#like unless it would take away from the integrity of the song/want to save it for certain settings idk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mirrorforevers · 4 years ago

Text

here, there, and everywhere • graham coxon/reader

this fic is based on two prompts y'all sent me:

and

this fic really tested all of my blur knowledge holy Fuck. blur as talking heads au i guess. how cool would it be if they

1. had a girl bassist instead of the cheese tory dude

2. werent as unhappy as they were in the mid 90s (just a bit)

3. were just a little 🤏🏻 bit more female friendly lets just pretend this is a universe where the blurjob passes didnt exist heh

it took me everything i had to make this sound as realistic as it could be. u know these girls who think they could fix patrick bateman or don draper? perhaps y’all could fix blur

consider this a gift n not only me writing for your prompt, @nottuned! thank u so much for all your support n encouragement n for always bein so sweet 🥺 i hope u enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

let’s see how many references to unfortunate britpop moments y’all can find in this

also i hope i captured the silliness of the gossip and drama in that era well. if you enjoyed it, please leave an ask telling me more! ur feedback is rly important to me 😔✊🏻

tw (?) reader has shitty parents

word count: 7.938 (this one's quite long!)

smut. set in the 90s. au.

You were unlocking your door when you heard your house phone ring. The shrill sound echoed through the empty corridors as you hurriedly unwrapped your scarf, tossing your keys and backpack on nearby furniture as you ran to answer the call.

“Hello?” You answer, panting.

“Y/N?”

“Dave?” You smile, that call was a very welcome surprise. Your friend owed you an answer.

A few weeks ago, Dave Rowntree, your music classmate who became a close friend, told you that he had teamed up with two other proficient musicians to form a band. Dave was ecstatic, and every day he had new stories about his new friends to tell you between breakfasts and lunches that you shared between the countless hours of rehearsals. Even though you weren't part of the group, you already felt that you knew Damon and Graham like the back of your hand. Yin and Yang. One was expansive, ambitious, vain, impulsive. The other, shy, introspective, anxious and careful.

Damon Albarn wanted to be an actor, Graham Coxon had a firm foot in the visual arts. One was a fan of grand classical compositions, the other was a Beatles fan. They had been friends since they were children, in a seemingly unbreakable bond. Damon dropped out of his theater class not only because out of a sudden he had found a bigger calling in music instead of acting, but also because he couldn't stand being away from his best friend for so long. You found yourself often imagining their faces and voices while trying to make all of the wild and endearingly funny stories Dave told you more tangible in your head.

It was not long before Dave started dropping little hints that they needed someone else for their project. “It’s not that Graham isn’t good at bass,” he’d say, “but we could do better.” It wasn't at the top of your plans to be part of a band right now, especially as you were preparing intensely to join the Royal Academy of Music, and he knew it. When you mentioned the conversations you had with Dave about the boys on your family dinner, in quiet wonder and timid want of being part of something really exciting, your parents wrinkled their noses. Focus on the greater things, they’d say. Don’t let these boys distract you from your goal.

Our goal, they meant to say. Since you were born, you never knew if the things you wanted were really your will or theirs.

But anyway.

That dynamic went on for a while, until the day Dave invited you to audition for them while you shared a Diet Coke in the tube home.

“Will it take too much of my time?” You asked, coyly.

“Bold of you to assume we’ll let you in that quickly.” He chuckles, amused by your confidence. You playfully elbow him in return. He knew how good you were at what you did, though, and there’s lightness in his tone when he continues, “But no, unless you let it. You’ll probably have to stand up to Damon every once in a while.” He sips the drink, handing it over to you.

“What about Graham? How much is he determined to make it big?”

“Damon’s the one who wants it the most. Graham’s studying Fine Arts at Goldsmiths, so. There’s still cautiousness in him.”

“Huh. Okay then.” You reply, thoughts running wild. “Do we have a time and date?”

“Is tomorrow ok to you?”

“Sure. After our class?”

“Perfect.” The train reaches his station. He ruffles your hair: “See you tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

You don’t tell anything about it to your parents, you just warn them that you’ll arrive a bit later than usual. Dave’s intel was crucial to your choice of songs: knowing Graham was the beatlemaniac and also the rational brake to Damon’s tireless ambition, you knew who to please and have as an ally, so you build an innovative and fresh mashup of Paul McCartney’s greatest basslines to play for them. Of course it could backfire, but you didn’t care. You had a hell of a good ear anyway and if Damon wanted you to play anything out of the blue, you would improvise beautifully over it.

The day comes. You didn’t know why you were that nervous for an amateur audition. You weren’t even sure if it was the right path to follow, given that, depending on how focused Damon really was and how contagious his aspiration was, being part of a band could really take you out of your predestinated course. The reason why you were so nervous, now thinking a little more about it, may be because deep inside, you want your path to be a little less predictable. You didn’t want to fill your heart with hopes that you might make it big and travel all over the world because you didn’t even know them. But… what if it clicks? You knew some people in the scene whose work was getting seriously recognized out there.

Meeting them for the first time was an enigmatic experience. Damon was incredibly brash and cocky - not the first theater kid you’ve met in your life. Graham was way more approachable, though also a bit conceited when pushed just right. You wondered if you’d fit in that boys’ club, and decided you wouldn’t be an easy target for discredit or any kind of shit they might give you. “Took me a while to fully get their trust. You’ll do just fine”, Dave said, out of their earshot.

That gave you more fuel to play amazingly well. Damon definitely wasn’t one to be impressed quickly, but he was, when you finished your set. So was Graham - Graham was starry eyed with your performance, actually. Albarn showed you a song and asked you if you could improvise to it, just as you imagined. Of course you could, on the first play. You even suggested some adjustments to its structure. Your feedback was welcomed and noted.

Even though everything went surprisingly well, you still weren't sure if you would be a member of “Seymour”, as they called themselves. (You knew it wasn’t the best name, but you didn’t have a better suggestion at the time so you’ve kept your opinion to yourself.) Graham became eerily quiet out of a sudden and wouldn’t cross eyes with you the entire time you were there. Damon, well, was Damon. Perhaps he thought you were too ordinary and mainstream for deciding to play Beatles when he’s trying to be the new avant-garde Jesus.

But Dave's news was different than you expected. “They really, really enjoyed your audition. As I thought they would.” You can hear the smile in his voice. "When can you rehearse with us?"

Months after, on your first gig as a fully formed and integrated band, Damon was hit in the face by a guy twice his size, Graham vomited onstage and you and Dave had to take care of both. A beautiful way to close the already exquisite day you had, after you fought with your parents, got kicked out of your childhood home and gave up on entering the Royal Academy of Music two days after you received your acceptance letter featuring rave reviews of your entrance exam.

Dealing with these boys - no, grown-ass men - was hard, but not completely unpleasant. If it were totally unpleasant, you wouldn’t give up on your entire life to embark on such an adventure.

You - plural you - were so gifted and Damon’s compositions were so good. You could see that artsy pretentious mess of an act going somewhere. Of course, you were a bit lost in your life, but so were they, as you ran from city to city meeting new people and trying new things in your journey to fame.

Loneliness, once a close friend, became a distant acquaintance. One you didn’t know anymore.

You confess you were getting worried, though, with how much money you had left on your savings and how much you were spending lately now that your parents weren’t an active part of your life. Wanting to eat something you cannot dream of buying without that money being really useful in a much more critical situation, not having nearly enough money to replace something important that broke or got torn off was frustrating. Some basic things became luxuries out of a sudden.

One day in particular, you very briefly mentioned that you were dying to eat a slice of chocolate cake, but your voice was so small and everyone was so immersed in their duties you thought no one gave two shits to what you said. Two days later, Graham arrived late at rehearsal with a small chocolate cake in his hands, handing it over to you like it was a completely ordinary act. Nothing in the way he acted told you he expected a reward, it was so natural and… gentle. You knew no one in your band could buy a chocolate cake without it being apocalyptic to their personal finances during that time.

That day, you were assured by fate that feeling lost together was better than feeling guided alone.

The band finally got on track - strictly musically speaking. Personally speaking, many contemporaries who followed you at parties and other events described you as an ever-growing odd, annoying and intermittently disarming bunch - and Blur and its members became household names, at least in the UK. It became harder and harder everyday to impose yourself as an entire industry and its target public aimed to tear you down. Men couldn’t understand.

(Graham Coxon was the one who tried the hardest to.)

It was four in the morning. You’ve got used to following your bandmates to hospitals, running away from trouble or knowing when to relish in it. But it was the first time you offered yourself to clean up dried blood from one’s face, given how much you hated seeing the fluid and even fainted when younger whenever exposed to it.

You, so delicately, wipe the saline solution-soaked cotton across Graham’s face, who flinches at the cold sensation on his still sensitive skin. He stares at you with the eyes of a child, and you couldn’t help but give him a slight, warm smile in return, which he retributes. Your face conveyed gratitude and affection towards the one you were taking care of. Your hands still struggled to stay completely still after the surge of adrenaline your body received a few hours ago.

Being the only girl in a massive band, and one the music magazines and mainstream media loved sexualizing, meant having paparazzis in your window in odd hours (not that that’s acceptable in any hour, but you had to lower your standards even more these days), meant having different photographers trying to pressure you to get into all kinds of uncomfortable angles with skimpy-ass dresses and just count on the intervention of your fellow bandmates so they would stop, also having invasive male fans who would try to harass you in any way they could.

Of course the day where one of your bandmates would get into a fist fight with one of these men inserted into these categories would come. And even though they were all protective of you, each in their own peculiar, increasingly contradictory way, Graham’s dedication to it was sometimes commendable.

You were making your way through a small corridor of people on your way to the stage when a random guy cupped one of your breasts. It’s not like the venue was incredibly tight, it could not have been on accident and it made your blood boil. You turned around to scream at him, and Graham, who was just behind you, threw a punch directly towards the man’s face, without thinking twice.

And oh boy, took a lot of people and a sweet amount of time to separate the two after that.

After all was said and done, Graham had a few scratches, a black eye and a cut brow. He kept dodging your many “sorrys”, “you didn’t have to do this” and other expressions of guilt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, he deserved it”, he kept assuring you, like a mantra, just giving in to your pleas when you supplicated to take care of his wounds during intermission and after the show.

“I get why you did what you did, Gra. I hate that you took such a risk because of me, but I understand.” you say, voice cracking from not using it for a while after spending some good minutes in complete silence taking care of him. “However,” you soak another cotton ball in the saline solution a roadie got you, punctuating the word with a squeeze to the cotton to remove excess liquid. “I was worried sick about you. What if he… had a knife or something? You could’ve got seriously injured. Or killed.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly able to have a good fight,” after wincing from the contact of the cold wet cotton with his dried blood, he purses his lips in a forced, shy smile, trying to light up the mood. He notices your hands are still shaking from the adrenaline, and takes one of them in his bigger ones, trying to calm you down. The fact that he did this for you, coupled with the fear and how tired you felt of having to go through that kind of situation once again, made you cry-laugh from how overwhelmed you felt.

His expression changes to one of pure compassion in an instant. “Hey, don’t--oh my,” he gets up from his chair to embrace you as you pour your frustrations through fat tears running down his shoulder.

“It’s so exhausting,” you mumble, through sobs. “Now I’m putting you in danger too. I feel like I did and I’m still doing everything wrong. I should be the one giving you a shoulder to cry on.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong! Anything at all, I promise you,” he says, tenderly, running his hands through your hair, still holding you tight. “It was his fault! I decided it was the right thing to do. You’re worth the risk. What people have been putting you through is unacceptable.”

“I’m not worth the risk!” You break apart from his arms, trying to get your point across. “What would I do without you if someone killed you? You need to be more careful!”

The silence hangs heavy between you two thanks to the weight of your words.

“You should’ve asked me before you lunged at him, at least. I don’t know.” You wipe your many tears as you move towards the nearest bottle of water to try to calm yourself down. “It’ll never end. I’m so afraid that these situations will get even worse. That,” you motion at his wounds and dirty clothes, “is a bloody tragedy. It’s a tragedy things escalated to this point. You can’t do that forever.”

“This is just a consequence. And something I would do for you in a heartbeat whenever necessary.”

“Graham, I don’t want you to get hurt because--”

“They hurt you. I won’t let you go through that alone. Besides,” he comes closer to you again. “As I already told you, I can take care of myself, most of the time.” He takes your face in his hands, his fingers so delicately running across your cheeks to dry your tears. You knew that gesture wasn’t his way of asking you for anything you weren’t ready to give him yet. He just wanted you to feel safe. “And I want to take care of you.”

“I’m the one cleaning your wounds.”

“A great partnership, I think.” Coxon chuckles softly, and finally gets a smile out of you. As he always does. “And they make me look cool, don’t you think?”

“Shut up.” You giggle, still feeling too emotional to return to the stage. You sigh: “Thank you for being there for me. You know I’m still not very used to it. Just please be safe.”

The roadie returns, a little flustered by interrupting your little moment together. “5 minutes and you’re back, guys.”

“Okay!” You both turn to answer her.

“I’ll be. No need to thank me for anything, Y/N.” He answers, giving your forehead a little kiss. “Let’s go.”

“Give me two minutes. I’ll be right behind you.”

“What’s it like, being the only woman in the band?”

Four eyerolls at once don’t seem to faze the interviewer. She waits for your response.

Apparently the thousand invasive questions regarding Damon’s love life and the same bullshit treatment of women as either rare specimen or sex dolls is what pleases the audience of music TV shows these days.

“What do you think?” is what you say.

“Must be a thrill to have these beautiful boys around you all the time. And we’ve heard you never even took advantage of it!”

You don’t like where this is heading. “Is that… a bad thing? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Perhaps some of our lady viewers might think it is. No judgement though!” She raises her hands. “You do you, it’s just that it’s quite unexpected to see prudes in non-Christian bands. I mean… from what we’ve heard.”

“I’m sorry? What are you trying to say? What did you hear?”

Her tongue clicks while she stares at you with defiance and mischief on her eyes, as she goes a little further and raises her voice so it can overlay yours. “Oh love. You do know what I’m talking about. There’s no need to be ashamed of being a virgin.”

Your cheek burns intensely and the only thing you wished for was for the ground to swallow you whole. Dave and Graham are especially uncomfortable. Damon’s a bit amused. The three knew almost everything there was to know about you. The one topic that surprisingly they didn’t know about is that you’re still a virgin.

They know you’ve been single for a long time. They know that’s part of what draws so much attention and twisted lore regarding you and your past, but that’s not something they felt they needed to know about you at all, and you truly never felt the need to comment about that with any of them, and they haven’t asked. Not even Mr. “the way to be successful in this game is to make all the boys wanna be you and all the girls wanna sleep with you. In your case that’d work in reverse” Damon Albarn.

“Is that even something that should be discussed in an interview about our music? Is that what your boss told you to ask her about?” Dave answers, his tone venomous.

“Musicians are way more than just music. You’re entertainment in every sense of the word.”

“Who told you that about me?” You asked, not sure if you want to know the answer.

“A lovely elderly lady who lives in Elgin Crescent. She knows you so well.”

That’s your mum. That’s how far low your relationship has degraded. You’re not surprised. That doesn’t feel less like a punch on your gut, but you don’t feel like tumbling again. Not today.

“I know who you’re talking about. Tell her I asked her to go fuck herself and burn in hell. In that order.”

“But that’s your--”

“Yes, she is my mum!” If people are going to expose you anyway, then why don’t you do it on your terms? “We’re truly entertainment in every sense of the word, aren’t we. Not everyone’s mum’s a cunt. Some of us aren’t that lucky.”

“You want to be the next Gallagher sister with the spicy remarks?”

“Not sure. But I do want to be the last person you ever get to interview.”

The management of the band wasn’t at all surprised your interview became UK’s topic of the week. People were heavily divided between family is family and we shouldn’t hate our relatives and blood isn’t everything, family can be shitty too. Your bandmates were proud of you. The management was angry but tried to understand, and didn’t press you for further explanations. They suggested a two-week break from everything so Blur could rest their image and start a fresh cycle after that, and you gracefully accepted it.

The whole thing seemed so ridiculous the more you thought about it. Did your mum tell the reporter about that gratuitously? What was their conversation like? How did that even happen?

You became the butt of jokes in some places. You saw other famous people doing challenges between them, countdowns, all sorts of crude remarks. What a pathetic, sad chapter of your career.

You dial Graham, and you feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

“Hey, Gra. It’s me.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He sounds pleasantly surprised. “How's it going?”

“Better, I guess. I have to take my mind off all that chaos though. Are you available right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been owing me a movie night for quite a while now and I miss spending time with you. Wanna come over?”

“Aww. Sure, I--um. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“I’m pretty sure I got everything we need here--ah… I think I don’t have any more beers.”

“I’ll buy some then. See ya in a few minutes.”

Actually, you couldn’t take all that chaos off your mind because that was the only thing in it. You’re feeling so nervous.

The main reasons sex wasn’t a priority for you until now were:

You didn’t have any real opportunities of losing your virginity in your teens. You were impossibly introspective until, like, 3, 4 years ago, and the way your family worked hasn’t really allowed you to get really close to people. Be it boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends. Anything that threatened to take time off the various tasks and classes your parents assigned to you just couldn’t be part of your life. To be honest, you still struggled a bit to form meaningful connections with people thanks to how you grew up.

The moment you stopped being shy, you noticed it was a real man’s world out there, especially in music, classical or not. You didn’t want anyone to think you fucked your way up to the top, you didn’t want any messy affairs. Also, you had yourself, and you didn’t get all of the hype regarding the concept of screwing someone. But apparently there’s a lot you’ve been missing, given the importance people seem to give to it. After that incident, even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t give in to any kind of misogynistic pressure, that was one that really got under your skin.

