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firstumcschenectady · 5 months ago

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“God's Subversive Tactics” based on Matthew 5:38-42 (please read!)

The groundbreaking scholarship on this Matthew passage isn't new, it was published in 1992 by Walter Wink in his book “Engaging the Powers: Discernment and Resistance in a World of Domination.” I remember hearing it in High School, I've preached it before – here – and some of you have ridiculously good memories. But also, not all of you have heard me preach it before, and it is SUCH GOOD STUFF and so central to how we understand the entire Jesus movement. So, anyway, if you already know this stuff, prepare for an excellent review. And if you don't, hold on to your pew – this is going to be fun.

Those of us who have heard this passage without Wink's scholarship have probably heard it as an invitation to be doormats, right? “Don't resist. Let someone hit you repeatedly. Be passive. Be... weak.” And, heavens that's concerning, that anyone would teach such things in a church. What a way to empower domestic violence, maintain the status quo, and teach those in positions of less power (women, racial and ethnic minorities, children) that the Godly way is to accept the harm that comes their way.

However, if you accept a perspective that the choices are violence or nonviolence, I can see how you might conclude that following Jesus is NOT a violent way, so you have to pick passivity. BUT, this passage doesn't mean that AT ALL, this passage is about a third way. This is about how to engage in nonviolent resistance to undermine the powers that oppress. This is Jesus speaking to people who lived lives of oppression. This is the way called nonviolent ENGAGEMENT.

It seems especially fitting on this day when we are also thinking about Juneteenth because when we celebrate the freeing of those who had been enslaved, it also makes sense to talk about the ways that people who were enslaved resisted. We sometimes read in history about slave rebellions, but there were lots of ways that people engaged in regular, consistent resistance of the oppressive power of slave holders too. They pretended to be ill. They worked slowly, and badly. They “lost” or “accidentally damaged” equipment. They took what they needed, or just what they wanted. Papers were displaced. Things caught on fire. I suspect a lot of individuals were geniuses at such work, engaging in subversive actions that created immense disruptions without ever seeming to be fault.

Slave holders tried to break the spirits of those they enslaved, but the core human dignity, the reality of imago dei (that we are all made in the image of God – ALL OF US), seems to be quite resilient. And I think that's the core of what Jesus was talking about too.

Let's unpack each of Jesus's suggestions. “Turn the other cheek.” First thing to know – you didn't use your left hand for anything in ancient society because toilet paper wasn't a thing yet and left hands were used for “unclean tasks.” This was a hard and fast rule, even gesturing with the left hand was illegal and carried a strict punishment. So, we are talking only about right hand hits. Which means that a person who is hit on the right cheek has been backhanded, which was ALWAYS AND ONLY diminutive. It was a common and normal way of putting people in their place. “A backhanded slap was the usual way of admonishing inferiors. Masters backhanded slaves, husbands, wives; parents, children; men , women; Romans, Jews.”1 Most people would cower.

One did NOT backhand a peer, it was actually illegal.

But if people can only hit with their right hands, and one has already been backhanded on the RIGHT cheek, then to turn the other cheek – to invite another hit – is NOT to passively accept violence. It is to invite the person who is trying to humiliate you to either back down, or treat you like an equal. “This action robs the oppressor of the power to humiliate. The person who turns the other cheek is saying, in effect, 'Try again, Your first blow has failed to achieve its intended affect. I deny you the power to humiliate me. I am a human being just like you. Your status does not alter that fact. You cannot demean me.'”2

Which, then, puts the one who hit into a conundrum. Which is EXACTLY Jesus's point. (Can you now see how this advice fits the one who also told parables?) “In that world of honor and shame, he has been rendered impotent to instill shame in a subordinate. He has been stripped of his power to dehumanize the other.”3

The second image is to give cloak along with coat, right? We are going to call them the outer-garment and the inner-garment so we can track it. Note that impoverished people only had those two garments, their were not backups. And, Hebrew Scriptures provide for someone to be sued for their outer-garment:

If you lend money to my people, to the poor among you, you shall not deal with them as a creditor; you shall not exact interest from them. If you take your neighbor’s cloak in pawn, you shall restore it before the sun goes down; for it may be your neighbor’s only clothing to use as cover; in what else shall that person sleep? And if your neighbor cries out to me, I will listen, for I am compassionate. - Exodus 22:25-27

Note that even in this passage it is clear that only a poor person would be in this situation, and it is so tenuous that you can't even take the outer-garment consistently, you have to take it for only the day so they can sleep with it at night. It seems, even in this passage, that the creditor is being pretty severely demonized for deciding to demand retribution on the poor, right? (Matthew's language is wrong in implying it is the inner-garment, just ignore that – Luke gets it right, it is the outer-garment.)

Back to Wink, “Indebtedness was endemic in first-century Palestine. Jesus' parables are full of debtors struggling to salvage their lives. Heavy debt was not, however, a natural calamity that had overtaken the incompetent. It was the direct consequence of Roman imperial policy.... By the time of Jesus we see this process already far advanced: large estates owned by absentee landlords, managed by stewards, and worked by tenant farers, day laborers, and slaves. It is no accident that the first act of the Jewish revolutionaries in 66 C.E. Was to burn the Temple treasury, where the records of debts was kept.”4 And Jesus is talking to people at the bottom of this system. “Why then does Jesus counsel them to give over their undergarments as well? This would mean stripping off all their clothing and marching out of court stark naked! Imagine the guffaws that must have evoked. There stands a creditor, covered with shame, the poor debtor's outer garment in one hand, his undergarment in the other. The tables have already been turned on the creditor. The debtor had no hope of winning the case; the law was already entirely in the creditor's favor. But the poor man has transcended this attempt to humiliate him. He has risen above the shame.” You may remember that there was a taboo against nakedness in ancient Judaism, but it turns out the larger taboo was against SEEING someone's nakedness, not being naked.

“Jesus provides here a hint of how to take on the entire system by unmasking its essential cruelty and burlesquing its pretensions to justice. Here is a poor man who will not longer be treated as a sponge to be squeezed dry by the rich. He accepts the laws as they stand, pushes them to absurdity, and reveals them for what they have become. He strips naked, walks out before his fellows, and leaves the creditor, and the whole economic edifice that he represents, stark naked.”5

The third one – the “second mile”. Roman soldiers had the right to require civilians to carry their heavy packs for a mile – a form of forced labor. People hated it. However, if they asked someone to carry it for MORE than a mile, they were subject to discipline, and the discipline could vary immensely, including really severe punishment. So the soldiers regularly demanded their packs be carried a mile, but ONLY a mile. As he has in the two prior examples, Jesus recommends to the disempowered that they reclaim their human dignity even in the midst of oppression.

