#only to be met with mostly art of the character i am method acting

[7wolfmoon]

never thought i would see a belos flubber. then again i had no idea the worm house was a thing before lark was already knee deep in squirmle obession

[wearetakingthehobbitstogallifrey]

Kdrama recs Part 1

Hullo and welcome to the kdrama life @camsthisky​! The following list is not in any particular order, other than the fact that I start with a more rom/com vibe and head toward more romantic/action or action. All the following kdramas are set in the modern day, and part 2 of my recs for you will be either darker kdramas set in present day or historical dramas.

Let the list begin!

1. Strong Woman Do Bong Soon: 

Do Bong Soon is a v smol woman who has super strength and who wants 1. To create her own video game 2. Get her police officer crush to return her affections. Which like, police officer is kinda cute but he ain’t that special. Bong Soon winds up becoming a bodyguard to Ahn Min Hyuk, the extremely rich, kinda spoiled, ridiculously extra CEO of a gaming company who does not like the police for secret reasons, and sadly does not have a good relationship with his family. (He a lonely boy underneath everything.) Min Hyuk finds out about Bong Soon’s powers, is in TOTAL awe of her, offers to train her in fighting, and literally falls head over heels for her.

The caveat with this show is there is a subplot or two that annoy me, BUT I just use the 10 second skip button and it is totally worth it because the romance is super cute—SUPER CUTE (also I have a list of favorite actors and Park Hyung Sik is def on it—one minute he is an adorkable, blushing bby the next he can be intense and sad)

He cute

2. Her Private Life: 

Hello fake-dating!! Ryan Gold (an adoptee who didn’t live in Korea for a while) is a former artist who stopped painting because he couldn’t deal with his Stendhol (?) syndrome (among other traumas). Deok Mi is the classy art curator of a famous museum who definitely does not have any secrets she wants to keep from the world—well, other than the fact that she is the number one fangirl of kpop idol, Cha Shi-an (who also appreciates art) and has a major crush on him. Ryan becomes director of the art museum and there is a whole thing with getting Shi-an involved in an art show.

Following this and a series of unfortunate events a false rumor starts that Deok Mi and and Shi-an ARE dating. It’s a little complicated to summarize, but basically what you need to know is that Ryan and Deok Mi become a fake couple so there won’t be a scandal for Shi-an or violence done to Deok Mi by rabid fangirls. I enjoy the fake-dating trope a lot, and how it becomes real for both of them! The leads are played by Kim Jae Wook and Park Min Young, who both have incredible range. Lots of soft moments in this one! Good kisses, a scene where the faves bake together, and also Ryan wears a lot of deep v-neck shirts and jackets which is an attack on me personally.

The show also contains a bit of angst, which I LOVE. Hand-holding becomes an important theme 😊

RYAN NO

3. Crash Landing on You: Rich South Korean heiress/fashion designer Se-ri accidentally winds up in a North Korean village, and really REALLY wants to go home. Mostly because there are no scented candles or spa-like bathtubs in the vicinity, but also because she could easily disappear into a NK jail and never return. A North Korean captain named Ri Jeong Hyeok finds her and decides not to turn her because, one, he’s a good guy who doesn’t want to turn an innocent person over to what might be her death, and two, turning her over might get his four underlings in trouble for reasons. Said underlings are his family, basically, and they are a deLIGHT. One is an argumentative proud sort who likes to drink and to feel important and who tries to provoke (and gets provoked by) Se-ri at every opportunity, one is a lover of banned South Korean dramas, one is a 17 year old bby who misses his mom, and one is the silent but most loyal follower of the captain. 

Besides all these people, there are two other characters (including a surprisingly wise conman) who become faves and major players in the plot.

There is a great mix of humor, romance, found family, and angst, and I love it very much. A few things don’t go the way I want them to near the end, but a bit of imagination and fanfic can fix anything 

ALSO I FORGOT THE CAPTAIN GETS SUPER SULKY FROM TIME TO TIME AND IT IS HILARIOUS

Show of hands, who thinks they will meet again

4. Are You Human Too: A FAVORITE SHOW OF ALL! TIME!

What do you do when your husband dies and your evil mega-rich father-in-law takes your son away from you and keeps you from seeing him ever? Well, if you are scientist with more genius than positive coping methods, you build yourself a robot son who looks exactly like your real son. Great solution, am I right?

Nam Shin III is the name of my favorite robot son, played by the inestimable Seo Kang Joon. He is the purest bby you will ever meet, being designed so that he never lies and so that he will immediately go to hug anyone who cries. He seems quite a contrast to the bitter human Nam Shin, who hates his gilded prison life, hates his Grandpa, and tries to sneak away from his right hand man, Secretary Ji Young Hoon, his only friend in the world. The girl in the show is Kang So Bong, an ex-UFC fighter who was so badly injured she had to quit. She is at first a bit jaded and mercenary because of her past, but she has a golden heart that just needs to be reminded of its existence.

Not going into details to avoid spoilers, but everything upends when the robot Nam Shin has to take the place of the human Nam Shin. The show is a soft, funny, angsty exploration of what it means to be human, with some good found family throughout. The character development is phenomenal, and the connection between So Bong and Nam Shin III is *chef’s kiss*. I just want to give a shout out to Seo Kang Joon who plays a duel role like you wouldn’t believe, to SKJ’s smile, to the soundtrack, and to the character of Young Hoon, a loyal, steady, and self-sacrificing secretary that we do not deserve  (gosh tho he looks good in blue!)

Look at my robot son getting a long-looked for affirmation! (his lil smile!!!

5. W: Two Worlds: 

This show unique because it  meta as HELL! Oh Yeon Joo is a junior doctor and the daughter of a webtoon artist whose big hit, W, is coming to a close. Much to her surprise, she gets pulled into the world of the comic where she encounters and saves the main character, Kang Chul, a former Olympic shooting champion who was blamed for the murder of his entire family, and whose sole desire is to find the real killer. It’s a good romance between them, and I also love Kang Chul’s relationship with his hyung, which, tho it is not always a main focus, is present and wonderful. Kang Chul himself is both intelligent and adorably bratty, charismatic and angsty, soft and fierce, and he is one of my favorite kdrama characters for sure.

As for the meta, the show does a fantastic job exploring the rules of the comic world, of how one can enter and leave, the importance and power of main characters and supporting characters, and the purpose of an author. There is always another twist coming, and it is just so much fun!

UM SIR PLS POINT THAT ELSEWHERE

6. Healer: 

I watched half this show and never realized that the female lead is played by Park Min Young, same actress as in Her Private Life. Someone had to tell me lol! She’s just so good at playing different people. In this show, she is Chae Young Shin, a reporter for a celebrity tabloid who has big dreams of becoming a famous reporter who investigates stories that actually mean something. She is a bit quirky, very cute, very brave, and probably one of my favorite female leads. She lives with her dad above his coffee/teashop bakery and is friends with all the ex-cons he has defended while doing his other job of lawyering.

Anyway this show is more of a romantic/action drama. To get an idea of the titular Healer, picture what you would get if you took some of Batman and Nightwing’s aesthetics (wearing black, hanging out on rooftops, punching people, flipping around, etc) and put them into a night courier who likes to watch National Geographic and dream about one day going off to an island where he can live all by himself for the rest of his days because oh yeah he is a loner whose only friend is an older woman who sets up his jobs and whom he has never actually met.

There is also an older reporter that Young Shin looks up to, the fun tabloid office where she works, a heck lot of mystery surrounding some tragedy involving a group of reporter best friends/found family back in the 80’s/90’s, and of course both members of the OTP have childhood trauma that has made them who they are today. One of my favorite things that happens in the show is that Healer has to go undercover for a while, Clark Kenting it up in Young Shin’s tabloid office, which overnight becomes a real news agency for reasons.

The action is LOTS of fun, and the romance is really soft and cute, and better still, when there is a misunderstanding or something that gets in their way, they almost immediately talk about it and resolve issues. They TRUST each other and give the benefit of the doubt where many tv couples would break up or get in big fights. I find it (plus the character development) very refreshing.

I couldn’t find a gif of my favorite fight sadly. This will have to do

7. Lawless Lawyer: This has Lee Joon Gi. Watch it.

Just kidding, there are many other reasons to watch the show, but it is true that Lee Joon Gi is one of my favorite actors. The man has phoenix eyes, a jawline that could cut silk, diamonds, you name it, and such a deep well of emotional acting that it literally kills me when his characters rage/weep/love/etc.

Anyway, in this legal thriller/romance/action drama, LJG’s character Bong Sang Pil is a beautiful, very extra ex-gangster/now lawyer who opens his own office, ready to fight villainy and avenge his mom with the law or with his fists, whichever is more useful at the time. He has a right hand man named Manager Tae and recruits a bunch of thugs as his minions, and they all become a weird sort of family as the show goes on.

Ha Jae Yi is a quiet badass lawyer who has no time for sexist idiots and gets her license suspended for smacking one of said fools. She gets recruited to assist Sang Pil, and they find their goals align as both their mothers were destroyed by the villains.

Speaking of the villains? EXCELLENT acting by them all, like they need to go down obviously, but you can’t help but be in awe of a few of them or even get attached to one or two in a weird way. Props to the show for having one of the best female villains I have ever seen

What an icon

Here you get two gifs of him

Sorry I needed to make it a magical three lol

~~

Tune in next time for historical dramas and modern dramas that are a bit darker!

[alchemist-shizun]

To tend thee is my care

ACT I

ACT II - Read on Ao3!

See the awesome fanart!

Word count: 13,679 

Taglist: @lesbianturtle @len-art-trash @i-need-you-buddy @jeevashun @quietlypondering  @creativity-killed-thekitten @bookwyrminspiration @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing  @softanxiouspatton @be-more-chaotic @pheonix-inside-reblogs @www-dot-ohshit-dot-com @datfearlessfangirl @alltimevirgilant @royalnerd829 @just-fic-me-up @theblankest123 @theotherella​ @thesleepyraziel @gaylotusthatexists @sendingcookiesfromhell @mijako98 @logicalberry @maybe-i-like-the-misery @orderly-opaline @purpledemond

(Please tell me if you want to be added too for Act II!)

Characters: Virgil, Nonbinary!Roman

Summary: You’ve heard of enemies to lovers now get ready for acquaintances to friends to now we’re fighting because I’m scared of your rejection so I’m pretending it’s your fault when it clearly is mine to friends again, even though you’re an idiot, but I still love you to lovers. 

Roman and Virgil are both part of the theater group of their school, Roman is one of the actors, while Virgil is the head of the stage design group. Despite being in the same year and having lessons in the same building, they hadn’t really ever talked to each other, but everything was about to change when the teachers, heads of the whole theater group, announced that they were going to challenge themselves by presenting one of Euipides’ last plays: The Bacchantes. Follow our two main characters helping each other out as one is forced to learn how to act in a matter of months and the other goes through a journey of self-discovery as he studies his role.

Pairing(s): Prinxiety (I’m unpredictable)

Warning(s): Mild swearing, Death mention (mostly when talking about the tragedy), Blood mention (once), Negative thinking, Implied toxic parenting (once), [Me projecting heavily onto Virgil (also Ro at some point)]

A/n: I’ve been writing this for months and I can’t explain how proud I am to show you guys this! Before you start reading, I want to inform you that the school system I write about here is not the American one since I know little to nothing about it. Instead I’ll be using the one of my country for reasons of simplicity. (All names I use here are invented, so you can place the events wherever you’d like.) I thought about doing a long for this plot but I chose to write a one shot instead, since it’s pretty long I decided to divide it into two acts, the second one is coming very soon. I studied and read the whole play translated in my original language, that’s where the inspiration for my au came from. All the English translations I used for the play are from here, here and here. The song mentioned is So Contagious by Acceptance. That being said, hope you enjoy!

✾✾✾✾

What now?

It was during an October’s Tuesday that Virgil had started panicking due to school stress.

It wasn’t like his teachers hadn’t been pressuring his class ever since they entered their first fifth year lesson: partly because of the final exams, the rest of the time they asked about their university choices.

This year’s archaeological excavation, an experience reserved only to the students of his course, was also placed exactly in those three weeks of October were the theater group had started.

Tuesday in October for Virgil meant lessons until half past midday, research for the upcoming excavation exhibition until two p.m., theater club for an hour, then back to doing research with one of his teachers and half of his classmates until 17:00.

In all honesty, he wouldn’t have minded being buried alive when they’d have to cover back up the site.

Virgil had tried convincing himself that it wasn’t really that hard, besides the club had just started and the first few days were mostly focused on helping the first years settle, be comfortable with the teachers and also test out their abilities. And this one was only the second meeting.

But, of course, his day had to get worse. Life was trying him, and boy, did he hate sudden drastic changes.

It was when he noticed all the odd attention he was getting by the teachers that he realized something was definitely going to go wrong.

Everyone took a seat on the wooden bleachers of the old gym, they were basically attached to the pavement and the obnoxious yellow-painted walls of the large room. A quick glance around and you had the feeling that everything was going to collapse at any moment.

Virgil saw some familiar faces, some new ones, but he definitely couldn’t forget about the regulars: his beloved stage deseign group, which were a bunch of students that the teacher trusted him enough to take care of and teach them what they had to do during shows and how to prepare the stage. And next to them some actors from the last three years, Dave, Bonnie, Lukas and Roman.

He and Roman were the only ones brave enough to stick around even during the toughest year of that hellhole, so everyone silently respected them. And just as much as Virgil helped the newcomers in his group, Roman was happy to lend a hand in acting along side the most talented fourth and third years above mentioned.

« Well hello and welcome back here, guys! » Mrs. Michaelis had started, clasping her hands together, she was an English grammar and literature teacher.

After making sure everybody had arrived, they explained that since the week after they were going to see the first years’ “auditions” as they liked to call them, but they were really simply methods to check how promising someone could be at acting.

« I know this may sound shocking, we still can’t believe it- »

« Mostly because normally it takes us a couple of months before choosing a script. » Mrs. Eagan, an ancient Greek and Latin teacher, had interrupted, causing multiple chuckles from the students.

« … As I was saying, yes. We already know the play that we’ll be covering this year, we also have scripts ready for almost everybody. But there’s some news! »

« This year we decided to sign up our group and participate to some kind of challenge! » murmurs began to fill the room, as uneasiness set in Virgil’s stomach. Why make things harder for everybody? Wasn’t it just as good doing a simple show one night and one morning?

« Some, let’s say, “judges” are going to attend our play and afterwards, if they’re satisfied enough, they will let us take our production to the biggest local theater! »

The murmurs transformed into gasps, that theater was placed in the city of their province, getting an invitation was a huge challenge.

« And our play is going to be … » Mrs. Eagan’s eyes met Virgil’s and fixated on them. That’s when he began overthinking. Why was she looking directly at him? That never meant good news. « … Euripides’ tragedy, The Bacchantes. »

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Only his eyes widened among the confused looks of most of the students. He had studied that play, along side many other ones, in his fourth year. He did truly love them, but damn him if they weren’t already a challenge to portray.

« That’s right Virgil, you know it. » why was also the English teacher giving him his attention? What were they planning, did he have to explain the play to everybody?

All the students turned to face him, some quietly asking what was the plot, some fourth years of his same course demanded to know if it was a difficult topic.

« Easy now, everybody, he’s already been tested last year by Mr. Richardson. » one of the teachers interrupted, walking closer to the spot where Virgil sat, for some reason he had found himself next to the “talented actors group”.

They explained the plot for everybody after that.

« We know it might be real tough, so this year we already agreed on the roles beforehand. Don’t worry, if you didn’t get your time to shine this year, in the next ones you totally will. »

Wait, he wasn’t part of the actors group, why did this have anything to do with him? Why were they still staring at him?

To his relief, the teachers addressed the newcomers first. « We were thinking about giving the role of the chorus to the first and second years, they have long bits, but we can split them instead of making you all recite them, so that you don’t feel too burdened and the role becomes easy for all of you. »

« The roles of the messengers will be given to our third years, messengers are used to explain everything that happens that does not happen on scene. One of the rules for tragedies was that the scene had to take place in the same time and place. Also, they didn’t show blood and/or murders/suicides on scene. They were all narrated. »

« As for our three fourth years. » they looked over Virgil’s shoulder to Dave, Lukas and Bonnie. « Your roles will be Cadmus, Tiresias and Agave. They play a very important part in the whole story, we trust you’ll do a great job. »

« As for our main characters, Pentheus and Dionysus … » they set their eyes on Roman, who looked more expectant than ever.

But then they also shifted their glances to Virgil.

« We were thinking our only fifth years could have their roles as a good way of saying goodbye to them, since this will be their last play. » everybody else was nodding in agreement, Roman was beaming but slightly confused. Wasn’t Virgil part of the stage design group?

In fact, our little emo kid could only look back in disbelief.

« Roman, Virgil, would you like to become a king and a god, respectively? »

What now?

As the beloved actor was about to answer, Virgil interrupted with a shy apology. « I’m sorry, but there must be a mistake, I’m not part of the actors group, I’ve never acted in the past four years, actually. »

« We know Virgil, but we really thought it might be such a nice way of thanking you guys for your contributions all these years. »

Oh yes, you’re right, putting me in a stress condition by making me do something I have no idea about for a big project that could take us to one of the largest theaters of the country is definitely the best choice you could have made.

All he was able to say was a stuttering noise, as they continued with their little speech. « And Roman is such a good actor, he’s going to help you for sure, aren’t you? »

The mentioned boy nodded vigorously, then proceeded to show one of his brightest smiles. « I always come to the rescue of my fellow actors in need. »

Yeah. Amazing. He was stuck with their decision.

« Besides you already probably know each other pretty well by now, so it won’t be a problem! »

The two students looked at each other. The recognizable expressions of two teens that, despite being in the same year and club, had never said a single word to each other apart from when needed during rehearsals.

« … Right. »

« But what about my group then? » Virgil questioned, he was definitely not going to leave them behind just like that.

« You don’t have to worry about them. This year your History of Art teacher will be lending a hand with the stage and volunteered to be the head of the group. »

Right. Mr. Williams, one of the only teachers that were pretty tolerable in his class.

« And look at them. » he did so, and he was met with happy smiles and encouraging faces. « I’m sure they’ll do a good job after four years with you by their side. Right, Anastasia? »

Anastasia was one of the oldest of the bunch, if not one of the wisest and most skilled, sometimes they wondered if she could just do anything that crossed her mind. « You got it! » she leaned in as if to get closer to the older boy. « We’ll be cheering for you Virge! » she concluded, followed by a couple of “Yeah!“s.

Everybody was so joyful and expectant that he couldn’t help but comply, so he decided to simply sigh and reply with nothing.

As the teachers continued with their topics for the meeting, Virgil couldn’t help but have a single thought in his mind.

This is going to be the most awkward thing I’ve ever done in my entire life.

✾✾✾✾

As soon as the meeting came to an end, Virgil was fast to get up and rush towards the dungeon’s stairs that would lead again to the surface. Basically there were two buildings, the school and the gym, linked by a little dungeon were there were all the labs and computer rooms.

He had to get back to the library as soon as he could, or god knows what “you’re late” speech his teacher would have given him. He was always literally on the verge of marking his students as absent if they didn’t show up to the lesson in the exact minute before the bell rang.

Virgil decided to panic about the dumpster fire that had come his way during the meeting after that. One issue at a time. First of all, he had to reach the stairs’ gate and push-

« Hey! Wait for me. »

God, he didn’t have time for this. He kept walking, ignoring the voice behind him and hoping for it to give up and leave him to his well-deserved peace and quiet. At least for three minutes.

As he walked, he found none but Roman himself matching his pace and walking by his side with a curious look. Who could blame him for wanting to be nice?

« You forgot your stuff in your classroom too? » he tried, not a brilliant starter for a conversation, but he had to get something out of the boy.

« No. » cut and dry, that was the only thing that Virgil dared to let escape his mouth.

« Where to, then? »

« The library. »

« Oh, are you waiting for a bus? Maybe I could keep you company. »

« Listen. » they made to a stop as they reached the last floor, not that far off from Virgil’s destination. « Today’s already been as stressful as it is, could you just … go straight to the point? I don’t have much time here. »

It was not like he had meant to sound rude, it wasn’t like it was his purpose either to brush off someone just like that or to see the other boy’s hurt expression. But he had reached a limit in which he didn’t really care-

« Oh, my apologies, then. »

And there was the guilt.

« I was just wondering if we could exchange numbers, if it isn’t uncomfortable for you. I guess we’ll need to hang out in the future. » he tried to sound as confident as he could, but it was as if “awkward” was scribbled all over his face.

« Sure, are you asking me on a date next? » with all the sarcasm injected in his words, he sure as hell wasn’t expecting Roman’s remark.

« Well, if you wouldn’t mind. » a sly smile made its way through the actor’s face, but was soon replaced by a troubled expression when he saw Virgil’s eye roll and sigh.

« Was I … was I too straightforward? I didn’t- »

« You’re fine, calm down. » Virgil quickly took out his phone and unlocked it before passing it to the other student. As he quietly typed after a murmured “alright”, Virgil couldn’t help but wonder if he had ever upset anyone with his bold statements. It wasn’t like this town was open minded, while he seemed … particularly flamboyant.

Before he could finish his thoughts, he had his phone back in his hands and the not-so-much-stranger-anymore was already heading towards his classroom to get his backpack.

« I sent myself a message. » he warned, then he disappeared and reappeared in a matter of seconds, marched down the hall and flashed him a toothy smile while waving his hand.

« Don’t be a stranger, I’ll see you tomorrow! »

Virgil only nodded and found it impossible to take his eyes off of him until the last lock of hair had vanished down the stairs, wondering what had just happened. Maybe that was the magic that worked on his public every year.

He gave a rapid look at the screen of his phone, noticing that the boy had saved himself as “Princey” with a star emoji right next to it.

This time, he entered the library with an amused expression.

✾✾✾✾

Roman kept repeating in his mind that it wasn’t his fault.

Yes, it was Firday. Yes, he had gone the rest of the days without a single word to Virgil, not even when he noticed him in the halls during break or when they either entered or left school. Some days he didn’t even see him.

Yes, he could have texted him. But it felt too weird, yet, they didn’t know each other at all! Plus they didn’t even have the script ready.

Yes, he felt like he had the weight of this play’s success completely on his shoulders and depending on him and still shied away from acknowledging it.

But Virgil kept avoiding him! He couldn’t do much without him.

If he saw him during the ten minutes break, Virgil would walk past him without a second thought as if he didn’t think he needed to talk to him.

Some other times he pretended he didn’t even see him. It was getting tough to even have his attention anymore, as if he had to be added to the mean girls table. He needed a miracle.

And maybe the deities were in his favor that day.

As Roman walked down the path that was made next to the plaza, he noticed a familiar little figure sitting on a bench with a backpack next to him and earbuds in his ears. He was watching in front of him as life flew by and didn’t notice Roman approaching at all.

« Virgil? »

The boy in front of him jerked his head up and took out both of his earbuds; his clothes looked much more worn and randomly put together, as if he had dressed himself in the dark. What got Roman the most was the quantity of dirt that was on them and … was that blood under some of his nails?

Roman dropped his bag on the bench, worry expanding in his chest. « Oh my goodness are you okay? » he made to reach for his hand, only to stop himself just in time to remind him of personal space.

Virgil gave him a confused look and brought his fingers to his eyes, close enough to examine them. « Not again. » he groaned, a huff coming out of his lips.

« Wait, I should have something. »

« You don’t have to, it’s noth- »

« Here! » Roman grabbed a box from his bag triumphantly, he took a couple of plasters and waved them in front of the other.

« Why do you even have so many? »

« What can I say, I’m a clumsy person. »

« Mh. Charming. »

« At least I rescued you! Now, show me your hands. » he ordered, but as soon as he saw Virgil’s mouth open to argue, he was ready to remark « I don’t care if you can do this by yourself, you have literally injured fingers, let me help. »

Seeing that there was no other way out of it, he complied.

As soon as he placed his hands over his fingers, Roman couldn’t help but notice how different their skin tones really were compared to one another, sure the difference was obvious at first glance, but seeing it this close was completely something else. He gently dabbed the fresh blood away with a tissue he had taken out with the box a few instants earlier.

Three plasters and a thank you later, the concerned face came back again and Virgil wanted nothing more than the sweet liberation of death. What was his deal, did he never dig on dirt as a child?

« How did you get hurt? »

Virgil simply pointed behind his shoulders, where Roman could only see a huge pile of dirt resting against a tree. He tilted his head to the side like a confused puppy, a sight the other would have found endearing if only he wasn’t so exasperated and tired.

« I’ve been working all day, Princey. »

Roman smiled at the familiar nickname, but still found confusion in his thoughts. « Aren’t you supposed to be at school? »

« It’s linked to school. Haven’t you heard of the excavations that our school is doing? »

Now that he mentioned that, he had heard a bunch of things, but never really paid attention since it was something that wasn’t related to his course.

Roman attended the Languages course, in which he could learn Spanish and French, other than his mother language, with literature comprehended, and all the experiences linked to it were the cultural exchanges during the third and fourth years.

Virgil, otherwise, was part of the Classical course, meaning that he had signed his death certificate by committing to five years of learning ancient Greek and Latin plus the respective literature as main subjects. But other than that and the famous one week school trip to Greece every three years, Roman had no clue what they did other than study until they couldn’t remember their own names, just like any other student.

Yeah, they couldn’t say their school system was perfect.

« I don’t exactly know every detail. Are you guys doing this? »

« Kind of. What we’re doing is carry on with the work we did the past two years, where we had opened other excavations. Let’s say we’re looking for clues. We’re supervised by an actual archaeologist though. »

« That’s so cool! Did you find any gold? » Virgil wasn’t really expecting such excitement coming from Roman. Apart from the all too familiar question, he often found his interlocutors to be pretty uninterested by the topic.

« No gold, but … remember last Tuesday? » Roman nodded attentively.

« On that morning, during one of Mr. Richardson’s lessons, one of our classmates video-called us saying there was an urgent matter to show us. They had found possibly a Roman coin. » he tried to bite back the smile that threatened to form on his lips at the joyful memory, but nothing could take away that particular twinkle in his eyes.

« Are you serious?! That’s wonderful, what if you find a hidden treasure? »

« Unlikely, but it would be nice. »

« Wow. » Roman breathed out, staring at the scene beside his … new acquaintance? « How did you hurt yourself, anyway? »

« See that pile of dirt? I’ve been scanning every bucket full of soil that was thrown in there. My job was searching in the dirt for possible relics that were missed out while others did the digging. We installed a little assembly line. And running your fingers through that for hours makes you sore I guess. »

« That doesn’t seem very fun, though. »

Virgil shrugged. « I didn’t mind. I like working by myself, especially when the job is as simple as it is important. » And it was true, it wasn’t like the archaeologist put him there because he was just hopeless with the other instruments, every little clue was important and looking for them was a crucial point that can be easily taken care of if you’re a perfectionist.