You never really found someone who you felt 100% safe with in that sense until the one who’s about to arrive at your house appeared in your life. Bloody hell, and you don’t even have anything romantic going on. By the time you were a Blur member, you’ve fooled around a bit, but not all the way. You knew how to kiss, knew how to touch yourself and even brought manual satisfaction to some random fool you thought you were into one time. But perhaps this is the time to go all the way. Why not? Everyone knew how close you two were. He made you feel special. He was so kind. And gorgeous. And--

You hear a knock on your door. It’s him. Beers in hand, hair somewhat in place, twitchy as ever.

He comes inside and you feel like your legs will give up anytime. It was not the first time he visited you. It was one of many, actually, and he noticed you were acting… different.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks after a brief dialogue between you two, after plating some snacks for both of you.

“Graham...” You sigh, being really careful with your words. “What is your perception of me?”

“My perception of you?” He smiles. “I… think you’re great. You’re fun to be around. You’re one of the best musicians I know, if not the best. Why are you asking me that?”

“N-nothing. It’s nothing. Also, I asked the wrong question. What was your first perception of me?”

“Uh… the day of your audition?”

“Exactly. You barely talked to me that day.”

His eyes lower to his own feet. “I was really timid, actually. I wasn’t used to being near any girl, especially one who… w-would spend so much time around me if everything went well.”

You giggle. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never!” his smile turns into a full blown laughter. You melt at his confession. “Also because it seemed like you were trying to read my mind or something.”

“Of course! Because I thought you hated me!” Now that was a laughter you two shared. You do a voice: “‘Why is that pesky girl trying to get in my band?’”

“My goodness, no! I don’t even sound like that - you know what, I changed my mind. You suck. Because, besides the fact you don’t even know what I sound like, you still haven’t told me why you are asking me that in the first place.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he slightly cornered you physically in one of the kitchen corridors. Graham could be really persuasive when he wanted to.

“Okay. Right. Um. I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”

“What, exactly?”

“Everything that happened this month. The great virginity debacle,” you roll your eyes, and he scoffs.

“You don’t own anyone any information about what you do or don't do with your life. Everyone’s being so invasive. That was incredibly childish of the reporter to do, and we talked about that hundreds of times.”

“Yeah, but… you know what, forget it.”

“Tell me, Y/N. I just said that because I want you to know you were not in the wrong.”

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s silly for me to�� keep closing myself for affection. Any kind of affection.”

“What are you talking about?” His brows furrowed in curiosity.

“I’m not sure if it’s the pressure that finally got under my skin, but… I’m willing to learn what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s silly that I’m still a virgin.”

He bites his lips, still processing what you just said, expression unreadable. Perhaps you’ve treaded a ground you shouldn’t. You step back both literally and figuratively. “I’m sorry I even brought that up--”

“No, no, don’t be.” He assures you. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all. I swear.”

“And...” You know what. You already went too far, so why not go all the way. You’ve already gone way past the point of no return. “I was wondering if… you would… popmycherry?”

His eyes widen, yours still closed. When you finally open them, he’s closer to you again.

If his head was a machine, you’re sure it would be releasing lots of steam and shaking due to overprocessing. You felt like you just ruined everything.

“Y/N, you don’t need to do it if you don’t really want to.”

“But I want it! At first I thought I didn’t, but then I thought...”

“I don’t want to be part of that if you’re just doing it to fulfill weird expectations.”

“But it’s not that. Not just... that. I asked about your perception of me because I really like you, Gra. I think we should be more than friends and I wanted to know what you think about me. And I want to know what the fuss is about, yes, but I’m not telling you that just so I can lose my virginity to prove some point. I’m telling you that because I like you, I want to kiss you, and I think it would be a great idea if you showed me what it’s like. Y-you know, sex.”

“I-I can’t believe it. Did you even have any movie in mind?” His smile’s back, but you’re still not confident about what his answer will be.

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. You don’t have to--”

He sighs. “I was in love with you the moment I first saw you, actually.” He says it like he’s releasing a huge load out of his back, his arms crossed. Now your eyes widen, and you hold your breath without even noticing. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I know how you feel, or, felt about relationships, so… there wasn’t any reason for me to tell you that. And what I said about being timid was just half of the truth.”

“Huh?”

“I also was really intimidated by how pretty you looked. You can’t imagine how.”

“No way.”

“It’s true. I felt like I wasn’t even worthy of looking at you, really.”

“You’re joking. That’s mean, Gra.”

“I’m not. I’m really not.” He doesn’t look like he is joking. He looks relieved. “I’m really not. That’s why I’m so surprised by your request.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“You are everything to me. But I can’t accept your offer, not now.”

“Are you… seeing someone? Am I too late?”

“No. Definitely not. I just want you to be sure you’re not doing it because people are saying you should.”

“Graham, I’m a grown woman.”

“I know.”

Graham carefully presses his slightly chapped lips to yours, kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds before pulling away; his voice is impossibly silky when he suggests, “Let’s watch a movie. How about The Godfather? I heard it’s airing tonight. Then, if in two weeks you don’t change your mind, tell me and I’ll be glad to help you with what you want. Do we have a deal?”

“That’s so unfair. I want you so bad.” You whisper.

“Tell me if you still do in two weeks.”

You sigh, defeated. “...Deal.”

You definitely notice the subtle shift in Graham’s personality and actions after that fateful night. If you were already close, both figuratively and literally, it now seemed like he would use any excuse to always touch you, be near you, sometimes tease you. The shift was subtle, though, don’t forget it’s still Graham Coxon we’re talking about - the constant “is it okay if”s or “is it alright if I”s were still there, as careful as ever. You don’t even talk about your deal that entire time, or even kiss again - sometimes you wondered if it was even real or just a fabrication of your mind.

The way he now caressed your hand discreetly when you listened to Damon’s ramblings, the way his hands now went directly to your waist when your games became too handsy, the way he seemed to be madly in love with everything you were and still are from the start - made you realize you were ready for this man to be a consistent part of your life.

The dust of the controversy was settled, and your own intentions were 100% clear to you now. The societal pressure has waned. The need for Graham to be your first persisted. After exactly 2 weeks have passed, you call him again, yearning to share the answer with him.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

Four beeps. “Hello?”

You release a sigh hidden deep inside of your lungs. “Graham, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh. It’s been two weeks.” You could hear the contemplative tone of his voice.

“...Yeah. That’s precisely the reason I’m calling you.”

“Do you still want to…?”

“...Desperately.”

“Ok.” He chuckles, flustered as hell on the other side of the phone, probably one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “Right. Ok. Your place or mine?”

“I think there’ll be an element of mystery if I go to your place this time.” You lose some of the constraints this silly shyness has been tying you on. “Do you have everything we might need there?”

“We don’t need a dungeon, you know.”

“The basics.” You make your smile heard.

“I do have… I do have the basics.”

“See you in a few minutes then.”

“Will you want to… ease into it? Or just go straight to it?”

“God, don’t make it awkward!” Your cheeks burn, your smile turning into contagious laughter. “Maybe… I don’t know. Ease into it, I guess? A movie night… but with s-something else?”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Alright then. See you.”

“See you.”

You don’t choose any particularly fancy or sexy clothes, instead settling for a slightly oversized yellow striped shirt he gave you as a birthday present some months ago and some skirt that fit you well. He wasn’t one to lavish his loved ones with gifts all the time, but few things were as precious as the look on his face whenever he saw you wearing something he gave you or, hell, even eating something he paid for you. You’re thrilled to see it again when he opens the door for you, it easing some of your deepest doubts.

2001: A Space Odyssey is already playing on the TV when you arrive. Despite it being one of your favorite movies of all time, and his, you’re not mad it was already halfway through when you arrived. It wasn’t your main priority to rewatch it for the 17th time tonight.

He offers you some wine, which you accept to ease the nerves. You sit on his couch, and he shares the cozy space with you, now mindlessly throwing one of his arms around your shoulders. You cuddle up to him, and everything seems peaceful in the world for a while.

The tip of his fingers softly caress your lifted knee, absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but notice how well his body fits with yours, how your skin was apparently made for him to touch, and the anxiety rumbles in your stomach like a storm in a wild wavy sea. After some minutes, you raise your head, his big brown eyes meeting yours as if asking you a silent question. You leaned up a bit more to press your lips to his, in a silent answer. The sweetness in him makes this moment as precious as every other moment you ever shared with him. His hands enter your hair, making you shiver a bit from the unfamiliarity and the electricity of it all - but it doesn’t sway you from deepening the kiss, wanting more of his taste, more of this, more of him.

“Do you wanna take this to the bed?” He whispers, after noticing your moans were becoming more frequent and needy. You nod, and you are taken by surprise when he carries you bridal style to it, hiding your excited giggles in his broad shoulders.

Graham wasn’t exactly the most organized man in the world - so the fact that his bedroom was now impossibly tidy was something that positively caught your attention. He put some planning into this. He lays you down and you part your legs, beckoning him to meet you between them. He does, and you go back to the breathtaking makeout session. You notice he’s holding himself back a bit, taking his time, his warm tongue moving smoothly, not hurriedly, against yours. His self control falters a bit though, given how he can’t stop grinding against you. You follow the rhythm of his hips a bit timidly and not nearly as in sync as you’d really like, though the pressure his covered cock is creating against your core can already be felt and some particular thrusts are able to fill at least partially the aching, wet need growing within you.

“How do you feel about oral?” He asks, breath warm near your ear, his voice raspy and spent by his desire for you.

“Um… It would be my first time receiving or doing it.”

“Would you like me to go down on you?”

“Wow. I never thought I would hear you saying something like that.” You smile, still assimilating the situation you’re in, trying not to show how badly his voice is affecting you. “Sure.”

“I never thought I would get to propose this to you. Aren’t we full of surprises lately.” He smiles back, warmly. He notices your hands trembling a bit from how anxious you are while you’re taking off your underwear with his help, and as he lowers himself to where you need him most, he takes your hands in his as an act of reassurance. “Tell me what you like. Tell me if what I’m doing works for you. I want this to be a great experience.”

“You want me to get addicted to you, that’s what you want,” He chuckles, lovingly kissing your thigh as a reply. “Okay, Gra. Guess I’ll find out along the way.”

You quickly take a peak below you to see the lower half of his face disappear in the middle of your thighs. The sight alone sets your fire ablaze, as he hooks his arms around your thighs and lifts you closer to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the curls between your legs tantalizingly and his breath catching when your hips jerk forward.

As he begins his ministrations, you immediately notice it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. That feeling was completely alien to you. It was even wetter than you expected, and weird, but powerfully pleasant. Before this exact moment, you had a firm belief that hardly anyone else would make you feel the same way, or better, than you do yourself, but apparently you were very wrong. Thankfully you were wrong. “My god,” you gasp as the flat of his tongue drags over your folds, too much and not enough, and you jerk at the contact. “This is great. So weird, but-- great.”

He moans at your response, his movements carefully enthusiastic. He works his tongue between your folds and traces up to curl the tip of it around your clit, and it’s quite endearing and madly arousing to see how he eats out you like you’re the sweetest and tastier dessert he has ever tasted. You involuntarily buck against him with a desperate sound the moment he moves his tongue and lips in a particularly wicked way, something that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but you still feel the need to highlight in case it didn’t - “That. Keep doing that, please,”

And he does. The building of this climax is also different than the ones you already had by your own hands, and is more coy. As he sees the drops of sweat sliding along your soft skin and the expressions on your face as you get lost in this new but enchanting sensations, his hesitation and self-control fades away; there’s nothing uncertain in the way he buries his face in your cunt now, nothing restrained in the groan he lets out as he devours you and drinks you down as if you’re the first stream of water he has seen in days.

His tongue glides deeper in your folds again and again, swirling up through the wetness you’re coated with to tease at your clit while he grunts and strains closer, squeezing your thighs with both hands tight. The wave of heat inside of you is cresting so fast, you don't even know how to tell him, how to signal that you’re nearly done for and, in the end, it happens too fast to even try. He sucks at your clit, circling it with his tongue, once, twice, and then you’re crying out, shaking underneath him, trying to keep your thighs from clenching too hard around his head as he laps you through it with with urgent whimpers and moans, as if he cannot have enough of you.

You’re still trembling when he rises, the look on his face revealing to you how proud he feels by making you feel this way. It looks so good on him.

You fail miserably at the simple task of connecting words together after that, choosing instead to collect your remaining strength, prop yourself up and beckon him again to keep kissing him and learn, through his talented tongue, how you taste. He kisses the thin fabric of the shirt at your chest that covers you from view, your throat, your jaw, and before he reaches your impatient lips, he notes, sinfully, “Seems like you enjoyed yourself, love.”

“That was… unbelievable. Stars, I want to make you feel good too. Please show me how.”

“Keep kissing me,” he begs, voice still strained from how aroused he is. “I want to be inside you so bad. Let’s get you prepared.” You’re still so sensitive, you tread on overstimulation when his fingers lightly touch your clit, making you break the kiss in a hiss. He traces a line on your folds, inspecting the impact his mouth had on you. “So wet for me.”

“Bit slower, Gra,” He complies to your breathy plea, his fingers now more tame as he slowly spreads your wetness throughout your pussy. He stretches towards the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, interrupting his contact to spread some on his fingers before unhurriedly slipping his middle finger inside of you. The coldness of the gel makes you shiver in surprise, the easiness brought by it very welcomed. Again - the sensation is odd. Completely unfamiliar. The feeling of having something inside of you for the first time, going further than you ever dared to try, probing, exploring; the coldness of the lube clashing against your burning hot cunt. But it also felt nice. The focused look on his face was adorable, he looked like he was a scientist in the middle of very complex research.

Despite the panting, the messy hair and the fire in his eyes.

Your body already has a lot of new sensations to process simultaneously, so when he asks you to take off your bra and shirt so his tongue can work on your nipples - which you gladly accept, you feel like you’re on sensual overload. His tongue, again, so talented, takes your mind off the slight burning you feel when he introduces his ring finger to your soaked, throbbing core, his focused, carefully overpowering and constant stimulation driving you insane.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, voice muffled by your breast. You nod, carried by the wave of pleasure sweeping you.

“Yes. God, yes.” You pant, tangling your fingers tightly on his thick hair as an encouragement, a desperate sound escaping from your lips the moment he reaches a certain point within you you didn’t even know existed, hot mouth continuing to lick and suck your nipple. Even though you were spent by your last orgasm, he was indeed getting you addicted to those new feelings, and even though this was heavenly, truly heavenly, you needed more. “Gra, I’m ready, I think.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Releasing your nipple from his lips with a sounding pop, he eagerly frees himself from his trousers - hard as a brick - and puts protection and lubrication on, swiftly positioning himself between your thighs while stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You motion to take off your skirt, and he holds your hand, not letting you. “Don’t. It’ll be really hot to fuck you in this.” He confesses, giving your forehead a kiss in a very different context than before. He aligns his forehead with yours, each of your lips just barely touching while you breathe each other’s air. He looks deep into your eyes, slowly running the tip of his cock between the slick folds of your pussy, coating himself in the remnants of your pleasure. “Do you trust me?”

You trust me to know your limits? Not to go any further if you don’t really want me to?

“Absolutely.”

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head. You feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, as he finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck. He then, very slowly, penetrates you, stopping when he hears the noises you make indicating you’re struggling to adjust to his presence. Out of everything you’ve felt in the last minutes, this was by far the most painful sensation. “This-- is new,” you note, your face completely incapable of hiding the discomfort. He also notices that.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

“It’s okay. I’ll get used to it.”

“It’s not supposed to be about endurance, you know.” He says, a bit breathless and worried, caressing your hair. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Or if you feel too much pain.”

After some long seconds and some deep breaths, you say: “Okay. Go on.”

“As you wish.”

He moves inside you at a very slow pace, the lubrication clearly making it easier for you to handle it. It still hurts, significantly, but the sensation of being filled is also surprisingly arousing.

His hand moves to your sensitive clit again in small, measured circles, your little moans being a mixture of the pain of penetration and the sheer ecstasy of seeing him falling apart because of you. The way his chest heaves while the drops of sweat start pearling his fair skin, the furrowed brows and broken groans, the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room - everything’s making your chest burst in love and satisfaction. You tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow; it stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you, and Graham becomes even more vocal as he picks up a steady and gradually faster pace. He turned all of your keys, it’s about time you turn some of his.

“Graham, deeper,” you whimper, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. His name rips itself from your throat while Coxon clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. He found denying you to be impossible.

He snarls and curses as he holds you down and rails you, determined to make you sing again before he finishes, and to his delight, your heightened sensitivity gives him what he wants. And this time, he couldn't hold on.

Graham kisses you one last time as he groans and gives in, head dropping to your neck again. You didn’t reach a second climax, but stars, what an experience you just had.

When he comes back to himself enough to realise he still had you practically folded in half, he carefully pulls his softening cock free, taking the condom off and taking the strands of hair out of your face as you struggle to catch your breath. You suggest a shared bath, a suggestion he gladly accepts.

Too tired and too sore for pillow talk, comfortable silence falls as your hand finds his, and you lay, listening to each other’s breathing slowly settle.

I could get used to his little snore on my chest, is the last thought that twinkles on your mind before you fall asleep snuggled with him.

