweet flowers. The stars and the moon lightly illuminated the colorful blossoms. That is where she first saw him.

The translucent outline of a young child.

She could make out his brown hair, pale skin, and hazel eyes. Her curiosity pulled her to the boy. The closer she got, the colder her surroundings became. She could see her breath as she called out to him. "Hey, who are you?" she asked curiously.

The boy only smiled. "Hello, my name is Henry. Can I be your friend?"

Emma couldn't stop her smile. She didn't have any friends at all; the other kids bullied her by calling her names or taking her things. She had told Mother Superior on them, but that only made things worse.

Nothing else mattered. She had her friend Henry and that was all she needed. He gave her hope. They played together; their favorite game was hide and seek.

The other kids would look at her oddly. The name-calling hadn't been creative, mostly calling her crazy or making fun of her imaginary friend. It should scare her that no one else could see her friend but instead, she felt special. He would only appear to her. Mother Superior would tell the kids that there was nothing wrong with having an imaginary friend.

Henry would encourage her to dream. He would tell her to believe in herself as he did. Following her best friend's advice, she recorded a short song on an old audio tape recorder she found but was interrupted by an older girl in the group. "Poor little Emma, do you really think you are good enough?" the mean girl asked with crossed arms as she glanced at the paper advertisement for a singing competition. "Don't you know Emma? No one wants to hear an orphan sing and you will be alone forever like the rest of us. You are not special." The mean girl walked out of the room.

Emma stared at the ad and crumpled it. "Emma, don't listen to her. She is just jealous because she knows how special you are." Henry smiled as he stood in front of her.

Throughout the rejection, she maintained hope because of her old friend. She never felt alone. Henry had become her constant, her rock.

Sadly there were days when she couldn't shake the feeling of not belonging.

On a fine day, a day that should be a happy day, eleven-year-old Emma and the other younger kids watch as a little girl left in a car for her new home with her adoptive parents. Mother Superior stands next to Emma, as the young girl stared with longing after the family now fading away into the horizon. "Emma, you will have a family someday too."

Once Emma is back in her room she cannot help but mourn for the dream that is slowly dying as she grows older.

The cold gust of air announces her oldest friend's arrival. "Henry, I wanna be alone."

The boy's image solidifies as he smiles at her. "Emma, someday you will have the home you deserve. Once I had a family too, but it wasn't full of love. My mother gave me up to give me my best chance. She was young and fell in love with someone that only wanted to take advantage of her. She left me in a basket outside the door of this very orphanage. I was adopted as a baby but my mother never loved me," Henry sadly confessed. "That is why I'm here. She liked to push me to conquer my fears and one time she pushed too far." He shrugged.

"Oh, Henry." Emma wanted to hug her friend. "How do you know all of this?"

"I don't know how but I just know. I believe that is why I'm here." His form started fading, "I'll leave you alone now. Just remember that you will find the home you deserve. I'll help you find it." He was gone. She knew in her heart that he was right but the pain lingered a while longer.

~~~At Age Thirteen

She had tried to fill the void. She had been placed at several foster homes as she was getting older but nothing stuck. Sometimes she would run away. Or towards something. She still didn't know which one it was.

On one of those occasions, Emma finds herself living on the streets. She is ripping out pages from a fairytale book she had found in the trash. She starts burning the pages to keep warm. As she reaches the page from The Ugly Duckling story, an old friend makes an appearance, although he's clearer than normal. Henry smiles fondly at her. "Emma, stop. Don't do it. You are a lot like that duckling. I think that is why your name is so fitting. This story is about transformation." He smiles. "Do you know what that duckling turns into? A beautiful Swan."

Emma returns the smile and whispers, "I think the duckling was always a swan and didn't know it."

"You might be right but I think she turned into a swan because of the power of belief, and if someone believes in something hard enough, they can change their fate. Emma, if you don't want to be with those families, Mother Superior will always have a place for you at the convent."

~~~At Age Sixteen

Emma becomes a beautiful young lady but somehow that doesn't make life easier for her. Some of the homes interested in her have less than genuine concern for her well being. All they care about is the money they get paid for keeping her. Once she becomes more trouble than she is worth is sent back to the orphanage. She keeps to herself to stay away from trouble but inevitably it finds her. Whether it be harassment from the other kids or unwanted attention from the husbands and the wives turning a blind eye to the unwanted touches, Henry is always with her protecting her. He saves her, always interrupting at the perfect moment with a loud door slam, breaking things; whatever it takes to stop the advances.

Emma decides that it's time to make her own luck. She hops on a bus to Arizona. In Phoenix, she enters a store, her stomach growling. She goes to steal a box of Poptarts, which are her favorite. She notices a girl watching her, but the latter quickly walks away. Emma goes back to the task at hand, food. She conceals the box of pastries in her jacket. Emma slowly begins her escape when a store employee stops her and is about to call Security. The other girl comes to the rescue approaching Emma with a shopping cart smiling. "Thanks for waiting while I went to go get the card to pay for the food. Did you find them?" The employee doesn't seem to believe them. "Come on, let's go pay." The girl encourages Emma to follow her and discreetly put the Poptarts in the cart. The employee follows them to the checkout where the girl pays with a credit card. Emma was relieved that her cover wasn't blown.

Once outside, Emma tells the girl "Thanks for helping me."

"No problem, my name is Lily. What's yours?"

"Emma."

They become friends. Emma assumes Lily is like her, an unwanted orphan. They both notice a man following them, and Emma believes he is a social worker trying to return Lily to her group home. They manage to lose the man. They find a vacant home that they decide to squat in for the night.

Inside the house while they're playing home, Emma notices a star imprint on Lily's wrist. Lily tells her it makes her special so she draws a matching one on Emma's wrist. The two girls smile at each other. While exploring the house, they find a video camera and record themselves pledging friendship forever.

Later that night, somehow the man that was following them tracked them down. Annoyed, Emma confronts the man as he exits his car. "We are not going back!"

The man smiles. "I'm here to take my daughter home. We have been worried sick."

Emma is shocked. "Daughter? You are not here to take her back to her foster family?"

"No, she is our daughter."

Emma feels betrayed. She walks to Lily. "Your father is here for you."

Emma doesn't stop walking as she leaves her friend behind.

Lily screams out Emma's name but is ignored.

Emma rubs off the star Lily had drawn on her wrist.

She misses Henry; he hasn't shown up for some time now. Perhaps he finally tired of her.

A few months later Emma's new foster family already had two boys. Things are going well. In fact they're even taking her on her first camping trip the following morning. She is so excited that she decides to go pack to be ready. While she is packing she is searching the garage for her sleeping bag and finds Lily hiding out there. Emma can't believe she is there. Emma hisses, "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to apologize. I'm sorry, but I didn't lie about being an orphan. We are alike. The difference is that I was adopted.''

Emma scoffs. "We are not alike. I don't have a family," she sniffles. "No one cares if I run away, no one will come looking for me. So no we are not alike. You should leave before my foster parents see you."

Sadly it's too late.

"Emma, did you find the sleeping bag?" her foster father asked as he approached the garage. He reaches the garage and stares at Emma and Lily. "Who is this?"

"Oh hi, my name is Lily. I'm new to the neighborhood."

Lily's ease at lying should have been a warning to Emma, and it led to Emma begging Lily to leave. The girl refused to leave without her missing crescent moon necklace. Lily's true colors were shown when she steals from Emma's foster family After a few calls, her foster father finds out the truth. Her new foster father had been furious that she had knowingly allowed a criminal near his children. By the end of the night, Emma was left with nothing. Emma grabs her things and runs. At the bus station, Lily approaches her to apologize but Emma doesn't want to hear it. Lily begs her to stay together that she is the only light in her life. Emma walks away from Lily one final time.

Months later Emma ends up in a group home in Richfield, Minnesota. Somehow the camera was still in her possession. One of the older boys noticed it and wanted to take it away from her. She screamed for him to let go of it. Miss Fisher had quickly intervened and promptly returned the camera to Emma. Once the foster mother returned to her activities before the altercation the bully warned Emma of the consequences of not turning over the camera to him. Emma still refused to give it to him. That night she is caught mid escape by Sarah the foster mom. In a moment of conspiracy between the two she tells Emma that the boy is afraid of spiders and where she can find some rubber spiders. Emma decides to stick around. Maybe she is home.

Sometime later, while Emma is at a carnival with Sarah alone, Sarah tells Emma that she is a special girl. Emma starts to feel nervous. She had seen papers from an agency in Sarah's purse. Emma assumes this treat is a goodbye. However, Sarah confesses that she wants to adopt her. Sarah knows Emma might not see her as a mother, but she will be happy to be like an older sister to her. Everything seems to be falling into place for her and she remembers Henry always told her that she would find a home. She misses Henry terribly but she still feels him with her.

The pair are waiting for their bus ride. Suddenly Sarah pushes her in front of oncoming traffic. Before she can think, Emma is pushed onto the sidewalk by an unseen force- Henry. Emma glares at Sarah and flees after realizing that Sarah Fisher is a lunatic who never truly loved her. Emma runs away and never returns.

Seventeen-year old Emma ends up in Portland, OR after getting emancipated before she turns eighteen. She notices an old yellow bug. The car is an antique, she rationalizes; no one would miss it. She is about to break into the car when a whisper stops her. "Emma, don't do it."

She pauses, "Henry?"

"Emma, please don't do it. This will not lead you to your happy ending." Emma's breath hitches, and she slowly walks away from the vehicle. The decision is easy to make because she trusts her only friend.

Minutes later, inside the same yellow car's backseat a man wakes up from a nap.

Across the sea, three men say goodbye to a loved one. The younger two hold each other as their tears fall. The older man, stands behind them promising undying devotion to the boys he now considers his. "My lovely Alice, I promise to take care of your boys as if they were mine. I will guide them and ensure for them to be good men," Dakkar Nemo pledges his lost love. He had met Alice Jones shortly after her husband abandoned her with two young sons. The youngest of the two was only a few months old when he met them, but he was now 17 years old. The slightly older man had become smitten with the young mother soon after their first meeting. Alice had gotten cancer. She had won a few battles but overall lost the war. After her death, in order to start over and provide the young men with a fresh start they leave England and travel to the United States.

Dakkar Nemo had had an exceptional Naval career. He retired not long after he lost his love, and was able to start a successful business in America. They had found their new home in Storybrooke, Maine.

Although Alice Jones had never married Dakkar Nemo, her two boys had grown to love the man that doted on their beloved mother.

The eldest boy enlists in the Navy following in his father's steps. The youngest decided to stay in their new home.

~~~At Age Twenty-One

Emma continues her life of petty crime, just enough to survive on. For years she was able to get away with it. While traveling back to the Maine area where she was found as a baby, she asks an old lady at the local diner for information about anyone who might remember the incident, but she receives nothing. Escaping her troubled past with the law just in time, each time it catches up with her.

She was so close to the orphanage she had called home in her youth. While at the local library she was so lost in her research she didn't notice an older woman sitting down next to her. The lady looked over Emma's shoulder guessing that the abandoned baby was Emma. A startled Emma turns to leave. "I know you stole from stores in Portland and you finally got arrested and skipped bail."

Emma looks back at the woman and tenses; she has a feeling the woman wants to apprehend her. Emma does what she has learned to do best and runs, leaving her research behind. The woman catches up with Emma at the bus station. A defeated Emma goes with the woman, whose name she learned is Cleo.

They go to a motel. Cleo handcuffed her bounty to the bedpost, and decides to jump in the shower.

While the bondswoman is in the shower Emma picks the handcuffs lock easily and steals money from Cleo's wallet. Emma finds an old picture of a girl she suspects is the woman's daughter. Emma is about to leave, but she spots Cleo's laptop which has access to courthouse documents. She does some quick browsing, and discovers the Camden County Courthouse has a file on her.

Cleo gets out of the restroom to find Emma staring at the computer screen. In a moment of weakness, Cleo decides to help her. Emma reminds her of her daughter. They drive to Camden to get the file. "Emma, this file might not have the answers you are looking for or want to see.."

Emma looks at the woman, "I have to try."

Even with Cleo's help the search had been pointless. No solid leads to follow. Days had become weeks and Cleo notices the disappointment in Emma each time they reached a dead end.

"Do you see this?" Cleo points to her red jacket.

"Yeah, what about it? It's just a jacket."

"No Emma, this is my armor. You need to learn how to protect yourself."

Emma's tear-filled eyes, "I just want to go home."

"Emma, I think you should let go of the past, your parents. Sweetie, you're not going to find them. You should pay for your crimes, and start a new life."

"You don't care about me. All you care about is your payout for taking me in."

Cleo stares at Emma, her guilt over giving up her daughter is haunting her.

"I'm going to help you."

"Why would you want to help me?"

"You remind me of my daughter." With those words, Cleo decides to take Emma under her wing. Cleo had gotten some legal help and in the end, Emma was only given community service since her petty crimes had not been too costly.

Emma convinces Cleo to look for her daughter.

"What if she doesn't want to see me?"

"If I was her…. Hell I am her! If I was in her shoes, I'd want to see my parents," Emma says sadly. "It won't be easy but isn't she worth it?"

Working together they soon find Cleo's daughter, Tasha Morris. They find her in Boston working in a clothing store. The reunion is a whirlwind of emotions at first but in the end, it's the calm after the storm.

A few years later they go into business together using their combined savings to open a bonds company, Fox Swan Armour Bonds and PI. They stay in Boston in order for Cleo to stay close to her daughter. Emma understands why they don't want to be apart.

Henry has been quiet since Cleo found her. But Emma tries to not let the yearning of a family of her own haunt her.

