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foreverwcnter · 5 years ago

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home is where the heart is

pairing — tom holland x reader

warnings — some abuse (one scene), slight angst, fluff.

summary — “when i look at you, i can feel it. i look at you and i’m home” y/n and tom were very close in their teenage years and in love, but when he was cast as spider-man, they split and moved on. years later they meet again.

author’s note — this is for @fairytaleparker and @neverlandparker ‘s disney writing challenge! i love you both so much and i hope you enjoy this so much! this is inspired by the great gatsby.

Years ago, there were two lovers. At fifteen, they went on their first date, holding hands gently, swinging their arms and laughing. There were feeling shared between small glances and small blushes. The first kiss was tense and awkward, but the second was comfortable and sweet. It was like a perfect fairytale, but one without the trials and triumphs. There were no slaying dragons, but they managed to slay any issues coming their way. The relationship was soft, sweet and irreplaceable.

These sweethearts believed they would live a long life together, but of course, the inevitable happened and an issue came between them. They split paths, went their own ways and left history behind them. Years passed and all feelings had been left behind... right?

You were spending your life as a writer while getting an English degree. Life couldn’t be better for you. You had a new boyfriend, and you were living your best life. Everything seemed perfect and was turning out perfectly. You and your boyfriend Marc were on a date going to your favorite cafe in London.

As you stepped in, you gripped Marc’s hand, smiling to yourself as the aroma of the coffee, tea, and other delicacies flooded the air. You were quick to get in line to order your drinks, still holding hands and standing close to each other.

“I’ll order for us, your usual right?” Marc smiled.

“Yep! I’ll grab us a table.”

You headed off to the corner booth, taking your seat and your phone out of your pocket, rereading an email your professor sent to you about your most recent essay before you heard a voice you hadn’t heard in a million years.

“Y/n, hey.”

You looked up, setting your phone down only to meet the eyes of your former lover. Tom. Tom stood there in all his glory, his normal stupid smile on his face. it was the same smile and pair of eyes you fell in love with so long ago. You wanted to tear your eyes away from his, but something prevented you. It was like you dove right back into the past, the one where you loved Tom until he moved away so suddenly. You were glad you didn’t hold him back though because he accomplished so much without you there. A tap on your shoulder broke you from your trance, turning to look over at Marc.

“Who is this?” Marc asked, eying Tom.

“Oh,” you paused, standing up by your chair. “Marc, this is Tom my ex-boyfriend and Tom this is Marc, my boyfriend.”

A flash of hurt and heartbreak was seen in Tom’s hazel brown eyes. He should have expected it. You both had been told to move on after you break up and that's what you did. Tom didn’t though. He’s turned girls down and said he only went on a date with said girls because they reminded him of you and your beautiful face. Tom was still holding onto your hand in his head, but you started holding someone else’s.

“Good to meet you, Marc,” Tom smiled, shaking your boyfriend’s hand politely. “I see you’re treating her very well, you guys look great together. “ Tom prevented his voice from cracking during those sentences.

“Thanks, we’ve been very happy this past year and we just got a flat together,” Marc smiled. “Join us for coffee will you?”

Tom nodded and you and Marc sat across from him in the booth. The conversation was slightly awkward and tense, so you all worked around it instead of making it more comfortable. That was until Marc got a call from his office. “Be right there,” he hung up, kissing your cheek. “I’ve got to go, there were some issues at the office.”

“Bye, love.”

You sighed, watching him walk off and then looking back to Tom.

“I didn’t expect you to move on, to be honest,” Tom sighed, looking down shamefully. “I never did after all. “

“Tom, I didn’t want to hold you back from such an amazing opportunity. You know there would have been issues if we stayed together all that time. I didn’t want to face those issues at the time,” you explained, looking to Tom with a sad expression. “I didn’t want to stay so attached to a past lover, so I started going out with a few guys, none of them seemed to fit my expectations until I met Marc.”

Tom took a sip of his tea, frowning to himself. He knew it was stupid to think you still loved him the way you used to. He wasn’t going to say anything about it though.

“Can we still be friends, Tom? I missed you and I want to spend time with you still.”

Tom nodded, taking a deep breath to concentrate. “Let me walk you home.”

After finishing your drinks, you walked side by side to the direction of your apartment. You were talking about your jobs and how you’ve made your successes.

“I actually wrote a novel which is published.” You smiled to yourself. Tom gave a look of amazement, his jaw dropping only slightly.

“Y/n, that’s amazing. I’ll have to read it soon.”

“Well, I’ll have to watch your superhero movies soon, I haven’t been able to see them yet because of how busy me and Marc have been.”

Tom nodded before a light bulb appeared over his head and he had an amazing idea. “How about tomorrow night I bring the movies over and we could have a marathon?” He pleaded in his head for you to say yes. He was trying to find excuses to spend more time with you.”

“Of course, would you want to have more coffee tomorrow beforehand? I don’t have work tomorrow so my whole day is free.” They stopped outside the flat building and Tom eagerly nodded.

After parting ways, you headed inside, changing into more comfortable clothes as you started to make dinner for that night. When Marc arrived home, you quickly told him you’d be going to the cafe again with Tom just to catch up and that Tom would be coming over as well afterward. It was clear Marc seemed a bit tense over the situation.

“Don’t you think it is a little weird for you to be hanging out with your ex?“ Marc asked, raising an eyebrow at you. “I mean, everyone usually hates their ex after dating. I mean I do. The girl was a psycho.”

“Marc, she wasn’t a psycho, you were expecting too much from her while she was trying to help her family,” you explained. “I’m not going to go back to Tom because I love you. My feelings for him are long gone.”

Right?

The next day, you and Tom enjoyed yourselves at the cafe, chatting and talking about your accomplishments and other dreams. It was a fun and light conversation filled with old inside jokes and stories. Every now and then silence would fall and a look of regret would be on your faces. Part of you regretted breaking up with Tom and going separate ways, but the other part of you knew it had been for the best and would have avoided any conflicts. Tom, on the other hand, wanted you back more than anything. You were still the angelic, funny, sweet young woman he used to know and he missed those days where you were his and he was yours. It was over now. Marc was now yours and you were now Marc’s. Tom couldn’t take that away.

The movie marathon was filled with laughs and funny comments until Marc got home. “Marc, come watch the movies with us?” You grinned, waving for him to come to sit with you. Tom scooted over away from you both slightly as Marc sat next to you, allowing you to rest against him for the movies. Those moments were tense for Tom. He wanted to be the one holding you. He wanted to keep you close and kiss your forehead sweetly. It was too bad Marc was there instead.

The next few weeks were filled with meetings at the coffee shop, hanging out together and more. You and Tom were close again. Close friends though. You’d never cheat on Marc or anyone for that matter. Marc didn’t seem to take it very well though. He was not trustful and was getting more possessive and controlling even. One day, you were going to the coffee shop to work on your next novel since Tom was too busy to hang out, but Marc had other plans.

“Y/n, are you going to hang out with Tom?” He asked you, standing in front of the door.

“No, I’ve got my novel to work on, Marc. I need to finish this chapter,” you explained, putting your laptop into your bag carefully and making sure you had the charger.

“You’re lying, aren’t you.”

“No…” you responded, eyeing Marc suspiciously. “I’m not. I have to work on my novel, Tom is busy today, he’s got a family thing.” You tried moving past Marc to get to the door but then he did something shocking. Grabbing your shoulders, he shoved you against the door forcefully. “Marc!”

“You’re not to see him again, Y/n, I won’t allow it,” Marc practically growled, eyes dark as if his soul had left his body. You stared into his eyes with fear and helplessness.

“You are not to decide who I am to be friends with or not,” you shouted at him, trying to shove him off of you. Marc lost it then. His rage encompassed him and he didn’t hold back. He threw a punch straight at your face, your nose breaking under the pressure. You fell to the ground, eyes widening in horror and wincing from the pain. “What the hell, Marc?!” He didn’t stop at that though. He punched you again, this time hitting your eye. You didn’t pause for a second, grabbing your bag and running out of the flat and out of the building. Tears brimmed in the corners of your eyes as you ran away from the madman still standing in your flat.

You ran and ran and ran and ran. It was a nightmare. This wasn’t what you needed. Your nose was still bleeding and eye bruising quickly but you had to get to the safest place you knew of, even if you were intruding on a family dinner. Once you arrived at the nice house, you knocked on the door urgently, wiping blood onto your sleeve from your nose.

Luckily it was Tom there to greet you.

“Y/n? Oh my god, come inside,” he ushered you in, your tears still falling as you sniffled a little. “What happened?”

Your bottom lip wobbled uncontrollably as you tried to speak. “Marc- I was going to the cafe to work on my next book and Marc, he thought I was seeing you again and he didn’t want me to go. He didn’t- want me to see you even as friends. I tried going past him and he-” you broke into a fit of sobs before Tom’s arms wrapped around you as he pulled you into his chest, not caring if blood from your broken nose was getting on his shirt.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. You can stay here the night, I don’t want you going back there without me.” He rubbed the small of your back gently before pulling out of the hug. “Let’s get your nose cleaned up.”

Leading you to the kitchen, he quickly grabbed a wet washcloth and started cleaning the blood off of your nose and around it. He was very gentle with you, eyes filled with a certain kind of worry as he held his hand against your cheek and pressed the wet cloth against the side of your nose, trying to clean up the blood. Thankfully, the bleeding had stopped and you were finally cleaned up.

“Tom,” you began, gently grabbing onto his other hand. “I’ve been thinking, a lot recently. We’ve become so close again and I started enjoying your company more than I did Marc’s. I didn’t- I didn’t feel the same about being with Marc after seeing you again.”

“Y/n…”

“Tom, I love you,” you finally stated, staring into his honey brown eyes. “I always have. I could never turn you down again. I still care for you, I miss you when you aren’t around. I feel so empty without you. I loved you then, I loved you now. I’ll love you forever.”

Tom bit his lip, staring at you with his loving eyes with the most adoring expression. “I love you more than you could ever, know, Y/n. When I look at you, I can feel it. I look at you and I’m home. You’ve always been home to me, Y/n. When I saw you again I told myself, This is the universe saying you are the most important thing in my life, but when I saw Marc with you, I almost gave up hope until we kept talking. I love you so much. Marc doesn’t deserve someone as kind and trustworthy and loyal as you. “

You smiled lightly, looking up at Tom with love. You leaned closer and pressed your lips to his, noses brushing and smiling into the kiss. Your arms wrapped around him as his arms wrapped around your shoulders. Passion, love, and adoration were all poured into the kiss. The love you shared was unmatchable and the bond was unbreakable. You would both take things step by step into the future.

Tom was your home and you were Tom’s home. Your hearts would lay with each other forever.

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theliberaltony · 4 years ago

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via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Graphics by Anna Wiederkehr

Americans have changed their behavior in ways that would have been unthinkable even a few months ago. Masks are an essential accessory. Social distancing is the norm. And even as states moved to reopen their economies in May and June, many Americans continued to think it was better for people to stay home.

But underneath that apparent consensus is a large — and growing — partisan divide. Even as cases and hospitalizations spike in red states that mostly escaped the early effects of the virus, Republicans and Democrats remain stubbornly split on the threat it poses. For instance, it was only in July that President Trump wore a mask in public for the first time. And perhaps thanks to Trump’s repeated downplaying of the threat that COVID-19 poses, Republicans are much less concerned than Democrats are about the virus.

On the one hand, according to surveys conducted by the Pew Research Center, Republicans have consistently been less likely than Democrats to say that they fear being hospitalized because of COVID-19 or that they might unknowingly spread the virus to others. But on the other hand, that partisan gap has widened significantly between April and June.

It’s hard to find a more extreme test of our tribal political attachments than the current pandemic, where Trump continues to downplay the risks of the virus in the face of near-universal opposition from medical experts. It also raises a thorny issue: In the midst of a pandemic, partisanship appears to be shaping people’s perceptions of their risk and personal behaviors — to the point that our divided politics actually affects our health. For Americans, that might mean that questions of whether to stay home, wear a mask or to see friends and family without social distancing are filtered through a partisan lens.

In other words, do our politics risk making us sick?

It’s pretty clear that at this point, Republicans’ and Democrats’ experiences of the pandemic have been steadily diverging for months. It’s much harder to say, though, what that means for transmission of the virus. Some surveys offer a glimmer of hope, suggesting that the partisan gaps in how people are actually behaving — whether they wear a mask, for example — are much narrower than the divides on questions about what they think the government should do in response to the virus or whether the worst is behind us. It’s possible, too, that some of the partisan divides we’re seeing now could start to narrow as outbreaks spiral out of control in states like Arizona, Florida and Texas.

These trends are cause for alarm among the small army of social scientists who have tried to figure out how Americans are responding to the virus since the beginning of the pandemic — from the conflicting signals they’ve received from Trump and other political leaders, to changing guidelines from public health experts.

“Some Republicans are much less freaked out by the virus than they were a few months ago,” said Marc Hetherington, a political scientist at the University of North Carolina who is tracking Americans’ perspectives of the coronavirus through a panel survey. “But things are changing so quickly — these new outbreaks could scare them and maybe some of that polarization disappears.”

That doesn’t mean the politicization of the virus isn’t having an impact, though. Take the political fighting around whether people should be required to wear masks or the timeline around when businesses should reopen. The virus is spiking in Georgia, with thousands of new cases each day, but the state’s Republican governor is suing the Democratic mayor of Atlanta over the city’s decision to revert to its most restrictive opening phase and mandate the wearing of masks. “The national conversation about how we behave during this pandemic has been so colored by the partisan divide that it’s becoming impossible to talk rationally about the risks we are and are not willing to tolerate,” said Dr. Sandro Galea, an epidemiologist and the dean of the Boston University School of Public Health who studies the politics of public health. “If both sides were pushed out of their corners, they would both have to concede quite a bit, and we’d frankly all be safer.”

Understanding how Americans are responding to the pandemic isn’t an easy task; there are essentially two methods at researchers’ disposal. The first is to use a survey. The second is to look at mobility trends, such as geolocation or credit card data, to see if people are actually behaving the way they say they are. And over the past few months, political scientists and economists have leaned on both methods to figure out how Americans are thinking about the COVID-19 pandemic and how that relates to their behavior. With the exception of a few studies conducted in late March and early April, when fear of the pandemic ground the economy to a complete halt, all of this research has uncovered an accelerating partisan divide, too.

For example, as early as March, a group of researchers found that Democrats in a large panel survey exhibited more worries than Republicans about the pandemic and were also likelier to embrace health behaviors like more frequent hand-washing or avoiding mass gatherings. The first round of Hetherington’s survey suggests a partisan divide in Americans’ support for some public health interventions, like widespread testing.

The problem with these surveys, of course, is that there’s no way to figure out, for example, whether someone who says they’re quarantining is actually doing so. So a number of other studies have tried to figure out what people were actually doing by using geolocation data to follow people’s movements. This research has found basically the same thing as the surveys: People in Republican-leaning counties, or counties that voted for Trump in 2016, didn’t reduce their activity as much as people in Democratic counties.

Another study that looked at individual-level smartphone data found a similar pattern. And one team of researchers examined both survey data and geolocation data and determined that the trend held up for both — people in more Republican areas were less likely to feel at risk because of COVID-19, and they were also less likely to stay at home.

But this mobility data has its own limitations, according to Rebecca Katz, a professor at Georgetown University Medical Center. It can only tell you whether people are leaving their homes, not where they’re going or whether they’re taking precautions. “We’re all using this data because it’s the data we have, but it’s imperfect,” she said. “Sometimes, I pack my kids in a car and we just drive for a little while so we can get out of the house — by my cell phone, we’re moving. But that doesn’t tell someone looking at that data if we are interacting with other people, or if we’re wearing masks.”

Geography is another confounding factor; people in rural areas are more likely to drive places, even if they’re otherwise following public health guidelines, and less densely populated parts of the country were also less hard hit by the virus in the beginning. The problem is that Republicans are more likely to live in those parts of the country — and the effects of political segregation and the virus’s trajectory are very difficult to untangle, especially for studies that were conducted a month or two into the pandemic.

The partisan split was hard to deny, though, so early on, a couple of research teams tried to figure out why Republicans and Democrats were responding to the pandemic differently. Two usual culprits — politicians and the media — emerged as possible factors in the divide.

One study conducted from late February through the end of March found that the partisan divide on risk perception and health behavior only narrowed after the White House issued federal social distancing guidelines, suggesting that Trump’s role as a national Republican leader could be quite significant. Several other studies dug into the impact of cable TV, with one survey finding that an MSNBC viewer’s response to the pandemic was quite different than that of a Fox News watcher. Another study focused only on the impact of Fox News and concluded that an increase in viewership did appear to result in less social distancing. The evidence for the effects of politicians and differing media sources is less robust because there aren’t as many studies, but it does suggest that even when there are serious health risks at stake, how both talk about the virus and the public health response may affect the way people behave.

Shana Gadarian, a professor of political science at Syracuse University who is helping to conduct one of the panel surveys, said she was surprised to see such enormous divides emerge as the pandemic wore on. According to other research she’s conducted, moments of extreme anxiety and uncertainty can actually make people more open to new sources of information — including public health experts and leaders from the opposing party. So at the beginning of the pandemic, she and her team expected that Americans would coalesce around public health experts’ recommendations, or that other demographic factors — like age — would turn into key dividing lines.

Scientists and doctors do still enjoy a high level of trust from most Americans, as Maggie Koerth wrote for FiveThirtyEight in May. But that doesn’t mean they are entirely immune to the winds of partisanship — for example, Democrats are likelier than Republicans to trust the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Crucially, though, big divides haven’t emerged everywhere. According to the latest wave of the Democracy Fund’s Voter Study Group, conducted between July 2 to 8, the vast majority (88 percent) of Republicans said they wore a mask when going out in public, even though Republicans in greater numbers have said in other surveys that the government shouldn’t require people to wear masks. And according to Robert Griffin, research director of the Voter Study Group, that’s significantly higher than in any wave of the weekly data going back to May 28. There was more of a partisan gap in responses to other questions about coronavirus-related behavior, although it was still fairly modest.

So are these partisan splits actually driving the spread of the virus?

As it turns out, it’s hard to prove that Republicans’ resistance to mask mandates or social distancing is actually worsening the pandemic. One reason is that political scientists and economists don’t feel equipped to take on the epidemiological modeling that would be necessary to measure what, say, a partisan divide on hand-washing actually means for the spread of the disease. Yael Hochberg, an economist at Rice University, said that the lack of uniformity in testing data made her reluctant to wade into the public health data. “There are places where testing still isn’t widely available,” Hochberg said. “And if testing isn’t uniform, it’s hard to compare what you’re seeing in one county versus another.”

One study tried to pin down the effect of differing levels of compliance with social distancing policies among Republicans and Democrats using individual geolocation data. It concluded that a Trump voter who contracts COVID-19 infects 16 percent more people than a comparable Clinton voter. That’s a striking finding — but it’s also only one study, and several infectious disease experts who reviewed the paper at my request were a little skeptical of its conclusions.

Samuel Scarpino, a professor at Northeastern University who studies infectious diseases, said that it can be very difficult, even in a sophisticated model, to separate all of the confounding factors that could be at play, like geography. And Katz said that without information about whether people are wearing masks or engaging in social distancing, it’s hard to draw very solid conclusions about transmission from mobility data.

Scarpino was quick to add, though, that polarization can still be a serious problem, even if it’s hard to quantify its precise impact. “If politicians’ messaging is making people feel like they’re safe from COVID, those are people who are unnecessarily being put at risk,” he said. He’s also concerned that public health experts’ credibility will erode as certain health behaviors, like mask-wearing or social distancing, become associated with one party or another. “We’re kind of building the airplane as we fly it and we need to be able to change course when we get new evidence,” he said. “But it becomes harder to have those conversations and get buy-in from the public as the whole process becomes more politicized.”

There’s danger in exaggerating the extent of the partisan divide, though. Galea told me that he’s been struck by the fact that so many Americans — including nearly all Republicans — report they are going along with health experts’ recommendations, like wearing masks, at least to some degree. And it would be a mistake, Galea said, to gloss over this unusual level of partisan unity, because it’s a sign that health behaviors aren’t as divisive as they could be, given the strength of partisan loyalties.

“Nobody should ignore the fact that people on the political extremes are embracing polarizing positions on health behavior that should not be polarized,” Galea said. “But I think the evidence we have indicates that most people have tried to be responsible and adopt the recommended behaviors, even at a time of immense polarization and confusion and discomfort.”

That said, he still thinks some politicians — and in particular, Trump — need to do more to get on the same page as public health experts. “It’s not that politics is making it impossible to implement these health behaviors, because we see that many ordinary people are getting on board regardless of what political leadership is saying,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean we should give politicians a pass for turning these serious, serious health conversations into a political football, because that is very much to our detriment.”

#IFTTT #Politics – FiveThirtyEight #politics #538 #Amelia Thomson-DeVeaux

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phroyd · 4 years ago

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HOUSTON — Over the past week, Dr. Aric Bakshy, an emergency physician at Houston Methodist, had to decide which coronavirus patients he should admit to the increasingly busy hospital and which he could safely send home.

To discuss questions like these, he has turned to doctors at hospitals where he trained in New York City that were overwhelmed by the coronavirus this spring. Now their situations are reversed.

Thumbing through a dog-eared notebook during a recent shift, Dr. Bakshy counted about a dozen people he had treated for coronavirus symptoms. His colleagues in Houston had attended to many more. Meanwhile, friends at Elmhurst Hospital in Queens told him that their emergency department was seeing only one or two virus patients a day.

As Houston’s hospitals face the worst outbreak of the virus in Texas, now one of the nation’s hot zones, Dr. Bakshy and others are experiencing some of the same challenges that their New York counterparts did just a few months ago and are trying to adapt some lessons from that crisis.

Like New York City in March, the Houston hospitals are experiencing a steep rise in caseloads that is filling their beds, stretching their staffing, creating a backlog in testing and limiting the availability of other medical services. Attempts to buy more supplies — including certain protective gear, vital-sign monitors and testing components — are frustrated by weeks of delays, according to hospital leaders.

Methodist is swiftly expanding capacity and hiring more staff, including local nurses who had left their jobs to work in New York when the city’s hospitals were pummeled. “A bed’s a bed until you have a staff,” said Avery Taylor, the nurse manager of a coronavirus unit created just outside Houston in March.

But with the virus raging across the region, medical workers are falling ill. Dr. Bakshy was one of the first at Methodist to have Covid-19, getting it in early March. As of this past week, the number of nurses being hired to help open new units would only replace those out sick.

Methodist, a top-ranked system of eight hospitals, had nearly 400 coronavirus inpatients last Sunday. Nearly a week later — even as physicians tried to be conservative in admitting patients and discharged others as soon as they safely could — the figure was 575. The flagship hospital added 130 inpatient beds in recent days and rapidly filled them. Now, administrators estimate that the number of Covid-19 patients across the system could reach 800 or 900 in coming weeks, and are planning to accommodate up to 1,000.

Other Houston hospitals are seeing similar streams of patients. Inundated public hospitals are sending some patients to private institutions like Methodist while reportedly transferring others to Galveston, 50 miles away.

“What’s been disheartening over the past week or two has been that it feels like we’re back at square one,” Dr. Mir M. Alikhan, a pulmonary and critical care specialist, said to his medical team before rounds. “It’s really a terrible kind of sinking feeling. But we’re not truly back at square one, right? Because we have the last three months of expertise that we’ve developed.”