Plus, the archaeologist seemed to have taken a liking into Virgil, so that didn’t make him feel left out at all.

« Even though, today one of my classmates came to help me. » the boy turned to see that Roman was still listening to him, with no intention of changing the subject. That was new, too.

« You know those terribly annoying ones? He slowed down our chain to the point that he had to argue with this girl that was in dire need of empty buckets while we still had all of them full because he wanted to look through every inch of dirt before handing it out. » he let out a deep sigh, as if he had just been venting for hours.

« That was pretty idiotic, what happened then? »

« Uh, well, we went back to working, just as I was doing before he came to help. »

Roman snorted, imagining the scene in front of his eyes. « So he made a fuss only for it to go back as before and prove him wrong. I’d say he’s pretty amazing. »

« Yeah. » Virgil agreed, « Anyway, sorry for rambling. » he added in a lower tone, while checking his phone for notification, before putting it away quickly.

Roman arched his eyebrow at his words. « As someone who whines constantly, I don’t really think you should worry. »

At least, that succeeded to steal a chuckle from the tired one.

« Did you find anything? » Virgil was really starting to believe this guy couldn’t have a minute of pure silence.

« Well, there’s always a couple of bones, some weird ferric objects, teeth and … » he stopped, remembering the event of the week before.

This time, a wide smile appeared before he could stop it as he searched through his phone’s camera gallery; it was the one thing he was real proud of, possibly the prettiest of his findings.

He handed the phone over to Roman, whose eyes widened at the sight, in front of him he could see a pic of a piece of ceramic with white, brown, yellow and blue decorations, dirt was still covering it, but you could already make out how beautiful it was.

« You found this in here? »

« Yes, it was amazing. I was standing there, » he pointed to a vague direction in front of the dirt pile, excitement rising in his chest as he remembered. « and someone was throwing the dirt on the pile and I recognized the bottom of the piece. We had already found other ceramics and I was hoping it was one too. So I picked it up as soon as I spotted it and there were at least three inches of dirt on top. I moved it away with my thumb and I was met with that decoration. I think I might have yelled. » he leaned in to take another look at the pic, as if never satisfied with it.

Roman certainly didn’t miss how bright he appeared when he was talking about the excavation, all the tiredness was gone and the pain in his whole body caused by eight hours of work was long forgotten. He looked genuinely happy, a contrast to his unusual dark and broody persona.

« Did you choose you university yet? » he had a thought, while handing the phone back, which could have maybe helped the injured boy.

« Jumping a bit? Uh, no, honestly I have no idea. »

« Ever thought of doing something with archaeology? »

« Uhm … » Virgil tapped his fingers on his palm. It wasn’t like he hadn’t considered the possibility in the past, but he had been told that it was probably too hard and maybe too boring from his point of view. On the other hand he truly enjoyed working in the site …

« You still with me, buddy? You don’t have to choose in the next five minutes. »

« Shut up, I was thinking. »

« Your thinking is too loud. »

« And here I was considering you as actually not that bad. »

« I know you secretly admire me. »

« The important thing is you believe that. »

Their wise and profound conversation was interrupted by Virgil’s ringtone going off, he picked up, had a brief talk and tucked the phone away in his pocket.

« My mother’s arrived to pick me up. » he informed, pointing at a car parked a few feet away from them.

They both stood up, but none of them made to move at all.

« Uh, I was thinking … » Roman struggled to find the right words, as if anything he said might offend Virgil at any given moment. « I don’t want to pressure you or anything, but maybe we could meet up sometimes to talk about the play? Or I could start helping you as soon as we get the scripts. »

Virgil made a face, as if he had been trying to forget a bad nightmare and had just been reminded of it. Still, he had no right to escape that any further, and he was already anxious about not being able to make it in time, even before he could start learning his lines. So maybe starting to work on it sooner wasn’t that bad of an idea.

« Sounds good. » he hesitated, not sure how to continue, when an idea sparked in his mind. « Maybe I could give you some insight on the tragedy. »

« That’d be awesome! When are you free? »

Hah. « During week-days I’m busy until five p.m. everyday. At least for another week, when this project will be over. »

That explained why he was still in town at almost six p.m.

« You guys dig everyday? »

« Something like that. We’re divided into two groups and we dig every other day. When we don’t we still have to stay at school and do researches for the final exhibition. »

Roman’s eyes lit up at the last words, he was going to ask him about it the next time the occasion presented itself.

« That sucks. Okay, look, I don’t wanna steal anymore time from your beloved mother, so I’ll text about it to you later, okay? »

« Cool. » Virgil raised his hand and waved it ever so slightly.

Roman returned the good-bye and got back to his task, marching down the sidewalk, but as Virgil had just opened the door of his mother’s car, he remembered to yell “And don’t forget to get some rest, I’m starting to confuse your makeup with your dark circles!”.

Virgil got into the car with an exasperated sigh and found his mother giggling to herself while she looked at him.

« Was that a friend? »

« God I hope not. »

✾✾✾✾

Tuesday came back in a hurry, along with the theater club, some worried and some bored students. Virgil stood in the middle of “time to panic and/or cry” and “if I don’t fall into eternal slumber right now I will burn this building to the ground”.

If he could name some of the most atrocious backstabbers he had ever met, he’d instantly name his teachers: at first they told his class they’d make it easy for them since they were so busy with the project, now they pretended the students had to be more organized with their studying and homework. Tests and interrogations had been made despite them being at least nine hours at school instead of five, some even coming home later than that.

In a word, they didn’t care, it was the students’ fault.

Virgil had his back against the wall, sitting on the top step of the bleacher with his legs close to his chest, the meeting had been starting for a couple of minutes and, of course, he didn’t have anything to do except hating himself and wait for another uneventful hour to pass.

« Hey Gerard Way Too Dark, look what they gave me. »

Or maybe not.

Virgil looked up to be met with Roman standing in front of him with two binders in his hand: the two of them had agreed on meeting up only when school would let them breathe enough to find a single day where they were both free from studying. Which was yet to be a thing.

The beloved actor handed him one of the binders, it read the title of the play, the author and the characters. He didn’t like how his role was the very first one on the list.

« At last. » he dryly commented, flipping the pages quick enough to not read a single actual word out of it.

Roman sat down next to him and examined the first page, as if looking for some kind of unspoken treasure, then he turned to take out a stash of highlighters Virgil had no clue where he kept. He showed them to him, waiting for him to pick a color.

By the looks of them, they seemed brand new and neatly arranged in the colors of the rainbow. Virgil picked out the lilac one, he had always preferred the gentler colors, it made it easier to study with the lights on.

His colleague chose the red one and began going through the pages and highlighting all the lines he had to learn as Pentheus.

Silently, Virgil did the same with the lines Dionysus said, recalling the scenes as he went through them. Though … he noticed there were far too many. He never realized how impossible it looked in his eyes until he had it plainly laid out in front of him.

Great, you’re going to mess this up, you won’t ever be able to do this in time. Plus you’re probably going to forget everything the moment right before going on stage. Who thought this was going to be a good id-

« Are you okay down there? »

He didn’t realize he was rubbing at his face with his hands, while trying to shake off the storm forming in his mind. In doing so, he had also let the marker fall to the wooden step with a clatter, which caught the other’s attention.

« Yeah, ’m just tired. » he managed to let out through his fingers in a muffled sound.

Roman made a humming noise, then proceeded to cast aside all his stuff and let himself relax against the wall. « Then I’d say we call it a day and sleep until it’s time to part ways. »

Virgil looked at him, surprise written all over his face, wasn’t he supposed to work even harder than normal because of the occasion? Either way, he mirrored the boy, pulling up his hood so that he could find some comfort.

« I think I’m too worried about all this mess, » he retorted, gesturing at his script. « to be able to even close my eyes. »

« Then tell me about it. »

He considered the option, he did actually promise him he’d do it before, besides he’d be distracting himself from the impending doom, be actually productive and explaining the tragedy to the actor. A double win for both parties.

« The story is centered around this group of Bacchantes that came from Asia and want to enter Thebes and spread their cult, they’re also guided by a lone nomad that none knows is actually Dionysus, the founder of the cult itself. » he turned to face Roman, in a silent “tell me where I lose you” manner.

« They are stopped by Pentheus, now king of the city, son of Agave and nephew of Cadmus, the founder of Thebes. Tiresias is a famous seer that understands the potential of the cult and invites Cadmus to preach the god with him. They try to reason with Pentheus, but it’s all in vain. In the meantime, while this king is busy insulting the cult, Dionysus makes all the women of the city go mad and follow the Maenads. »

« Payback? »

« More like first warning. » Virgil counted to one on his right hand for emphasis. « After that, Pentheus sent his soldiers to capture him. And they succeeded, he didn’t resist and kept up his act, only to free himself of the chains thanks to his magic. When Pentheus found him, Dionysus pretended he was helped by the god and began charming him until the king gave in. »

« You mean, how he made him dress up as a Maenad? »

« Yes, but not only he did that, he drove him crazy, too. » did anyone else ever notice the slight green spots in Roman’s brown eyes or was it just the trick of the light? Virgil couldn’t tell, so he decided to explain further. « Pentheus claimed to be seeing double and having hallucinations. He was also very careful of his clothes, hair and posture, he wanted to be the perfect Maenad. He tried to convince himself it was for disguise purposes, but in my opinion he was rather enjoying that dress-up. »

« Really? » Roman questioned, he still had to look into his character, the more he knew about him, the better he could portray him. He always took every bit of information he could find, to the point in which he could somehow relate to them or at least be able to link him and the role. That way, he was able to love acting as every single one of them.

« You need to read their last conversation. Even you would say that at first glance. Anyway, the play ends with the Bacchantes shredding to pieces the body of Pentheus. The practice is called “sparagmòs”. After that Agave and Cadmus have a touching scene and it ends there. A bit shocking for her since she just killed her son, but the god made sure the women all saw a beast instead. »

« That’s cruel, though. »

« Princey, he disrespected a fucking god, dying is the least that could happen to him. »

There was the nickname again. And, as if on cue, Roman’s lips twitched into a small smile that disappeared right after. He wasn’t aware of the reason why he didn’t want to get caught, but … did Virgil really not remember?

« He didn’t give him a chance to apologize! »

« Then again, the cult of the Bacchantes includes a ritual where a human needs to be sacrificed. If he had ever been sorry, Dionysus would have probably ordered him to sacrifice himself so that he could be satisfied and purified by his action. »

« Okay, okay. » Roman put his hands up in surrender. « I recognize I’m talking to a smart one over here, I give up. » he pretended he was waving a white flag to his side.

Virgil chuckled at his words. « I’m actually just average, but I can be passionate about some things, too. »

« Just average? I doubt all of your classmates still remember the entire plot of a tragedy and also can provide conspiracy theories. »

« Conspiracy- what are you talking about? »

« You know I’m right, you were totally on the verge of geeking out about this one. C'mon who’s your favorite character? » the actor mocked resting his face on his palms while a sly expression surrounded him.

« I will throw you off the stairs the next chance I have. »

« Good luck with that since you can’t even reach. »

Oh that was the last fucking straw.

Virgil turned his head to look at him in the eyes so rapidly that Roman feared his neck would give in and break right then and there. But the most disturbing image was the rage that was forming around the boy’s aura.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t the wisest thing to-

Virgil surged forward in a sudden movement and the actor jumped away pleading for salvation, it was only when he heard a foreign laugh that he turned around only to be met with the same dark and stormy guy, doubled over himself with laughter, teasing Roman.

« Did you seriously think I was going to attack you? »

« You can be scary sometimes, shut up! » heat began running in Roman’s cheeks out of embarrassment and he pretended nothing happened while Virgil quieted down next to him.

It was exactly in that moment that the meeting was called off.

As Roman followed him to the library, he wondered if that was going to be a regular thing after-

You idiot, this is the last week of your project.

« Oh, by the way. » Virgil stopped at the top of the stairs. « Don’t take it personally if I brush you off or disappear for the next few days, but the exhibition’s coming and I still have no idea what to say. »

« Talking about efficiency. » the actor rolled his eyes, recalling a few other examples he could give on the marvelous organization of teachers.

« Yeah, our teacher gave us tons of useful information. » he dead-panned, approaching the library’s doors.

« I will forever respect you for putting up with Mr. Richardson. »

That was able to get a chuckle out of Virgil.

« See you around, Pentheus. »

And with that, Roman was left walking home by himself with the warm feeling of having made a new possible friend spreading in his chest.

✾✾✾✾

It was Saturday morning when he noticed the fliers hanging around school. They showed a bunch of excavation pics and the subject of an archaeological exhibition centered around the school’s town. Roman took note of the date: it was exactly that same day!

So that was how he found himself during afternoon pacing around the plaza and stepping into an old tower, where a little crowd of at least fifteen people of all ages were standing and listening attentively to a student. There was only a little group of them, which he figured was because the exhibition took place multiple times during the week.

He just wondered if he had been lucky enough to find …

As he made his way through the front, so that he could see all the materials and boards exposed he heard the female voice say « Now I will turn it over to my classmate, Virgil! »

As soon as he heard his name, he followed her gaze and finally met an unusual sight: instead of the usual hoodie, he wore a black button up shirt and skinny dark blue jeans that might as well have been mistaken for the same other color. So he did know how to be fancy if he wanted.

Before he began explaining, he noticed Roman standing right next to their theater teachers and bit back a smile. He didn’t recall inviting him, actually he hadn’t wanted anyone he knew to witness him mess everything up as he was used to do. So what was he doing there?

Virgil welcomed everybody once again, then turned over to all the materials exposed.

And when he started talking, Roman was enthralled.

He didn’t know if it was the way the words rolled down his tongue, how he brushed the objects as if they were sacred treasures that would turn into dust at the slightest touch, or the sparkle in his eyes when he took in everybody’s attention and curiosity.

But there was a thing he did recognize: it was passion, that was definitely what he was radiating, the one emotion he knew all too well which helped him getting his public hanging at the edge of their seats.

And this time, he was the hooked one.

The two locked eyes multiple times, Virgil was surprised enough to find comfort in having someone to constantly smile at him, or in Mrs. Eagan’s nodding, in all those mouthed “you’re doing great”. He couldn’t stop going back at them everytime he looked up.

Before anyone knew it, his time was over and the group moved onto the last part of the exhibition, which was outside; the crowd followed the last student to the site that was still open and the remaining students in the room sighed with relief as Mr. Richardson followed them too for the final thanks.

Some minutes and a standing ovation later, Roman was already back into the small room as bright as ever, walking toward his favorite little archaeologist.

Virgil paced towards him at the same time, hissing a “what are you doing here?” while a small grin let itself spread on his face.

With no warning and an abrupt move, Roman’s arms had already wrapped themselves around the other boy’s upper chest, lifting him a little in the process.

Well, that was definitely new.

Not being used to such excitement, Virgil was only able to awkwardly return the hug after an initial moment of vacillation. Seeing his energy on stage was a thing, experiencing it like that was completely something else, but deep in his heart he knew it wasn’t a habit he wouldn’t have liked to adapt to.

Wait, what was that thought coming from? Why would he have to adapt to anything, he was just going to help him through acting and that was it.

Still, a new friend wasn’t a bad idea either …

« You did amazing! » was what Virgil heard after being released from the embrace, but not quite completely as Roman was still holding onto his arms.

He blinked a few times. « What are you talking about, I messed up and started stuttering at one point- »

« Oh shut up and let me compliment you, I didn’t even remember you did, king of modesty. »

« More like king of self-deprecation. »

« Can you stop for once in your life? »

Right in the short amount of time they weren’t talking, a single line caught their attention.

« Look at all this trash. »

What?

« Yeah, these are all so obviously fake. »

Thunderstorms.

Thunderstorms and lightning, howls of rage formed in Virgil’s chest, burning in a bonfire which heat traveled through his blood and reached his eyes only to darken them with fury.

His body stiffened, he wanted to scowl at them and tell them how wrong they were, just how dare them invalidate all the hard work of three weeks?

« Oh, Virgil! » Roman seemed to distract him, but he had a plan in mind as he moved both of them close to the materials table. « Remember that day I visited you while you guys were digging? »

But there wasn’t any- was he onto something? « Oh, yeah, you were walking home from school and you decided to stop. » he played along, as his friend nodded, making sure to be heard by the rude couple.

In the meantime, one of the students had gone out to update their teacher on the situation.

« Yeah, when you found that beautiful ceramic piece! » Roman turned to recognize the piece he had seen in the pic he had been shown, then pointed it. « Is it that one? »

« Yes, I can pick it up for you. » Virgil did so as he spoke.

« Wow, it’s even more gorgeous. »

« We had a hard time cleaning everything, so we tried to do the best job we could. Getting dirt out of bones is also … not super easy. »

« You guys are awesome. » Roman kept glancing around the room arranged for the exhibition, while the now embarrassed couple decided to leave under the incinerating stare of Mr. Richardson who had just came in to witness the situation.

Everybody in the room went to either grin or laugh inside, while the two boys shared a high five.

After making sure everything was under control, the teacher decided to begin cleaning up the place, so all the guests that stayed to chatter were dismissed.

« Hey, uh … » Virgil struggled to get out his voice, a little for being tired, a little because in moments of shyness his tone would go out as nothing more than a simple mutter. « Thank you for earlier and … also for coming, I guess. »

« Both of them were my utter pleasure. » Roman had a thing for being extra, and if he chose that aesthetic, he better had to stick to it by doing a theatrical bow at his friend.

« You are a nerd. »

« With style! »

« Whatever helps you sleep at night. » Virgil turned around to face the tower and began walking away. « See you around, Princey. »

There went another one.

Roman had to giggle quietly to himself, every single time his mind traveled to that one particular moment back in the first year when-

« You know, this is what I was talking about. »

He felt a presence walking by his side, suddenly, and found Mr. Eagan glaring at him with an almost nostalgic look.

« I’ve been telling him for years that he has the acting potential. » she sighed while Roman simply nodded along. « He’s been getting better, you see this isn’t the first exhibition they do, I’ve seen them all. »

« Oh, really? »

« Yes. And you can totally sense how much emotion he’s putting, you can tell he’s invested. »

« I agree, I’ve had the occasion to see that. »

« And honestly I feel bad for forcing him into this play thing … but I’m sure he’s going to shine. I’m so proud of him. » she smiled at herself, then stopped in her tracks and looked up at her student. « And I’m also sure you’ll do a good job. Bring out his talent, Roman. In your own special way. »

He remained speechless for a moment, just how much trust did these teachers actually have in both of them? He found it endearing, he felt almost as if they had some kind of motherly appreciation towards them.

« Thank you. We’ll work very hard on this one, you’ll see! »

They exchanged their farewells and Roman headed home, this time by himself, having all kinds of thoughts in his mind.

But most of all, he felt worried.

All of a sudden, it seemed like a blank page was being replaced in his head instead of all the knowledge apprehended through his life.

He had no idea how to start helping Virgil.

✾✾✾✾

Despite the initial awkwardness, things had begun to go way better than both of them had imagined. The occasional staying late after the theater meetings had allowed them to grow closer, so much that they at least shared a few words during break every day at school. And that was a huge effort for Virgil as he preferred to stay in class where almost none hanged around and simply scroll through his phone, waiting for the last two dreadful hours of lessons.

And, well, random texts weren’t late to arrive to the party, too.

Princey: okay but can we talk about what an idiot Pentheus is?

Vee: this is a weird midnight text to get, but go off I guess

Princey: I’m serious! Come on, like why don’t you just let people do their thingsss

Vee: Oh you’re taking this to heart, alright

Princey: Yeah?? Am I not supposed to be emotionally invested in my own play?

Vee: You’re talking as if you’ve written it

Princey: Maybe I did

Vee: gasp are you Euripides reincarnated

Princey: The one and only

Vee: My apologies sir, you have all the rights to whine about your own plot

Vee: I also have no clue how you know english

Princey: It’s the muses’ power!

Vee: Melpomene?

Princey: Bless you

Vee: Wow okay, go to sleep

Princey: Sleep is for the weak

Vee: And you’re gonna be weak in the morning so it really doesn’t matter

Princey: Alright, mum, why would you stay up then?

Vee: Reasons

Princey: Are you still scrolling through Tumblr and sticking to your natural emo kid persona?

Vee: ouch

Vee: no,  but I’d love to

Princey: mhh then you forgot to do homework or study?

Vee: You know me, I’m too anxious about my parents’ judgment to do that

Princey: demanding parents?

Vee: sorta.

Princey: sore topic?

Vee: Yup.

Princey: Alright then, you’re watching a movie? An anime?

Vee: No, I’m just talking to an idiot who won’t go to sleep

Princey: Oh I see, sounds like a total badass guy fighting the system

Vee: Yeah, fighting his body’s shut down system if he doesn’t get enough sleep.

Princey: bold of you to say that when we’re in the same situation

Vee: listen we’re talking about you stay focused

Princey: you know I’m right

Princey: C'mon why are you still up

Vee: no reason tbh

Vee: I just can’t seem to fall asleep so I’m tyring myself out until I can pass out on my bed

Princey: thaaat doesn’t seem very healthy

Vee: I never said I wanted to take care of myself

Princey: LOVE  YOURSELF BITCH

Vee: HAH

Vee: no.

Princey: i will make you!!

Princey: one day we’ll have a big relaxation day and you will be able to see the beauty in yourself!!

Vee: sounds unrealistic i’m in

Princey: come on work with me emo nightmare

Vee: i’m too lazy to live i’m sorry

Princey: then why don’t you just s l e e p

Vee: bc my sleep schedule is a mess and i cant seem to even shut my eyes everything in my life is going straight in the trash can and uhhhhhh yeah everything sucks

Princey: woah slow down

Princey: okay look you’re having me a bit concerned here

Vee: haha no it’s the usual daily stuff for me

Princey: ……….. it shouldn’t be????

Vee: eh

Princey: hey, would you answer if I called you?

Vee: if this is because of what i’ve just said, you’re worrying too much

Princey: nah it’s just for a distraction

Princey: and maybe you’ll be able to fall asleep

Vee: are you implying your voice is boring or you want to sing me a lullaby?

Princey: i’ll pretend i didn’t read the first part but i’ll have you know i have a very beautiful singing voice

Vee: pf alright i’m not entirely convinced

Princey: i’ll buy both of us coffee at the vending machine tomorrow morning before the first lesson starts

Vee: okay i’m sold, hit me up

✾✾✾✾

« This is unacceptable! I’m sorry, our friendship has to end here, I’m leaving. »

« I’m telling you, I have my reasons. »

« You can’t just simply dislike Hercules! »

Virgil sighed in defeat and resigned in his plastic seat; Christmas holidays had been around for a week, new year’s was already approaching and two youngsters had decided to spend an afternoon together with the excuse of reading some lines out of their scripts and helping each other out.

It wasn’t really the first time they did that, plus with the arrival of winter it was a nice excuse to be comforted by a warm cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream.

Just like they were doing in that moment, only that it seemed that they had completely forgotten about the play because of how much they were invested in other topics. Such as, obviously, Disney movies.

« It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just … so wrong. »

« Oh my- it’s not Percy Jackson, it’s Disney, they’re allowed to take some creative liberties. »

« I know, but I didn’t watch it as a child, I saw it recently- »

« How dare you. »

« -shut up. What I mean is: my studies have ruined its likability. »

Roman closed his eyes and put his hands together in front of his face in an exasperated manner. « Then let’s hear these freaking reasons, enlighten my blindness, o wise one! »

Virgil couldn’t help but smirk as the other one huffed. « First of all, thank you for the compliment. »

« But, see, the first thing that got me was the character of Phil. The actual Philoctetes wasn’t a satyr, he was a hero that fought in the Trojan war who also happened to be Hercules’ friend at some point. »

« Well, they were linked in the end! »

« Let me finish. All the deeds that Phil claimed to have made? All those heroes he trained? Bullshit. Everything was done by Chiron, the only wise and composed centaur of greek mythology. And like centaurs were thought as savage beasts, satyrs were always linked to Dionysus and described as libidinal creatures. Philoctetes would have probably felt insulted. »

« Your studies may have ruined your view but you’re ruining my childhood right now. » Roman muttered the words as a childish pout formed on his lips.

« Ah, also Megara was a city, not a person. » said Virgil with nonchalance.

« WHAT. » the wide-eyed actor jumped in his seat and surged forward a little, blinking a few times.

Without expecting it, Virgil’s composed face contorted with a snort, which then grew into giggles and then again transformed into a genuine and amused laughter that couldn’t stop.

He tried to breathe in. « Princey, you- » he cut himself off as another wave of giggles hit him, so he held one hand up as if to tell him to wait until he could properly compose himself.

And Roman knew he otherwise would have felt offended, or at least in a playful way, he knew normally he would have instantly asked what was the matter. But he couldn’t really shake off the feeling of wanting to protect and carve this picture into his memory until it was the only thing he could remember.

And he truly wanted to share that angelic laughter, participate to the mirthful moment, yet he found himself solely staring at the unusual sight in pleasant disbelief at how stunning that scene was.

He could merely twitch his lips upwards and consider how much he adored hearing the nickname in such an entertained voice.

Something inside Roman clicked as Virgil finally gained enough breath, and he knew he was done for.

« Sorry, uh, » he was finally able to breathe out. «  I was actually messing with you. She did exist. »

He looked him in the eyes and all Roman could think was “finally”.

After a beat, noticing the other didn’t respond and assuming he was upset or something, he continued. « Though she and their children were afterwards killed by Hercules according to some. Others think he killed his children and Megara compelled him to commit suicide. Awful stories for great heroes, I guess. »

Roman, who was still starstruck, was only able to comment. « Breathtaking. »

Virgil made a face and lowered the cup he was raising to his lips. « What? »

« Uh … what? No I was just- the TV! Behind you, yes. I was commenting that. »

The confused one turned ever so slightly to quickly glance at the old black screen facing his back. « Alright, I won’t question your weird obsession with old style televisions. »

Nailed it.

Their discourse went on escalating to different topics, but never once brushing the fact that they met to keep up their theater practice, like good procrastinating students. It wasn’t like they were avoiding it on purpose, for the first time they felt like spending quality time with each other was their main priority.

« Okay, listen, Tripping in the Darkness. I went on a cruise once and even there I was able to reveal my beautiful voice. »

« So sorry for the passengers. »

« I should have left you outside freezing in the cold. » Roman scoffed after a beat.

« But you didn’t. »

« I’m starting to reconsider. »

« We both know you would never do it. »

« I forgive you only because you’re cute. » oh wait, oh wha- Roman immediately hid behind his cup, drinking the last remaining of his warm beverage. He hoped that the heat would rush off of his cheeks by the time he had finished.

« Wow, I’m flattered. » Virgil didn’t leave his sarcastic tone and didn’t seem to have noticed anything different, until he snorted out loud when he was met with Roman’s face after he lowered the cup.