~~~At Age Twenty-Four

Things were good for Emma. She was part of a successful business, and Cleo and Tasha were the closest thing to family she had. But something was still missing.

Chasing after her newest skip, a wannabe writer, Emma ends up in a small town in Maine. Storybrooke by all accounts appeared to be straight out of a fairy tale. Perhaps that is what drew the writer to it. He had a good lead on her and she was losing him as she was approaching the corner. Should she go straight or turn the corner? Emma turn - a voice from the past tells her. She turns, except now she's not running into her skip, but a different man as they collide. They both fall and her skip is gone.

Emma mutters, "Shit" as she turns to the cause of her lost paycheck.

Beautiful blue eyes stare up at her from his spot on the floor. He turns to gather his things. "Lass, I'm sorry about that."

"Yeah, well he got away," she sighs dramatically. "What's all that?" she asked as she pointed at the objects he was putting in a box. Some hooks, an iron wolf, and other decorative items.

"Just some of my work," he says as he finally rises to his feet and extends his free hand for her to hold.

She hesitates for a second before he is pulling her up. "So what do you do?"

"I'm a blacksmith."

"What are you, two hundred or something?"

He laughs. "It's mostly artistic work with iron. I do what blacksmiths did in the old days too when needed."

"How about you, lass? What were you in such a hurry to capture?"

"Well, I'm a bail bonds person, and I was chasing a big pay day. He gave me the slip. I will get him, it's just going to take longer than I wanted."

"Ah, you're a tough lass. I'm sure you will get your man." He looked at his box. Nothing seemed damaged. "I'm sorry, where are my manners. My name is Killian Jones."

She smiled. "I'm Emma Swan. I guess I better go. It was nice meeting you. Sort of." She was about to walk away, this time in the opposite direction.

"Swan, if you're going to stick around, you should go to Granny's Inn. That's the only hotel in town. Unless your man has family here, you should probably find him there."

"Yeah, cause I didn't think about that, but thanks." She didn't mean to be snarky. It wasn't his fault she lost the skip. "I'm sure the dude is long gone. I was just going to go see if I could get something to eat. Then, maybe see if I get lucky and get a lead."

"If you don't mind some company, I was going to get lunch myself."

Emma was hungry and the guy had been nice. There's something about him that makes her feel comfortable and apparently her stomach agrees, so it growls. "Okay, so where are we going?"

Killian smiles. "Come along, Granny's Diner is this way." He points in the direction that she was coming from.

Emma vaguely remembers seeing the little diner on her drive into town. It was a quick walk to the diner from where they were. The bell rings as they enter and they find a seat.

"This feels very cozy, very homey."

"Aye, it is. Granny is everyone's grandmum."

"So what do you recommend?"

He looks at her and smiles. "I have a feeling you will love the grilled cheese with onion rings."

The pair enjoys their meal. Killian introduces Emma to the local Sheriff, a greying, good looking mid-forties man, and his perfect counterpart, his bubbly, energetic wife in hopes that he can help with finding the elusive skip.

With the Sheriff and his wife's information on a potential match for her skip, Emma was able to use the background they'd given her to track him down. Turns out the wannabe writer was the adoptive son of the town carpenter. Emma's heart broke for the kind old man as she cuffed his son. She was happy that Sheriff Nolan was there to explain to the man the situation his son, August, was in. Emma had exchanged cards with the Sheriff.

Emma was about to leave the town when Killian stops her to give her a small token. He had one of his first sculptures with him, a swan. She hands him a card just in case he ever needs it.

A couple of days after meeting the young bail bonds woman, the Nolans can't stop thinking about her. Sheriff Nolan was talking with his wife about it. "Sweetheart, I know what you're thinking, and I-" "David, I know what you're going to say. That it's not her and that you don't want me to get my hopes up. I mean we don't know anything about her. But, I can't help it." His wife, Mary Margaret, puts her hand on her heart. "This time, it's different. I feel it here, and it's not because of her name or because she has my chin or that she has your hair. This is it. Our girl found us." She finishes with tears in her eyes.

"Sweetheart, how can you be so sure she's an orphan or ever was?" He didn't want to have to pick up the pieces of her broken heart once more.

"She had a look in her eyes. That look was there when we told her about Marco adopting August as a young boy, and again when we told her he had been getting in trouble with that Cassidy boy, and that the last we saw him was when they stole poor Marco's old yellow Volkswagen and ran away, breaking poor Marco's heart. That was until he showed up here last week. I think that's why she gave them some time to spend together before she hauled him away."

"What are you planning on doing? You can't just tell her, she will think we're crazy."