Houston’s hospitals have some advantages compared with New York’s in the spring. Doctors know more now about how to manage the sickest patients and are more often able to avoid breathing tubes, ventilators and critical care. But one treatment shown to shorten hospital stays, the antiviral drug remdesivir, is being allocated by the state, and hospitals here have repeatedly run out of it.

Methodist’s leaders, who were planning for a surge and had been dealing with a stream of coronavirus patients since March, pointed to the most important difference between Houston now and New York then: the patient mix. The majority of new patients here are younger and healthier and are not as severely ill as many were in New York City, where officials report that over 22,000 are likely to have died from the disease.

But so far, the death toll has not climbed much in Texas and other parts of the South and West seeing a surge.

“We are having to pioneer the way of trying to understand a different curve with some very good characteristics versus the last curve,” said Dr. Marc Boom, Methodist’s president and chief executive.

But he cautioned, “What I’m watching really closely is whether we see a shift back in age — because if the young really get this way out there and then start infecting all of the older, then we may look more like the last wave.”

Dr. Sylvie de Souza, head of the emergency department at Brooklyn Hospital Center, which on Friday reported no new coronavirus admissions and no current inpatient cases, said that she was receiving distressing text messages from doctors elsewhere in the country asking for advice. “It’s disappointing,” she said. “It sort of brings me back to the end of March, and it’s like being there all over again.”

One of the most worrisome trends, hospital administrators said, is the increased politicization of public health measures against the virus. The hospitals in Houston are operating in a very different environment now compared with during New York’s peak in the spring, when federal, state and local leaders agreed to a national pause.

Here in Texas, political leaders have been at odds with one another, and residents sharply disagree about the danger the virus poses and what precautions are necessary. At some Houston hospitals, visitors and patients have refused to wear masks, creating conflicts with security guards at entrances.

As the Fourth of July holiday approached, Methodist spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on a public information campaign — including full-page ads wrapped around a local newspaper, social media efforts and billboards. “Stay Safe and Stay Home This July 4th,” the signs say. Methodist also sent a text message to about 10,000 patients providing safety tips. In response, the hospital system received some angry phone calls and texts. “How about you stay at home and quit telling me what to do,” was how one hospital official described them.

The economy in Texas remains open, with only bars shuttered, but Gov. Greg Abbott on Thursday issued an order requiring Texans to wear face coverings in public after long opposing such a mandate.

“There is a glimmer of some optimism,” Dr. Boom told the health system’s physicians this past week, reporting that county testing figures showed some signs of improvement.

Many hospitals in New York during the earlier crisis essentially became all-Covid units and endured billions of dollars in losses.

But Methodist and some other private Houston institutions are trying to operate differently now after taking a financial beating from shutting down elective surgeries and procedures this spring.

With safety protocols and expansion plans in place, they are trying to maintain as many services as possible for as long as possible while contending with the flood of coronavirus cases. “No one’s ever done that before,” Dr. Boom said. “We were seeing all the harm from patients delaying care.”

Doctors and nurses have combed through lists of surgical patients, choosing whom to delay. The easiest surgeries to maintain are those that do not require a hospital stay, like treatment for cataracts. Some surgeons who used to keep patients overnight after knee and hip replacements are now allowing them to leave the same day.

The most agonizing decisions concern the hospital’s robust transplant program, in part because its recipients often require a stay in intensive care. Dr. A. Osama Gaber, the program’s director, spoke with a dialysis patient whose kidney transplant had been postponed from March. “She was in tears,” he said. “She almost wanted me to swear to her we’re not going to put her off again.” For now the surgeons plan to continue cautiously.

A key strategy to maintain services is increasing what hospital officials call throughput — discharging patients as quickly as is safely possible. Yet it is not always clear who is ready to leave. Alexander Nelson-Fryar, a 25-year-old treated for coronavirus pneumonia at Methodist, was discharged from the hospital this past week. Hours after he left, he said, he began laboring to breathe and an ambulance sped him back to Methodist. By the end of the week, he was in intensive care receiving a high dose of pressurized oxygen.

As cases began rising in New York, some overwhelmed emergency departments sent home coronavirus patients only to see them return gravely ill or die. “We realized there was no way of predicting which direction a patient would go,” said Dr. de Souza, the emergency department director in Brooklyn. As a result, she said, she came to believe that any patient aside from those with the mildest symptoms should be admitted to the hospital or otherwise monitored.

But doctors in Houston are tightening criteria for admission. Dr. Bakshy, the Methodist emergency room doctor, who trained at Bellevue and Mount Sinai in New York, said that he was conferring with his former colleagues.

“We all have questions about who truly needs to be hospitalized versus not,” he said. “If we had unlimited resources, of course we’d bring people in just to make sure they’re OK.”

Now, he said, a patient has to have low oxygen levels or serious underlying conditions “to really justify coming into the hospital,” although exceptions can be made.

Another challenge in New York and Houston has been determining who is infected and needs to be isolated from others. Nearly 40 percent of all emergency room patients at Methodist are now testing positive; some of them lack symptoms.

Because test results are sometimes delayed by more than a day, Dr. Bakshy and his colleagues have had to make their best guesses as to whether someone should be admitted to a ward for coronavirus patients.

Hospitals in New York tended to move patients within their own systems to level loads. In Houston, the wealthier institutions have joined together to aid those least able to expand capacity.

This past week, Methodist sent a team to a nearby public hospital to accept transfer patients. Top officials from Methodist and the other flagship hospitals that make up the Texas Medical Center, normally competitors, consult regularly by phone. They have been coordinating for days with the county’s already overwhelmed safety-net system, Harris Health, taking in its patients. The private institutions have also agreed to take turns, with others in the state, accepting patients from rural hospitals.

Better Treatments

One morning this past week, Molly Tipps, a registered nurse, brought some medications to an older patient at the Methodist ward outside Houston. “I have the dexamethasone for your lungs,” she told the patient, Dee Morton. Preliminary results of a large study, released last month but not yet peer-reviewed, showed that the drug, a common steroid, saved lives among those who were critically ill with Covid-19 or required oxygen.

Ms. Morton, 79, said she was confident she would recover. “I’m going to make it to 80,” she said. A much lower proportion of patients have been dying from the virus locally and nationally than they were several months ago.

The ward where Ms. Morton is being treated is inside a long-term acute-care facility and is known as the Highly Infectious Disease Unit. Created to treat Ebola several years ago, it now serves as a safety valve for the Methodist system. It takes in coronavirus patients who are improving but for various reasons — from lacking housing to living in a nursing home that will not accommodate them — cannot go home. In Ms. Morton’s case, she was too weak, and after transferring to the unit, some signs of infection, including a fever, rebounded.

At Methodist’s flagship hospital in central Houston, Rosa V. Hernandez, 72, a patient in the intensive care unit, has pneumonia so severe that if she had fallen sick several months ago, she would probably have been put on a ventilator and made unconscious.

But doctors, based on the experiences of physicians in New York and elsewhere, are avoiding ventilators when possible and are maintaining Ms. Hernandez on a high flow of oxygen through a nasal tube. She is on the maximum setting, but can talk to the clinical team and exchange text messages with her daughter, who is also a Methodist inpatient with the coronavirus.

“I took it seriously,” Ms. Hernandez said of the virus. But she joined a small party of eight people for her granddaughter’s birthday, a decision she now described with regret. “Just a birthday cake. What’s a birthday cake without health?”

She is getting remdesivir, an antiviral that was tested in clinical trials in New York and Houston, among other cities, and a new experimental drug.

Methodist was part of two remdesivir trials. But because the research has ended, it and other hospitals now depend on allotments of the drug from the state. As virus cases increased, the supplies ran short, said Katherine Perez, an infectious-disease specialist at the hospital. “In Houston, every hospital that’s gotten the drug, everyone’s just kind of used it up,” she said.

The hospital received 1,000 vials, its largest batch ever, a little over a week ago. Within four days, all the patients who could be treated with it had been selected, and pharmacists were awaiting another shipment.

A new chance to test remdesivir in a clinical trial in combination with another drug may provide some relief. As cases rise, Methodist researchers are being flooded with offers to participate in studies, with about 10 to 12 new opportunities a week being vetted centrally. Without solid research, “your option is to do a bunch of unproven, potentially harmful, potentially futile, interventions to very sick people who are depending on you,” said Dr. H. Dirk Sostman, president of Methodist’s academic medicine institute.

Convincing the Public

Dr. Boom, the Methodist chief executive, said if he could preserve one thing from the New York experience in March, it would be how the country came together as it had in previous disasters.

When cases began rising again in Texas, hospital officials here spent close to a month trying to educate the public about the risks of contagion. “It didn’t work,” Dr. Boom said.

“How do you get the message out there when certain people just don’t hear it and then you’re dealing with quarantine fatigue and it’s summer and I’m done with school and I just believe I’m 20 and I’m invincible?” he asked. “We told everybody this is all about the sick, vulnerable population, which was the truth, but they heard the message of ‘Well, therefore I’m fine.’ And now we’re doing the re-education on that.”

But even some of Methodist’s physicians, like many Texans, take issue with measures promoted by most public health experts. “A lot of the masks that people are wearing in public don’t do very much,” said Dr. Beau Briese, director of international emergency medicine, contradicting studies that point to a substantial benefit with universal face coverings.

Dr. Briese, 41, believes the soundest approach is to keep opening businesses but have the population at highest risk, including older people, stay apart from the broader public. Some of Methodist’s patients find even those measures objectionable.

One patient on Dr. Bakshy’s emergency room shift, Genevieve McCall, 96, came to the hospital with a satchel full of nightgowns because her legs had swollen, a sign of worsening heart failure. Dr. Bakshy asked about any exposure to the coronavirus. She said her caregiver had been out since the previous day with a fever and a sore throat.

Born five years after the 1918 flu, Ms. McCall, a retired nurse, said that until the coronavirus, she told people she thought she had seen everything. “I question a lot of things,” she said of the safety restrictions. “They’ve been too tight about it. And every time that there is a little bit of a spike, then we’re restricted more.”

Ms. McCall, who tested negative for the virus, added: “This is a political year. I think that politics has a lot to do with the way this has been handled. And I think it’s been mishandled.”

She said that it was difficult to be stuck in her apartment in an independent-living complex that was prohibiting visitors, canceling many activities and delivering meals to rooms instead of serving them in the dining room. “It’s very depressing,” she said. “Until this afternoon, when my daughter walked in the door to come and pick me up and bring me here, I had not been able to see her or touch her for three months, more.”

#new york city #texas #covid

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itsanerdlife · 5 years ago

Text

Smoke 9/16

Pairing: Ronin!Clint Batron x Black Cat!Reader

Warning: Violence. Torture mentioned. Death mentioned. Nightmares. Lies. Seducing. Sexual humor. Broken and damaged pasts. Killing. Possessive Male. Struggling to open up. Secrets. Dark past.

A/N: ENDGAME SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN IT, DON’T READ THIS!!!

After the snap, the avengers split apart. Finding their own ways to cope. Clint found his under a new identity, Ronin. Getting revenge for those they lost. For the family taken from them. The evil left when heroes were wiped out, it became his mission to take out the evil. All while keeping a list of those who could help, if needed one day. Clint stumbles upon a woman, Cat. She’s a mystery in the dark. One happen stance meet, one night, gone like smoke.

After the second snap, setting the world right again. Fury is looking at those kept tabs on. When Cat appears on the screen, nobody know a lot about the mysterious woman who haunted Clint’s dreams and stole his favorite T-shirt. There’s a chance she’s in trouble, can Clint find her, convince her there is more, that he can save her? But is he the cause of what’s after her? Just what mystery is she keeping all to herself? Or is he the one she’s trying to save?

Clint

His jaw worked in angry ticks. Chewing the inside of his cheek to keep his tongue from lashing out. What was he supposed to do, sit there and watch? Bucky’s hand slips up Y/N’s bare arm and his hand grips his knees to keep him in place. His girl. His best friend. Having their own private conversation on the edge of the room. Her head tips slowly to one side, as if she was listening to his own internal struggle.

Clint clenches his jaw. Looking away from the two off to the side of the room. He cuts his eyes to Nat who sat at the other end of the couch. It’s pouring rain this morning, everyone was kicked back waiting for it to clear. Or till they were called to run out the door. He slips towards Nat, her eyes cut up from her book watching him.

“What?” She lifts a brow.

“Nothing.” He shrugs. His arm slips over the back of the couch, behind her. If Buck could do it, so could Clint. Not that he was actually into Nat, that was more like finding your sister attractive.

“Why are you near me Barton?” Nat sighs, not looking up from her book this time.

“How are you?” He smiles at her. “Good?” Now she looks up at him, like she was waiting for him to confess his sins.

“Better, if you moved away from me.” She snorts.

“You and Buck. Good?” He nods slowly. She looks passed him, at the two still talking. She rolls her eyes, her hand comes up.

“Get away from me, Clint.” Covering his face, she shoves him back. He goes over, before straightening up a little farther away from her now.

“Nat.” He scuffs.

“Drama Queen.” Nat smirks back at her book.

“She talks to him, but not me.” He huffs, admitting his issue. She sighs, closing her book she looks over at him.

“Clint you can’t push the broken.” She shakes her head softly. “It doesn’t work that way and you know it.” She gives him a pointed look.

“She thinks sex is a commitment.” He mutters.

“It’s a step towards opening yourself, emotionally. That is commitment to girls like us.” She shrugs.

“Fuck.” He sighs, scrapping his hands down his face. He turns, dropping back, his head in Nat’s lap. She snorts, picking up a pillow she waits for him to lift his head, shoving it into place for him. She had a point, she was more like Nat than he really cared to look.

“You don’t push me to talk about my secrets.” She looks down at him. “Why are you so pushy with her?” She quirks a brow.

“Because what I feel for her is very different.” He sighs.

“You’re scared to lose her, again.” Nat sighs. “But you push her and you’re going to lose her anyways and you know that.” She taps her pointer finger into his forehead. He swats at her hand.

“Oh what do you know.” He huffs.

“Drama Queen.” She grins.

“Satan.” He rolls his eyes.

“Awe. Thank you.” Nat melts a little.

“You really are fucked up.” He snorts.

“Like your girlfriend.” She gives him a cocky smirk.

“I hate you.” He mutters.

“Could you be more possessive of a woman who literally gives the vibe, of kill you in your sleep?” Nat grins.

“It’s a nice thrill. Am I going to wake up today? Is she going to kill me? Or is she going to seduce me and rob me?” He shrugs.

“You’d still ask her to come back.” Nat laughs.

“I’m a little fucked up.” He grins at her.

“Preaching to the choir, Marc.” She shakes her head, picking up her book again.

----------

“Um.” She squeaks softly, from the chair she was curled up in. He folds the paper in half, looking at her. Hair tied up on top of her head. She wore a faded T-shirt and a pair of comfy shorts.

“Babe?” He lifts a brow, wondering what she was up too.

“They’re debts paid.” She blurts out. “People I’ve killed for what they did to me.” She speaks to her hands, not looking up. The rest of them exchange a look, understanding where she was going with this.

“The tattoos?” Wanda wonders.

“Yeah.” She nods.

“Okay.” He nods, straightening his paper back out.

“That’s it?” She seemed almost surprised. “Okay?” He folds the paper down again, looking at her.

“You have tattoos. I have a small notebook of people for Karma.” He nods, her head tips.

“I have a ledger, with photos.” Nat nods.

“I have a database.” Tony grins. Clint snorts.

“Karma?” She looks over at him. “Really?”

“I read the obituaries and cross them out in my notebook.” He nods.

“What did the circus do to you?” Buck laughs.

“Nothing. Why?” Clint looks back at the paper in his hands.

“Who are the arrows for?” Peter asks softly.

“That’s a bigger story.” She swallows, chewing her bottom lip.

“My dad worked for Oscorp.” Peter nods. “The reason I survived the bite, was because he secretly stabilized the formula with his DNA. That’s why it kills everyone else.” Peter admits. Clint’s eyes cut to her once more.

“I had a sister, Maddie.” She looks down at her fingers twisted together.

“Had?” Sam eyes flick around.

“I was thirteen when I was patient zero.” She nods. “Maddie was six. They made her patient one. It killed her.” She whispers softly. It clicked into place for Clint.

“That’s why you are,” he nods “with Morgan.” Peter and Tony exchange a look.

“She reminds me of Maddie. Maddie was obsessed with Odin. Odin, he’s never grown attached to another child. Till now.” She shrugs.

“I’ll share her with you.” Peter grins.

“The arrows are for, the scientists, those who were there. Six of them.” She nods.

“You have seven.” Clint watches her.

“One for my father.” She stares back at him.

“How long have you been on your own?” Tony asks.

“Since I was fifteen.” She nods. “Never trusted anyone after that.” She sighs.

“Till now.” Buck smirks.

“I’ll find a way to kill you Frankenstein.” She points a finger at him.

“Don’t poke the cat, Buck.” Nat sighs, going back to her book. Buck and Sam laugh, dirty grins on their faces.

“I’ll kill you.” Clint sighs, setting the paper down.

“I need coffee.” Sam looks down at his cup, he’s out of his chair and leaving the room.

“I’m going to find Steve.” Buck nods, heading in the other direction.

“Possessive.” Nat coughs into her hand. Wanda cackles, Peter inhales his coffee.

“Satan, shut up.” Clint sighs.

“Who knew the devil was so hot. Is that how you get your hair so red?” Y/N grins, leaning forward.

“The blood of my enemies.” Nat winks at her.

“How do you get yours so white?” Wanda grins.

“All the souls I’ve sucked out.” She laughs, Tony coughs clapping a hand over his mouth. Peter dripples coffee down his shirt in shock.

“Really?” Clint sighs, looking over at her.

“What?” She bats wide, grey eyes at him. “Urban myth says Black Cat’s sucked the souls from people. It’s an old witches curse.” She shrugs, leaning back in her seat, picking up her phone.

“She’s so hot, it actually hurts.” Nat grins at him.

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

Everything Peaches 2/6/19: @xmtd5 @mo320 @all1e23 @courtmr @avxgers @eliza-kat @izzy--lee @irepeldirt @dumblani @nishanki1 @crist1216 @alyssaj23 @allyp1023 @joannie95 @kolakube9 @rileyloves5 @sarahp879 @sea040561 @tomhardy41 @sexyvixen7 @pcterpvrker @pigwidgexn @doctoranon @abschaffer2 @justrae9903 @bookluver01 @teller258316 @callie-bear15 @nickimarie94 @wandressfox @amandab-ftw @carostar2020 @henrietteoaks @nea90sweetie @circusofchaos @itsagalaxystar @bettercallsabs @miraclesoflove @lucifersnipnips @queenkrissy11 @this-is-mycrisis @sadyoungadult @destiel-artemis @paintballkid711 @isabelcrichards @iwillbeinmynest @sweet-honey15 @chanelmadrid13 @mellxander1993 @killerbumblebee @spookygrantaire @geeksareunique @supernatural508 @sammysgirl1997 @itzmegaaaaaaan @booksbeforebois @childishhoebinoo @elizabethaellison @aspiringtranslator @mariekoukie6661 @pure-princess-97 @capsheadquaters @samanthasmileys @nerdypinupcrystal @atlas-of-the-world @youclickedthislink @futuremrsb-r-main @lovemarvelousfics @notyourtypicalrose @petersunderoos96 @loving-life-my-way @buckystolemyheart @booktvmoviefangirl @supernatural-girl97 @dumbbitchenergytm @abbypalmer14-blog @fanfictionjunkie1112 @meganlikesfandoms @awkwardfangirl2014 @supernaturaldean67 @neverahdullmoment @xqueenofthecraziesx @queenoftheunderdark @writingaworldofmyown @supernaturallover2002 @daughterofthenight117 @mustbeaweasleyginger @mcuwillbethedeathofme @sprinklesandsugarcubes @whothehellisbucky-1930 @verymuchclosetedfangirl @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan @wonderlandfandomkingdom @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @stupendoussciencenaturepanda @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @supernatural-strangerthings-1980

Marvel Tag List 2/6/19: @lumelgy @dottirose @jcc04220 @rockagurl @a--1--1--3 @mizzzpink @jade-taillia @coley0823 @widowsfics @bookluver01 @thelostallycat @shield-agent78 @dtftheavengers @ilovetvshowsblog @capsheadquaters @iamwarrenspeace @thefridgeismybestie @whenallsaidanddone @deanwinchestersrifle @fandomsstolemylife00 @daughterofthenight117 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect

Clint ‘Destory Me, I’ll Thank You’ Barton: @ml7010 @coley0823 @yavanna80 @lakamaa12 @boltsgirl919 @feelmyroarrrr @mrsseizetheday @honey-bee-holly @marvelfansworld @mybarnesmyhero @the-real-mary-jane @dumbbitchenergytm @agentsinstorybrooke @x-whyareyoureadingthis-x @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

Smoke: @2s0uls @xxloki81xx @csigeoblue @demonlover87 @capandbuckylvr @marvelfansworld @natromanoffsboys @barton-you-dummy @thefandomimagines @thosesexytexasboys

#Marvel #Clint Barton x Reader #Avengers #Clint x Reader #Smoke #Marvel Fanfiction #Clint Barton Series #Avengers Fanfiction #Ronin Series

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thedistantstorm · 5 years ago

Text

Dawning Delights 04: The Sounds of the Season

Summary: Hawthorne invites her newfound family in the Tower to experience a City-Style Dawning with the family that took her in years ago. The holiday is not without it’s charm, or aggravation, and certainly has plenty of surprises in store. A season-inspired, trope-tastic story about a family forged by something greater than blood, finding reasons to enjoy the season - and cherish each other. Main Post

Pairings: Hawthorne/Zavala, Sloane/Amanda, Devrim/Marc

Updated every Tuesday/Friday & both holiday eve and days for Christmas and New Years.

Something is different about the Tower. There’s usually some manner of ruckus, chaos, or conflict that puts the entirety of the wall on high alert, but this is nothing like that. Things are almost… tranquil. Guardians are running around as usual, but Zavala cannot discern any immediate threat or danger, only that there is a deviation beyond the decorations within the Tower proper.

He lingers a few minutes longer. Then, deciding not to press the issue, he heads to the Bazaar to speak with Ikora.

Upon his arrival to the other open air area of the Tower, he discovers that something seems off here, too. However, he’s distracted by Ikora’s presence beside Hawthorne, upon her ledge. Whatever they’re conversing about, it doesn’t seem to be serious. Suraya’s shoulders are back, not raised and uncomfortable.

He strides up the steps to the tiny ledge, together the three of them are very nearly crowded together.

“Ah,” Ikora hums, stepping into the doorway that leads up to an upper patio. “Good morning, Commander.”

“Hey,” Suraya says, far less formal. “What’s up?”

“Do you notice anything strange?” He asks them both.

“Oh, we have,” Ikora nods. “I’ve heard that infuriating about a hula hoop five times in the last two hours.”

“Song?”

Hawthorne gestures to a speaker woven seamlessly into the bits and baubles that decorate the Tower. “Holiday songs. Golden age ones. I don’t know who this ‘Alvin’ or his ‘Chipmunks’ are, but they’re a special kind of torture.”