Wink says, “Imagine the soldier's surprise when, at the next mile maker, he reluctantly reaches to assume his pack, and the civilian says, 'Oh no, let me carry it another mile.' Why would he want to do that? What is he up to? Normally , soldiers have to coerce people to carry their packs, but this Jew does it so cheerfully, and will not stop! Is this provocation? Is he insulting the legionnaire's strength? Being kind? Trying to get him disciplined for seeming to violate the rules of impressment? Will this civilian file a complaint? Create trouble?”6 By messing with the soldiers head, the pack-carrier has taken back their human dignity and reclaimed their own power to choose! Regarding the soldier “If he has enjoyed feeling superior to the vanquished, he will not enjoy it today. Imagine the situation of a Roman infantryman pleading with the Jew to give back his pack!”7

He continues, “Jesus does not encourage Jews to walk a second mile in order to build up merit in heaven, or to exercise a supererogatory piety, or to kill the soldier with kindness. He is helping an oppressed people find a way to protest and neutralize an onerous practice despised throughout the empire.” Now, one final note on these suggestions, all of them. “Such tactics can seldom be repeated. One can imagine that within days after the incidents that Jesus sought to provoke, the Powers That Be would pass new laws: penalties for nakedness in court, flogging for carrying a pack more than a mile! One must be creative, improvising new tactics to keep the opponent of balance. To those whose lifelong pattern has been to cringe before their masters, Jesus offers a way to liberate themselves from servile actions and a servile mentality. And he asserts that they can do this before there is a revolution.8”

That is, Jesus so deeply believed that everyone was created in the image of God and deserved to have utterly wonderful lives, that he took the time to assess the situations and come up with some really subversive answers to the problems people faced, solutions that restored their dignity. There is, you may have noticed, one more piece of advice, and it is one that is a challenge to many of us. “Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you.” Wink says, “Such radical egalitarian sharing would be necessary to rescue impoverished Palestinian peasants from their plight; one need not posit an imminent end of history as the cause for such astonishing generosity. And yet none of this is new; Jesus is merely issuing a prophetic summons to Israel to observe the commandments pertaining to the sabbatical year enshrined in Torah, adapted to a new situation.” That is, for those who were poor to break out of the realities of staggering interest and taxes, they need to work together and not apart. They needed to overcome the stragety of divide and conquer with radical sharing.

In each of these recommendations in this tiny little piece of the gospel, Jesus recommends third ways. Neither passively accepting the oppression that dehumanizes the people nor fighting violence with violence. He recommends, wit, humor, solidarity, and making visible the problems that the system created. We don't face exactly the same issues, but the SPIRIT of these commandments are a gift to us as a playbook for how to deal with oppression. Violence begets violence. Passivity in the face of violence changes nothing. But there are third ways, and I will say that I think God is really in favor of third ways and I've noticed that when I am stuck between two unacceptable options, and sit with them (and with God), God often nudges me toward a third way – a far more creative one that I could find on my own.

God calls the world from violence and oppression to peace and the radically embraced humanity of all. And the way from here to there, it turns out, involves creativity, wit, and humor. Let's go! Amen

1 Walter Wink, Engaging the Powers; Discernment and Resistance in a World of Domination (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1992) p. 176.

2 176.

3 176-7.

4 178.

5 179.

6 182.

7 182.

8 182-3.

Rev. Sara E. Baron First United Methodist Church of Schenectady 603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305 Pronouns: she/her/hers http://fumcschenectady.org/ https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

June 30, 2024

#thinking church #progressive christianity #Walter Wink #fumc schenectady #schenectady #umc #first umc schenectady #rev sara e baron

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elysianeditors · 6 months ago

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The Importance of Book Formatting: A Guide for New Writers and Authors

As a new writer or author, you've worked tirelessly to create your manuscript, pouring your heart and soul into every word. But before you publish, there's a crucial step that can make all the difference in the world: book formatting.

Book formatting is the process of preparing your manuscript for publication, transforming it into a professionally designed and visually appealing book that readers will love. In this blog, we'll explore the importance of book formatting, share valuable tips, and introduce you to essential tools to help you create a stunning book that stands out in a crowded market.

Why Book Formatting Matters?

Book formatting is not just about making your book look pretty; it's about creating a reading experience that's engaging, comfortable, and enjoyable. A well-formatted book can:

Enhance readability and overall reading experience

Create a professional and polished appearance

Help your book stand out in a crowded market

Show respect for your readers and your work

Book Formatting Basics

Before we dive into the tips and tools, let's cover the basics:

Font and size: Choose a clear, legible font (e.g., Garamond, Times New Roman) in size 12 or 14 points.

Line spacing: Use 1.5 or double spacing for easy reading.

Margins: Set margins to 0.5-1 inch on all sides (top, bottom, left, and right).

Indentation: Use a 0.5-inch indentation for the first line of each paragraph.

Headers and footers: Add page numbers, title, and author name (if desired).

Book Formatting Tips

Now that we've covered the basics, here are some valuable tips to help you create a professionally formatted book:

Consistency is key: Maintain a consistent format throughout your book.

Use styles: Apply built-in styles (e.g., Heading 1, Body Text) to simplify formatting.

Images and graphics: Use high-resolution images and format them to fit your book's design.

Proofread and edit: Ensure your manuscript is error-free and polished.

Book Formatting Tools

Here are some essential tools to help you format your book like a pro:

Microsoft Word: A popular choice for book formatting, with built-in styles and tools.

Adobe InDesign: A professional design and layout tool for advanced formatting.

Vellum: A formatting tool specifically designed for ebooks.

Atticus: A formatting and design tool for print and digital books.

Conclusion

Book formatting is a crucial step in the publishing process that can make all the difference in the world. By following this guide, you'll be well on your way to creating a professionally formatted book that showcases your writing and respects your readers. Remember, consistency, clarity, and attention to detail are key to a beautifully formatted book. Happy writing and formatting!

Additional Resources

Book formatting templates: Find pre-designed templates online or in word processing software.

Formatting guides: Refer to guides like the Chicago Manual of Style or the AP Stylebook.

Online communities: Join writing forums and groups for support and advice.

By investing time and effort into book formatting, you'll create a book that's not only beautifully designed but also engaging, readable, and professional. So, don't neglect this crucial step – format your book with care, and get ready to share your writing with the world!

#book formatting

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jdgo51 · 9 months ago

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FEBRUARY 28, 2024

God Hears Our Cries Cindy Lee (England, United Kingdom)

"The Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans." - Romans 8:26 (NIV)

"'My heart hammered in my chest and turmoil swirled inside me because my father was in the hospital. However, attending a prayer gathering at my church with Christians from a variety of denominations and being surrounded by believers and God’s loving presence was comforting. All of us were at different stages in our personal journeys with Jesus, but we all had hope and faith. I found the readings, thoughts, and messages inspiring, even though there was a knot of worry inside me. When it was time to offer prayer requests, I desperately wanted to ask for a blessing for my dad; but if I were to speak, I knew my sadness would overcome me. I felt powerless and voiceless.

One of the parishioners who knew of my situation smiled at me, then stood up and prayed, “We ask God to protect the sick and hospitalized who are suffering and need healing — and we ask God to help those who are caring for them.” Tears filled my eyes. Overcome with gratitude, I felt peace filling my soul. My loving heavenly Father had heard my cry and allowed someone else to give voice to my need."' You can pray your own prayers, but if there is an issue someone else can voice it on your behalf. God hears every single prayer and knows the situation if its being voiced by someone other than the petitioner praying. God ahead, Pray!

TODAY'S PRAYER

"Loving Father, thank you for listening to us and surrounding us with your love." Amen.