Roman’s heart sank, was he still blushing? Was he already onto him? That was bad, that was-

« You got … » Virgil’s voice got back to being amused and he gestured towards his face. Oh, great, he had a chocolate-stained face now. Just what he needed.

« Where? Is it gone? » he frantically kept on asking as he wiped around his mouth and cheeks with his bare hand.

His friend shook his head. « Not even close. »

On a scale on one to Roman’s worst embarrassing moments compilation, he would have probably found himself on top of that very ranking, because after that Virgil simply reached for the container on the little table.

« For starters, you take a tissue. » while he did so, Roman could only watch as his friend  gently rubbed away the spot on the bridge of his nose. Oh. The cup did touch it earlier.

Alright that was awkward and I’m stupid, let’s move on.

But no, his brain had decided to short circuit and leave him to his impulsiveness; out of the blue, he grabbed Virgil’s wrist before he pulled away completely.

Virgil blinked, confused once again by his behavior. « Uh, what’s up? »

That’s when Roman’s mind finally snapped to reality and, of course, he panicked to find the best excuse he could permit, so he slid both of his hands to cage Virgil’s own. « You’re super cold! » he noticed, lowering their hands to rest on the table.

« Yeah? It’s minus degrees outside? And I’m often anxious? »

« Oh, right. » why was he feeling more sympathetic than usual? « Then, I shall protect you from both! »

« By holding my hand? »

« By making sure your heat level is within the parameters! »

« Alright, Doc. I’ll trust you. »

That was how they ended up holding hands for the rest of the day without even realizing until they had to part.

« You sure you don’t want me to accompany you to the parking lot? »

« I’m fine, don’t mind. »

They were standing out of the cafe to exchange their goodbyes, about to head for different streets and eventually go home.

« You know, you didn’t really have to pay for me, I’m not broke. » Virgil talked in little puffs of condensed air, hands in his pockets and trying to shake off the cold stinging sensation that pierced his skin.

« Oh, soft you now, »

« Is that a fucking Hamlet quote? »

« -it is my duty to ensure your well-being. Plus I know you hate talking to cashiers, so. »

« You’re the worst, but thank you. » Virgil rolled his eyes. « I still feel like I owe you one now, though. »

Well you could just kiss me whenever you feel like, a part of Roman’s brain noted. Uhm, what the fuck is your problem? Responded the other.

« Nah, I’ll probably forget it by the next time we talk. » he admitted, ignoring the weird thoughts that were happening in his mind, a mind that needed to shut up for at least a single second.

Virgil muttered an “alright” and was about to turn around and wave him off, like he always did, when he was confronted by a simple demand.

« Uh, can I, like, hug you? »

He stopped in his tracks, considering for a moment, before a “sure” escaped his lips and he started nodding.

Roman stepped closer and wrapped his arms around his chest, content and making a little pleased sound as the other returned the hug. He wasn’t sure why he was being so uncertain that day.

« Bye, Virge! » he called out as he stepped away from his friend and began walking home.

Virgil waved in return and immediately took out his phone and earbuds: after hitting shuffle he was fast to recognize the song by the first chords.

Acceptance, huh? He had discovered their song back in middle school. Boy, did he try so hard to be edgy. Still, certain songs weren’t really that bad.

Oh no, this couldn’t be more unexpected.

He had just made to turn the corner of a mansion’s fence when a realization struck him. And he was still subtly smiling because of it.

He somehow hadn’t been aware of it in the moment, probably because of their distracting conversation.

The lyrics went by in his ears and he almost didn’t even notice the words flowing in his head as that little memory of their afternoon occupied his mind.

Could this be out of line? To say you’re the only one breaking me down like this.

Roman had been brushing his thumb against his skin for almost all the time he had been holding onto his hand earlier.

He also had hugged him a little bit tighter than how he remembered back in October. And he was very excited too, that day.

And yeah, the majority of sane people would have found the situation simply nice or just a normal friendly action. But Virgil?

Come to think of it, I’m aching.

Yeah, he was already burying his face in his hoodie. God, was that heat rushing at his cheeks? Did his body really want to make it any more obvious?

On account of my transgression, will you welcome this confession?

Oh god, oh fu-

Virgil exhaled deeply and rubbed at his face with his hands, an unwelcome warm feeling spreading in his chest, it felt like as if someone was lighting a fire in there, not caring for the emotional damage that they were about to cause. Like a firework sent up in the middle of the night only to startle you enough to wake you up in a cold sweat and thumping heart.

Keep me hanging on so contagiously.

Virgil abruptly ripped the earbuds away from his ears and stuffed everything in his pockets as he leaned on his school’s gate, staring at the parking lot in front of him. His parents had yet to arrive to pick him up.

He had enough time to calm down.

« Well, I’m fucked. »

Maybe.

✾✾✾✾

Princey: HAPPY NEW YEAR V!!

Vee: yeee here’s to another shitty one

Princey: AW COME ON try to be a bit more upbeat

Vee: YEEE HERE’S TO ANOTHER SHITTY ONE!!!!

Princey: THAT’S MORE LIKE IT COMRADE

Vee: wtf okay

Princey sent a pic

Vee: are those streamers in your hair?

Vee: and … glitter?

Princey: don’t question it it’s your turn now send me something

Vee: i don’t think that’s how it works

Princey: do iiiiiit scaredy cat

Vee: fine

Vee sent a pic

Princey: .. wait

Princey: Are you in bed?

Vee: On the couch, actually

Vee: if that’s what you’re asking yes, i’m at home

Princey: and you’re not having fun? Are you okay??

Vee: yes don’t worry

Vee: i’m by myself

Princey: WHAT

Vee: gee it’s not that weird

Princey: no it’s just i thought you were out with friends

Vee: were all busy

Vee: but it’s fine, i don’t really appreciate big and loud parties

Vee: and i jump at every single loud noise so fireworks are a big no for me

Princey: you should have told me!! i would have managed something, we could have even just chilled alone

Vee: no it’s fine really, thank you

Vee: sorry to bring you down with that

Princey: oh shush

Princey: can i call you?

Vee: that’s sweet and all but i’d feel like i’m bothering you so

Princey: what are you talking about, plus there are so many people here they won’t even realize i’m gone for a while

Vee: i don’t wanna waste your time, it’s ok

Princey: but you’re not doing that!

Princey: idk can I at least visit you for some time? I don’t want you being all alone like that

Vee: no

Vee: i mean not that i don’t want you here but i’d feel guilty, i told you

Princey: you don’t have to!!

Princey: i lo kdjsdsdjk

Vee: what-

Princey: look i care about you, you’re one of my closest friends already and i love spending time with you, so if there’s a way for me to cheer you up i will gladly accept it

Vee: that is …

Vee: the gayest thing i’ve ever read

Vee: you’re a dork

Princey: i will take all that as a compliment

Vee: okay let me just

Vee: get my dog off of me

Princey: ADORABLE DOG

Vee: yeah i love her

Vee: and afterwards you can call me alright

Princey: SCORE!!

Princey: okay

Vee: one thing though

Princey: mirror mirror on the wall what’s the question botherin y'all

Vee: … i’ll pretend i’ve never read that

Vee: are you still getting me coffee tomorrow morning like that one time

Princey: if this is a subtle “do you wanna hang out here” i’m all for it, tho expect me to come up at like 11

Vee: wow you know exactly how to make things awkward everytime

Vee: okay dog’s off, you can call

Princey: on it!

✾✾✾✾

It is widely known and said that time flies by quickly when you’re either having fun, doing nothing or during the holidays. Students had reluctantly returned to their daily routines of lessons, homework and studying, trying to frame everything in the best way, so that they had at least some time to breathe between their tasks.

January, sadly, meant that the end of the first term was approaching inexorably  and the teachers suddenly realized they needed more marks than they actually had from every student in a matter of two weeks. Everything for the initial report cards that, in the end, didn’t matter at all compared to the final one.

Thanks to February, students would have some time to breathe and re-gain strength until March, which was another wave of tests in preparation for the real monster: May.

For the last years, though, February also meant that they were going to get more information about which subjects they had to focus on the most for their final exams, which could only be linked to chaos, panic and that anxious but subtle feeling that the big moment was coming.

Thankfully, the weekend existed and with it also places for poor unfortunate souls to release stress and distract themselves from the imminent danger.

And that is how we follow two fellow individuals in distress who had decided upon spending their first free time in weeks walking around town and having a nice chat during night. At least before they ended up in a little desolated playground, their scripts in front of their faces, definitely acting more dramatically than needed.

« Do you perform the rites by night or by day? » Roman leaned on one of the street lamps, permitting him to read his line and, at the same time, he widely gestured with his free hand.

« Mostly by night; darkness conveys awe. » Virgil emphasized his second line with such an ominous tone that made his friend giggle lightly.

« Oh my, I’m thrilled. »

« Okay but you’ve got to admit it’s actually a cool phrase to say. »

« Maybe if we were serious enough, my darkling. »

After Virgil’s usual “shut up and keep reading” (which he had been using for the past fifteen minutes, mind you), Roman complied. « This is treacherous towards women, and unsound. » his voice sounded almost offended, his hand trailed over his heart in a fist.

Virgil bit back a grin at the sight. « Even during the day someone may devise what is shameful. »

« This vile quibbling settles your punishment. » the taller one took a few steps forward, pointing his finger on his friend, accusatory.

« Your ignorance and impiety toward the god will settle yours. » Virgil snarled, imitating the other in pointing fingers.

Roman gasped way more dramatically than needed and placed a hand on his chest, eyes wide with disbelief. « How bold the Bacchant is, and not unpracticed in speaking! »

His acting partner intook some breath, before stopping, narrow eyed, while he read his words.

« What, is something wrong? » Roman demanded, eyes scanning the next lines before looking up.

« This is so fucking gay. » he admitted, a smile playing on his lips as he contemplated the possibility of a different turn of events in the plot.

« Dionysus and Pentheus, but make it gayer. »

« Than it already is? That’s a challenge. »

« I have something in mind. » Virgil didn’t like the mischievous look on Roman’s face. « Keep going. »

« Tell me what I must suffer; what grievous harm will you do to me? » he hadn’t noticed how fast the other was to reach him, the previous grin was still imprinted on his lips. His pace faltered only a bit, but didn’t stop when he was a few steps from his Dionysus.

« First, I will cut off your delicate curls. »  how Roman could change his tone from a mocking one to a warm and clear one, would forever be an unsolved mystery to the world. He proceeded to raise a hand to Virgil’s hair and slowly moved his bangs to the side, a knuckle brushing his cheek afterwards.

« My locks are sacred; I am growing them for the god. » Virgil played along and started to remember the lines, a result of their persistent reading every week. Not that he could really tear off his eyes from the looming figure in front of him.

« Next, give me this thyrsos from your hands. » other steps forward and Roman had trapped him against some metal bars he wasn’t aware of.

« Take it from me yourself; this is the wand of Dionysus I am bearing. » with no warning, Roman pressed his right hand, where the actual thyrsos would have been, to the bars and locked their fingers together. He leaned in even further, making sure Virgil could notice the sly sparkle in his half-lidded eyes.

« Last, I will guard your body deep in the dungeons. » his other hand gripped the bars right next to the boy’s head, literally trapping him. He had to stay in character, after all.

The leaning was slow this time, but didn’t seem to be stopping at any moment and Virgil could swear he felt his body move without his consent.

Inches apart, and Roman’s lips twitched upward. He stopped.

Virgil snorted.

Next thing they knew they were both bursting out laughing like they had just heard the best joke their favorite comedian had ever made.

« That was- » Virgil tried, after they both collapsed to the ground, weak in their knees for too much hilarity. « That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. »

« When Pentheus and Dionysus couldn’t get any gayer. » Roman commented through an almost hysterical laughter, while part of his brain began to shut down in a ohgodwhathasjusthappenediwasabouttobutthenididntandisthisthereallife state. An everyday situation to which he was used to, of course.

« Actually, » his friend began, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. « Greek gods are very open about their sexuality. »

« Oh, yeah. Wasn’t it Zeus himself that tried to f- » Roman was instantly shushed to silence, while a pained expression grew on the other’s face.

« We don’t talk about him. »

Fair enough. They had been in comfortable silence for quite a while, sitting on the ground and enjoying the void of the night as the only sources of light showed them only certain features and details of the objects around them.

« Hey, Virge? »

The mentioned boy almost jumped at the sudden sound. « Yeah? »

Roman’s expression, fixated on something ahead of him, was somewhat between focused and in a daze.

« Did you know the teachers wanted to keep your hair growing for the play? »

« What. »

« They decided against it when they realized I actually had to cut them away during the show. »

« Why are you telling me this right now? »

« I was just thinking about … » Roman’s words lingered, as if he thought about whether or not he could disclose a secret.

About me, please say about me. Virgil shook off the bizarre thought while he waited for a response. Are you fucking kidding me? Part of his mind answered. Didn’t all those past experiences teach you anything?  Virgil found it harder to concentrate on Roman’s words now, he creased his eyebrows as if he were having a headache.

Those were in elementary school and middle school, you idiot. The other side responded. They were still valid experiences!

« Ohi. » Roman waved his hand in front of the other’s face. « Are you on this planet, sir? »

« Sadly, I still am. »

Roman rolled his eyes at that. « Dang, here I thought the aliens had gotten you. »

« You wish. »

« Anyway, I was about to get going since it’s getting pretty late even for a Saturday night. » he pulled himself on his feet, then smiled brightly and turned to his friend. « Lift home? »

« Thank god you exist. »

And Roman did really try hard to act cool and all, but he found out he couldn’t prevent his face from turning at least the weakest tint of red.

✾✾✾✾

They didn’t know how it was possible, but they made it through until April.

The last two months were a train wreck of multiple meetings between Roman’s wonderful school trip abroad, additional tests, the first exams simulations, and things getting very serious at theater club. The designs, scenes, props and costumes were all coming along neatly and, with everybody giving their all, the excitement for the play could be felt through thin air. Roman was thrilled and he thought that there wasn’t nothing else that could possibly be better than that kind of feeling.

Virgil begged to differ.

He was standing in the middle of the external part of the front of the school with a couple of other classes of his same course; they all had backpacks on their backs and a luggage held close.

Virgil was almost bouncing, unable to stay still, he started tapping his fingers on the handle of his own luggage. The anticipation was killing him, how could everybody else be so calm and casual? They were about to leave for a trip to Greece!

It was the most wanted and awaited of school trips for their course, it happened every three years and not only students were given the opportunity to confront and visit places and subjects they had studied, but also thanks to certain lovable teachers the weirdest and funniest things occurred in those trips. It was a dream come true, finally at their fingertips.

He really didn’t want to seem mean, but Virgil couldn’t stop looking at the time on his phone while one of his closest classmates trailed off talking about how energetic they felt for the trip ahead.

Until …

« Wine god! » what the f-

Virgil and his friend looked up simultaneously to be met with the vision of Roman waving one arm from the top of the external stairs and afterwards quickly running down towards them.

« I didn’t see you anywhere this morning! » he was still half-running when he spoke those words, as he reached them. He put his hands on Virgil’s shoulders.

« We didn’t really leave until now, we had a test. »

His eyes widened « What the heck? Right before a trip? »

Virgil shrugged. They had chosen it was better to do it before than afterwards.

« Well, anyway, I wanted to properly say goodbye and wish you a good travel! »

« Thank you, buddy. You really didn’t have to, aren’t you having a lesson right now? » Virgil raised one eyebrow, uncertain.

Roman showed him one of his stupidly charming grins and put his hands on his hips. « I simply asked to go to the bathroom. »

« I hate to break it to you, Roman, but this isn’t exactly the right way. »

« Oh, shut up. You know I wanted to see you before you headed off for the seven seas! »

« We’re literally traveling through the same sea, what are you tal- »

« It’s been a long day, let me have this. »

Virgil tilted his head to the side, they had been in school for only three hours, what exactly did that make it a long day?

His thoughts were broken by the thundering of one of his teachers who announced that everybody had to get ready since they were going to leave in a matter of minutes.

« Alright then. » Roman murmured with a slightly sad sigh, he quickly replaced his defeated expression with a smile, careful not to be discovered. « I’ll have to leave now. »

C'mon say something. His heart begged for mercy as Virgil looked back up at him and he saw two bright gray irises, the sun’s rays hitting them from the side just enough to make them look like literal crystals.

Anything would do, take your chance, tell him!

His eyes fell to the figure right next to them, still standing there and witnessing every one of their interactions. Well, maybe next time.

Roman leaned forwards and wrapped his arms around his friend’s shoulders in a tight embrace that was soon returned a bit more weakly around his waist. He felt like he was holding on him for dear life more than anything.

His hand trailed at the nape of his neck and stroked his hair for some instants, in which Virgil tightened his own hug and laughed silently on his shoulder.

« I’m not leaving forever, you know? The time zone is not even that different. »

« I know but I’ll be lonely! »

« We both know that’s not true. » Virgil released the other and patted his shoulder. « You’ll be fine and you can text me whenever you want when I’m not in the ferry. »

Roman let out a fake annoyed huff, but smiled anyway. « Have a safe trip, Virge. » he backed away, still facing him while waving a hand.

Then he turned to the other boy.

« Keep an eye on him for me, okay? »

« Will do! »

At this, Roman sprinted away towards his class and could only smirk wider when Virgil called him out with a “Oh shut up, Princey.”

Virgil met his friend’s all-knowing look as he turned away from the spot where he saw Roman disappear, not realizing he had a soft expression written over all of his face.

« Why are you- no. Listen, it’s not what you- »

His friend ignored him, dancing around him. « You’re doing flips, read my lips, you’re in love! » he sang, while Virgil buried his face in his hands since for some godforsaken reason when he was embarrassed he tended to have a weird smile on his face that made him completely implausible. He hated that, it only made people tease him even further.

Which was exactly what happened in this situation, even after Virgil had smacked him behind the head lightly and started to get going towards the bus station as their teachers had instructed.

[ask-de-writer]

DARING DO and THE GRYPHON’S QUEST! : MLP Fan Fiction : Part 19 of 19

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

DARING DO

and

THE GRYPHON’S QUEST!

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

and

Carmen Pondiego

Cover art by Aranel the Cyborg, now  Wind the Mama Cat

29584 words

© 2020 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Writing begun 03/29/16

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

This is a Fan Fiction based on My Little Pony.  Canterlot, Princess Luna and the name Daring Do are owned by Hasboro Inc.

//////////////

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions, provided that such things are done without charge.  I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.  

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fictions is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

Chapter 19. Enlightenment

While Friend was tending to her newest “nymphs,” the young Eagles, Daring Do asked, “What was it?  I guess that I was poisoned?”

The nurse, taking advantage of Friend’s slight distraction, started to take Daring Do’s blood pressure and stuck a thermometer in her mouth.  She replied, “It was a whole Hellbore mushroom in the sauce and diced throughout your steak.  They had two of them.  The other was being prepared for the Imperial table.”

Grata, crest set to thanks, carried on, “Luck alone caused a server to be over eager for the credit of destroying the Blasphemer.  If we had all been served at once, as planned, they might have killed much of the rule of the Empire.”

Carmen picked up the story.  “You have chosen well to have Friend as your “hive.”  That is what she means when she calls you Matunen.  I know that you know what it means.”

Daring Do managed a small nod.

“When you fell, Friend was off that nest in an instant.  She wrapped you in a form of magic that none of us, not even Uncle M, has seen.  We know that it stopped your heart beat and breathing.  It was impenetrable as well.

“Friend’s magic that seems so delicate?  It reached out and sealed the whole banquet hall.  One conspirator tried to fly through it.  All that hit the floor was a rain of blood, feathers and shreds of flesh and bone.  No other was stupid enough to try that again!

“She sort of swept the room with it.  All of the conspirators there were wadded up and dumped before the Throne like a pile of rabbit droppings! Krapper was still yelling about Blasphemy.”

Daring Do chuckled. It hurt.  A lot.  It was worth it.  Friend put down the Eagle chick that she was tending and stepped over to lay her horn to Daring Do’s forehead.

Calmly she stated, “Matunen is tired.  She needs more prey.”

The voice of steel called out, “Friend needs more prey!  You five!  Come out for selection!”

General Ironhooves escorted the unlucky five Gryphons into the room.  One whined, “It is bad enough that … that thing is killing us by torture. Why do we have to watch it happen?”

Grata, crest raised in outrage, demanded, “So, it was a matter of celebration to use THE COWARD’S WEAPON of poison against one who was PROVING our Legends but it is not OK to see the consequence of your criminal and cowardly actions?”

As they were speaking, Friend’s delicate seeming magic settled about one of the five.  He gave a despairing squawk as he aged visibly.  Feathers began to loosen and fall out.  His eyes filmed over, going to an opaque pale blue.  He simply withered where he stood, until he could stand no more.  

Friend stepped over to her victim and simply bit into his neck.  There was not much blood.  The Eagles hop-fluttered to his carcass and began to strip what was left of his meat from the bones.  One of the four being made to watch vomited.

Daring Do felt the soft, loving magic that she trusted absolutely settle through her.  As it did, it brought safety, strength and comfort.

Having eaten her fill, Friend returned to her happy preening of Eagle chicks. A hospital aerie orderly came in and cleaned up the remaining mess.  As he carried away the bones and scraps, he commented with cheer, “Another one for the midden.”

Daring Do brought something to mind.  “The civil war?  Did we stop it?”

General Ironhooves replied, “Oh, it started while the banquet and Friend’s little round up was going on.  It is down to a few isolated actions in several valleys.  It should be over completely in another few days to a week.

”For a long planned revolt, they were really poorly equipped.”  He cast a glance at Carmen as he went on, “I can’t imagine how they wound up so short of equipment and ammo.”

He grinned hugely.  “Carmen and VILE have the best combination of Intelligence and sabotage that I have ever had the pleasure of having on my side!”

Grata, crest rippling in amusement, added, “VILE sold us a most amazing array of military hardware at very reasonable rates!  At prices like that, one would ALMOST think that they were not acquired honestly!”

Daring Do snickered.  “VILE has never been proved of or caught in any illegal act.  They MUST have been properly obtained.”

There was a small commotion at the door.  Grata told the guards, “That is Marehem.  He is both family and has Imperial clearance.  Let him in.”

The blue changeling with his orange mop of a mane, entered the room.  He made a sideways grin as he handed a check to Carmen.  “Here you are, my Dear.  The last of the settlements.  It seems inconceivable, but Allstable Insurance has some unhappy customers.”

The General raised an eyebrow.  “How so?”

Marehem snorted, “We have been very actively selling insurance on collections of militaria throughout the Empire.  Mostly to First Creationists.

“Recently, they opened up their warehouses and vaults.  Many valuable articles were missing!  Articles like main battle tanks and artillery pieces.

“Careful examination of each case resulted in denial of the claims for methods of loss not covered by the policy.”

Grata, crest dripping sarcasm, asked, “How could that possibly have happened?”

Daring Do managed to point a hoof at Marehem.  “HE wrote the policies!  That is how!”

Carmen agreed, “It is indeed how.  Agent payrolls must be met someway.  I was happy to be of assistance in this case.”  She grinned happily, “In the course of evaluating the “collections of militaria”, we found a few other things to acquire!  Our private museum’s collection of Gryphon art and sculpture is much improved!”

She turned to the General. “Your advice on military collectibles has proved invaluable, General. We had not done much in that regard but now have the start to a good collection.  Thank you.”

He tipped his hat.  “It was a pleasure, Ms. Pondiego.”

Daring Do was hit by a question.  “Umm, the war is almost over?  How long was I unconscious?”

The nurse replied, “Define unconscious.  By every test that we know, you were dead for the first week.  We remember the fool that tried to fly through that weak looking magic of Friend’s!

“She was taking three or four prey a day for that week.  She said that you were loving her back properly.  Then you started to breathe and your heart to beat. That was two weeks ago.  We have gone with her assessments ever since!”

Daring Do’s mind was ticking off the time that they had known Friend and helped her with her precious eggs.  “Shouldn’t the eggs have hatched some time ago?” Friend looked up from her chick preening and feeding.  “Friend loved them to wait so that Matunen could watch her nymphs emerge.”

There came a voice from the doorway that could be as loud as a Royal Canterlot Voice or as soft as a dream.  Princess Luna entered the room.

The nurse, showing a typical Gryphon respect for leadership, crest rippling with amusement, commented, “Good thing that we don’t have a Navy!  This much brass could overload and sink any ship!”

Luna turned to Grata and said quietly, “I am glad that you Gryphons can handle such informality.  Our Court …” She shook her head. “Bunch of overstuffed lunks for the most part.  No sense of humor.”

Grata, crest rippling amusement, replied, “You have had thousands of years of practice at being fluffed feathers.  Give us time.  With luck, we will learn to avoid that pitfall by seeing your experience.”

Chuckling, Luna stepped around the hospital nest and smiled at Friend and her nymphs.  She stepped close and nuzzled Friend.  “Thank you, Friend.  You have given me the best gift that I ever got.  These Gryphons that you loved into being are the best thing that ever came of our horrible Nightmare Wars.”

Friend looked up to Princess Luna, tears in her eyes.  “They are good nymphs.”  She suddenly made hardened steel seem soft.  “Some are failed nymphs, good only for prey.  They hurt Matunen. I take them and love their lives to help Matunen.”

Without any disturbance at all, Princess Luna said, “So I have heard. Why did you choose Doctor Do as Matunen?  You know that she can’t give you eggs to tend.”

Friend stared over at Daring Do with love.  “From her first word, Daring Do shared care for Friend.  She shared mind/heart/love without hesitation or fear.  She found out about my eggs.  With many other things important to her, she made my eggs most important.  No better Matunen could be.”

Luna nodded.  “I do see now why you chose her.  If none have told you so, Friend, you are wise.”

Luna turned to Daring Do and offered, “You have our greatest thanks, Doctor Do.  We found your exhibit on the origins of Gryphons at the end of the last Nightmare War in the Royal Museum.  Some, on the acquisitions committee, wanted to remove it until it should be properly cataloged and formally accepted.  I ordered it kept on display without reservation.”

Daring Do glanced a question to Carmen.  Carmen shrugged.  “We know how much of a pain it is to give anything to the Royal Museum.  True that they are far better now that Count Umber is out of the woodwork, but it is still not easy.  It seemed more expeditious to simply install it in its logical place.”

Daring Do grinned at that.  Turning to Luna she said, “I thought that you would like to know that this whole wonderful species came out of that terrible time.  That such goodness and honor arose from that dark part of our past.”

Luna nodded slowly, tears at the corners of her eyes.  “You were so right, Doctor Do.  It really does help.”

Daring Do replied, “I am glad that it does.

“Friend, may I see our nymphs?  Up close, I mean?”

Smiling, Friend brought over one chick at a time, using her egg turning claw as a sort of perch and support.  After holding each chick close for examination, she set it down on Daring Do’s blanket and fetched another.  When the last of the chicks had been transferred, Friend clambered up onto the hospital nest along with them.