“I agree.” Ikora waves a hand. “Perhaps if we send our fireteams out with this heinous assault to the senses our enemies would give up and leave the system.”

“I don’t think a song would-”

The Warlock Vanguard interrupts, her voice stern. “Just wait. You’ll understand it, I assure you.”

It's a catchy song from a dead religion. It takes two hours for him to hear the song on the Tower PA - apparently Ikora had sent Ophiuchus to intervene - but when he does, the strange, high-pitched quality of their voices is incredibly irritating. The melody is… something.

Before he knows it, it's stuck in his head.

Even his Ghost can't take it.

She appears before him, annoyed. "I'm going to see if Eva will turn this off. Or at least change it to something - anything else,” She says aloud, annoyed. “If we have to listen to this for the next two weeks, I don't know what I'll do."

He doesn't get a word in before she zips off, delicately drifting over the heads of officers and Guardians to seek out the celebration's mistress of ceremonies.

When she returns, he feels it. She does not linger in the physical realm.

"Apparently, the frames really like them."

"Like whom?" Zavala thinks back through their link.

"Those... chipmunks."

Zavala turns to look out over the City, and does his best to clear his mind. He has another hour before his lunch hour and the entirety of his afternoon are double booked with meetings and office appointments. Even with centuries of practice in meditation, he cannot seem to escape the abysmal melodies that play.

Across the way, Shaxx is shouting sharply, irked more than usual. Meanwhile, Arcite sways happily to the beat of a song about silver and gold that makes no sense.

He's nearly tuned it all out when:

"ARCITE, IF YOU SING THAT CHORUS ONE MORE TIME, I WILL THROW YOU OVER THE BLOODY RAILING!"

Zavala blinks his eyes away from the Core, white and shining in the distance. He knows that's an empty threat. Arcite is Shaxx's most trusted, unendingly loyal partner. But an outburst like that is bound to cause more harm than good for the Guardians in the Crucible, and, more importantly, Zavala needs to get him sorted out before-

"Nothing changes around here, I see," Comes a growl, further back. Shaxx falls silent, crossing his arms and scoffing.

"Arcite," Shaxx croons almost lovingly to the frame, "Forget I said anything. Sing, dance, enjoy the season." Quieter, he asks, "And see if you can't get the frame in charge of the PA system to play more of those offensive tracks with those squeaking rodents. I'm sure the old man will love them."

Zavala rubs his temples. He can already tell half of his afternoon will be mediating their squabbles. Between meetings in which he is also mediating other people's squabbles. At least his office does not have one of those speakers routed through it.

Suraya returns home late. Nothing of issue, just much to do, and not enough time in the day. He's already in bed, but the sound of the door opening is enough to put him on alert and set aside his crochet. Unlike her, he does know when to set aside his projects before he falls asleep.

He hears the sound of her footfalls, quiet, almost silent across the wood floor. She brushes her teeth, washes her face, and returns to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water. Then, he knows, she comes to the bedroom, quietly pushing open the door for fear of waking him on the off chance he's nodded off.

"Hey," She whispers, not needing to be loud.

"Hello." He pats the bed beside him and she begins shucking off her clothes.

When she's down to undergarments, she trades the top half for a shirt that doesn't belong to her and slips between the blankets he's peeled away to welcome her in. "So," She begins, grinning, "How much do you love me?"

He tsks. "That depends. How many laws have you broken?"

"None," She chimes brightly. "Changed woman." Her eyes search his. "Thought you knew that."

"Mmm," He hums indulgently. "And yet, when you ask me something like this, I can't help but wonder what fires I'll be putting out come first light."

"Again, none." He looks at her with the full weight of his gaze, every ounce Vanguard Commander. She doesn't back down, which comes as a relief. Instead, she yields, "I mean, the frames might be a little upset."

"The frames?"

She pushes herself against him, tucking her head against the pillow and looking up at him. He can see the exhaustion on her features from this angle. "I stopped by to see my dad. Grabbed an," She rolls her eyes but her lips quirk into a quick, tiny smile, "Alternative to what the frames have been playing all day. Should be just light enough to keep everyone from a murderous rampage, but also satisfy the frames and their very weird desire to hear bells jingling and whatnot."

"The frames can-"

She nods into his bare chest. "I also asked Ikora to help encrypt the files. They need her security clearance. I offered to add yours, but she's confident no one will get past her."

Suraya pushes his chest, and he rolls onto his back without protest. Despite her tiredness, she swings herself atop him. "So," She asks again, cheeky, "How much do you love me?"

Blue eyes meet hers intently. "You're incredible," He breathes, hands finding her hips. She tilts her head back, anticipating his response, but he flips them, letting her sink into the mattress. She does so bonelessly, eyes sinking shut and opening slowly a few seconds later. "Sleep."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"You know I love you," He rumbles, low and rough, pulling the duvet up and over her. He decides not to comment that she’d absolutely have acted outside of her jurisdiction and used his encryption codes if Ikora had decided it necessary.

"Mmm," She agrees, waiting for him to turn out the lights before scooching a little closer to him. "But how much?" She asks, her words slurring when he nudges his knees against the back of hers, pulling her against him in a loose, one-armed embrace.

"Enough to show my gratitude to you in the morning, Suraya."

"That's a lot," She decides.

He chuckles, soft and warm in her ear. "You have no idea."

"I need to speak with you," Zavala bids him early the next morning. The fires crackle and pop, creating a thick heat that warms Saladin's entire area. Beneath them, Shaxx is already yelling, though he stops to holler a hearty greeting to the Clan Stewardess as she heads to her post for the morning.

"About?" Saladin is curt, but it does not bother Zavala. He's used to things being nearly terse and rather business-like within the confines of the Tower. Though the Iron Lord holds no actual title of power in the City, he is treated as though he does.

"A matter for the holiday." He lowers his voice. "Suraya is having everyone over to her family's home."

Saladin's stern nature is unyielding. "And she wishes to invite me?"

"We both would," Zavala intones. "It's hardly a secret that we have been seeing each other."

"And we're to celebrate with her family.”

"Yes. A casual affair. Food, drink, and found family, as she calls it."

He strokes his chin once. "Hm. That's all?"

"Yes," Zavala agrees. "We aren't doing gifts or anything like that."

"And?"

Zavala muses, "Shaxx is invited, but Amanda has dedicated herself to keeping him in line."

Saladin's eyes narrow. "Anything else?"

"Not that I am aware of."

"You're sure?" Saladin's right eyebrow rises almost imperceptibly.

The Commander shakes his head. "It may get out of hand, I was told these things do," He supposes to his old mentor. "Please don't feel obligated to attend, we just wished to extend the invitation-"

"Obviously I'm going to attend," Saladin interjects. The Iron Lord resists the urge to roll his eyes. "Tell her I would be honored." He turns Zavala around with a wide palm, and Zavala straightens when a large arm bars across his upper back to usher him away. "Let's walk and talk, shall we?" Saladin's usual growl turns lower. "You're sure there's nothing else about this gathering I need to know?"

"I don't believe so."

"No surprises?"

Zavala turns his head to regard his mentor's face, his lips pursing for a second. "I am working on bringing Devrim home, as a surprise for Suraya, but that is a secret. No one knows."

Saladin hums. When they're further away from everyone, overlooking the mountains beyond the wall, he releases Zavala, tucking one fist into the other hand behind his back. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. His head tilts, waiting. "And?"

"And what?"

"Try again, and remember that I speak to Tyra quite frequently."

"Tyra?"

"Tyra Karn-"

Zavala waves a hand. "I know, I know, but-" He stops abruptly, falling still. Those earnest blue eyes are blown wide, glowing brighter in momentary panic.

"There it is," Saladin mutters in his usual growl.

"Devrim would not have told her," Zavala hastily replies.

"He didn't have to. You came looking for him." He doesn't quite smirk back at Zavala, but his gaze is amused. "You may as well waved a flag with your intentions on it."

"I was cautious," Zavala points out.

"Certainly," Saladin barks, "But she doesn't miss a trick." He thumps the other Titan once on the back. There is a passing silence, then, "Well? Explain yourself this instant!"

Zavala jumps, quick to make eye contact and collect his thoughts so that he can comply with the request.

He's nervous, Saladin realizes, but he cannot help himself. As Zavala begins outlining his plan (taking great care to confirm no one is around to overhear), Saladin graces him with the rarest of smiles, proud and true.

"This is what you want?" He asks his former charge, when he's finished. It's a loaded question, but Saladin knows Zavala would consider every angle, even the less pleasant ones of a decision like this. It cannot be taken lightly.

"Yes," Zavala’s reply is immediate. "More than I have wanted anything else." Thoughtful, but without hesitation. Zavala is sure to meet his eyes, to hold Saladin's scrutinous gaze.

The last of the Iron Lords nods. His arm comes around Zavala's back again, squeezing once before releasing. He allows himself to feel that bittersweet feeling, let it honey the gravel in his voice. "Then make it so."

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#destiny fanfiction #commander zavala #lord shaxx #ikora rey #lord saladin #suraya hawthorne #holiday carols #aka those really annoying songs that won't get out of your head #apparently the frames *love* them #shaxx hating saladin hatting shaxx (but not really)#destinydawningfanfic

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lockdownuk · 4 years ago

Text

Lockdown Diary Part 1

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.

Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online.

Day 1: Last night Boris called it, today we’re doing it. I had started working from home (wfh) yesterday as had most people at my work (RCI)..last week I had been preparing laptops as fast as poss for everyone. Even just today, the idea of going into work seems alien and dangerous. Now lockdown (ld) means that it would soon be illegal to do so unless utterly necessary.

Online, FaceBook (fb) especially, is awash with reaction…a lot of calling out people who are out and about in greater numbers than 2, which is against ld rules.

Day 2: Just trying to let work occupy my thoughts and time which is easy enough ‘cos everyone I support (IT engineer) is new to wfh and is having teething problems with all the new laptops. Meanwhile, I keep abreast of comings and goings online…actually socially interacting more than I might otherwise, weirdly

Day 3: Highlight of the day is an online quiz organised by a chap called Jay Flynn on fb…a bunch of us took it as individuals while chatting on Messenger while Jay streamed quiz over fb live and YouTube. It was a good crack and I had two cans of Coors Light which got me pissed!

Day 4: Work is still mad - so many people with IT issues wfh…it’s challenging trying resolve all these probelms remotely but I am rising to it. I actually enjoy it. It satisfies my want for problem-solving.

The ld is in full swing but it’s very early days. The news is dominated, obviously, by Covid-19 and the ever changing stats of infections and deaths. Today, for example, the USA took over, from China, as the country with the most infections. I know there will be an end to all this and I am determined to be there, going out, getting pissed down the pub, gigging, shaking hands with my mates, hugging anyone and everyone who’ll let me - it’ll be a proper party. But I am filled with a dread that it’s going to be a fucking long time coming.

This evening was spent virtually with Foggy, Ham and Andy P…doing a quiz - a rehearsal for Foggy in the hope of doing one to a wider audience next week. It was good fun and great to have a few beers chatting with everyone, Later I video called Fog and we drank ‘til gone midnight, putting the world to rights. I was well pissed.

Day 5: First non-work day of the ld. Housework, daily walk, out for supplies (drop a script order off…queuing outside boots for 15 minues!, bread, baccy and booze). This evening, I’m listening to the next album in NME list of 1985 albums I’m working through - Grace Jones Slave to the Rhythm…fucking pain in the arse ‘cos it’s not on Spotify so I am searching for each song, in order, on YouTube. Plus eating and drinking, of course. Quick video chat with karen and Grace, Dan in the background. I wanted a tin of kidney beans for chilli but Karen hasn’t got one ffs. Burger it is. They are all playing scrabble - I’d love to join in…

Day 6: A quiet day…housework, cooking, daily walk. Highlight was a half hour chinwag with dad who, as I would expect, despite his 84 years, is coping and doing just fine. Most other people with a dad that age would have, on top of their own concerns, something more to worry about during this crisis….for me, it feels like I’ve got someone to turn to, should I need to.

Day 7: Work is starting to feel more routine but it’s a long way off being in the office, which is never routine anyway. That may seem surprising since I do IT support but it’s a varied role, especially at the modern dinosaur of an organisation that is RCI. I try to be as disciplined as possible but I miss not dressing for work, not driving to work, not needing to actually prepare lunch (until lunchtime). I don’t actually need to shower every morning. I don’t think I have to ordinarily but do because I’m mixing with others in the office. I certainly don;t need to now. I only mix with me, so showering becomes a chore but I’m doing it every other morning in the name of the aforementioned discipline. I am worried how long RCI can keep going before laying staff off. I dread being out of work full stop, let alone during this ld, or even thereafter. I think the economies of the world will need time to recover so finding work will be tough à la 2008. I think, if lay-offs were to occur, I’d be in real danger. Last in first out and all that. But, I’ll cross that bridge if and when I come to it.

Day 8: At work there was a large online meeting whereby the MD told us that RCI are going to furlough some staff. The UK, and Ireland staff will be consulted this coming Thursday and Friday (it’s Tuesday today). I shall be reading up on what the furlough arrangements are in the UK due to Covid-19. I know the government have set aside some money, I need to know what I might get paid and how to claim it. In the past, when I’ve been out of work, I’ve been entitled to jack shit other than JSA, This time around, should I be laid off as I expect, I might not have to eat into my savings, fingers crossed. Meanwhile, I have decided to knock up another blog with a photo of myself each day of the ld (from now on) - it’s a sister to this diary.

Day 9: Actually typing this on day 10. Yesterday was a strange day as I contemplate being furloughed (hope for the best, expect the worst)…I’d be paid 80% of my wage according to what the government have said to assist in the Covid-19 crisis…so, were that to be true, I’d be OK money-wise, although still earning way less than I want to prepared for retirement (I am currently still waiting for feedback on a pay increase request I put in at work last year!) I’m more worried about how I would fill my day if I wasn’t working. So, that being said, I flopped and moped about all yesterday evening after my daily walk and, without achieving much at all, didn’t find time to write this entry on the right day…so maybe I can fill my days without much effort!

Day 10: I was furloughed today, starting 5pm tomorrow (Friday 3rd April) and it’s fucked me off. I know it’s not personal but, actually, do I? They’re cutting back the Kettering Desktop team by one, redacted It seems obvious to do this by the ‘last in, first out’ maxim but what about money? others are on more than me (redacted). What about offering it voluntarily - others might go for 80% pay for fuck all - others have family at home to occupy the day (redacted) . A little bit of me thinks it might be preferable furlough me (redacted) …others seems to be a favourite and that annoys me. It annoys me because I think I shoot myself in the foot too often. I’m too vocal about some of the (redacted) decisions and practices at work, plus other reasons that I know but can’t be bothered to type. But, my point, is I don’t play the politically correct, corporate game and therefore forget to look out for my own best interests. FUCK.

So, as of tomorrrow evening, I’ve no work to do. The challenge will be to find a way to occupy my day. I’ve already registered to volunteer for the NHS during the ld…let’s see what becomes of that. And I’ve signed up for web development course. I’m going to get fucking pissed this w/e, starting early tomorrow evening.

Day 11: It’s day 12 as I am writing this entry…that might tell any reader, and remind me, that I did as I promised and got pretty drunk. I spent the day geting my work affairs in order i.e. clearing down support tickets assigned to me. I did a good job, nothing left to handover to the remaining team (Jim, Cristina and Mark) and onky one ticket put into the assigned pool. Some nice converstaions were had with associates, many of whom are, too, being furloughed. Nice words were said and Jim and Mark both were supportive in conversations and messages - they both know I don’t wnat this and, I think, they are both relieved it’s not happening to them. 5 pm arrives and I shutdown my work laptop for the last time for at least 12 weeks. After my daily walk, I video chat with Karen, crack open a beer, make Chinese chicken curry (fucking loads, fucking tasty), finish watching The National Theatre stream of One Man, Two Guvnors (really good, see twoinchreview) and the caught up with, and talked bollocks with Andy, Marc and Ham - we tried getting Rog in on it, no dice. I then watched The Heat (I fucking love that film), ate some more, smoked several single-skinners, drank, in total, three cans, seven bottles. I went to bed shortly after 4am. I felt resigned to my furlough and pleasantly wasted.

Day 12: A subdued day…didn’t wake until gone 1:30pm. Jaded but not really suffering. Mooched about, social media, listening to music, watching telly, farting about on the iPad. My daily walk, over the last fews days, has taken a twist…I am trying to run parts of it. Mainly short distances, 80-100m (I estimate) three, maybe four times. It’s fucking knackering me out. I used to run everywhere when I was a teen. Attempting to run now just makes me feel fucking old. Well, I am, so that’s about right.

Day 13: Another day like yesterday except I got up at 10:30 and didn’t feel jaded. The subdued feeling comes from the realsiation that the ld isn’t being treated as seriously as it should be across the board. The news and even posts by locals on FB (Oundle chatter group) suggest groups still meeting up. The weather this w/e has been a factor - 17°c today. I think a total ld will be enforced soon and that would fuck me off. My daily walk is pretty essential for me nowadays not least for the ‘good for your soul’ benefits that dad has always mentioned. Even today’s walk saw a car parked at the gates to the field on the way to Ashton and people on a blanket soaking up the sun, dogs off their leads and people (looked like a family) playing footy on South Road field. Individually they are not presenting any danger, what with the fact they are either living together or far away from others. But they are flaunting the rules and the more that happens the less likely they’ll carry on getting away with it, which will mean total ld for all! I finished the 50 1985 albums today. It mostly confirms to me that I only listened to two albums released that year (Kate Bush, The Waterboys) any other vinyl I spun would have already been in my collection pre-85.

The sausage casserole I made for tea was fucking lush - 4 birdeye chillies. I saw and spoke with Dan and Grace this morning, they were just coming back from a walk. I am pleased to fuck they are together and sorted out the issues they had earlier this year.

Day 14: My first day proper of furlough. Finished my two inch review of the NME 50 albums. Long chat with Rita, quick one with dad. Messaged Sam about Romiley’s present - she’s 10 on the 9th April (Thursday) - ordered some Lego thing from Amazon. Turned the car engine over (reminded myself the driver-side wing mirror is fucked) and moved it to another spot in the Co-op car park - bumped into Matt T. He’s struggling - no work coming in and he can’t claim any of the money on offer ‘cos he’s not being totally honest about his circumstances - made me realise I’m not that bad off…..but I feel depressed about it all, especially with the news that Boris has gone into intensive care.

Day 15: I began a diploma (?) course on web design with Shaw Academy (it was free). They have actual classes (which are recorded) which you schedule yourself. The first one was, I have to say, really interesting - I look forward to continuing. On my walk today, I saw a car parked at the gate to the field at the bottom of Riverside Close; it was branded with Cunninghams Estate Agent with a 01536 number. I am pretty sure I saw the driver walking her dog (unleashed) on the field. I took a photo and rang the number. Yes, I ratted the culprit out…fucking annoys me that I had to. Better than reporting to the police, all round. Hopefully her work will put a stop to her doing it and, the more people that adhere to the rules without the police getting wind of infractions, the more likely we’ll be able to continue to exercise away from home.

Day16: More online learning including checking out other sites (pluralsight) for more learning opportunities. Coded my first web page, basic but mine, in HTML and CSS. A few beers & smokes and watching White Boy Rick in the evening, interspersed with the usual social media / messaging shit, incuding this entry, of course!

Day 17: Typing this on Day 18. After a few beers last night while chatting with Fog (twice - the first chat ended with him ‘having’ to go to bed. Later, I noticed he was commenting on FB, so I video called him…round two of chatting!). I got quite fucking pissed. Bed around 4am.

Day18: Up at 1pm. Long walk today, 7 km. Anything over 40 minutes, I’ve realised, results in a hypo.

Day19: Well, having gone to bed at gone 5am I got up at nearly 1pm feeling far better than I should have. Breakfast followed by a walk, spoke with Karen (mowing her front lawn) and Dan. He and Grace have split up which is sad news but he seems OK. Went shopping (milk and sweets) and ended up with a shit load of booze, the post of which on FB was quite amusing. Homemade burgers for tea (they’re in the fridge as I type) - gonna try and make Five Guys…

Day20: The Five Guys burger attempt didn’t go as well as I wanted. I think less than 5% fat mince just doesn’t bind that well. However, I managed to get something resembling a burger into the bun and, with cheese, hot sauce and jalapeños, it was tasty enough. More of the same when I finish typing this entry. Strange Easter Day today, as I knew it would be. The best thing I saw today was a video Tom posted on FB of him and Molly doing a mashup of Starsailor and George Michael - Tom on guitar singing the former, Molly singing the latter. It was fucking fantatstic.

Day 21: Easter Monday. Surreal…it’s feeling very surreal now, this lockdown.

Two things that bother me right now:

i) The political point scoring on FB. I get it, I really do…people like to bring up ‘obvious’ failings in the party’s mistakes. For example, Marc posting comparisons between UK and Germany’s figures of cases and deaths due to Covid-19. I doesn’t make impressive reading for the government and it should be held accountable. But not fucking now!

ii) Will they introduce rotational furloughing at RCI? It’s only been a week, 11 to go. And, it bothers me that I was furloughed rather than Mark. Pathetic of me, I know! But, should it last the 12 week stretch, I want to go back to work and let someone else have the chance to have fuck all to do all day! That being said, I’m still learning web design through Shaw Academy. Even today, bank holiday, I revised Lesson 2.

Day22: Nice catchup with Dad today - he and Rita seem to be more than OK with lockdown. I actually cannot wait until we can meet up at The Farmers again!

Day 23: While I had a Corvee engineer come to the house today to do a gas safety check (I waited upstairs while he was here, self-isolation and all that), and had the fourth online web design lesson, had a trip to Boots to pick up insulin, got milk from Tesco’s, saw American Rachel and had a chat (while we both queued to get into Tesco’s) and had a very nice walk along a different route from the norm, in the pleasant sunshine and watched Contagion on Netflix - all today - I AM STILL BORED AS FUCK!

Day 24: I had plans for today - revise the last two lessons of Shaw Academy’s web design course, investigate a ethical hacking course, do some washing, clean upstairs (or at least the bathroom) plus all the usual stuff. Then, as a reward, have some beers. Well, guess what. I am not having beers this evening. I managed the laundry. Plus I manged to subtitle my YouTube perfect snabby video (something I have been meaning to do for a while, but, come on!) It took me fucking ages. But it is funny! So, a fucking far from fruitful day. Plus the government announced at least 3 more weeks of lockdown. There’ll be loads more, I reckon. Tomorrow…I promise I’ll be better tomorrow…

Day 25: I did do better! Firstly the Corveee man fucked the boiler which I only noticed late yesterday but still managed to get sorted today. I did some excellent revision and learning of HTML (tags) and CSS. I cleaned the bathroom and hall. And I discovered TikTok (fucking excellent dancing and funny vids) plus discovered a new FaceBook word game (Sam sent me an invite) called WordBlitz and I am pretty good. Having beers now (nearly 11pm).

Day 26: Today I found myself calling 111. I had a pain in my side last night, I thought it might be constipation! That not being the case (!), today I went to 111.nhs.uk and, following their questions, it recommended I seek out a GP straightaway. Once I let the website know that is not possible, it directed me to visit walk in centres. I spoke with Karen thereafter - for advice about whether it’s a good idea to enter such an establishment - I really don’t want to increase me chances of catching the Covid-19 virus. Karen recommended ringing 111 since the website does not take into account my diabetes (so bloody sensible a suggestion!)