Romans 8:22-30

"22 We know that the whole creation is groaning together and suffering labor pains up until now. 23 And it’s not only the creation. We ourselves who have the Spirit as the first crop of the harvest also groan inside as we wait to be adopted and for our bodies to be set free. 24 We were saved in hope. If we see what we hope for, that isn’t hope. Who hopes for what they already see? 25 But if we hope for what we don’t see, we wait for it with patience. 26 In the same way, the Spirit comes to help our weakness. We don’t know what we should pray, but the Spirit himself pleads our case with unexpressed groans. 27 The one who searches hearts knows how the Spirit thinks, because he pleads for the saints, consistent with God’s will. 28 We know that God works all things together for good for the ones who love God, for those who are called according to his purpose. 29 We know this because God knew them in advance, and he decided in advance that they would be conformed to the image of his Son. That way his Son would be the first of many brothers and sisters. 30 Those who God decided in advance would be conformed to his Son, he also called. Those whom he called, he also made righteous. Those whom he made righteous, he also glorified." Many were conformed to God's image and God went on to make them righteous and glorified. Blessings are for you in abundance. Joe

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fireflies-with-pencils · 1 year ago

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Today I was tasked with editing some text based arrangements in order to make them more legible and appealing. I started off with an excerpt from a Sherlock Holmes novel. When I received this assignment I immediately noticed that the texture on the background would make any text harder to read. I asked my superior about it and they said the background absolutely must stay. Additionally, I was not allowed to change the color of the text. This made it rather challenging to differentiate the text from the speckled paper.

After all my limitations were established I began working on the body text. Since the body text was the biggest aspect of the graphic, I thought if I got that right, everything else would fall into place. I knew I wanted a sans serif font, this would make the text more readable. After picking one I also made the text slightly bigger. The dark specs on the page were especially noticeable when the text was smaller, making some letters look off compared to others. I also moved the text accordingly, making as few intersections as possible. Lastly for the body text, I indented the paragraphs, allowing for more separation and visibility.

After dealing with the body text, I moved on to the details. I ordered the book title, book part and chapter largest to smallest at the top of the page, using the same sans serif font I used for the body. I kept the source font as Times New Roman. This helped differentiate it as less vital than the main text.

The next piece I had to work on was an art nouveau article. The text was small and disconnected from their images. The text was also in Times New Roman, which certainly has a place in college research papers but not quite in this particular article. Once again I opted for a sans serif font for legibility and cohesion. Even though I was allowed to change text colors for this article, I decided against it for two reasons; one being that I was not allowed to change the background color. I find using colored text on a white background is too risky, the colors can easily be too light and/or too bright and can cause eyestrain. The second reason is consistency. Since this is an article that will be presented on a computer screen, the article would immediately be compared to all other online articles. To fit this mold, I wanted to keep the standard white background and black text.

Now it was time to arrange my composition. I had two images to work with, both with corresponding blurbs of text. I knew I did not want to change the size of the images, I felt making it bigger wasted space and making it smaller made the images harder to decipher. I put the images in opposite corners to keep my composition balanced. Next I made a shape in illustrator that went around the first image and put text inside of it. This made for an effective use of space and felt more dynamic than a square of text.

The next project was the most involved but also the most fun. I was told to create a wedding invitation almost entirely from scratch. All I was given was the text that had to be on the card. My superior told me to find all the assets myself and make a compelling layout. This proved challenging because I had almost nothing to work with. So I looked up example wedding invitations, almost all of which involved flowers in some way.

While looking for images to use, I found a free png of pink and blue flowers on pngtree.com. They were angled in such a way that I could put them in the corners of my design perfectly. I then used these flower decals as a reference to form my color palette.

Next I began working on my text. The type was, again, given to me in Times New Roman. Since many of the reference invitations had a flowy script font, that is what I chose for my design. I also wanted the letters to be big in this font, as I wanted to use this for the bride and groom's names. For the rest of the supplementary information, I went with a thinner, serif font. I wanted to keep the invite delicate and soft looking. However, I think the light pink may be hard to read on the light background. I made the text bigger but that only remedied it slightly. Overall I think this was a fun exercise, the seemingly endless freedom really let me express my creative freedom.

This was where I got the flowers

https://pngtree.com/free-flower-png

#typography #artwork #artists on tumblr #digital art #digital illustration

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discoscoob · 4 years ago

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Fires of Pompeii | Loki x Female Reader

Loki (Marvel) x Doctor Who

You and Loki meet each other while you’re both running for your lives through the streets of Pompeii.

Part Two | Chapter Index

Words: 10k +

Warnings: blood and injury

Read on AO3: here

You huddled under the arch of an abandoned doorway just off the high street, it provided you suitable enough shelter from the miserable rain which pathetically drizzled down from the night sky. The light from the street lamps, traffic and shop fronts reflected off the soaked concrete while in the distance you could hear the laughter and chatter of groups of people as they made their way to the pubs and the clubs, the night was still early for them but you intended to be home and curl up in bed within the hour but first, dinner.

You warmed your frozen fingertips around the paper wrapping which contained a piping hot portion of golden chips from your favourite chippy. Just as you were about to pop one of the steaming chips into your mouth using one of those tiny wooden forks you only ever find in chip shops, something caught your attention and you paused.

“You’re not mating with me, sunshine!” A woman gasped in a broad east London accent that you would recognise anywhere, it belonged to your auntie Donna, a fiery redhead with an unmistakable dialect. Reluctantly you dropped your wooden fork, with your chip still attached to it, back onto the pile of chips which sat on the wrapping paper cradled in your palm and you ran out from under the doorway to investigate.

“A mate. I want a mate.” Came a reply and you turned your head in the direction the voice came from to find your auntie, half shielding herself behind the door of an old police box, while a man you didn’t recognise stood before her wearing a pinstripe suit with a pile of luggage gathered around his feet.

“Well just as well because I’m not having any of that nonsense. I mean you’re just a long string of nothing, you know, alien nothing.” She asserted, now standing fully outside the police box.

“Is everything okay?” You approached the pair, completely lost by the conversation or argument you had picked up on midway through. Upon hearing your voice Donna gasped your name suddenly looking like someone caught doing something they shouldn’t.

“Oh chips! I love chips. Can I have one?” The man smiled and pinched a chip from your pile before you could even answer.

“I can explain.” Donna offered and that is where it all began.

Donna’s explanation had consisted of an elaborate story about how the man she was with, known simply as The Doctor, was the last surviving member of an advanced alien species which specialised in space and time travel and that he had offered to take her exploring with him through all of time and space. Naturally your initial response was one of disbelief, you questioned your auntie on how much she had to drink that night, then you quickly switched to concern wondering if this strange man had drugged her.

Donna looked offended that you believed she was anything but sober while the Doctor was startled that you believed he had any ill intent and was quick to sincerely reassure you that he meant your auntie no harm and that he was more than happy to extend his invitation of space and time travel to you, either in order to prove what they were telling you was in fact the truth or to allow you to come along to ensure Donna’s safety.

You were tempted by his offer until you found out that their mode of transportation was the cramped police box the three of you were stood in front of, the Doctor informed you that it was called a TARDIS, an abbreviation for something you were sure you wouldn’t remember, and that it’s appearance as a police box was merely a disguise however the function had stopped working several decades ago meaning it was stuck like that permanently. You questioned how all of you would comfortably fit inside, along with the huge pile of Donna’s luggage. Images of scenes from Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure ran through your mind, the two teens faces pushed up against the glass of phone box which they were squashed into like sardines along with several prominent figures from history.