#graham coxon #alex james #damon albarn #dave rowntree #blur #britpop #smut #imagine #reader insert #graham coxon x reader #graham x reader #y/n #fluff #au #fanfiction #blur band

235 notes · View notes

justathingidid · 5 years ago

Text

ZOMBIES: THE DISCRIMINATORY UNDEAD

The movie premiered early 2018 on Disney Channel

On February 16, 2018, Disney Channel premiered the sing and dance musical Zombies, which focuses on the integration of teenage zombies into the pastel perfect Seabrook High. Milo Manheim portrays Zed, a green-haired, grey-skinned zombie who wants nothing more than to be on Seabrook’s football team. His determined spirit is shared by Addison - a bubbly, cheerful girl whose main goal is to be on the Seabrook High cheer squad. Apparently the passion for extracurricular athletics is stronger than it lets on, because these two somehow fall in love. But the young romance is faced with problems - the main one being that zombies are hated and the town of Seabrook would never accept the dating duo. Despite the over-the-top dance numbers and Romeo-and-Juliet-esque love story, Zombies is nothing short of masterful in its depiction of segregation and intolerance in an ignorant community. This post will include the following:

An analysis of the town and social structure of Seabrook

An in-depth character study of Zed and Addison

An examination and explanation of the “physical villain”

Examination of certain song lyrics

SYMBOLISM IN THE TOWN OF SEABROOK

The town of Seabrook is sickeningly perfect. The color palette of pastel pinks, greens, blues and greys is shoved down the throat of the viewer to display the cohesiveness of the citizens. Such uniformity is instrumental in showing the shared ideals and viewpoints of the people of Seabrook - the coordinated appearance is more than physical. Overall, it is clear to younger viewers that the people of Seabrook firmly embrace sameness. On the outskirts lies “Zombietown”, the dark, gloomy community where the people of Seabrook have forced the creatures of difference to reside. The history is controversial - zombies were created in freak accident, changing regular citizens into flesh eating creatures of the night. It is not sure whether or not a war had ensued but it can assumed that altercations did occur - characters mentions that their grandfather’s ear was bitten off by a zombie and all zombies now have an unexplained fear of fire. While the body count is unknown, one thing is clear, zombies are feared and ostracized. This immense fear has caused institutionalized discrimination - zombies are regulated by the government and not allowed in public spaces. Such laws only hint at historical instances of racism and discrimination in the real world. In America, African-Americans faced heavy discrimination based on the unwarranted accusations of being savage, uncivilized, and undeserving. Similar to the zombies in Zombietown, laws were enforced that banned blacks from public spaces such as water fountains, schools and churches. When schools were finally desegregated, there was a large outcry from the white community, similar to the response of Seabrook citizens when zombie students are integrated into Seabrook High School. Once there, the zombie students are subjected to inferior classroom conditions and hate speech sprayed on the walls, just like black students who were allowed to attend majority-white institutions. But the similarities don't just apply to African Americans, Zombies are also comparable to Asian-Americans. A certain laws restricts zombies from owning pets out of fear that they will eat them - somewhat of an allegory to the racist stereotype of Asian-Americans consuming domestic animals such as dogs and cats. Zombies are also regulated by Z-Bands, an unremovable metal wrist band that delivers electromagnetic pulses that reduces their urge for brains. This draws unmistakable similarity to abusive tactics employed in gay conversion therapy. There are countless stories of those in conversion therapy who found themself with “an elastic band around the wrist” that delivered electric shocks in order to dissuade the individual’s desire for the same-sex (NCLRIGHTS.ORG). With the Z-Band, the amount of electromagnetic pulses can alter the creature entirely. Too much is a heavily painful experience, but allows them to appear “normal”, while too little causes them to return to their natural state as brain-eating animals. For the electric-shock wristband, it can be determined that a similar concept applies: too much would prove to be near fatal despite its probable effectiveness, and too little would cause the person to remain as they are - in an unnatural state.

So, behind it’s pleasing color aesthetic, Seabrook is nothing but a symbol of an ugly history of misunderstanding.

CHARACTER STUDIES

I. ZED

Milo Manheim plays the titular role of Zed, a teenage zombie

At a glance: The main zombie in the movie is Zed Necrodopolous (“necro” being an humorous hint towards zombies’ relations to bodies and death), a teenage boy who wastes no time giving us the breakdown of zombie life in Seabrook. Not only are zombies cast to live inside a barricade known as “Zombietown”, the creatures are also banned from owning pets, and must wear government-issued overalls and Z-Bands. Despite the setbacks, Zed has found a way to make the best of the situation. He customizes his overalls, downloads games on his Z-Band, and pretends to be a dog for his little sister, Zoey, who really wants one. This “roll-with-the-punches”, humble attitude is what makes Zed so likeable. And this is crucial to younger viewers who instantly need to see past Zed’s skin/hair color and existence as a zombie. His personality must shine through: he’s shown to be goofy, sweet, a fan of football, and a good brother and son. Exempt from greasy hair and bad acne, Zed is a normal teenage boy - but in order to deliver the metaphor for racism, the viewer must remember that simply because his skin is a pale grey and his hair is an electric green, he is not.

A human Zed takes Addison out for frozen yogurt

In relation to Addison: Many believe Zeddison’s first encounter to be in the Seabrook Zombie Safe Room when Addison reacts to Zed’s appearance as a zombie with fear and defensively punches him in the face. However, the couple’s first encounter happens long before - as soon as the movie’s first musical number (“My Year”) ends, Zed notices Addison and is instantly smitten. Perhaps this is why when he realizes it is her who has socked him in the face, he’s able to shrug it off. He doesn’t let his friends dissuade him from liking her either - he wants to believe she’s one of the better humans. While this hope is diminished when he finds Addison planning to egg his house for cheer initiation, it’s soon restored when she apologizes and invites him and his friends to the pep rally. There, he heroically catches a falling Addison after a cheer stunt gone wrong and in perfect Disney fashion, the romance is solidified as they gaze into one another’s eyes. After this incident, the two interact like a true couple, with Zed even taking Addison to Zombietown to see his way of life which she enthusiastically embraces (“BAMM!”). The night nearly ends with a Zeddison kiss, but is interrupted by the Zombie Patrol Squad, who intercept Addison. It seems to be the end for the pair - Addison’s parents insist of meeting their daughter’s mystery boy before she can engage in any more outside activities - but Zed’s smart thinking saves them. By upping the dosage from his Z-Band, Zed is able to appear human, a painful sacrifice he’s willing to make to save their relationship. However, the action deeply saddens Addison and she consistently reminds Zed that he doesn’t need to change - the institution does. Whenever Zed feels insecure about his status as a zombie, Addison is there to give him the confidence to be proud of himself. She’s a good fit for Zed, she wants truly wants the best for him and all of the zombies.

In his natural state, Zed is on the loose

Personal Sacrifice: Now Zed is not without fault. In fact, his main fault seems to be his overwhelming desire to be normal. He wants to be accepted and have a good high school experience. He has a lot to offer, but as a zombie is often turned away. This is perfectly illustrated through Zed’s struggles with the Seabrook football team. At the tryouts, he’s the only one to not make the team, on clear grounds that it is strictly because he’s a zombie. After a glitch with his Z-Band causes him to display his strength he’s allowed to walk-on, but will be kicked off unless the team wins. His best effort proves futile - in the first game, his team members play against him and make any type of winning outcome difficult. He’s purposely targeted and singled-out, made to wear a special jersey with no number, just the letter ‘Z’. At halftime, his coach orders him to use his Z-Band and Zed obliges, ignoring warnings from best friend Eliza about the dangers. With Zed’s zombie strength the team comes out on top with the first win for Seabrook football in a long time. Zed is now a force to be reckoned with and immediately uses this power to better the lives of zombie students at Seabrook. “No more classrooms in a dingy basement,” he tells the Principal, “and full integration for zombie students in the cafeteria.” And while the principal allows zombie students to sit in a corner of the cafeteria, she won’t see about better classroom conditions until Zed continues to win games. That’s right - Zed is carrying the burden of all zombie students at Seabrook on his back - or rather, in his Z-Band. He’s also getting what he desired - acceptance. As the football team deepens their winning streak, Zed is heartily embraced by Seabrook students. At one point, life is pretty dang good for the zombie boy. He’s the star of the football team, is dating a pretty cheerleader, and has gotten his friends involved in clubs of their interest at school. But just as quickly as it started, the good life comes crashing down. In the championship game, Zed’s Z-Band is hacked by mischievous cheerleaders, causing him to go full-zombie. His friends are hacked too and chaos ensues as people quickly flee for their lives in panic.

Zombie Patrol eventually captures and calms the creatures to the relief of the crowd who berate zombies, fueling the hatred that kept Zed’s kind out of public schools, off of football teams, and inside the barricade. It is here where Addison steps in and reprimands the townspeople for placing expectations of normalcy on Zed that caused him to endanger his life, rather than simply accept him for who he was.

Which brings us to our next character...

II. ADDISON

Meg Donnelly portrays Addison, Zed’s love interest in the movie

At a glance: If anyone in this movie is more than they appear, it’s Addison. As far as first impressions go, she’s off to an awful start - her peppiness is made obvious from the start as she performs a corny cheer about starting freshman year before “noticing” the viewer. It’s an instant thumbs down...until she reveals to the viewer a secret. In the perfect town of Seabrook, where anything different is discouraged, Addison wears a blonde wig to cover her real hair - an awfully layered, stark white mess. The viewer is left intrigued - this girl is obviously more than she appears. But Addison knows acceptance for her hair is a long way out. Her family is filled with success - her cousin Bucky is captain of the undefeated cheer team at Seabrook High, her father is chief of the police force (more specifically a subdivision dubbed “Zombie Patrol Squad”), and her mother is mayor of the town. To reveal her real hair would bring shame not only to her, but to her family, and destroy their positions of successful authority within the town. So she wears the blonde wig in compliance with Seabrook’s expectations, but deep down, Addison yearns for a change in the town social norms - a change that would allow people like her to be accepted as themselves. Perhaps this is why when zombies are integrated into Seabrook High, she is excited.

Addison worriedly asks Zed about his Z-Band during a timeout

In relation to Zed: Now, her first impression of Zed is surface-level: he’s a zombie and zombies are bad. A misunderstanding in a dark room causes Addison to punch the poor creature once the lights turn on and his true form is revealed, but she quickly apologizes after noticing how he is “not hideous.” If anything is surface-level, it would be that - feeling sorry for assaulting someone because of their attractiveness - but how else will younger viewers understand a crush? Sigh. Anyways, it’s fair to say Addison’s colorblindness towards Zed is what truly helps propel their romance forward throughout the movie. Before the physical assault, the two had held a conversation about their respective tryouts that day: football for Zed and cheer for Addison. As aforementioned, the passion for after-school athletics is a strong one, because Addison soon finds herself quite smitten for the tall zombie boy. Her goal is to make him and his kind feel accepted - she invites Zed and his friends to the school pep rallies, welcomes them to the cafeteria and apologizes for the actions of discrimination they face at the hands of Seabrook students. She knows things need to change and tries her best to do what she can, but it’s not until her relationship with Zed deepens that she grows angry at the institutionalized discrimination.

Donning her natural hair, Addison sings to the crowd with confidence

Personal Sacrifice: Addison likes Zed - she really likes him. She sees him as so much more than a zombie - he may not be a human, but he is definitely a being. She meets his friends and family, she goes to see his “side of the tracks”, she tries to learn his language, and she loudly cheers for him during football games. Despite how these actions may seem normal for someone in a relationship, they break all the rules she’s been told. But the rebellion of being with Zed is thrilling to her. She reveals her secret to him with ease, it helps him understand she wants a change not just for zombies, but herself too. However, Addison is soon forced to show that she is not just talk. When the hacking of his Z-Band causes Zed to return to his instincts, Addison abandons her wig to the repulsed townspeople and heavily reprimands them for their intolerance of difference. Her hair remains in its natural state for the rest of the movie, and her relationship with the zombies is stronger than ever - she is seemingly disowned by her parents following the discarding of her wig but she doesn’t care. By the end it is clear: Addison is ready to do what is right and will sacrifice all she has known because she loves Zed. Or more specifically, she “gar gar ga zas” him.

BUCKY, THE “PHYSICAL VILLAIN”

Trevor Tordjman portrays the egotistical male cheerleader

It is rare that a children’s movie does not have a villain. Kids are impressionable and “good” and “evil” must clearly be defined or seen. It is simply not enough to have the prejudice against zombies act as the the antagonist (despite being strong enough). That prejudice must take a physical form into something the viewers can see and blame. Thus, racism is embodied in a narcissistic cheerleader named Bucky.

Bucky taunts the new Zombie students through a fence

But Bucky is not allowed to be one-dimensional, which can only be appreciated by older viewers. He has a clear connection to our characters - a literal bloodline connection - being Addison’s older cousin. He knows her secret of wearing a wig, so one would assume he would despise the rules of perfection that keeps one his family members in hiding. Instead, Bucky fully embraces the social norms, and in turn, they embrace him.

Bucky is extremely popular, quite literally the face of Seabrook cheer, and thrives in the spotlight. He happily signs autographs for those who adore him and he is consistently accompanied by three cheerleaders (the Aceys) who are of his service. When zombies arrive at Seabrook, Bucky sees that his perfect world is under threat and thus uses his influence to spread hatred. He orders new cheerleaders to egg zombie houses in Zombietown, has cheerleaders perform with fire sticks to exploit zombies’ fear of fire, and removes anyone who embraces zombie culture off the squad. The thought of tolerating zombies is incomprehensible to Bucky, despite Addison’s persistent pleas that he try to embrace them.

In genuine confusion, Bucky listens to Addison defend cheering for Zed

Now, Bucky is smart and he is certainly not stupid. He’s on to his cousin’s crush for Zed, and does his best to put a stop to it. Now, THIS is where Bucky gets interesting because he wavers on behaving more like a bad ex-boyfriend than a concerned family member. He harshly removes Addison from her interactions with Zed and criticizes her for associating with zombies. One would think Bucky would pull out all the stops to end Zeddison, but unfortunately, the boy is too busy preparing for the cheer championship. Speaking of cheer, this is where viewers are really able to see Bucky’s bullying nature. His dislike is not solely for zombies, but a lack of perfection. During cheer tryouts, he is seen shoving those who are imperfect out of the way, as well as ripping the tryout numbers of those who make a mistake (“Fired Up”). He reluctantly allows Bree, a curvy African-American girl, on the cheer team at the insistence of Addison despite his initial argument of her clearly not looking the part he wants Seabrook cheer to put forward.

A determined Addison and a worried Bree at cheer tryouts

And if it isn’t lack of perfection, then it’s being upstaged that clearly drives Bucky to do bad. When it becomes clear that Zed has stolen Bucky’s adoring student audience, he sends the Aceys to sabotage him, leading to the Z-Band hack. The action ultimately backfires as a rogue Zed nearly kills him and Bucky is forced to face the monster he drew out. By the cheer championship, Bucky is in deep conflict. He still can’t swallow fully accepting zombies, but ultimately agrees to co-exist. This is a powerful message to convey, especially to young children. You don’t have to love everyone who’s different, but at the end of the day, they still deserve respect. Thus, Bucky as a physical villain is useful in pushing the racism agenda forward because as the personification of discrimination and hate, Bucky is able to show the problems that come with being completely one-minded.

Bucky angrily watches Zombie students sit in the cafeteria

SONG ANALYSIS

“My Year”

The opening number of the movie is bright and peppy, providing character introductions and coordinated dance numbers. A few key lyrics:

Lyrics:

“On this side we can all keep winning, if we just try to fit in” (Addison)

Interpretation:

On this side (Seabrook), trying to fit in and be perfect means success.

Lyrics:

“But, it ain’t so bad on this side of the tracks” (Zed)

Interpretation:

particularly impoverished (and usually dangerous or undesirable as a result). "Tracks" refers to railroad tracks, which are sometimes thought of as demarcating different economic areas of a town.

Lyrics:

“Yeah, you got a point, but today’s an improvement/ ‘Cause baby steps is still movement” (Zed)

Interpretation:

Zed adopts a MLK view, accepting the small victories for zombies while his friend Eliza is more Malcolm X, calling for radical action against the establishment

“Someday”

Someday is a duet in which Zed and Addison dream of a time where they will be allowed to openly be together. Key lyrics:

Lyrics:

“I know it might be crazy

But did you hear the story?” (Zed)

“I think I heard it vaguely

A girl and a zombie” (Addison)

Interpretation:

Zed and Addison jokingly pretend to be in the future, believing that their relationship goes down in history and is now a story that is told amongst everyone.

Lyrics:

“Ooh, I've got a feeling

If you get to know me” (Addison)

Interpretation:

While Zed sings of her perfection, Addison teasingly hints at being more than she appears

Lyrics:

“Someday

This could be, this could be ordinary” (Both)

Interpretation:

Someday,

A relationship like theirs would not turn heads and cause scrutiny

Lyrics:

“You and me side by side (yeah, yeah)

Out in the broad daylight” (Both)

Interpretation:

The two would be able to take their relationship public and not sneak around. Any discouragement will be met with confidence of them one day being accepted.

Lyrics:

“If different was a super power

We'd be so flawless” (Addison)

Interpretation:

The two know a relationship like theirs is different and breaks all kinds of rules. If being different was expected, then they’d be perfect.

“BAMM!”

In Zombietown, Addison is introduced to zombie culture through a hip-hop dance routine and song mainly delivered by Zed.

Lyrics:

“We're the same, but different

Just like you, I got hopes and wishes

Itchin' to show the world what they're missing” (Zed)

Interpretation:

Zed wishes for the humans to see that they are more similar to zombies than they think. Zombies have goals and desires, and Zed wants to show humans what they are missing out on.

“Stand”

Following the arrest of Zed and his friends, Addison internally processes the conflict of doing what is right and going against everything she knows.

Lyrics:

“No some things are different than we thought

There's more to life than what we're taught” (Addison)

Interpretation:

Addison knows the ideology of Seabrook is problematic and wrong. She knows it is beneficial to embrace new ways of life and cultures.

Lyrics:

“How can I just forget all the things in my head?

Just stand, oh, you just stand

And if I stand, will I fall?

Trying to knock down these walls

What if I don't know where I stand?” (Addison and Bucky)

Interpretation:

Internally conflicted on whether or not to stand tall and speak in support of zombies, Bucky sings about going against what he knows and the risks that come with it. Addison encourages him to take the leap, but in the end, Bucky decides he is undecided on the matter.