She was happily preening the chicks and feeding them.  Daring Do realized that she was feeding them by regurgitating small amounts of food.  And what, or rather who, the food was.

Oddly, it did not bother her at all.  She lay there and thought it over, figuring out that her sharing with Friend had been more complete than she had at first known.  It was actually a comforting idea.

About two weeks later, Daring Do was back in the Royal Banquet Hall.  In a mobility cart.  Friend was pushing her along.  In the cart with her was a collection of eaglets, just starting to fletch out.

After the meal, of which Daring Do could only eat a little, she was wheeled about to a place in front of the display of Gryphon origins.

She began, “As I was about to say, before I was so rudely interrupted …”

–THE END–

///////////////////////

<==PREVIOUS

[pocket-infinity]

Back at it again, everyone...

Well, here I am again. Theorizing. We’re still on with @corruptapostasy’s The Only Option (I’m never going to stop telling you to read it until you do). Even more massive spoiler warning than last time.

So here we are with a Grimm/Enkay/Nightmare King theory. Again, where should we start? How about with Chapter 7, where everyone who has read this probably had a “what the actual fuck just happened” moment. Though, specifically, I’d like to focus in on a two things: 1. Why the hell does Enkay’s ghost look so… mangled? 2. What do Enkay’s words mean?

Well, given that this whole scenario is a mystery wrapped in an enigma bundled up in a bouquet of lies, it would be rather helpful to determine reliability of narrator. In order from most to least reliable, I believe the three major players to fall as such: Enkay, Nightmare King, and Grimm. Now how, exactly, did I arrive at this order? The answer comes from the behaviors of each of the characters. Enkay is the simplest to answer; he literally has no reason to lie, and every reason to tell the truth. He was the Pale King’s lover, and during their brief reunion in Chapter 5, he goes so far as to say, “‘It's a name. All you need to ask of him is a name.’” to which the King responds, “‘Say it, please. Say the name.’” Enkay finally replying with the name “Shade Lord,” and in so doing he reveals information that Grimm was attempting to keep secret. The only potential way we could get misinformation from Enkay is if he himself was misinformed, which is highly unlikely, as he is part of the collective consciousness that forms the Nightmare King.

The Nightmare King places second mostly because of circumstance. Every interaction he has with the Pale King takes place in less than ideal situations, whether he’s possessing Grimm or directly communicating to the Pale King, so the bare minimum of information is communicated. The Nightmare King is also less susceptible to the misinformation situation by comparison to Enkay, given that he is a collection of who-knows-how-many people, whereas Enkay is technically just one (although the line is fairly fogged).

Placing squarely in last, Grimm. Oh dear god, Grimm. To say the least, he is so very unreliable. He has frequently lied in the past, shown when the Pale King and him converse in Chapter 3, and Grimm’s response to hearing that the Pale King hasn’t left his palace for months is, “‘Two *months*?’“ to which the King later responds, “‘…Why is this so surprising to you?’” before Grimm replies with, “‘I suppose it shouldn't. You've always been a homebody…’”. The problem in this comes with the fact that Grimm can apparently remember that the Pale King is a homebody, but later does not recognize the White Lady, Lurien, Monomon, or Herrah. He is therefore completely lying in this statement of recognition, and this is later revealed in Chapter 5. This reveal comes in two parts, the first of which is Enkay stating that Grimm “(…)does not… often converse with his heart.” The second section, which reveals another lie, comes when Grimm states, “I’ve been trying to remember it more clearly. I've been talking with my kin, trying to find answers when I'm not here helping you with every other viable option. How do you expect me to tell you something I don't understand?” As established, Enkay has no reason to lie and Grimm has a history of it, so Enkay’s word therefore overpowers Grimm’s and shows that Grimm is willfully not telling the Pale King that he can communicate with the Nightmare Heart. Lastly, and this is what hammers home the unreliability of Grimm, he has an absolute ton of gaps in memory, as later in Chapter 5 he states, “There have always been blank spots, things that I know but don't know, things that I've never seen before but feel so familiar around.” Alright, so Grimm does not often talk to the Heart, and thereby has limited memories, and due to the Nightmare King’s later suggestion that the Pale King just talk about anything relating to Enkay, including “What happened to him. How you two met. What teas he liked. Anything,” as a method of jogging Grimm’s memory, we can conclude that memorabilia or anything relating to past selves can help jog memory.

So, we’ve established an order of reliability and defined some form of a rule for Grimm’s memory. Now onto the actual questions to be answered. During Chapter 7, the entire situation around Enkay, Grimm, and the Nightmare King goes entirely off the rails when the Pale King bumps into a ghost of Enkay within the Troupe’s grounds; the peculiar part is not that Enkay exists here (it is well established that a ton of ghosts walk around there), but rather that he is described by the following, “The claws twitch, neck audible cracking, but the head stays in place. Black blood oozes from his eyes and from cracks in their throat, splattering on the ground beneath their feet. The figure says nothing, and turns away from him, walking toward the door. The golden chains that had adorned his horns hung broken and loose behind him. A massive, bleeding line traced down his spine.” This is in no capacity what was to be expected, and so the Pale King’s response in thought is, “This wasn’t even close to a proper punishment, and he knew it. This was just a slap on the wrist. There was so much more that could be done to him, especially when he was here, at the center of the Troupe’s grounds, at the mercy of the whims of the Heart. This was only the beginning, he was sure of it, and he had to face it.” An open and shut case as to why Enkay’s corpse looks the way it does, right? I sincerely wish I could agree with you. Unfortunately, in Chapter 6, with regard to the heart, Grimm states, “My powers are stored there, in a sense. The Heart holds everything that makes me the Nightmare King while also keeping separate who I am as Grimm. If that makes any sense. I have access to my powers, but in a limited sense. Imagine… a locked door, with the magic trickling from the crack underneath." Note the wording here, “Stored there.” The implication seems to be that the Heart does not necessarily act on its own. As well as this, if the Heart is acting to torment the Pale King in any way, the Nightmare King would more likely than not act in a similar manner, but he does not. Instead, after the Pale King acquires the Voidheart, the Nightmare King (lot of kings here, huh?) simply cleans the void off of his hands and lets him walk out with it. As a final proof of the Pale King’s idea not being correct, we must acknowledge that he is a second-hand account by comparison to Enkay or the Nightmare King, and so is more prone to misinterpretation. With all that being said, why does Enkay look that way? In all frank honesty, I have no fucking clue. Sorry to leave anybody hanging, but I literally have no idea where I could go from there. On to the next bit then, the whole Grimm situation (a rather grim one indeed). There are three major things to focus on here: the tapestry, the statue, and Enkay’s dialogue. Grimm’s tapestry and statue are described as, “Grimm’s face, on both sides of the statue, one side displaying the same lovely smile he had just seen stretch across his face when holding his Child in his arms, and the other holding a dark, angry glower, an arrogant and vengeful gaze that he can only recall seeing sheer vestiges of within the darkness of his workroom back in the Palace, and the sight of the weapon, the tattered, bloodied glaive still clutched tight in his claws, was enough to make his stomach twist. He takes a step back, before moving to walk around the statue, desperate to see the canvas he knew was there, what it depicted, what it showed. Death. Entire kingdoms on fire, people slaughtered. More of that unforgiving gaze, allowing unchecked chaos to reign wherever he walked. The forms of some past army melted into ghosts and ghoulish performers, a mockery of the arts standing across the hall. A circle hovered above it all, similar to Enkay's, holding the terrifying form of the Shade Lord. The lower two circles held a strange, horned face and the image of the Grimmchild wreathed in flames, eyes filled in with red.” And now for Enkay’s dialogue which, when put together, consists of, “His image... His power…”, “He lies... Difficult to see... Reconstructs past…”, “Quickly. Must show something.”, “The Heart... dislikes disobedience.... To do task... you need something.”, “Ancient artifact... from beginning days. Grimm knows not....The King hoards his treasures.”, “None of us know... how old... Millennia... ages... epochs... Too many to count... Well... only one... knows.”, “Enkay slows to a stop, body glitching again. An average, completely black statue flanked by silver, spike-topped torches stood in front of them, the entire pedestal wreathed in gnarled vines. The figure stood upright, poised with their hands on the pommel of an overturned, rusting sword. Parts of the blade were chipping away, and half of the guard was missing entirely. The tapestry, larger than all the others, depicted only the same silhouette of the statue in front of a massive, stitched together Heart. As they watch, the Heart beats, a dull, resounding pulse that sent waves of heat into the corridor. ‘The First.’ Enkay almost sighs, staring at the statue and tapestry with a look of sad reverence. ‘The Fundament.’”, “The artifact lays in the brambles. Only living hands can touch such a thing.”

Okay, there’s a lot to unpack here, so let’s not throw away the suitcase. Start at the beginning, with the statue and tapestry. Fairly cut and dry, even the Pale King notes that it’s an enraged Grimm just going on a multi-kingdom killing spree on one side, with this more-or-less reformed Grimm on the other. Now the dialogue… dear god the dialogue. First, “His image… His power…” is half simple. “His image…” is just Grimm hiding his past self from the Pale King and thereby protecting his image. “His power…”, however, is nowhere near as easy— not in isolation, at least. However, when joined with the first two pieces of the next one, it becomes much more clear. “His image… His power… He lies… Difficult to see…” Grimm lies about his image and power, portraying himself as different than he is. To what end is unknown, though perhaps it could be out of shame and regret? Or maybe it’s a way of keeping secrets for the sake of enemies underestimating him and Grimm thereby gaining an upper hand? Who knows, maybe he just never goes in there and forgot about it somehow. The goal of his hiding is most probably the former, but there’s no way to be certain. Before we cover the next section chronologically, let’s jump ahead to, “The Heart... dislikes disobedience.... To do task... you need something.”, “Ancient artifact... from beginning days. Grimm knows not....The King hoards his treasures.” This one is easier to break down piece by piece, so let’s do a brief speed run. The Heart disliking disobedience is most likely it being annoyed that Grimm hasn’t taken on more memories yet; “To do task… you need something.” is not in reference to the task of restoring Grimm’s memory, but rather the task of defeating the Radiance; “Ancient artifact... from beginning days.” this is the item that the Pale King needs to complete the task, also known as the Voidheart charm, which originates with the Fundament; and “Grimm knows not....The King hoards his treasures.” this one indicates that Grimm is entirely unaware of the Voidheart charm and that it is somewhat of a close-held secret by the Nightmare King. Alright, that was a lot in a short amount of time, so let’s take a breath and go back to what we didn’t cover now. “Reconstructs past…” This quote, though simple on the surface, is very, very unusual. One’s initial thought might be that Grimm is attempting to reconstruct his past, but there is no evidence for this, as, if he were trying to, a very likely action would be to try to alter the statue or tapestry, and we see no interaction with it. Given that Enkay can enter that area, and later the Nightmare King possessing Grimm, we are left to assume that there’s nothing holding him out by force. Clearly, therefore, he is not reconstructing his past, but rather lying in order to cloak it. So, then, what past is Grimm trying to reconstruct? Let’s run through some options. Firstly, the notion that Grimm is the reason Enkay looks the way he does; there is no logical basis for this assumption, as Grimm is literally guessing when he says, “Hm. I swear, if one of the ancestral spirits grabbed you and I have another haunting on my hands…” so it is unlikely that he knew Enkay was in there at all. However, Enkay’s appearance, notably the line across his neck, could be a sign that it was either Grimm or, more likely, the Pale King shaping the form, given that, while Grimm is explaining the revitalization process, the Pale King says, “..I did not realize such a process could heal a severed head,” during Chapter 3. This lines up with the cracks in Enkay’s throat, though using such as a proof seems like grasping at straws. The third option comes from a quote which was shown earlier, but not in full. In its complete form, originating from Chapter 5, the quote comes as, “’I wasn't always like this,’ he starts, slow, almost uncertain. ‘I wasn't always... trapped in all this... timelessness and renewal business. There have always been blank spots, things that I know but don't know, things that I've never seen before but feel so familiar around.’” In a first time reading, this just seems like Grimm stating that he doesn’t have all the memories, etc. etc. However, note that Grimm was Enkay’s child, as Grimm now has his own. That means that Grimm cannot be referring to himself as the “I” in the “timelessness and renewal business.” Keep in mind that, although Grimm’s memories of past selves are limited, there are still certain bits and pieces, and based on the fact that there’s always a Child for the Nightmare King, we can conclude that the only people who could be described by this “I” are the Nightmare King, the Heart, or the Fundament. Given that the Nightmare King is, to a fair extent, the culmination of past incarnations of Grimm and Enkay, it can be concluded that he has always been in the business of timelessness and renewal. As well as this, due to the fact that the Heart needs to be perpetuated by the ritual, it also needs to be intrinsically tied to the business. That can leave only one, meaning that Grimm is talking about the Fundament. So could this be the past that Grimm is attempting to reconstruct? Perhaps, but not likely, given the fact that Grimm has had an aversion to gaining memories of past selves. On the other hand, we know that Grimm is attempting to remember more about the Void, and is aware that he knows things but is uncertain of what those things are, so he may be trying to reconstruct the past of the Fundament as a method of learning about the Voidheart.

Okay. Wow. That was… a lot. So, where do we go from here? What conclusions or theoretical timeline can we draw? Sorry to disappoint, but I have absolutely zero ideas. Literally nothing. Again, apologies for the anticlimax here, but I incinerated my last two braincells with this one. Nonetheless, though, it was fun to make, and, as always, assume my theories are wrong unless they aren’t. Again, of course, this was an absolute blast to make.

Now to find another mystery or dive deeper into this one so I can keep re-reading.

[lycorogue]

Gabriel Agreste: A 3-Part Character Study

Part 2: My Headcanon for the Life and Thoughts of Gabriel

Hello again. In the first part of this series I explained my thought process as to why I bothered writing this collection of mini-essay/short story. If you missed it, feel free to go back and read that here.

Alternatively, if you want to hop ahead to my re-write of Gabriel Agreste in order to make him a legitimate sympathetic villain, you can find that essay here.

Now, before we continue with this psuedo-story, I want to throw in just a quick reminder-disclaimer. Below is my headcanon on Gabriel Agreste's history, and a sort of personality study under the assumption that he's similar to the man I know IRL and discussed briefly in Part 1. By no means is there any canonical evidence of any of this being accurate. Also, while I'm trying to explain Gabe's behavior and reasoning, by no means am I justifying or condoning it. You may continue to love or hate or love to hate or hate to love Gabriel however you please.

Anyway, check below the break to read my little pseudo-narrative short story on my headcanon history of Gabriel's life prior to us meeting him in the “Miraculous Ladybug” series, as well as my headcanon of his defining personality trait which might explain his behavior towards Adrien, Emilie, Nathalie, and The Gorilla.

Gabriel was a lonely kid. He was an only child. His parents loved him and cared for him, but they never really connected with him. He was never really all that expressive. His parents tried multiple things to bond with him over, but he was most comfortable alone in his room doing his own thing.

At university he remained a loner. He still didn't really make many connections with the other students. He was friendly with his roommate, and was willing to hang out with him and his friends, but none of the friends talked to Gabriel without the roommate there, and Gabe never initiated any interactions with the roommate. Instead, he focused on his artwork and his fashion design.

When Gabriel was about 25 his professor and mentor commented that his designs were uninspired and stale, and wondered what happened. Nothing had happened. Gabriel was just bored with life. His flatmate suggested he try going out into the world, outside his comfort zone, and observe people in order to become re-inspired. Despite himself, Gabriel agreed. He ended up going to the local watering hole by himself, and hid in the corner to try to people watch. Not even twenty minutes into this experiment, Gabriel decided it was a stupid plan and hurried out, only to run into Emilie. Literally.

If you want to read more about how I believe their first interaction went down, you can find it here.

It was an awkward and playful courtship. Outgoing, social butterfly, extroverted Emilie did everything in her power to keep Gabriel on the edge of uncomfortable as a way of broadening his horizon. She took him out to parties, social gatherings, and just public in general. She also allowed him his private time, but tended to make him try new foods, or would hide his favorite colored pencils in order to force him to try different art mediums. He soon discovered that he enjoyed the new medium of digital drawing more than colored pencils, even though he would always love the classic method.

Emilie pushed him, but Gabriel loved that about her. Every time he was down on himself she would pick him up. Every time he wanted to hide and hibernate she would pull him outside. Every time he was so engrossed in his work that he would forget to eat she would drag him to the kitchen to try out a new recipe she found.

Not everything was sunshine and roses though. There were some significant spats between them. With his life experiences, he grew to hate humanity, while she gladly embraced it. She picked on him for “not being nice” while he considered her wildly optimistic and naïve. He was gruff and callous, while she was loving, and strong enough to not put up with his crap. It only kept a couple of months before she could call him out with a glance.

She was so good for him, and he knew it. He appreciated it. And he was amazed that she picked him. He never once took her for granted, nor did he forget that she could have chosen anyone. He knew she had other options, and yet he was the one who lucked out enough to have stolen her heart. He didn't understand her love for him, for he never felt such a strong compassion towards him before. Still, he basked in the warm glow from her, and thanked whatever Greater Power That Be that she was with him.

His hatred for humanity as a whole waned slightly, mostly because Emilie kept showing him the positive. Every time he wanted to scoff, scorn, or dismiss someone he pictured Emilie's disappointed look, and it helped him become better. She became his consciousness. She became his empathy. She became his moral compass and compassion. She made him want to be better; to be the kind man she somehow thought he was.

Simply put: she became his everything. Life no longer was worth living without her. She was his sun and moon. She was his earth and sky. She was his smile and reason. And soon she became his wife.

He was nervous about not giving her the life that she deserved. They were still in a crappy little apartment covered in his drawings and fabric samples. However, Emilie got her start acting in an independent film created by an old school friend: Andre Bourgeois. While on set one day, Andre's fiance Audrey visited and noticed an outfit Emilie was wearing; an outfit Gabriel made her as a birthday gift. Audrey loved it and demanded to know the designer. Emilie excitedly called Gabriel down to the set where he met the upcoming fierce fashion critic. She thought he was the most inspired designer she had ever met, and gushed about him in her latest article in a big-name French fashion magazine.

Gabriel quickly became The Next Big Thing. He got a sense of pride knowing that he could finally provide for his amazing wife, and they enjoyed their time together inside their new mansion. Gabe doted on Emilie, treating her as both an equal and a cherished princess.

It was Emilie who convinced Gabriel to hire an assistant, and she was the one who pointed out the impressive resume of Nathalie Sancoeur. Emilie even listened in on the interview, and instantly loved Nathalie's personality. She figured that Nathalie could be just as good for Gabriel in his professional life as Emilie was in his personal. It didn’t take much for Emilie to convince Gabriel to hire the stoic woman.

Life was great. Gabriel could do the work he had always loved doing, and he could provide for his beloved wife while doing so. Nathalie helping with the day-to-day duties meant Gabe had more time for his wife as well, because what would be the point of all this money if he couldn't spend time with the reason for his waking? They were happy.

Then, when they were in their thirties, Emilie became pregnant. Gabriel didn't know how to respond. He remembered his own parents' failed attempt to bond with him, and he could sense that he'd have the same difficulties. He wasn't a people person. But he could tell how excited Emilie was, and she convinced him that he'd fall in love once he held their child. So he prepared for this new chapter of his life along side his wife.

When Emilie had Adrien she experienced a new level of love. Gabriel, however, did not. He loved Adrien. He truly did. He didn't realize he could care for anyone outside of Emilie, but there was this new and fragile life needing him, and he cared. He knew he would protect this precious little bean with all his might, but he also knew that Emilie is still his number one. She took up too much of his heart. Plus, the two of them created Adrien, while Gabriel and Adrien could never recreate Emilie.

Gabriel felt ashamed at thinking so, but he knew that while Emilie wasn’t replaceable, as long as Gabriel had her, Adrien could be replaced. It would hurt. A new child would never be the same, but at least with Emilie there was hope of returning to this family unit. He could always have another child; he could never have another wife, another love like Emilie.

Life changed more than Gabriel was ready for now that he was a father. More importantly, now that Emilie was a mother. She started pulling away from Gabe. Motherhood became her, and she connected with Adrien in a way Gabriel just couldn’t. Despite himself, Gabe became jealous of his own son. His own precious child. He reminded himself that he loved his son, but in the quiet of his mind he couldn't deny that he also missed the days when it was just him and Emilie.

The trio had family game nights that Gabriel half-heartedly participated in. They had movie nights that consisted of Gabriel working on his tablet or phone until Adrien passed out. Then he'd shift his son on the sofa so that he could have the space to snuggle up to his wife. They had family outings together: Emilie watching Adrien's glee; Gabriel watching Emilie's.

Emilie eventually called Gabriel out on the distance between her boys. Just like when they were dating and she pushed Gabriel to interact with people in order to make friends, she now pushed him to put in more effort to bond with their son. He wanted to. He really did. He wanted to laugh and play with Adrien the way that Emilie did. He wanted Adrien to run to him the way the small boy raced to his mother. More importantly, Gabriel wanted to make Emilie proud of him; to prove that he was the great father she envisioned him to be. So Gabriel started teaching Adrien about hard work, about applying himself, and about fashion.

It worked for a while. Emilie even loved the idea of their gorgeous little Adrien being the face of her husband’s brand. It felt like a great honor and show of love. But soon it just became an obligation, and both men feared breaking the one thing that tied them together. So Gabriel and Adrien begrudgingly continued with the photo shoots and ads. They both knew, however, that the only real glue holding them together was Emilie.

Then, about a year ago, something happened. Emilie is gone. Gabriel couldn’t accept never seeing his sunshine, his purpose for life, anymore, and hid her in the basement. He had no clue how to tell Adrien, and after so many months of hiding Emilie, he can't find a way to let his son now without breaking the boy's heart. Gabriel fears that Adrien knows about his father's jealousy, and would blame him for Emilie. Gabe is already overwhelmed with his own guilt at not being able to protect her. He can’t survive Adrien possibly adding to it. Adrien is his only family now; his only tie to Emilie, the only part of her still warm.

And Adrien looks so much like her. He acts like her too. Gabriel never noticed that before, and it pains him. He can't lose Adrien, he wouldn't be able to survive it. But he also can't bear to be with his son. Adrien is too much of a reminder of Emilie: her grace, her love of life and people, her kindness, her beauty, and her intelligence. Adrien is also too much of a reminder of Gabriel's guilt. Guilt in not keeping Emilie safe. Guilt in hiding her from Adrien, hoping his son would understand once she's with them again. Guilt about being jealous of his son's connection to Emilie, and the attention and part of her heart he took from Gabriel. Guilt about becoming a villain; hoping the ends will eventually justify the means.

He has to get Emilie back, though. There is no other option. He can't be a good human being without her; he doesn't know how. He can't feel compassionate towards others; he only feels hatred, and envy that he can no longer have what everyone else does. No one else's pain could be more than his. The world was simply there to keep him from his life's meaning, and he is determined to get the Ladybug and Cat Miraculouses in order to change that.

Well... that became a lot longer than I originally planned, but I hope it was an interesting character study. Again, I'm not trying to justify or condone Gabriel's behavior; just trying to explain it. Long and short is that I feel Gabriel is at the very least a sociopath, but may be extreme enough to be deemed a psychopath.

Now, granted, I only took two psych classes in college, so I can’t say for sure, but it FEELS like he’s somewhere on the sociopath spectrum. Especially when compared to this quote: 

"The psychopath is callous, yet charming. He or she will con and manipulate others with charisma and intimidation and can effectively mimic feelings to present as "normal" to society. The psychopath is organized in their criminal thinking and behavior, and can maintain good emotional and physical control, displaying little to no emotional or autonomic arousal, even under situations that most would find threatening or horrifying. The psychopath is keenly aware that what he or she is doing is wrong, but does not care.

"Conversely, the sociopath is less organized in his or her demeanor; he or she might be nervous, easily agitated, and quick to display anger. A sociopath is more likely to spontaneously act out in inappropriate ways without thinking through the consequences. Compared to the psychopath, the sociopath will not be able to move through society committing callous crimes as easily, as they can form attachments and often have 'normal temperaments.' . . ."

The quote is from Kelly McAleer, Psy.D, and I found the quote here.

Anyway, there were two more elements of Gabriel’s history that I wanted to put in the above “story,” but I also feel like they would have felt out of place because they didn't specifically showcase Gabriel:

Hiring The Gorilla: I see this happening when Adrien is still about a toddler or so; about age 6 at the latest. The media and crazed fans start becoming too much, and so Gabriel feels the need to hire a bodyguard. Mostly because Emilie refuses to just have Nathalie pick up groceries and the like. She wanted to still go out and experience their city, and take Adrien with, so the couple compromised that she'd have a bodyguard with her. Over the years, though, The Gorilla falls for his charges in a very familial sense. Emilie is like his little sister, and Adrien like his nephew. He loves them and will do anything for them. This love for Adrien is one of the only reasons why he remained in Gabriel's employ after Emilie went missing, especially with the harassment he receives from his employer.  

Adrien's Isolation: In Origins we find out that Adrien has been home schooled his whole life. In Malediktator we find out that not only did Adrien and Chloe use to play together as young kids, but also that she is the only one his age he has ever interacted with. Presumably, he hung out with Chloe because of the proximity to the Grand Paris in relation to the Agreste mansion, as well as the connection between the two families thanks to Emilie. In Mr. Pigeon however, Chloe had to introduce herself to Gabriel and noted that she was the mayor's daughter, not Audrey's. Granted, this is probably because the writers hadn't figured out the familial connection or who Chloe's mother was yet, but in-universe it could be because Chloe only ever saw Nathalie, The Gorilla, and/or Emilie, and she was used to throwing the “my father is the mayor” weight around. Anyway, my point being that Adrien could have been the face of Gabriel's clothing line since he was a toddler, and so his parents feared having a celebrity child in public schooling. The oddity though, was that Adrien's name was on Mrs. Bustier's class roster, Chloe knew he would be in her class, and Adrien attempted to get to the school that first day – as seen in Origins. I don't know if it's different in France, but in America a guardian has to register you for school, which means someone had to register him for Mrs. Bustier's class. Gabriel clearly didn't want him to go, and Nathalie didn't seem to be the type to sign him up behind Gabriel's back. Because of this, I believe Emilie was still around during the summer break between the school years, and had decided that Adrien was ready to get back out into the world and make more friends. She probably signed him up and let him know, explaining that he'd have Chloe in his class so he wouldn't feel alone. Adrien was probably ecstatic about this, and talked to Chloe about it. Then, when Emilie... well, whatever it is that happened to her... Gabriel panicked. He couldn't chance losing Adrien, and so he changed his mind about the public schooling. The decision wasn't made soon enough to cancel the registration with the school though, which is why he was still expected that first day. Nathalie probably convinced Gabriel to let Adrien go by invoking “it's what Emilie wanted.”