Your concern soon developed into wonder after you were ushered by the pair into the box to find it was much bigger on the inside, and not in a ‘its size is deceiving’ sort of way where they cleverly maximised the limited space inside, it was literally impossibly bigger. You had to immediately step outside and circle the boxes perimeter to make sure it wasn’t attached to any walls but it stood in the middle of the street completely detached from any other structure or building. That is when you first started to believe that maybe what Donna had told you wasn’t so far fetched after all.

Barely 10 minutes later you were rendered speechless as you were stood in the middle of a busy outdoor market, chippy tea long forgotten. Beneath your feet the ground was no longer covered in puddles or reflected the colours of the different city lights, instead you stood on cobble stone covered with dry sand and stray piles of straw. The black night sky was replaced by a flawless blue with not a single white cloud in sight as the heat of the midday sun caressed your skin. You were quick to unwrap your scarf from around your neck and shrug off your bulky winter coat and carelessly throw them back into the TARDIS without a care where they landed.

“Ancient Rome!” The Doctor enthusiastically announced.

Your eyes scanned around the bustling market once again and you took in the sight of all the people dressed in period typical clothing, tunics, sandals and such. The air way filled with the smell of fresh baked goods, scents similar to a barbeque and the faintest smell of horse stables. Some people who walked by were even wearing armour with long red capes draped over their shoulders, you eyed them cautiously as they passed.

“Oh my god!” Donna gasped, grabbing your attention you quickly turned around. “It’s… it’s so Roman! This is fantastic.”

You rolled your eyes at her dramatics as she threw her arms around the Doctors neck to pull him into a hug and he laughed happily with a proud smile on his face. You had to admit, you were impressed, more than impressed, you were astonished. You could hardly believe your eyes as you took in your surroundings, you would have believed you were on a film set were it not for the lack of a technology crew, cameras and director yelling at you to get out the way of the shot.

“Hold on a minute, that sign over there’s in English. Are you having us on?” Donna spotted and you looked in the direction she pointed in to find a sign which read ‘TWO AMPHORAS FOR THE PRICE OF ONE’ and your shoulders sank and the prospect of being lied to this whole time.

“No, no, no,” the Doctor calmly reassured her “that’s the TARDIS translation circuits, it looks like English. It works for speech as well, you’re talking Latin right now.”

That certainly was very clever and convenient, you thought to yourself.

The Doctor lead the way as you continued your stroll through the crowded streets in search of landmarks like the colosseum, the pantheon and the circus maximus. You were excited by the prospect of seeing these ancient landmarks in all their former glory but the Doctor appeared lost as he aimlessly wondered the streets with no sense of direction.

A sudden deep continuous rumbling caused the ground beneath your feet to shake and vibrate, causing tremors to ripple through your entire body, almost knocking you off balance, while the pottery from the market stalls could be heard smashing as they fell to the floor and the scent of smoke in the air intensified. You panicked and grabbed onto Donna’s arm for balance, you caught her staring upwards her eyes transfixed on the sight before her. You followed her line of sight and your face dropped when you saw a mountain top standing tall over the small buildings which surrounded you, as black clouds of ash emerged from the top of it, your heart hammered against your ribcage and your grip on Donna involuntarily tightened.

“Pompeii. We’re in Pompeii and it’s volcano day.” Your throat closed up as you heard the words leave the Doctors lips.

Without another word the Doctor began sprinting back in the direction you previously came, you and Donna quickly followed on his heel. As all three of you dashed through the busy streets as fast as your feet could carry you, in an attempt to make it back to the TARDIS and escape the city before the volcano erupted, you collided into someone’s chest just as they were running in the opposite direction, your foot got caught on their ankle, causing you to trip and before you knew it you were heading straight for the floor with barely enough time to brace for impact.

“Watch where you’re-“ You heard a raised voice behind you and cringed as you prepared to be yelled at on top of the humiliation of already tripping flat on your face, but his voice faltered mid-sentence and you cautiously looked over your shoulder to find a man dressed in modern attire staring back at you with a slack jaw and his brows pulled together as his eyes roamed over you. Obviously your modern clothes caught his attention, just as his caught yours and you could practically see the cogs turning behind his eyes, you were sure your expression mirrored his as you studied each other. You pushed yourself to your feet and glanced over his appearance from head to toe. His shoulder length dark hair was windswept indicating that he must have been running for some time, he wore a brown jacket with its collar pulled up, over a plain white dress shirt paired with a thin dark tie and matching straight leg brown trousers and on his feet he wore a pair of smart polished black shoes. He definitely didn’t belong here, you concluded.

You barely noticed him take a quick glance over your shoulder before he grabbed a firm hold of your wrist and pulled you into a small nook hidden behind one of the market stalls and clamped his hand over your mouth before you could let out a single sound. You glared up at him to try and communicate how aggravated you were, only to find he wasn’t even looking at you as he was too occupied with searching the market with shifty eyes. So you gave up on your glaring in an effort to try and spot what he was looking for, that is when you caught sight of a man who stood out in the crowd, due to the fact that he, too, was dressed in modern attire. You could see he was searching for something, no doubt it was the man who had you pinned against a secluded wall with his hand over your mouth, for your own good you had to ignore the way your stomach flipped ever so slightly by that predicament.

Once the man on the street was out of sight the stranger slowly removed his hand from your jaw and took a step back to give you some space. You were about to open your mouth to ask him what exactly that was all about when another rumble shook the ground beneath your feet and reminded you of how urgently you needed to catch up with Donna and the Doctor before the entire city was destroyed and you along with it. You had no time to stop and interrogate the stranger with all your questions such as where he came from, how he got here, who was that man on the street and why was he hiding from him and why volcano day in Pompeii was such a popular destination for time travellers. Perhaps you could bring it up with the Doctor later as he seemed to have all the answers.

You were about to step foot back onto the street and continue your sprint back to the TARDIS but the stranger had other ideas. He wrapped his large hand around your upper arm and tugged you back against the wall, with no concerns about being gentle and this time he managed to cage you in with both his arms placed on each side of your head.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was low and intimidating, as he loomed over you threateningly and stared at you from under his dark eyebrows but with adrenaline already coursing through your veins you were feeling bolder than usual and with your mind occupied by the imminent threat of ash clouds and burning hot magma, it would take a lot more than a deep voice and an intimidating stare to scare you into submission right now.

“I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you have somehow failed to notice that you arrived in Pompeii on the same day the volcano famously erupts and I think it goes without saying that I’m not too fond of the idea of being here when it does. So to answer your question I am trying to get back to the time machine that I came here in so I can get out of here before the city is destroyed. I advise you hurry back to yours and do the same.”

The man looked taken aback by your abrupt tone and you momentarily allowed a fluttering of pride to fill your chest but it didn’t last long before it was once again drowned out by the heavy feeling of anxiety caused by the life threatening natural disaster which lay just around the corner, both literally and figuratively.