"The card she gave you says Private Investigator too, right? Well, I'm going to call the number and speak to her boss."

~~~Weeks Later

Back in Boston, Emma can't shake the feeling that she's missing something. She had stayed in touch with both Killian and the Nolans. Killian in particular was never far from her mind, her eyes always landing on the swan sculpture that he had given her that day. On her birthday, she had chosen to stay home. Cleo and Tasha had given her their gifts earlier. Tasha gave her a red leather jacket from the store she worked at. Cleo, for her part, gifted her a paid week off work and insisted, with a wink, that she return to the small town that had her so captivated. All Emma could do was promise she'd think about it.

As Emma was about to light the candle on her twenty-fifth birthday cupcake, there was a soft knock on her door. She wasn't expecting anyone so she approached the door cautiously.

She opened the door and there stood a smiling Killian Jones, with a single red middlemist.

"Uh, Killian, what are you doing here?" Her wide green eyes blinked, before narrowing in suspicion. "And how did you know where I live?".

"Lass, may I come in? I promise I will answer whatever questions you might have." His blinding smile warmed her heart.

"Ok, but don't think I'm taking my eyes off of you for a second."

"I would despair if you did." Killian slowly entered her apartment.

Emma guided him to the sofa in her living room.

"I made a delivery not far from here, and I thought I could surprise you. I hope I'm not overstepping," he sighs.

"So how did you find out my address? I hope you're not some kind of crazy stalker."

He smiles. "I called your office. Your boss said you were off."

"Oh. Cleo told you?"

"She also said today was your birthday."

"Cleo has a big mouth," she sighs. "I always spend my birthday alone."

"She also said you had a week off, and perhaps you would consider going to Storybrooke?" he asked with a hopeful tinge to his voice.

Reluctantly Emma agrees. She feels a connection with the blacksmith that she simply cannot ignore.

Cleo hesitantly agrees to meet with Mary Margaret, where Mary Margaret shares her suspicions about her connection to Emma. Cleo nodded her agreement, saying she will look into it. If she can help Emma find her family like Emma helped her find her lost daughter, she will.

While Emma is in Storybrooke, Cleo visits the Convent of the Sisters of Saint Meissa and speaks with Mother Superior. It had been a miracle to Cleo's ears when they told her that they stored items left behind in the attic. After a few apologies about the oversight from the nuns, they give her a box labeled Emma. Once she is alone in her car, with shaking hands she opens the box. Inside, she finds a blanket with a torn corner just as Mary Margaret described.

Cleo headed towards Storybrooke to meet with Mary Margaret and David Nolan to confirm their suspicions.

Killian and Emma are enjoying their food at Granny's when a text message alert chimes.

"Is something wrong, love?"

"I don't think so, it's Cleo. She wants me to meet her at the Sheriff's office."

"Are you sure nothing is wrong? Your eyebrows are furrowed together," he says, concerned.

"No, it's just that she never calls me on my time off." She sighs, "she's also driving out here."

"If you want, I can go with you," Killian offers.

After a soft encouraging whisper from an old friend she hadn't heard from in a while, without thinking Emma nods.

They arrive at the station soon after.

Sheriff Nolan is waiting for them when he notices the blossoming bond between the town's blacksmith and the lovely bondswoman who happens to share his wife's chin.

Emma turns to Killian nervously. What the hell is going on? Killian squeezes her hand in support as they follow the Sheriff to the interrogation room.

Cleo is sitting next to Mary Margaret Nolan. A box is set on the table. Cleo smiles at her. "Hello, Emma. Please, sit down. You too Mr. Jones."

Killian, always the gentleman, pulled a chair out for her to sit while Mary Margaret is quiet, watching the scene unfold in front of her. David sits next to his wife and immediately holds her hand.

Emma turns to Cleo, "Okay, so what's going on?"

Cleo smiles, "I'll let Sheriff Nolan explain."

Sheriff Nolan clears his throat. "Twenty-five years ago, there were a series of kidnappings. Four newborns were stolen from St. Joseph Hospital during the night shift. The police were able to recover two children right away once the kidnapper was captured. A third was recovered almost a month later. The child had been found by an older couple and they had watched the news. However, there was one child that was not found. Our child. We tried everything. Private Investigators rewards for information, but since the woman had snapped when she took the children, she was of no help to us. She was a nurse at the hospital at the time of the kidnappings. It turned out years before, she had lost her own daughter. Once in custody, though, the woman still remained unresponsive and unwilling to cooperate with police about the whereabouts of the last child. We don't know all the details yet and to be honest, we don't care." David chokes up and turns to his wife, "Mary Margaret could you please continue?"

Mary Margaret sniffles, "We had been on vacation and I went into labor. We never thought that our little girl would be kidnapped at birth. We tried looking for her, but every lead we found was a dead end. Yet we never lost hope. I held on to this for twenty-five years. This is part of a blanket Granny knit for our little girl along with this matching hat." The little hat had twin buttercups on each side.

Cleo smiled, "You will find that the torn piece is a perfect fit to this one." She pulled out a baby blanket with the name Emma with a buttercup next to the name.

Emma is staring at the blanket, her eyes tearing. "What are you saying?"

"Emma, I was so wrong to discourage you from looking. I truly thought I was helping you and protecting you from disappointment. This is your blanket. Mother Superior gave it to me. She was supposed to give it to you, but you never returned."

Killian squeezes her hand gently. "Emma, love, I think you found your family."

"How can you be so sure?" Emma shakingly asks.

Mary Margaret laughs, "For one thing, you have my chin and this is the same blanket I wrapped you in as a baby. But if you need more proof, I'm sure we can get a DNA test. I don't need it, we don't need it." Mary Margaret points to her husband.

Emma still cannot believe it. "I-"

Killian smiles. "Emma, when you love someone you just know."

"I think I need a moment." Emma gets up and rushes out of the room.

Emma walked to her car and needed to think. While contemplating a place to go, she hears footsteps approaching. "Swan, I know you said you needed a moment alone but I was hoping you wouldn't mind if I took you to the perfect spot. If you would allow me to accompany you?" Emma stares at him with teary eyes and agrees.

Emma and Killian arrive at Storybrooke Heritage Park and walk to his favorite bench by the duck pond. They sit in silence as they watch a family of swans swim.

Emma turns to Killian, "I can't believe it's real."

Killian smiles. "It's real. I had wondered why they didn't have kids and Granny told me they had a little girl but it wasn't her story to tell. Emma love, you deserve this. They deserve it too. Please, don't shut them out."

"No, it's just I always wondered why I wasn't enough but I never thought that they were suffering as much as I was."

Killian slowly grabs her face and gently wipes the tears away. "The wondering is over, and now you can have the family you always wanted. Give them a chance, don't lose more time."

Emma smiled, she knew he was right. As crazy as it sounds, it wasn't their fault. Some unbalanced lady did this to them. Should she feel bad for that lady? Because mental issues are horrible, but in this moment she didn't.

"Okay, we can go back." Emma grabbed Killian's hand.

On the way back to the station, she couldn't help but be thankful for meeting Killian; he was nice and sweet. She wasn't blind, he was handsome. She felt connected to him and it was beyond the physical attraction.

Killian could feel her eyes on him. He fights the urge to run his hand through his hair to scratch behind his ear. He feels connected to her. He had laughed when the thought first occurred to him. It was crazy, they've known each other for such a short period. He was smitten, though; that was a given.

Once back at the station, Emma hesitantly embraces her parents for the first time.

Cleo advises her to stick around in Storybrooke longer to get to know her family.

After a few months of living with her parents, Emma finally gives in. She moves permanently to Storybrooke, her life is here. She has loving parents and she had started dating Killian. Their first date had been an experience. Her mother had been so excited, they had gone shopping for a dress to wear and had taken so many pictures of her and Killian. Emma wore a light pink dress that had a v neckline with a bodice and belt. Killian wore his dark jeans, a black shirt, and vest. Her father had done the overprotective thing even though he has known Killian longer than her. She acted like it bothered her, but deep inside it made her smile.

One year and a short courtship later, Emma and Killian marry in an intimate wedding at Storybrooke Park Heritage. Family and close friends gathered to congratulate the pair.

Nine months later they welcome twins Hope and Henry Jones. The little girl shared her dazzling blue eyes with Killian. The boy had hazel eyes that reminded her of an old friend.

This was a new beginning for them all.

Tagging:

@hookedonapirate @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @seriouslyhooked @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @revanmeetra87 @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @kymbersmith-90 @branlovestowrite @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @killianjonesownsmyheart1​ @thisonesatellite​ @thesschesthair​ @winterbythesea​ @stahlop​ @resident-of-storybrooke​  @superchocovian​  @lfh1226-linda​ @artistic-writer​​ @thislassishooked​ @shardminds​ @winterbaby89​ @xhookswenchx​

[polar-stars]

2nd out of 5 parts of an ask by @smokeprincess24

Mika Aldini

👹 How does you OC act around different people and how does their personality change to match the environment they’re in? How do they act with: friends, family, strangers, children or their lover(s)?

Mika has some hesitance in exposing her soft, romantic side to others and is prone to deny it. She only lets people she truly trusts have insight into some of her rosy fantasies. Her mom is the one who she’s most comfortable talking about such things. 

Other than that, there’s not much of her behavior that differs depending on who she’s talking about it. 

🍅 How easily is your OC embarassed? What subjects make them flush and why? What event has made your OC the most embarassed they’ve ever been?

Mika is VERY easily embarrassed. Wether it’s about her being too obvious about her crush on Hiraku and it being pointed out, or her father’s way too open display of his love and affection for his only child…there’s a lot that can make Mika flush. 

💥 Are there any emotions your OC doesn’t know how to deal with, doesn’t understand or hates having to feel? Any reason behind this?

Actual heartbreak is something she’ll greatly struggle with. She has not quite suffered from one yet but has only seen it in works of fiction. Mika always knew in the back of her mind that its something that happens, however she won’t be prepared for just how deeply it can hurt. Given that she always sort-off idolized romance and only ever looks at the pretty parts of it, it’s definitely something that’ll make her feel very miserable.

She’s generally rather inexperienced with feeling plain vulnerable to begin with. Another emotion she’ll struggle with (rather soon) is guilt. 

🏀 Does your OC have any skills that people wouldn’t expect them to have? Do they have a hobby or pass time that others would consider strange or weird? How did they learn this particular skill or pick up this hobby?

Mika knows both how to ski and snowboard! People know that she’s rather sporty but the fact that she possesses these skills is a little surprising to some because many find it hard to picture the sun-loving, fiery Mika in snow to begin with ahdhd. 

Well, she’s not an all too big fan of winter and when she does end up in a snowy area during the cold months she does believe that doing sport is just the best way to deal with it. 

⭐ Does your OC like to sleep alone or do they enjoy sharing their bed? Have they been to any sleepovers? Have they ever been camping? What did they think of the experiences if so?

Mika has not much experience sharing a bed yet. It’s something she imagines as very comforting and lovely though and she wishes to experience it someday with someone she loves.  

🍏 When your OC says “I had a bad day” what does that tend to mean? Is it really as bad as they’re saying or are they being a bit dramatic?

Mika, much like Chieko, has a leaning to be overdramatic at times. So a „bad day“ from Mika-understanding is most likely a string of some annoying and frustrating events, but something she’ll most likely be over with the next day. 

🐉 How religious is your OC? Do they pray to any god(s) or do they not believe in that kind of stuff? What is their view of religion in general? Where do they believe people go when they die? If your OC is not religious why not and what do they believe in otherwise?

Mika is Christian and she’s registered in the Catholic Church, but later in life actually finds herself leaning more towards Protestantism. 

She does believe in God and visits Church to important occasions like Christmas, Easter and so on but she does not go there every Sunday. 

💧 What is something from your OC’s past they’re the most ashamed of and why? What is something they’re really proud of? And lastly what is something in their past that could make them shake with dread?

She’s mainly embarrassed by some of her more intensive outbursts over more trivial things but what she’ll truly look back upon in shame will come later on. 

What she’s so far the most proudest of is the time when she cooked for the Trattoria-Aldini-Branch in Rome and the practicum Takumi arranged her in Mizuhara’s “Ristorante F” after her graduation from middle school, as preparation for her Stagiares. 

🐟 What was your OC like as a baby? What were they like as a child? A teenager? An adult? How do you think they’ll develop ten years into their future? Twenty years? Will they live to old age?

Mika, as baby, was pretty loud and demanding. She began crawling relatively early and began crying and screaming the moment she wanted something. She certainly kept her parents of her feet.

Mika was a happy, adventure-loving child who certainly enjoyed to be outside a lot. She learned swimming at an early age and her love for dancing showed as soon as she could walk, honestly. She had always been a little feisty but to her family she’d also expose a love for plushies and Disney princesses.

As a teen, she’d become a confident and bold individual who’s tired of being the sole young chef of Tuscany and out to find a worthy rival. Mika certainly lives for the thrill of the challenges of Totsuki and practically embraces the competitive atmosphere. At the same time, her love for Disney movies involving princesses has ultimately developed in a deep fascination with all things romance and a strong longing to experience it herself.

As an adult Mika will have grown in experience regarding romance and does see everything a little less through rosy lens. She’ll remain a strong individual in her adulthood, who knows what she wants and how to step up against anyone who decides to be an obstacle. She’ll be a little calmer though and have her temper under a bit better control. 

🍇 Does your OC have any bad habits? Does your OC have any addictions like smoking or drinking? How did they fall into these habits and why? 

At times she does loose her temper a bit too quickly and it’s not always necessary to yell right away. She also tends to procrastinate when it comes to studying tings unrelated to cooking.