CONCLUSION

With the barrier broken down, Zed and Addison happily embrace

In conclusion, Zombies is one of the decade’s best allegories of racism through its expert portrayal of interracial relationships, institutionalized discrimination, and the danger of groupthink. To some it may appear as nothing but a love story, and to others, just another Disney musical, but it is nothing but an example of how to simplify and personify controversial themes and explain them to younger viewers in a skilled manner. When compared to the catalogue of other Disney Channel Original Movies, Zombies stands out. We need more movies like this one - it would be impertinent to deprive the upcoming youth of themes that are prevalent in life. Zombies is set apart because its “good vs. evil” applies to real-world problems, oppression and racism - and is not just cut and dry “good vs. evil”.

Because, let’s be honest, rarely are people evil for no reason. There is always an underlying motivation and in the history of humanity we have seen that the stem of most evil has come from fear - a theme that Zombies shows perfectly.

253 notes · View notes

undignifiend · 4 years ago

Text

Some notes about Dezoka’s formative experiences; why she decided to abandon her post as a changeling and join up with the Gumm-Gumms on the frontlines, what she believes is at stake if Gunmar falls, and some speculating on shenanigans during a low-key return to the surface - at least before any world-changing operations.

+As a whelp she had a knack for dodging, climbing, sneaking, and escaping, but she was not at all inclined to fight. It was figured that if she had any use, it would probably be in learning subterfuge and how to blend in with and spy on humans. Not to say that being a changeling is at all easy - it was simply the role that she seemed to have something of a shot at, particularly if she could maintain a low-level information-gathering position. Besides, if she couldn’t manage to sharpen her fangs among fleshbags, she wouldn’t last long anyway.

+In her youth, trolls and humans were constantly fighting over territory and resources. And to her eyes, the Gumm-Gumms were the only ones willing to stand up to the humans while everyone else hid. At the time, she was prone to hiding, too. She didn’t want to get hurt, but the more she thought about it, the more she despised the idea of anyone else getting hurt on her behalf, or just because she was too afraid to stand up. That was a crucial shift for her, and is the core of her idealized vision of the Gumm-Gumms and their Underlord, and why she wants to be one of them.

+That particular shift happened while witnessing a human raid on a troll village, where a small group of Gumm-Gumms were stuck fighting the humans off. She was already integrated with a human peasant family, and prone to sneaking out to trollish villages, markets, and hideouts. She understood enough to know that she wouldn’t be welcome among trolls, but it was enough to hide nearby and take in familiar sights, sounds, and scents of an older home she couldn’t quite remember. When the raid hit, she knew she might die if she tried to fight, but she also knew that if she just ran, she’d regret it forever. So she made a nuisance of herself, mostly by distracting and disrupting the humans’ tactics; tripping them, stealing their weapons, and switching to human form to avoid death by sunlight while propping up temporary shade for the real fighters. The Gumm-Gumms won that fight just as their reinforcements arrived, and she scampered off as quickly as she could, feeling like her whole world had just opened up. She knew where she wanted to spend her life, and commenced planning to get there.

+She was rather judgmental toward Dwoza for their initial “keep our heads down until this blows over” policy. The humans didn’t seem to care what faction a troll belonged to, they were ready to kill any they found. So it felt to her like Dwoza was using the Gumm-Gumms as a convenient and expendable shield against a common enemy, and she couldn’t pretend she had any respect for (what she saw as) a decision to just stand back and let others take all the risks for them. Dwoza siding with the humans at Killahead surprised and confused the hell out of her for a good long while. She’s had centuries to think (and occasionally rant) about it, and has come to think of Merlin’s Amulet as both a bribe (a powerful weapon to convince Dwoza to side with them) and a Trojan Horse (to make trolls keep themselves in line, prioritizing the wellbeing of humans over themselves). Hearing that it’s most recent champion is human just looks to her like the mask coming off. Trolls may have wielded it for centuries, but it has remained a human weapon all along.

+(Almost) nothing will supersede her loyalty to Gunmar. He’s her king, and her hero, and she believes in his vision for the future.

+The only exception that might contest her loyalty is the safety of her familiar. Dezoka doesn’t like being a changeling, but she has fond memories of her familiar’s family, and loves Danica like a little sister, and has gone to great lengths to hide her, and wants to find some way to give her a good, secure life.

+Due to her experiences, she is willing to fight and kill humans if she believes it is necessary - especially where the wellbeing of trolls is concerned, and she follows Gunmar’s judgement of that - but she also understands that humans are not so simple as to be easily summed up. If she has a soft spot for them, it’s a small one, tinged with distant memories of songs and stories around fire-pits, careful instruction on how to fell a tree, re-thatch a leaky roof, or weave fibers into cloth, scary and thrilling stories about trolls, and comforting, well-meaning arms when the loneliness of her secret got overwhelming. They’re not evil, and she doesn’t have the luxury of kidding herself. They’re just people. Albeit, people who have a tendency of causing problems for trolls.

+Secretly disinclined to eat human flesh, but not out of any notion that humans are special. If offered (and not pressured into eating it by someone of higher rank, or if not currently starving), she’ll “save it for later” and use it for bartering, bribes, or gifts. Fighting and killing them is one thing, but “cleaning up after” (while practical, especially when food is scarce) often comes with a lot of “this is your place, you arrogant fleshbags” / “we’re superior to you” baggage that ruins her appetite anyway - partly because she knows that’s exactly how she’ll be treated if anyone finds out she’s Impure. And she believes she doesn’t have to think of humans as prey, or reassure herself with stories about natural hierarchy, in order to fight them effectively. And unless it has to do with orders from her king and superiors, or keeping her team functioning well, she doesn’t give a damn about hierarchy or “one’s rightful place” anyway. She made her own.

+Dezoka has heard scary reports of what a trashfire the fleshbags have turned the Surface into while the Gumm-Gumms have been locked away. She’s upset about it, and she believes the Eternal Night is important not just for Trollkind, but for the Surface itself. As she sees it, someone’s gotta get the humans to back off, or they’ll just keep doing more damage (pollution, mass extinction, etc) until they, too, die out, and leave the Surface an even more barren wasteland than the Darklands. And having everyone (regardless of species) retreat to the Darklands just to survive a little longer would be the most tragic failure/death/defeat imaginable, in her mind. She believes that without Gunmar, that would be the way the world ends, so it is absolutely paramount that he survives and succeeds.

+She has a hard time getting close to people. Partly because death is fairly common in the Darklands, and partly because anyone finding out her secret would risk getting both her and her familiar killed, and she wants to limit those chances. She can bundle with others for warmth, tackle someone out of the way of a projectile, or appreciate and crack jokes with her fellows in grim situations, but she doesn’t yet feel comfortable with “unnecessary” physical contact or emotional intimacy. It’s not that she doesn’t like it - she sees it as a luxury she can’t afford.

Potential AU shenanigans where the Gumm-Gumms return to the Surface:

+Loses her composure over the smell of woodsmoke. It’s the detail that cements it for her that they’re finally back on the Surface. Also has a little trouble with the open sky and sometimes loses her balance when she feels like she might fall up. Closing her eyes helps. Needs a bit of an adjustment period at first.

+Due to Dez’s tactical and combat prowess as a Gumm-Gumm captain, her loyalty, and her ability to (reluctantly) disguise as human, Gunmar could (if he saw fit, and before she pulls anymore Danica-transporting shenanigans) assign her to bodyguard individuals beyond a troll’s reach during the day once they return to the Surface - especially ones who are likely to see combat and need backup. She doesn’t have the raw hitting power of a troll, but she has good pain tolerance and reflexes, generally knows what she’s doing, and coordinating with teams is where she really shines. Her usual role against tougher opponents involves knocking them off balance and provoking openings in their defenses for her team to exploit (which she will also exploit whenever she has a sufficiently clear shot). She’s like an aggressive evasion-tank. But in any 1v1, she’ll do her best to strike hard and fast and end it quickly. Slow, horrible, and painful is all well and good, but she’s got work to do.

+Remembers very little about how to blend in with humans, and acts like a Gumm-Gumm even in human form. She wants to do her job well, so she takes any instruction on the modern world very seriously, though she also tends to get frustrated when she’s confused (which is most of the time - being on the Surface again is rather overwhelming at first, and it’s not the Surface she remembers). She’s alert and effective at protecting those she’s assigned to, but also occasionally needs to be stopped from committing theft, assault, drinking perfume, climbing buildings, making cookfires and ‘ghost fences’ wherever she wants, rolling around in dust or mud baths, wearing ash and/or coal-based warpaint, or growling when she’s irritated, confused, excited, or worried. Can be taught to ‘store’ her armor and parlock spear on her trollish form so she won’t be caught unarmed if she needs to change quickly.

+Will also contend with anxiety over taking human form again after she’s worked all her life to deny that it even exists. Won’t like looking at mirrors (will only really do so if she’s checking in on Danica) or her own hands (both pinkies are missing, too), and will be all the more inclined to distract herself with work. Without sufficient distractions, she might turn to substance abuse to ease some of the stress if she thinks she can get away with it and still do her job.

+Likes to rest outside. Very light sleeper. Even cool nights are warm when compared to the Darklands, and she likes to watch the stars and feel the Earth turn. Stargazing is (despite the light pollution) one of the few things left that still feels like the world she remembers.

#yet more Dezoka notes #changeling oc #Gumm-Gumm oc #this twit has opinions #which she won't dare talk about so i gotta write them in notes #go to sleep 'fiend it's 5am again

6 notes · View notes

hong-kong-art-man · 4 years ago

Photo

Money Loads The Gun, Joyce Cheng Pulls The Trigger—7 Money Notions On Earth

Lydia Shum(沈殿霞) is the most famous and loved female comedian in the history of Hong Kong. She passed away in 2008 at the age of 62. Her 33-year-old daughter, a popular singer, Joyce Cheng(鄭欣宜) will inherit her huge properties under Lydia’s will when she turns 35 according to newspaper. ‘How will Joyce spend the money?’ became a spicy discussion topic on social media.

Discourse and critical thinking are essential. Let me try to share some useful views on money—some are mine and some belong to others.

(1) Money is the car but you are the driver

Had it not been due to money, you would have been a mere window shopper in your life. Money is a car. It can take you to your destination but, like careful driving, the car must require your prudent control. Recklessness is the cause of a car crash. By the same token, careless spending may lead to you being in the red or even bankrupt. Buy what you need only. Only spend the money that you earned, not on any kind of overdraft facility from credit card, bank or money lender.

(2) Never watch like a hawk the money that does not belong to you

Some girls want to marry a rich man so that she can marry his fortunes together. Some young men like to keep tabs on the parents’ wealth so that he can be bequeathed one day. Some purposefully hang around with rich friends in order for curry favour.

Unless you are a ghost, to live in the dark shadow of someone with an ulterior motive will surely make you nervous, and finally lose yourself.

Never lie, steal, cheat or beg for the sake of enriching your own pocket, as the money will be cursed with an ultimate terrible fate upon you.

(3) The happiest and luckiest people are not those getting more, but those giving more

My generous friend said, “I am happy and lucky. I got enough for myself. There is no act better than my money, though not a lot, reaching down those in need and making them know that a stranger does care about them, like the way that I care about my family members. When the desperate people could feel the warm support, they realize that there is never a problem that can defeat sunrise.”

Another friend told me, “One great thing about donation is that the money which I gave away bring me back a more joyful meaning of it, and the money that I am keeping for myself somehow will become 10 times more! I am spiritually richer as a result.”

Money is like muck—not good unless it be spread.

(4) It takes 3 things for you to feel rich enough

I am not so divine as to say spiritual happiness brings more richness than money. I just want to opine that there is a quantitative definition of being rich, if you are already in possession of 3 things. You are then rich enough to call for a halt to your further hungry exploration for greater wealth. You should be contented when you have a flat for self-use, stable returns from some utility stocks which will give you a reliable pension and bank account savings which can help respond to urgent needs.

Before you retire, save; and after you save, retire! Real riches are the riches possessed inside, not just material luxuries. Those who appreciate your wisdom or character are the real friends.

(5) Ideally, spend most of the money before you die

It is fantastic to be able to spend the money that you have earned to enjoy the remaining years. The tricky challenge is that we do not know when we will die and how much money will be needed for the remaining years.

Two modern concepts are very attractive: lifelong elderly housing and ‘reverse mortgage’. The former is a kind of guaranteed accommodation by a developer to a senior till he dies, in consideration of a huge upfront lump sum paid by him. A reverse mortgage is a loan, secured by the mortgage of one’s residential property, that will enable a senior to receive a guaranteed fixed monthly sum till he dies. The loan typically does not require monthly mortgage payments and all will be settled at the time of death.

(6) Being ostentatious is a stupid way of spending money

Stupid or naive people are eager to put themselves on display. They spend money in a way that they beg to be looked at or they can look superior to others. More likely than not, these people have an inferiority complex and it causes them to over-compensate. They become overly concerned with how they appear to others and if this is taken to the extreme, it becomes a ‘neurosis’. It may also cause a person to be prone to behaviours intended merely to seek attention or compete with others.

(7) Don’t lose the things that money cannot buy by making money to buy

Money cannot buy 10 values: happiness, time, a good family, wisdom, respect, class, character, common sense, integrity and love. There are many people who are enjoying the above are actually quite poor.

With his almighty judgments, God is fair and will not make the rich get all.

Money is always a good servant but a bad master. You should rule your money. Money should not rule, if not ruin, your life by making you run like a broker in the trading hall of a stock exchange, always greedy and fearful!

MLee

Joyce Cheng MV acknowledgement-Neway Star Official Channel https://youtu.be/EbJhct_HTu8

Money Song (Sam Hui) acknowledgement: lifeisgood181 https://youtu.be/GppvbS2jXpY

Money, Money, Money (Abba) acknowledgement: ABBA https://youtu.be/ETxmCCsMoD0

Money makes the world go around acknowledgement: zeitdiebemagazin https://youtu.be/PIAXG_QcQNU

She works hard for the money (Donna Summer) acknowledgement: Donna Summer https://youtu.be/ci8uvhiU9LE

#Lydia Shum沈殿霞 #Joyce Cheng鄭欣宜 #Comedian #Money Lender #Bequeath #Curry Favour #Ulterior Motive #Money Is Like Muck Not Good Except It Be Spread #Lifelong Elderly Housing #Reverse Mortgage #Neurosis #Inferiority Complex #Money Is Always A Good Servant But A Bad Master

3 notes · View notes

theworldbrewery · 5 years ago

Text

multiclass your... BLOOD HUNTER!!

As per the request by @mstheoverflow, today we’re taking a look at the Wisdom-based “original flavor” Blood Hunter class. As of right now, this class is available on DnDBeyond, but in the coming weeks, the update to an Intelligence-based version of the class is expected to supersede this existing one, so if you’re attached to this version, save the details now.

A couple key things: to multiclass out of Blood Hunter, you must have a 13 in Wisdom as well as a 13 in either Strength or Dexterity--that or is really key because it makes your multiclassing really flexible. There are also special rules for multiclassing into warlock if you are of a certain subclass, which I’ll get into later.

Let’s dig in!

Blood Hunter + Barbarian

If you chose to be a strength-centric blood hunter, this multiclass is baller. No joke. Consider: while raging, you halve all normal weapon damage (you don’t halve crimson rite damage unless you take the correct totem in the barbarian Totem Warrior subclass at third level, but that could be arranged). Furthermore, your Crimson Rite damage to yourself can be used to sustain your rage if you’re at risk of dropping it. Reckless attacks at second level increase your potential for a critical hit, which would also double damage from your Crimson Rite, and your rage will have no effect on Blood Maledict curses. Since you probably have a high CON to compensate for the damage you deal to yourself, this is also great for your Unarmored Defense barbarian feature. An excellent option for a strength-oriented blood hunter! (note: if you’re raging and transformed per Order of the Lycan, you fail your bloodlust save automatically--yikes!)

Blood Hunter + Bard

Unfortunately, a low-level bard’s best perks are the bonus-action Bardic Inspirations, which take away from your potential offhand attack, Blood Maledicts, and Crimson Rite activation. On the plus side, you can gain Jack-of-All-Trades, Song of Rest, and use the light spellcasting from bard to cast a buff or debuff. It’s not going to hamper you too much, but it’s not outstanding, either. Definitely can be made to work well, especially if you are Order of the Profane Soul and want a couple new cantrips and spell slots to enhance your casting.

Blood Hunter + Cleric

This is what bard could be if it weren’t playin’, as the kids say. Cleric relies on Wisdom, which works for your existing blood hunter abilities, and you’ll get three cantrips instead of 2 (as well as the standard 2 spell slots). Use a cleric’s buff or debuff casting while you focus on melee attacks, and you’re golden--take War domain if you want to focus on volume of hits, or take Tempest to maximize Rite of the Storm (and potentially Rite of the Roar) damage with your channel divinity and add a damaging reaction.

Blood Hunter + Druid

At first level, druid can’t offer you much, which is a shame since the wisdom ability works in your favor. But if you really want this and you go after the wild shape at second level, be prepared: whether or not you can apply Crimson Rite to your beast shape “weapons” (claws and bite attacks) is totally up to your DM, and you shouldn’t do this multiclass without consulting them first. If you get permission, this could be outstanding; if not, the druid isn’t really worth it.

Blood Hunter + Fighter

With the fighter multiclass, you stand to gain an extra fighting style and, more importantly, your Second Wind, which can be make-or-break for a blood hunter’s self-damaging oeuvre. At second level, your Action Surge can give you extra chances to hit your opponents, as well. It’s actually quite well-suited to you, if not the powerhouse that the barbarian can be under the right conditions.

Blood Hunter + Monk

Now this... this is beautiful. Your dex and wisdom are perfect for the monk skillset, and you can apply monk damage bonuses to weapons that are anointed with your Crimson Rite. You’ll also gain Unarmored Defense, which makes your AC 10+Dexterity mod+Wisdom mod. At second level you get Unarmored Movement and of course, the coveted Ki points. All this is excellent, but here’s the juiciest bit: if you’re a Lycanthrope blood hunter, your unarmed strikes also count as weapons for crimson rite while you’re transformed, further enhancing your attacks using Flurry of Blows, as well as increasing your AC and reducing damage.