“The volcano doesn’t erupt until tomorrow,” the man finally explained once he regained his composure, dismissing your concerns. You blinked, contemplating whether or not to believe him. “But more importantly, I couldn’t help but hear the fact that you mentioned you have a time machine.”

“Of course. How else would I have got here? Don’t you have one?” Despite your positions you were beginning to feel less threatened by the man as your interaction shifted into feeling more like casual conversation.

“It’s a long story.” He vaguely answered.

“What about that man you were hiding from?” You suggested.

“What about him?”

“Does he not have a time machine?”

“It’s a long story.” He repeated and you sighed with the realisation that this conversation was going nowhere fast.

“Right. Well, it was... interesting to meet you but I need to get back to my aunt and the Doctor before I get left behind. Then I would be in trouble.” Donna wouldn’t leave you behind, you hoped, surely she was worrying about you right now, wondering where you were.

“I need safe passage on your time machine away from here.” The stranger rushed to explain before you could duck out of his makeshift trap.

“I mean... technically it’s not mine.” You awkwardly scratched the back of your neck, as you cleared up the misunderstanding.

“You just said you have a time machine.” He narrowed his eyes as his expression grew dangerous.

“I have access to one but it’s not mine. It belongs to the Doctor.” You quickly clarified.

“Then you will take me to this Doctor.” He commanded, leaving no room for negotiations.

“I don’t even know your name.” You hesitated.

At this the man paused and finally took a step back once again granting you your personal space.

“I am Loki of Asgard, God of Mischief and you will answer to my request.” Loki answered as he raised his head with pride and looked down his nose at you.

There was a momentary beat of silence as you stared at one another before you couldn’t hold it any longer and you let out a snort of laughter.

“I’m sorry, does that amuse you?” Loki look mortified and you quickly bit your lip to contain your giggles, realising he looked truly offended.

“Wait, you’re being serious?” You paled.

His quiet glare was enough to tell you he was not messing around and you looked down and awkwardly cleared your throat. Had you met this man yesterday you probably would’ve thought without a shadow of doubt that he was suffering from delusions of grandeur but today you were in Pompeii in 79 AD so your mind was beginning to open up to new possibilities, one of those being, meeting a God. Stranger things have happened.

“Okay, Loki, God of mischief...” you began as you introduced yourself following the same format, telling him your name followed by the country you lived in and jokingly adding ‘mortal of existential crises’ at the end.

“Don’t do that again.” Loki didn’t appear amused.

***

“No, no, no. This can’t be happening.” You panicked when you returned to the exact spot where the Doctor had left the police box only to discover it had vanished, leaving no trace behind.

“What? What can’t be happening?” Loki asked you from where he stood a few steps behind, his eyes were still shifty as he seemed paranoid about that man he was hiding from finding him.

“The TARDIS, the time machine... it’s gone.” You could barely believe the words coming out your mouth, they couldn’t have left without you, Donna wouldn’t have left you behind. Unless the Doctor forced her, but no she would’ve fought him, you would never want to get on the wrong side of your auntie, she was a force to be reckoned with and the Doctor was no match, like she had said he was a long string of alien nothing. There had to be an explanation.

“Are you sure that this is where they left it?” Loki impatiently offered.

“Yes, I’m certain. It’s a big blue police box, you can’t miss it. He parked it right there.” You gestured to the empty corner with both your arms, before you brought one of your hands to your forehead while the other rested on your hip.

“Excuse me.” You jumped when you felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around to find an older man with a head full of curly hair stood behind you. “I couldn’t help but overhear you’re looking for a blue box.”

“Yes, it was stood right there,” you pointed behind you. “Did you see it?”

“I sold it. A young couple came looking for it not too long ago, I sent them to Old Caecilius’ villa on Foss Street, he’s the one who bought it, if you’re quick you might be able to catch them, I think they might try to steal it.”

“Steal it? You can’t steal something that already belongs to you!” You complained.

“Well, it belongs to Caecilius now, don’t it? After all he bought it off me fair and square.” The man haggled and you finally noticed that he was speaking with a rough cockney accent which was very fitting with his sleazy disposition, presumably the work of the TARDIS’ automatic translations, this offered you the peace of mind that it was still here along with Donna and the Doctor.

“It wasn’t yours to sell!” You argued in return.

“It was on my patch, weren’t it?”

You growled, ready to argue back but Loki quickly stepped in.

“If you would be so kind as to point us in the direction of Foss Street and we will be on our way.” Loki charmed the older man with a polite smile and your jaw dropped at the contrast to the abrupt and arrogant attitude he had treated you with since your encounter began.

“Straight up there, big villa, can’t miss it.” He pointed to the street behind Loki.

“Thank you, sir.” Loki slightly nodded his head before before he took a hold of the back of the shirt near the small of your back and began tugging you towards Foss Street, while you stared at him speechless.

“What?” He finally snapped when you didn’t take your eyes off him.

“What was that?” You asked as you shrugged his hold off your shirt.

“What was what?”

“Back there,” you gestured behind you with your hand. “‘If you would be so kind... thank you, sir.’ What possessed you? You’ve been nothing but rude since I met you.”

“You we’re doing nothing but wasting my time by engaging in an argument with him and being polite was the quickest way to get the answer I needed so I could be on my way.” He curtly answered, never once meeting your gaze as he kept a vigilant eye on his surroundings.

“Why is that man looking for you?” You wondered out loud a few moments later, finding his constant surveillance of the surrounding area concerning. If you were going to help this man escape, undoubtedly you had a right to know what you were helping him run from.

“He wants to erase my existence.” He answered so bluntly it stunted to silence for a moment.

“Why?” You finally asked.

“I’m a glitch in the timeline, I’m not supposed to be here.” He admitted but you were lost.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a-“

“Long story.” You rolled your eyes but you meant no harm, Loki realised, when he fixed you with a hash glare which softened when he saw your teasing smile.

Your eyes quickly snapped away from Loki’s when you heard your name being called and found Donna running towards you, you left Loki to run over to her and she pulled you into a bone crushing hug once she finally reached you.

“I thought you had left without me.” You admitted, as you snuggled into her embrace, all your emotions of the day finally overwhelmed you and you felt moisture building at the rim of your eyes.

“I’d never leave you behind, besides your mother would kill me if I let anything happen to you.” She assured you with a small laugh, she wasn’t exaggerating. “But where did you go? You vanished into thin air.”

You were about to answer her when her eyes fell on Loki who was quietly stood behind you with his hands resting in the pockets of his pants, his modern attire immediately making him standout to Donna as he did to you when you first laid your eyes on him.

“Who’s this?” She asked, her interest clearly peaked.

You invited Loki over by extending your arm and he stepped up beside you.

“Loki, this is my auntie Donna. Donna, this is Loki. I crashed into him while we were running back to the TARDIS, he’s the reason I fell behind.” You glared at him accusingly and he rolled his eyes.

“You found your very own time traveller?” Donna looked at you with genuine excitement, obviously putting two and two together from his outfit.

“I am a God.” Loki narrowed his eyes, frustrated at his status being reduced to ‘someone’s time traveller’

Just like you had, Donna burst into laughter and you awkwardly pulled your lips together while you waited for her to realise he was being serious.

“He’s a bit full of himself but at least he’s easy on the eye.” Donna did a terrible job of trying to subtly whisper in your ear and you massaged your eyebrows in embarrassment.