After ringing and answering many questions, the lady said she’d get an OOHS GP to call. The doctor called soon after and it seems most likely I have a grumbling appendix (chronic appendicitis) and to ring again (well, 999) if the pain becomes unbearable.

I now have a bag at the ready for hospital which I really hope I don’t have to use. Today, I have, therefore, done fuck all - not even a walk - but I am having a beer now (midnight) and shall attempt to sleep as well as possible and hope this pain subsides naturally…

It occurs to me that I turn to Karen when things become flumoxing - my excuse, this time, is she works at the surgery but that was mere convenience.

Day 27: My ‘appendicitis pain was the same when I woke up (10:20) but no worse. I managed to change bed clothes and clean my bedroom but didn’t risk a walk (in case something drastic happens when I’m in a fucking field).

People’s responses and questions online have been heartening (Rachel Harris, Susie Grange, Bethan, Jo, Tracey Weber, Debbie De Prisco and, not least Dan). As the day progresses, I feel better but not right. I spoke with Dad about it and, as I told him, I shall ring Oundle GP tomorrow. Meanwhile, I did Sam Clew’s FB Live quiz, which was good, and am now having a beer or two.

Day 28: The pain in my side has definitley diminished. I called the Oundle surgery today to talk about what treatment I should have for ‘grumbling appendicitis’. The reseptionist organised a call back from a GP - Dr. Cash. Basically, he said he didn’t believe the condition existed, that acute appendicitis doesn’t happen after the age of 35, and ‘his gut felling’ is it will all just clear up.

I shall seek a more sensible diagnosis after lockdown and hope it doesn’t flare up again before then.

Day 29: I sent an email to the team at work today (Jim, Mark, Cristina and Sueanne). I hadn’t heard from them and I wanted to check in and, also, make a point that I will be posing the ‘rotational furlough’ question to HR at some point. It was as I wrote the email that I realised it’s only been two weeks and two days of furlough, and that includes Easter! Seems so much fucking longer. Anyway, everyone replied and it was good to hear from them….Mark came off his bike and broke ribs and collarbone! Lesson 5 of the Web Design course with Shaw Academy. It’s becoming apparent that, if you don’t pay for the course ‘toolkit’ it’s all rather patchy! The instructor dives into lines of code (HTML, CSS and Java) with no explanation….I feel like I did on the ifrst lesson of further maths ate Stamford School! I shall soldier on and beef up the missing parts with W3Schools (a great website and learning aid for coding). Two quick points. I am no longer running any part of my daily walk; hurts too much. I am addicted to Wordblitz and TikTok. Day30: I am writing this on day 31, I just forgot yesterday! It was a non eventful day. I did watch Midnight Run (again!) and had a couple of midweek beers though.

#diary #tumblr diary #lockdown #covid19 #lockdownuk

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justm3h · 6 years ago

Photo

Plot - Triskaidekaphobia

Summary: Marco has lived many lives. Lives as a civilian, lives with the Marines, lives as a pirate and the smallest butterfly effect makes each adventure new. But each death has him waking up after eating the first fruit of his life.

Another chance, another life.

One more shot to make things right.

Characters: Marco the Phoenix, Monkey D. Garp, Bell-mere, Donquiote “Corazon” Rosicante, Coby, Gol D. Roger, Silvers Rayleigh, Shanks, Benn Beckman, Makino, Monkey D. Luffy, Edward Newgate, Thatch, Portgas D. Rouge, Portgas D. Ace, Sabo, Monkey D.Dragon, Buggy, Straw Hat Crew, Kureha, Nico Olvia, Marshall D. Teach, Trafalgar D. Water Law

Pairing: Rouge/Roger, slight Makino/Shanks but mostly Gen

1-8

The first life Marco lives is boring and normal. He passes peacefully, a respected but simple village doctor, flames flicker even as he’s eyes fall shut for the last time. Only for that not to be true, as he opens them once again to hands the size of a child and not an old man.

The second life he travels the South Blue. He wants to see what the sea has to offer him and he makes friends and learns so much. He dies this time by drowning, and decides he doesn’t like it very much.

The third time, he starts figuring things out. Each death has him wake up right after eating the worst tasting fruit of his life. He’s grown use to the blue flames that heal and the obsession with cinnamon but the healing is a gift enough.

Marco travels further, learning skills of a sailor. He enjoys navigating the most, for the stars are the only thing that seem to be consistent with every redo.

His third adventure ends, accidentally being eaten in the calm belt. Another mistake he swears to Never Make Again.

The fourth one comes and he realizes he needs to learn how to fight and joins the Marines.

He’s not very good at first, more often than not, he fumbles and fails and it stuck in a lower position for some time. He only hears later of the Summit War and even then it’s just boring news that doesn’t matter on the blues.

One drowning later and Marco becomes a Marine again on count 5. His ‘talent’ is noticed. He’s sent to the Grandline and trains with other fresh recruits. He is in awe as he catches sight of the admirals and of the legendary hero Garp. The Marines try to figure out what fruit he ate but have as much luck as he has in the past. He makes it as far as Captain before dying tragically protecting his men.

6 and 7 are much the same. Joins the Marines and is satisfied with the rank of Captain. He enjoys having the spunky Bell-mere under his tutelage til she is transferred and quit soon after. Marco enjoys seeing Rosicante grow from a brat he babysat to a fine Marine although still a walking disaster.

Marco always takes different posts and assignments, never wanting to have the confusion of knowing something he shouldn’t. It doesn’t stop him from befriending a few of the same people over and over again, but those are just some binds he’s not willing to let go.

But 5 to 7 are also where Marco really starts to notice something wrong with the world. He never noticed on the Blues, too isolated from the Grandline and the Red to pay much mind to it.

There was corruption, Marines taking bribes or turning a blind eye to the pleadings of the people who begged for help. The admirals were bias, unable to get pasted their own convictions to just help.

It caused Bell-mere to leave and Rosicante’s death.

It hurt.

8 seems to hurt the most. He was put under the care of Garp. He learned so much about the Vice Admiral, Garp yelled about his brat grandkids and Fists of Love were a daily occurrence. Regardless of his violence, Garp was what the Marines should have been. Heroes. Marco could see it in the boy and his friend that Garp adopted, made all too clear when the pink haired boy jumped in front of a cannon.

He and Bogard would watch from a distance as the two chore boys trained. Fought for the right to be Marines. Bogard taught Helmeppo, the tall blond better with blades, while Marco taught Coby the basics of hand to hand til Garp took over their training.

Marco always made sure to patch the young men up at the end of the day, a doctors work never done, even after they picked a fight with Garp’s grandson.

“Dumb Brats,” he joking at Garp as he checks over Coby and Helmeppo after their fight.

Marco got a good look at Garp’s grandson, Monkey D. Luffy. He was much like his grandfather, even as they both fell asleep in the middle of their own fight.

But Marco hasn’t seen pirates like these since Roger, despite the Marine propaganda, his cabin boy Shanks, or Whitebeard. Considering the rookie pirate had Red-Haired Shanks’ old straw hat…. Who if all the praises Coby said were true, saved him and a whole town, was more hero than a pirate had the right to be.

Monkey D. Luffy who dreamed of being King of the Pirates. Well, Marco could admit to himself he wouldn’t mind seeing the boy become the second King.

Even if the crew couldn’t handle a few cannonballs from Garp at the moment.

Then Marineford. The stories he had heard in passing before, if he lived long enough to hear them, paled in comparison to the actual event.

It was a massacre. Garp fell and so did his grandson. Whitebeard died on his feet seeing his adopted son and blood son of Gol D. Roger perish under the executioner’s blade. And there impaled on a molten fist was Coby, the boy Garp hoped would continue his legacy.

Marco died, a screech echoing over the battlefield as he flew to attack the lava man, with ice and light ripping through his body.

9 and 1st Time Pirate

9 he wakes to wings not hands and realizes just exactly what the fruit did to him.

Marco does not join the Marines this time, preferring to not think about all the blood and death he still had nightmares about.

This time, he flies and travels. The seas no longer limit him and stars will always be his guide. He doesn’t tire but can just fly for what seems like forever.

The blond witnesses Gol D. Roger’s death, spotting the would be faces of many soon to be known names. It’s curious but Red Hair asks if he wants to join his crew.

“Why?”

“You look interesting!”

Needing something new and knowing full well what kind of pirate the young man is from endless rants from Garp, Marco accepts. Not like he has anything better to do.

It’s maybe the worst decision he’s ever made as the seemingly endless parties usually leave it up to him to keep them on course, unable to get drunk without the help of seastone.

He’s grateful when Benn joins, if not just to keep Shanks somewhat in line for a pirate. There are questions about his knowledge of the Marines and he makes no point to hide that he ‘quit’.

“Being a pirate suit you more?”

“Seems so Cap.”

If more pirates were like Red Hair, he ponders, watching the man make a fool of himself for a pretty green haired girl, then there wouldn’t been so many issues in the world.

Marco meets a young Monkey D. Luffy, still as mischievous as before, and laughs at the reaction Shanks has when he learns the kid he’s taken a shine to is related to Garp.

“He’s got his Grandfather’s smile.”

“I’m concerned how you know that, Marc.”

It goes much like canon, Luffy is kidnapped and is taken to the middle of the bay and Marco is actually the one who flys Shanks out there.

Marco has a first hand experience of watching Shanks lose his arm. He apologizes for not being faster but Shanks just smiles.

“He’s worth it.”

Shanks becomes Emperor, Marco and Benn both arguably first mate but Marco gets his first bounty poster.

“The Phoenix?”

“Pretty on the nose with that one.”

They have many clashes, with pirates and other Marines alike. Marco finds he enjoys the meetings with the man called Whitebeard the most. At worst, they have a fight but usually they are all too hungover by the time it gets to that.

The morning after a rare party between Shanks and Whitebeard, the air was full of the smell of breakfast and hint of something else. It made Marco pause his berated tairaid against Shanks’ stupidity and abruptly walks away. He followed the smell, leading him to the Moby Dicks kitchen where a man in a chefs suit was elbow deep in kneading bread. But the smell. He breathed it in barely noticing Shanks and Benn following.

The chef looks up and smiles.

“Hey! You’re on Shanks crew, right? I’m Thatch, head chef and 3rd commander! Nice to meet you… hey hello? You in there?”

Thatch looks confused as he holds up the cinnamon and Marco’s eyes follow. Left, right, up, down. Thatch eventually hands Marco a fresh roll and he literally coos with joy.

Shanks LOOSES it. Marco screeches, launching at Shanks with a kick. They run out of the kitchen and Thatch is just so confused and Benn is amused.

The Red Force is then on always stocked with Cinnamon and Thatch always gifts Marco with new cinnamon treats to try, a personal challenge of his.

Marineford comes again, Shanks having tried to prevent it but failed. It was hard to hear that Thatch had been killed but Marco keeps focused as they fight Kaido to make it in time to do anything.

By the time they arrive, it’s much the same nightmare as before. Garp survives but both his grandchildren have fallen, Whitebeard stands dead once again with much of his children at his feet. Shanks was able to save Coby, the boy just inches from having a face full of magma. The Marines scream victory but Marco can only feel hollow.

He’s been on both sides of that battlefield now and neither feel like a victory.

The Red Hair pirates help with gathering the dead, Marco keeping watch on everything as much as he can. Garp looks at him with such mistrust it hurts more than anything.

He offers his condolences, something he couldn’t offer a corpse previously. Garp is somber but accepts. The true sadness is when he gives Shanks the straw hat telling him that Luffy would have wanted him to have it.

It’s not til after the funerals that Marco sits with Shanks and Benn. He’s got a sea stone ring on as he drinks and drinks.

He tells them the truth. He’s old and seen this before and nothing changes. Death seems to be the only result.

They talk to him about the Marines, about the first time, about everything.

“I see these things and don’t know how to fix them. All the paths seem to lead to that blasted war.”

Benn looks at him, “Have you really tried?”

Marco stares into his drink. Has he? He’s taken different roads but never really did much to change things did he?

The phoenix finds new determined and confidence in the faith that both of them have in him to fix things. They won’t remember him, no one does, but they were proud to call him nakama for all these years.

“If you ever need us, find us again, tell us something that only we would know and a bottle of booze. We’ll drink together again.” Shanks tells him before stabbing Marco through the heart.

10 and the Guardian

10 and Marco awakes on a mission. He grows just old enough to be accepted as a cabin boy and flies. Flies far, far away from his home to the Grand line. Where he find the Roger pirates, a budding crew well on their way to greatness. He learns from the best, gaining first hand experience on why the Pirate King was so formidable.

Haki is a well worth nightmare to learn from two of its greatest users. Even if it meant that he had to babysit a younger and somehow even more reckless Shanks and fellow cabin boy Buggy.

Marco watches with a whole new level of sadness at Roger’s passing. Shanks again asks for him to join his crew but Marco declines stating that he’s going to travel for a bit and figure out where life takes him.

Where it ends up taking him, is more preset than he would have Shanks believe. He follows Garp to a small island in the South blue where he see Rouge give birth to the little boy named Ace.

Garp confronts the man but Marco has kept his powers a secret from the Marines this time, a fall back for if things got dicey. He follows Garp, bird shaped so know no one is the wiser.

He spends years watching over the boy. Raising him in ways that Garp couldn’t. He’s there for when Garp brings Luffy to the town for Makino to care for. He watches over these boys that are so, so important.

And he meets Shanks again when the Red Hair Pirates come to town.

Marco lets Shanks meet Luffy and pulls him aside to take a walk. They walk to the forest where Shanks feels eyes watching. Marco remains calm and jovial even as two young boys attack him with metal pipes.

He easily defeats the two and leaves Shanks stunned for once. He watches as both brats yell at Marco for beating them again as Marco scolds them right back for their poor technique.

The tall blond introduces the two brats as Ace and Sabo, his charges shared under Garp.

“Garp?! That old fart?!”

“Hey! Don’t you call gramps an old fart, dye job!”

“What did you just call me brat?!”

Shanks and Ace bicker with each other as Marco and Sabo watch amused.

Shanks spends most of the walk back grumbling about pain in the ass kids.

“He takes after Roger but I see more of Rouge in him.”

“Ugh he’s just as stubborn as the Cap.. tain.” Shanks pauses… and stares at Marco then back at the forest and the back at Marco. “He- That’s?!”

“You have to swear never to speak of this Shanks… Garp and I have protected him for this long. I would hate to think we failed because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.”

“Never. For the Captain and Rouge’s son never…. tell me more about him Marco.”

“Let’s go talk over drinks.”

Marco still enjoys getting a shocked face out of Shanks.

For the whole year he’s in the East Blue, he splits his time between Luffy and the two boys on the mountain.

Shanks shares stories of his time as a cabin boy on Roger’s crew, which causes Ace to get mad but then he’s pacified when hearing other tales of his mother.

Ace doesn’t hate his father quite as much this time but still has enough of a stigma to still be angry with him.

But canon has a way of happening and Shanks once again loses an arm for Luffy. Marco watches with sadness knowing his friend will be sailing from the Blue permanently. He bids them a safe journey and for Benn to keep his sanity. Shanks just laugh and they share a hug.

Garp returns, furious that Marco lets his brat grandson be influenced by that damn Red Hair. Marco just shrugs, knowing full well if Garp meant it he would have come back sooner. News of Red Hair being in the East Blue wasn’t hard to find, Marco could clearly remember Garp complaining about it while he was in the Marines. The Phoenix does inform Garp that Shanks knows about Ace and the grandfather sighs.

“He’s got his mother’s freckles as clear as day.”

“Suits him.”

“Aye.”

Luffy befriends the boys who become brothers then canon canon canon. Marco can only do so much good saving Ace and Dudan, and then going to search for Sabo. He finds the boy on a ship in a coma in the hands of…

“Ah, hello Dragon.”

The two talk, Marco explaining who the boy is and his… situation. Marco holds off on moving the boy till he wakes, his injuries far too severe to move him right away.

So Dragon and Marco talk. Marco is kind enough to share stories of Luffy growing up, something the father smiles at. It’s a peace offering.

Sabo awakens with amnesia. He reacts poorly to going home but seems to take pause at the mention of brothers.

“Ace? Luffy?”

“Yes. Those are their names.”

“I have brothers.”

Marco and Sabo go back home, with Dragon leaving Marco with his den den number in case there’s something Garp can’t handle. Ace and Luffy barely let Sabo out of their sight for days but help the boy relearn things and heal.

Years pass and both Ace and Sabo are the age to set sail. Marco stays with Luffy as they watch the boy’s two older brother sail away together. Marco tells them to watch each others backs and keep their wits.

“More than anything stay safe, stay alive.”

“You worry too much Marc, we’ll be fine.“

"I’ll keep him out of trouble Marco.”

“Hey!“

There Marco remains hearing about the two’s adventures with brief updates via the mail. He’s pleased to see both have taken up with Whitebeard. The old man would keep the boys safe.

The day Luffy sets out, Marco goes with him. Luffy pouts but he’s pleased that he’ll have some of his family with him. Marco flies high above enjoying the sun and completely misses the whirlpool until it’s too late. He can only watch as Luffy bobs in the water stuck in a barrel.

Just great.

East Blue basically happens with a plus one Marco. He tries to stay out of the way as much as possible, he’s not Luffy’s crew, these aren’t his fights but seeing all these familiar faces is both nice and painful.

He watches Coby’s beginning and the strength he got from Luffy plus how much Helmeppo changed.

Seeing Buggy, Roger’s other cabin boy, again was interesting.

"Buggy!”

“Oh damn, a flashy idiot from the past.”

“You know this clown?!”

“We were part of the same crew.”

“Did he have the nose then too?”

“ah… ”

“HOW DARE YOU?!”

They travel from one island to the next, picking up a first mate, navigator, and then a sharpshooter. Marco was sad to hear about Usopp’s mother passing, he hadn’t been aware of her death while still traveling with Shanks and as a doctor, it was probably something he could have prevented.

Marco left the Baratie early, flying after Nami with the other boat following his lead.

Marco pats Luffy on the head before he goes, “Stay safe.”

“Yosh~!” He nods at Hawkeye and flys off.

Learning exactly how Bell-mere passed was hard. She died like a hero protecting her girls and he could respect that after now raising so many kids, so many times, himself.

Still he honors Luffy’s claim of dibs but does destroy the Marine ships nearby, earning his bounty to raise once again.

Lougetown was interesting. He has no wish to see the site where Roger died, he’s seen it too many times as is and walks towards a familiar presence on the other side of town. He finds Dragon in a hole in the wall pub and they have drinks.

Small talk is exchanged and the leader of the revolutionary army has some good gossip… and some bad.

“Ace and Sabo have been seen leaving the new world for paradise… its said they are tracking someone named Teach…”

“Damn…”

Their talk is cut short when the wind picks up from a storm rolling in… and a person barges in yelling about an execution in the square.

“Looks like your son found trouble again. Does he get that from you or his mother?”

“No comment.”

Marco rushes ahead, allowing Dragon to slip away into the shadows. He doesn’t do much but does strike some more fear of god into Buggy for messing with his chick.

“I FORGOT HOW PROTECTIVE YOU GET JEEZ.”

They escape with a shared nod between Dragon and Marco.

When they start sharing their dreams on the way up reverse mountain, Marco has a vague one to share “To prevent the future.”

Que the beginning of the Alabasta arc. Past knowledge has always been limited when it comes to Luffy’s journey. It was filled with misinformation and other hole so he was honestly not expecting for there to be a GIANT WHALE. Oh, hi Crocus.

“You know this flower?”

“Reluctantly, yoi.”

“Brat!”

“My name is Crocus, the lighthouse keeper of Twin Capes. I’m 71 years old, a Gemini and type AB blood.”

“ YOU’RE A CAPRICORN YOI.”

They sail away from the capes, experiencing the strange weather of the Grandline for the first time. “It feels like coming home.” The Blues no longer felt quite the home, like the Grandline.

They arrive at Whiskey Peak and Marco is instantly suspicious. He joins the drinking with merry joy. They could try to get him drunk all they wanted but even with a seastone ring, he’s partied with Roger, Shanks and Whitebeard. This was nothing.

He fake passes out with Nami and Zoro, both having caught on to the plot.

Baroque Works reveals themselves and Marco fights the Millions. They are weak even by Grandline standards but their numbers prove to be the most annoying.

As Vivi explains what’s happening to her country and Mr.0 being Crocodile things are starting to become clear on how the Navy originally covered the whole mess up.

Little Garden is basically identical expect Marco is with Sanji as most of this goes down. So he’s not involved with any of it.

When Nami comes down sick, Marco tries to cure her but is unfamiliar with her illness. His memory reminds him of a long since wiped out Disease that it could be but he doesn’t have the ingredients. His flames help keep her fever down but are unable to do much else.

When Marco isn’t looking after Nami, he’s taken over navigation getting them safely to Drum… Mostly, til this hippo gets on deck. Marco has the sick satisfaction of seeing Luffy send the little gremlin flying for eating a chunk of Merry.

Marco would fly Nami all the way to the top but its too snowy and windy for him to make the flight safely with a passenger, especially one as sick as she was. He joins Luffy and Sanji in carrying her up to the top, the cold not really an issue. Luffy tries to fight him on it but Marco hits him on the head with his own Fist of Love.

“She’s Nakama, Luffy. I’m going, yoi.”

“…Fine.”

Marco is the one to carry Sanji to the top while Luffy still has Nami. He’s exhausted but awake when Chopper finds them by the cliff. He heals naturally, bundled up in a blanket by a fire. He hears Dr. Kureha’s story about Chopper and the island, casually wondering if it would have been the same for him had he known from the beginning he could shift into a flaming bird.

Wapol’s arrival at the castle is unwelcomed in his opinion and short lasting at least. He, as always, stays out of the fight, but assists the Doctor in keeping Sanji out of it as well.

lucky:i like how he’s present but not changing things

Wapol is defeated giving Kureha and Marco a chance to chat. It turns into this and that, the will of D., and…

“Your eyes look old.”

“I bet.”

“How many cycles have you gone through, Phoenix?“

”…what?“

"Rebirths? Is that what you call it? Bah. no matter… not everyone can age as gracefully as me.”

She admits that she read about it once briefly in an old medical tomb. A previous user went insane on their 13th rebirth.

“I’m on my 10th, yoi. I don’t even know why it keeps happening.”

“Well you might want to figure that one out soon.”

“Any hints?”

“The book mention they went crazy and burned to ash, nothing about a cure.”

“Fantastic.”

They leave, both merry and somber. Marco won’t abandon Luffy to go hunt for a solution he may not even find.

So the Strawhat crew is finally almost to Alabasta. Mr.2 doesn’t get Marco’s face cause he was in bird form looking down on the shenanigans.

The dock and Marco feels the two familiar presences with a large smile. They meet back up with Ace first then Sabo who was spying as Ace got into trouble with Smoker.

Luffy introduces his two brothers much to the crews shock. Two Whitebeard pirates and they are Luffy’s brothers?! Marco laughs glad to have his boys back in one place if not just for a bit.

Ace and Sabo inform him they’ve been tracking a traitor named Teach. Marco actually pulls them both aside and tells them to be careful and don’t underestimate him.

“Do you know something Marc?”

“…I don’t like this. If he’s underhanded enough to stab a crewmate, who knows what else he has planned.”