Anyway, as I mentioned in Part 1 of this series, I had come up with an alternative way of writing Gabriel's character. One that would make him legitimately a sympathetic villain. One that won't be abusive towards Adrien, at least, intentionally. One that could actually make the eventual battle between the Agreste men even more heart wrenching. A way to write Gabriel that could have added so much depth to the overall drama and dynamic of the show.

If you would like to see my thoughts on this re-write, I'll see you at Part 3 of this series.

[ebenvt]

Introduction to Bacon & the Art of Living

The quest to understand how great bacon is made takes me around the world and through epic adventures. I tell the story by changing the setting from the 2000s to the late 1800s when much of the technology behind bacon curing was unraveled. I weave into the mix beautiful stories of Cape Town and use mostly my family as the other characters besides me and Oscar and Uncle Jeppe from Denmark, a good friend and someone to whom I owe much gratitude! A man who knows bacon! Most other characters have a real basis in history and I describe actual events and personal experiences set in a different historical context.

The cast I use to mould the story into is letters I wrote home during my travels.

Dublin and the Injection of Meat

February 1893

Dear Kids,

When I wrote to you the last time Minette and I were on a steamboat on our way to London. From there we took the train to Calne. John Harris arranged the most amazing welcome for us at his house with many of the staff from C & T Harris in attendance. He suggested that since I have an interest in discovering the origins of meat curing in order to understand how excellent bacon is made, we take a trip to Ireland and visit the University of Dublin.

Photo by National Library of Ireland on The Commons The sailing ship Adolphine moored at the Custom House in Dublin, with a swivel bridge in the foreground. There are posters advertising Pleasure Trips to Lambay Island that also say “William Hall” – hardly the name of the vessel? The two-story building beyond the Custom House is the original Liberty Hall, which I only found out yesterday was formerly the Northumberland Hotel… And this was taken at 9.35 am! Date: Circa 1880? NLI Ref.: STP_2746

That was to us, a most excellent suggestion. In Dublin, we were met by Dr. Stamatis Papaikonomou (1) who lived in Johannesburg for a time. He knows John Harris on account of Dr. Stamatis taking care of a recurring eye infection. Dr. Stamatis very graciously agreed to show me the old medical faculty where there is an old professor teaching physiology who will be able to enlighten us as to the origin of meat injection.

Meat Injection Started in Cadavers

We learned that the practice of injecting meat with brine started as a way to preserve cadavers. That preserving human corpses for medical studies was something that made complete sense to me. Many years ago, as a boy, I read how Von Hombult and Guthrie went from house to house after a particularly heavy thunderstorm buying up the copses of the deceased for their own medical studies. Before the age of refrigeration, preserving human remains in order to study the make-up of the human body would have received considerable attention.

Leonardo Da Vinci

Leonardo da Vince (1452–1519) described a method of preserving the cadavers for his own dissection and study. (Brenner, E.; 2014) The mixture he used consisted of turpentine, camphor (scent masking), oil of lavender (scent masking), vermilion (colouring agent), wine, rosin (a resin used as an adhesive), sodium nitrate, and potassium nitrate. In his mix, for preservation, he relied on sodium and potassium nitrate and turpentine. The man who took front and center stage in the development and spread of the practice was a man we already met with the surname of Morgan.

Morgan’s Patent

It was a certain Mr. Morgan, in England, who invented the technique of injecting a liquid brine into the meat in the first place. The motivation was to increase the rate of curing by getting the brine faster into the meat in order to reduce the time required for processing. In temperatures above 20 deg C, pork spoils in three days.

By injecting a liquid brine into the meat at evenly spaced intervals, the brine diffuse quicker through the meat. Morgan’s interest was the preserving of meat generally but included meat preservation for long sea voyages before the advent of refrigeration and not the curing of meat by farmers.

Edward Smith whos book, Foods, (1873) we read and discussed in great detail in Denmark wrote that “Mr. Morgan devised an ingenious process by which the preserving material, composed of water, saltpeter, and salt, with or without flavouring matter, was distributed throughout the animal, and the tissue permeated and charged. His method was exemplified by him at a meeting of the Society of Arts, on April 13, 1854, when I [Edward] presided.” (Smith, E, 1873: 35)

He describes how an animal is killed in the usual way, the chest opened and a metal pipe connected to the arterial system. Brine was pumped through gravity feed throughout the animal. Approximately 6 gallons were flushed through the system. Pressure was created to ensure that it was flushed into the small capillaries. Smith reported overall good results from the process with a few exceptions. He himself seemed unconvinced.

An article appeared in the Sydney Morning Herald that mentions Dr. Morgan and his arterial injection method. An important observation from the article is the date of 1870. By this date, he is referred to as “Dr. Morgan”, cluing us in about the timeline of Morgan’s life.

A second observation is a drawback of the system. The article states that “salting is the most common and best-known process of preservation (of meat), the principal modern novelty being Dr. Morgan’s plan of injecting the saline solution into the arterial system – the principal objection to which has been that the meat so treated has been over-salted.” (Sydney Morning Herald, 1 March 1870, p 4)

The brine mix that Mr. Morgan suggested was 1 gallon of brine, ¼ to ½ lb. of sugar, ½ oz. of monophosphoric acid, a little spice and sauce to each cwt of meat. (Smith, E, 1873: 36)

Seventeen years after Smith met Morgan at the Society of Arts meeting, in 1871, Yeats reports on a certain “Professor Morgan in Dublin, proposed a method of preservation by injecting into the animal as soon as it is killed, a fluid preparation, consisting, to every hundredweight of meat, of one gallon of brine, half a pound of saltpeter, two pounds of sugar, half an ounce of monophosphoric acid, and a small quantity of spice.” (Yeats, J, 1871: 225)

The plan was widely tested at several factories in South America and by the Admiralty, who had reported that they had good results from the technique. (Yeats, J, 1871: 225, 226) It was in all likelihood the same Morgan that Smith reports on who, by 1871, became a professor in Dublin. One interpretation of the Yeats report is that Morgan, by this time, abandoned his arterial injection method for a more general injection into the muscle. It is more probable that Yeats simply is not concerned with a detailed process description.

Notice, as a matter of interest that he used the same basic brine mix of salt, water, saltpeter, sugar, monophosphoric acid and spices. This, together with the similarity in surname makes it quite certain that Mr. Morgan and Prof. Morgan are the same person. In itself, this is an example of perseverance! In 1854 his arterial injection was met with skepticism where Yeats reports in 1871 that the Admiralty viewed his improved method.

Was this Morgan’s Invention?

The concept of arterial injection was not new. By the time Morgan demonstrated it to the Society of Arts, on April 13, 1854, it may have been as old as 150 years, used for embalming corpses for the purpose of medical studies. This invention is credited by some to the Dutch physician, Frederik Ruysch (1638 – 1730). He injected a preservative chemical solution, liquor balsamicum, into the blood vessels, but his technique was unknown for a long time. (Bremmer, E.; 2014)

British scientists who used arterial injection and from whom Morgan could have learned the system were the Hunter brothers William (1718–1783) and John (1728–1793) and their nephew, Matthew Baillie (1761–1823). The injection was into the femoral arteries. They all injected different oils, mainly oil of turpentine, to which they added Venice turpentine, oil of chamomile, and oil of lavender. Vermillion was used as a dye to create a more life-like skin colour, but would also have added preservation to the final solution. (Bremmer, E.; 2014)

There is a reference from 1837, on an essay delivered on the operation of poisonous agents upon the living body by Mr. John Morgan (1797 – 1847), F.L.S Surgeon to Guy’s Hospital. (1837; Works on Medicine) The same publication contains an article by Dr. Baillie, M.D. on the morbid anatomy of some of the most important parts of the human body. John Morgan was definitely well familiar with arterial injection. Not only due to the fact that he was a contemporary of Baillie, but demonstrator of anatomy at the private school near Guy’s Hospital. (livesonline.rcseng.ac.uk/)

Despite the fact that our professor at the University of Dublin can not locate a single reference, it is very likely that he was the father of Dr. John Morgan (Circa 1863), a professor of anatomy at the University of Dublin. A process of arterial injection is described that was used by Dr. John Morgan from the University of Dublin. ” John Morgan, a professor of anatomy at the University of Dublin in Ireland, formally established two principles for producing the best embalming results: injection of the solution into the largest artery possible and use of pressure to push the solution through the blood vessels. He also was among the first to make use of a preinjection solution as well as a controlled drainage technique. Morgan’s method required that the body be opened so the heart was visible, then an 8-inch pipe was inserted into the left ventricle or aorta. The pipe was connected to yards of tubing ending in a fluid container hung above the corpse. The force of gravity acting on the liquid above the body would exert about 5 pounds of pressure, adequate to the purpose of permeating the body.” (Wohl, V.) This process described here is applied, not to the preservation of animal carcass, but for embalming a human body! It is, however, the exact same process that he demonstrated years earlier in London to Smith at the Society of the Arts meeting on 13 April related to carcass preservation.

From the process description, it is clear that we have finally identified the Morgan, father of the arterial injection method in meat curing as Dr. John Morgan, professor of anatomy at the University of Dublin, son of Dr. John Morgan, Surgeon to Guy’s Hospital. The original inventor of the system was the Dutch physician, Frederik Ruysch and the application was embalming.

With all the information fresh in our memories and my ever-present notebook tucked under my arm, Dr. Stamatis suggested that we go to a pub down the road for a drink. Dr. Stamatis did some reading on the subject before we arrived.

Mr. Davis from Adelaide: The Australian Agent of Dr. Morgan

Dr. Stamatis came across an 1866 article in the Launceston Examiner where it is reported that Mr. Davis, from Adelaide, bought the patent from Dr. Morgan. Mr. Davis took up “premises at Town Marie, on the Bremer River, about six miles from Ipswich” and the operation of curing commenced.

The process is described as follows. Dr. Morgan’s patent consists of emptying and washing out all, even the minutest blood vessels of an animal, while the carcass is still warm, and afterward, filling the same with brine. “This is done in a very simple and expeditious manner, and the meat thus cured is very different indeed in flavour, consistency, and general appearance, from that which has undergone the old and more tedious process of salting.” (Launceston Examiner, Sat 17 Mar 1866, Page 2, CURING MEAT BY DR. MORGANS’ PATENT PROCESS)

The journalist reports that he saw “five beasts killed and cured in about an hour at Mr. Davis’s establishment. Having been despatched in an ordinary way, the animals are laid on their backs, sometimes before they are quite dead, and the flesh having been laid open with a knife on the breast bone, the bone is sawn in two, longitudinally, and forced open with an iron screw until the aperture assumes an oval shape, about twenty inches long by seven or eight wide.

The operator, who is Mr. Davis’s manager, Mr. Bennett (the only person, we believe, in the colony, besides the patentee, who is practically acquainted with the process) then commences his manipulations with the animal’s heart, to which he obtains access by means of the opening we have described. It isn’t impossible to see exactly what Mr. Bennett is doing as his hands are inside the body of the beast and his face is close to the opening. It is understood, of course, that he is making an incision in the great artery of the heart, and fastening, in the hole thus made, the copper nozzle of a long gutta-percha tube (which descends from a bucket suspended from the ridge pole of the roof), containing the wash. Having secured this firmly in the aorta, trying it around the neck with twine so as to prevent any escape, he next makes another opening at a short distance from the first, and turning the stopcock at the end of the gutta-percha tube, the wash, which is a diluted brine, is forced by gravitation into the aorta, driving before it the blood which escapes from the other opening in a rushing stream, rising several feet into the air.

About a minute suffices to drive out all the blood, but the injection is continued some time longer, so as thoroughly to wash out the blood vessels until at last the wash comes away almost in a pure state. The beast is then rolled over so as to allow all the liquor to drain out, the carcass being afterward restored to its previous position. When this has been done, the operator closes the aperture which he had made to enable the blood and wash to escape and having unscrewed the gutta-percha tube, screws on a second precisely similar to the first, but which is attached to the bottom of another bucket which contains the brine.

This brine is composed simply of salt, saltpeter, and sugar but Mr. Davis proposes to add a little spice to the solution, as an experiment, to improve the flavour of the meat. The tube having been fixed, the tap is turned, and the brine is thus forced into the veins and arteries. In order to make quite sure that the liquor has thoroughly permeated every portion of the carcass, a small scratch is made near the end of the tail and a fountain of brine immediately jets out. A scratch on the thick leathery cuticle of the nose is attended with a similar result. (We may mention also that even the hides are thoroughly cured by the one process, and when taken off, the carcasses are immediately stacked. One of the animals, too, that we saw cured was a cow heavy in calf and when the young one was taken out, it was found to be thoroughly impregnated with the brine).

We have eaten the tongue of the beast cured in this manner, and nothing could have been nicer, or more thoroughly preserved; the beef, too, as we know by experience, will bear roasting – an operation which would not add to the succulent of ordinary salt meat. The blend vessels having been thoroughly filled with brine, the carcass is left to soak for half an hour or more. It is then strung up and dealt with in the ordinary manner; the pieces are thrown into brine for a short time, turned over from time to time, and thoroughly examined, and, being found perfectly sweet, are placed in casks ready for shipment.

Mr. Davis has commenced operations at a very unfavourable period of the year, and the only premises which he has been able to obtain are not the most suitable for the purpose. He has had to dress meat with the thermometer at 104° in the curing shed, and it is therefore not surprising that, in one or two exceptional cases, his success should not have been quite perfect. The test to which the meat is subjected, however, is so thorough that there is not the smallest chance of its being shipped in an unsound state. Mr. Davis lately shipped nearly a hundred casks (3041b each) to, Sydney, for transmission to England by the Orwell.

It was stated by a Brisbane contemporary that 2c per pound was expected to be reached in the London market. This is absurd; anything over 6d will pay Mr. Davis well, and 9d or 10d is the outside contemplated. We shall be glad to hear that something like this has been obtained and that this new and valuable industry is, therefore, likely to be established as a permanent addition to the resources and wealth of this town and district.” (Launceston Examiner, Sat 17 Mar 1866, Page 2, CURING MEAT BY DR. MORGANS’ PATENT PROCESS)

An Irish Pig Fair, Street Market, Agriculture, Vintage 1892 Antique Art Print.

Benefits of Arterial Injection

A most interesting coincidence occurred. Minette, Dr. Stamatis and I were still in the pub close to the University when a man, visiting the university from the country of New Zealand commented on our discussion. He first apologised for listening to our conversation and introduced himself as Stuart Merrylees. It turns out that Stuart is also in the pork industry, managing production for the largest Bacon producer in New Zealand. He suggested that he “did some trials called pegging the jugular vein in and the jugular vein out. Once the liquid flows clear, peg the outgoing vein and stop the pump to the ingoing vein and tie it down. One should use about 30L of product to be successful.”

He mentioned that some butchers claim that this operation makes the meat more tender. I wondered what the benefits would be and why the meat will be more tender. A clue to understanding some of the chemistry at work is to remember that manipulation happens while the carcass is still hot. This changes the rules dramatically. Note the actual wording from the journalist, describing the Davis operation, “The animals are laid on their backs, sometimes before they are quite dead.” Why would this make the meat more tender? The one reason would be if there is an absence or resolution of shortening.

1941, Publication of the Morton Salt Company, USA.

There are several techniques to prevent shortening. One notable example presents itself, again from our evening of oyster eating in Stellenbosch. My one Kiwi friend is a keen hunter and in the same discussion as we had about the arterial injection, mentioned how he keeps a deer carcass at chilled temperature and ages it for a set time which he measures by the age-old method of pulling on the tail of the dead animal. If the tail comes loose, he knows it has been long enough. This turns out to be an ancient invention where conditioning and aging are used to prevent cold shortening in New Zealand lamb. “This method calls for holding the carcass in a conditioning-aging room until they have gone into rigor mortis. The temperature and time specifications were developed for the industry with the time-varying with the temperature, that is, longer times were required at lower temperatures. The conditioning and aging will thus prevent cold shortening and the accompanying cold-induced toughness.” (Pearson, A. M.; 1989 : 415) This is however not what happens in arterial injection. It is nevertheless fascinating that the technique for preventing shortening in cold environments and arterial injection was discussed in sequence – both very typical for that part of the world.

Two factors would counteract the onset of shortening namely a higher pH and higher ATP levels. The table salt (NaCl), saltpeter (KNO2) and sugar added by Davis will not have any effect on the pH and will therefore not impact the meat toughness or tenderness. The monophosphoric acid in Morgan’s brine formulation may, however, have the effect of lowering the pH.

In general, the normal pH of the muscle in an animal when alive is 7.0. After rigor, the pH drops to around 5.5. “The increased acidity of post-mortem muscle results from the accumulation of lactic acid, which is formed as glycogen is degraded (anaerobic glycolysis) to produce ATP. Animals that are not handled optimally ante-mortem will likely have faster running muscle biochemistry and a more rapid decline in muscle pH. This change in pH during the conversion of muscle to meat is perhaps the most important event because it affects so many chemical, physical, and sensory traits of meat products.” What you want to prevent is rapidly dropping pH while the meat is still warm. Muscle pH is critically important because both the rate and extent of pH decline greatly affect meat properties. If the pH decline is rapid and reaches 5.5 to 5.8 while the muscle temperature is still high (more than 36 °C), the meat may become PSE.

Using the arterial system, and assuming the water is between 20 and 25 deg C, the fact that water is administered while blood is in the carcass should aid in a cooling down of the carcass, but not to levels that are too low. This should have a positive effect on meat quality.

Let us consider the relationship between the levels of ATP and rigor. Rigor does not occur until approximately one-half of the ATP is depleted. (Pearson, A. M.; 1989 : 410) The arterial injection of brine should have no impact on the formation or depletion rate of ATP. Dr. Francois Melette explains that ATP consumption is at this point only and anaerobic release of energy. The muscle “does not know” that the blood is being drained and it enters an anaerobic metabolism as if the animal is being chased. The anaerobic regeneration of ATP is very ineffective and the glucose molecules are rapidly converted to lactic acid which accumulates in the absence of blood flow. (Private communication with Dr. Melette)

He doubts if the lactic acid that is now being washed through the system will have a material effect on the meat fibers and will in all likelihood have no tenderising effect. The benefit is, according to him, more likely in the rapid decline of pH which will have an impact on micro and extend shelf life. (Private communication with Dr. Melette)

The claim for softer meat remains one that is hard to defend scientifically if one considers it from the vantage point of the action of lactic acid. There is, however, a benefit with ample scientific data to back it up and may result in more tender meat. The answer probably lays in what happens before rigor sets in, before ATP is depleted and before major lactic acid formation. It has to do with the salting of a carcass, immediately after death.

Prerigor salting results in a marked increase in water holding capacity (WHC) of the meat. If nothing else, this system achieves prerigor salting. “Hot salting” yields higher water holding capacity (WHC) and superior fat-binding characteristics in sausages despite the fact that salt increases the rate of ATP breakdown. As we have seen, the more rapid ATP depletion as a result of the salt should induce shortening. The high WHC of hot salted meat is, however, due to the “inhibition of rigor mortis in the fiber fragments resulting due to the combined effect of high pH and salt concentration before the ATP becomes depleted.” Studies have shown that the higher the salt concentration, the higher the WHC, up to a salt concentration of around 1.8%, but higher concentrations seem to have no material improved effect on the emulsion stability. Prerigor salting of meat results in increased solubilisation of the myofibrillar protein, but presulting does not appear to irreversibly protect the protein against loss of solubility. Although prerigor salted meat suffers from loss of myofibrillar protein solubility to the same extent as postrigor salted meat, its high WHC remains unchanged. Salted prerigor meat also maintains a high WHC during freezing and thawing. (Pearson, A. M.; 1989 : 424)

It is then indirect, through the improved WHC of the meat, that the meat is more tender. In the days of Morgan and Davis, the concern was primarily the preservation of the carcass and the meat was probably not immediately worked further.

Artery Pumping by Griffith Research Laboratories, Prague Powder: Its Use in Modern Curing and Processing (Chicago, 1962)

Artery Pumping by Griffith Research Laboratories, Prague Powder: Its Use in Modern Curing and Processing (Chicago, 1962)

Artery Pumping by Griffith Research Laboratories, Prague Powder: Its Use in Modern Curing and Processing (Chicago, 1962)

One more note must be made about pH and micro-control. The fact that a complicated relationship between pH and micro exist has emerged over the past few years and tremendous work has been done showing that different bacteria are able to live across different ranges of the pH spectrum. It seems that the main benefit of the system, improving shelf life is then related to the decline in carcass temperature and the action of saltpeter and salt and the normal course of and benefits of curing. Temperature, pH, sodium chloride, sodium nitrite, phosphates, however, all work together in terms of the efficacy and mechanics of curing and in this relationship, a reduction of meat pH is beneficial, even though in terms of specific microorganisms, the benefit may be questioned.

Here in Dublin, we met amazing new friends. The old professor from the university who shared his information with us. The amazing and insightful Dr. Stamatis and our new friend from New Zealand. Stu extended an invitation for us to visit. He was very excited to introduce us to Simon O’Shea who hunts his own meat and who will tell us much about the treatment of meat while it is freezing cold.  He works for Simon at the bacon plant in Christchurch.

Minette and I can report that we had the most amazing time in Dublin. It will forever be one of the greatest cities on earth! John Harris told me before we left that his company used injection with their dry-cured bacon from 1843.

Combining Injection and Dry-Curing

Some bacon curers use the dry-curing in conjunction with injection. In this case, the meat is injected with approximately 10% saturated brine solution and the injected meat is then treated the usual way in the application of dry-salt-cure. This was the method also used by Harris in the early days.

After it has been dry-cured, the meat is smoked at a temperature of not higher than 38 deg C (100 deg F) in order to prevent nitrate burn which presents itself as green spots that appear on the meat. Care should also be taken if these products are stored to prevent damage from insects such as cheese skippers, mites, red-legged ham beetles, and larder beetles. (Hui, Y. H., 2012: 540)

Barel Pork

The injection was even used in the production of Barel Pork. A 1776 description is given on how barrel pork was produced.

“After the meat has cooled < probably after the hair was removed >, it is cut into 5 lb. pieces which are then rubbed well with fine salt. The pieces are then placed between boards a weight brought to bear upon the upper board so as to squeeze out the blood. Afterward, the pieces are shaken to remove the surplus salt, [and] packed rather tightly in a barrel, which when full is closed. A hole is then drilled into the upper end and brine allowed to fill the barrel at the top, the brine being made of 4 lb. of salt (1.8kg or 10%), 2 lb. of brown sugar (0.9kg or 5%), and 4 gallons of water (15L or 84%) with a touch of salt-petre. When no more brine can enter, the hole is closed. The method of preserving meat not only assures that it keeps longer but also gives it a rather good taste.” (Holland, LZ, 2003: 9, 10) Again, notice the brine make-up of salt, saltpeter, sugar mixed with water. The role of the sugar was to break the hard salt taste.

Barrel pork would remain an important curing method throughout the 1700s and would make a spectacular return almost 100 years later when pressure pumps were introduced to inject the brine into the meat through needles. A plank would be run across the barrel opening. The meat is placed on the plank for injection with between one and three needles. The three needles are fed brine through a hand pump that would pump brine directly from the barrel. The barrel is half-filled with brine. After the meat has been injected, it is pushed off the plank, to fall into the brine which acts as a cover brine. It would remain in the cover brine the prescribed time before it is removed and smoked.

Conclusion About Dr. Morgan and who Invented Meat Injection

Dr. John Morgan from the University of Dublin must rightfully be credited as one of the pioneers of meat injection, as a progression of an original development from the world of mummification, invented by the Dutch physician, Frederik Ruysch. The concept was “in the air,” so to speak and in an 1868 publication, On Food, Letherby says that “saline substances such as saltpeter, acetate of ammonia, sulfite of potash, or soda, muriate of ammonia (sal ammoniac or ammonium chloride), etc., were being injected into fresh meat for the purpose of preservation with several patents pending by Long (1834), Horsley (1847), Murdock (1851) and others. (Letheby, H., 1870)

It fascinates me that Ireland plaid such a pivotal role in pork production! Not only did they advance needle injection – but they also invented the mild cured system, now in use in Denmark and at the factories of C & T Harris. When we return to Calne, I expect that Oscar will be joining us for a visit within days. He sent me a message just before he boarded the ship. I am very excited to see him and show him the Harris operation. I dream of the day when I can take the two of you on a tour of the world to show you the different places I learned and introduce you to the many people who taught me.

Lots of love from Ireland!

Your Dad and Minette

Further Reading

Bacon Curing – a Historical Review

Dr. Morgan’s Arterial Injection: The Australian Connection

(c) eben van tonder

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Notes

(1) Dr. Stamatis Papaikonomou, BOptom (RAU) FOA (SA) CAS DPA TPA (NECO), Reg.Optometrist (HPCSA) Diagnostic Optometry, Assoc. Ophthalmology Society (SA).

He conducts research in Edenburg. Stamatis Papaikonomou is a full practicing member of the Professional Board for Optometry and registered with the Health Professions Council of South Africa (HPCSA). He holds undergraduate qualifications in Medical Technology MT (HPCSA)SCH, a Bachelors Degree in Optometry (RAU), and numerous post-graduate Advanced Studies International Programme (ASIP) Certifications in Vision Science (CAS DPA TPA) from The New England College of Optometry (NECO) Boston Massachusetts, U.S.A. His main field of interest is in Diagnostic Optometry, both adult and pediatric, for which he holds an additional category registration with the HPCSA. He is a Fellow of the Optometric Association SA (FOA), an Associate Member of the Ophthalmological Society SA, a member of the Glaucoma Society SA, and a member of the Medicolegal Society SA. His website is: https://www.eyecarecentre.co.za/johannesburg-specialist-optometrist-stamatis-papaikonomou.php

References

http://livesonline.rcseng.ac.uk/biogs/E000398b.htm

Dr. Morgan’s Arterial Injection: The Australian Connection

Photos

Photos from various sources on the web.

Chapter 09.14 Dublin and the Injection of Meat Introduction to Bacon & the Art of Living The quest to understand how great bacon is made takes me around the world and through epic adventures.

[akutagawaprize]

Youkai AU

After Harry Potter AU, Figure Skating AU and the April Fools Taishou Stray Dogs AU, you might be thinking "Not again" right? Hah, as if i can be stopped!

Now I bring a youkai AU!

Let me be clear that I am no expert when it comes to Japanese mythology; any erroneous information you may read was made for artistic liberty. I did my best to research, but in the end I cannot hide that my biggest influences were Nurarihyon no Mago, Noragami, xxxHolic, and Natsume Yuujinchou. Since I’ve also read Lafcadio Hearn's Kwaidan: Stories and Studies of Strange Things, I may have also included elements that were directly taken from the stories in its pages.