Blood Hunter + Paladin

In contrast to the monk, this one is not as well-suited. Your Lay on Hands will force you to decide between taking 3 total attacks on a turn (two for your action and offhand for bonus action) and doing marginal healing. Divine Smite is great, as are the other spellcasting smites, but we must recall the paladin prereqs are Strength and Charisma, so you have just one of two of the needs met (assuming you’re using strength for blood hunter stuff). Smites are really the only perk to this multiclass at low levels.

Blood Hunter + Ranger

This is another option that perfectly blends with the blood hunter skillset. If you’re looking to go for something less combat-y and diversify your non-combat abilities, this is a great option! The fighting style and spellcasting at second level can keep you in the game for combat purposes, applying spells like Hunter’s Mark to increase damage, and you’ll gain a new skill proficiency, bonuses against your favored enemy, and bonuses on favored terrain.

Blood Hunter + Rogue

A dextrous blood hunter can have a very fun time as a rogue! You’ll gain a skill proficiency, proficiency with thieves’ tools, and expertise as far as skills go, a new language in the form of thieves’ cant, and the ever-coveted Sneak Attack--you’ll only get 1d6 to start, but extra damage is excellent (given that you must have advantage to get sneak attack and thereby double your odds of a critical hit). If you go to second level, your Cunning Actions might help your hitpoint-insecure blood hunter from taking too many hits.

Blood Hunter + Sorcerer and Wizard

I’m lumping these two together because honestly, the answer’s roughly the same. It’s nice to get spells, sure, but neither of these casters have something special to offer the blood hunter. They’re so casting-focused, you’ll struggle to integrate them with your melee attacker. They don’t share your ability score prowesses, either; altogether, the sorcerer can offer you more than the wizard (but if your intelligence is higher, take wizard).

Blood Hunter + Warlock

So first off, the warlock can be a great addition because your casting is so limited. In your case, it’s an asset: you don’t need to waste time on spell slots. either up your AC or take up a concentration spell with Hex or Witch Bolt to deal damage in a passive way as you attack, and potentially employ cantrips to enhance your attacks or attack at range in a pinch. At second level, your eldritch invocations can make you even more badass, but we won’t get into those because there’s so much flexibility.

Now, if you’re Order of the Profane Soul, the rules here are a little different. From the page: “If multiclassing Order of the Profane Soul with Warlock levels, add a third of your blood hunter levels (rounded down) to your Warlock level and consult the Warlock progression table for total Spell Slots, and Spell Slot Level. To decide your spell casting ability for your warlock spells, choose that of the class with the higher level (choose between the two if levels are equal).”

That is to say, if you’re a 9th-level blood hunter and a first-level warlock, you’re considered a 4th-level warlock for the purposes of your total spell slots and spell level. So you’ll still have 2 second-level slots for the first level, but when you level up, blood hunter 9/warlock 2, you’ll count as a 5th level warlock, and immediately increase your spell slots to 3rd level--and because you have more levels in blood hunter, you can use your Wisdom to cast them.

And that’s everything! The old version of the blood hunter is tried-and-true, and if you want to hang on to it and even consider multiclassing from it, here are precisely the tools you need to do so!

If you enjoy our work here, please consider supporting us on our Ko-Fi page!

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #blood hunter #rpgs #critical role #multiclassing

120 notes · View notes

talldarkandroguesome · 4 years ago

Text

13th of Morning Star, Third Entry

Sahan brought Tel and I clothing as we waited by where Cadwell teleported us in. Tel seemed to be in shock and I decided they probably needed some time. They were trying to keep their modesty as we drew the eyes of the merchants and city dwellers alike.

I cared little for my bared body and so I made sure to stretch and languish as an entertainment for those sparing a look in our direction.

Once dressed, Tel was waiting for Er-Jaseen to return with the others. I took the opportunity to go and get a bottle of some sort of liquor, from the taste of it a very rushed whiskey of some sort or another. It felt like fire from tongue to belly and was the perfect remedy to what we had been through. I returned and sat besides Tel. I asked if I could get them anything, food, a drink, some intimacy. They wrapped their arms around me and took the bottle I offered them readily.

We stayed with our arms around another, occasionally kissing and passing the bottle back and forth. At one point I caught Lyris trying not to look in our direction so I waved at her.

She tried to look away even harder, so I called out to her and she came over, Sahan and Cadwell behind her. I patted the ground next to me and she sat down. I offered her the bottle which she took with a thankful nod. As she took a drink, I kissed her cheek. She seemed a bit surprised and I noticed a flash of something cross Sahan’s face with a twitch of his mouth, but I just smiled and had more to drink.

It was not too long before a portal opened up. Then another. And another. Then even more. And from these portals, a thunder of black soul gems began to pour out forming massive piles that stood half as tall as the buildings in the city. People in the city came out to see what the horrible cacophony was caused by.

We knew that these were likely to be all the souls that had been stolen from people like us. We all went to watch what was happening. It was mesmerizing.

And once the piles finished spewing crystals, they closed back up. Tel continued to stare at the piles for a while. I began looking around to see how many piles there were and to try and calculate how many souls there must have been when I saw a flash of movement. Tel dove into a pile, their arm outstretched. As they dug in, the top of the pile began to fall downward, falling on top of them and soon Tel could not be seen, buried beneath a pile of large soul gems.

Soon enough they came back out, cradling a gem in their arms. I smiled. I knew what it meant. I asked Tel if they had found their soul. They just nodded, staring at it, almost in disbelief. I gave my congratulations. I know how difficult it had been for Tel and their beliefs to be without their soul and could empathize with that horrible aching, cold pain.

Then there was the sound of another portal and I turned to see Er-Jaseen, now no longer glowing or clad in Akatosh’s armor. They fell to their knees and Lyris and I rushed over to his side, the others soon behind us.

I exclaimed my joy and how he had managed to succeed. Yet for the great deed done, he looked utterly devoid of all energy. I offered him the whiskey and he accepted it gratefully, then drinking it until the bottle was completely empty.

As I looked him over for injury I asked what if anything else I could provide to him. But he was too distracted by the sight of the soul gems that towered around the city. He spoke in a disbelieving voice as he said, she did it, then walked towards one of the piles. When he noticed Tel, he congratulated Tel on finding theirs, then turned to me and said mine was among these. I knew it was, but with as high as the piles were, I could only say it was... somewhere.

That seemed to spark something in Er-Jaseen, for he began calling to the gawkers for any vestiges in the city to be brought forward. Then he and I spoke of the overwhelming number of soul gems, the sheer volume of souls, lives, that had been stolen.

Then the gravity of Er-Jaseen’s actions struck me anew and I faced him, gave a formal and sincere thanks, and kowtowed before him. I wanted to ensure that I gave him the greatest respect I knew how to give, then with my head still lowered, my head on my hands, I told him that he had given me my life and family back. That he had saved Nirn. Saved the Pact. That I, and my House were forever in his debt.

Then other people came and gave him hugs and slaps on the back and cheers. the celebration of those of us who were there for the worst of it surrounded him with joy and praise.

At some point, Er-Jaseen asked about were Tharn was. I had assumed the worst and that he had not survived. And yet, it turned out that as soon as he had made it to the Hollow City, while the others were still recovering from being surrounded, he ran off and to a portal, presumably to his homeland.

Lyris wondered aloud if it had just been to steal the Amulet of Kings, but Er-Jaseen assured him that, according to what Meridia had told him, it would take many long years for the amulet to regain any power. Given Tharn’s age, I presume that he would not be able to get much out of the amulet unless he was willing to go down the slippery slope of sacrificing another life to it. I think he has likely seen enough to know that it would end up for the worst.

As Tel began digging through the soul gem piles again, Galerion arrived. I had mixed feelings about it. Of course he needed to be involved, he would have to help organize the process of sorting soul gems and trying to return them to those who they belonged to. And yet, I could not help but imagine that he was going to try and claim more than his fair share of responsibility for Er-Jaseen’s success. I made a note to myself that I should immediately begin to make songs that put Galerion properly in his realm of influence. Yes, he helped organize, but he was not the reason for the success of any single part of stopping the Planemeld. And I know that I want to solidify him as his proper place in history, an aid, support, organizer. Nothing more.

Er-Jaseen reported that, according to Meridia Herself, the tear in the veil between Nirn and Oblivion was repaired. Of course, Galerion began working a spell and did so for a long time before agreeing that it had been. As though the word of Nirn’s hero and a god were not enough for him to trust, only his own magicka. The arrogance.

Just as Er-Jaseen asked if there were vestiges left in the city and Galerion began to explain how many there may or may not be, Tel came over to me, another soul gem held gingerly in a palm. I did not need to ask to know that it was mine. I could feel Tel’s warmth inside me from where their hand was on the crystal.

My instinct was to try and get my soul back into me. I could feel a longing from not only myself, but from my soul inside the crystal, to try and get back into my body. I held it to my chest, half hoping it would just move from the soul gem into me.

Of course, it did no such thing. There was no way it could be so simple as that.

Then a fear struck me. If my soul were back in my body, I would become mortal once more. This body would be the last one I would get. And if I was to be killed in some manner or another, that would be it.

Yet, if I hid my soul gem somehow, then I could not be killed. It was something the House had feared, for they did not wish for me to become heir to the Grandmaster and then not be able to be killed. But I also knew that given the circumstances that uncle Tanval passed away, I was likely to be an even greater target of assassination than usual.

I did not want to be able to die. The pain of death was no gentle, warm light or peaceful darkness. It was a shot of pain and a twist of anguish. Sure, I would go on to an afterlife. Yet it would hardly be pleasant.

Then again, how could I be sure my soul gem would be protected? Someone only had to discover its location and destroy it. Or worse yet, someone find it by accident and use it, effectively ending me without any warning.

A sickening fear took hold in my belly. I felt nauseated.

A hand landed on my shoulder and I know I must have started, so lost in my thought as I had been. Lyris gave a chuckle and asked if we were ready to get back to Nirn.

I said I was very eager to get back.

Of course, I still felt ill from fear, but I did not want to be in this horrible plane any longer. I needed to get out of Coldharbour. I did not know what to do beyond that, but I needed to escape out.

Tel came with me with a smile and Er-Jaseen followed shortly afterwards.

Valos waited at the portal and asked us what Tel and Er-Jaseen and I were doing back here since he thought he had just sent us back to Nirn.

I tried to keep things light by saying we had to take a direct teleportation for our hero to face the Prince of Pain and give it back to him. Lyris laughed.

Sahan said he wanted to go back to Hammerfell and help his friend. Lyris said she was going with him. I could feel that there was definitely much developing between them. So we all wished them luck, since we were going back east. I gave Sahan a big kiss on the lips and Lyris another on the cheek and the rest exchanged hugs. Then they were off.

I turned to Er-Jaseen and Tel and asked if they would like to rest at my manor for a day or so, for old time’s sake.

Er-Jaseen looked down and said that there was something he had been wanting to do for a while back in Blackmarsh, but that he had been unable to do without his soul.

I told him that of course I understood and that we would not keep him from it, since I assumed it was to do with communing with his Hist tree.

Er-Jaseen shifted for a moment, face down before he looked up and sheepishly said that he was done with his male stage of life and needed the hist to take him into his female stage.

Well, that made a lot of sense. The Hist was integral to such a change. I congratulated him and said I expected that it was very exciting. After a moment of staring at me, a large grin spread across his face and he said he was very excited indeed.

Then he added that he was also going to see what he could learn back in Blackmarsh that could help him to try and save the Hist tree and villagers that were currently stranded in Coldharbour. I reminded him that I would assist in any way I could, he had only to ask. He thanked me and said he would do so if he needed additional support, but that in the meantime the Mages Guild was working with the villagers on ways to ween the tree off of Molag Bal’s poison so that they had a hope of transplanting it back on Nirn.

I invited Er-Jaseen to stay with me anytime he liked and he agreed to come and visit when he was in Morrowind again. I told him I looked forward to being able to converse under less stressful circumstances, then I kowtowed again. He looked a little confused, but I could not do anything less in my gratitude.

We said our goodbyes. I gave him a deep kiss. Tel gave him a hug. And then he was off, leaving Tel and I standing there with Valos, a question lingering in the air between us. And I realized that Tel had only been with me all this time for a single reason. To retrieve their soul.

Now that they had it back, would all that we had gone through together simply faded away to nothing?

I looked at Tel and asked where we should go. I half hoped they would say some foreign destination for us to spend a day or two relaxing, or back to Mournhold just to have a last night together.

Instead, Tel very excitedly said they wanted to get straight back to Vivec, the city, and presumably, the god as well. I smiled, forcing that twisting feeling of abandonment as deep down as I could. I said I guessed they had to get back to their post and stop playing around.

Tel spoke happily about how they had had to take leave the whole time and certainly would need to get back and get filled in on all that had happened since they were gone. They mentioned my duties to my House as well. I supposed they sensed my sadness, for they said empathically that we would keep in touch by letters and that if I wanted I could come and meet Vivec with them.

I said I would not mind going to the city to make sure they got settled back in and to share a last real meal, but that it might be a bit awkward for me to be around Vivec. I hoped it would seem more from my Velothi beliefs than from the fact that I do not enjoy the feeling of Vehk’s looming, levitating form. The short time I had an audience with him in the past I did not enjoy it. How could someone once mortal ever live up to my Prince’s standard, to Her power or grace? Warrior poet? More the title of a mortal noble than one who attained godhood. And I cannot stand the condescending way Vehk stares at you, like you are a particularly interesting specimen, even though he was once no different than any other mortal.

Tel frowned, but I told Valos we would like to go to Vivec and he nodded, changing the portal over for us. Tel took me by the arm before I even had the chance to thank Valos for everything and we were pulled through.

As I stood there, trying to clear my head from the dizzying remnants of the abrupt teleportation, I heard a discussion of two of the mages in the guild talking about how Meridia had helped with stopping the Planemeld and now it Meridia’s Summoning Day and how they suspected a link between both things. One of the mages said it would be a perfect opportunity to give offereings to Meridia.

I realized that when we had left for the final battle it had been Meridia’s Summoning Day. I wondered idly if Varen had planned that, knowing of her power and what she might offer to the fight.

I then realized that, although it had felt like two days since we left, it had, in fact, only been a few hours.

The passage of time in Oblivion is so frustratingly disorientating.

Now we are waiting for the clearance to go from the hub here in Mournhold onto Vvardenfell. I know I should not go with Tel. And yet, it feels as though there is so much unresolved between us, though I could not name anything that is. I... I just need to not be alone right now.

#ESO #TES #RP #Dunmer #Elder Scrolls Online #The Elder Scrolls

2 notes · View notes

ificouldflytotheclouds · 7 years ago

Text

I FORGOT

CALUM CONFIRMED THAT BABYLON IS GOING TO BE PERFORMED ON TOUR

WHAT EVEN

#besides update accounts idk the source but im going to take it as a 90%#they better #i honestly cant see them not #also just for the sake of not only having Luke heavy songs #but like thats clearly a fan fav and they cant NOT play certain fan favs ya feel #like unless it would take away from the integrity of the song/want to save it for certain settings idk #(im still shook that 1d performed spaces twices thats one of my fav 1d songs #I rarely listen to that tho bc harry goes off key at an important part and it makes me cringe)#the harmonies are beautiful in that though sounded even better live #5 seconds of summer #5sos #babylong #youngblood album #youngblood #calum hood #michael clifford #ashton irwin #luke hemmings

0 notes

artificialqueens · 5 years ago

Text

Free Falling, Chapter 11: Deeper Love (branjie) - writworm42

A/N: Last chapter, Brooke and the others get ready for the fundraiser and smack Gary tf down. This chapter: the fundraiser is finally here!

Title from THAT song from THAT lipsync. Sue me. Thank you holtzmanns for being the best beta and all-around pal a binch could have <3

Also, next chapter will be a smutty epilogue!

The first thing Vanessa noticed when she walked into the venue space on the day of the fundraiser is that the stations had been changed.

“Concessions? Nina, what do you mean, concessions, I was supposed to be on lost child duty.” Vanessa frowned when she looked up at the list and map that Nina had drawn for the day and put up towards the front of the hall they’ve rented out.

But Nina just shrugged. “The volunteers can handle it.” As she said it, Vanessa took a second look at the list, and the sudden switch made perfect sense.

“We already together, Nina, you ain’t need to put me with Brooke for everything.” Vanessa rolled her eyes, but Nina was already walking away towards the next concern, a shit-eating grin on her face.

God, Vanessa loved that sneaky bitch.

She looked up where the concession was set up on the map and headed over. Vanessa was pleased to find that it was towards the middle and side of the room, supplying a fantastic view of the goings-on around the venue. The fundraiser wasn’t opening for another hour, but the room was buzzing with people, volunteers, staff members and the youth advisory council members already setting up equipment, walking through their duties for the day, and completing any other of the millions of small tasks that popped up as opening time ticked closer and closer. The room was bursting with colour, streamers and balloons lighting up every wall and corner until all Vanessa could see was rainbows, bright blues and purples and yellows that eagerly welcomed guests inside. There was a giant stage towards the back of the room set up with raffle prizes and a microphone, and the floor was crawling with game tables and booths, each decorated with big, bright signs clearly indicating what they were offering. More active games like life-sized tic-tac-toe and adaptive bocce took up the centre of the room, and Vanessa was all too excited at the thought of kids gathering there to play and move around.

The most beautiful sight, though, was Brooke in a Charles-Visage Hospital t-shirt scooping popcorn seeds into their rented kettle, a giant popcorn-shaped hat on her head.

“Laugh it up all you want,” Brooke narrowed her eyes as Vanessa practically screamed with laughter, drawing the attention of pretty much everyone in the hall. “Wait until see the hat they’ve left for you.”