She drinks on parties and she does have a little tendency to party a lil’ harder than necessary sometimes. 

🔮What does your OC think is their best trait. What is actually their best trait? What about their flaws? Are they one to admit these flaws or do they like to pretend they’re perfect?

Mika thinks her best trait is her courage and I’d agree with her on that! 

A major flaw of her’s is that she can be a little bit inattentive to the people around her at times. She’s very unaware of this though. 

🌸 What’s a sentence that would make your OC’s day better? One that would make them laugh? One that would make their day worse? Why? What words would you have to say to them to completely ruin their day?

“Yukihira Hiraku is about to have a Shokugeki!” is a sentence that always puts her mood up. She loves watching Hiraku’s Shokugekis! She gets to see the person she admires in action and it’s also just a great experience overall as his matches are certainly thrilling, captivating and the rest of the audience is very into it as well.

A sentence that could ruin her day is anything that suggests something bad happened to Hiroshi. She’ll either end up pissed off at whoever might hurted him or worried for the rest of the day. 

🌷 How much effort does your OC put into their looks? Do they care much about how they’re dressed or what their hair looks like or are they not bothered? Could they be considered a snob or a slob?

She has a pretty well-developed fashion sense and does take her fine time choosing her outfits, no matter the occasion (unless it’s a school day because y’know then she knows what to put on: the uniform). She also takes good care of her skin, possesses some make-up skill and takes VERY LONG to shower. It’s all things she honestly just picked up from her parents mostly. 

❤️ What inspired you to make this OC? How long have you had them? How have they changed in the time you’ve been developing them?

Mika is one of the oldest Fanchilds of mine. She’s the fifth to ever be created, I think. She was created on that faithful night in 2016 where I decided to create more fankids after I had designed Chieko a few days or so earlier and took my drawing-tools to bed to sketch and color them ahdhd. Takumi/Ikumi is one of my first ships in the series as well and, back then, I didn’t saw much else option for either of them...so my decision to let them have a child was pretty automatic.

Mika did not change all too much over the years, really. What mostly got added recently is her frustrating love-triangle situation and also her story was just ironed out more over the years ahdhd but character-wise she remained more or less the same. Takumi and Ikumi honestly share a lot of the same character traits in the end and I think that’s a reason for that. 

🧡 What traits of your own do you see in this OC? Are they a little bit self-inserty? Don’t be shy, we all put parts of ourselves into the creations we love!

Hm, I don’t think I have all too much in common with Mika. She’s very brave and challenge-enthusiastic and I’m....one of the greatest cowards you’ll ever meet being frank. 

What we do share I guess is a strong love for the sea. Also, I do enjoy dancing (although I am not anywhere near the level she is) And I mean, she cooks Italian which is one of my favourite cuisines...but there’s really not much she takes after me ahdhd. She has much more in common with my mom than me being real. 

💚 Are you writing anything with this OC or planning on writing anything for them? Do you rp with them or are they just for fun to mess around with?

I have a few ideas but I don’t know if I’ll get to it soon.

💗 Ramble a bit about this character!

Mika, Mika, our beautiful helpless romantic Mika. Did I mention already how greatly her love-situation frustrates me? I really want her, the romance fanatic, to get happy with someone but ahhh who?? She’s also one of my first OCs and actually pretty dear to me and ahhh, WHY?!

But meep, aside from that and my whining about a situation I drove myself into; Mika is honestly really fun to write and I love the trio she’ll have going on with Kimiko & Hiroshi. It mirrors the classic Sōma/Megumi/Takumi-Trio in certain ways but it won’t be an exact rehash either so ahh. I’ll just enjoy writing this I think. 

[burnouts3s3]

Let's Talk About: Carl Foutley and Hoodsey

(Disclaimer: The following is a non-profit unprofessional blog post written by an unprofessional blog poster. All purported facts and statement are little more than the subjective, biased opinion of said blog poster. In other words, don’t take anything I say too seriously.

"Let's Talk About" is a series of articles focused on individual character or characters and their development and commentary throughout the work in question. THIS IS NOT A REVIEW OF THE WORK, but rather what the character says about the world around them.  If you wish to read a strict review, please click on the link to read it. My reviews focus more on the purely technical aspects of the work. There are bad characters with good messages. There are good characters with bad messages and so on and so forth. Thank you.

Author’s Note: Okay, this is going to be a weird one. Originally, I wanted to do a review of As Told By Ginger, one of my favorite childhood shows and cartoon I sincerely hope people get to watch. But, thanks to Paramount, the studio that owns Nickelodeon and, by proxy, ATBG, trying to buy the official releases of this show have been a nightmare! While Paramount ‘has’ released DVDs of the show, they are very sparse and leave out way too many episodes. Even attempts to upload episodes to Youtube have been shut down by Paramount. For some reason, Nickelodeon refuses to sell episodes of the show digitally through venues like Amazon or itunes. As such, I’m going to be skipping over my review of this show and focusing on a topic near and dear to my heart.)

Let's Talk About: Carl Foutley and Hoodsey

As Told By Ginger is probably one of my favorite childhood shows growing up. The characters felt real. The situations were relatable and the humor was on point.

For those who don’t know, As Told By Ginger was a Nickelodeon Cartoon that ran through the 2000’s that depicted the everyday life of Ginger Foutley, a middle school student who tries to get through her day to day  by writing in her journal. It was a simple premise but executed spectacularly thanks to the animation studio of Klasky Csupo (who also did other shows such as Rugrats, the Wild Thornberrys and Rocket Power).

While Ginger would be dealing with her problem (such as a cute boy who’s using her to get a good grade in Chemistry class or helping her friends, Dodie Biship and Macie Lightfoot, with a problem), her younger brother who was in Elementary School, Carl Foutley, and Dodie’s younger brother, Robert Joseph “Hoodsey” Bishop, would be getting into trouble.

In his Doghouse (a memory Carl holds onto in hopes his runaway dog, Monster, will return), he and Hoodsey create ideas to swindle his classmates. Carl and Hoodsey would usually have their own subplot where in Carl hatches a scheme to get money, get revenge or attempt to get his petrified eyeball away from Blake Gripling.

See, producers and executives are a bit wary to catering to a single demographic. In ATBG’s case, catering to girls. (To be fair, even in the original pilot Carl and Hoodsey were there). As such, while Ginger and Dodie were doing “girly” or “feminine” things, Carl and Hoodsey were doing “boy” things and had the share of the gross out humor.

It’d be easy for Carl and Hoodsey just to be the comic relief. Their material is funny and they break up a lot of the dramatic moments with their antics. But as the series progressed, I began to realize that the show runners were doing a lot more with the two than I realized.

For example, I thought there was a strong sense of “children during the face of mortality”.  When Hoodsey and Dodie’s grandmother dies in “Losing Nana Bishop”, Hoodsey has a different reaction from the rest of his family. See, while Dodie, his father and his mother are all grief stricken with the loss of his grandmother,  Hoodsey isn’t. And he feels weird about it, saying “But I don’t feel sad, Carl.”. A child realizing their apathetic towards their own relation’s death is a strangely mature arc to go through. Hoodsey eventually comes around saying he will miss her but in his own way stating “I’ll never look at blue foam or a raisin and not remember how Nana used to laugh at me and pinch my cheek really hard."

This happens earlier in the series. Carl begins a sort of May-December Romance with Maude, an elderly lady he meets at a nursing home. (To be fair, it’s said that these feelings only come from Carl and Maude doesn’t return his feelings but finds him entertaining company). As Carl prepares to propose to her, Maude dies and Carl has to deal with it.

But the biggest impact was during No Hope for Courtney, when Carl realizes Ms. Gordon has retired because Carl pulled a prank too far and traumatized her. Because of that, Carl does everything he can to get her back. Eventually, he wins her over. However, the night before class, Carl wakes up and calls out her name. The next day, it’s revealed that Ms. Gordon died in her sleep. (This was done as a tribute to her voice actress Kathleen Freeman passing away). The final shot is Carl crying over her death.

Religion is also a big part of the show (which is surprising, given that this was a Nickelodeon show meant for children). Carl is an atheist, but it’s only really mentioned in passing when Ginger nearly dies from a burst appendix.

In contrast, Hoodsey is seen more as the more religious of the duo, if not necessarily the more moral. What I mean is that Hoodsey is as willing, if not more so, to get into much trouble as Carl is but Hoodsey does believe in a divine power. We get glimpses of this. When Carl and Hoodsey get Mrs. Gripling’s money so Hoodsey can pretend to be a homeless boy for her (Mrs. Gripling was trying to become the head of a social club and did so by faking to do actual charity work), Hoodsey argues they should give the money back, stating "when the big guy sends me a message, I try to pay attention." In “Losing Nana Bishop”, Hoodsey says that their grandmother is somewhere in “that great big bingo hall in the sky”.

Normally, Christianity vs Atheism debates are reserved for the internet Youtube videos or conservative propaganda pieces. In fact, there’s a scenario you could see how Carl would argue with Hoodsey about religion.Instead, the writers of the show establish this through a clever and subversive way.

Hoodsey believes in Santa Claus while Carl does not. The two get into an argument about how ‘real’ Santa is, with Hoodsey being so devoted to Santa he breaks his friendship with Carl.

Eventually the two bury the hatchet and decide they’re better off laughing at things such as neon signs of reindeer pissing.

"Sure you're cool hanging with a non-believer?" Carl asks Hoodsey.

"To each his own and all that," Hoodsey replies.

What led to Carl’s jadedness towards Santa Claus, Carl replies "Something stupid. I think I used to wish my dad would come home for the Holidays or something like that". This is a reference to the fact that his birth father left his family when he was young.

In the world of sitcoms and cartoons, the showrunners sometimes depict various family units and how they contrast with one another. Carl’s family had a Single mother, Lois Foutley, and Ginger. He was the only male character in the house and the youngest child.

Through the 90’s most shows had nuclear, if dysfunctional, families with a mother and father and multiple children. Even if the sons were often trouble makers, they had father figures to look up to. Bud Bundy had Al, Chris Griffin had Peter, Eric Forman had Red, Bobby Hill had Hank and Bart Simpson had Homer.

Hoodsey, whose parents are still together and haven’t separated, even makes a side comment to Carl "You see how complicated having two parents can be?"

To be fair, as time went on other cartoons and cartoon characters have commented on divorce. Sharon Spitz from Braceface, Pepper Ann Pearson from Pepper Ann, Sammy "Squid" Dullard from Rocket Power, Will Vandom from W.I.T.C.H. and Tino Tonitini from the Weekenders are all products of divorced/separated couples. But whereas their mothers they stay with are considered embarrassing, overprotective, smothering, or strict, the absent father figure is usually idolized and admired, even with their actual presences hidden or built up. For the first times we hear about them, we never actually "see" what Pepper Ann's father and Tino's father looked like until later in the series after they're mentioned.

It's also implied that the absent father figure is the better off or the richer of the two households with a "cool" profession. Pepper Ann's father is a pilot, Squid's father is an executive, Will's father is seen driving a sports car (implying he's wealthy) and Sharon Spitz's father is a rock star. As such, it's seen as an idolization of the absent father figure. "My dad's not here because he's busy being cool somewhere else".

Then, we finally get hints of who Ginger’s father is.

In "Hello Stranger", Ginger gets a congratulations letter for graduating Elementary School (an event, as her friend Darren mentions, that happened ages ago) from her father. Ginger invites her father to attend her poetry reading only for him not to show up. Lois decides to send flowers to Ginger and has them written to be from Ginger's Father (even though he had nothing to do with them). Ginger sees through the guise but thanks her mother anyway.

When we do finally meet Ginger's Father, Jonas, the truth is finally revealed: he is a mall Santa who can't be bothered to make it to her daughter's poetry reading. It's also implied he's not well off financially. "I'm sort of a Jack of all trades and Master of none" he says in a later episode.

When Carl and Jonas do meet on Christmas Day, Hoodsey inadvertently stages a meeting between them, Carl, meets him with scorn and hatred. He even says "My Mom always warned me about getting in a car with a total stranger." Jonas gives Carl a globe full of peanuts, not knowing that Carl is violently allergic to them.

The show doesn't mince words; Jonas Foutley is a deadbeat dad who doesn't know his own children and his attempts to be there fall flat. (To be fair, the show gave him redeeming values such as giving GInger good advice or having him wrestle rogue attacking turkeys).

Ginger and Carl have very different reactions to their birth father. Ginger attempts to get Jonas back into her life as much as possible while Carl wants nothing to do with him.

Consider how strange that is. Ginger, the older female child, idolizes her father while Carl despises him. Carl instead attempts to help Dr. Dave, a recurring character and co-worker of his mother, help woo Lois. Carl who’s the younger child instead feels more comfortable with his step father while Ginger, who would be older and would have more memories of her father leaving her, is dedicated to making her father a part of her life as much as possible.

It’s interesting to see how he, who is barely entering middle school not only wants to embrace his potential new father, but harbors resentment against his birth father. He even goes so far as to address him as Jonas while calling Dr. Dave Dad. Carl even accuses Jonas of conspiring to ruin Lois and Dave's wedding!

In one of the final episodes of the season, Carl helps Lois find a new house. Lois decides to indulge Carl's gross out side and shows off houses that she thinks Carl would like before settling on a real house. Except, throughout the episode, Carl dismisses each of the houses and commits himself to finding an actual home.

When Lois asks why Carl is acting out of character, Carl responds.

"It's my last duty as Man of the House before Dave steps into the role", he says.

Think about that. Carl, despite admitting he loved the creepy and gross houses Lois showed him, decides to take the responsibility of house hunting seriously because he considers it the last duty "as man of the house" before Dave comes in. He is deliberately choosing to step away from his own selfish desires and deciding to 'act like a man'. Not masculine as in gaining muscles or beating up people or acting as an authority figure, but doing something as simple as helping his mother and changing his attitude and behavior.