“We’ll be careful.”

They travel across the sand and dunes, Marco switching between flight and walking. The heat is aggravating but manageable.

They seem to be on a wild goose chase when the rebel army moved and the rain base is also a dead end. They race to stop Crocodile, Luffy and he crew taking care of the fights while Marco flies the bomb into the middle of the sky to explode.

They rest and recover, Marco getting scolded for once for his recklessness, and finally set sail on Merry on to discover a new crew mate.

Marco isn’t sure what to think about Nico Robin. But she doesn’t seem to have any ill intentions so he accepts her easily enough.

When the log post points up to a sky island, Marco offers to fly up and set it so they can just continue on but Luffy pouts at him, rejecting his proposal to no one’s surprise.

Marco stays on the ship at Mock town, avoiding the encounter with Blackbeard and his crew.

The Skypedia arc goes as well as expected. Marco briefly explains the basics of Haki as Enel tries to strike them again and again with lightning.

Luffy wins, Marco comments on Enel’s poor luck of finding the one man in all the seas immune to his attacks.

Marco can tell something is wrong with Merry. At night he can hear a hammer tapping away. His worst fears are confirmed at Water 7.

The Phoenix can only watch as the crew learns of Merry broken keel and then of Luffy’s fight with Usopp. He can’t condone Usopp’s behavior but understands why the long nose felt so deeply about it.

Because he going to miss Merry too.

Things are only further complicated when Robin leaves along with the arrival of CP9. In his lives, Marco never encountered the Marines spies but had heard enough about them to realize they were bad news. With the reveal of the blueprints for Pluton, Marco is on high alert.

Marco follows the escaping CP9 with the captured Franky and Usopp, flying high above to not be seen.

The crew is all reunited as they approach Enies Lobby. It’s through his travels, Marco has learned a great deal of the corruption of the Marines, but hearing of the truth for the buster call on Robin’s home is sickening.

One by one, the Straw Hats beat CP9, Marco taking care of many of the minions running around the place.

As the buster call arrives, Marco destroys many of the Marine ships until Luffy defeats Lucci. The crew escapes on Merry, Marco watching from the sky’s over head. Even he can’t help but cry when they give her a funeral by fire.

Marco is elated seeing Garp, Coby and Helmeppo again. It’s on friendly terms for the first time since he had been a Marine and he missed their shenanigans. Luffy’s father is no surprise to him and Garp calls him out, Marco admitting he’s met him before.

“Damn annoying brat.”

They set sail on the new Thousand Sunny, Marco knocking away some of Garps cannonballs. Somethings never change.

Thriller Bark is interesting, Marco had heard of Moriah’s island ship but had never seen it and now was wishing he never had the chance. His shadow was never personal stolen from him, Haki keeping it safe from Moriah’s grubby hands.

Brook is about the closest thing Marco has ever seen to his own rebirth powers but quickly discovers that’s not quite right as he could only do it once and he never looped.

Still Marco can’t help but sympathize that the skeleton spent so long by himself.

For all their attempts, the one to finally take down Oars is Marco. He had waited and watched and seen them give it their all but the truth is clear. They can’t quite manage.

But he can.

Still the first time in a while he’s been able to let loose, becoming far too lax this loop to have any time to fight. But Oars falls and Marco feels refreshed.

He worries as Luffy takes so much damage from Moriah and the with the arrival of Kuma he has to step in. Marco is the one to take all of Luffy’s damage instead of Zoro. He knocked both Sanji and Zoro out to do it. Kuma looks at the fallen young men and then at Marco who just smiles.

“You’ve helped raise Dragon’s son into a fine man with a good crew.”

“He did that all by himself, yoi.”

Marco awakens to the worried looks of the Straw Hat crew, all wondering what happened.

He smiles and says it was nothing as both Sanji and Zoro look at him blankly, the area covered in his blood. They can be mad at him all they want, he’d make the same choice every time.

They sail to Sabody and Marco ditches the crew at Shakky’s bar, talking with her over drinks for a bit. He’s informed that Ace and Sabo were not as careful as he had hoped, they were captured and sent to Impel Down.

“Damn those brats. I warned them.”

“It gets worse Marco-kun. Ace has been scheduled for execution.”

“Of course he has.”

Marco is still at Shakky’s when the Straw Hats and Ray return.

“Welcome back Ray-san.”

“Ah Marco! Been a while!”

It’s revealed that Marco was also on Roger’s crew along with Ray much to the shock of everyone, including Luffy.

“How was I supposed to know?!”

“I’ve told you enough stories that you should have figured it out, yoi.”

The crew has to make a run for it as they are outclassed and outnumbered by gathering Marine forces. Between Kuma, Pacificas, and the Admiral Kizaru, they stood no chance.

Marco tries to protect the crew from Kuma but fails as he too is blasted away, unable to break out of the paw bubble.

Marco is sent to the Red Force to the shock of its crew. He’s fucking furious, fighting Kaido and flying as fast as he can directly to Marineford but arrives too late.

Now not only were Ace and Luffy dead, but Sabo as well. Marco collapses in grief, dying as magma melts him.

So ends loop 10, probably the harshest yet on his poor heart.

11 and Canon at last

Marco is at a loss for what to do at the start of 11. It feels like he’s missing something and can’t quite figure out what.

He travels to the not yet destroyed island of Ohara, still known for its vast knowledge and thousands of books.

Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to find a single one on helping him. Marco had located the medical book Kureha mentioned but it listed more of what happened should he fail than succeed. Doomed to ash, it seemed was his fate.

While there, he befriends a woman named Olivia, now knowing that this woman was Robin’s mother.

They talk only a handful of times before he departs, but he warns her that Ohara was already suspected to be researching the void century and to be careful.

He flies to Roger, the man still young and not yet a pirate. Roger humors Marco as he asks questions, generally amusing as the boy, still a boy, takes a small comfort in huddling into the man’s side.

“I don’t know how to save them, yoi. Every time I try, they die worse than the last.”

“Maybe it’s not about saving them, but giving them the best chance at survival?”

“What Ray said! I know I’d give up everything to save my crew!”

Rayleigh offers that if what he’s tried so far didn’t work, maybe he could try something else. Marco thinks and there’s one crew directly involved he hasn’t tried yet. He thanks the two and promises they’ll meet again someday and flys to find a young Whitebeard.

Marco joins Whitebeard’s crew, watches as it grows from a handful of men to multiple divisions. It’s hard to call him Pops, having been enemies and only sometimes allies, but Newgate is just as stubborn as Roger in many cases and looks so proud the first time the name slips from his mouth.

He never fights against Roger and his crew, usually brushing past the bewildered pirates with a bottle split between him and Ray, even if he has to deal with the ‘you’re too young for drinking’ comments.

Marco is promoted to first mate and is stunned as that spot has always been Diamond Jozu’s position. But the crew voted and they trust him and he’s their big brother. It makes Marco feel warm.

Marco is the one to recruit Thatch, young and bright not yet with his iconic hairstyle. But his cooking is just what they need on a growing crew and Thatch thrives.

Life continues, and things come to pass just like before. Roger dies and Marco sees first hand the decline of Whitebeard. The realization time is killing his old Captain’s rival is hard, not even his flames can heal old age.

He probably enjoys the fights with Shanks crew the most because he knows what they want, a good drink and maybe a fight. As Pops and Shanks yell and clash he walks up to Benn as offers him a drink and a safe place to watch from. He’ll take every chance he gets to enjoy the company of his friends before its slips away.

It’s been years but it also passed in a blink of an eye as reports of Jinbe fighting an upcoming rookie reaches the deck of the Moby Dick. Marco lets out a breath. Ace.

Marco never saw how Pops took one look at this brat and wanted him on his crew.

Never saw how Thatch’s eyes lit up as Ace snapped back sarcastically and knew he found something fun.

Never saw how the crew slowly adopted this angry child as their own and he gradually accepted them too.

Never saw how Luffy’s first bounty poster made his whole world and how it was all torn down when one of his own division kills Thatch.

Now Marco sees how the once happy family fell, all because of one devil fruit. They only later identify it as the Dark Dark fruit, and reading the far too short description of its powers, leaves Marco wondering what other secrets it had.

So we have canon, Ace goes after Teach despite Marco’s warnings and pleas. He does and Marco can only mentally prepare himself for the worst. Shanks distracts Kaido as they head to war. It’s planned a bit differently than he’s seen it in the past, but that’s what past knowledge gets you.

He goes to war like canon and the war ends like canon. Ace and Pops are dead but Luffy escaped with the help of the up and coming supernova, Trafalgar Law.

It feels like a fever dream as Marco stands in front of the two graves of Ace and Pops, shoulder to shoulder with Shanks once again.

“I could use a drink.”

“Get me a seastone ring and I’ll give you a story too.”

Marco and Shanks drink in quiet in the Captain’s room on the Red Force. It looks nearly identical to the times when he’s been on the crew, even has his wanted poster on the wall.

“Why am I on your walls, Shanks? Trying to get me to join more than just your crew?”

“You know, I put it up when I was smashed and never felt like taking it down. Seemed to belong there.”

“You don’t say.”

They drink and drink til bottles litter the floor. Marco is the only one still going, drinking and talking about everything. Shanks slowed when the bird mentioned his multiple pasts and stopped when Marco said they had once been nakama. It was sobering and he started comforting the man when the tears got to be too much.

“I got so close Shanks. I only have one try left, yoi.”

“Sounds like you got close this time Marc… just… whatever you do next time, do what you want. Make the changes that matter to you.”

Marco waits til Shanks is asleep before taking a nearby knife and plunging it into his heart.

Triskaidekaphobia

12 and one sane life left, Marco awakens on a mission. If this is going to be his last chance… then he’s going to make sure all the people he cares about survive.

He joins Edward Newgate as the very first member of his new crew, easily calling the older man ‘Pops’ and man decides he likes the sound of that.

There’s nothing he can do for Roger, his illness incurable even to his healing blue flames (it was something he tried very early on), but before the man’s death, they drink and Marco tells him all sorts of stories about a boy named Ace and his brothers. Roger laughs till he cries.

“You know something Phoenix, if I ever had a son, he would be named Ace.”

“It’s a good name.”

“It really is.”

He’s sure Roger realizes the truth in the end, telling the Phoenix to look after him and his mother for him.

It took some planing and a lot of luck but after Roger’s execution Marco was able to lead Garp to Rouge faster than previously. It took secret letters and a few other bribes but the Marine was able to smuggle the woman off Baterilla, taking her and the baby she carried to the East Blue where she would be safe.

Marco handled the business on Ohara personally, but when Olivia failed to listen to his warnings, he knocked her out. Shoving her at Saul and Robin, the group escaped the Buster Call but were still tracked by the government for years to come.

Years later, he arrives in the North Blue just in time to save his old ward from several gunshot wounds, helping him and the crying boy to the next town over.

He sends money and a letter to Bell-mere telling her she’s worth more to her girls alive than dead.

Marco clears Tom’s name before Spandam can kill him, Cutty Flam is still presumed dead after attempting to stop the sea train.

The Phoenix sends medicine to Usopp’s mother and prevents the death of Chopper’s mentor Hiluluk.

Marco easily befriends Ace, welcoming him into the new crew. He saves Thatch from death, but for all his careful planning Teach still escapes.

With the war still on, Marco plots and toils.

Upon Shanks’ visit he has both crews agree to be close at hand incase something goes wrong, which it will and does.

Completely cuts the whole confrontation between the two captains having seen it too many times.

“None of us have time for your squabbling, not our crews or Ace, yoi.”

Hearing of the execution, Marco sends out orders to all their allies and just one more.

He calls a number he had memorized long ago. It didn’t pick up the first ring or even the second but on the third…

“Hello Dragon.”

It’s all set as Marco stands on the Moby in the middle of Marineford. He’s done all he could in planning for this.

He watches as Luffy predictable falls from the sky, challenging anyone who dare stands in his way. He watches as the Marines pull out all their tricks to stop Whitebeard. He watches and waits and there.

Ace’s true weakness that he was always too kind, Marco thought as the fire man would not let the taunt go. He stops and that’s all the chance Akainu needed. The admiral attacks but Akainu’s fist impaled not Ace but him. There was a just hiss as flames tried to heal, gasps of Ace and Luffy watched in horror.

“Run, damn brats.”

Marco falls but it’s the first time he’s satisfied. He laughs and fixes a stare at Blackbeard.

“It will never be your age.”

The Phoenix lives and dies in cycles. It brings the dawn, the coming of a new time.

Marco hopes that with his death, it will be their age, Luffy’s or Ace’s or Sabo’s. That’s what he wishes to see. Them to live, them to be free.

Broken Hourglass

Marco awakens to what he assumes with be 13, where he will slowly go mad and lose all sense of reality till he turns to ash.

Instead he’s surrounded by crying faces.

“What?”

“You big feathered idiot!” Cried Thatch rubbing at his face, attempting to hide flowing tears. “What were you thinking?!”

“Wh-“

“I think we all know he wasn’t thinking anything good.” Answered Shanks appearing with a grin just in eyesight.

Marco took the moment to get good look at all the faces surrounding him. There were his boys, Luffy, Ace, and an all grown up Sabo just as much hugging each other as they were to clutching on to his sash.

There was a tall blond man in a pink hat crying next to a much smaller boy with pink hair, a man with a spotted hat giving them awkward comforting pats on the back.

Pops was over to the side with Garp and Rayleigh, the old guard watching over them.

Marco sat up, noticing no hole in his chest and that they were no longer on Marineford. “What happened, yoi?”

“You kinda exploded. Sent Akainu flying back and the battle almost continued if it wasn’t for pinky here. We thought you were dead till the ashes came together and there you were Marc, bird form and all.”

Marco gulped looking at Shanks. “M-Marc?”

“Yeah. We all remember. Some of it? Most of it? Ehhh how did you ever keep it all straight???”

Marco laughs and laughs. Because no one died and that mattered more than anything.

Epilogue

Bell-mare remembers and sees the note and is absolutely gonna punch him when she gets the chance.

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rebelsofshield · 5 years ago

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Panels Far, Far Away: A Week in Star Wars Comics 11/13-11/27/19

It’s certainly unfair for Lucasfilm to pick my first semester of grad school to start supplying us with more Star Wars content than at any other point in recorded history. Jerk move on their part. Anyways, as a result, here are three (!) weeks worth of Star Wars comics review in which: Marvel’s ongoing ends its seventy five issue run, Doctor Aphra gets her groove back, and Chewbacca knocks some heads. Hopefully I can be quicker about this in the future!

11/13/19

Star Wars #74 written by Greg Pak and art by Phil Noto

In its seventh chapter, “Rebels and Rogues” hurtles towards conclusion. The result may just be the strongest installment of an arc that has been chockfull of great ideas, but often struggled on just how to tell its sometimes overly scattered story. With the different teams now in open communication with one another and each fighting for their lives in desperate situations, writer Greg Pak’s take on the galaxy far, far away has never felt more a live and energetic.

We hop between narratives with surprising ease and elegance and the flow of the story is easy to follow, high energy, and positively fun. Han, Leia, and Dar Champion are flying for their lives in a defenseless ship against an Imperial star destroyer, Luke and Warba are in route to the planet’s rebels but with an Imperial patrol of Stormtroopers riding velociraptors right on their tale, and Threepio and Chewbacca are right in the center of a growing conflict between the rock people of K43 and Darth Vader himself.

Threepio’s arc here still remains the most fascinating stuff in “Rebels and Rogues.” For the first time in a long time, old goldenrod feels like he has an emotional story all his own and it culminates in a moment of self-sacrifice that capitalizes off all the themes of sentience and personhood that this surprisingly delightful subplot has been playing with since day one.

The promised Chewbacca/Darth Vader showdown on the cover doesn’t occur until the comics final pages but it sets up what should be a killer finale. Noto draws a suitably visceral encounter and no other panel in this creative team’s legacy will likely spark as much joy as Chewie spiking a boulder off of the Sith Lord’s ebony helmet.

Score: A-

Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order: Dark Temple #4 written by Matthew Rosenberg and art by Paolo Villanelli

At the time of this writing, I’ve actually finished playing Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order. The first single player Star Wars game in over a decade provides a very fun and rewarding experience that is populated with some truly outstanding characters. The game also shows that its tie-in comic, Dark Temple is surprisingly more consequential than one might have originally thought. Sure, Cere and Eno Cordova were known characters in the game from the start, but Dark Temple sees the two encountering numerous elements from Fallen Order for the first time.

Even outside the comic’s surprising consequence to the game it draws from, Dark Temple continues to be a very entertaining prequel era narrative. Even four issues in, writer Matthew Rosenberg is still providing us with new information and twists that upend our understanding of what exactly is going on. Cere and Cordova may have gotten involved in something bigger than they originally anticipated and there is more on the line than freedom for Fylar. Rosenberg has weaved a complex web and just what exactly lies within the titular temple is just as much a mystery now as when it started.

It also helps that this comic is arguably the best looking Star Wars comic on the stands now. Paolo Villanelli has always excelled at drawing dynamic and well choreographed action sequences and he truly shines here as the violent conflict between Flyar and the DAA corporation explodes into full blown war. Villanelli is great at creating a sense of motion and scale and these moments of larger conflict are filled to the brim with well designed characters and explosive energy. Colorist Arif Prianto makes the comic feel like it comes ablaze too with multicolored embers peppering each panel.

Between the surprisingly complex story and the killer art, Dark Temple has quickly evolved into one of the stronger tie-in comics that Star Wars has released in recent memory and a significant improvement on both creator’s previous works in the franchise. Its final issue may not stick the landing, but this is a comic that is well worth considering picking up.

Score: B+

Star Wars Target Vader #5 written by Robbie Thompson and art by Cris Bolson, Robert Di Salvo, and Marco Failla

So turns out the Hidden Hand isn’t the rebellion? I’m very lost at this point. The mysterious crime organization that has been at the center of Target Vader from its start has always been its biggest head scratcher. A last panel reveal at the end of the comic’s first issue heavily hinted that the Hidden Hand was actually just an organization used by the Alliance to work in the criminal underworld. Over the past few issues, we have been given to doubt this reading, until now, where this theory is thrown out the door. Turns out the Hidden Hand may have older and more mysterious origins, but now we are just as lost as ever.

It speaks to the overall aimlessness of Target Vader. Despite the violent thrills of last issue, this miniseries has still been a mostly confused and overly long affair. Beilert Valance is still a mostly dull protagonist and his quest to neutralize Vader feels even more muddled than ever before. Writer Robbie Thompson does some work to try to remedy this situation by giving us an issue that is split between retelling Valance’s past and maiming by the Imperial military and the present where he is now caught between the grip of the Empire and the Rebel Alliance. It creates an interesting scenario for our central anti-hero, but ultimately fails to reveal much enlightening about Valance as a person. We may know why he is a grumpy, angry loaner by this point, but it doesn’t make his relatively one-note behavior any more interesting.

It also doesn’t really help that we have three guest artists on board instead of Stefano Landini. Marco Failla’s pencils may do a good enough job of approximating Landini’s style, but as a whole the result is a bit jarring as the comic never establishes a clear visual consistency. Combined with the fact that we already lost Marc Laming after issue one, this just adds to the weirdly confused reading experience that Target Vader has maintained to this point.

We have seen this comic work. Last issue’s installment was a brutally realized explosion of violent chaos, but we only have one issue now to really bring it all together, and I’m worried that Target Vader may not be up to the task of making this long, strange voyage worth it.

Score: C+

11/20/19

Star Wars #75 written by Greg Pak and art by Phil Noto

All roads lead to K43. In its eighth and final chapter, “Rebels and Rogues” sees all our team members converge on the rocky moon for one climactic stand against Darth Vader and the Empire. In this extra sized finale, Greg Pak and Phil Noto try their best to pull the disparate threads of this arc together while also delivering a satisfying finale. The result proves fun, very strange, and ultimately forgettable. It ends with a summation of this run as a whole: filled with smart art and ideas, but lacking in standout storytelling beats to leave a lasting impression.

Some of the disappointment comes from the fact that much of this issue comes down to our various cast members beating up on Darth Vader. We open with the final blows of Chewbacca and Vader’s brawl which Noto clearly enjoyed bringing to life, but much of the rest of the issue resorts to the extended ensemble blasting away at him in various set pieces. It plays out like a miniature version of 2016’s Vader Down, but lacking in the edge and thrills of that original crossover.

There’s also some strange choices made with the rock people of K43 that don’t entirely gel with what came before. Part of what made these characters so refreshing throughout this story arc has been how Pak used their existence to challenge our characters’ concepts of sentience and to allow C-3PO to bond with another group of non organic life that is similarly overlooked. This fun play continues, but the conflict of it all is handwaved away in a manner that feels unusually flippant. Given the amount of effort put into finding a way around murdering this race, Pak introduces a last minute plot detail that makes it all feel unnecessary and that’s before the giant planet sized stone giant appears.

Yes, this comic gets very weird and it’s certainly fun, but it feels more than a little scattered and chaotic in a comic that already feels all over the place.

With that, we bid goodbye to this short but enjoyable era of Marvel’s Star Wars ongoing. While Empire Ascendant will presumably be the final issue of the main series, with it being rebooted for a new post Empire Strikes Back ongoing headed by Charles Soule and Jesus Saiz sometime in January, there is a sense of finality to this creative team’s last chapter aboard. Pak and Noto prove a fun bunch and had a great sense of playfulness and scope to this ongoing during its final days even if the execution wasn’t always immaculate. I’m glad to hear that Pak will be staying around to write the next volume of Darth Vader. He has some big shoes to fill, but if the heights of this comic are any indication, he is capable of the same spectacle and intrigue as past creators.

Score: B

11/27/19

Star Wars Adventures #28 written by John Barber and Michael Moreci and art by Derek Charm and Tony Fleecs

Chewbacca’s adventures with his porg sidekick, Terbus, are pretty much perfect fodder for an all-ages Star Wars comic. Given how strong Adventures’ visual storytelling has been since day one, having two protagonists who speak through grunts, squawks, and body language is right up this teams’ alley. Yes, it’s cutesy and yes it is a bit simple, but there is undeniable charm in the way Derek Charm draws us through the liberation of Kashyyyk. It may not be as visually inventive as last issue, but the way that Chewbacca hops through the forest and takes on First Order baddies is still illustrated with the same energy and personality.

There is a bit of tonal whiplash here though. While it’s hard not to be won over by Porg salutes and Wookiees knocking heads, there are moments where the enslavement of the Wookiee population is presented as an all too real possibility. The lighter, more playful execution of this issue may do a lot to make this subject matter more palatable for younger readers, but one wonders if this should have been the direction that the story went with at all.

Michael Moreci’s droid adventure is more tonally cohesive and certainly also a fun time, but it lacks the standout visuals and heart of the Chewbacca section. Last issue succeeded by pairing the under appreciated droids with another outcast that also was invisible to the First Order, but the events here are less concerned with character and theme and more so with the fun action of their plan. All the same, it’s still a decent read and sure to delight younger readers.

Score: B

Star Wars Doctor Aphra #39 written by Simon Spurrier and art by Caspar Wijngaard

With just one issue left before the end of their tenure, Simon Spurrier and Caspar Wijngaard are pulling out all the stops for the end of Doctor Aphra. After the misstep that was “Unspeakable Rebel Superweapon,” it has been nice to see Spurrier get back in the swing of things with “A Rogue’s End” as each issue improves upon the last. Wijngaard and colorist Lee Loughridge feel more in sync here than ever before and Spurrier twists the knife as Aphra digs herself further and further into a disaster of her own making.