“I heard that.” Loki sighed exasperatedly, already finding your aunties lack of filter tedious.

“Come on, let’s get you inside. It’s getting dark.” Donna put her arm around you and guided you into the villa, in an effort to run away from Loki’s glare. Loki followed a few paces behind the pair of you and he glanced over his shoulder one last time before he stepped through the entrance to the villa.

***

As soon as you entered the villa you could see how grand it was compared to the other houses on the streets of Pompeii, it was obvious that the family who lived here were well to do. Everywhere you looked all you could see was marble, it covered the walls and floors and the room was decorated with various marble sculptures and other art pieces, Caecilius was clearly a collector. Sculpted pillars ran through the room, supporting the high ceilings and in the very centre of the room there was fountain. You thought it was a shame that it would all be buried under rocks and fire within less than 24 hours, but you tried to let yourself think too much about it as Donna introduced you to Caecilius, the man who bought the Doctors TARDIS, which you noticed was stood in the far right corner of the room, and Metella his wife, she explained that they also had two teenagers, a daughter, Evelina but she was sleeping and a son, Quintus, who was currently out with the Doctor.

“The Doctor isn’t here? But we’re meant to be leaving.” You asked, your voice slightly raised in pitch due to your panic.

“Something came up. Strange things have been happening, he just wants to make sure nothing untoward is going on.” Donna answered.

“This Doctor...” Loki stepped forward. “He will return soon, yes? I am in quite the rush to leave.”

“You’re coming with us?” Donna looked between you and Loki for an answer.

“Yes.” He answered

“I mean, if it’s okay with the Doctor.” You answered at the same time.

Without warning the whole villa began to shake as tremors ran through the floor again, Caecilius and Metella held onto their valuables to stop them from smashing against the ground, it reminded you of the scene from Mary Poppin’s where Mrs Banks and the maids cling onto the furniture when the admiral sets off his cannon. You noticed that this time the tremors felt different, they weren’t continuous, they came one after another mimicking the rhythm of footsteps. Before you could question it, the Doctor came running loudly into the room just in time. A teenage boy, presumably Caecilius’ son, Quintus, followed close behind him.

“Get out! All of you! Get out!”

“Doctor! What is it?” Donna yelled, she and the Doctor were holding onto each other for stability and that’s when you realised you had instinctively held onto Loki after the tremors started and he was holding onto you, the both of you stepped away from each other as soon as you realised.

“I think we’re being followed!” The Doctor explained, before his eyes landed on Loki and he took in his appearance.

“Who are you?”

“Loki of Asgard-“ Loki started.

“The God of Mischief?” The Doctor finished, his pitch raised several octaves as his face scrunched up in confusion.

“Hold on, for real?” Donna looked between Loki and the Doctor, now realising Loki was serious about being a God earlier and in normal circumstances you would have face palmed.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” The Doctor thought out loud and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a device the size of a pen and pointed it at Loki, the tip glowed blue and it emitted a high pitched bleeping sound as he scanned it over his body.

“What is that?” Loki quickly jumped back, dodging the device in the Doctors hand and with a flash of emerald light he was holding a dagger in his hand, that appeared out of nowhere, causing you to gasp and Donna quickly pulled you to her side.

“It is a sonic screwdriver.” The Doctor answered distractedly, not even noticing the weapon in Loki’s hand as he closely inspected the device with furrowed brows and mumbled something about not being able to get clear readings, but before he could allow himself to get too concerned over the matter, you were all reminded of the bigger problem by the sound of a loud clatter which came from inside the room, it was caused by the metal grid flying off one of the square grills.

“Just get out!” The Doctor yelled at you all again, as he flapped his arms towards the doors but you were frozen to the spot, you could hear a sinister growling from beneath the floor, there was definitely something alive down there and from the cracks that were beginning to form around the grill, it was obviously trying to break out.

Gradually a large creature made of magma and stone began to rise out of the ground, until it stood to its full height of about eight foot.

“The Gods are with us.” Evelina, Caecilius’ daughter, cried as she entered the room and her mother wrapped a protective arm around her.

“That is no God! I am the only God present.” Loki seethed in offence.

“Water, we need water. Quintus, Donna, all of you, get water!” The Doctor yelled above the growls which came from the threatening creature.

You were about to follow Quintus and Donna out of the room as they rushed to get buckets of water like the Doctor instructed, but Loki grabbed hold of your wrist and kept you by his side. You looked at him and pulled your brows together confused by his actions, but he offered you no explanation as he closely watched the beast which stood high above all of you.

“Talk to me, that’s all I want! Talk to me! Just tell me who you are.” The Doctor cautiously approached the tempered creature, with his arms held out before him. “Don’t hurt these people.” He continued to try and reason with it, while it just continued to growl and snarl aggressively at him.

Quickly Quintus came rushing into the room with a bucket of water and threw it over the beast. A loud hissing could be heard, as steam evaporated around it, and the Doctor shielded Quintus with his own body as he backed him away from the creature which began to crumble to the floor into a heap of rocks.

“Like I said, not a God.” Loki smugly remarked to no one in particular.

“What was it?” Caecilius shouted at the Doctor, quickly learning that he was usually the one with all the answers.

“Carapace of stone, held together by internal magma, not too difficult to stop but I reckon that was just a foot soldier. Still... If there are aliens at work in Pompeii, it’s a good thing we stayed.” The Doctor pondered aloud.

“Excuse me, aliens?” Loki stepped forward.

“Oh yes, I still haven’t figured out what you’re doing here.” The Doctor drew his focus back to the God, clearly intrigued by his presence.

“It doesn’t matter why I am here, I only wish to leave.” Loki answered with a scowl.

“Why don’t you just leave the same way you got here.” The Doctor challenged with raised brows.

“I cannot.”

“Why not?”

As you observed the exchange you saw Loki falter and his eyes cast downwards.

“It would result in my death.” He answered truthfully.

The Doctor suddenly looked upon Loki with eyes that seemed filled with familiarity and a hint of sympathy.

“You remind me of an old friend of mine, I think you would’ve liked him,” he paused as if imagining it. “Actually, perhaps not… your personalities would’ve probably clashed.” The Doctor digressed. “Since you’re not supposed to be here you’re welcome to join us on the TARDIS.”

Loki’s brows shot up, as he seemed genuinely surprised that the Doctor agreed to let him travel on the TARDIS.

“We should be on our way, it will not be long before,” Loki glanced at Caecilius and his family who were all comforting each other after the ordeal they just witnessed, without wanting to mention the volcano out loud in case they might overhear he resorted to miming an explosion with is hands while adding a “boom” sound effect by blowing air through saliva at the back of his throat.

“Not just yet, I need to- Donna?” The Doctor paused looking around the room in search of Donna and you began looking around for her too but she was nowhere to be found. “When did you last see her?” The Doctor looked at you.

“She ran out when you asked for water, I didn’t realise she hadn’t returned.” You scolded yourself for not focusing, you should have noticed she wasn’t there.

“Donna!” The Doctor shouted at the top of his lungs, as he began to run out into the street but before he could leave Evelina stopped him timidly.

“I saw members of the Sibylline Sisterhood take her while you were confronting the beast.” She quietly confessed.