Although the idea’s been stewing at the back of my head since forever, this post was written after being greatly inspired by this upcoming set of buraiha goods (1) (2). Now I'm not sure if they'll be selling other characters fitting in with this theme, but no matter what, I wanted a world where ADA will be mostly humans since major conflicts in these sorts of stories involve clashes between youkai and humans. Although at times, meddlesome gods step in~~

Unlike my other AUs which tried to keep Atsushi as the "hero" of the story, this time the main conflict centers around... Ranpo! Is it surprising? Believe me, even I was amused that this was where the direction went while I was brainstorming. I do think it's fitting though, as ADA was originally formed to give Ranpo a safe space to use his intellect as a means to help investigate criminal activities.

EDIT: Funny because after making this post, BONES posted this.

And with that, the characters!

Dazai Osamu

— A bandaged man traveling across the nation offering his services as an onmyouji. The truth is, he's half-human, half-youkai —the product of a raunchy one-night stand between a drunken Aomori official and a powerful youko on her way to becoming a Tenko. The Inari Kami who were waiting for the entry of another Tenko raged and forcibly took away the kitsune's hoshi no tama (a kitsune’s life force), draining her of her power and eventually her life. Their offspring would soon be raised by Mori, still a minor deity at the time. Despite not being a fullblooded youkai, Dazai can manifest up to 5 tails . He also has white fur, usually associated with a kitsune who achieved 8 to 9 tails. Dazai can not only drive out spirits and spiritual entities, he can also manifest in the dreams of others, take flight, become invisible and create illusions. He can blend in with humans even in daylight, although he cannot possess them. Under Mori he was a scary youkai who inspired awe and respect, but now he's just a freeloader in Ranpo's shrine, spending his days drinking sake and irritating Kunikida. Usually he is in control of his human appearance, but would sometimes expose himself especially when rattled by the presence of dogs.

Oda Sakunosuke — A half-human, half-youkai with doglike features. On certain days, at a certain mountaintop, he would drink sake and enjoy a feast with his good friends Dazai and Ango. Despite being an inugami, Oda never made Dazai feel threatened in his presence. And although not someone of influence or power, he was known throughout the Kansai region for being a kind youkai who wouldn’t senselessly kill even if his father used to be a feared dai-youkai. Oda loved humans and embraced both their good and bad natures, but this love would turn out to be the reason for his demise. He openly opposed children sacrifices, and thus earned the ire of a few gods. Mori, newly appointed as a god of death and disease, told Oda he would spare him his life if he would offer five orphan children to appease the offended gods. Oda refused and was consequently killed. Dazai would later realize that Mori planned everything to please the gods and secure his place.

Sakaguchi Ango — A half-human, half-youkai with raccoon-like features. On certain days, at a certain mountaintop, he would drink sake and enjoy a feast with his good friends Oda and Dazai.  Hailing from Shikoku, he journeyed to the mainland under the orders of a dai-youkai named Taneda. Like Oda, he is considered an oddball because he takes more interest in texts and records left behind by humans. As a bakedanuki, he can perform a heritage technique which stirs up leaves around the area, allowing him to trap opponents within a spiral of leaves. Although Ango himself is not aware of this, his reports to Shikoku allowed Mori the needed information to get rid of Oda. Because of this, his friendship with Dazai soured. Ango was last seen in the capital, accompanying a group of onmyouji.

Edogawa Ranpo — A survivor of the the Great Fire of Meireki. Not only was he left orphaned and without a home, he was also ostracized after revealing it was a well-known monk who accidentally started the fire by cremating an allegedly cursed kimono. He was accused of slander. Chased out by the angry Edo people, he ended up passing out in front of a run-down shrine for a local deity. As Ranpo's parents were the deity's fervent followers, the deity took him in. Bored of the world and wanting to live the rest of his days in peace and solitude, he passed on his divinity to Ranpo. As a new deity, Ranpo has much to learn. Because he is strongwilled and has no filter, he gets in trouble not only with youkai but also with his fellow deities. In addition, his scent is tempting to all sorts of supernatural creatures.Thankfully, he manages to form a household that will defend him and help him become the best deity he can be!

Fukuzawa Yukichi — A ronin who once took part in the Keian Uprising. He is a man concerned not only with the state of disgruntled samurai families he had once wished to champion, but also enlightenment, exercise of liberty, impartial justice, and the overall betterment of people's lives. Living as a ronin, he grew to become more and more jaded through the years. Upon meeting Ranpo and developing fatherly feelings towards this kid he viewed as similar to a newly-hatched duckling, he decided to be his protector, not knowing then that Ranpo was recently made a deity. Fukuzawa has no spiritual awareness, but he possesses a natural barrier that makes youkai and other supernatural creatures wary of him. His sword can cut through demons and even heavenly beings; Fukuzawa was previously unaware of this, saying he just found it at the shrine of the god of felines and fortune.

Nakajima Atsushi — An amnesiac foreign youkai Dazai claimed he found while he was trying to drown himself in the river. He is an interesting case; spirits and demons usually don't stray far away from their land of birth not only because it naturally weakens them, but also because land demons can't cross seas as they will only end up as prey for waiting ayakashi and underwater demons. However, Atsushi's weretiger form is still very much powerful and can rival even the most well-known cat/cat-like youkai of their land. Interested in Atsushi and wanting to raise him into becoming a proper youkai, Dazai decides to make the confused boy his apprentice. Can only transform into a full tiger when the moon's out. His favorite food is the chazuke served by the inn nearest to Ranpo's shrine.

Kunikida Doppo — A scholar deeply indebted to Fukuzawa. Not only is he well-educated, he also trains in martial arts and wants Fukuzawa to be his teacher when it comes to the way of the sword. Ranpo deduces he has talent when it comes to driving out spirits, so he was also forced to diligently train as an onmyouji under Dazai. Kunikida's preferred method of fighting supernatural entities are through the use of ofuda (paper talismans). He can use them for purification and to bind weaker youkai. Usually he carries blank papers and ink with him, which is a hassle but something he’s gotten used to. Though at first he was scared of the unknown, he's starting to become unfazed by all the unbelievable things that usually comes their way. He is friends with a man nicknamed "zashiki warashi" because said friend won't leave his home, as well as an actual zashiki warashi who wants to make him notice her. The one in charge of the household's expenses.

Yosano Akiko —Came from another province and has a somewhat infamous reputation in her hometown for beating up her would-be harassers to the point they had to lock themselves in jail to escape her. Her family are longtime friends of the Edogawas, so she rushed to check up on them as soon as she heard about the great fire in Edo. After learning about Ranpo's fate, she chose to stay and act as a priestess for his shrine. Although Yosano didn't mean for it to happen, she became endowed with mystical healing powers after being possessed by a lake demoness Dazai scorned. After getting used to her newfound ability, she would end up terrorizing the rest of the household by asking sweetly if they wanted to help her practice her healing. (Nobody ever volunteers.)

Tanizaki Junichirou — A cowardly young man who came to Ranpo's shrine asking for him to bless their home since he thinks there are malevolent spirits after his younger sister Naomi. What he doesn't want to admit to himself is that his sister Naomi is the spirit, as she died during the Great Fire of Meireki. Bursting with unusually high spiritual energy, Tanizaki wrecked havoc in his village to the point that Dazai had Atsushi transform to stop him. After accepting the reality of his sister's death and showing remorse for his actions, Tanizaki was ordered by Ranpo to join his household, taking in the roles of being the shrine groundskeeper and the deity's personal errandboy. 

Naomi — A beautiful girl who met an untimely death. Her brother's grief attracted evil forces to his side and almost turned the both of them into vengeful youkai. After her purification she was able to become a roaming spirit. As she is unable to cross to the land of the dead yet, she naturally chose to stick by her brother's side. Everyone can see Naomi but Fukuzawa.

Miyazawa Kenji — A young farmer boy from ◯ mountain. He possesses supernatural strength and an extremely suspect knowledge about youkai and how to ward them off. According to Dazai though, he is 100% human. He came down from ◯ mountain to give offerings to Ranpo's predecessor, but ended up taking residence near Ranpo's shrine to tend to a rice paddy which was the previous home of a hostile youkai. No one dares cross him when he's hungry.

Izumi Kyouka — Her mother was a yuki onna who was killed by a traveling onmyouji from the capital. Ozaki took her in and taught her to be distrustful of humans. Eventually, Kyouka became convinced that embracing her human side would only bring her suffering. After she got separated from Ozaki's demon parade, she got lost and was found by a bunch of bandits. Scared and remembering Ozaki's words, she killed everyone by freezing them to death. News about her spread and she was hunted, eventually being caught by Atsushi. He hid her in Ranpo's household and taught her that not all humans were bad. When Ozaki located her and tried to get her back, Kyouka said she wished to stay in the world of light. Has a black hole for a stomach, increasing Kunikida's worries about their household expenses.

Mori Ougai —  Started out as a minor deity of healing. During the Heian period, he managed to overthrow a major god by gaining a sizable following after saving the life of a man who would later become the head of the influential Minamoto clan. He's now a god of death and disease and is able to freely travel across the land of humans, the dwelling place of the gods, and the underworld. Hundreds of lesser demons are under his command. He took in Dazai some hundred years ago because he thought he could use him to gain access to the Scrolls of Heaven. Over time, he grew to fear that he will suffer the same fate as his predecessor and sought to drive Dazai out.

Elise — She takes on the appearance of a little girl, and is a mysterious being who originated from the West. No one knows how Mori came to be acquainted with her or why he decided to make her his familiar.

Ozaki Kouyou — A descendant of Kiyohime, she blinds men and youkai alike with her resplendent appearance, her ornate robes hiding her golden tail. It must be the curse of their line to fall in love with a human they cannot be with, as Ozaki's lover was killed in battle before they could run away south. Ozaki is one of Mori's more devout followers, and was disappointed when Kyouka chose to stay with Ranpo's household instead of returning back to her. She is in command of over a hundred oni and youkai.

Nakahara Chuuya — A kitsune who is only a few decades older than Dazai. Celebrated as the most beautiful kitsune born in the current millennium, he is fond of using his powers of flight and levitation to show off. Though not mischievous in nature as the other kitsune, sometimes he shapeshifts into either a beautiful man or woman to seduce powerful corrupt figures and punish unfaithful lovers. However, Chuuya is hotheaded and does not think things through, leading to Dazai fooling him into handing over his hoshi no tama. Before giving it back, Dazai extracted a promise from Chuuya that the latter will come to his aid whenever and whereever he called for him. As a result of this, he dreams of killing Dazai so he can finally be free of the promise. Another one of Mori's commanders, but more attached to Ozaki. Sometimes mistaken for a bakaneko.

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke —He was a sickly child whose body was used as a vessel to create an inugami. As such, he was raised in the family's storage room chest together with his sister. However, it turned out the family didn't follow the ritual and messed up, making the siblings unstable and feral. At first, they were only disobedient and would occasionally bite members of the family when hungry. But they turned more violent over the following weeks, with the head of the family deciding to put them down. The mix of hatred, pain and anger wrapped itself around Akutagawa and gave him immense spiritual power, allowing him to control a black beast he named Rashomon. Aktuagawa killed everyone in that family before being found by Dazai, who at that time was still under Mori. As a kitsune naturally hated the presence of dogs, he was extra harsh while training Akutagawa. After Dazai left Mori, Akutagawa rose up the ranks to make a name for himself. Since Akutagawa’s parents sold him and his sister for a bag of silver, he hates humans and thinks their greed knows no bounds.

Gin — Akutagawa's younger sister. She was a healthy child, but offered herself as a vessel because she couldn't stand seeing her brother suffer alone. Thanks to the incomplete ritual, she was left completely mute.

Hirotsu — A karasu tengu who valiantly guards Mori’s main temple. He once served the war god Mori sent to be permanently imprisoned in the underworld.

Higuchi Ichiyou — A miko who helps manage one of Mori's temples. A deep impression was left on her after witnessing Akutagawa make quick work of the demons who wanted to eat her.

Jiido — A fallen samurai who was betrayed by his own master. Because of his prowess in battle, he became an executioner for a circle of gods. Oda freed him from this miserable duty, although at the cost of his own life.

Notes:

— Dazai's backstory mostly takes inspiration from Abe no Seimei's.

— The setting is in Edo, during the Meireki Era. In a youkai AU, most people would want to place characters in the Heian Period, but I wanted this AU to be a little different.

—  "If you eat a god you can possess their divinity" is a famous saying amongst youkai, but this claim has yet to be proven. Gods and deities do smell wonderful for youkai though.

— Since I'm not gonna be writing this story anyway, I imagine Ranpo having to come to terms with the fact that his friends will grow old and eventually die. He'd be left behind again. And he can't do anything about it, as rejecting his divinity means he has to pass it down to someone else. His body has only started accepting the divine energy, so if it's removed before his body can properly adjust, he’d be destroyed from the inside out. Dazai guessed he'd need to wait at least 25 years before he could safely pass his divinity on. And so one of the other sideplots is finding the whereabouts of the local god who came before Ranpo.

—  Mori could have been a demon, but that would be expected so I made him a god. He'd just be as cunning and ruthless, but this time he'll also be more ambitious as he plans to unite Japan's youkai under him without the other gods taking notice. Ranpo's growing following grabs his attention and after learning that Dazai joined Ranpo's household... Well...

—  RIP Oda, but since there's a way to cross to the land of the dead, maybe Dazai can see him again...?

— Notables gods like Amaterasu, Izanagi, Izanami, Susanoo and Tsukuyomi do exist in this AU, but they're unconcerned with the squabbles of everyone else. Gods, humans, demons — it's all the same to beings as powerful as them. They all have access to the Scrolls of Heaven, something which Mori greatly desires.

— ...Akutagawa could have been a kappa.

[mindonfirebooks]

This article originally appeared in Gizmodo, written by Meredith Womer. You can find it here:

In celebration of the release of the truly gorgeous horror film It Follows, we’ve turned our lens onto the great, gorgeous horror movies of the past. Here are 16 utterly gorgeous horror films, and what made each of them so great.

Instead of spouting off what I personally think is the prettiest horror movie to ever spill pink blood on the screen, I reached out to various movie nerds, filmophiles, and io9 staffers, and cribbed the words of a few famous critics — because horror is really at its best when you’re sharing it with others.

Near Dark (1987)

This vampire Western centers around a pack of wild, roaming vampires and the small-town farm boy they’ve recently abducted.

“Despite the fact that the plot sort of implodes in the last 30 minutes, Kathryn Bigelow’s 1987 Near Dark is an otherwise worthy watch. With the help of Tangerine Dream’s brooding score and Adam Greenberg’s big-sky cinematography, Bigelow easily convinces the viewer that nasty stuff lurks in the wide-open spaces of the American West. In this case, an RV full of drifter vampires, which includes a method-acting Lance Henriksen and Bill Paxton as cinema’s finest Nosferatu asshat.” – Cyriaque Lamar Editorial Manager of Cracked.com

The Descent (2005)

The female-led film focuses on a strong pack of spelunkers and adventure junkies, who descend into an unmapped, Appalachian cave only to discover horror. Director Neil Marshall used the space (and sometimes lack thereof) to his advantage, trapping the audience in their own claustrophobic terror. But there’s also no lack of expansive, blood-tinged cave shots that hit you with the type of dread one would face while looking out into hell itself. A beautiful hell.

“The Descent works (and plays) not only with movie imagery, but with the stuff of myth and dreams as well. It evokes hellish visions, from famous paintings (Goya’s Black Paintings, Fuseli’s The Nightmare) to gothic gargoyles and Dore’s engravings for Dante’s Inferno. These almost subliminal references help drive The Descent, and give it a powerful mythic energy. It grasps when and how to draw upon these images to create just the right tone of hallucinatory fear, and set it reverberating in your head. The movie’s not pretentious or derivative, it’s just uncanny about knowing what to borrow and how to use it.” – Roger Ebert

The Fog (1980)

If you haven’t seen this movie, please do so, because even the succinct summary of this bonkers horror movie is wonderful and like no other: “Legend says that Antonio Bay was built in 1880 with blood money obtained from shipwrecked lepers but no one believes it. On the eve of the town’s centennial many plan to attend the celebrations, including the murdered lepers.” The lepers CAME BACK!

“It’s funny; John Carpenter has become a “Master of Horror” mainly through films with claustrophobic elements: people trapped in an Arctic base or an old church, Laurie Strode hiding from Michael Myers in increasingly small spaces, etc. – but one of the most striking shots in his career is also possibly one of his most wide open. It’s from his 1980 cult fave The Fog, and it’s nothing more than a horror-free (and daytime!) shot of Adrienne Barbeau walking down the endless path to the lighthouse where she works, with the sparkling Pacific Ocean filling up his customary widescreen frame. There’s something so gorgeous and yet ominous about the image that it remains one of my favorite moments in the film and his career as a whole; it’s almost worth watching the film for no other reason than to appreciate it.” — Brian Collins BadAss Digest writer, and a horror movie (a day) watcher.

The Hunger (1983)

Catherine Deneuve, David Bowie, and Susan Sarandon are all in a vampire movie — but it’s really so much more than that.

“The opening credits to The Hunger, ostensibly a music video for Bauhaus’ “Bela Lugosi’s Dead,” is the finest thing Tony Scott ever did. (Sorry Maverick and Goose, go peddle your Cold War paranoia elsewhere!) The color saturation, jump cuts and loping, demonic bass against that sprinkling guitar scratch – the kind of music that only got played on the far left of your FM dial – was one hell of a way to start a movie. That this opening scene, which is schizophrenically intercut with the “beginning of the actual movie,” got as much VHS rewind play as the film’s later Deneuve-Sarandon lovemaking says quite a bit.” — Jordan Hoffman, Critic for The Guardian & New York Daily News.

Devil’s Backbone (2001)

Guillermo del Toro sets up a ghost story from the POV of a young boy trapped in a haunted orphanage.

“This is a movie about ghosts, about the things that refuse to get left behind. And director Guillermo del Toro hammers that point home with agiant bomb that sticks in the school’s courtyard — a reminder that death is always present. Plus, it’s spooky as hell.” — Marc BernardinDeputy Editor at Playboy.com

The Strangers (2008)

Possibly one of the greatest “He’s right behind you!” home invasion horror flicks.

“The visual charm of Bryan Bertino’s The Strangers, which boasts a mostly unappealing color palette and a setting so limited as to be choking, is all in the framing, which is impeccable and makes for a series of scenes so well made that they’d make stills suitable for literal framing, as long as you like portraits of murderers and victims adorning your walls, and who am I to judge?The first appearance of the film’s main masked killer was foretold throughout the film’s marketing, appearing in both both posters and trailers, but that doesn’t dilute its terrifying power when it finally happens in the film. Suddenly, a boring suburban tableau is transformed into a crackling scene of powerful, terrible beauty, crisply framed and filled with horrific possibility.” — Kate Erbland Entertainment Journalist

Let The Right One In (2008)

The original, not the remake (which is also quite beautiful in its own right) reworks the classic vampire story with children.

“Let the Right One In makes all other horror movies look like a joke. The constant transgression of hollywood to heavy hand everything made these days just produces an onslaught of mediocre movies. What people forget is that a horror movie is made by showing the audience as little as possible, and the entirety of Let The Right One In is just that. The beginning of the film establishes an older man murdering someone and performing a ritual-like procedure on the dead body when a poodle finds him and begins barking loudly. The whole scene is shot on a long lens in one shot and is blocked like a scene on the stage. It plays out in three colors amidst the snow covered woods. The trees are a light flesh color brown and the ground is white. The actors in the scene are wearing flesh colored clothing, and the dog that enters is a white poodle. The murderer wears a red scarf and the victim bleeds red blood. The scene uses one light to illustrate the location and action occurring. What makes the films amazing is it’s minimal storytelling- but what makes the movie beautiful is it matching minimalism in cinematography.” – Nicholas Stango Associate Master of Video at Gawker Media

Black Narcissus (1947)

” When British filmmaker Michael Powell, who’d trained with Hitchcock, met Hungarian screenwriter Emeric Pressburger, who’d come to London to escape Nazis in Paris, one of cinema’s most enduring collaborations was born. Their 1947 Black Narcissus is a slow-burning, undeniably erotic thriller about nuns in the Himalayas, rendered in Technicolor that contrasts the nuns’ white habits (repression ahoy!) with pops of startling vibrance. The film won Oscars for cinematography and art direction, the merits of which are amply demonstrated in its final scene, a genuinely scary clifftop clash that’s spooky, gorgeously-composed eye candy at its finest.” —Cheryl Eddy, Senior Editor io9

The Cell (2000)

Tarsem Singh’s trip into the mind of a serial killer took the dreamscape to the next level. There’s yet to be a film to top this film’s visual splendor — and flippant disregard for physics, sound, life, and reality because you’re inside someone’s mind. And to top it all off, it’s stunning. Who knew the inside of a character so foul could be so horrifically wonderful? But it is — The Cell catapults the audience inside the mind of a monster… and you kind of want to stay. Especially when the villain descends his massive stairs with a cape (attached to his skin) that also drapes across the walls of his opulent throne room.

Halloween (1978)

“John Carpenter’s 1978 slasher is prototypical, though its aesthetics remain unmatched. In a subgenere known for its crassness, Halloween remains a paragon of taste. Elegant in composition and camerawork, Halloween’s look renders lurid, b-movie material into art. It makes watching senseless murders make sense, starting from its blindsiding first scene, in which we watch young Michael Myers’s first murder through the eye holes of his Halloween mask.” —Rich JuzwiakSenior Writer Gawker

Gozu (2003)

What starts off as a Yakuza hit story turns into something much, much darker.

The aggressor has this ominous, glam kind of androgynous andpowerfully beautiful presence that always kind of stuck with me. Kind of like Gozer in Ghostbusters. – Chris Person Video Production and Video Editor at Gawker Media

Rosemary’s Baby (1968)

“Rosemary’s Baby’s turned-up creep factor is largely due to the way Roman Polanski directed the characters through the apartment, showing how encroaching domesticity can be utterly horrifying. In this scene, Minnie Castavet pays Rosemary Woodhouse a neighborly call, but the way he swept the camera from the peephole-viewinto the home and through the hallway is ominous: she’s complimenting Farrow on her homemaking, but the deeper the duo descends down that hallway (ugh, the HALLWAY), the worse trouble you know she’s in. The butterscotch tones of the shot underscore the beautiful feeling of sunny normalcy, calm before the storm (aka being raped by Satan and conceiving his spawn).” – Julianne Escobedo Shepherd Culture Editor Jezebel

Byzantium (2012)

Two female vampires are on the run from an immortal boys’ club. Together they take refuge in a barren, off-season beach resort town and feed. Neil Jordan’s blue-grey and red hues really brought out Moira Buffini’s words (Buffini adapted her play for the film). The recurrence of these two gorgeous colors not only looks fantastic; it also really helps play into the life-versus-undead-life conflict the two mains are facing, from Saoirse Ronan’s Red Riding Hood look to her blood-streaked face in an elevator. But my favorite spectacle of color hit early in the film when the two women tiptoed through sleeping blue cabbages, trying to find a new place to hide out. It’s just shockingly gorgeous.

Ringu (1998)

Before there was the American Ring, there was Ringu, the tale of the VHS tape that was also a murderer. It was great, and it was scary, and it sparked a whole lot of copycat US films.

“I may be alone (lol rimshot), but I think even the footage of the well by itself in Ringu is rather beautiful. As Sadako emerges from it, it’s almost like a slow, traditional dance and the sound design making it even more like a standalone art piece.” – Katie Hasty Executive Managing Editor of Hitfix

The Shining (1980)

A movie so beautiful, not even Stephen King (the author of the film’s inspiration who famously loathed Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation) could deny its mouth-dropping spectacle of symmetry and color. Quoted in Stanley Kubrick, a Biography (by Vincent LoBrutto) King said:

“There’s a lot to like about it. But it’s a great big beautiful Cadillac with no motor inside. You can sit in it, and you can enjoy the smell of the leather upholstery – the only thing you can’t do is drive it anywhere. So I would do everything different.”

Not necessarily a compliment, but we’ve all seen this film. It’s gorgeous. And not even King could side step that.

Suspiria (1977)

A film so gorgeous, almost every single contributor above asked us, “Is Suspiria taken? I want it… No… Wait, that’s too obvious.” Because yes, Dario Argento’s horror film Suspiria is an absolute masterpiece of color and contrast.

Film Friday Picks This article originally appeared in Gizmodo, written by Meredith Womer. You can find it here…

[frustratedcastingdirector]

This article is a perfect example of the kind of expectations those of us who were blown away by Mark Ruffalo’s performance in “You Can Count on Me” had for him and his career.  Those expectations are still there for many of us, waiting to be fulfilled by directors willing to take a chance on Ruffalo, and willing to push him to his limits. - Jamaica (FrustratedCastingDirector)

Becoming a Thoughtful Woman's Idea of A Leading Man Part 1

By CATHY HORYN NOV. 9, 2003

On a cloudless day between the rains this summer, Mark Ruffalo, the 35-year-old actor, took his John Deere tractor out of the barn and began to clear brush on his 50 acres in Sullivan County, not far from where the Delaware River runs between New York and Pennsylvania. He had on jeans and a faded blue shirt that flapped around his thin torso, and his hair was still damp from a swim in the pond that lies at the foot of a grassy hill and a short walk from his two-story Swiss chalet-style house. A patio umbrella and several weathered lawn chairs were set up along the edge, and there was a dock with a wooden diving board that Ruffalo and his younger brother, Scott, a hairdresser in Beverly Hills, built last summer. When the brothers were growing up in Kenosha, Wis., they built many tree houses in the woods near their family's house -- Scott guesses they built one every 10 feet -- and they called themselves the Foresters. Two years ago, when Mark was recovering from surgery to remove a benign tumor in his brain, and thinking that his film career had ended just as it was taking off with his widely praised performance in ''You Can Count on Me,'' he designed the large sleeping porch at the back of the house. Constructed from hemlock, with open beams, it has double-high screened windows, many comfortable old chairs and beds and a closeness with the outdoors.

As Ruffalo positioned the tractor on the far end of the pond, his wife of four years, Sunrise Coigney, a lithe, attractive French woman in a bikini and a straw hat, sat on a blanket near the dock with their 2-year-old son, Keen. Her father, Joel Coigney, who was visiting from Los Angeles, had spent the morning policing the grounds with a chain saw and now joined Ruffalo on the hill. In a moment of perception that took in their voices, the water and the valley below, you couldn't help thinking that Ruffalo had everything he needed here and that there was no place he'd rather be than here.

It was also the perfect place to observe Mark Ruffalo the actor, for few performers possess their characters with more natural grace. Not only does Ruffalo make it look easy, he also manages to access emotions with a freedom unavailable to many of his better-known contemporaries, making him closer to the older generation of actors -- especially the young Brando -- for whom anger or sexual tension could often be registered with astonishing stillness. That Ruffalo has appeared in only a handful of big-budget films, usually in supporting roles that have limited him to playing the same type of emotionally conflicted men -- and thus kept his real powers under wraps -- has not prevented him from being noticed by first-rate directors like Jane Campion. But after the release of Campion's heated sexual drama, ''In the Cut,'' co-starring Meg Ryan, followed soon by films in which he stars with Jim Carrey and Tom Cruise, Ruffalo is certain to find a wider audience.