Consider the context: Carl favors Dr. Dave, a step-father, despite Dave not being his birth father and him acting squeamish and cowardly, more of a man than his actual parent. Why? Because Dave is there and helps his family while Jonas, Carl's birthfather, has been mainly absent from his childhood.

So naturally, Carl's viewpoint of masculinity and manhood are changed. Rather than being assertive of muscular, it's simply being there and supporting his family when he can.

That's strangely profound in a child.

It feels like Carl’s arc is that of maturity. But through the series, attempts into forcing Carl to mature all fail. Ms. Gordo and George (a strict boy scout who uses military training to straighten out Carl), all fail. Attempts to force Carl to destroy the dog house, his secret lair and his nostalgia into hoping his long lost pet, Monster, will come back fail. Even when a classmate tricks Carl into growing up fails. But instead, Carl chooses by his own accord when he's finally ready to destroy his dog house. He chooses to turn his back against pranking. He chooses to help his mother out with the wedding and move.

(It should also be mentioned that Carl was willing to let his dog house be destroyed when George blackmails Carl that by leaving he would cast the blame on Ginger whose program is failing). Then, on Lois’ wedding day, Monster, the dog Carl has been waiting to come back, returns to him.

In some ways, Carl’s story is a view of masculinity but through the lens of grade school boy. Through this sense of jadedness, we see a boy who’s grown weary of the world but works through it by being as gross and angry as possible. But instead of pursing masculinity as a form of power or revenge fantasy, he views it as an aiding tool and someone who genuinely wants to help (even if that help causes more trouble than aids).

Tress MacNille is a voice acting professional who’s shown her merit through shows such as the Simpsons, Futurama and other works. But it’s with Hoodsey that she embodies a character and gives said character real depth. But it’s Jeannie Elias who absolutely delivers as Carl (she also played Botley in Jumpstart 3rd grade adventures).  It’s not uncommon for female voice performers to voice young boys (this is done for a variety of reasons as animated shows can go on for years and female actresses tend to ‘sound’ younger than male ones), but Elias performance while holding a scratchy voice manages to convey anger, sadness, humor and cunning at all the right times. Kudos to her.

The series ends, showing an Adult Ginger reading her book to a group of her adult friends as well as Darren with their child. Hoodsey and Carl are seen sitting next to each other.

Though, there is one detail I do find funny. In an episode, Carl says "I can see Me and Hoodsey being friends 30 Years from now".

I guess some friendships do last a lifetime after all.

https://amzn.to/2UHi4lk

[the-christian-walk]

DON’T BE A HYPOCRITE!

Can I pray for you in any way?

Send any prayer requests to Gods4all@aol.com In Christ, Mark

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The scriptures. May God bless the reading of His holy word.

“Now you, if you call yourself a Jew; if you rely on the law and boast in God; if you know His will and approve of what is superior because you are instructed by the law; if you are convinced that you are a guide for the blind, a light for those who are in the dark, an instructor of the foolish, a teacher of little children, because you have in the law the embodiment of knowledge and truth—you, then, who teach others, do you not teach yourself? You who preach against stealing, do you steal? You who say that people should not commit adultery, do you commit adultery? You who abhor idols, do you rob temples? You who boast in the law, do you dishonor God by breaking the law?”

“As it is written: “God’s name is blasphemed among the Gentiles because of you.”

Romans 2:17-24

This ends today’s reading from God's holy word. Thanks be to God.

If there’s anything just as bad as being judgmental, it’s a Christian believer who is a hypocrite.

Maybe you’ve met one or two of these in your lifetime.

The Christian hypocrite will always spend more time telling you how you should live than they do self examining their own lives. They’re eager to shine a spotlight on your sin when they keep their own from being seen, hiding them in the dark recesses of their hearts and minds. In some twisted way, they think it’s okay to do the things they tell others not to do. This is why the word of the Lord is clear when it comes to the following exhortation:

“Don’t be a hypocrite!”

In Jesus’ day, you could find examples of hypocrisy within the Jewish religious leadership, mostly by the Pharisees and Sadducees. It was so prevalent that Jesus often railed against the way they legalistically went about their business, quick to criticize their Jewish followers for violating the Law while breaking it regularly themselves. In Matthew 23, we find Him speaking these words of admonishment:

Then Jesus said to the crowds and to His disciples, “The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses' seat, so do and observe whatever they tell you, but not the works they do. For they preach, but do not practice. They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people's shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to move them with their finger. They do all their deeds to be seen by others. For they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long, and they love the place of honor at feasts and the best seats in the synagogues and greetings in the marketplaces and being called rabbi by others. But you are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are all brothers. And call no man your father on earth, for you have one Father, who is in heaven. Neither be called instructors, for you have one instructor, the Christ. The greatest among you shall be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”

“But woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you shut the kingdom of heaven in people's faces. For you neither enter yourselves nor allow those who would enter to go in. Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you travel across sea and land to make a single proselyte, and when he becomes a proselyte, you make him twice as much a child of hell as yourselves.”

“Woe to you, blind guides, who say, ‘If anyone swears by the temple, it is nothing, but if anyone swears by the gold of the temple, he is bound by his oath.’ You blind fools! For which is greater, the gold or the temple that has made the gold sacred? And you say, ‘If anyone swears by the altar, it is nothing, but if anyone swears by the gift that is on the altar, he is bound by his oath.’ You blind men! For which is greater, the gift or the altar that makes the gift sacred? So whoever swears by the altar swears by it and by everything on it. And whoever swears by the temple swears by it and by him who dwells in it. And whoever swears by heaven swears by the throne of God and by Him who sits upon it.”

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe mint and dill and cumin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faithfulness. These you ought to have done, without neglecting the others. You blind guides, straining out a gnat and swallowing a camel!”

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you clean the outside of the cup and the plate, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence. You blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup and the plate, that the outside also may be clean.”

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs, which outwardly appear beautiful, but within are full of dead people's bones and all uncleanness. So you also outwardly appear righteous to others, but within you are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness.”

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you build the tombs of the prophets and decorate the monuments of the righteous, saying, ‘If we had lived in the days of our fathers, we would not have taken part with them in shedding the blood of the prophets.’ Thus you witness against yourselves that you are sons of those who murdered the prophets. Fill up, then, the measure of your fathers. You serpents, you brood of vipers, how are you to escape being sentenced to hell? Therefore I send you prophets and wise men and scribes, some of whom you will kill and crucify, and some you will flog in your synagogues and persecute from town to town, so that on you may come all the righteous blood shed on earth, from the blood of righteous Abel to the blood of Zechariah the son of Barachiah, whom you murdered between the sanctuary and the altar. Truly, I say to you, all these things will come upon this generation.” Matthew 23:1-36

I think Jesus makes the point very clear that any hypocritical behavior by those serving God is unacceptable. Paul underscores this point in our scripture passage today as he addresses the people in Rome. He writes addressing the Jews in Rome:

“Now you, if you call yourself a Jew; if you rely on the law and boast in God; if you know His will and approve of what is superior because you are instructed by the law; if you are convinced that you are a guide for the blind, a light for those who are in the dark, an instructor of the foolish, a teacher of little children, because you have in the law the embodiment of knowledge and truth—you, then, who teach others, do you not teach yourself? You who preach against stealing, do you steal? You who say that people should not commit adultery, do you commit adultery? You who abhor idols, do you rob temples? You who boast in the law, do you dishonor God by breaking the law?”

“As it is written: “God’s name is blasphemed among the Gentiles because of you.”  Romans 2:17-24

Here Paul follows Jesus’ blueprint, first pointing out how prideful Jews within that community rely on the Law, boast in God, and carry themselves as if they have some elevated status in the Lord’s sight. Empowered by the Law and the “embodiment of knowledge and truth” within it, these puffed up leaders in the Jewish religious society tout themselves as a “guide for the blind”, “a light for those who are in the dark”, “an instructor for the foolish”, and “a teacher of little children”. Note they see others as in need of spiritual wisdom and education but neglect to take the very scriptures they share to heart and this leads to them not practicing what they preach.

Some would preach against stealing and yet steal themselves, even going as far as robbing temples. .

Others would teach against adulterous behavior but freely engage in adultery when given the opportunity.  

In both of these instances and more, Jewish leaders would dishonor God by being hypocritical lawbreakers and we know Jesus sent wishes of woe to anyone who behaved this way for the judgment of God would be coming upon them.

I heard someone say a long time ago that you shouldn’t try and run someone else’s business when your business is failing. It was an analogy drenched in the matter of being hypocritical. Rather than simply tell others what they should do as Christians, maybe we should spend just as much time teaching by the way we behave, instructing by doing. For not only are others observing us to make sure we live life in the ways of the Lord, validating the things we say should be done, but God is watching as well and not only sees our outward actions but our most inward thoughts and motivations.

Friends, we should never feel it’s okay to be a hypocrite. For God despises this and Jesus teaches against it...and that should be all we need to know to steer away from the sinful behavior.

Amen.

In Christ,

Mark

PS: Feel free to leave a comment and please share this with anyone you feel might be blessed by it. Send any prayer requests to Gods4all@aol.com

[mockjesse]

100 important questions about jesse girard.

PART 1: THE BASICS

What is your full name?

jesse thomas girard

Where and when were you born?

i was born in wilmington, north carolina on october 1st, 1988.

Who are/were your parents? (Know their names, occupations, personalities, etc.)

hans girard ( my father) has owned his own pub since he first came to america in 1986. he’s hard working, emotionally distant, and very a man of few words. hans only speaks when he absolutely has to. frieda girard (my mother) managed finances at the pub and was a part owner of a gift shop downtown. she was also very emotionally distant, but she was much more outspoken than her husband. she passed away in september of 2017.

Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like?

N/A ( i’m an only child, thank god )

Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people.

now i reside in los angeles ( ocean park ), on my own in a 501 sq ft. studio apartment. it’s pretty cozy, i don’t think i’d ever upgrade, i like the space i have. my favorite spot is my balcony.

What is your occupation?

director/producer for the hit television show, countenance

Write a full physical description of yourself. You might want to consider factors such as: height, weight, race, hair and eye color, style of dress, and any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing marks.

i’m 6′3, 196 pounds, with brown eyes and dark brown hair. i live in oversized sweaters and jeans, but sometimes i’ll venture out in a pair of sweats and a t shirt, that’s quite rare. not as rare as formal attire. i don’t think i own a suit but i have two nice button down shirts and one pair of navy slacks. i have a scar that stretches from the bottom of my belly button to my left pelvic bone from a sledding accident when i was nine. i have two tattoos that are very hidden. one on my right hip ( a dara celtic knot for my maternal grandmother, who was irish ) and a vacancy sign across the right side of my chest ( a drunken decision )

To which social class do you belong?

upper class.

Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses?

shellfish allergy, and a few mental illnesses.

Are you right- or left-handed?

lefthanded

What does your voice sound like?

deep and often monotone. friends have observed that i sometimes use a german accent (much like my fathers) to refer to anything german or my heritage.

What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently?

“like”

“actually”

“literally”

“fuck you”

“don’t touch me”

“ok so”

“no”

“jesus fuck”

What do you have in your pockets?

loose change as always, my wallet, a pack of spearmint gum ( which i religiously chew ) and my keys.

Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics?

i bite my nails down to a nub. it makes everyone crazy. i nibble at them until they bleed. i crack my knuckles when i’m nervous. sometimes i click my tongue when i’m trying to avoid saying something I’ll regret. when someone is talking to me at work, i may walk away halfway through the conversation to do something else, not because i’m bored but because i have so many things to do and if i don’t do it now, i’ll forget.

PART 2: GROWING UP

How would you describe your childhood in general?

it wasn’t easy growing up in my household. you developed thick skin very early on, and you learned to rely on yourself. there weren’t many warm and fuzzy moments, but they provided all of my essential needs such as food, water, and a roof over my head.

What is your earliest memory?

probably my fourth birthday party at mcdonalds. i hated clowns. it was hell. i swear ronald had it out for me.

How much schooling have you had?

i got my bachelors at university of north carolina at wilmington and my masters at nyu

Did you enjoy school?

absolutely. it was an escape for me. home life could be very discouraging, i could show up on campus, take a test, and suddenly i felt better.

Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities?

i suppose my teachers and professors taught me most of what i know today.

While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them.