“The who?” You questioned, completely confused, while the Doctor grumbled under his breath wasting no more time before he dashed out the door and you were quick to follow after him. Behind you, you heard Loki call your name as he followed after, but you didn’t listen, Donna had been taken and she needed your help.

***

When you sneaked into the temple between the Doctor and Loki, who had caught up to you halfway, and saw Donna bound to a slab of stone, surrounded by a group of women dressed in red robes and one of them holding a dagger above her head ready to plunge it into your aunties chest, you were ready to attack, but the Doctor held you back before you could do anything rash and silent put a finger to his own lips to signal for you to keep quiet, his eyes silently assured you he had a plan.

“Let me go!” You heard Donna yell above the voice of the woman who held the dagger. The Doctor quietly made his way across the room, ready to intervene at any moment while you stayed by Loki’s side near the back of the room.

“This prattling voice will cease forever!” The woman yelled as she began to lower the dagger towards Donna.

“Oh, that will be the day.” The Doctor casually commented, causing all the women around Donna to gasp in shock, while your auntie sent the Doctor and you a wide smile when she realised you had all come to save her.

“No man is allowed in the Temple of Sibyl.” The woman who was clearly the leader of the group warned the Doctor, before her eyes also shifted to Loki.

“Well, that’s alright, just us girls.” The Doctor joked as he made his way towards the women, while in the corner of your eye you caught a glimmer of green light only to do a double take when you found Loki had transformed into a woman.

She sent you a proud smirk as you gaped at her with a slack jaw, your face full of confusion and astonishment.

You turned your head back to Donna and the Doctor when you heard the sound of his sonic screwdriver, which he held above her restraints and they immediately fell lose, freeing her bound wrists.

“I have got to get one of those.” Loki commented, her voice sounded more feminine to match her changed appearance, but it still kept that low and slightly intimidating tone.

As soon as Donna was free she came running over to you and you gave each other a hug, when she pulled back her eyes were on Loki.

“You’ve changed.” She stated the obvious as her eyes dragged up and down Loki’s new form.

“I am respecting the sisters temple.” Loki raised her chin and crossed her arms over her chest as she answered.

“Respecting the sisters temple?” Donna sounded exasperated. “They just tried to kill me!”

“I saw.” Loki offered no concern.

“I’m just glad you’re safe now.” You quickly interjected before the argument escalated, you put your hand on Donna’s shoulder and moved yourself between the pair while you sent Loki a disapproving stare.

“Show me this man!” A voice echoed through the temple, startling you and drawing your attention back to the Doctor and the sisters. Immediately they all turned and fell to their knees and bowed their heads.

“They dare kneel before another being whilst in the presence of a God?” Loki seethed as her brows cast a shadow over her eyes.

“And after you respected their temple n all.” Donna poked from beside you, feigning sympathy.

You placed a hand on Loki’s chest to hold her back when you heard her grumble under her breath.

“High Priestess, the stranger would defy us.” The leader spoke, being the only sister left standing.

“Let me see. This one is different. He carries starlight in his wake.” The voice echoed again, coming from behind a set of sheer drapes at the top of the temple.

“Where do these words of wisdom come from?” The Doctor asked as he approached the voice.

“The Gods whisper to me.” It replied.

“If they’re hearing voices, it’s not mine.” Loki raised her hands innocently.

“Might I beg audiences? Look upon the High Priestess?” The Doctor suddenly requested and the sheer drapes slowly pulled back to reveal a woman made of stone sat upon a bed.

You watched closely as the Doctor inspected the Priestess’ condition, and inquired her about it to try and figure out the cause.

“The people of Pompeii are turning to stone before the volcano erupts.” The Doctor observed.

“This word... this volcano... what is that?”

“More to the point, why don’t you know about it? Who are you?”

“High Priestess of the Sibylline!”

“No, I’m talking to the creature inside of you. I demand you tell me who you are!” The Doctor commanded.

“We... are... awakening!” The Priestess spoke, but her voice had suddenly deepened and multiplied, she sounded possessed.

“The voice of the Gods!” The leader of the sisters cried, before those who were on their knees before the Priestess began repeatedly chanting ‘words of wisdom, words of power...’ your eyes widened at the scene before you, Donna’s jaw was slack with shock, while Loki just rolled her eyes and appeared bored.

“We... are... rising!” The possessed voice of the Priestess grew louder as she rose from the bed and stepped toward the Doctor.

“Tell... me... your name!” He yelled back, mirroring her tone.

“Pyrovile!” The voice inside the Priestess roared.

“Pyrovile, pyrovile, pyrovile...” The sisters chanted.

“And the breath of a Pyrovile will incinerate you, Doctor.” The possessed Priestess threatened.

“I warn you I’m armed!” The Doctor yelled as he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket.

“Is that... a water gun?” Loki squinted her eyes at the yellow plastic toy the Doctor held in his fist.

You heard your name yelled by the Doctor as he instructed you and Donna to lift the grid off one of the grills, similar to the one the monster smashed through in Caecilius’ home.

Without hesitation you followed Donna over to the grill and you both hooked your fingers into the holes on each side and attempted to lift it, but it slipped from your fingers since you weren’t expecting it to be so heavy and it crashed back into place. Loki quickly joined you and Donna to offer a helping hand and together the three of you lifted the heavy iron grid, while the Doctor continued to argue with the Priestess behind you.

“Got it!” Donna yelled at the Doctor, once the grid was completed removed.

“Now get down!” The Doctor quickly shouted back, and you looked down into the hole in the ground which hot steam was rising out of.

“What, down there?” You asked, wondering if the Doctor had lost his mind.

“Yes, down there!”

“Sisters, I see into his mind, the weapon is harmless!” The leader of the sisters yelled.

“Yeah, but it’s gotta sting.” The Doctor shrugged before he began squirting water at the Priestess who groaned in pain as steam evaporated from where the squirts of water hit her stone surface and she stumbled backwards.

“Get down there!” He repeated louder when he saw none of you had yet made a move to jump into the hole.

Donna jumped in first.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” Loki spoke, her eyes almost looking spooked as she glanced down at the steaming hole.

“It’s either climb in there or stay here and wait for the volcano. Your choice.” The Doctor told Loki as he urged you to climb in next.

Sensing Loki’s anxiety you offered her an assuring nod. “You’ll be okay, look watch me and then follow right after.”

Once you joined Donna you found yourself in an underground cave, you could instantly feel the change in the temperature as the air was thick with heat. You looked back up through the hole to find Loki looking down at you.

“See, perfectly safe.” You assured her.

Hesitantly Loki climbed into the hole and you helped her down, once both her feet were on the ground she swayed and stumbled as if she was about to faint but you caught her with your arm around her waist and helped her regain her balance. She held your shoulders and shook her head and forcibly kept her eyes wide open before she looked back at you, suddenly aware of how close you were.

“Are you okay?” You asked, concerned by her behaviour.

A green light shimmered over her body and he returned to the form you had met him in, you noticed he instantly grew taller and you needed to tilt your head slightly to maintain eye contact, your arm was still wrapped around his waist but it was no longer holding him up as he was supporting his own weight now although you could still feel his body swaying slightly as it was pressed against yours.