''In the Cut'' is based on the novel by Susanna Moore, and despite its problems as a film, Ruffalo, as a New York City homicide detective named Malloy, stands out. On every level his performance is a major turn-on, and maybe because, for the first time, we are seeing him as a man -- without conflicts, without boyish tics. In a bedroom scene early in the movie (slightly altered by the censors from the director's version), Ruffalo takes Ryan's character, Frannie, on such a bend, using every word and orifice available to him, that many female moviegoers will most likely regard their own mates with mild disappointment.

Given Ruffalo's previous screen roles, Campion admits he wasn't an obvious choice to play Malloy, who looks at every woman as a potential score. But, she says, ''the thing that interested me about his character in 'You Can Count on Me' was that he was such a flake-off, a loser, yet he was riveting. You couldn't stop watching him.'' In ''In the Cut,'' which takes its name from street slang for sexual intercourse, his presence is so commanding that it can make you forget the film's flaws, notably its jarring end. ''I think it's incontestable now that he has brought to life a different quality of performance,'' Campion says. ''And not like Pacino, or De Niro or Keitel, who have each opened up a new way to think about performance. Mark is a visionary with his work.''

Ruffalo seems genuinely surprised by her comments when I see him in Sullivan County. By then, we are fairly along in our conversation, so I am used to his way of speaking. He does more than look you in the eye. He quickly establishes intimacy by allowing himself to lower his guard. Many actors will let you know, directly or indirectly, that they have nothing riding on the outcome of a situation. But Ruffalo has no such obstructions. He is lightning present in the conversation. And though he has little in common with the characters he has played, if he is close to one of them, it is Malloy. Like him, Ruffalo doesn't hide his manliness under a bushel.

''I don't know what to say about that, babe,'' he says when I tell him what Campion said. He laughs, and his eyes glow with warmth. ''That's flattering. I mean, what do you say? Thank you, thank you, Jane Campion.''

While Ruffalo readily cites Brando as one of his two greatest influences (the other is Marcello Mastroianni, of whom he says, ''It's the whole package of Marcello -- the great life in an art form''), he seems uncomfortable being compared with a legend. Kenneth Lonergan, who directed Ruffalo in ''You Can Count on Me,'' says he should relax. ''First of all, he looks a teeny bit like Brando,'' Lonergan says. ''And I'm sure he can't mind too much if people compare him to one of the greatest American actors of the last 50 years.'' Ruffalo does bear a resemblance to the young Brando, especially around the mouth, but the real point of reference, Lonergan says, is how specific Ruffalo's performances are and how freely he enters and remains in the moment. ''He's sort of an open channel to his characters,'' he says.

The question is why we haven't seen more of Ruffalo before. He began acting in 1989 in small theater productions in Los Angeles. His parents, a painting contractor and a beautician, had moved Mark and his three siblings (he has two younger sisters) from Kenosha to Virginia Beach, Va., where Mark would become a state wrestling champion in high school, and then to San Diego, where his parents separated. After an aimless period spent mostly surfing, Ruffalo enrolled in the Stella Adler Academy, where Benicio Del Toro was a star pupil. He remembers Del Toro giving a monologue based on the song ''Light My Fire'': ''He was so sexy and had so much charisma, I thought, I'll never be that.''

In those years, Ruffalo says, ''it was all about urban for me.'' He lived in rough neighborhoods like Alvarado and Sixth, in downtown Los Angeles. But as much as he hankered for that kind of experience, and brings a similar instinct to his work, he is no fan of Method. ''Two things have happened to acting in America,'' he says. ''One is that actors think they have to live the character, which is a huge mistake. Because what they do is put the character on top of themselves and thereby kill anything spontaneous. The other is that someone introduced the idea that less is more, so that actors stopped doing anything at all. They just say the words.''

By the mid-90's, Ruffalo had appeared in some 30 plays, earning good notices. But Los Angeles theater, at its best, is not Broadway, or even Off Broadway, as Ruffalo discovered when he arrived in New York for the first time. ''I thought, I'm a swan, not a duck,'' he says. ''What am I doing in Los Angeles? I don't belong there.'' In 1996, after a decade in California, Ruffalo made his New York stage debut in Lonergan's ''This Is Our Youth.'' ''He did one play in New York,'' says his friend the actor Christopher Thornton, ''and it changed his life.'' It wasn't the only change. On a Monday during the play's run, he took his savings, about $10,000, and made a down payment on a house in Sullivan County.

Another explanation for Ruffalo's belated recognition involves the vagaries of Hollywood casting. Ruffalo estimates that before he landed the part of Terry in ''You Can Count on Me,'' opposite Laura Linney, he went on 800 film and television auditions. This is probably not a Hollywood record for rejection, though Ruffalo gives it some comic perspective when I observe that George Clooney remained under the noses of casting directors for years before someone realized what a leading man he was. ''If George Clooney was under their noses, then I was, like, under their knees,'' he says with a laugh. For all his dead-ending, Ruffalo sounds remarkably unembittered when he adds, ''In Hollywood, none of those people can make a decision. They can only say no. I'd go to casting directors, and they'd say, 'You are the best actor of your generation, but -- you just haven't grown into your face yet, your face hasn't grown into your soul.' I had insane things like that said to me all the time. 'You are one of the greatest actors I have ever seen, but -- .' I'd get this great feedback, but I could never get a job.''

Still another explanation is that, in the summer of 2001, as he was finishing ''The Last Castle,'' a prison movie starring Robert Redford, the brain tumor was diagnosed. He underwent a 10-hour operation, complicated by an allergic reaction to the anesthesia, and spent the rest of the year recovering in New York and Sullivan County. His wife, whom he met in 1997 when she was an actress, had just given birth to their son, and as Coigney told me, ''You don't expect a year into a marriage -- through sickness and health -- for sickness to come upon you so quickly. It's been quite a journey.'' He experienced facial paralysis, memory lapses and, perhaps worst of all, a complete loss of confidence. ''I had stopped worrying -- I just believed that my career was over,'' he says. ''No one would take a meeting with me or anything. I was damaged goods, babe. That's what was in the back of my mind, damaged goods. Can't fit the American-male leading hero. A hero does not have a brain tumor.''

It was in this vulnerable, if fully recovered, state that Ruffalo first met Jane Campion in Los Angeles to discuss the part of Detective Malloy.

Anyone who has read Susanna Moore's 1995 novel has no trouble recognizing its difficulties as a movie. For one thing, ''In the Cut'' deals with female grief and loneliness -- specifically, that of a smart, emotionally walled-off writing teacher whose obsession with language serves as a rendering of her engulfed spirit; she's so aware of the shape of her consciousness that she could diagram it like a sentence. And for another, you don't really buy the sexual liaison with the cop, which develops as he investigates a gruesome murder in her neighborhood. As Moore herself says: ''The book is a little cold, a little nasty, a little flippant. It's about language and ideas. And it's not about love. It's about violence. But Jane found a way to make it about love.''

Ruffalo says he had serious doubts going into his meeting with Campion about his ability to play Malloy. ''I had read the script a couple of days before, and I thought, I don't even know where to begin with this guy,'' he says. ''I know he's just a man, he's such a man. But I had never played that kind of guy, and it just terrified me. I thought, I'm the wrong actor for this part.'' Who did he think was right? ''Sean Penn or Russell Crowe -- tough guys, you know. Guys who were really closer to Malloy than me.'' Indeed, as Moore conceived him, Malloy is actually a composite of four or five New York policemen she met while writing her book. She says: ''They were worldly, tough, a little bit over the hill. Much less pure than Mark. They were corrupt emotionally and, in some cases, corrupt professionally.'' In her mind, she saw ''an older Tommy Lee Jones, puffy eyes, a little flabby. Mark was quite an unexpected choice.''

At the end of the three-hour meeting, Campion, who had seen several big-name actors, offered the part to Ruffalo. ''We just clicked,'' he says. ''Jane's ideas about the script were well formed, but she was confident and experienced enough as a director to allow a discussion to take place. A lot of our differences about the character were just semantics.'' Despite his trepidations, he says, ''I had never come to a part so consciously aware of what we were after, down to specifics like what Malloy did when he woke up in the morning.''

One thing that may have allowed Ruffalo to reach Malloy is his penchant for severe self-criticism. Christopher Thornton says: ''He attacks himself harder than anyone. In 'In the Cut,' he used those worries and fears. Everything that Mark was going through I'm sure in some way fueled that performance.'' During rehearsals, when he was still unused to Campion's intensity -- ''She's out there, man,'' he says. ''It's a contained chaos'' -- Ruffalo went home and got drunk. ''Jane and I had some bristling experiences in the beginning,'' he says. ''There's an enormous allowance for people to be wrong in her presence, even her. But the great thing about her is she's not invested with being right.

''So I was wasted drunk, really depressed, and I set up the video camera,'' he continues. ''I was, like, I don't know what I'm doing, I'm totally lost. . . . A couple of days later I was logging something from the tape and I saw it -- I saw Malloy, a shadow of Malloy. My tearing apart and hitting rock bottom was kind of like the birth of him.''

In the genre of police movies, Ruffalo's portrayal of Malloy seems startlingly realistic -- how you imagine detectives to stand and smoke and put their hands in their pockets but rarely do in the movies. There is a scene quite early in the film, when Frannie encounters Malloy and his partner, Rodriguez (Nick Damici), in a bar, that is almost unbearable to watch for its vulgarity. Ruffalo doesn't just talk in the unholy language of cops; he projects the psychological dynamic in keeping emotions at a distance. Campion, ever alert to the tiniest sign of weakness in Malloy, occasionally caught him, he says, reverting to old habits. ''She would say: 'You see that thing you're doing right there? Don't do that in this movie. Don't nod your head. No apologies, Mark. This character does not apologize. Straightforward stillness.' She made me aware of things. Who calls you on your stuff?''

The film's reviews have been mixed (though Ruffalo has been held out as its strongest element), but critics and box-office results aside, no one knows better than Ruffalo what the film -- and Campion -- have done for him. ''What I do in the next 5, 10 years will be mostly based on my choices,'' he told me. ''And it starts now. It wasn't after 'You Can Count on Me.' '' He's at work this fall as an undercover agent in Michael Mann's thriller ''Collateral,'' with Tom Cruise and Jamie Foxx, about a killer who lures a cabby on a shooting spree. Next year, he'll appear in ''Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,'' a comedy written by Charlie Kaufman and starring Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet, in which Ruffalo plays a lab technician operating a memory-erasing machine. ''It was sort of a chance to play light and stupid,'' he says with a laugh, adding, ''Jane'll kill me when she sees it.'' On Campion's advice, he also did John Curran's drama ''We Don't Live Here Anymore,'' with Naomi Watts and Laura Dern, about the divisive nature of marriage. And sometime next spring, he'll direct Thornton in a dark comedy called ''Sympathy for Delicious,'' from a screenplay Thornton wrote, about a self-centered paraplegic who acquires the gift of healing but can't heal himself. ''He basically starts Healapalooza, where he's healing people in the mosh pit,'' Ruffalo says. ''It's kind of an allegory about fame.''

You sense that Ruffalo has used his craft profitably enough over the last decade not to feel he has to make up for lost time. He turned down the role of Brick in the current Broadway revival of ''Cat on a Hot Tin Roof'' in order to return to L.A., where his wife has opened a store with a friend to sell jewelry and decorative objects. And Scott Ruffalo notes with pride and dismay that his movie-star brother still drives around in a white 1974 Volkswagen camper. ''He loves that thing,'' Scott says, adding, ''There's almost this essence of obliviousness going on around him.''

I know what he means. During my visit to Sullivan County, I casually mention that Ruffalo is probably not yet in a position to think about massive fame. He looks at me critically and smiles. ''When will I ever think about that?'' he says. ''What will my thoughts possibly be?''

Still, the rest of us can't help watching. Susanna Moore told me recently that female friends of hers are already having dreams about him. ''Isn't it interesting,'' she muses, ''to be witness to someone who is absolutely on the edge of being hurtled into a greater and, in some ways, less lovely world? He's going to be a very important actor. He's just now tipping into fame and riches and women chasing him. I think he'll be O.K.''

[lonedailydoodle]

Daily Doodle 130/365 - May 10, 2017

Being an adult is hard

Lately has been getting stressful for me, especially today as I thought of some deep stuff.. anyways, onto the day

I slept very well, can’t say I will tonight since it’s 2am and tomorrow I have class, but.. oh well, I play a tired character, it’ll count as method acting since I’ll be legitimately tired. STILL, I woke up to a text from grandma, I had to take her to the city, so I did after a nice omelette that made me reconsider using oil when frying my eggs, I used non-stick canned spray, and even though it’s not the most expired thing I found in the kitchen, it’s still usable. The oldest thing I had found expired in 2014 and was steak sauce.. that non-stick can expired in 2013..

Okay, I took grandma to the city for her to pay some bills and buy some cloths, then we stopped at a Taco Bell where I tried the Meximelt. I said I was gonna try it soon, but not THIS soon. It was great, though it’s kinda obvious the employees on the island don’t know how to make it like it appears in the menu yet since it’s so new, either way, it was delicious~ I also met someone from elementary there, turns out she works there.. wow

Okay, when I got home, I was very busy and stressed. Mostly chatting but also heavily worrying about stuff.. I’m not supposed to be affected by finals, but that lingering fear is still there from my last finals, which was 3 months ago.. which was when I finished university (Recap, I’m taking an acting class as a guinea pig)

But that fear is also there cuz I gotta rush and help one of my friends to finish a project for one of the animation classes, it shouldn’t be my job, but I wanted to do the favor, I’ll hopefully finish during the weekend since I know this stuff.

But at the same time I was stressing over the lingering fear of disappointing someone I’m doing an art trade with, I will finish it but if I’m asked for updates on progress, I feel like I’m not being responsible enough..

Then there’s also commissions, I owe a few and already have the money which I need to use soon.. but I might need more but all this is together and the stress is pretty heavy

I decided to get up and tell mom that I was stressed and a bit overwork, but then she reminded me that I might need to start finding a job too.. so that adds up, but a lot worse.. I know a job is necessary, work is a word I tend to follow.. somewhat loosely but..

I am terrified of retail.. it’s the only thing I can think about right now if I try “looking for a job”.. life’s moving really fast, I seem to get a lot of achievements quickly, but everything else comes just as fast

[rocketfire001]

The Docler

Hello! Here’s another Creek fic for you! Hope you all like it!

After their one-sided tickle fight, Tweek was always a bit more leery of Craig. Sure, they still cuddled, and he hasn't been tickled since, but he was still on guard, just in case. But that's not all that he thought about. Revenge was very tempting. That's what you were supposed to do in tickle fights, right? Tweek knew that Craig was ticklish, but it was a matter of how. Direct attack would most likely end in hiccups. Tweek was too nervous to ask anyone else about the matter, so he turned to the internet for advice. He discovered something that...he didn't expect. He was only looking for a different way to get Craig back, but discovered something else...There was a whole community based around it! He read in awe about all the ins and outs of these people. They even had their own slang and terms! People made characters based around the idea, some people wrote stories, others made art, and some simply talked about it. And there were plenty of different ideas. Tweek read on and on, paying close attention to the words used, the methods used, and the tools involved. The idea that people were so obsessed with such a thing surprised him greatly...but it'd be his secret. He didn't need anybody else to know this information, this was his own info.     Tweek spent the rest of that day grabbing as many tools as possible. He made a list, making sure to take every item he could find. He put them all in a box and hid it in his closet. Now, he needed his own persona. Most people on the internet did, so he wanted one too. He sipped his coffee at his desk, tapping his pencil against his desk.     "Oh, man, why did I do this? So much pressure..." He muttered, almost regretting his decision. Then he pounded his fist on his desk.     "N-No, Tweek! You can do this!" He thought for a while, deciding to turn back to the tickling community for inspiration. At first, there wasn't much luck. Some people had no personas, others were just plain animals or mythical creatures, even hybrids, but nothing he could act out. Then, he finally stumbled across some of the human personas. He looked around for a while, until perking up when reading about a certain doctor type character.     "Oh, man, I can do such a great mad scientist impression!" Tweek smiled softly. He suddenly started cackling to himself, rubbing his hands together.     "HhahahahahahMWAHAHAHAHA!" He laughed in his high pitched voice, his smirk big and evil. He then sat back down on his chair, sketching out a sloppy picture of what he wanted.     "Perfect! Now I just need a lab coat and some fake glasses..." Tweek hopped down from his chair, dashing out of the door. He wasn't sure where he was going to get what he wanted, but he'd get it.     Craig walked down the sidewalk, his hands in his pockets. He pulled his phone out, making sure Tweek hadn't texted back. Apparently, Tweek had gotten something really cool, and was very excited about it. Just the thought made Craig smile. Tweek was always to jittery, it was nice to see his energy was being put to some positive use. Craig knocked on the door, stepping back a few steps. Tweek's mother opened the door with a smile.     "Hello Craig! Tweek has been really excited about you coming over today." She said. Craig walked up the stairs, pushing Tweek's door open.     "Hey Twinkie, i'm here." He announced, pushing the door open. The room was dark, oddly enough. He felt around for the light on the wall, cursing to himself. Suddenly, something wrapped around Craig's mouth. He clawed at the hands, growling curses left and right as they struggled. Finally, something hit the back of his head, and he passed out.     "Ugh..." Craig woke up groggily, his eyes reflexively squinting. A very bright light shown down directly onto his face. Craig tried to cover his face, but his hand was bound to...something. In fact, all of his limbs were, he'd realized. After a few seconds, the light was moved, revealing a figure above him. Craig started to shout, but found that he'd been gagged. This couldn't be right, Tweek would never do this! He growled, trying to demand where his boyfriend was, when the light was suddenly shown on the figure itself. Sure enough, it was Tweek. But he had these sciency glasses on, along with a small, white labcoat that held random items with pockets that were on the side. What was in the slots, Craig couldn't see. But Tweek's face and messy hair was unmistakable. Craig's eyes widened, with confusion more than anything.     Tweek suddenly pulled out a clipboard, tapping a pen on it.     "Yes, yes...Craig...that's you, right?" He scribbled something on the board, smirking.     "Ah, yes...I apologize sir, but we had to take you in for emerganlee assistance, I hope you understand." He explained, though it only confused Craig even more than before.     "As I see it, you've been brought in for an overly sensitive body, correct? You have a record of showing only one, but very severe example of lee behavior, and, as you know, we here must test upon these actions, to have a better understanding."     Craig knew Tweek was a good actor, but, he was doing an oddly good job. Craig hardly recognized his voice. Tweek was handling his shakiness very well, and talking in a very sophisticated voice. But that didn't stop him from being nervous, wondering what the hell Tweek even meant. Tweek grabbed something that was in his coat, feeling of it. It was a small, white feather. It looked like something you'd use to make some sort of craft with. But by now, Craig was starting to catch on. He struggled a bit more, trying to apologize to Tweek through his gag to no avail. Tweek pushed Craig's shirt up, very lightly brushing the feather against Craig's side. Craig instantly started giggling, pulling desperately at his restraints. Tweek chuckled evilly at Craig's attempts to get away.     "Aww, what's this? Mean ole' Craigy is a little ticklish, is he? Let's see how tough you are now!" He teased, flipping the feather over to dig into Craig's belly with the handle part. Craig's laugh got a little louder from behind the gag, struggling a bit more.     "Coochi coochi coo! Who's a sweet, wittle, ticklish boy? I think that's you!" Tweek cooed. Craig couldn't even stand to look at Tweek when he teased. It was so embarrassing to hear that from someone other than his family members, and even then it was horrible. Craig tried to look up, but was instantly met with Tweek's teasing gaze. Tweek scribbled the feather in a few different places around his belly, lightly brushing it back and fourth. This was already too much for Craig to bear. It was like a bug you couldn't swat away, it was torture! Tweek pressed the hard end of the feather between Craig's ribs, which drove him mad with laughter, punching and kicking the air for some sort of freedom, to no avail.     Finally, Tweek let up with the feather, tossing it behind him. Craig breathed as heavily as one could with that gag. He narrowed his eyes at Tweek, who still had that smug look on his face.     "Sir, I am happy to announce that I have decided to remove your gag! But, you have to be quiet. Otherwise, the gag goes back on, along with more...harsh punishment." He chuckled evilly, rubbing his hands together. Craig rolled his eyes but nodded. Tweek carefully untied the cloth from behind Craig's head.     "Tweek, you dirty-"     "Ah ah! Quiet..." Tweek put a finger to his lips. He took out an electric toothbrush from his coat, turning it on.     "Don't make me use this!" Tweek threatened. Craig shut his mouth, and Tweek turned the toothbrush off, setting on his nightstand. He hopped down off the bed, rummaging through his box. He tossed out different feathers, mostly to show off what he had, but then he found what he wanted. In a plastic bag were rings that had extended, sharp nails on the ends. They looked an awful lot like what The Coon used. He took them out and slipped them on, wiggling his fingers in midair.     "Well well, my little guinea pig! Lookie what I get to try out!" Tweek turned, wiggling his fingers to Craig.     "D-Dude, c'mon, I wasn't this mean to you!" Craig whispered, a bit scared Tweek might follow up on his promise. Tweek ignored him, running up and leaping onto the bed. Craig grunted as Tweek straddled his waist, waving his claw rings.     "Ready? Remember, no loud noises!" Tweek reminded, and started up his torture again. First, he started at Craig's armpits, very lightly scratching the skin. Craig did his best to hold in his giggling, but it didn't do very much good. He chuckled, gritting his teeth.     "Be quiet! No noises!" Tweek teased, dragging his nails back down to Craig's ribcage. He scrapped over each rib, spidering them very slowly between each one. This drove Craig INSANE, driving him to uncontrollable laughter.     "Nonono, quiet, Craig!" Craig was trying to keep quiet, he really was. But, now he was getting a little louder, and finally blew it when Tweek reached his bellybutton again. He nearly squealed, which Tweek found very amusing. He laughed for a moment, but it sounded like Tweek, not this crazy doctor person. After he was done with that, he shook his head solemnly.     "I'm afraid we had a deal, Craigy." Tweek said, wrapping the gag back around Craig's mouth. He grabbed the toothbrush and hopped off Craig's torso, walking down to the foot of the bed. Craig gasped to himself, tugging his ankles desperately for an escape. Tweek grabbed one of his feet, tugging off the shoe, then the sock, tossing them both on the floor. He flicked the toothbrush on, very gently placing it on Craig's sole. Craig had no chance at that point. He instantly went into hysterics, laughing very loudly through the cloth. He curled his toes, to try and have some form of protection. Tweek pressed the brush harder, causing more laughter to erupt from Craig, but soon heard what sounded like coughing, an unfortunate sign that it was time to stop. Tweek sighed, disappointed he wasn't able to get as much done as he wanted. But, there would be other appointments, he thought. He walked back up to Craig's face, which was red and tired.     "Thank you for attending! I am The Docler!" Tweek announced. He grabbed all of his tools from the room and put them back in his box, shoving it into the back of the closet. He turned off his beside lamp, turning the overhead light back on. Craig didn't even seem to care much once Tweek untied him. He just laid there for a moment, catching his breath. But, then he glared back over at Tweek, his teeth bared. But Tweek just smirked, waving.     "I'm sorry, but nobody's ever caught the Docler, and DON'T plan to start now. Later!~" And with that, Tweek ran for his life out of the room.     Craig sat up, glaring. He wasn't sure how, but he was going to catch Tweek and put him in his ticklish place. He just needed to learn Tweek's secret...

[echoesfromtheabyss]

tagged by @orangebaccarat

tagging @lightsfadeslowly @kimbergoat @linawoof  (only if you feel like it!)

Rules: some people you would like to know better

Birthday: September 15

Gender:  The short answer: woman.  

Relationship status: married

Zodiac sign: Virgo

Siblings: Sister

Wake up time: 8:00 am - noon, depending on the day/what time I managed to fall asleep

Lemonade or sweet tea: Lemonade

Day or night: both?  night for creativity, day for labor

Coke or pepsi: coffee 

Calls or texts: Text

Met a celebrity?: sat next to the rhythm guitarist of Black Label Society during a flight to Atlanta one time.  I had no clue who he was [I seriously don’t follow celebrities] so when he broke the ice and talked to me I treated him like just anyone else, which seemed to struck a chord with him.  He’d talk about hanging out with Ozzy like it was nothing and I would acknowledge that it is cool but at the same time not make a big deal out of it because, hey, it’s just people.   He was very sweet, and helped me calm down when the plane was landing [hate flying].   Then back in Puerto Rico I met quite a few local celebrities.  I don’t make a big deal out of any of it.  Fame is fleeting and usually problematic anyway.

Smile or eyes: eh?  um... both?  the eyes can smile.  a smile can say a lot about a person, but not as much as the eyes.  

Country or city: Loved living in the city when I did, but I was born in the country and now live in it again so... idk.  adaptive.

Last song I listened to: it was either “Humans are Easy Prey” by Perturbator, or “Through the Valley” by Shawn James.  Last night was a bit floaty so I don’t remember.

Nickname: Wife calls me “Kitty”.  Family calls me “Rafo”.  Sister calls me “Be”.  In games I am either “NovaNihil” or “AmaltheaNox” depending on the game.

Height: 6′1″

Time right now: 11:52 AM on a Sunday morning

Favourite music artist(s): uff that’s tough!  Music is everything, and I listen to so much of it.   Garbage  Nine Inch Nails A Perfect Circle Florence + The Machine  Imogen Heap/Frou Frou Grendel I’m sure later I’ll go “Oh!  I forgot that one!!” but this is the list I’m going with.  No particular order.

Song stuck in your head: Chemicals and Circuitry by Grendel

Last movie watched: Sister Act 2

Last tv show watched: Gilmore Girls

What are you wearing right now: grey super warm hoodie, my “things to not do today: care, listen, pay attention” t-shirt, and fuzzy warm pj pants

When did you create your blog: a year ago I think?  I haven’t been around long

What kind of stuff do you post: I do not have a theme, this is a personal blog.  Cute animals, art - both mine and from others, photography, funny stuffs, sociopolitical outrage stuffs [mainly as a way to spread news, and I do admit sometimes I go overboard with those - I’ve been making it a point to alternate horrid world news with other content to not overload the few followers I have].  I do skirt around fandoms but never really delve deep into it.  Not really out of choice but because my attention span is short and I like to devour media like the ravenous cosmic beast I am.  Overwatch usually makes it on here because some stuff is really funny, cute, and/or touching and I love it, even if I don’t play the game much.   You will also see a lot of metaphorical writings by me, usually of the depressive or angry type.  An old venting habit.   Oh!  And magic stuffs, though that is not as common.  I have my own methods and systems and they don’t usually align with others 100% so I mostly reblog the good general suggestions/insights, and then post my sigils.  Search my #sigil tag to see those.