In retrospect, having to wear a giant wiener on her head was definitely, objectively worse.

The minutes kept ticking by closer and closer to opening as everyone scrambled to finish their set-ups, fussing over little details and cursing themselves for forgetting big but integral tasks. For the most part, Vanessa managed to tune out the noise, clinging to the rhythm of concession prep to keep herself calm. Brooke, for her part, was cheerful and enthusiastic, chattering about how she used to work at Kernels and how they never used to get to wear gloves when they were working, how her manicure had been saved—Vanessa listened to it all gladly, grateful for the distraction in the form of the woman next to her.

Only Brooke wasn’t trying to be distracting, not really—this was just Brooke when she was happy, and somehow, seeing her girlfriend get so excited only made Vanessa that much more calm, that much more happy herself.

All too soon, the rush died down, and there was silence in the hall, everyone holding their breath as they counted down the two minutes remaining until opening.

“This is amazing, Ness.” Brooke grabbed Vanessa’s hand and squeezed gently. “You’ve done a great job.”

It was only then that Vanessa noticed that she had been shaking.

“I just… I really want this to work, you know?” Vanessa sighed, chewing her lip. Brooke nodded.

“I just don’t think I could handle it if we did all this and still went under. I mean, all these families an’ kids… they got hope, Brooke. We gave it to ‘em. An’ I don’t want that all crushed thanks to a dumb idea you humoured for me.”

“It’s not a dumb idea, and I didn’t humour you–I think it’ll save us.” Brooke’s voice was adamant and matter-of-fact, her eyes serious, but the conviction did nothing to reassure Vanessa, not really.

It didn’t matter if Brooke had faith in her; when it came down to it, whether or not this was enough was still out of their control. And if it wasn’t, what would happen? The unit would get major cuts, if not dissolve completely, and sure, she’d probably land on her feet, but what was the point? There was no laughter in the adult units. No water-toys or impromptu in-session tricycle parades when your clients were thirty and stressed and just looking to get home, not to have the joy of home brought to them and make the best out of a less-than-ideal situation. Even outpatient didn’t have the same vibe; in outpatient, the kids didn’t all know each other and band together, and neither did the staff - you knew who you worked with, and everyone else was peripheral. And if she didn’t get kept by the hospital, what was Vanessa supposed to do then? Move to another hospital, another district, another city? Spend the rest of her career in the community? She cringed just thinking about driving from house, navigating client caps and never seeing another adult unless it was a client or the parent of one.

And what would happen to her and Brooke? Brooke would blame herself, for sure. Say that she underestimated some costs, overestimated returns, whatever kind of business mumbo-jumbo could come to her mind. Heck, knowing Brooke, she’d go as far as to blame the way she scooped out popcorn or some shit, anything she could to explain why they failed, anything she could to take the burden of falling short off the team. And then she’d be gone, whether or not the unit stayed open, because that’s what Brooke did. Blamed herself, told herself she was a burden, and then ran.

Vanessa couldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t let that happen. This had to work. It had to.

“Hey,” Brooke broke Vanessa’s daze, cupping her cheek with a soft, gentle hand. “Hey. It’s okay, Ness. It’s okay. We’re gonna do great today. I believe in you. And…” She bit her lip, shifting on her feet. Somewhere in the room, Silky called out a one-minute warning. Brooke wrapped Vanessa into a hug.

“I love you.”

Thirty seconds.

Vanessa couldn’t think any more.

“OPENING TIME!”

Before she could say anything else, the doors open, and a flood of people rushed through.

–

“Can I have everyone’s attention? CAN I HAVE EVERYONE’S ATTENTION PLEASE?” Nina shouted into the mic, raising her voice above the roar of the crowd. The fundraiser was drawing close but the energy of the attendees had barely diminished, kids and adults alike still coming through the doors to ask for whatever last-minute, $15-at-the-door tickets they had left. The concession stand had long been stripped empty, everyone who could eat rushing by to trade loonies for every type of snack they had on offer, and so Brooke and Vanessa had shed their hats and begun to run around to help out at the other booths. Still, they were only just getting to the main event, the grand finale everyone was waiting for.

“Thank you so much for coming out today, everyone.” Nina was practically beaming as the noise died down, all eyes on her. “I just wanted to say that I am truly touched by how many of you came to support the kids at Charles-Visage, and how much all of your generosity and enthusiasm has helped. Thanks to your tickets, raffle ticket, and donation-box offerings, we have raised a whopping $10,000. And that’s before we add everything up from concession!” Nina smiled and waved over at Brooke and Vanessa, who had rushed quickly back to their booth solely for this announcement and their moment of cameo-glory in it.

“I also want to say that we have amassed over one hundred new monthly donors, which is fantastic!” Nina continued, her cheeks going pink with excitement as she did. “And also, I want to thank the members of the media who came out today, getting our message of fun, inclusion, and hope out to folks everywhere! So everyone at home, be sure to check out the hospital’s website and click that donate button!”

It was just then that Vanessa noticed a host of newspeople in the back, journalists with paper pads and cameras around their neck and broadcasters holding mics out to hear all of Nina’s announcement.

Jesus Christ–the PR would be fucking fantastic , and Vanessa hadn’t even known that people would be interested in hearing about them. And she certainly hadn’t called the news outlets.

Brooke grinned at Vanessa, and her surprise turned into outright affection, lunging forward for a hug to thank her girlfriend for the amazing surprise.

“Thanks to everyone’s contributions,” Nina kept going, her voice now shaking with glee, “We not only have raised enough to help out kids with disabilities all over the area make strides towards achieving all their potential, we have also raised enough to welcome even more kids into the Charles-Visage community. That’s right, everyone–thanks to your generosity, our unit will be able to expand!”

The cheers were absolutely deafening, and Vanessa felt like she was absolutely floating on air.

She had done it. They had done it.

They’d won.

Vanessa still wasn’t really sure what happened next. Nina went on to announce the raffle winners, but Vanessa could barely hear her, could barely register anything at all. Everything was joy, excitement, pride, and Brooke. Brooke, extending a hug towards Vanessa and pulling her in for a long, giddy kiss. Brooke, whispering another I’m proud of you as they pulled apart. Brooke, chewing her lip as she bit back what Vanessa could guess was another I love you, something she was afraid that Vanessa didn’t want to hear a second time.

So Vanessa said it first, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I love you too, baby. And I can’t thank you enough.”

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #lesbian au #hospital au #fluff #free falling #writworm42

14 notes · View notes

lesbiansforboromir · 6 years ago

Note

Ok I’ve been thinking about “Boromir Lives Succession Crisis” fic all day and I would love your Opinion on how best to achieve the first half of that clause. I feel like there’s basically 3 options 1) Faramir goes on the quest instead 2) Frodo successfully slips off unnoticed and Boromir doesn’t confront him and the party isn’t split when the orcs attack 3) Everything happens as in the book but Boromir isn’t shot (1/2)

(2/2) I’m kind of leaning towards either 1 or 3. 1 because I think it would strengthen Boromir’s claim and pretty much eliminate any bond he developed with Aragorn over the quest, making him more likely to contest the claim, and it has the possibility for good Fari drama. 3 is probably more straightforward but gets real hairy in sorting out the specifics, as well deciding at what point Boromir’s opinion on Aragorn would change etc. Curious how you would handle it!

👀👀👀 I stan you specifically for letting me talk about this- OK SO.

I have played out each one of these possibilities with @emynarnens so many times that this is the only thing I’m qualified to do now. So to start off!

I don’t think I would recommend #1. Boromir’s effect on Aragorn is a pretty vital piece of Character development for him. Viggo Mortensen actually mentions it but we can see it in the Books too, Aragorn goes from considering the men of Rohan corruptible and weak willed to agreeing with Boromir that he does not believe they gave in too Sauron’s bribery. Essentially Boromir challenges Aragorn to rethink his attitude to humanity, both in others and within himself. Faramir is far too enamoured with the idea of Aragorn’s nobility and royalty and I don’t think he would challenge him in the same way, or at all really.

#2 and 3 do create issues in terms of the general plot of merry and pippin needing to be with the ents, but if Boromir doesn’t feel he betrayed the fellowship and committed a grievous crime he would perhaps feel a stronger sense of self worth and therefore is certainly shot but doesn’t quite die. Too wounded to stop the Hobbits from being taken, but not dead. Although I would also say that Boromir’s momentary madness and loss of control and the guilt he feels afterwards is also an important piece of character development for him, even if he dies immediately afterwards. He realises he sacrificed too much of his own integrity and lost too much hope in his single minded drive to defend Gondor. His sacrifice for two hobbits, who are just his friends, brings back some of that care and concern the Ring’s influence had worn away.

But have no fear! I wouldn’t call it necessary to take away any of what happened there. Remember in the books Boromir was not just pierced by three arrows, he was pierced by VERY many, and Pippin tells us Boromir was still up and fighting when he lost consciousness. Indeed, just before Pippin blacked out, he saw Boromir pluck a shaft from his side and continue with the battle, so reasonably the change simply could be ‘he wasn’t shot as much’. Obviously adhrenaline can keep you going and all that but these books are anything if medically sound and Boromir is just Like That. Wounded but not dead is a valid sacrifice and keeps the beats of the narrative intact.

I would also recommend this because there needs to be some reason Denethor believes his eldest son dead. It is a vital contribution to the darkness that eventually drives him to suicide and means you don’t have to work around Denethor also being alive when you’re talking about the whole issue with the coronation. Denethor can have witnessed a glimpse of Boromir’s fate through the Palantir, and then Faramir perhaps does find Boromir’s horn cloven in the river and Denethor takes this as proof of death in his darker state of mind.

With this in mind it’s also kind of necessary to have the hunters actually leave a wounded Boromir where he is and believe he will not survive. (I’d recommend this also just for the jab you can have Boromir give along the lines of, “What are you all waiting for? Will you compose a song for my funeral? The hobbits are getting further from you at every moment, go!” Because good god you three it’s enough to question how much you really care about your hobbit friends)

AND another thing is that this still allows Aragorn his indecision, whether to go with Frodo or rescue the Hobbits, which is also characterful and important. AND it reinforces Boromir’s love of the hobbits, demanding the three hunters leave him there to die in order to save them as he was unable too. There’s still a repentant sacrifice there.

But anyway the point is if Boromir is alive and perhaps found ‘dying but still with a chance’ by a company of Eored, then I would suggest he is forced to recover somewhere secluded throughout the events of Helms Deep. This is to make sure Pippin and Gandalf still think he is dead by the time they leave for Minas Tirith. It’s a shame because that would be cool for him to be involved, but if Pippin knows Boromir is alive then it’s unlikely that he wouldn’t tell Denethor that and, as I’ve said, Denethor’s grief is important.

If you really wanted Boromir at the battle at Helm’s Deep, you could go along the route of Denethor not believing Pippin, but that’s a stretch. I suppose you could also consider that the shock of it has already taken it’s toll on Denethor and even if he hears Boromir is alive, it’s done it’s job by the time Denethor believes Faramir will die and the City will be taken.

(Unless you do wanna contend with Denethor being alive which I also like but that does take away from the narrative simplicity of it just being about Boromir and Aragorn’s conflict and the complex emotions surrounding it. Denethor does not believe Aragorn should be king and it’s unreasonable to think Boromir would go against his father in this case so it detracts from the indecision somewhat. But I would say Denethor being dead is the better option just for this specific idea.)

As far as worrying about whether Boromir would contest Aragorn’s claim goes, I wouldn’t worry about that. Boromir never once accepts the idea of Aragorn as his King. Certainly they are friends, they work well together, he likes him, but his responsibility to his people and the laws of Gondor and his Father’s wisdom and wishes (especially now he’s dead) would supersede any personal connection they have. And really the best case Aragorn has for being worthy of the throne is ‘It was in a Prophecy and also people like me’ so Boromir has plenty of reason to be like… suspicious about Aragorn’s aptitude.

I think having them as friends adds some interesting emotional elements to it actually, the balance of friendship vs responsibility. You mentioned Boromir’s opinion of Aragorn changing, but the truth is it never does. Boromir essentially ignores the fact that Aragorn is asking for the Throne for the entire book and just accepts him as a man who’s willing to give aide to Gondor. Which is all Boromir really cares about at the time, not really expecting any of them to live long enough for this to be a problem. The conflict between him and Aragorn about the kingship is manufactured by the film entirely.

In the end the probability is that Aragorn would become king, Aragorn did a good job at becoming heroic and he does seem to have burst out of nowhere and saved everyone. Even the Lords are for it, it appears. I think the eventual crux of it would be the kinds of requests, clauses and checks Boromir would demand Aragorn agree too. How they should change the nature of a King’s rule to fit in with this more egalitarian society Gondor’s grown into. Boromir would also ensure Aragorn went through the proper channels, that a council of Lords was held and his Kingship debated and voted on, make the whole thing something everyone participates in and understands.

You mentioned Faramir drama too but we’ll get that in SPADES when he’s fighting with his brother over his treatment of Aragorn. Faramir really is thoroughly taken in by Aragorn’s mystique and his reaction to him is to cast off any and all tradition and agree to his coronation on the spot. This could also be because Aragorn saves his and Eowyn’s life, but still he and Boromir will have some serious issues, perhaps for the first time in their relationship so that’d be super fun to explore.

IN CONCLUSION!

I’d suggest absolutely nothing changes except for the severity of Boromir’s wounds. Aragorn still finds him, he still begs Aragorn to save Minas Tirith. The only difference is he verbally tells Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas to leave him and save Merry and Pippin and he is alive when they go though they do not expect him to recover.

He is found by some Eored and taken to a nearby Rohir settlement (In LOTRO it’s a small town called Walstow and the Thane is a little plagued by the Uruks running around so it could also be a kind of mini adventure for Boromir with helping them repel attacks and eventually being able to evacuate to Dunharrow?) But whatever happens, he doesn’t rejoin his friends until after Pippin and Gandalf leave for Minas Tirith.

addendum………………….

ON THE OTHER HAND…

I know everything I just said but like… forget it for a moment because I have a second suggestion that absolutely flounces every one of the points I just made but I like it because I’m a sap.

Gandalf slips up and tells them all on Caradhras that he doesn’t know the password into Moria.

Aragorn: “What?! Then why are we even discussing it? Boromir’s right, we should risk the Gap of Rohan, at least we will not be so enclosed.”

Gandalf: “I can figure the password out when we get there!”

Aragorn: “Tosh! We could be discovered, pursued or killed long before you rattle through every possible way inside. Nope! The Gap of Rohan it is!”

And then they make their way down south and oh wow! Here’s the Prince of Rohan and he has an entire camp of loyal soldiers who could defend this little party.

And Theodred exclaims ‘here is Boromir! My (love, partner, boy) friend! I, of course, trust him and his fellows. Let me just finish this skirmish- whoops! That was a close one thanks Boromir, who I love, for being here to save me from that Orc or I would have been dead! Wouldn’t that be terrible? Anyway we are still losing here so let me and Erkenbrand and Grimbold all escort you to safety.’

‘Oh? Your two young Hobbit friends left in the night did they? How strange, I hope they come to no harm but I suppose we shall all have to focus on defending Helms Deep for now. I’m very glad I’m here with you Boromir, to be a friendly face who knows when you are acting strangely and remind you of your humanity and softer side, you didn’t seem to be doing very well in the midst of these very strange and not particularly empathetic friends of yours!’

… Your choice of course ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#boromir #tolkien #aragorn #rescue-ram #tolkien meta #lotr #lord of the rings #I spent all day on this and it was great fun thank you #erran vs tolkien #text post #chats

112 notes · View notes

tessatechaitea · 5 years ago

Text

Wonder Twins #7

I didn't realize the Wonder Twins were Gen X.

Oh yeah! Zan had just saved the world by stopping a plot that was going to save the world.

I just realized I hadn't scanned the cover yet and as I did, I noticed the Wonder Twins fist/star emblem marks a striking resemblance to a goat.se riff. Zan and Jayna get taken off of monitor duty at the Hall of Justice now that they've stopped the League of Annoyance. You'd think that doing a good job would get you a promotion but those of use who have always done spectacularly good jobs know better. While everybody else works down to the lowest common denominator (because who wants to do more work than the next guy?! A fool, that's who!), good workers just put on blinders and do the job they were hired for until the time they're being paid for is up. Sure, that sounds like I'm describing a sucker who's been completely manipulated by the man! But I'm also describing a person who fulfills their end of whatever bargain they've agreed to! So when I say Zan and Jayna wind up giving tours at the Hall of Justice because they were too good at catching criminals, you'll understand why I went into the previous digression. Maybe? I don't know. Have you seen what state the U.S. is in?! Why are you picking apart my writing style?! Mark Russell takes a few pages to shit all over hockey fans and now I hate Mark Russell with a burning passion. Even though I'd hardly call myself a hockey fan. I mean, I loved NHL '93 (unless it was '92 (or maybe '94?)) and I loved going to San Jose Sharks games when I was still living in the Bay Area (plus my friend worked equipment for the Sharks and would get us free tickets). But it's not like I follow it much anymore. I just like the feeling of being angry at somebody for writing a satirical critique of sports fans rioting because they're so happy that their team won. Although why would I be angry when I've never done that nor think Russell's wrong in his pointed and humorous critique?! Oh, who cares why! Being angry is just more fun! Oh shit! I finally understand people's attraction to Fox News! I just watched a YouTube clip of somebody's Jeremy Roenick highlights from NHL '94 set to the song "More Than a Feeling" and it was pretty awesome. Also, that was definitely the one we played nonstop back in 1993 and 94 and maybe even into 95. Roenick unstoppable down with the puck while Sharks players lay splayed out on their back all across the ice. To stop the riot, Superman calls in Repulso! He's a guy whose super power is super stink and he's kept in a locked room with a bare table and a microwave and nobody wants to be his friend because he smells like a garbage dumb that vomited on top of the diarrhea it shit out while standing on its head so the stanky muck ran down his body absorbing all of his body odor and then somebody cut up a durian and tossed it in the mix.