my role models ended up being directors i idolized growing up. my favorites are stanley kubrick and alfred hitchcock. i suppose you can call them role models. i want what they have, i want to direct thrillers and leave the audience on the edge of their seats. i think they each value suspense and storytelling, and i do too.

While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family?

i did not get on very well with my parents. i think my uncles and aunts were easier to get along with, because they have become much more collectivist through the years. they gave me most of my affection in my childhood. my grandparents gave solid advice so i valued them too.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

at one point i wanted to be a police officer but most little boys do. that dream vanished quick, i think directing came at age eleven.

As a child, what were your favorite activities?

i liked to watch movies. i hated tv shows. i would turn on hbo or showtime and just watch movie after movie while my parents worked. i liked to skateboard as a teenager, and i also took up photography as a hobby during middle school and high school.

As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display?

many people joked that i was a 40 year old man trapped in a 8 year old’s body. i was always very quiet, very observant. i never spoke unless spoken to, that was rare. i was very restless, i hated bullies. i would defend a kid i didn’t even know on the playground. i was suspended for many fights.

As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like? When and with whom was your first kiss?

not popular at all, i was too quiet. i had a few friends in middle school and one good one in high school. i did not open up to a lot of people, so i think a lot of people took that personal. my friends in middle school were always studious but goofy. we drifted apart when we went to different high schools. my best friend in high school was nick staffield, who was a lot like me. we were both quiet and distant but we had this mutual understanding that we didn’t need to know what the other person went home to. he had a pretty rough homelife too. so we would go to the cinema after class or stay behind after photography to look at our negatives. my first kiss with a girl was with annaleigh winslow, she was my first girlfriend. it was freshman year. she had to make all of the first moves because i was really unfamiliar with romance. my first kiss a guy was with nick, our senior year. it unfortunately was one of the reasons we lost touch.

Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity?

not a virgin, no. i lost my virginity with a girl in college, freshman year. we hooked up at a party, i think her name was rachel. we didn’t do formalities. it was nice, and she didn’t expect much from me after, so i appreciated her. however, it set unusually high standards for hookups at parties. my first time with a guy was different. it was senior year of college and we went into it with no strings attached. he was some big jock so i went with it, i figured he wasn’t into relationships. but he also wouldn’t stop texting me afterwards. his name was alex, i think he has a fiancee now.

If you are a supernatural being (i.e. mage, werewolf, vampire), tell the story of how you became what you are or first learned of your own abilities. If you are just a normal human, describe any influences in your past that led you to do the things you do today.

PART 3: PAST INFLUENCES

What do you consider the most important event of your life so far?

i think my first table reading of countenance was surreal. it made me feel like it was all coming together. i feel bad, i made very few notes to the actors, but i think i was immersed, completely.

Who has had the most influence on you?

i would say my professors from tisch and uncw. their input, their criticism, and their teachings have pushed me to be where i am today.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?

my greatest achievement was getting a second season of countenance. i honestly didn’t see it coming, but i’m a pessimist.

What is your greatest regret?

not saying goodbye to my mother before she passed.

What is the most evil thing you have ever done?

i don’t know if i’ve done anything evil but i did sleep with a married professor...

Do you have a criminal record of any kind?

just some minor tickets for drinking in college.

When was the time you were the most frightened?

i hate heights, so any time i have to go on a plane? i have a panic attack.

What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you?

one time i stretched during a presentation in grad school and my shirt button popped off and everyone started laughing and i wanted to die.

If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why?

i think i would open myself up more to people and relationships. it would have prepared me more.

What is your best memory?

i think when i got a call about a network picking up countenance. i was floored, i threw up.

What is your worst memory?

finding out my mother had passed away while i was filming.

PART 4: BELIEFS & OPINIONS

Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic?

pessimist.

What is your greatest fear?

i think complete failure scares me a lot... but loneliness keeps me up at night.

What are your religious views?

agnostic.

What are your political views?

liberal

What are your views on sex?

love it, but it comes with a lot of strings attached so i’ve been holding off.

Are you able to kill? Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable?

nah i couldn’t kill. just seriously injure.

In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do?

i think levels of disrespect are what lead us to be evil. i won’t dwell on it or expand because it’ll anger me.

Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love?

no but i do believe in love.

What do you believe makes a successful life?

i think setting out to do what you want and then accomplishing some or most of it is pretty damn successful.

How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings (i.e. do you hide your true self from others, and in what way)?

i’m never honest. i hate telling others what’s on my mind, or how i’m feeling. it feels too personal, and it feels invasive. i’m selective about who i share with.

Do you have any biases or prejudices?

i think we all do. i was conditioned to, but i’m unlearning all of them.

Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it?

i refuse to fucking sky dive because i don’t see the point of plummeting to your death and relying on a flimsy piece of cloth to save me ? no ? fuck that ? why do people like to fall out of the motherfucking sky?

Who or what, if anything, would you die for (or otherwise go to extremes for)?

uhh.. my friends. the few i have. if i form a close bond with someone, even if i don’t open up to them, i’d most likely take a bullet for them. i may be stoic but i’m a pile of mush inside.

PART 5: RELATIONSHIPS W/OTHERS

In general, how do you treat others (politely, rudely, by keeping them at a distance, etc.)? Does your treatment of them change depending on how well you know them, and if so, how?

i keep most people at a distance as a default. i don’t treat anyone poor unless they absolutely warrant it. i try to remain civil with everyone. with people i’m close with, my softer side is more common. i like to give them more of my personality to make up for my lack of affection or emotional availability.

Who is the most important person in your life, and why?

i’m not sure i have someone like that.

Who is the person you respect the most, and why?

*

Who are your friends? Do you have a best friend? Describe these people.

*

Do you have a spouse or significant other? If so, describe this person.

no spouse, no s/o. it’s complicated.

Have you ever been in love? If so, describe what happened.

no i haven’t but i have experienced spells of infatuation and it’s probably the worst thing i’ve ever dealt with in my life. who likes to feel all that shit at once? jesus, what a mess.

What do you look for in a potential lover?

i’d really like.. someone who understands me without any invasive questions. they won’t ask me for more than i can give. i’m so inexperienced in romance so my s/o would have to be patient with me. i guess beyond that? a nice smile.. yeah i’d like them to have a nice smile.

How close are you to your family?

not very. i do speak with my aunts sometimes, that’s about it.

Have you started your own family? If so, describe them. If not, do you want to? Why or why not?

no family, i’m not really sure if i’ll ever reach that point in my life. it sounds terrifying. i don’t think i’m qualified to take care of another human like that. it’s miraculous my fish have survived as long as they have.

Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help?

there’s some people in the crew and the cast that i might call if i absolutely had to. i really don’t like to rely on someone else, though.

Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why?

not really.. i mean once again i feel like one person might come to mind but it’s.. yeah that’s dumb, sorry. we barely know each other so i’m overreacting.

If you died or went missing, who would miss you?

my goldfish would probably miss me, they wouldn’t be able to eat, after all.

Who is the person you despise the most, and why?

i don’t despise anyone. i dislike a few people. i think they all know who they are.

Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict?

god i should avoid conflict but i don’t. i try to remain neutral unless i’m having a bad day, or if i feel like someone is being treated poorly. then the gloves come off.

Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations?

i hate doing it, but yeah. i think my job has taught me that the only way to succeed is to take a leadership role. it drains me, but the outcome is always rewarding.

Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not?

jesus fuck, no way. those convention panels shouldn’t exist. that’s my hell. i hate answering questions, especially personal ones. thank god, the business related questions are usually directed at me, while the personal ones are directed at my cast. otherwise i think i’d lose it.

Do you care what others think of you?

i think it depends on the person. i care what my family thinks. other than that.. not really.

PART 6: LIKES & DISLIKES

What is/are your favorite hobbies and pastimes?

i like photography and painting with watercolors. it helps with creativity so i never run dry. i get inspiration from the smallest thing, so it keeps me fresh.

What is your most treasured possession?

my projector or my laptop. i love technology so much, i wish i had something more meaningful but that’s what comes to mind.

What is your favorite color?

navy or olive.

What is your favorite food?

grilled cheese. i think i eat it more than i should.

What, if anything, do you like to read?

i think i just thumb through the classics, the most. steinbeck is my favorite author, sometimes i’ll read thoreau.

What is your idea of good entertainment (consider music, movies, art, etc.)?

a movie with beautiful cinematography, a song with a symphony or large instrumental accompany, or a mini series.

Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If so, why? Do you want to quit?

i think if you drew blood from me, half of it would actually be red wine. i love red wine. i drink a glass or two every night. i used to smoke cigarettes... i’ll smoke one after sex because i’m a walking cliche. i hate drugs for the most part. they never give me the thrill people claim to have when they take them. to me it’s a waste of time when you could have a better night with a bottle of cabernet.

How do you spend a typical Saturday night?

usually i’ll put a movie on my projector and i’ll pretend to start a book, but then i’ll just watch a tv show or something.

What makes you laugh?

i actually love certain vines. cute animal vines have a place in my stony heart.

What, if anything, shocks or offends you?

rain ponchos are fucking atrocious.

What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself?

i usually get up and paint or i’ll sit outside on my balcony and people watch with a cup of coffee. usually everyone’s drunk, so what more could you ask for?

How do you deal with stress?

i stress clean. or i stew about it until i can nap.

Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan?

planning is sexy. a top ten turn on for me.

What are your pet peeves?

well there’s a special place in hell for anyone who doesn’t use a fucking turn signal when switching lanes.

PART 7: SELF IMAGES & OTHER

Describe the routine of a normal day for you. How do you feel when this routine is disrupted?

usually i get up, grab a cup of coffee and a granola bar and head to work. if i wake up late and forget the granola bar or coffee, my coworkers are in trouble.

What is your greatest strength as a person?

i think my determination and organization. i believe that’s how i got my own show at a young age like this

What is your greatest weakness?

my inability to relate to people or my emotional capacity. it’s just low and i think i really miss out on a lot because of it.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

i think i’d be more open with my friends. tell them more about myself.

Are you generally introverted or extroverted?

introverted.

Are you generally organized or messy?

organized.

Name three things you consider yourself to be very good at, and three things you consider yourself to be very bad at.

three things i’m good at: my job, anything requiring creativity, & organization

three things i’m bad at: anything with hand eye coordination, staying in my lane, & responsibility.

Do you like yourself?

this is a loaded question. i like traits about myself. overall there’s a lot i’d change.

What are your reasons for being an adventurer (or doing the strange and heroic things that RPG characters do)? Are your real reasons for doing this different than the ones you tell people in public? (If so, detail both sets of reasons…

What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime?

i would love one oscar, at least. i feel like i could easily retire with one (1) oscar.

Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

hopefully still at countenance, maybe wrapping it up and venturing into movies.

If you could choose, how would you want to die?

in my sleep. please @ god or something.

If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, name three things you would do in the time you had left.

travel is always on my bucket list but that’s hard in 24 hours. i think i’d make a lot of phone calls and say stuff to people that i couldn’t say right now. i would want everyone to know exactly how i feel about them. i’d probably eat a whole bowl of cookie dough because you gotta go out in a blaze of glory. and then maybe i’d have sex one last time because it’s been awhile...

What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death?

hopefully, my accomplishments on screen. i know i can also be difficult on set... but i’d like my cast and crew to think of me in a positive light... maybe have an impact on them too.

What three words best describe your personality?

witty, tempestuous, & protective.

What three words would others probably use to describe you?

stoic, tempestuous, & enigmatic.

If you could, what advice would you, the player, give to your character? (You might even want to speak as if he or she were sitting right here in front of you, and use proper tone so he or she might heed your advice…)

ooc; honestly jesse ?! if you spent half your time telling others how you really felt, you’d solve 99.9% of your problems. it’s so hard to open up, but you’re missing out on life by holding everyone at an arms length, man !! please just @ people next time ? jesus christ dude.

[ascriptofasoul]

“but still You dine with me”

Hi, welcome back.

I guess I’ll begin by saying I don’t really know where to begin. I haven’t known what to write about or where to start because each time I’ve tried writing (at least a dozen times now), words fail me.