Do you have any other blogs moved to / saved URL: This is my main blog.  @violet-penumbra is my art blog, @ancora-story is my writing blog [haven’t updated in a while, writers block and all that], and I do have a super secretive hyper-sigil blog I won’t link to here.  

Why did you chose your URL: Vesper Volition is my League of Legends nickname, which I was playing a lot when I made the account. At the time I had many nicknames online, and all of them started with the letter V, so people were starting to call me V [I was also enamored with the name Victoria at the time].  Vesper Volition was made because of the V theme, and my double V logo at the time.  It was also because I am usually more active[volition] during the late afternoon/evening hours [vesper].   

Hogwarts house: I’ve done a ton of the sorting hat tests.  depending on my mood, I am either a Hufflepuff or Slitherin.

Pokemon team: Team Mystic, though I haven’t played Pokemon Go in a long while.  Mainly because I barely leave the house.  

Favorite color: The spectrum between indigo and true purple.  Followed immediately by all shades of magenta.  Then the minor facets: grey, white, black, red, and teal. In clothing I like olive drab green, but that’s a remnant of my father’s venom in me.  Most my clothing is grey, black, and olive green.  

Average hours of sleep: 6-8

Favourite characters: Amalthea, The Nameless/The Ninth, Judel [all mine - hey it wasn’t specified what kind of characters, so I chose my characters]

How many blankets do you sleep with: two and at lest one of our three cats on me

Dream job: art but with money Following: the trail of clues, cracks, and silver trinkets left by my Higher Self inside the shattered remains of what was once a mind, all circling the endless abyss where my soul would reside - if I had one.  

[capstageriverside]

Bits of Guirgis

The following are some selections from articles that help create a picture of Stephen Adly Guirgis as an artist and a person.

To start with, SAG is often noted for being very aware of and concerned about social issues and social responsibility, especially racism. I like this story he tells when asked about the language in another of his plays, Motherfucker with a Hat, and whether he’s concerned that people will object to how “un-PC” it is (emphasis mine):

I know what you’re talking about, and yeah, it is something I care about. I think most artists ACT like we don’t care about that kind of stuff, but the reality is we mostly are in fact very sensitive -- and even over-sensitive-- about what people think. In Motherfucker, yeah, there’s lots of crazy language, some of it is not “PC,” but the way that language is used is, I think, not mean spirited. It’s just how the characters express themselves. And it’s clear the characters in the play are very human & flawed but hopefully they are seen and heard as being relatable to the audience and therefore worthy of our empathy and understanding. Plus, hopefully, these character are also pretty funny. Humor is the great equalizer. It brings us together. So the language - even at its most crass -- it seeks to unify rather than divide. But the “PC thing,” it can be tough. For example, last night I tweeted a NY Times article about Trump wanting to eliminate The National Endowment of the Arts, and I tweeted something with it where I said, basically: “Don’t take the bait, focus on Russia and Tax Returns, this bitch is going to go down in flames.” I called Trump a bitch. A few minutes later, a woman tweeted back and asked me to remove the “sexist language” and that I should know better since I was “an Artist.” And you know what? She was right. I mean personally, I like calling Trump a bitch. I wouldn’t call Kelly Conway a bitch (and maybe my aversion to calling a woman a bitch is actually sexist too). But Trump? Hell yeah. In fact, I often call him “Cheese Doodle Bitch.” But -- I get it. “Bitch” IS sexist. So I deleted the fuckin’ tweet. But that’s in my real life. A play is a different story. In a play, I can say what I want. - the fix, A Conversation with Stephen Adly Guirgis

If you’re curious about how SAG finds the blunt, rambling, often-laced-with-profanity tone that appears in many of his plays, look no further than the man himself! Also interesting in this clip that he thinks of himself as a writer only by force and not so much inclination:

The process of accepting that I was a writer continues to be ongoing, daunting -- and I’m embarrassed to say -- sometimes painful.. Acting is a tremendously difficult thing to do really well, but I find the pursuit and the practice to be thrilling. When I’m acting, I know who I am and I’m okay with it. Writing is more difficult, less thrilling, and way lonelier. And in order for me to write, I find I have to engage in behavior that matches up pretty exactly with the symptoms of major depression. And when that’s happening, I don’t think my brain can tell the difference. And that sucks a lot sometimes. The upside of writing is that it is a tremendous outlet for a barrage of feelings, emotions, struggles, and inner debate, and, when it is rendered well, it can be a worthy form of service and occasionally even a source of fleeting moments of satisfaction and joy... I think my take on the whole writing thing is probably intrinsically tied to my early childhood as a first born son and to my religious upbringing as a Catholic. Jesus Christ and John the Baptist are pretty much the coolest guys in the New Testament: a pair of relentlessly selfless idealists -- one of whom got beheaded, the other merely nailed to a cross to save all of mankind. Tough acts to follow. Not much room for improvement. But spacious accommodation for shame and guilt. Somewhere in my journey, I became aware that I was given some aptitude for writing, so I felt and feel an obligation to use it as well as I can until it goes away. And I always fail. Or think I fail. -  Adam Szymkowicz interview

When did you decide you wanted to be a playwright? I’m not sure that I’m there yet even. I started as an actor, and I’m still an actor. It’s still what makes me most happy. But when I came into Labyrinth, we were encouraged to be multidisciplinary, and someone asked me to write a little one-act. I wrote it, and we put it up and everybody laughed when it was funny and got quiet when it was serious and applauded a lot at the end. Then all my friends were like, you’ve got to keep writing. So initially, playwriting was just a method of creating work for me and my friends, and ever since, I’ve been growing into the actual relationship with what it means to be a writer. It may be what I’m meant to do, but I’ve found my way there more than thinking, I want to write. - American Theatre, The Community of Stephen Adly Guirgis

More on SAG’s interest in how theater builds and affects community:

He also remains dedicated to theatricalizing underrepresented communities onstage.

“At the end of the day, my hope and expectation when I go to the theatre or I’m creating theatre is that I’m going to see myself in the characters, that they’re going to be relatable,” Guirgis said in a recent interview. “I think to some degree, anything that’s relatable becomes more human.”

Your plays are done all over the country and even internationally. What do you want theatres that do your plays to know?

The only thing that I really want or care about is this idea of, I somehow write a play at my kitchen table, and then later people I’ve never met get together in places I’ve never been and have hopefully a good experience together communally, based off the fact that I wrote something at my kitchen table. That gets me going. I’m just happy they’re doing the plays. I remember when I did Our Lady of 121stStreet in Chicago, one guy was like, “In Chicago, there’s a lot of theatre, and so there’s a lot of opportunities. But largely there’s white theatre and there’s a black theatre and a Latin theatre, and they’re all thriving. But you wrote a play that forces those three things to come together so we get an experience that we don’t normally get.” What else is there? A play is not a cure for cancer. The best play in the world is not going to make peace. But it’s going to create a community to perform it, and it’s going to be performed for a community, and when those communities are spicy, when there’s different ingredients in the pot, that to me is the most beautiful thing. - American Theatre, The Community of Stephen Adly Guirgis

And his reflection on the inherently autobiographical nature of good art:

Where do you get your inspiration for your plays? Are they based on personal experience?

Anything that’s any good—whether it’s a play or a movie or a performance or a dance—it’s going to be contained by a lot of autobiography, and it’s just that some pieces employ more metaphor and some pieces can be seen more literally. I wrote a play a few years ago called The Little Flower of East Orange, and it dealt with family. And people saw that play as being overtly autobiographical. And it was interesting because it was, but it wasn’t. I don’t think it was any more autobiographical than anything else I’ve written—just like the employment of metaphor. So if I write a play that takes place in a prison with a serial killer and a bike messenger, which I did years ago [Jesus Hopped the ‘A’ Train], nobody is going to write or say, “Oh, it’s about his blah blah blah.” But it’s coming from here. - American Theatre, The Community of Stephen Adly Guirgis

[ask-de-writer]

DARING DO and the Gryphon’s Quest! : MLP Fan Fiction : Chapter 19 of 19

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DARING DO

and

The Gryphon’s Quest!

Chapter 19

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

and

Carmen Pondiego

Cover art by Wind the Mama Cat

29584 words

© 2016 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Writing begun 03/29/16

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

This is a Fan Fiction based on My Little Pony.  Canterlot, Princess Luna and the name Daring Do are owned by Hasboro Inc.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  

1.) They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact.

2.) They may use the characters  or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works,  cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

3.) All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction are actively encouraged.

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For new readers, this link leads to the beginning of  

Daring Do and the Gryphon’s Quest!

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Chapter 19. Enlightenment

While Friend was tending to her newest “nymphs,” the young Eagles, Daring Do asked, “What was it?  I guess that I was poisoned.”

The nurse, taking advantage of Friend’s slight distraction, started to take Daring Do’s blood pressure and stuck a thermometer in her mouth.  She replied, “It was a whole Hellbore mushroom in the sauce and diced throughout your steak.  They had two of them.  The other was being prepared for the Imperial table.”

Grata, crest set to thanks, carried on, “Luck alone caused a server to be over eager for the credit of destroying the Blasphemer.  If we had all been served at once, as planned, they might have killed much of the rule of the Empire.”

Carmen picked up the story.  “You have chosen well to have Friend as your “hive.”  That is what she means when she calls you Matunen.  I know that you know what it means.”

Daring Do managed a small nod.

“When you fell, Friend was off that nest in an instant.  She wrapped you in a form of magic that none of us, not even Uncle M, have seen.  We know that it stopped your heart beat and breathing.  It was impenetrable as well.

“Friend’s magic that seems so delicate?  It reached out and sealed the whole banquet hall.  One conspirator tried to fly through it.  All that hit the floor was a rain of blood, feathers and shreds of flesh and bone.  No other was stupid enough to try that again!

“She sort of swept the room with it.  All of the conspirators there were wadded up and dumped before the Throne like a pile of rabbit droppings! Krapper was still yelling about Blasphemy.”

Daring Do chuckled. It hurt.  A lot.  It was worth it.  Friend put down the Eagle chick that she was tending and stepped over to lay her horn to Daring Do’s forehead.

Calmly she stated, “Matunen is tired.  She needs more prey.”

The voice of steel called out, “Friend needs more prey!  You five!  Come out for selection!”

General Ironhooves escorted the unlucky five Gryphons into the room.  One whined, “It is bad enough that … that thing is killing us by torture. Why do we have to watch it happen?”

Grata, crest raised in outrage, demanded, “So, it was a matter of celebration to use THE COWARD’S WEAPON of poison against one who was PROVING our Legends but it is not OK to see the consequence of your criminal and cowardly actions?”

As they were speaking, Friend’s delicate seeming magic settled about one of the five.  He gave a despairing squawk as he aged visibly.  Feathers began to loosen and fall out.  His eyes filmed over, going to an opaque pale blue.  He simply withered where he stood, until he could stand no more.  

Friend stepped over to her victim and simply bit into his neck.  There was not much blood.  The Eagles hop-fluttered to his carcass and began to strip what was left of his meat from the bones.  One of the four being made to watch vomited.

Daring Do felt the soft, loving magic that she trusted absolutely settle through her.  As it did, it brought safety, strength and comfort.

Having eaten her fill, Friend returned to her happy preening of Eagle chicks. A hospital aerie orderly came in and cleaned up the remaining mess.  As he carried away the bones and scraps, he commented, “Another one for the midden.”

Daring Do brought something to mind.  “The civil war?  Did we stop it?”

General Ironhooves replied, “Oh, it started while the banquet and Friend’s little round up was going on.  It is down to a few isolated actions in several valleys.  It should be over completely in another few days to a week.

”For a long planned revolt, they were really poorly equipped.”  He cast a glance at Carmen as he went on, “I can’t imagine how they wound up so short of equipment and ammo.”

He grinned hugely.  “Carmen and VILE have the best combination of Intelligence and sabotage that I have ever had the pleasure of having on my side!”

Grata, crest rippling in amusement, added, “VILE sold us a most amazing array of military hardware at very reasonable rates!  At prices like that, one would ALMOST think that they were not acquired honestly!”

Daring Do snickered.  “VILE has never been proved of or caught in any illegal act.  They MUST have been properly obtained.”

There was a small commotion at the door.  Grata told the guards, “That is Marehem.  He is both family and has Imperial clearance.  Let him in.”

The blue changeling with his orange mop of a mane, entered the room.  He made a sideways grin as he handed a check to Carmen.  “Here you are, my Dear.  The last of the settlements.  It seems inconceivable, but Allstable Insurance has some unhappy customers.”

The General raised an eyebrow.  “How so?”

Marehem snorted, “We have been very actively selling insurance on collections of militaria throughout the Empire.  Mostly to First Creationists.

“Recently, they opened up their warehouses and vaults.  Many valuable articles were missing!  Articles like main battle tanks and artillery pieces.

“Careful examination of each case resulted in denial of the claims for methods of loss not covered by the policy.”

Grata, crest dripping sarcasm, asked, “How could that possibly have happened?”

Daring Do managed to point a hoof at Marehem.  “HE wrote the policies!  That is how!” Carmen agreed, “It is indeed how.  Agent payrolls must be met someway.  I was happy to be of assistance in this case.”  She grinned happily, “In the course of evaluating the “collections of militaria”, we found a few other things to acquire!  Our private museum’s collection of Gryphon art and sculpture is much improved!”

She turned to the General. “Your advice on military collectibles has proved invaluable, General. We had not done much in that regard but now have the start to a good collection.  Thank you.”

He tipped his hat.  “It was a pleasure, Ms. Pondiego.”

Daring Do was hit by a question.  “Umm, the war is almost over?  How long was I unconscious?”

The nurse replied, “Define unconscious.  By every test that we know, you were dead for the first week.  We remember the fool that tried to fly through that weak looking magic of Friend’s!

“She was taking three or four prey a day for that week.  She said that you were loving her back properly.  Then you started to breathe and your heart to beat. That was two weeks ago.  We have gone with her assessments ever since!”

Daring Do’s mind was ticking off the time that they had known Friend and helped her with her precious eggs.  “Shouldn’t the eggs have hatched some time ago?” Friend looked up from her chick preening and feeding.  “Friend loved them to wait so that Matunen could watch her nymphs emerge.”

There came a voice from the doorway that could be as loud as a Royal Canterlot Voice or as soft as a dream.  Princess Luna entered the room.

The nurse, showing a typical Gryphon respect for leadership, crest rippling with amusement, commented, “Good thing that we don’t have a Navy!  This much brass could overload and sink any ship!”

Luna turned to Grata and said quietly, “I am glad that you Gryphons can handle such informality.  Our Court …” She shook her head. “Bunch of overstuffed lunks for the most part.  No sense of humor.”

Grata, crest rippling amusement, replied, “You have had thousands of years of practice at being fluffed feathers.  Give us time.  With luck, we will learn to avoid that pitfall by seeing your experience.”

Chuckling, Luna stepped around the hospital nest and smiled at Friend and her nymphs.  She stepped close and nuzzled Friend.  “Thank you, Friend.  You have given me the best gift that I ever got.  These Gryphons that you loved into being are the best thing that ever came of our horrible Nightmare Wars.”

Friend looked up to Princess Luna, tears in her eyes.  “They are good nymphs.”  She suddenly made hardened steel seem soft.  “Some are failed nymphs, good only for prey.  They hurt Matunen. I take them and love their lives to help Matunen.”

Without any disturbance at all, Princess Luna said, “So I have heard. Why did you choose Doctor Do as Matunen?  You know that she can’t give you eggs to tend.”

Friend stared over at Daring Do with love.  “From her first word, Daring Do shared care for Friend.  She shared mind/heart/love without hesitation or fear.  She found out about my eggs.  With many other things important to her, she made my eggs most important.  No better Matunen could be.”

Luna nodded.  “I do see now why you chose her.  If none have told you so, Friend, you are wise.”

Luna turned to Daring Do and offered, “You have our greatest thanks, Doctor Do.  We found your exhibit on the origins of Gryphons at the end of the last Nightmare War in the Royal Museum.  Some, on the acquisitions committee, wanted to remove it until it should be properly cataloged and formally accepted.  I ordered it kept on display without reservation.”

Daring Do glanced a question to Carmen.  Carmen shrugged.  “We know how much of a pain it is to give anything to the Royal Museum.  True that they are far better now that Count Umber is out of the woodwork, but it is still not easy.  It seemed more expeditious to simply install it in its logical place.”

Daring Do grinned at that.  Turning to Luna she said, “I thought that you would like to know that this whole wonderful species came out of that terrible time.  That such goodness and honor arose from that dark part of our past.”

Luna nodded slowly, tears at the corners of her eyes.  “You were so right, Doctor Do.  It really does help.”

Daring Do replied, “I am glad that it does.

“Friend, may I see our nymphs?  Up close, I mean?”

Smiling, Friend brought over one chick at a time, using her egg turning claw as a sort of perch and support.  After holding each chick close for examination, she set it down on Daring Do’s blanket and fetched another.  When the last of the chicks had been transferred, Friend clambered up onto the hospital nest along with them.

She was happily preening the chicks and feeding them.  Daring Do realized that she was feeding them by regurgitating small amounts of food.  And what, or rather who, the food was.

Oddly, it did not bother her at all.  She lay there and thought it over, figuring out that her sharing with Friend had been more complete than she had at first known.  It was actually a comforting idea.

About two weeks later, Daring Do was back in the Royal Banquet Hall.  In a mobility cart.  Friend was pushing her along.  In the cart with her was a collection of eaglets, just starting to fletch out.

After the meal, of which Daring Do could only eat a little, she was wheeled about to a place in front of the display of Gryphon origins.

She began, “As I was about to say, before I was so rudely interrupted …”

–THE END–

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[limejuicer1862]

Wombwell Rainbow Interviews

I am honoured and privileged that the following writers local, national and international have agreed to be interviewed by me. I gave the writers two options: an emailed list of questions or a more fluid interview via messenger.

The usual ground is covered about motivation, daily routines and work ethic, but some surprises too. Some of these poets you may know, others may be new to you. I hope you enjoy the experience as much as I do.

Jeanette Powers

is the founding editor of Stubborn Mule Press and a poet/painter with seven full length poetry books published, along with numerous gallery exhibitions and online journal publishing credits. They also are a founding member of FountainVerse: KC Small Press Poetry Fest, an annual festival celebrating the indie press poetry world and which has featured international and US based presses over three days each October. Powers has been awarded grants for the poetry fest, as well as for the POP POETRY: #12poetsin12months series which featured 36 KC based poets over three years in collaboration with Spartan Press. Their personal work focuses on feelings, avoiding the political and investigating the internal wonderscape of relationships, family and emotions in a way designed to reach beyond identity while staying fiercely personal. Their newest book, “Sparkler Princess vs Suicidal Phoenix” is available through their website at jeanettepowers.com and you can follow Jeanette at @novel_cliche .

https://stubbornmulepress.com/

https://jeanettepowers.com/

The Interview

1. When and why did you start writing poetry?

I started writing very young. I was reading before even kindergarten and have always been a library brat. It just always felt right to be creative. I think all children probably feel this way, or at least do until they get a device in their hand. I didn’t get a phone till I was 32. Why did I start writing? I figured out that in my imagination, I am completely free. There are no hold barred, no limitations. I thrive in environments like that, and have just never stopped writing.

2. Who introduced you to poetry?

Wow, what an amazing question. I guess maybe was my fourth grade teacher, I definitely wrote my first poem in 4th grade. It was about a pegasus that I rode into the moonlight. But I wasn’t taken with poetry until high school when I was reading books from my school library. And I mean I really went through libraries as a kid, but this was the first one where I found the poetry section. I remember finding ee cummings and Sylvia Plath, but the poet that really took my breath away and whose book I stole was James Dickey. I think of that book often still, and here it is again. When I moved to the city after graduating, my education in poetry began in earnest, going to open mics and meeting lots of people who were voracious readers like me. It was a beautiful space in my life to be filled in with the classics and with a lot of the great modern Masters. The last decade though has been much more dedicated to reading living, contemporary poets.

2.1. Why did James Dickey take your breath away?

I suppose he sort of reminded me of my grandfather; the poems make sense, they have a weight of history, they have a certain amount of existential angst without it becoming pained or mewling. There’s also a joy and just a raw humanity. It’s not necessarily the poet that I would pick off my shelf today, but he sure set wheels going in my head.

3. How aware are and were you of the dominating presence of older poets traditional and contemporary?

I guess in some ways I’m not that aware of it then or now. It’s just all about what is relatable or interesting in terms of what I read or collect. I certainly see how, in many ways, older poets have more access to doing poetry because putting books out and touring are both expensive endeavors. I think many of the younger or marginalized poets just don’t have the opportunity to be read and heard due to financial restrictions. Which is why I’m always such a huge fan of the no-fee submissions. Of course it’s difficult for everyone in every way, but I very much feel that if you are going to dedicate yourself to building a press that is inclusive, then not charging fees is essential.

4. What is your daily writing routine?

I have struggled with routines my whole life, always wanting and always being too much of a being made of chaos to make it work. However, what works best most of the time is for me to wake up in the morning and not think of anything else in the world except for my own art, whatever project I’m working on at the time. I can work anywhere from an hour to three or four if I get on a roll. Then I go do my make-money work, read, socialize, drink. Sometimes, though, a project really calls for something special in terms of a routine. For instance, I wrote a novella in 2018 which required me to start writing tipsy and then just get extremely drunk to write. I couldn’t get the rage of the main character any other way. It’s a strange and very intense book. I think of it like character acting. You have to inhabit the space of your novel. Of course, poetry is only inhabiting the space of me, so that is easier to access. And I also love writing alone at bars or coffeeshops. In fact, tomorrow I’m going to a city (three hours from my country home!) just to do that! ha!

5. Method writing! What motivates you to write?

Method writing. Yes. That’s cool. I’m motivated by feelings, the most. I love the idea of the common denominator between people, things that interrupt the binaries of the world, emotion and feeling is a huge one. I’m interested in excavating those deep feelings that mostly go just felt and not put into words. I’m not interested in writing lectures or proselytizing, I’m interested in the dirty, hypocritical, angelic, joyful paradox of self and believe that is what makes us human. I have a natural deep compassion, and what my therapist once described as a penchant for dissociative identity disorder. This makes it easy to write. Also, I’m not afraid of telling the truth of my own stories, in fact, I view my own life as a subject through which I can practice writing. I can see I’m veering between my poetry and my novels a lot here … in some ways they are interchangeable in terms of motivation. I want to recreate a feeling, sometimes the poem is the right vehicle, sometimes a painting, sometimes performance art, sometimes a novel. I do so love when the world of a novel is born in my head, it’s addicting. Of course, you better be addicted because they take so damn long and so much focus to write.

6. What’s your work ethic?

I met a new doctor the other day and after a couple minutes, he looked at me and said “you are very self motivated, aren’t you.” That’s right, I said. I have a mantra, it goes like this: do the job completely with all of your conviction. do not lose focus on the job. do not stop until the job is done. do not stop until the job is right. do not cut a corner. measure twice, cut once. There are many verses to this mantra! I’ve been called the Energizer Bunny, Galadriel’s Light, Perpetual Motion Machine, Force of Nature on the regular, my work ethic is almost a sickness. In fact, being a workaholic is likely a coping mechanism. I’m just lucky I’ve learned to love to fail, that the perfectionist is mostly gone, that the auto-masochist in me retired, and now I mostly work in just a pure state of joy. Creation is the best playground I’ve ever found, you won’t catch me coming in from recess.

7. How do the writers you read when you were young influence you today?

Not much, actually. I’ve always been a forward thinking person, and I’m voracious for what’s new, who’s new, what’s next. I go back and reread very rarely (unless it’s Dune, Neruda, Rilke, Atwood or Szymborska … or the Tao which I read daily). That’s why the indie press circuit fits my character so well, because the writers there are “the little makers of a pre-spice blast” (lol for Dune fans), contemporary writers are on the cusp of the now, their voice is my voice, this experience. It’s intoxicating. Same with painters and music and movies, I want what’s happening this moment (except for Duchamp, who was the greatest artist of all time!). I guess if I really thought about who influences me, it isn’t really another writer at all, it’s the lady pregnant with her fourth kid trying to buy a new car, it’s a tadpole turning into a frog, it’s falling in love, it’s a factory worker in January Toledo who can’t afford to heat his house, it’s how my dog can take so much pain without complaining, it’s how adopted children are really, really wanted. The list goes on and on, other writers, though? Just friends along for the ride, and bless them

7.1. Why go back and reread these authors?

Each of those authors have something distinct that touches me, they each feel like family. I suppose that’s why they stick around. You can’t get rid of family. Neruda for love, Rilke for philosophy, Wislawa for courage, Atwood for bite and range, Dune for religion. And the Tao because it’s the closest to truth I’ve ever found and I’ve searched far and wide. I once even got degrees in physics and math in the pursuit, to no avail.

8. Whom of today’s writers do you admire the most and why?

My favorite working poet is Nadia Wolnisty, she has this capacity of turning a metaphor like no one and also just this clearly raging passion and her performances are stunning. Michelle Q. Smith, is my newest favorite, I ran across her book Ariel in Black and was blown away, she had this way of accessing older works and responding to them which is intoxicating. I also love the former poet laureate, Juan Felipe Herrara, his poems are so alive they are literally dancing off the page. George Wallace has that same power. Mike James and Daniel Crocker, both poets you’ve interviewed are spectacular for their honesty and imagination … and humor. I love humor.

9. What would you say to someone who asked you “How do you become a writer?”

I feel in some ways this is the same question as “how do you become a queer person?” … I just am. Bukowski once said “if it doesn’t come bursting forth, don’t do it.” I would add “find what comes bursting forth for you.” That’s the really difficult thing in the world, finding what you want. Do that, try everything, when it bursts forth, you’ll know that is what you should be doing.

10. Tell me about writing projects you are involved in at the moment.

Thanks so much for taking the time to interview me, Paul! It’s been fun chatting with you. I’m currently working on a screenplay called “Southern White Democrat” which tells the story of a white boy growing up in the Jim Crow south in a wealthy, politically connected family. It’s fascinating and dark. The research exposed so much of the deep trauma of American race relationships that I was unaware of, in fact, that many people are unaware of. It was intense and disappointing and I’m glad to have learned. It makes one want to learn everything, and proves “fake news” has been around a long time. I’m also writing poems as always, but no new plans to put out a book this year. I’ll be touring 2019 on my new and selected from Spartan Press, “Sparkle Princess vs. Suicidal Phoenix”. I’m writing a new novel, my sixth now, and what else … OH. Editing. I need to edit all those novels. It’s way more fun to write them than it is to edit them, ha!

Wombwell Rainbow Interviews: Jeanette Powers Wombwell Rainbow Interviews I am honoured and privileged that the following writers local, national and international have agreed to be interviewed by me.