Superman is a dick. Get this guy some friends with no sense of smell. Or at the very least, an Xbox Gold account.

After the hockey riots, some "the end of the world" riots take place because Zan and Jayna screw up something or other. Basically what that means is that Repulso gets to be let out of his airtight containment unit again! He's a pretty optimistic guy for being sealed away by Superman (which is just Superman's way! Is somebody a problem? No problem! Put them in the Phantom Zone!). He's so happy and not bitter about his living arrangements that I feel like Zan and Jayna had better figure out a way to give him a better life before this issue ends. Because if Mark Russell fails this character he created before this issue is over and I have to face reality after snot crying about a fictional person, I'm going to be pretty upset when I continue to buy Mark Russell comic books because what other choice do I have? Am I going to stop reading DC's best written comic books because Mark Russell betrayed poor Repulso? Of course not! What am I? A person with integrity?! Repulso winds up getting his ass beat by rioters as Repulso's handlers flee the chaotic "end of the world" downtown riot scene. Luckily the Wonder Twins are headed downtown to save his life and maybe become his friend or something? Please? After Zan and Jayna save Repulso, Jayna goes to Superman to tell him everything sucks. He gives her a big speech about how being a hero is lonely work because you don't always get to fuck the hot chick at your secret identity's workplace and also fuck an Amazon warrior while also getting to fuck anybody at all whose initials are "L.L." and also have a best friend who is the coolest guy in the world with a butler who makes the best pancakes. Sometimes you're a fat jerk who smells who even Superman won't fucking give the time of day because Superman has this speech about how being a hero is lonely and that's a good thing so you should embrace your loneliness because who wants to put up with your super stink, fatty?

Jayna is a way better hero than Superman. At least in this comic book that's all about her and not Superman so of course she's going to outshine him!

Oh yeah, the ant in the above picture is Jayna. It can't smell. Wonder Twins #7 Rating: A+. I should probably be less cynical when reading Mark Russell comic books because he's as earnest and serious as he can be while also providing lots of jokes. He takes writing seriously because what else is there? If your message isn't going to matter, why bother? (is his philosophy. I think. It's not my philosophy! I don't think? Maybe it is! I just write things that matter in a much different way than Mark Russell writes things that matter.) I should probably read Superman's speech and be inspired by the idea that you don't do good because you want adulation; you do good because it's the right thing to do, even if the entire world thinks you're an asshole for doing it. Even if all of the other superheroes think you're a stinky fuck and only keep you around to use as a tool to oppress and manipulate the masses without having to use logic and reason on them (because, let's face it, the people doing terrible things don't understand logic and reason. Or they're do but they're just selfish and greedy so nothing is going to reach them anyway (which maybe is part of Superman's message?)), you're still a hero at the end of the day. You can still be proud of your stinky self. And even if the life is lonely, you should remain positive and upbeat because Superman really doesn't want to be reminded that you exist every time you complain about the lack of reasonable living conditions. Being a hero is a state of mind, says the guy who also looks great and is invulnerable and has the best wife and a cool son and doesn't have to fear death! So inspiring!

#Wonder Twins #Mark Russell #Stephen Byrne #DC Comics #DC

4 notes · View notes

artofdigression · 6 years ago

Text

I’m 23 years old. The 2 years leading up to now have been a complete whirlwind, but somehow, in this time, an actual music career has begun. I’m a composer, a producer, a singer, a songwriter, a visual artist - among many labels.

I sit in front of my piano. I know how to play all of 2 pieces - Gnossiennes 1 & 2 by Erik Satie. I learned them by ear 4 years ago while working the reception desk of an art gallery that had two baby grand pianos hidden underneath the stairs. I would get bored when no one else was in the gallery and venture down.

In my studio, I have piles of introductory music books, minuets and ballads laying around - some given to me at a young age, some passed down by dead relatives who knew I had a ‘good ear’ - or were maybe too dead to give a shit about where their old sheet music went by the time I got my hands on it.

I decide, for what feels like the 100th time, that I will learn how to read music.

I had my first piano lesson when I was 10 years old. My piano teacher was nice - a young, lanky, 20-something music student who wore beanie hats and played electric guitar in a rock band. I thought he was pretty much the coolest and wanted to be him. Unfortunately, I don’t think he was particularly ‘stoked’ in the same capacity to work with me. I had very little enthusiasm for any of the mind-numbingly boring rudimentary theory curriculum, the limited repertoire I had to choose from (away in a manger or… the other version of away in a manger) made me want to rip my hair out, and reading sheet music would send my mind into kaleidoscope-vision.

I would also have kaleidoscope-vision in school. I struggled with school. I was a rambunctious little human. My attention span was uncontrollable (unless we were reading or drawing, then I absolutely paid attention). Looking over old report cards, there was a lot of ‘needs to stay on task’ and ‘could use help with organization’ - anecdotal pieces of advice I heard so much, I think the meanings eventually became hollow to me (or maybe the meanings were just hollow to begin with).

Getting me to sit still for 30 minutes was an excruciating feat for any adult in my life, so 2 hours? 3 hours? 6 hours? Good god, I wanted to climb the walls. When the teacher would start talking, I would look past their gaze - into Lala Land as adults disdainfully called it. (I still deeply hate calling it Lala Land, but, for continuity purposes, we’re going to reclaim the name in neon lights.)

Lala Land was great. Real life? Not so much. In real life, from third grade until high school graduation, my teachers (with the exception of 3 gems) were blatantly judgemental of me. They’d think nothing of admonishing me in front of my peers if I fidgeted or looked out a window.

Because the amount of physical energy I had was not conducive to a classroom environment, I learned to dissociate from my body. Because looking out a window meant I was not looking at a chalkboard, I learned to look past the chalkboard to find Lala Land, its neon letters burning behind my absent gaze. Past the letters, there would be a window. I could look out the window and its glass panes could evaporate and autumn’s leafy gusts of wind could sweep me away and I’d never have to worry about a messy desk or a missed assignment or classroom of judgemental eyes looking at me again. The next day’s fantasy would be the same, but different.

Children’s imaginations are often playful and fantastical. Take a kid with a traumatized brain, however - and imagination can give them a seemingly supernatural ability to create, in their mind, what they need for emotional survival. That was me.

There were parts of my childhood that were truly blissful, gorgeous, hilarious and nurturing. But I’d be denying you, dear reader, important context if I didn’t tell you that a significant part of my young formative years was steeped in grief, chaos and abandonment. I assure you need not build castles in the air in understanding that I was a child with a traumatized brain. And though I was surviving, trauma had created a faceless, nameless internal chaos for me that I didn’t truly even recognize until adulthood. Trauma changes the way brains function. That’s a lot for a kid to be dealing with.

In piano lessons, my teacher would sit with me and we would go over the theory of a piece of sheet music - that was my brain’s cue to look past the kaleidoscope paper, nodding “yes, mhm, got it.” But then, when he’d clap the rhythm of the piece, my brain would engage and I’d clap the same rhythm back, no problem. After that, he would play the piece for me as an example - this was where my brain would hyper-focus. I would retain, retain, retain, and I would play the piece back, not reading a note, but looking past the page all the same. This wasn’t a ploy to dupe him. This was a system of which neither of us were consciously aware. I was just 10, and playing piano.

Outside of school, I was different. I was encouraged to sing, I would go to my parents’ choir practices every week and sit in the pews of Saint Mary’s Church and listen to 30 voices reverberate through it. I would shoot the shit with adults and carry around books about Roman mythology and Egyptian hieroglyphs and I would talk about how I wanted to travel the whole world and I would make 1-page comics and I would dress up my dog and I loved the ballet costumes from Stravinsky’s Firebird and… I digress.

Outside of school, I was different. Music calmed my internal landscape enough for me to be myself. No - actually, music calmed my immediate surroundings enough for me to make sense of my internal landscape… Actually, both.

On a borrowed piano, I would sit and endlessly ear out songs (Carmen, movie soundtracks I liked, songs my mom sang, etc). I would walk into my Saturday lesson and proudly showcase the self-taught triumphs of Sunday through Friday for my teacher, only to be met with a brief pat on the back and the god-damn sheet music to 'away in a manger’ - which I still hated and still couldn’t read, but played anyway. After 5 months, I eventually made it clear to all parties involved that I was done with piano, and my parents finally gave into my weekly protests.

When I was 7th grade, I started playing french horn in the school band and, for whatever reason, continued for 6 and a half years. I still saw through a kaleidoscope when I got a piece of music, but there was one other french horn player in my class so I usually copied what she did - Unless we had different parts in which case I fumbled constantly through band practice until I finally figured out what I was playing. Band, generally, had a negative impact on my relationship with music. I think the only reason I stuck with it was because the feeling of playing music with such a large group of people triggered some kind of dopamine rush that my brain loved. I would get ASMR - auto sensory meridian response - also known as “that fuzzy, warm, calm feeling in the centre of your brain” - some folks experience it and some folks don’t.

A lot of changes in my home life happened in that 6-and-a-half-year period. After years of week-on, week-off pivots between my mother and father’s separate homes, my father permanently moved to Sweden when I was 13. My mother became my primary parent while dealing with the loaded blows of bankruptcy and multiple reckonings around her own life challenges. We moved into a home that had completely gutted walls and plywood floors (left unfinished by previous tenants with renovation goals too ambitious to finish). The situation was chaotic. So, so chaotic. But, from that time up to now, my mother was (and continues to be) an incredible support to me. She could see that I was struggling, and did everything in her power to advocate for me when I couldn’t advocate for myself. I can only imagine the feeling of knowing something is not right with your child and being told by everyone around you that your child is fine. Her support was integral.

When I was in 9th grade, she and my homeroom teacher (also a phenomenal support to me at the time) pulled some strings to have an initial psychological assessment performed on me - not technically “official” - as it was conducted by a student of psychology, I recall - nevertheless, it provided enough insight to validate that there was an underlying dissonance between what most of my teachers were saying about me (lazy, bad attitude, etc) and what was actually going on in my head, and that a formal assessment would be necessary to help me. My name was put on the waiting list for a psychologist that year. But, the entire island had only 1 or 2 psychologists available (Totally appalling). And so I waited... And waited... And waited... And while I waited, I continued to find refuge in my visual art practice, as well as learning other instruments on my own terms.

I refuse to say something cliche like “art and music saved my life” because creativity isn’t a sustainable singular lifeline for anyone, and believing so feeds into the highly problematic mental health stigma as it pertains to those who create for a living... But art and music did play key roles in tempering my inner storms. Now, as a musician, I allow my craft to be a teacher, not a therapist.

When I was 16, I went to my first voice lesson. I kept at it for a year, and… excelled? I totally excelled - personally and musically. This did wonders for my confidence (I attribute a lot of that to my voice teacher at the time, who had a really supportive and receptive approach to my weird energy levels and the idiosyncratic ways I learned). I did festivals, took a Royal Conservatory exam - and I was still excelling, which honestly shocked me at the time because I was so used to failing everything.

Oh, also, I could still barely read the music. Kaleidoscopic forever.

Many classically trained musicians describe the experience of being overwhelmed when they get a new piece of music (especially if it has theory components they may not be familiar with or something) - totally normal. But then, they concentrate, deconstruct it from the page section-by-section and eventually learn to play it with neurotypical grace. Deconstructing written music on the page to understand what was happening became a little bit less nauseating as I was exposed to it more. I WORKED at theory and understood parts of it, but only… theoretically. Being able to transcribe that (limited) understanding into playing? That never happened for me. The page would remain kaleidoscopic until it felt like my brain was just going to short-circuit and cave in on itself. It was weird, and trying to describe to anyone in band class (teachers and students alike) made me feel like I was on a different planet. So, when the heat was on (whether that was in performance or in private lessons or “sight singing”) I kept relying on my ears and refined my ability to hold my own in band concerts, private voice lessons, choirs, musical theatre productions.

Meanwhile, in high school, my academic life was still basically the worst. I had adversarial relationships with nearly all of my teachers. I barely passed each year. Emotionally, I also had a lot of anger seething below the surface of my consciousness. I had internalized so much of what so many teachers had told me - that I was smart but lazy, that I had a bad attitude, that I was disruptive, distracted, manipulative etc. - and having gone through some pretty drastic events that effectively destabilized my home life, this all had a profoundly negative impact on my self-worth.

One year later, I was 17, in 12th grade and school issues had not gotten any better (still muddling through - grades between 40% and 60%). I had just given up at this point… Except now, instead of having the teachers before, who were mostly unhelpful, but at least straight-up about being judgemental of me based on my “laziness” diagnosis, I had a haul of teachers that were giving me these new weekly out-in-the-hall John Keating-wannabe-motivational speeches, telling me how much “potential I have” and how “I’m wasting it away” by “not trying” in class (every hollow pull-up-your-socks/nose-to-grindstone idiom in the book. It was infuriating at the time). I’m sure most of them just wanted to help. But I needed someone to listen more than I needed someone to talk at me.

A helpful thing that DID come out of 12th grade (4 years after my name had been put on the list… shoutout to our provincial government for still not caring about investing in public mental health) was that I finally got access to a provincial psychologist. She came during the second semester of grade 12 and did extensive testing on me to find (surprise! but… not really) ADHD - which explained the colossal difficulties I was having in my academic life due to my chaotic brain not letting me get my shit together in the ways I was being told by neurotypical folks around me to get my shit together.

For those that aren’t informed about ADHD - it’s a form of neurodivergence that can manifest in too many ways to name here, but to fit an elephant in a minivan: There’s that part of the brain that naturally helps you regulate your attention/concentration/sleep/energy levels/appetite/feelings/working memory/pretty much anything remotely involving executive functioning… That’s nice, right? I wouldn’t know because apparently mine’s broken. There is also extensive research that directly links ADHD to childhood trauma, as well as biochemical imbalances in the brain.

I could get all in-depth about ADHD science right here, but this is my story, not an essay, and it would make for an even longer and more digressive tangent that would likely overshadow THE OTHER SIGNIFICANT THING the psychologist noted in my evaluation.

Amidst a bunch of my brain skills that were, statistically, above average for my age - like my working vocabulary and ability to retain auditory information - many of my visual processing skills - meaning, things like reading something and copying it down accurately or following written instructions without constantly needing to reference them - were shockingly below average for my age. The tests showed that this was something my brain had immense difficulty doing.

What’s an example of a visual processing issue in school? Well, I was always the last kid to finish copying text from the board (and I mean, like, multiple paragraphs behind my peers) before the teacher could move on to the next page.

What’s an example of a visual processing issue in music? Reading written notes and playing them on an instrument. When I heard a piece of music, however, I could learn it very quickly.

Knowing what was going on in my brain brought me a whole world of clarity and validation. I knew that I was going to lead an unconventional life because of it (whatever “a conventional life” means these days). I knew that most post-secondary education would be inaccessible to me as a result of my grades and probably be, at that point, more harmful than helpful.

Knowing what was going on in my brain helped me to understand what I didn’t need anymore. I didn’t need the validation of my teachers or my peers. I didn’t need a number on any piece of paper to determine my competence or ‘work ethic.’

Letting go of school was the best thing I’ve done for myself.

I graduated high school with nothing but a 64% average, and an ADHD diagnosis as my only tools in understanding how to get on a path to thriving as an adult human. liberating. frustrating. terrifying - but not really. mostly liberating.

Then, my ADHD became manageable and my life got easy and I had no self-esteem issues ever again.

… No. That’s not how life works. I’m 23 years old. I’ve been out of the school system for 6 years. I have deeply instilled productivity guilt (ie. I take on way more tasks than humanly possible to finish in ridiculously tight deadlines), I struggle with anxiety in thinking that friends and coworkers are saying negative things about my personality or quality of work behind my back (maybe my exes and high school math teachers are hanging out?? THE HORROR), my heart sinks into my stomach anytime any human watches me work over my shoulder (I’m a music producer, so if I’m working on songs with people, I become a blundering internal wreck when they understandably want to see what I’m editing). School did those things to me - which leads me into the accountability part of this long-winded ADHD realtalk.

I’d be withholding the truth from you if I didn’t say my teachers played key roles in aggravating my behavioural/emotional/learning difficulties by disputing them as personality flaws. My frustration in learning would be met, at worst, with punishment and put-downs (I remember not having recess for nearly an entire week somewhere in the first half of 4th grade - which I think is a cruel thing to do to any child, let alone one with energy levels like mine). I would be met, at best, with more hollow, invalidating advice - more ‘need to stay on task’ with a twist of ‘gotta give it yer all’ and ‘well, maybe if you actually tried…’

None of these messages sent to me were helpful. I’m still working to unravel those knots.

This is not a dig at those teachers who saw me as the problem child (rather than seeing me as a kid who just needed support and a different work environment. There were about 3 teachers in 10 years who understood that, and did everything in their power to help. They know who they are and I’m grateful for them.) I understand how frustrating it is to be pushed to your limit - especially within the bounds of a job that requires you to keep your shit together in some capacity. I understand that we that we all do our best with the tools we have at the time. There are no hard feelings - But, I encourage self-reflection and future accountability for your impact on the way you treat any child in your life - because they are just that: a child. Your impact can be profoundly helpful or harmful. You will never know what a child is going through until they feel safe enough to tell you. I didn’t feel safe with many adults - which is why most of my relationships with authority were adversarial ones. I’m not offering a solution. I’m just offering a glimpse into my experience. That’s all this is. Take it or leave it.

When a child is told again and again by the daily authoritative figures in their life that they have an attitude problem, that they are disruptive, lazy, manipulative, attention-seeking, a liar, a cheater (the list can go on but I won’t let it) - I guarantee you, the child will eventually believe it. And I did. I deeply internalized these labels to the point of identifying with them. I’m still working hard as an adult to remind myself that while many of my teachers accused me of causing chaos in my learning environment, I was simply (and unknowingly) mirroring my own internal chaos. The chaos I had created around me was a cry for help, not admonishment.