While she was first introduced in Kieron Gillen’s run on the title, Magna Tolvan and her relationship with Aphra have been staples of Spurrier’s run since he first stepped into the title. Here as we hurtle towards the big finish, it seems only fitting that the tortured and complex romance between these two very different souls take center stage. “A Rogue’s End” isn’t afraid to really dig into what it is about these two broken and confused women that drives their attraction to one another and just how deadly and ill advised their love, if it can be called that, is. It’s antagonistic, violent, but ultimately brimming with the sort of affection and tension that makes a good Star Wars romance sing. There is one image in particular here that is beautifully realized by Wijngaard and Loughridge and may rival the two’s first kiss for the iconography of this pairing.

It’s not all two woman coming to terms with one another under extreme circumstances, Aphra is still full speed ahead on her own mission survival. We hurtle towards a series of decisions at the issue’s end that may just cross the line into Aphra’s biggest moral slippage to date. Spurrier seems poised to deliver final judgement on what kind of person our dear rogue archaeologist may be, but knowing her and this series, the final thematic resting point is anyone’s guess. It’s a good thing that Spurrier makes the whole thing so damn fun to read and Wijngaard creates such beautiful imagery.

Score: A-

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welcometothepenumbra · 5 years ago

Text

SECOND CITADEL – THE SPIRAL SAGE (PART TWO)

SOUND: RAIN. TRAIN ARRIVES, CREAKS TO A STOP. DOOR CLANKS OPEN.

CONDUCTOR: Ah, good evening, Traveler. And welcome… to The Penumbra.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS SHUT.

Take your seat, please, take your seat.

MUSIC: STARTS.

The junction lies ahead, so if you’ll allow me just a moment.

SOUND: TRAIN WHISTLE.

We are now passing through the shores of the Terminus.

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING.

Our next stop?

SOUND: TRAIN BRAKES.

The Spiral Sage.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS OPEN, RAIN.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: SWAMP AMBIANCE.

SIR ANGELO: (FADING IN) …You are certain that the lizard’s tracks lead this way, friend Talfryn?

TALFRYN: Sir Angelo, I already said that there aren’t any tracks.

ANGELO: Well, do you suppose you could find some?

TALFRYN: I’ve been looking, but… (SIGHS) If the monster that took Rilla’s as sneaky as Sir Damien says, it can probably move through its habitat without leaving tracks.

ANGELO: Well… have we tried teamwork yet? That always seems to win the day. Sir Damien, do you have some insight that might prove useful?

SIR DAMIEN: A monster with a heart… it isn’t possible, but how can I deny what I saw in his eyes, or in that hound?

ANGELO: Perhaps something that when combined with my strength, or, Sir Talfryn’s height—

DAMIEN: Or even in those nymphs, in their way… simple creatures, bloody creatures, but could one truly say evil? Ohhhh, Saint, right my course! This ship has lost its compass—

ANGELO: Alright, then! We’ll return to you, uh, later on! And friend Talfryn?

TALFRYN: Let’s just stop here for a second. I’ll see if I can find anything.

ANGELO: Yes! We default to your lead, master tracker!

TALFRYN: Don’t… don’t call me that. Please.

ANGELO: Hmm.

(WHISPERING) Sir Damien, do you see how the lad walks off? Shoulders tight, but posture slumped. What do you think ails him so?

DAMIEN: Perhaps he feels as though the world he’s woken up in has lost its every rule. That if monster-hounds be good, and foreigners make great leaders, the world’s spun off its course; ground floats above and we are falling, falling, into the swallowing sky below. O Saint, it all seemed so simple once—

ANGELO: No, no, I don’t think that’s it at all.

Aha!

SOUND: SNAPS FINGERS.

Confidence! That’s what the boy lacks, of course! It must be…

Begads! Why, Sir Damien! Your posture is just the same! I shall boost your confidence first, and then move on to young Talfryn afterwards. (CLEARS THROAT) First, I shall reassure you that you are one of the greatest monster-slayers in all the land!

DAMIEN: But should we slay them at all? And is it impure of me to question—

ANGELO: And an excellent poet!

DAMIEN: I haven’t worried about that in weeks. O, for that simpler time!

ANGELO: And I shall tell you that you are a very good person as well! Of clear moral standing!

DAMIEN: Do you really think so? Because—

ANGELO: And with your self-doubt settled, we will move on to Talfryn’s.

DAMIEN: But… could we linger on your last point for just for a moment? I’ve been unsure on that very issue for these past—

ANGELO: Young Talfryn seems lost without his brother. You don’t suppose that this is his first adventure without Marc? Did you see his expression when his brother had to stay behind in the swamp?

DAMIEN: And Marc! Ahhh, I misunderstood him for so long… or did I? He builds a flaming sword, but doesn’t maintain himself or his horse, gets waylaid in the swamp by a broken horseshoe! A great warrior, or a great buffoon?

ANGELO: A great boon is right! Friend Marc has given us an impressive tracker in his brother. But when they separated, the boy looked as though he might weep. And if he’s only ever quested with as impressive a warrior as Marc… well, it’s no wonder he’s not confident in his abilities as a hero. Why, he’s never been a hero before, has he?

DAMIEN: A hero! These days I hardly even know what that means. O Saint Damien, lend me your Tranquility… I have not felt it in weeks, now, and I fear I move further from you with every step—

ANGELO: Yes, that’s it! A hero is born when a hero is needed, and if Marc the mighty warrior has conquered every threat those two have come across, then the boy has had no practice! (CHUCKLES) There we have it, Sir Damien! We should take young Talfryn under our wing and teach him the ways of the knight! Surely that will restore his confidence!

DAMIEN: A sign, O Saint Damien, please, any sign that I’ve not lost my way completely…

ANGELO: On second thought, you seem very busy with… whatever goes on in there. So I’ll let you work those things out and train the boy myself! Just call if you need me! Sir Angelo away! Hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup!

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

ANGELO: What-ho, friend Talfryn! Have you made any discoveries yet?

TALFRYN: Not really. I’ve found some big tracks here, though – like huge pig feet. I thought an ogre at first, but they come in a pair, and never get too far from one another, so it’s probably an oni of some kind… maybe Horcs?

ANGELO: If you’re feeling ill, I recommend you breathe deeply, my friend. A warrior does not vomit unless absolutely necessary!

SOUND: SWAMP AMBIANCE FADES OUT/RUNNING WATER FADES IN.

TALFRYN: No, I mean that’s what they’re… called… (SIGHS) They’re going north, though. Out of the swamp.

DAMIEN: Out of the swamp?

ANGELO: Then the scaly cur’s escaped! Drat!

TALFRYN: The ground’s dryer, there’s some sand scattered around… we’re probably close to another shore.

ANGELO: Not just sand, mind: salt, and a great deal of it. Why, these crystals are massive! Some of the most elegant specimens I’ve ever seen! Perhaps I’ll just carve off—

DAMIEN: The end of the swamp… that would suggest that we are due south of the Terminus… but if that’s really true…

…then we’re saved.

Ha-ha! Saved, my fellows, saved! If those beasts have led us to the world’s Northern edge, then they’ve guided our hands to their own unmaking! Don’t you see it, Sir Angelo, Talfryn?

ANGELO: But of course! With these impressive crystals of salt, we shall hew spears that sting unbearably even as they cut—

DAMIEN: Not! The salt!

No. No, my friends. We are saved by Saintly providence, for you see, the Terminus shore is the home of the Spiral Sage!

ANGELO: Ha-ha, yes! My favorite of the sages, as I’ve always said!

TALFRYN: Who– who’s the Spiral Sage?

ANGELO: Yes, Sir Damien, I can’t say I’ve heard of him.

DAMIEN: An old legend – all tales from the four ends of the world are old, as few men return from them alive. It is said that there stands a tower upon this shore built not of brick or wood, but of a single, spiral piece; and within that tower lives the Spiral Sage, an ancient prophet who can touch truth and time as easily as you or I can touch this sand.

ANGELO: Hmm.

SOUND: SAND/PEBBLES FALLING.

Why, that’s quite easy indeed!

DAMIEN: My parents spoke of his tale with all the reverence of the Saints, but, I admit, in my weakest moments I wasn’t certain he existed… even the four ends of the world seem so improbable from inside the Citadel…

Yet, here we are! If anyone can tell us where to find Rilla and how to free us from these monsters’ mind-warping magic, it’s him!

TALFRYN: But… I thought you said humans didn’t come out here very often. How’s an old man been living out here for hundreds of years?

DAMIEN: He’s immortal, of course. Mastery of time, Talfryn, you really ought to listen.

TALFRYN: But don’t monsters have that kind of power?

DAMIEN: Monsters and Saints, my friend. It’s actually quite simple: monsters break the divine rules that govern all things. Saints ask for permission from the powers above to bend those rules; and with that permission granted, they know their acts are good.

TALFRYN: But… how are you supposed to tell the difference?

DAMIEN: Faith, my friend. The recognition that we cannot understand all things, but that sense lies deep within them… even if it is beyond our capability to grasp it.

And that…! That’s what I’ve been missing! Of course!

TALFRYN: Uh, what?

DAMIEN: (LAUGHS) Well, onward, friends! A great miracle, this: a twisted world has found its shape again, and the Spiral Sage will reveal it to us!

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING.

ANGELO: Come, young Talfryn! A true knight never refuses a challenge!

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING.

Hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup… (FADING)

TALFRYN: But guys, how is Sir Marc going to… find us…? (SIGHS)

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS, PANTING.

Wait!

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: CROWD MURMURING.

BAILIFF: The humans will be given two more minutes to assemble their defense!

CAROLINE: I told you to stay calm.

RILLA: I… am. You’re the one who’s been talking at a thousand—

CAROLINE: What we need is strategy. A plan of attack. And we’ve two minutes to prepare it. You’re a doctor. How many people have you killed?

RILLA: Um, none!

CAROLINE: Not one! And they let you practice in the Citadel?

RILLA: What kind of doctors are you used to?

CAROLINE: Ah, no, that must be why you were exiled. A pity.

BAILIFF: Court will begin in one minute!

CAROLINE: We have no time, so I hope you’ve some wits about you. You must follow my lead on this, do you understand? I will listen to you on medical concerns—

RILLA: You haven’t so far.

CAROLINE: I will listen to you on medical concerns when you aren’t trying to trick me, but now that the law is our problem, we are in my realm, and you must follow my lead.

RILLA: I’ve been in court before.

CAROLINE: You have been in a Citadel court! You Northerners stay boarded up behind those walls so long that you forget you don’t comprise the entire world. But courts, legal systems, even punishments the world over are dangerously different and fatally similar. If you walk into this expecting to present evidence, answer testimony, and appeal to a jury of your peers, then you and I will be fed to the beasts in seconds.

I have been in courts across this world. Never a monster court, but… I at least know what strategies work consistently. And so we will use our wits, and you will speak only when prompted. Any questions?

RILLA: …You’ve been the accused in all those courts. Haven’t you?

BAILIFF: The humans’ time is up!

CAROLINE: Follow my lead. We’ll play dumb, glean their rules, and then talk circles around them. That is all.

JUDGE: Thank you, Bailiff.

(CLEARS THROAT) We will begin with opening statements. Humans, please proceed.

CAROLINE: First, most horrible Judge Helicoid, if I may ask a question: how are we to participate in your Court if we know none of its customs?

SOUND: CROWD GASPS.

RILLA: Sure sounds like you know what you’re doing.

SOUND: RUSTLING.

Ow!

JUDGE: Calm down.

SOUND: THREE QUICK CLAPS.

Quiet! I will have quiet!

SOUND: CROWD HUSHES.

(CLEARS THROAT) Humans: what you call ‘customs’ are strictly behaviors that you creatures keep – arbitrary agreements based on location and time period and it-hardly-matters-what-else have no place in this court. The universe has granted us free will and desires for a reason. So long as we do precisely what we please, we will be acting as the universe intends. And, thereby, will we ensure stability and balance for all.

CAROLINE: Except for the ones you kill.

JUDGE: Cannot a breakfast be balanced?

Therefore! This court has no rules. So long as we all do what we truly want, things will run smoothly.

CAROLINE: Well, that doesn’t make any sense to me. Herbalist?

RILLA: Agreed.

CAROLINE: Are you sure? It sounds quite a lot like the Saints nonsense your fiancé is always—

RILLA: I don’t think that makes sense either, but, it’s important to him so I try to support him.

CAROLINE: Too good of you.

RILLA: Thanks.

CAROLINE: Not a compliment.

BAILIFF: Silence, humans!

CAROLINE: I thought you said we could do anything we wanted?

BAILIFF: Well, not if it’s… not if it’s that!

JUDGE: (CLEARS THROAT) Mm. Yes. It’s clear that you creatures have lived under the yoke of customs too long; your ability, I say your very ability to act as you wish has atrophied. However, we do allow accommodations for the, um, eh… willfully impaired. Bailiff, would you be so kind as to tell them what they want?

BAILIFF: Of course, your Horror. Right now—

RILLA: That snot-thing? How is that fair? She clearly hates us!

SOUND: RUSTLING.

Ow!

JUDGE: Bailiff is an utmost professional, a golem of my own prophetic slime, created to enact the law. You can be assured that she will do her duty exactly as she wants to.

BAILIFF: I will be a model of objectivity and respect, your Horror! Now, the two turgid abominations of unsettling solidity wish to please step forward!

CAROLINE: Go.

SOUND: TWO FOOTSTEPS.

BAILIFF: And now, the two unreasonably bald apes wish to end their opening statement immediately!

RILLA: No, we—

CAROLINE: Yes, your Horror.

JUDGE: Very good, very good. Now, Bailiff: prepare the humans for testimony.

RILLA: What?

CAROLINE: Shh!

BAILIFF: In our court, the universe holds ultimate sway, and the universe has given us wants desires AND needs that we may act out what it most wants to see. It is our utmost duty to do as we wish, because that is what will keep the universe entertained, is that understood?

CAROLINE: Nearly. But if I could just ask—

BAILIFF: The four-appendaged freaks with skin like dried molluscs wish to tell their story immediately!

CAROLINE: (AFTER A PAUSE) Uhmmmm… what story?

JUDGE: The tale of how you arrived in this courtroom today, human. The universe will hear it, and if you truly have acted as you desire, it will find you belong here and let you go; if you have not, it will tell us the proper place for you.

BAILIFF: The creatures with perfectly good paws ruined by one fat finger which wiggles ever so should also be prepared for a question and answer session from the courtroom at large.

JUDGE: Oh: and do feel free to elaborate, pontificate, and otherwise linger on the most interesting moments, hm? We’ve still several hours before the sun sets and I do like a good show.

CAROLINE: Alright. We will tell our story with utmost respect for the universe’s will, your Horror.

(CLEARS THROAT) You see, I was to escort this doctor—

VOICE 4: (DISTANT, CALLING) Why did you stab me in the bum!

CAROLINE: …Excuse me?

SOUND: CROWD MURMURING.

JUDGE: You heard the beast. Why did you stab him in the bum?

CAROLINE: I… pardon me, your Circuitousness, but I thought we were to tell our tale now?

BAILIFF: The creatures with an irresponsible surplus of internal organs wish to recall the question and answer session they were informed of seconds ago!

CAROLINE: But shouldn’t that come after—

TROTTER: (CALLING) Quit dodging the question, man! We just wanna know why you stabbed the guy twice in his keister!

SOUND: CROWD GROWS LOUDER.

CAROLINE: Well, first – I would say that it wasn’t his rear that I stabbed—

VOICE 4: (DISTANT, CALLING) Yeah, it was!

CAROLINE: No. It was your stomach.

VOICE 4: (DISTANT, CALLING) That’s my bum!

CAROLINE: What even are you?

RILLA: (QUIETLY) Sir Caroline…

CAROLINE: Shut up!

PORCUS: (CALLING) Hey! I got one for ya: hey, girlie! How do your femurs taste?

PORCUS & TROTTER: (LAUGHING)

CAROLINE: I don’t know; I’ve never tasted them.

PORCUS: Eeee?

SOUND: CROWD BOOS.

CAROLINE: You can see them! It was an inane question to begin with.

TROTTER: (CALLING) You can’t say that! The pig’s got free speech, man!

VOICE 5: (DISTANT, CALLING) Yeah, sweets! Tell them what they want to hear! No matter how silly it is!

RILLA: (QUIETLY) No matter how silly… (LOUDER) My femurs… taste like candy! Like I’ve got, um, big candy… sticks, in my legs, like uh, uh…

VOICE 5: (DISTANT, CALLING) Like candy canes!

PORCUS: (CALLING) Candy canes, she says! Girl’s held up by candy canes!

SOUND: CROWD LAUGHTER.

CAROLINE: This. Is an embarassment.

RILLA: You made me wear the big pink flower!

BAILIFF: Settle down, please! Settle down! One voice at a time, now, thank you!

JUDGE: Thank you, Bailiff. Now, humans: what was your goal in infiltrating this courtroom, hmm? An espionage attempt by the human menace, perhaps, hmmmm?

VOICE 5: (DISTANT, CALLING) I’m bored of the human menace! Tell us what really happened!

SOUND: CROWD GROWS LOUDER.

BAILIFF: One voice at a time, one voice at a time—

PORCUS: (CALLING) Sure, one voice, and I want it to be candy-canes up there!

TROTTER: (CALLING) Yeah, man! Why’s she here? I like her!

VOICE 5: (DISTANT, CALLING) Tell us, sweets! If we all like you, the verdict can’t be that bad!

BAILIFF: Your Horror…

JUDGE: (CLEARS THROAT)

SOUND: CROWD QUIETS A BIT.

RILLA: I’m… um… we were just… as Sir Caroline was saying…

CAROLINE: (QUIETLY) Tell the truth, herbalist, and it’s your head.

RILLA: I… I mean, we’re in your court… because… uh…

Because of the lizard on trial before us! Because I think I might be in love with Lord Arum!

JUDGE: (GASPS)

SOUND: CROWD HUSHES.

I say! (GAGGING) I think I’m going to be ill.

SOUND: CROWD BURSTS INTO LAUGHTER.

TROTTER: (CALLING) Baaaarf, dude! This is too much, dude!

PORCUS: (CALLING) Ohhh, yer killin’ me, girlie! Tell us more!

RILLA: I wanted to kiss that lizard! I wanted to kiss him right on his scaly mouth. I was also thinking that might be a challenge because he doesn’t have lips, but I thought we’d… figure it out.

SOUND: CROWD LAUGHS.

BAILIFF: Settle down, please! Settle down!

SOUND: CROWD HUSHES.

RILLA: And I… I’m already in love with someone else, and I don’t love him any less because of this! If anything I love him more, because I appreciate all the things that make him one- of-a-kind! I love his stories, and his smile; I love that he makes me see the beauty in the hard questions, even when they make me uncomfortable. I love that he makes me grow, and when I look at Lord Arum I get the feeling that even… even a monster could make me grow, too, and, in new ways, different ways, like… a tree? With… branches? And they’re growing… different ways? Two ways? Forget it! The point is, I want to spend time with him and find out if that’s true!

TROTTER: (SNIFFLING) That’s… that’s beautiful, man.

PORCUS: (SNIFFLING) It is, ain’t it?

TROTTER: (SNIFFLING) Porcus, I feel like I don’t say this enough, dude, but I… y’know, I…

PORCUS: Yeah?

TROTTER: There’s no pig I’d rather be magically chained to for the rest of eternity, man!

PORCUS: Me neither, Trotter! Me neither!

PORCUS & TROTTER: (SOBBING)

SOUND: CROWD SOBBING.

JUDGE: How… very touching. (BLUBBERS)

CAROLINE: I am furious with you right now.

RILLA: Good.

BAILIFF: Your Circuitousness… that is, Most Horrible Judge Helicoid…

SOUND: CROWD HUSHES.

JUDGE: Yes, the human’s tale has moved me to tears, Bailiff. I’m but a monster, after all – if you tickle me, do not I laugh? If you prick me, do not I spew a steady stream of pus across the room?

BAILIFF: Yes, but your Horror! (WHISPERING) You have a message.

JUDGE: A message, you say? What strange– I say– eh, uh, who could I possibly—

Oh? Tell it to me! Quickly, quickly!

BAILIFF: (WHISPERS)

JUDGE: (OVER THE BELOW) Mmhmm… yes, mmhmm… hmm, hmm… them, you say? Really? …Well, yes, of course, plenty of time, plenty of… but– oh! No time at all, you say? Hmm, well, hmmm, well… Several hours to go, I thought…

RILLA: (OVER THE ABOVE) So I didn’t follow your plan. So what? We’re winning, aren’t we?

CAROLINE: (OVER THE ABOVE) Winning isn’t worth anything. I care only if we’ve won. And if you’ve jeopardized that then you’ve endangered many lives.

RILLA: So she cares about lives now, huh?

CAROLINE: It is my job. I am very good at my job.

RILLA: You say that a lot.

CAROLINE: And what, precisely, is that supposed to mean?

JUDGE: Well, I rather think that wraps things up for this trial. A lot of excellent work, everyone. The universe clearly has enough to go off—now, let’s hear its say and process the humans immediately.

SOUND: CROWD BOOS.

TROTTER: (CALLING) Bogus, dude! It was just getting good!

VOICE 5: (CALLING) Yeah! We want to hear more!

JUDGE: That’s enough!

SOUND: THREE CLAPS. CROWD HUSHES.

As entertaining as it might be to hear more detail, that is not what we are here to do. By wasting the time of this court, you are restricting our possibilities for future action, and are thereby guilty of Incarceration – one of our prime sins, I need not remind the court.

SOUND: CROWD MURMURS.

Therefore. We will now move on to Judgment, and then, Relocation. Bailiff, if you would.

BAILIFF: Yes, your Horror. The terrible pervert’s compatriot, and the aforementioned terrible pervert, wish to make way for his Horror’s slime!

CAROLINE: That we most certainly do.

RILLA: You’re giving up?

CAROLINE: I would point that particular accusation at the untrained herbalist who acted however the mood took her instead of sticking to observation and strategy.

RILLA: The trial was rigged, Sir Caroline!

CAROLINE: And I’ve made my way out of rigged trials before. Without interruption.

RILLA: Yeah, well, your strategy stunk, alright? I was just doing what the woman in the crowd was suggesting—

CAROLINE: What. Woman?

VOICE 5: Play for time, sweets! The sun’s on your side, but you need time!

RILLA: Her! The one who just shouted at us!

CAROLINE: I hear nobody except for you, herbalist.

JUDGE: Sunset draws near… very near, actually, which seems odd, and, court must close soon. So therefore…

O universe, speak through me, etcetera etcetera, ooooooooOOOooo judgment! (SNORTS, SPITS)

SOUND: BUBBLING.

(HISSING/GROWLING) The humans have wandered from their path. They must be sent to Fort Terminus immediately. I say, it must be done immediately.

SOUND: CROWD BOOS, BUBBLING STOPS.

RILLA & CAROLINE: (IN UNISON) What?!

JUDGE: Well, that wraps things up! That’s all, case closed!

SOUND: THREE CLAPS.