Additionally and admittedly so, I have been in a spiritual rut for the past few weeks. If I’m being completely honest and vulnerable (despite being subject to great judgement), I haven’t been spending time with Jesus. Though I thought I knew of its importance, I haven’t had the desire to read the Word. I haven’t thoughtfully and intentionally talked to God through prayer, and I haven’t taken the time to just bask in His presence and even listen to worship.

I realized that perhaps the reason it’s also been so difficult to write and make sense of my thoughts, is because I haven’t been feeling like myself. I wish I could say it was because I was distracted or busy. However, I’ve ackowledged that it was because I wasn’t ready to confront the heart-work that came along with coming to terms that I have been ignoring Jesus.

Through quarantine, however, God was showing me once again how He was going to use this time to glorify who He is in my life.

With all of this in mind, late Sunday night, I spent some time going through videos, sermons, and testimonies. Though there were things I knew I needed to hear, it was as if a part of me wasn’t ready to listen. I then realized the grip of the enemy and his tricks. I was being persuaded to “watch it tomorrow” and “get some sleep”. However, I now see it was only through Christ that I was able to fight past my flesh and the enemy’s lies, in order to hear what God wanted to pour into my heart during this time.

As I continued listening and watching, eventually I was confronted with the question, “Is God truly the first thing in your life?”. This wrecked me, because I wanted to say yes so badly. I wanted to be the faithful Christian who never wavered, I wanted to proudly say that I seeked God’s truth relentlessly, and I wanted to say that I never put anyone or anything above Him... but I knew that just wasn’t the case. And if I can be honest with you again, since coming to know Christ almost three years ago now, I can say that Jesus has always been a big part of my life, but He hasn’t always been the first thing in my life.

Realizing that was as if everything clicked into place. I never understood why I was unable to wholeheartedly dive in with Jesus. I never understood why it seemed like God had favored others while I was struggling. I never understood why I was never able to get past my anxiety when sharing about Jesus. You can see in these statements alone, however, the obvious answer to all of these was because I put myself first—my feelings and my tainted preceptions of God’s love for me. I’ve never allowed Him to fully have the first place in my heart. When it comes to Jesus, I recognize that I have struggled and failed to grasp the fullness of who He is, what He has done for me on The Cross, and what a privilege it is to be loved by Him.

As I’m learning about my misplaced priorites and how I have valued my relationsip with Jesus thus far, I decided to pray. I didn’t really know what to pray for since it had been so long since I mindfully spoke to Jesus. However, in this imperfect, insufficeint, and weepy prayer in the wee hours, I asked God that if He was there and if He was listening, I was ready to let go. I wanted Him to be the first in my life, even if that meant He needed to take away everything else that was taking me away from Him. My worries about bills and school, my idols and relationships—I was finally willing to forsake them all for Jesus.

But, that’s the thing I had forgotten about the God we serve while in this rut and in my wandering... that if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us. Perhaps that is why we often find ourselves at dead ends (James 4:3) and must turn to Jesus because He is The Way. Moreover, if there is anything I’ve learned about God in the years since I’ve come to know Him, it is that He is a God of deliverence. When we ask God to show more of Himself, we can’t even begin to fathom how deep His love and grace for us really is... but that was what He was going to show me.

Up until this night in my life, most of my prayers have been about the things of this world. As He was bringing me to the end of myself, I needed to reset my heart and set my mind on the things above instead.

I have always asked God to give me faith to trust Him before, but now it was time for me to give Him my complete trust. I realized He has loved me so graciosuly and so unconditionally all along—even in my sin, doubt, and disobedience... but what would I discover about Him if I was obedient?

He has been asking me to surrender myself to Him for so long. And, despite not wanting to relinquish the need for control over my life, He has never walked out on me. And it’s funny... because this life I’m clinging so tightly to, isn’t even mine. He paid the ultimate price on that Cross—the one that I could not. And in return? All He still wanted was me...the sinner, the flawed, the unworthy, and the one who always lost her way.

“How precious did that grace appear the first hour I believed”

I asked God to help me understand the weight of what Jesus did on The Cross for me. God’s faithfulness didn’t relent, and my prayer to know more of Him was answered through music. I trust that because God knows me fully, He knows what music means to me, despite being someone who sings flat and is convinced she’s tone deaf. Worship music and music itself is often what I rely on when in need of consolation, joy, and even rest. However, during this spiritual rut, the worship songs I often turned to (though still so special and meaningful to me), couldn’t pierce through and truly convict my heart. But this was no feat for the Lord. He was going to have His way in my life and break apart everything I built, in order to rebuild His place in my life. This was simply just the beginning.

It happened the very next morning, when I stumbled across a song called, “Underdressed” by Gable Price and Friends. I don’t have to words to convey how this song made me feel, and embarrassingly, only tears could explain how it spoke directly to my heart the moment I heard it. This song led me to more of their music. The words in each of their songs I came across were so honest and real.

It made me feel small like a child—marveling at the all-encompassing love of God... being left in awe and at a loss as I try to somehow comprehend how we get to know Him, and a love like His for the rest of our lives.

These songs confronted the painful truth that we are not just imperfect people, but that we are sinners. And though we fall short of the glory of God time and time again, Jesus still loves us so, so, so much. It was astounding to see just even this small glimpse of God’s tireless love, but also heartbreaking to know how I could be the one so incapable of loving God at times. Whether it was choosing not to take five minutes of my day to just pray and give Him thanks, or to open my bible and read His Word, which is actually for my good. Nevertheless, He is not phased, His affection for us doesn’t wither away and He is still so pursuant of us and our hearts. I only hope I can continue to pursue His in the same way.

The Lord is not just walking with me, but He is leading me as I find my way out of this standstill that I’ve been in. For that reason, I can’t say I know what’s next because radically, fearlessly, and fully putting Jesus first in my life is something I have never truly done before. It is something I’m learning to do now, and as I’m sharing this with you, I am still in the midst of untangling it all. Even so, my hope is to continue to share who He is with you every step of the way in order to to glorify Him, and to love Him even more.

I pray that you continue to take heart, and as you come to encounter more of Jesus, may you remain hopeful in His love for you and trust that what you experience is part of an exceeding fullness you will come to know, but cannot yet even imagine.

From Jesus to the religious leaders of Jerusalem:

John‬ ‭10: 10-11‬

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full. I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down His life for the sheep.”

[truecantaloupelove-blog]

The Underlying Christian Symbolism in Undertale: The Seven Deadly Soul Modes

Welcome to a theory series where I explore the latent religious symbolism in the 2015 video game Undertale. Now, I quick disclaimer before we begin: I don’t think that Undertale is at all intended to be a primarily or even secondarily religious game; like all video games, it was designed first to entertain. That being said, the more I look into the deeper mysteries and unanswered questioned of Undertale, the more I can’t help but shake the idea that the game content is drawing much more from religious elements than most people would expect. For Exhibit A: The 7 Soul Modes.

Throughout the game, the “Soul” is used to represent the avatar of the player whenever they enter battles. They are also used, as Flowey says, to symbolize the “culmination of a person’s very being”, both yours and the characters around you. Souls and the differences between human and monster souls play a pivotal role in the lore of Undertale. Human souls are represented as upright colored hearts while monster souls are inverted white hearts. The player soul is red, but in the course of the game we encounter 6 other human souls colored light blue, dark blue, green, orange, yellow, and purple. These colors are said to correspond with the seven human children who fell into the Underground before us (the first human child also possessed a red soul, similar to ours). Also, by digging into the gameplay a bit we find that the six colors correspond to six virtues: light blue for patience, dark blue for integrity, green for kindness, orange for bravery, yellow for justice and purple for perseverance. It’s unknown exactly what the red soul represents, though it’s theorized to be a combination of all the others, the embodiment of love, or determination.

So far, all of this is well known among the fandom. But what if I told you that the seven souls not only correspond to humans and virtues, but to monsters and the seven deadly sins?

The first part of this may not be a surprise; it’s pretty obvious that some soul are associated with the monsters who will activate them on you during battle. Interestingly, every major boss in the game WHO’S NOT A DREEMURR (Toriel, Asgore, and Asriel) uses at least one soul mode on you. Papyrus will turn your soul dark blue during a fight, Undyne green, during Mettaton’s fight you’ll be turned yellow, and purple during Muffet’s. Light blue and orange are not encountered as direct soul modes, but they are seen in bullet attacks; a light bullet requires you to remain motionless to avoid harm while orange requires you to do the exact opposite and run through it to avoid injury. Though these attacks are not directly linked to any particular monsters, for the purpose of my theory I believe light blue is linked to Sans while orange is linked to Alphys, as both of these characters are the ones who respectively explain their attacks. 

So now we have six soul colors coded to six monsters: dark blue for Papyrus, light blue for Sans, Green for Undyne, Orange for Alpyhs, Yellow for Mettaton, and Purple for Muffet. Here’s where it starts to get interesting.

Each of these characters exhibit one of the Seven Deadly Sins. For those of you who need a refresher theological course, the Seven Deadly Sins are Sloth, Greed, Envy, Wrath, Lust, Gluttony, and Pride. While all of these behaviors are at various points condemned in the Bible (Proverbs 6:9, 21:26, 27:4, 22:24,6:25, and 23:21, for those of you who really want to look it up) lumping them together as a group and elevating them to “The” Seven Deadly Sins is a product of the Catholic church; they are not distinguished from other sins in the Bible. Regardless, each character shows one of these traits.

We’ll start with the most obvious one: Undyne struggles with Wrath. I don’t really have to argue this one since her first, second, third, and fourth encounter with the player character involve repeatedly attempting to pincushion them with spears, regardless of whether or not the player has harmed anyone. Even after making friends with Undyne, she still shows many unsettling violent tendencies.

The next most obvious Sin correlation is Muffet, who clearly embodies Greed. Anyone who would try to charge you 9999 gold for a croissant roll clearly has an unhealthy love of money that goes beyond trying to raise cash for a good cause.

Papyrus is a bit tricky, because many would say that his character’s fatal flaw is Pride. He certainly does act conceited and narcissistic when you first get to know him, and his overly-inflated ego never quite goes away. However, the longer the character gets to know Papyrus, the less it seems that Pride is really his defining trait, and in any case, there’s another person on this list that deserves it more. Papyrus really seems to struggle with Envy more than pride; all of his bravado and self-touting big talk is really the result of longing to be more popular and prestigious. Papyrus envies Undyne’s position as captain of the Royal Guard, he envies the popularity of others, the massive amounts of friends, prestige, fame, and “showers of kisses” that he imagines his idols to have at their disposal. He envies the life of a celebrity and wants it for himself. For this reason I would say that Papyrus most strongly exhibits the sin of Envy.

Going next to the lovable skeleton’s brother, we find Sans, who’s Deadly Sin has to be gluttony. Now, many would argue that Sans should be associated with Sloth, since his character is repeatedly described as lazy and slacking off by Papyrus. Sans certainly makes an effort to come off as a lackadaisical goofball, with his lame puns and illegal hot dog stands, but a closer look reveals that this lazy joker routine is a ruse, at least in part, designed to throw unsuspecting players off guard should they wander down the wrong path. When we finally do get the chance to fight Sans, we find that quite the opposite from being lazy he’s easily the hardest fighting and most skilled opponent we ever face. More than that, we constantly get clues in the game that Sans is FAR more active than he seems: he can be seen constantly following us and keeping tabs on our location, he’s running multiple oddball jobs all while maintaining a position in the Royal Guard, taking care of brother Papyrus, and apparently, if the hidden room behind his house is to be trusted, doing scientific research on the side. Sans will even flat out admit to us that his brother is dead wrong about him being lazy, should we choose to insult Papyrus during the time we hang out with Sans at Grillby’s. Though he never bothers to correct his brother, it seems obvious that behind the scenes, this skeleton is working his tailbone off (Sans pun; I apologize)

On the other hand, there’s nothing feigned about San’s love of food. While many other characters in the game (Toriel, Undyne, Muffet, Mettaton, ) do show interest in cooking and food, Sans is repeatedly asking us to come out to eat with him. Half of his side jobs and side scams involve peddling food to people. He chugs an entire bottle of ketchup right in front of us at Grillby’s and stacks over twenty hot dogs on our head when we run out of room in our pockets. If that isn’t gluttony, I don’t know what is.

Sans may not deserve the label of Sloth, but Alphys does. Obviously, there’s her otaku anime binge-watching habits to out her into this category, but the issue of Sloth seems to go much deeper with her character: it’s less about pure laziness and more about trying to avoid responsibility. Certainly we see signs that Alphys can and does work incredibly hard at times; Mettaton’s body and the True Lab are proof of that. However, the True Lab journal entries reveal another side of Alphys: her refusal to own up to her mistakes. Alphys makes a habit of running from her problems instead of facing them; hiding from the angry letters of the amalgamates families, Asgore’s phone calls, and really anything that makes her feel bad. She lies to avoid others thinking poorly of her rather than doing the work to fix the problems she created. For that reason, this dinosaur scientist gets the label of Sloth.