To further the accountability segment of this experience I’m sharing with you, though I can’t offer a solution to “fix” the institution of public education (because institutions generally don’t function unless they’re flawed to begin with), I think a set of solutions may lie somewhere within trauma-informed and neurodivergence-informed teaching and the public school system being provided with the adequate resources to embrace neurodivergent students - to embrace traumatized students, not accommodate them. I think a set of solutions may lie somewhere within mental health being taken seriously (with FUNDING, not lip service) by the Government of Prince Edward Island. That’s all I’ll say for now.

I don’t think my experience is special - far from it. In fact, I know that my experience is not, and never will be one-of-a-kind. I started writing this when I sat in front of a piano and tried to do what my brain would never let me do. I looked past the page and saw this part of my life staring back at me. I’m not even a writer, but I felt like I had to write it down. Looking back, I realize that I didn’t even begin to understand my own story until someone else told me theirs.

So - whether you’re a teacher or a student or both - if you’re struggling in the school system, this is dedicated to you. If you have been turned away and invalidated by those supposed to help you, you need to know that the labels placed upon you only hold as much power over you as you allow. Being pained by what you can’t control doesn’t make you weak, it makes you a survivor. Surviving is hard. Surviving is so hard, but you will begin to heal.

I’m 23 years old. I’m many things. I read music with my ears. I’m mastering the art of looking past what’s in front of me.

- Russell Louder

#adhd #music #neurodivergence

4 notes · View notes

gascon-en-exil · 6 years ago

Text

I Liked Fates Before It Was Cool!: Birthright Part 1

Prologue

Opening Chapters

Chapters 6-11, in which Hoshido’s military is extremely disorganized and only regroups because the mere idea of Ryoma is just that awesome.

Chapter 6

Not much to say here. Corrin tells Xander they’re siding with Hoshido against Garon and implores him to do the same, Xander accuses them of being brainwashed and, after repeated refusals, tries to kill Corrin. Following this is a chapter that will probably be finished during the first enemy phase unless Ryoma gets really unlucky. I suppose it makes sense that this is the shortest of the three versions of Chapter 6 as Corrin went to the border already with the Hoshidans. While it’s kind of neat that all the Hoshidan royals are playable on this map as a bit of a preview, note that this is the fourth of just seven chapters in which Ryoma has appeared as a unit prior to his formal recruitment. We get it already, the guy’s an OP powerhouse and a clear favorite of the writers.

This is also where I should probably bring up My Castle, but I don’t have much to say here as it was never a feature I particularly enjoyed. Other FEs have addressed the concept of a base for your army integrated into gameplay far better than this. Genealogy and the Tellius games and others may not let you perv on your units taking a bath or disgust them with your horrendous cooking, but what does that really add to the experience? I know, I know, a bunch of small and scattered stat boosts....

Chapter 7

Oh, silly banter in the middle of an attack while surrounded by wounded and dying soldiers. Never change, FE. But seriously, even if he’s just Cordelia with a dick whose semen produces more Cordelias let’s take the time to appreciate that Subaki is the series’s first playable male pegasus knight. Fates’s take on classes is actually very egalitarian, a fact that often gets lost in its sea of fanservice and subtle story-enforced misogyny and everything about <insert character whose gender/sexuality-related presentation offends you most>. Moving on.

I’m still not entirely clear what happens to the Hoshidan army between this chapter and the preceding one. They really appear to just break ranks and scatter: Corrin and co. go fool around in the astral plane with Lilith, Ryoma and Takumi lead some of their forces toward Izumo (why?), no one cares about Hinoka, and Sakura retreats here to Fort Jinya to tend to the wounded at a makeshift military hospital. It makes sense that the Hoshidan army wouldn’t have the strictest organization thanks to their years of protection under Mikoto’s barrier, but the problem is the game never tells us that and we’re left to infer these things based on the events of the next few chapters.

The Nohrians meanwhile are still on the offensive, but they screwed up by sending Silas’s unit to attack the fort. Silas has an unhealthy attachment to Corrin that frankly rivals Camilla’s, and his abrupt defection here because he wants to hang out with his partially amnesiac BFF undoubtedly bodes ill for anyone associated with him when news of it reaches Nohr. I guess it’s cute in my case that Silas’s obsession with Corrin knows no gender, but the guy probably steals underwear to sniff. Saizo is entirely justified in being suspicious of him.

Paralogue 1

Oh yeah, I forgot all about this chapter. Mozu’s just not as memorably meme-worthy as Donnel, and recruiting her is less frustrating since you’re not forced to make her poke things in her joining chapter. It does make the Faceless seem like more of a threat to Hoshido, although as a consequence playing through this paralogue in Conquest always feels a little weird. This plus the first Castle Invasion were mostly for EXP and support farming. For anyone wondering, I’m going to be keeping most of my characters in their default class sets since I don’t feel like grinding skills or anything elaborate like that. Also, I’m playing on Normal, so I’ve got a lot of latitude in how I play which is how I prefer FE anyway.

Chapter 8

Hinoka sums up my feelings on her and her retainers. Azama’s got some amusing lines and if I knew more about Buddhism his...interesting take on philosophy would probably be even funnier, but that’s about it. And yeah, Hinoka really just does pop onto the scene with no explanation except that she’s also trailing her brothers and I guess everyone really did forget about her. Sucks to be a late development addition.

Iago tosses the conflict ball to ensure the party’s trip to the Wind Tribe village is a rough one, though since Fuga was set on testing Corrin’s worth by sending a bunch of his tribesmen to get slaughtered by their army anyway I wonder why he even bothered. This is a rare case of a desert map that isn’t a frustrating pain in the ass, because it’s small and there are Dragon Veins to reduce the amount of sand. I also like how even on the lowest difficulty of the easiest route the game is already throwing a boss at you with some annoying skills. Fuga’s motivations may be silly, but at least he leaves us with the memory of a good chapter, some cryptic foreshadowing for the Yato, and a shota wind mage who unfortunately continues in the tradition of Ricken stepping away from their archetypical dynamic after Tellius made it just a little too close to explicitly gay.

Chapter 9

Izana, huh...Izana is...

Let’s talk about Zola!

Zola is one of the rare Fates villains who isn’t (always) exactly what he looks like. On first glance he’s just a typical simpering syncophant with a fitting talent for illusions, but he actually comes with a bit of a character arc in Birthright which I have to say I wasn’t expecting. It was almost as unexpected as Leo’s unexplained appearance at the end of this chapter to kick off said arc by leaving Zola exiled. One big problem I have with Fates is how characters have a tendency to teleport around off-screen as the plot demands it, distance between locations or basic geography be damned, but it’s marginally more forgivable here since Leo is shown later in this route to know how to perform literal teleportation.

I believe this is also one of the only times in Birthright where Hinoka gets to do something that affects the plot, so good on her for acting suspicious of fake!Izana. She’ll go right back to being overshadowed by her brothers - including being overshadowed at being overshadowed - soon enough.

Izumo’s role as the designated neutral nation is delved into more thoroughly in Conquest, weirdly enough. Here Corrin and co. get left only with a vague directive to head toward the Bottomless Canyon and some of Azura’s song lyrics. That’s kind of a good thing, because I’ve got nothing on Izana now. I get that he’s an amusing surprise the first time around, but...who wrote him like that?

Chapter 10

Allow me to divert for a moment from the Takumi angst to pick some very large nits with the geography of this game. In the previous chapter Corrin learned that Ryoma and Takumi had been pushed to the Bottomless Canyon, which is nowhere near their location - but hold onto that thought. The canyon is clearly northwest of Izumo, yet the party goes south to Mokushu allegedly in an effort to reach them there. Fates has a bad time in general with giving a good impression of where its events are taking place, partly because the scale of the map is odd and not helped by it being a topographic rather than a political map like in every other FE, partly because there are times like this where the information presented appears to be simply wrong. What’s worse, the major plot development surrounding Takumi’s possession in Birthright does not, at least so far as I recall, necessitate that he have been possessed by Anankos or anyone else connected to the Bottomless Canyon. I’ll certainly be revisiting this when the time comes.

But...whatever. In spite of everyone getting lost except Ryoma (because of course) this is actually a good chapter, with a cramped map filled with environmental hazards to add challenge. The treachery of Mokushu spans all three routes and is one of those set pieces that benefits from development in each of them. Kotaro’s connection to the, er, Christmas ninjas (and elsewhere, Shura) isn’t developed here unless you choose to have them engage him in combat, but that just saves stuff for the other routes.

Chapter 11

Pictured: easily one of the most forgettable playable characters in this game. It’s a shame too, because she’s the only default kinshi knight and her bits of dialogue and few supports offer hints of an interesting backstory that would speak to gender roles in Hoshido. Alas, she’s merely a Corrinsexual.

This chapter itself is filler, but mechanically it’s good filler. Your new OP archer royal gets plenty of targets for his bow, there are some promoted generics to spice things up, and the Dragon Veins can either help or hinder you depending on how you use them. I don’t care for the antagonist fake-out between the opening and closing cutscenes and the chapter proper - where did possessed!Sumeragi the mysterious swordsman go while you were fighting the fliers? - but that’s a minor quibble. Corrin already beat that guy.

A larger problem is with Takumi’s development, or rather lack thereof. As I said last time the events of the opening chapters explain his initial hostility to Corrin (and Azura) quite well, and Mikoto’s death only reinforces that feeling. Why then does that hostility vanish so quickly in Birthright? Just one chapter after recruitment and he’s already turned his characteristic prickliness onto Zola instead, and I don’t recall it appearing much again except in the context of possession. It’s only the route the ends with Takumi as the final boss that allows him space for his feelings to develop organically (albeit in a negative direction), possibly because Conquest is the only one in which he’s not beholden to love Corrin like all playable characters in Avatar-centered games.

Next time: Birthright Chapter 12 - 18

#Fire Emblem #Fire Emblem Fates #Fire Emblem Birthright #FE14

8 notes · View notes

dfroza · 3 years ago

Text

Today’s reading from the ancient book of Proverbs and book of Psalms

for August 4 of 2021 with Proverbs 4 and Psalm 4, accompanied by Psalm 46 for the 46th day of Astronomical Summer and Psalm 66 for day 216 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 4]

Gather, children, to hear your father’s instruction.

Pay close attention so you will understand,

For I am passing down to you important precepts.

Do not abandon these valuable life lessons.

Back when I was young—the very image of my father,

and yet from my mother’s view, still her only boy—

My father, with his years of experience, became my teacher.

Father: Son, grab on to every word I say to you—hold them close—

stay true to my instructions as you live, and they will serve you well.

Whatever it takes to gain Wisdom, do it.

To gain understanding, do it! Never forget this!

Never stray from what I am telling you.

If you don’t forsake Lady Wisdom, she will protect you.

Love her, and she will faithfully take care of you.

Gaining sound judgment is key, so first things first: go after Lady Wisdom!

Now, whatever else you do, follow through to understanding.

Cherish her, and she will help you rise above the confusion of life—

your possibilities will open up before you—

embrace her, and she will raise you to a place of honor in return.

She will provide the finishing touch to your character—grace;

she will give you an elegant confidence.

Hear my words, my son, and take them in;

let them soak in so that you will live a long, full life.

I have pointed you in the way of wisdom;

I have steered you down the path to integrity.

So get going. And as you go, know this: with integrity you will overcome all obstacles;

even if you run, you will not stumble.

Tighten your grip around wise advice; don’t let it slip away.

Protect Wisdom, for without her, life isn’t worth living.

Do not start down the road of the wicked—

the first step is easy, but it leads to heartache—

do not go along the way of evildoers.

Stay away from it; don’t even go past it—

and if you find yourself anywhere near it,

turn your back and run as far as you can in the opposite direction.

For evildoers are so twisted they cannot sleep unless they have caused harm;

they’ll lie awake all night until they figure out a way to cause someone to stumble.

For they feed on evil the way most eat bread;

they drink violence the way most guzzle wine.

Yet the way of those who do right is like the early morning sun

that shines brighter and brighter until noon.

Evildoers travel a dark road because they love to hide their deeds in darkness;

they can’t see the perils ahead that cause them to stumble.

My son, pay attention to all the words I am telling you.

Lean in closer so you may hear all I say.

Keep them before you; meditate on them;

set them safely in your heart.

For those who discover them, they are life.

They bring wholeness and healing to their bodies.

Above all else, watch over your heart; diligently guard it

because from a sincere and pure heart come the good and noble things of life.

Do away with any talk that twists and distorts the truth;

have nothing to do with any verbal trickery.

Keep your head up, your eyes straight ahead,

and your focus fixed on what is in front of you.

Take care you don’t stray from the straight path, the way of truth,

and you will safely reach the end of your road.

Do not veer off course to the right or the left;

step away from evil, and leave it behind.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 4 (The Voice)

[Psalm 4]

For the worship leader. A song of David accompanied by strings.

Answer my prayers, O True God, the righteous, who makes me right.

I was hopelessly surrounded, and You rescued me.

Once again hear me; hide me in Your favor;

bring victory in defeat and hope in hopelessness.

How long will you sons of Adam steal my dignity, reduce my glory to shame?

Why pine for the fruitless and dream a delusion?

[pause]

Understand this: The Eternal One treats as special those like Him.

The Eternal will answer my prayers and save me.

Think long; think hard. When you are angry, don’t let it carry you into sin.

When night comes, in calm be silent.

[pause]

From this day forward, offer to God the right sacrifice from a heart made right by God.

Entrust yourself to the Eternal.

Crowds of disheartened people ask, “Who can show us what is good?”

Let Your brilliant face shine upon us, O Eternal One, that we may know the undeniable answer.

You have filled me with joy, and happiness has risen in my heart, great delight and unrivaled joy,

even more than when bread abounds and wine flows freely.

Tonight I will sleep securely on a bed of peace

because I trust You, You alone, O Eternal One, will keep me safe.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 4 (The Voice)

[Psalm 46]

For the worship leader. A song of the sons of Korah, a song for sopranos.

This song is attributed to the sons of Korah. It praises God for His strength and protection and for Jerusalem and its temple where God uniquely dwells. It invites the world to witness a future when wars and striving will cease and all the nations know and worship the one True God.

God is our shelter and our strength.

When troubles seem near, God is nearer, and He’s ready to help.

So why run and hide?

No fear, no pacing, no biting fingernails.

When the earth spins out of control, we are sure and fearless.

When mountains crumble and the waters run wild, we are sure and fearless.

Even in heavy winds and huge waves,

or as mountains shake, we are sure and fearless.

[pause]

A pure stream flows—never to be cut off—

bringing joy to the city where God makes His home,

the sacred site where the Most High chooses to live.

The True God never sleeps and always resides in the city of joy;

He makes it unstoppable, unshakable.

When it awakes at dawn, the True God has already been at work.

Trouble is on the horizon for the outside nations, not long until kingdoms will fall;

God’s voice thunders and the earth shakes.

You know the Eternal, the Commander of heavenly armies, surrounds us and protects us;

the True God of Jacob is our shelter, close to His heart.

[pause]

Come, gaze, fix your eyes on what the Eternal can do.

Amazing, He has worked desolation here on this battlefield, earth.

God can stop wars anywhere in the world.

He can make scrap of all weapons: snap bows, shatter spears,

and burn shields.

“Be still, be calm, see, and understand I am the True God.

I am honored among all the nations.

I am honored over all the earth.”

You know the Eternal, the Commander of heavenly armies, surrounds us and protects us;

the True God of Jacob is our shelter, close to His heart.

[pause]

The Book of Psalms, Poem 46 (The Voice)

[Psalm 66]

Thank You, Lord

For the Pure and Shining One

A song of awakening

Everyone everywhere, lift up your joyful shout to God!

Sing your songs tuned to his glory!

Tell the world how wonderful he is.

For he’s the awe-inspiring God, great and glorious in power!

We’ve never seen anything like him!

Mighty in miracles, you cause your enemies to tremble.

No wonder they all surrender and bow before you!

All the earth will bow down to worship;

all the earth will sing your glories forever!

Pause in his presence

Everyone will say, “Come and see the incredible things God has done;

it will take your breath away!

He multiplies miracles for his people!”

He made a highway going right through the Red Sea

as the Hebrews passed through on dry ground,

exploding with joyous excitement over the miracles of God.

In his great and mighty power he rules forever,

watching over every movement of every nation.

So beware, rebel lands; he knows how to humble you!

Pause in his presence

Praise God, all you peoples.

Praise him everywhere and let everyone know you love him!

There’s no doubt about it: God holds our lives safely in his hands.

He’s the one who keeps us faithfully following him.

O Lord, we have passed through your fire;

like precious metal made pure,

you’ve proved us, perfected us, and made us holy.

You’ve captured us, ensnared us in your net.

Then, like prisoners, you placed chains around our necks.

You’ve allowed our enemies to prevail against us.

We’ve passed through fire and flood,

yet in the end you always bring us out better than we were before,

saturated with your goodness.

I come before your presence with my sacrifice.

I’ll give you all that I’ve promised, everything I have.

When I was overcome in my anguish,

I promised to give you my sacrifice.

Here it is! All that I said I would offer you is yours.

I’ll throw it all—the best I have to bring—into the fire

as the fragrance of my sacrifice ascends unto you.

Pause in his presence

All you lovers of God who want to please him,

come and listen, and I’ll tell you what he did for me.

I cried aloud to him with all my heart, and he answered me!

Now my mouth overflows with the highest praise.

Yet if I had closed my eyes to my sin,

the Lord God would have closed his ears to my prayer.

But praises rise to God,

for he paid attention to my prayer and answered my cry to him!

I will forever praise this God who didn’t close his heart when I prayed

and never said no when I asked him for help.

He never once refused to show me his tender love.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 66 (The Passion Translation)

0 notes