Now, guards, Porcus and Trotter, if you would be so kind as to transport the humans to their holding cell, we can get on with the next—

VOICE 5: Closing statements!

JUDGE: Hm? W-w-what’s that? Who said that, now, speak up, will you?

VOICE 5: The trial’s not over until we get our closing statements!

SOUND: CHIMES.

Yeah! Yes, yes! Yeah, I wanna hear the Judge talk! (CHANTING) Clo-sing! State-ments!

JUDGE: Well! Hmm, hm-hm-hm, well well. Closing statements, Bailiff, I can’t believe you didn’t remind me!

CAROLINE: Why is the snail talking to himself?

RILLA: He isn’t. You… really can’t hear her, can you?

CAROLINE: Really can’t hear who—

…Oh.

BAILIFF: Uhhh… but… uhh… but, your Circuitousness… the message—

JUDGE: Damn the message, Bailiff! I’m the Judge, hm hm, I’m the Judge himself, aren’t I? And the sun should take half an hour to set, so if my audience wants to hear me speak, well, let them!

SOUND: CHIMES.

VOICE 5: (OVERLAPPING) Infinite power and an infinite supply of mucous? Who says you can’t have it all! Oh, he’s such a nightmareboat, isn’t he? Shake that slime, baby! Yasss, Judge!

JUDGE: (CHUCKLES) Hm. You’re too kind, yes, you really are too kind.

CAROLINE: (GROWLS) Of course.

RILLA: Of course what?

JUDGE: Well, I’ll just, um… I’ll only be a minute now… and then, it will be time for your official sentencing. And then off the world with you, mmmmm, heh-heh-heh, yes… (COUGHS, CLEARS THROAT) My closing statement… is!

BAILIFF: Your Circuitousness! Look! Outside! It’s… dark!

JUDGE: Don’t be silly, Bailiff! The sun has barely begun to… to– to set…

Oh. Oh, dear me. So it is. Um.

SOUND: FIVE QUICK CLAPS.

Spiral court is now adjourned. We will open again for closing statements in the morning, thank you! Porcus and Trotter, the holding cells, please. Good night!

RILLA: Wh– what the…

CAROLINE: I’ll tell you exactly “what the,” herbalist. You have been taking advice from the only creature in this courtroom more dangerous than any monster. And you can be sure she’ll come knocking for you again soon.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: RUNNING WATER.

DAMIEN: There! Do you see, fellows, in the distance – that spiral tower! (LAUGHS) The temple’s oldest legends would never lie! The great Spiral Sage will surely save us!

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

ANGELO: What-ho! Rilla is surely saved!

TALFRYN: (WINDED) Yeah. Hooray.

ANGELO: Come now, Talfryn. I know that you’re the worrying type, but this must be cheering even for you, eh?

TALFRYN: No, I’m happy about Rilla, it’s just—

Do either of you hear anything?

DAMIEN: The tranquil breath of the waves, of course! Saint Damien’s blessing! Perhaps this shall be the path to my redemption!

ANGELO: Naught but the heroic beating of my heart, good Talfryn. And the impressive musical ring of this salt, hmm!

SOUND: BELL DING.

Such rare structure to these crystals! I think I’ll just take another little one.

DAMIEN: We’ve already stopped three times, Sir Angelo.

TALFRYN: No, no, I mean… I don’t hear anything. Nothing alive; no seagulls, no fish… not even any bugs.

DAMIEN: A hush often hangs upon a sacred place, Talfryn. Of course it’s quiet here.

TALFRYN: No. There are quiet days in the jungle or the swamps, and I’ve heard them. But this is different. This is… (MOANS)

DAMIEN: Sir Angelo… can we please continue—

ANGELO: Raising the boy’s confidence? An excellent idea, Sir Damien!

TALFRYN: Raising my what?

ANGELO: (CLEARS THROAT) Well, if you’re concerned, then let us discuss how to ensure the success of our mission, hmm? For example: how do you think your brother would approach this situation? He is a talented strategist, and I find I learn most when taught by my loved ones. Like Sir Damien. And Sir Caroline. And your brother. And—

TALFRYN: I don’t know what Marc would say. Probably something about how the shell isn’t big enough for him to waste his time on.

ANGELO: Hm? I’m afraid I don’t follow.

TALFRYN: That’s what he said the last time we talked. That the Salamander Sword was supposed to be his big finish, the thing he showed off at the very end of our quest, when he saved the day once and for all. Only now that finish wasn’t big enough anymore, ‘cause he already used it, and he needed time to prepare something bigger, that’d show ‘em, and he said I should go with you guys and help you find Rilla while he made something better, and—

ANGELO: Talfryn, Talfryn! These are merely jitters! First you say things are too alive, as with the nymphs, and now they are too quiet. If one fears sound and silence, why, one must always be afraid!

TALFRYN: That’s not—

Actually, that makes a lot of sense.

ANGELO: Then there is only one solution!

TALFRYN: Try not to jump to conclusions and find evidence to—

ANGELO: Have no fear of anything! Hup hup hup hup hup hup hup hup… (FADING)

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING.

DAMIEN: Finally!

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

TALFRYN: Okay. I guess a knight has… no fear. No fear… no fear… no fear…

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: DOOR CREAKS OPEN. SLOW FOOTSTEPS.

DAMIEN: (QUIETLY) Saints above… we’ve really found it.

ANGELO: (CALLING) It smells rather like a barn in here!

DAMIEN: Hush, Sir Angelo! This is a sacred place; we are blessed to set foot in it.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

Though, it does seem to have fallen into disrepair these days… but, such a holiness! Mother and Father told me about places like this one, but I never thought I’d be so lucky… I can feel the ancient power in my skin; even my hair stands at attention. Can you feel that, fellows?

TALFRYN: I… can, actually.

ANGELO: As can I. How tingly!

DAMIEN: Down here, you see, around the central dais, this must be where people gathered to ask of the Prophet his visions, in brighter, more reverent days than these. And that iron podium must be where the Spiral Sage makes his decrees!

ANGELO: Iron! Hardly! That podium is made of… well, it’s clearly…

Saints, I don’t know what that is.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

TALFRYN: So… we’re all just gonna… (SIGHS) Okay.

DAMIEN: And these tapestries on the walls… fascinating. A tale, perhaps…

ANGELO: Perfectly smooth, this material, and not a bit of give. An alloy of some kind, clearly, but… not steel. Interesting.

SOUND: CLANG.

Saints, that’s dense! Not even I could lift this!

TALFRYN: Sir Angelo… Sir Damien… is it really safe for us to just… wander in here?

DAMIEN: Stay by the door if you like, Talfryn, but I would be more afraid of what lives in those wilds than anything in a great Sage’s home.

ANGELO: Too true! Unless… Sir Damien, do you think a great Sage would have great house-centipedes? I can’t stand those things, with all their little legs and… ughhhh.

TALFRYN: (MOANS)

DAMIEN: These tapestries are… confusing. There must be some metaphorical meaning I’m not aware of. There’s the Sage, clearly, but he is surrounded by both humans and monsters.

Hmmm, surely the Sage will have the answer. But where could he…

Ah, a hidden door beneath this extremely wet couch! That must be the Sage’s secret chamber! Now, to move it. (GRUNTS)

SOUND: SQUISHY STRETCHING.

Wh-what is this… ugh!!

TALFRYN: What? What is it, what?

DAMIEN: My hands are stuck to this… couch!

SOUND: GOOPY STRETCH. HEAVY CREAKING.

(BIG YELL, OVER THE BELOW)

ANGELO: (OVER THE ABOVE) Begad, and now the couch is moving!

TALFRYN: (OVER THE ABOVE) Guys… I don’t think that’s a couch…!

SOUND: SQUISHES.

JUDGE: (YAWNS) What’s all that terrible racket? A Judge needs his sleep, I say, and it’s only…

Oh! It’s only sunset? How very odd… but court ended with nightfall, hem, hm, and that could not have been more than a few hours ago.

DAMIEN: Saints above… I’m stuck!

JUDGE: Who’s stuck?

SOUND: SQUISHES.

Who? Who are you? Where are you, you pest, you annoyance, you…!

(SNIFFS, GROWLS) Human! An invisible human somewhere in this room?

ANGELO: (WHISPERING) Ah! An excellent opportunity! Now we will see how one of the Citadel’s strongest warriors dispatches this beast! Watch Sir Damien’s strategy closely now, Talfryn!

TALFRYN: Okay…

JUDGE: Where are you? I say, where are you?!

SOUND: SQUISHES.

DAMIEN: (YELLING, OVER THE BELOW) BaaaAaaaAAaaACK yOOOoooUUuu fffiiiEEeeeEEennnd!!

JUDGE: (OVER THE ABOVE) Confound that racket! Confound it, I say! Where is this yelping little so-and-so; show him at once!

TALFRYN: S-sir Angelo! Sir Damien’s in trouble! You have to save him!

DAMIEN: (YELLING, OVER THE BELOW) HeeeeEEeeEEEeelllPPPP!

ANGELO: (OVER THE ABOVE) Do you think so? He seems to have that slimy fellow in quite the headlock.

TALFRYN: He’s just stuck to the back of its head!

DAMIEN: (YELLING IN BACKGROUND)

ANGELO: And besides, man, you say I must save him? You misspeak, young Talfryn: a true knight respects unity, togetherness, teamwork. There is no Sir Angelo in team!

TALFRYN: He really seems like he needs help, Sir Angelo, so I think you should probably just—

SOUND: HEAVY, SQUISHY FOOTSTEPS.

ANGELO: You must be more confident, my friend. You could slay the beast just as easily as I.

TALFRYN: Uh, no.

ANGELO: And why not?

TALFRYN: Do we have to talk about this right now?

ANGELO: A good instructor always listens, and now, I am listening.

DAMIEN: (YELLING IN BACKGROUND)

TALFRYN: (AFTER A PAUSE) I’ve never killed a monster before, okay? I’ve helped, but I’ve never… you know. Now can you go save Sir Damien, please?

ANGELO: Never killed a monster before! Why that’s… that’s…

…just the thing I’ve been looking for.

TALFRYN: Um, that was really foreboding and everything and I’m sure you had a good reason for it, Sir Angelo, but I’m worried Sir Damien’s gonna break his neck if that snail keeps it up, so—

ANGELO: You! Slime monster! Cease that shaking at once and fight me, beast!

JUDGE: Hmmm?

SOUND: SQUISHING STOPS.

More humans! An infestation! My privacy, I say, a complete violation of my privacy!

DAMIEN: (PANTING, DIZZY) Sir Angelo… watch out… he’s very… sticky…

ANGELO: Oh I know, my friend. I know. (QUIETLY) That’s precisely my plan. Hmm hmm!

TALFRYN: Maybe you shouldn’t say your plan out loud?

ANGELO: Stand still, beast. A true warrior approaches now.

JUDGE: A true warrior? A human?! (LAUGHS) I haven’t feared a human in centuries!

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

I say, you do not scare me, little creature! You are nothing!

B-b-blast you, say something! I do not f-f-fear you! The universe speaks through me, you know?

SOUND: BLADE UNSHEATHING.

ANGELO: Prepare to meet your end, beast.

JUDGE: (YELL OF FEAR)

ANGELO: (BATTLE CRY)

TALFRYN: Whoa.

ANGELO: (BATTLE CRY STOPS) Oops! An accident! I have… tripped! Hup!

SOUND: SQUELCH.

TALFRYN: Wh… what?!

JUDGE: Oh. That was… simpler than expected.

DAMIEN: Sir Angelo.

ANGELO: Sir Damien!

DAMIEN: Did you. Just get yourself caught. In this monster’s slime?

ANGELO: Ha ha, of course not! It was but an accident!

…Is what they will think, when in reality I have given my young pupil the opportunity to prove himself a great hero!

TALFRYN: No… n-n-n-no-no-no-no-no…

JUDGE: He does know we can hear him, doesn’t he?

ANGELO: Ha ha! They will call me Sir Angelo, the Strong of Body and Teaching!

DAMIEN: I… am less certain of that than you, my friend.

TALFRYN: Sir Angelo! H-how am I supposed to do this? I’m not even a knight!

ANGELO: Not with that attitude, you aren’t! Just follow my guidance and all will be fine!

JUDGE: Yet another human?

SOUND: SQUISHES.

Reveal yourself, boy! You are alone; you stand no chance against this Judge!

DAMIEN: It’s alright, Talfryn! Remember that we are in the Sage’s tower; the beast must have him locked away in here! Find him, quickly, and we shall surely be saved!

TALFRYN: The Spiral Sage… right! If he’s that powerful, he can save us!

JUDGE: Sage? A Spiral Sage, you say? (CHUCKLES TURNING TO FULL-ON LAUGHTER)

DAMIEN: You won’t be laughing when he destroys you with his divine power, demon!

JUDGE: Hem hem! And what, if I may ask – what is this Sage’s name?

DAMIEN: Sage Helicoid, of course!

JUDGE: (BAHAHAHAHAHA)

TALFRYN: …Oh no.

JUDGE: (PANTING) No, no, please, no more, please, ohh, uhh…

Insignificant one, you’ve been misinformed. I am Helicoid, the Spiral Judge!

DAMIEN: No- no- no…

TALFRYN: Oh no oh no oh no oh no.

ANGELO: Then it’s up to you, young Talfryn! You can do this! Just follow my instruction!

JUDGE: Yes, please, my boy, listen to your teacher. (CHUCKLES)

ANGELO: These quarters are too cramped to fight well – you must gain more advantageous ground! To the door! Fight this beast outside!

TALFRYN: (WHIMPERS)

ANGELO: Don’t just stand there! Run!

SOUND: LOW RUMBLING, SQUISHES, HEAVY CREAKING.

JUDGE: I think not.

But, I do thank you for the tip, human. This will be settled quickly, I think.

TALFRYN: H-he’s blocking the exit!

DAMIEN: Because you didn’t move!

TALFRYN: Bu-but- but he’s so b-big and if I g-get c-caught it’s all over and-a and- and—

ANGELO: That sounds like thinking, Talfryn, and we have no time for thought! Instincts are the means by which we move straight to action without once touching our minds. Listen to your instincts, friend! And remember: no fear!

TALFRYN: No fear… no fear… no fear…

JUDGE: Ah. There you are, my boy. (SNORTS, SPITS)

TALFRYN: No; fear.

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

(YELLING, PANTING)

JUDGE: My hidden chambers! Get back here! Contempt! Contempt, I say, this is contempt! (FADING OUT)

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: GRUNTING, FOOTSTEPS FADE IN.

PORCUS: Aaaaaaand in ya go!

TROTTER: Close it, man, close it!

SOUND: BANG. DRIPPING WATER/CAVE AMBIANCE.

TROTTER: (PANTING) Close shave, dude. That one can really thrash.

CAROLINE: Fight me, swine! Get this slime off my hands and fight me!

PORCUS: (SQUEALING LAUGHTER, SNORTS) Y’know, I almost like you humans. It’ll be too bad when we bring you to the Fortress and toss ya off the edge of the world tomorrow. (LAUGHS)

TROTTER: Hey man, are you sure that’s kosher? ‘Cause, uh—

PORCUS: Yeah, okay, so the trial ain’t technically over, Trots; but all the Judge has to do is say like five words and then we’re done.

TROTTER: Nah, brah, not that. I thought we didn’t toss ‘em anymore? Like, weren’t we gonna put ‘em in the work—

SOUND: THUD.

Ow!

PORCUS: Shut up, ham-brains! And let’s get out of here before you really mess up!

CAROLINE: This trial won’t be the end of us. Do you hear me?

TROTTER: Don’t count on it, dude! Judge Helicoid isn’t gonna lose track of time twice!

PORCUS & TROTTER: (LAUGHTER FADES)

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING.

CAROLINE: And give me back my sword, you cowards! Ugh. This is your fault, herbalist.

RILLA: Me? How?

CAROLINE: Because you didn’t listen to me. Because you decided to listen to that… that creature in the audience.

That’s right! I know you’re out there, so show yourself! Witch!

VOICE 5: (ECHOING LAUGHTER)

SOUND: HARP STRUM.

Meanie. (GIGGLES)

CAROLINE: I knew it. Meddling in official duty. Citadel law states that I could run you through for this.

VOICE 5: Oh—with what, your hands? Ohhh, those hands do seem quite strong, though. Forget I said anything.

CAROLINE: So this is how you’re going to play it, then.

VOICE 5: Playing! Oh, I love games – when I win them. Have I won yet?

CAROLINE: Listen to me: you are not wanted here. We neither require nor desire your assistance. So if you can cloak your voice from me, you can cloak the rest of you as well and get out of here.

RILLA: But… wait. Why would she only hide her voice from you?

CAROLINE: Hmph.

VOICE 5: Oh, just look at that face, sweets. Look at how much she hates me! Wouldn’t you hide?

CAROLINE: I don’t hate witches. They just. Don’t. Belong. Here.

VOICE 5: She’s no fun to talk to. How ‘bout you, babe? Can a little lost witch get some hospitality? Just a scootch?

CAROLINE: Don’t do it, herbalist.

VOICE 5: I’ll start by doing better than her: I’ll call you by your name. Enlighten me?

RILLA: Rilla. And you?

VOICE 5: Rilla! Pretty, pretty Rilla. Mine is always Quanyii, no matter how much of my physical form I change, so please don’t get confused. Oh, I know that sounds boring, sweets; but even when you’re trying to keep things fresh, something has to stay the same or you might… lose yourself entirely. (LAUGHS)

RILLA: New forms? So, are you… a monster?

VOICE 5 [QUANYII]: No. No matter how hard I try. Though I think I’d get sick of being a monster eventually, too – call me restless. Curious. Gorgeous.

CAROLINE: No.

QUANYII: Oh, she’s shy! Stop it, you’re making me blush! (BLOWS A KISS)

RILLA: But if you’re down here… then you got past the guards!

QUANYII: I did! They’re all dozing at their posts as we speak, dreaming sweet little vandals’ dreams. They’re so cute when they’re unconscious.

RILLA: Then you can get us out of here?

QUANYII: Get out of here? No, no, Rilla, you’re thinking about this all wrong. Neither of you wants to get out of here. Not really.

CAROLINE: Of course we want out of this cell. What’s your game, witch?

QUANYII: The cell, of course, but the prison? I don’t think so. Because I hear that there’s a reptile you’re both after, and guess where he happens to be?

RILLA: In the prison. Arum, you know where Lord Arum is?

QUANYII: I do.

RILLA: And you can help us find him?

CAROLINE: Herbalist…

QUANYII: Not only can I, sweets: I’m very bored today! And it sounds like just the thing I feel like doing. If the price is right.

CAROLINE: I knew it.

RILLA: The… price?

QUANYII: Don’t worry, babe, I know what you’re thinking: can I really afford a witch? In this economy? And I’m happy to say that you can, no matter how poorly doctors are treated in the modern day—low pay, long hours, exile, you poor thing—because witches don’t trade in money. We trade in favors.

CAROLINE: Rilla.

RILLA: Favor? What kind of favor?

QUANYII: Nothing big! Just a percentage. Once you find this lizard-lord… (CHUCKLES) Well, we’ll just talk it over then.

RILLA: You aren’t going to hurt him! Because I– I… I have to talk to him.

CAROLINE: And I’ll be the only one hurting him, thank you.

QUANYII: Please, you absolutely stunning ladies, please. The pay is negotiable. I won’t take anything either of you want. We’ll discuss what you’re after… and then I’ll decide what favor I’ll take.

RILLA: I guess… if we decide together, then…

CAROLINE: Herbalist!

A word.

QUANYII: Not unless that word is ‘yes.’

CAROLINE: You are not invited!

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

RILLA: What is your problem? First you tell me I got us stuck in here, then you—

CAROLINE: You have never been in debt to a witch before, herbalist.

RILLA: Well, I don’t see any other option.

CAROLINE: You might not see it because you’ve hardly looked. This is serious.

RILLA: So what? Suddenly you care about what happens to me?

CAROLINE: I am a knight of the Citadel. Your safety is—

RILLA: Supposed to be your top priority. But where was this in the swamp? Where was this when you threatened to execute me, or kept me walking on a broken ankle, or kept interrogating me every second of the day?

CAROLINE: The monsters are destroyers, Rilla. If there was even a chance that you had fallen in league with them—

RILLA: So it’s your job. And who cares what happens to the people right in front of you, so long as you get to keep your job – is that it? I’ve known you for days now, Sir Caroline. We have the same home. We even have the same weird, complicated relationship with that home, and it is literally your job to help me, and guess what? I’ve known this witch for less than an hour and I still have more reasons to trust her than you! You failed.

CAROLINE: (HUFFS)

RILLA: Quanyii.

QUANYII: Hm? Oh, am I invited to the party again?

RILLA: I want to take your deal. We’ll… figure out payment later. Just get us out of here.

QUANYII:

In the interest of fairness, I should warn you: it’s not going to be easy. The Judge’s sweet little boogers brought the lizard deep within these halls: to Fort Terminus. (GIGGLES) But that shouldn’t be bad news for you, Sir, should it? That sounds like exactly like what you wanted, in fact. And I can be very good at giving people what… they… want.

CAROLINE: Yes. Fine. Let’s just go.

QUANYII: Oohhh, a jailbreak, just us girls! How exciting!

SOUND: CLAPS.

Alright, then! Hocus pocus, ladies.

SOUND: HARP STRUMS. DOOR UNLOCKS, CREAKS OPEN.

Now let's go have some fun.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING, MUSIC.

CONDUCTOR: If you’ve enjoyed this tale, please consider donating to The Penumbra on Patreon. Our artists work tirelessly to bring you these stories, and if you have the means, we hope you will support our efforts. Every dollar helps. You can find that page at patreon.com/thepenumbrapodcast. If you support us on Patreon at the $10 level or higher, you’ll receive access to commentary tracks like this one, from actors Jason Mellin, M Sutherland, Matthew Zahnzinger, and Glenn Moore:

SOUND: TRAIN STOPS, DOOR SLIDES OPEN, RAIN.

JASON: …there’s also all these additional characters: the Judge, uh, Porcus and Trotter– y’know all of these different smaller characters are finally gonna show up. So what I wanna know from you guys is – either as actor or like, from your character’s perspective, either one – we are definitely spiraling, ah yeah, there it is, uh, towards a narrative… point here, um, which is specifically, all of our characters getting to meet Lord Arum. So, I’m curious what—

MATTHEW: Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

JASON: —what are you, uh, hoping will happen…

SOUND: DOOR SLIDES SHUT.

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This tale, the Spiral Sage, was told by the following people: M Sutherland as Sir Angelo, Jason Mellin as Talfryn, Matthew Zahnzinger as Sir Damien, Melissa Ennulat as Rilla, Leslie Drescher as Sir Caroline, Melissa DeJesus as Quanyii, Glen Moore as Judge Helicoid, Stewart Evan Smith as Porcus, Michael Underhill as Trotter, Kate Jones as the Bailiff, and Joshua Ilon, Kat Buckingham, and Simon Moody as the ensemble.

The Penumbra is created and produced by Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert. If you wish to know more about our ever-expanding, infinitely-creative team of artists, musicians, editors, designers, and managers, you can read about them in the show notes of this episode.