It should come as no surprise that Mettaton is guilty of the deadliest sin, Pride. Unlike Papyrus, his massive ego DOES seem to be his defining trait; he has the flamboyance and charisma (sort of) to pull that off into appearing a successful television icon, but throughout the entire time we know him he really does seem to think that everything is all about him, and he’s more than a little willing to hurt others (Napstablook, Alphys, the player) to get the and glory he deserves. He may be humorous to watch, but arrogance really is a fatal flaw for Mettaton.

So this leaves us with one sin left: Lust. At first, I couldn’t find anyone who fit this trait; Undertale is more or less designed to be a kid friendly game, none of the characters are openly lewd or provocative. None of them seem to be particularly sex-driven either; aside from possibly Dogamy and Dogaressa, both of whom seem far too minor to fill this role. I tried squeezing random awkward choices to fill the category of “lust” within the game: Aaron, Tsundereplane, Moldsmal, even Toriel, but none of them came even close to fitting the pattern. It seemed my theory had finally fallen apart on this last point. And then I realized that the answer had been staring me right in the face the whole time.

In fact, there IS one character in Undertale who seems to be completely hormone driven, flirting with literally anything that dares to stumble across their path. And wouldn’t you know it; it’s the character associated with the final soul mode. You know who I’m talking about: it’s Frisk, the human child and the player character. 

There have already been plenty of jokes about how excessively Frisk likes to flirt with things, (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6HtHIYKJXh0) but the more I think about it, the more I have to agree with Toriel, something is not quite right with this kid. Frisk apparently has no compunctions flirting with a goat, a skeleton, a piece of sentient mold, a fish lady, a dinosaur, a volcano, an airplane, a robot, and a clinically depressed ghost. Maybe it’s all played off in a cutesy childish way, but that is some Jack Harkniss level of over the top flirtation. Yes, it may be a family friendly way to depict lust, but it’s lust nonetheless.

So their you have it. The Seven Soul modes in Undertale correspond not only to their respective virtues but also to their associated Sins; Green to Wrath, Purple to Greed, Light Blue to Gluttony, Dark Blue to Envy, Orange to Sloth, Yellow to Pride, and Red to Lust. This correlation seems to be at least partially intentional on the part of Toby Fox; it always bothered me how Muffet was the only mini-boss to get her own exclusive soul mode, but it makes sense if these there to fill out the number. It also helps explain why none of the Dreemurr family members have easy to pin down obvious flaw, unlike the other main characters; they’re the only bosses not to use soul modes, and each of them seems to have a more complex and deeply woven role into the history of monsters than the other characters. In fact, two of these characters in particular bear striking resemblances to two very prominent Biblical figures; but that’s the subject for another post. See you next time!

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON MAYDAY’S MAIN VOCAL BAEK JIWOO...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A  CURRENT AGE: 24 DEBUT AGE: 23 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 17 COMPANY: MSG SECONDARY SKILL: N/A

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): wooji, 애지 (”aeji” - a play on the word “애기” in combination with her name 지우 and a nod towards jiwoo’s youthful affect - also interchangeably used in reference to her aegyo (애교)), 백퍼센트귀여운 / baek percent gwiyeo-un/100% cute (reference to her cuteness as well as her family name, often simply shortened to baek percent / ‘백퍼센트‘ ), 보조개 / bojogae (dimples uwu) INSPIRATION: her biggest inspiration to become an idol was the first time she ever watched an idol comeback show - it was olympus’s “be mine” that peaked her interest. SPECIAL TALENTS:

ariana grande vocal impression

aegyo 3-set (x)

dad jokes / 아재개그

NOTABLE FACTS:

the only female child in her family for two generations

her favorite movie genre is romantic comedy and she wants to record an OST for one someday.

her favorite animal is the deer because fans have often compared her to bambi, she’s started carrying a small stuffed one she received at a fansign around.

she was an absolute teacher’s pet throughout school and was even elected class president in grade 10.

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

short-term, she wants to regain her footing after the shocking change of pace she’s experienced recently and focus on building her resume to grab attention for both herself and her group, so they can, hopefully, get their first win during their next comeback.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

she’s looking to move more fully into acting and follow in the footsteps of exemplars like bae suzy who were able to create a name for themselves through not only their efforts on stage but on the screen as well.

IDOL IMAGE

jiwoo is compliant to a fault as a result of her strict religious upbringing under a firm-handed mother with a high standard of morality, a bit of a pushover, entirely too trusting of the people around her, she thinks the world of even those who don’t deserve it. despite this inherent timidity towards decisiveness against authority, she’s a bright and bubbly girl who just wants to make the world smile with her voice, her personality. she’s playful and naive, exudes a natural innocence that comes with her pointed lack of experience. it’s charming, the way it impacts her sense of humor, her lighthearted sass; funny, how jokes fly right over her head. she’s cute. there’s nothing forced about it and it’s that that MSG is counting on: her natural aegyo, genuine, the feeling of fondness and protectiveness that this aspect of her elicits.

she’s simple in that she’s generally easy to get along with, to laugh with, to be around. she’s got that trademark adorable easy-to-approach air about her but shines in the spotlight.

off stage, she’s painted as the girl-next-door, the childhood best friend, the little sister you’d sell your kidney for in a pinch. jiwoo’s pretty, radiant in the way you remember your first ever crush being when you were in school. she’s a social butterfly. her purity is captivating, youthful, and it has the potential to pull in a broad range of audiences if they play their cards right - people who want to preserve it, those on the other end of the spectrum who want to tear it back just to see what’s underneath, and those who resonate. that’s the fun in acting, being able to take their doll and see her dressed up the way they want to see her.

it’d be a shame if they broke her.

“but,” she wants to say. “i’m a singer.”

she sings her ass off on stage, she’s a main vocal - wants them to acknowledge that, that she’s talented and good and has worked hard to reach this point, to be a singer. she thinks about the fact that she left home for this, cut ties with her mother for this. she’s gotten so much better at dancing, her performances get better every time.

she wants to remind them that she’s got a group, that they’re good, too, that there’s more to her than her image, that they make good music. “please love mayday a lot!” she makes sure to add during her solo schedules.

“so cute!” they say. she’s the apple heart girl, cute enough to slap her face on their brand, cute enough to cast. it’s shallow, the way they love her, the way they want her.

it doesn’t feel as good.

IDOL HISTORY

TW BRIEF PHYSICAL/VERBAL ABUSE

act i, scene i, the sun shines through the clouds

jiwoo comes out singing. not literally, of course, but that’s the way her mother’s always made it seem, like this was the only thing she could ever picture for her little girl - the same bright little girl who’d sit in her lap during church and sing at the top of her lungs to every hymn, knew the words to every bit of gospel, and jumped at the opportunity to join the youth choir when she was finally old enough to hold a microphone. she’s a tiny, frail little thing, smaller than the other kids, and it pains her mother to watch jiwoo so far away, to watch her shine without her light. it’s a beautiful sight, though, the way she shines, the way she makes her mother feel like she was born to do it. she smiles so hard on stage, she’s scared her little face will split in two.

jiwoo’s mother learns early on that her zeal is conditional, that she shines so brightly but that she’s scared of her own shadow. she’s got stage fright something awful - conditional, because she’s fine when she can see her mother in the crowd of judging faces, but she throws up all over her brand new dress the day she has to sing a solo in front of her fourth grade class.

she’s relieved, she thinks, that it’s not easy for her to do it alone.

she’s her only child, her little jiwoo, the product of a short-lived relationship but a miracle, nonetheless. she’s all she’s got. she doesn’t know if she could ever stomach having to let her go. jiwoo cries.

“another opportunity will come, baby,” she tells her when she brushes her hair before bed that same evening, holds her close and hums. “you were meant to shine.”

it gets better when she starts participating in neighborhood plays as an attempt to branch out and get over her fear. she’s good.

her mother makes sure it doesn’t get to her head.

scene ii, they part.

the curtains rise to the rolling sound of drums and there she stands. there’s a television stage left and on the screen, there’s colors. they’re bright enough to blind her but still, she stares. there’s an awe in her expression, like she’s seeing for the very first time - hearing, too, the sound of music in another form. it’s different, this music, to the trot songs and olden spirituals her mama plays around the house.

it’s the first time ever she’s gone to a sleepover. she’s embarrassed that she doesn’t know the song, that the other girls do. her idea of fun on a friday night up until now has been watching historical dramas with her mom on the couch with a bowl of lightly salted popcorn between them, but, now, watching olympus’s comeback stage, she thinks she’s in love. her friends tell her to pick a favorite. she can’t decide, but she goes home the next morning and downloads ‘be mine’, listens to it when she gets ready for bed, so she’ll know the words, too.

it’s not a secret but her mother finds out when she catches her belting the song into her hairbrush after dinner, a printed out picture of the boys taped above her bed. (she’s decided she likes the main vocal’s part best.)

“who’re you listening to?” she asks, a hand against the doorframe.

“idols,” jiwoo replies, a new word added to her vocabulary. “don’t they sound cool?”

“don’t forget to pray.” her mother says.

interlude

the first and only time her mother hits her is when she comes out of her room with lip gloss on, some daiso mascara on her lashes and a cute shirt she’d borrowed from one of her friends. there’s nothing inappropriate about the look, just shorts and a shirt, stomach and thighs hidden like she’s been taught to keep them. she’s thirteen and learning about makeup and self-expression from the now regular sleepovers she has with her school friends every weekend. they meet up and sing together, plan on putting together a cover performance for the back to school showcase after being inspired by heaven’s debut. her walls are plastered with idol posters now, bought with the money she picks up from babysitting the toddler who lives in the flat next door when his parents are out. she’s growing up, discovering herself, doesn’t see a thing wrong with it until her mother slaps her square across the face.

it stings something fierce, burns with a kind of betrayal she’s never felt before - ever. it’s the first time she feels truly afraid of her mother. it hurts more when she speaks, tells her to change because she looks like a trollop.

jiwoo changes. something changes with her. she prays.

2013.

her friend goes to an audition for msg. “come along,” she says, “it’ll be fun.” she says, but it feels like a set up somehow. it’s incredibly cliche, the way she doesn’t intend to audition, doesn’t even think about it, but winds up in front a panel of judges before she even realizes she’s there. she needs to be home by six. caught off guard, she sings olympus’s be mine with absolutely no expectations, grooves a bit to some generic pop music as a display of her grasp on rhythm, and makes a point to apologize to them for being unprepared. she squirms, smiles sheepishly and tries not seem as nervous as she is.

it’s cute. they like her. she doesn’t know how she’s going to tell her mom.

act ii,scene i hell freezes over

she tells her over dinner.

her mother’s mad, the way jiwoo knew she’d be. she tells her that when she thought of her becoming a singer, she’d always pictured someone classy and regaled like so hyang. this isn’t what she wants and she makes sure that jiwoo knows it when she signs the paperwork. things get cold after that, like it’s her mom’s attempt to ice her out, guilt her into calling it quits so she can pay the hefty fee for a month or two and they can go back to spending every night together, quiet and safe and holy.

it hurts her feelings but she pushes through, spends her time as a trainee doing the best she can, stays away from home as long as possible when the opportunities arise, but always comes back with her tail between her legs on the rare occasion she gets truly, properly scolded. she’s compliant when she can be, when it doesn’t speak against her soul.

it gets colder.

things reach a head when she’s old enough to be out on her own and her mother kicks her out. she doesn’t look at her when she does it, doesn’t say a word, but the way her things are neatly packed and waiting by the door when she gets home from training speak volumes. the bible on top of her suitcase while her mother sits in her usual spot in front of the television feels passive aggressive, hurts her feelings, but she leaves. she stays the night at one of her trainee friend’s apartments and never goes back.

her mother cries, feels like a failure, feels terribly alone. she doesn’t call.

it’s the first time jiwoo ever truly goes against the grain. hell freezes.

it’s too cold.

scene ii, let me entertain you

debut doesn’t feel the way she thought it would. it’s very clinical, the whole process.

she expects them to be received with open arms by the public but the scores during music shows speak volumes, their song does okay but it’s not enough. it’s a hum, barely even a clap of thunder, just a rumble. she’s happy anyway, like she always is, glad she gets to sing, but she holds out hope for a breakthrough.

and, well.

she doesn’t do it on purpose, the whole aegyo thing, it just happens during a fansign one day. she’s interacting with the fans that came, teasing them for their reminders for her to eat well when she goes to mime eating an apple to satiate them. it turns into a heart and she’s terribly delighted, does it again and tells them, tone cute and lovely, that their love keeps her full. it’s a few days spent without her giving it any thought, but one morning, she sees her face on pann and wonders what the fuss is about. weeks pass and she’s genuinely surprised to see other idols do it during interviews, finds herself searching for compilations on youtube and twitter and giggling in delight when she should be sleeping. it feels surreal but her company seems pleased.

she doesn’t realize what it really means until they start to really push her, booking her appearances on commercials, variety shows here and there to keep the public’s eyes on her - the mc’s always bring it up, the apple thing. they coo over her, laugh at her jokes, seem utterly charmed by her and it’s - different. it’s never about her singing. the company tells her she’s being helpful.

it gets even different-er when months down the line, she’s offered a role in a webdrama.

they accept it without really even asking her but it’s fine, she guesses. she likes acting well enough, had enjoyed it when she worked with 1nferno for their music video, in her childhood. she doesn’t question their motives, though. it’s okay.

she’ll do what they want her to do. if it’ll help.