I’m afraid this is the end of the line for today, dear Traveler. We hope you will ride with The Penumbra again soon.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

#second citadel

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routerground6-blog · 6 years ago

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Bears mailbag: A 6-3 start, will Adam Shaheen return this week, Jordan Howard’s future and a struggling running game

The Chicago Bears are 6-3 and off to their best start since former head coach Marc Trestman’s first season back in 2013. After a convincing 34-22 win over a division foe in the Detroit Lions, they’ll stay at home to host the Minnesota Vikings on what is the biggest game for this franchise in quite some time.

Division games have been a problem for the Bears in recent memory, but the hope is that Sunday’s dominating win will provide a spark. That spark is going to be a vital key for any post season aspirations they might have in the coming weeks.

Optimism is at an all-time high, but Sunday night will show football fans all around the country what kind of football team the Bears really are. With optimism and excitement comes questions, and with questions come answers. So without further adieu, let’s dive into Week 11’s mailbag.

I’d say there’s a strong chance that the Bears will activate Shaheen before the 3pm central deadline on Saturday. Last Friday, head coach Matt Nagy disclosed the team had not made a decision on the second-year tight end but it seemed pretty evident, judging by some of Nagy’s comments, that they didn’t think he was quite ready.

This week is a different story. It will be his second week of practice and this is a much bigger game than a week ago. Regardless of what happens with Dion Sims, I would fully expect Shaheen to not only be active but see 15-20 snaps on Sunday night.

Photo by Jonathan Daniel/Getty Images

One thing to keep in mind is that if he returns on Sunday night, they have a very short turn around before they play once again on Thanksgiving morning. Couple that with Shaheen returning to his first game action since late August and you’ll probably see him on some sort of pitch count. With all of that being said, make no mistake about it, he will be a big part of this offense moving forward. That also means we’ll likely see less of Sims.

It will also be interesting to see who they cut because they do have to clear a roster spot to activate Shaheen.

In a perfect world where cap space didn’t matter, absolutely. I think Le’Veon Bell would be a perfect fit in this offense.

In a realistic world? I don’t see them spending $15 million-plus on a running back any time soon, especially when they’ve already got a guy like Khalil Mack on the books for an average of $23.5 million per year and are a few seasons away from having to pay Mitchell Trubisky.

I will say is this on Jordan Howard, though, I think it’s becoming pretty apparent that he’s not a fit for this offense, and I don’t think it’s even really his fault. This offense calls for a running back that needs better athleticism, better pass catching ability, and just an all around better three-down back type of skill-set.

It’ll be interesting to see how they handle it this off-season but I’ll go on record as saying I’d be pretty surprised if Howard is on the 2019 Week 1 roster.

I’ve got two guesses on this matter.

My first would be Daniel Brown. As much as I like Brown, Ben Braunecker is not only the better special teamer, but has seen more snaps in Shaheen’s and now Dion Sims’ absence.

My second guess would be Kevin White. For as much as we’ve all wanted White to work out, his time in Chicago is close to done, if not all the way gone. He’s been a healthy scratch the past two games and it may make sense just to cut bait with him, if they value Brown over him. He’s not in their future plans.

There’s three issues to the Bears running game right now, in my opinion.

Fit - I don’t think Howard fits this offense very well. Whether it’s due to lack of athleticism and ability to make sudden cuts in the backfield, or the fact that his blocking and catching don’t make him a true three-down back.

Scheme change - The past few years, the Bears have been primarily a zone running team. This year, we’re seeing more of a complex plan with new offensive line coach Harry Hiestand. It’s more of a hybrid blocking front and the way it’s meshed with Nagy’s play calling has made things look repetitive and to a certain extent, predictable.

Lack of creativity - Nagy said on Monday that contrary to popular belief, he loves to run the ball. That may be true, but like you pointed out, there hasn’t been a ton of creativity with Howard. He’s always been a better runner out of shotgun but there’s been very little outside runs that Howard has been involved in.

Overall, I don’t know that this is something that is just magically going to fix itself during the season, but it’s a main reason why I believe Howard is playing his final season for the team.

To be completely honest, I haven’t seen much of an influence from Helfrich, and that could be because Nagy has taken small concepts and mixed them in with his version of the West Coast style offense.

It’s worth noting that Andy Reid had plenty of “college concepts” within his offense and has for years now. It’s one of the main reasons he’s regarded as one of the best offensive minds in football. That has obviously translated over to Nagy as well, but in terms of what Helfrich has been able to do, I’m not sure I see much, so it’s hard for me to speak on it.

Whatever they are doing though, it’s working and I’d expect it to continue to get better.

The amount of skepticism the Bears have been met with so far this year has been somewhat surprising but to a certain extent, justified.

In situations like these, I try to put myself on the outside. The first thing Bears fans have to realize is that regardless of what most people say, they aren’t watching each and every game the same way that fans are. I’d say that under 40% of national analysts that have an opinion on the Bears have actually watched every minute of football they’ve played this year. That’s important to remember. While it may be coming from an educated source, it doesn’t mean they are always seeing the entire picture.

Second, the Bears were a 5-11 team a year ago. On top of that, most thought general manager Ryan Pace should have been fired, and most people hated the team trading up for Trubisky last April. The Bears haven’t finished over .500 since 2012 and have been through 3 head coaches and two general managers since that point. Meaning, there’s been plenty of perception built over a long period of time that the Bears are a bad team and a “disaster” of a franchise, as some have put it.

You combine those two together with the fact that the Bears (like many teams) haven’t beat a team currently over .500 and you’ll be met with skepticism.

The NFL is a weird thing. When teams stay good or bad for long periods of time, it takes a while for the perception to change but once that perception does chance, recency bias tends to kick in and those same people who called that team bad, now can’t remember those feelings for the years that they had them.

Long story short, all the Bears have to do is keep winning games. They are (6-3) with a chance to get to (7-3) with a win on Sunday night. Big wins in prime time slots seem to change perceptions quite quickly and let’s not forget, the Bears with Trubisky haven’t exactly been good in prime time (where many more people are watching), which leads a lot of casual fans to believe teams are different than they are. If they win these next two games, you’ll see the majority of skeptics buy in.

This was a great question and it took me quite a bit of time to look it up, but thankfully our resident NFL historian is a Pro Football Reference wizard, so he took the lead.

Source: https://www.windycitygridiron.com/2018/11/14/18091342/chicago-bears-mailbag-a-6-3-start-will-adam-shaheen-return-this-week-jordan-howard-kevin-white-nfl

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spryfilm · 6 years ago

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“My Friend Dahmer” (2017)

Drama/Thriller

Running Time: 107 minutes

Written & directed by: Marc Meyers

Featuring: Ross Lynch, Alex Wolff, Dallas Roberts, and Anne Heche

Jeffrey Dahmer: I’m just like anybody else.

This week sees the release on DVD of a movie centered on part of the adolescent life of now dead serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer in the interestingly titled “My Friend Dahmer” (2017) which was initially a graphic novel by childhood friend Derf Backderf . Backderf examined his friendship with Dahmer which included an empathetic portrait of Dahmer as a lonely young man, tormented by inner demons, ridiculed by bullies at school, and neglected by the adults in his life. The graphic novel recalls Dahmer’s isolation, his binge drinking, his bizarre behaviour to get attention, and his disturbing fascination with road kill. Derf and his friends encouraged Dahmer to act out, including faking epileptic seizures in school and the mall and pretending to have cerebral palsy, Dahmer did this to fit in with his peers.

Interestingly this movie feels not to far from its origins with its subtle characterisation, its deliberate pace, the way in which real people are treated as three dimensional characters and not just background props to be juxtaposed against Dahmer who is the central character as well as the one person the audience is supposed to concentrate on. What I enjoyed about this movie is that it paints the picture of someone real, not an arch character that we are supposed to vilify from the beginning. As with real life people are shaped by a variety of influences, I found myself wanting to reach out and shake the people around Dahmer to open their eyes to the person that he is slowly becoming. Unlike other movies about serial killers this one is almost sympathetic as it attempts to understand Dahmer in his earlier years, not in adulthood when many other similarly themed genre movies are set, when the killer is carrying out his crimes. That is why “My Friend Dahmer” is more drama than anything else with hints of horror in terms of his fascination with death and taxidermy. In fact I would say that this is one of the better films that deals directly with serial killers because of two main elements; its origins as well as the fact that is was originally written by someone who knew Dahmer at the time, and the fact that this is not a sensationalist film in the slightest, it also makes sure not to sugar coat or make you feel sympathy for the antagonist, it represents elements of the time period almost objectively which besides the performances is possibly its greatest strength.

Adapted and directed by Marc Meyers “My Friend Dahmer” has to be seen as a real breakthrough as it deals with some very serious issues as well as being based on a real person who committed some extremely atrocious murders. There is no doubt that this would have been a challenging film to make, especially in terms of honouring the real people involved as well as the very fact that anyone viewing this knows what the future holds for Dahmer so this will not be surprise. For me the key is how the film has been directed as well as how it deals with the motivations of all those involved which gives a clue as to almost everyone’s decision making, and it is a period piece which would normally mean a large budget, which this movie did not have. The deliberate, steady pace of this film underpins the frustration that is felt by not only Jeffrey Dahmer, but indeed the rest of his family as they all struggle to not only deal with their own lives but with each other, this is not a happy family that do not communicate with each other at all, with the central issue being Dahmer’s mothers mental issues that take their toll on the entire family. This is coupled and exacerbated by the vast amount of time Dahmer is able to spend by himself and his adolescent yearnings that he has no clue how to deal with. The director in my mind does not shy away from the role that Dahmers family played in his creation as a killer and not just a confused teenager, which I am sure many people will understand.

The film begins in 1974; Jeffrey Dahmer is a high school freshman living in Bath, Ohio, with his parents, Lionel and Joyce, and his little brother, Dave. For a hobby, Jeffrey collects dead animals that he dissolves to the bones using chemicals provided by his father, who is a chemist. This hobby is initiated by his obsessive interest in how animals are “fitted together”.

In 1978, Lionel trashes Jeffrey’s collection of bones and orders him to make friends at school. During school, Jeffrey imitates spasms, clears his backpack, and makes loud noises, catching the attention of aspiring artist John “Derf” Backderf and his friends. Jeffrey inspires Derf to draw him in various situations; drawings that would later form Derf’s graphic novel My Friend Dahmer. Derf and his friends form the “Dahmer Fan Club,” using Jeffrey for a variety of pranks such as sneaking him in every club yearbook photo. Meanwhile, Joyce starts relapsing into chronic mental illness, leading to increasingly bitter fights between her and Lionel. To cope, Jeffrey turns to drinking heavily, and begins killing animals himself. From these points we follow Jeffrey on his road to a breakdown that drives him toward the life he will eventually have, with the movie ending on his first time killing a hitcher, although we do not see this onscreen.

“My Friend Dahmer” would not be a success without a lead actor that could not only understand the person his is portraying but could also offer a performance that was at once menacing but also innocent as well, in actor Ross Lynch who is relatively unknown they have found someone who is able to this and more. Lynch is believable in his part having to not only be a presence onscreen but has to almost play a few characters as he shows different faces to different people in his life, not only that but he has to be incredibly physical as well. The other two actors that are worth mentioning are Alex Wolff as Derf Backderf and Anne Heche as Jeffrey’s mother, both play their parts expertly with enough differentiation within each performance to make them extremely watchable. Heche is one of those actors who has been around for such a long time as well as appearing in so many different parts that it is easy to overlook how good an actor she is but here we are reminded. Wolff on the other hand is a relative newcomer but has proven he is exceptionally gifted with his role in this years “Hereditary” (2018) to prove that point.

This film is exactly the type of character study that should be produced when looking at serial killers as it shows another side of them as well not reducing them to what we have seen for the past five decades which is the slash and burn movie, that not only denigrates the victims but in most cases elevates the killers. As this has been generated by someone that new Dahmer before, or as he become a killer we are viewing that person at least once removed as well as objectively, or as much as can be considering we are aware of who he will ultimately become and what he will do.

I for one was surprised by how this movie was constructed as well as the effect it had on me, I could at least begin to understand how Dahmer was created although I do not excuse this or forgive his actions as he still committed them and I for one believe he knew what he was doing. This is a very film and one I would recommend although it does contain scenes that may disturb.

“My Friend Dahmer” is out now on DVD.

My Friend Dahmer – Teaser (screen grab) CR: FilmRise Releasing

DVD review: “My Friend Dahmer” (2017) "My Friend Dahmer" (2017) Drama/Thriller Running Time: 107 minutes Written & directed by: Marc Meyers Featuring: Ross Lynch, Alex Wolff, Dallas Roberts, and Anne Heche…

#Alex Wolff #Anne Heche #Dallas Roberts #dvd #dvd review #DVD reviews #DVDReviews #Marc Meyers #My Friend Dahmer #My Friend Dahmer dvd #My Friend Dahmer dvd review #My Friend Dahmer review #Ross Lynch #serial killer

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amyadamsnews · 6 years ago

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Amy Adams on equal pay, family life and her grittiest role to date

In a corner of the genteel lounge of Los Angeles’s iconic Chateau Marmont, Amy Adams is launching into the opening lines of the Abba classic The Winner Takes It All – and it’s pitch-perfect. With other Hollywood actors, this tuneful showcase of talent, five minutes into an interview, might come across as showing off.

But the star of American Hustle, Nocturnal Animals and Arrival – a five-time Academy Award nominee and the recipient of two Golden Globes – seems atypically unstarry. Our conversation has simply prompted a demo of one of her great passions: karaoke.

Fresh-faced and freckled, today, the 43-year-old is dressed casually in jeans and a peach blouse, her red hair pulled into a loose ponytail. In spite of her success on the big screen, you might not recognise her if she strolled past you on the street.

She’s one of the most in-demand actors in Hollywood, skilled at switching between roles – from wide-eyed and vulnerable in Junebug, which launched her leading-lady career, through tough-talking and trashy in The Fighter, to religious fanatic in The Master and – most memorably – sexy, seductive con artist in American Hustle.

Amy’s latest part looks set to make her more immediately familiar, however. Next month, she stars in HBO’s hotly anticipated new mini-series Sharp Objects, an adaptation of the novel by Gillian Flynn, author of the bestselling thriller Gone Girl. ‘I’ve been attracted to Gillian’s work for years, because she creates these incredible, flawed females,’ she says.

Directed by Jean-Marc Vallée (who also directed last year’s critically acclaimed TV hit Big Little Lies), Sharp Objects is set in small-town Missouri, where restraint, manners and strong cocktails mask brutal violence and deep dysfunction.

Amy plays what is easily her darkest, most damaged character to date: Camille Preaker, the acerbic, alcoholic, self-harming protagonist. Recently released from a psychiatric unit, Camille, a reporter, is dispatched to Wind Gap, the town in which she grew up, to investigate the murder of two pre-teen girls.

It quickly becomes clear that the intense pain that affects her also infests the other women in her family – her uptight, neurotic mother, Adora (Patricia Clarkson) and her manipulative younger half-sister, Amma (star-in-the-making Eliza Scanlen).

As is becoming increasingly common among Hollywood’s leading ladies, Amy was also an executive producer on the series. It was she who suggested French-Canadian director Vallée. ‘There’s something about the way he tells women’s pain: he circles around it, yet gets to the heart of it,’ she says.

‘He’s not afraid to approach the violence in a way that’s also very emotional.’ For his part, Vallée praises Amy’s bravery in taking on bleak themes. ‘It was scary material, and she was so courageous to tackle this, to be so naked – literally and metaphorically,’ he says.

To help her dig into the darkness, Gillian Flynn recommended she read A Bright Red Scream. ‘It’s first-person accounts by people who self-harm,’ explains Amy, who had to wear prosthetic scars from the neck down during filming. She admits it wasn’t easy to leave Camille behind at the end of each day. ‘I’ve trained myself not to bring a character home, but there were times – whether from living in her head space or just exhaustion – when I suffered insomnia.’

The role also required her to research the psychological condition Munchausen syndrome by proxy, which causes a parent to harm their son or daughter to create the illusion that the child is ill. ‘I did a lot of reading about that too,’ says Amy. ‘It’s so against every parental instinct I have, so I just can’t imagine it. Our daughter [seven-year-old Aviana] has been hurt twice in a way that required trips to the hospital and that’s not something I’d ever want to revisit – it was traumatising.’

Happily, both Amy’s disposition – upbeat, energetic and quick to laugh – and her family life would appear to be a far cry from Camille’s. She and her husband, Darren Le Gallo, met in 2001, at an acting class in Los Angeles, and today live in the city’s glamorous Hollywood Hills. She describes their life as ‘quiet’, save for the odd karaoke night out, or in – the family’s portable karaoke machine even accompanies them on holiday.

When Amy travels for work, her husband and daughter generally go with her. ‘If I’m on my own, I engage in not-great behaviours, like hotel-room eating – sitting in bed every night with a bag of crisps and salsa and a beer,’ she admits.

The middle child of seven, Amy was born on a military base in Vicenza, Italy, where her father was stationed at the time. Her parents were Mormons and, although their adherence to the faith was ‘more cultural’ than overtly religious, ‘church played an important part in our social interactions’, she has said. ‘It instilled in me a value system I still hold true.’

The family eventually settled in Castle Rock, Colorado, when Amy was eight, where her father, having left the army, began singing professionally in nightclubs and restaurants. The rest of her family was more sport-orientated. ‘I was surrounded by these incredibly coordinated siblings who excelled at everything, whereas I just liked to read in my room,’ she laughs.

Her parents divorced when she was 11, and left Mormonism. Her mother, Kathryn, a former gymnast, was also, for a while, an amateur bodybuilder. ‘We have a good relationship, but my mom is tough and always challenged me to push myself,’ says Amy. ‘I wasn’t allowed to be afraid of things, even though I’m naturally very risk-averse. For instance, if a guy pulled up on a motorcycle, I’d be like [adopts goody-goody voice], “Don’t you understand that those are just coffins on wheels?”’

When her mother would take her to her gymnastics class, she goes on, ‘She would say: “We’re not leaving until you do this really tricky move.” That taught me to do things I was afraid of, because the sense of pride in having done something difficult was always worth it.’ It’s a skill that appears to have served her well in her career.

‘I had a kind of autonomy from childhood on,’ she continues. ‘There were so many of us that I knew my parents weren’t going to be funding my life, meaning my choices were my own and I wasn’t worried about what they thought of them.’

She gave up gymnastics, focused instead on dance and trained at a local ballet school. At 18, however, she decided she wasn’t good enough and switched her focus to musical theatre. She worked in dinner theatre for a few years before scoring a chance to audition for Drop Dead Gorgeous, the 1999 beauty-pageant comedy starring Kirstie Alley and Kirsten Dunst, in which Amy played a promiscuous cheerleader.

With Alley’s encouragement, at 24, Amy moved to Los Angeles, where her first few years attempting to break into the industry weren’t easy. ‘I auditioned a lot, but couldn’t figure out why it wasn’t working,’ she has said. ‘The problem was a lack of confidence and self-esteem,’ she tells me today.

In 2004, she was cast as the lead in the CBS series Dr Vegas, alongside Rob Lowe, but the show was dropped after just a few episodes. At that point, she considered quitting the industry.

‘I began thinking I should do something that was more secure,’ she says. ‘I wasn’t willing to be as unhappy as I was in danger of becoming and I didn’t like what it was turning me into.’

Then her fortunes began to turn around. In 2005, she was cast as the lead, Ashley, in the indie comedy Junebug. Her portrayal of the garrulous pregnant woman won her the Special Jury Prize at the Sundance Film Festival, and two years later, scored her the part of Giselle, the optimistic princess, in Enchanted.

Achieving success at 31, rather than 21, has its advantages, she now believes. ‘At least I was able to enjoy my 20s before anyone was paying me too much attention,’ she sighs, nostalgically. ‘No Instagram, no Twitter, no Facebook – thank God! I had a bad habit of taking photos on disposable cameras that didn’t belong to me. I have no idea how many complete strangers’ cameras I mooned into back then!’ she laughs.

Since the downfall of Harvey Weinstein and the rise of the #MeToo movement, are there incidents from early in her career that she feels she wouldn’t be OK with now?

‘Yes, and I wasn’t OK with it back then either,’ she says. ‘I had to audition in a bikini. I didn’t get the role, because the character would be filmed wearing one and I don’t look good in swimwear.’

I scoff at this claim. ‘I really don’t,’ she insists. ‘And that’s OK – that’s not why I was put on this earth. But I don’t know a single woman, working in any industry, who doesn’t have a story like that, about feeling vulnerable.’

I wonder whether, beneath her sanguine exterior, some of the self-esteem issues she mentioned earlier still lurk. Despite being petite, Amy is surprisingly self-deprecating about her body.

‘I always look pregnant in photos,’ she claims with a laugh. ‘I wear loose dresses because I have a paunch. It’s not a big paunch, but it’s there!’ And she’s less than comfortable being snapped on the red carpet. ‘I understand it’s part of the job, but it’s not my favourite place,’ she has said.

‘I love fashion, but having to be somebody who promotes that industry has always been a tricky one for me, because of the way it affects women’s sense of self,’ she says. ‘I’ve lectured several designers about their sizing. If a dress in my size is five inches too small for me, what’s happening?’

Even before the #MeToo and Time’s Up movements began, Amy was catapulted into the centre of rows about sexism within the industry. When thousands of email accounts at Sony were hacked in 2014, the revelations about American Hustle focused mainly on the fact that Amy and her co-star Jennifer Lawrence were paid less than their male counterparts, Bradley Cooper and Christian Bale.

At the time, she chose not to comment. ‘Everyone wanted me to talk about how I felt about it, but I want to fight for people outside our industry, so to come out and look ungrateful about what I’m paid as an actress just didn’t feel right,’ she says today.

‘I do believe in equal pay, but let’s start with our teachers. Let’s get waiters paid the minimum wage. That’s what’s great about what’s happening with Time’s Up – we’re starting to have bigger conversations than just about what’s happening in Hollywood.’

Other emails were also leaked, alleging that the film’s director, David O Russell, was so tough on Amy that Bale stepped in to address the problem. ‘He was hard on me, that’s for sure. It was a lot,’ Amy later said, and she has admitted in interviews that she cried ‘most days’ during the making of the film. ‘I remember saying to my husband, “If I can’t figure this out, I can’t work any more. I’ll just have to do something else. I don’t want to be that person, not for my daughter,”’ she has said.

When she talks about coping during the making of Sharp Objects, it’s clear that she was determined for it to be a very different experience. ‘I’m now able to think, “OK, I know what’s going on here. I just need to go to work, do my job, then come home, make dinner and do something grounding.”’

She was recently reunited with Bale for the upcoming biopic Backseat, about former US vice-president Dick Cheney. She whips out her phone to show me an image of her in character as his wife, Lynne, alongside Bale, who played Cheney, and both are virtually unrecognisable thanks to extensive prosthetics.

The lengthy process of transformation renewed her respect for her co-star. ‘I had to wear the prosthetics for only two weeks, but Christian was coming in at 2am every day to have his applied before the day’s filming started. His work ethic is just incredible.’

Amy is keen to do more producing, too. ‘There’s lots in pencil on the calendar, but I don’t talk about anything until it’s in pen,’ she says. Risk-averse to the end. And with that, she gives me her top karaoke-bar tips and slips back to her quiet life in the hills.

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/life/amy-adams-equal-pay-family-life-grittiest-role-date/#comments

#amy adams #telegraph #sharp objects #hbo #gillian flynn #jean marc vallee #cheney #christian bale

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