“I’m fine.” He answered curtly, before taking a step back to put some distance between the two of you.

“This way!” The Doctor led as soon as he jumped into the cave.

“Where are we going now?” Donna sighed.

“Into the volcano.” The Doctor answered as if it were obvious.

You failed to notice Loki’s face fill with dread beside you.

“No way.” Donna challenged.

“Yes way.” The Doctor smiled as he twirled the water gun around his finger.

“Wait, for once I agree with her. We can’t go into the volcano. It could be dangerous.” Loki argued before quickly adding, “for mortals.”

“It will be fine, it doesn’t erupt for another few hours yet.” The Doctor dismissed. “Now, come on!”

Before anyone else could protest he had already turned on his heel and began leading the way through the cave, Donna followed behind him, you followed behind her and Loki was at the back.

As you followed Donna and the Doctor through the winding path of the cave, you kept taking quick glances over your shoulder to check on Loki and you grew increasingly concerned as his condition appeared to deteriorate each time you looked. The further you walked into the cave, the hotter and thicker the air became, you were surprised to find Loki seemed to be the one who was most affected by the conditions out of all of you. While your breathing had become heavy and a thin layer of sweat coated your skin, sweat literally dripped from Loki’s forehead, he started using the walls of the cave to hold himself up as his legs barely carried him, the skin around his eyes grew darker and you could hear him straining on each breath.

Once you reached inside the volcano Loki rested his back against the wall and began to sink to the floor, his chest rose and fell rapidly as he struggled to shrug off his jacket, his white shirt clung to his body due to his sweat and he attempted to loosened his tie with trembling hands.

“Doctor!” You called, as you rushed over to Loki who looked as though he was about to pass out. The Doctor quickly joined your side, as did Donna once her eyes fell on Loki’s condition.

“What happened?” He asked you urgently.

“I... I don’t know, he hasn’t been right ever since he entered the cave.” You explained.

“Loki! Loki, can you hear me?” The Doctor tried, he gently tapped Loki’s cheek but his head just lulled to the side and he struggled to keep his eyes open as he mumble some incoherent in a cracked voice.

The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and began scanning it over Loki.

“That’s not possible.” You heard the Doctor whisper to himself as he looked over the readings, he quickly gave Loki another scan and read them again and his face squished up in pure confusion.

“What is it?” You urged him.

“He’s... he’s Jotun?” The Doctor answered while sounding more like he was asking a question.

“What’s a Jotun when it’s at home?” Donna asked.

“He isn’t Asgardian at all, magic is suppressing his true form. He’s from Jotunheim, a frost plant inhabited by Jotuns, they aren’t designed to withstand heat of such temperatures as this. We need to get him out of here.” The Doctor quickly explained as he crouched down to scoop a barely conscious Loki into his arms and held him bridal style, once he knew he was secure he began running further into the volcano, leaving both you and Donna trailing behind after him.

You all stopped in your tracks when you found more of the giant stone beasts roaming around inside the volcano.

“There’s tons of them.” Donna gasped. “You better hurry up and think of something, Rocky 4’s on its way.”

“There’s an escape pod!” The Doctor noticed.

“Maybe... it erupts, and they launch themselves back into space or something?” Donna offered, since obviously the escape pod belonged to the stone creatures which were currently invading Pompeii.

“Oh, it’s worse than that.” The Doctor whispered.

“How could it be worse?” You frowned.

“Heathens!” You heard a man cry. “Defile us! They would desecrate your temple, My Lord Gods!”

“Come on.” The Doctor started running towards the escape pod, which looked like a huge hollow boulder with circuits inside.

“We can’t go in!” Donna shouted after him.

“Well, we can’t go back.”

“Crush them! Burn them!” The man who you now noticed was stood on top of some rocks looking down at you as you tried to escape.

A giant monster blocked your path to the escape pod and growled causing you all to slide to a stop.

“Get the water gun, it’s tucked into the back of my pants!” The Doctor called your name, unable to get it himself as he was still holding an unconscious Loki in his arms. You wasted no time reaching for the water gun and squirted it directly at the creature and it stumbled back with a groan easily allowing you all enough time to rush past and continue your dash towards the escape pod.

“There is nowhere to run!” The man screamed.

“No. But if I might beg the wisdom of the Gods, before we perish, once this new race of creatures is complete, then what?” The Doctor yelled up to the man.

“My masters will follow the example of Rome itself. There is heat enough in this world for a new species to rise.”

“Yeah, I should warn you, it’s 70% water out there.” The Doctor explained, nodding his head to the world which lay beyond the mountain.

“Water can boil, and everything will burn!” The mad man argued.

“Then the whole planet is at stake.” The Doctor concluded to himself. “Thank you. That’s all I needed to know.”

He quickly turned and gently lowered Loki to the floor of the escape pod then ushered both you and Donna inside before he squeezed in as well and used his sonic to seal the door shut.

It was cramped inside of the small escape pod with the four of you squashed inside together, once you got inside you immediately crouched down beside Loki to check on his condition.

“Loki, can you hear me?” You gently nudged his shoulder. His eyes fluttered slightly but he failed to open them and he let out a weak groan, but you were just relieved that he was still conscious.

You were conscious of the fact that inside the cramped space of the escape pod it felt even hotter, even you were starting to feel faint. You were still holding the water pistol in your hand and had an idea. You took a gentle hold of Loki’s chin in your free hand and encouraged his mouth open, in his weak state he didn’t fight you, and you pulled the trigger of the toy gun to spray water into his mouth. Once he felt the cool liquid hit his tongue he gladly accepted it as it provided him a little relief from the heat. Loki offered you a small grunt as thanks.

“See? The energy converter takes the lava, uses the power to create a fusion matrix, which welds the Pyrovile to human. Now it’s complete, they can convert millions.” You heard the Doctor explaining how the Pyrovile planned to take over the human race to Donna, sounding completely horrified.

“Can’t you change it? With these controls?” Donna tried, her voice filled with panic.

“I can invert the system, set off the volcano, and blow them up, yes. But that’s the choice, Donna. It’s Pompeii or the world.” The Doctor revealed the heavy decision you were all faced with.

“Oh my god.” Donna paled.

“If Pompeii is destroyed then it’s not just history, it’s me. It was always meant to be me, I make it happen.” The Doctor realised. “Push this leaver and it’s over. 20,000 people.”

The pod fell silent as the Doctor froze with his hands held over the leaver, Donna watched him with tears building in her eyes and you looked at Loki who was barely unconscious and you made your choice.

You used the wall to push yourself back up to your feet and you stepped between Donna and the Doctor. You placed your trembling hands over the Doctors. You looked to your auntie when she whispered your name and saw the tears brimming out of her eyes your chest felt heavy. At first you thought she was going to talk you out of it but when you felt her hand rest on top of yours you couldn’t control the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes as well. She gave you a final nod and then you knew you could do it, all three of you pushed down the leaver and within seconds the entire pod was shaking, you braced yourself against the wall, careful not to trample over Loki and prepared yourself for whatever fate awaited you.

Your body got flung around as you were pretty sure that the pod you were in was currently flying through the air, you could only pray you would survive the crash landing. A force pushed you to the ground and you landed on top of Loki’s chest, while the Doctor fell down beside you and Donna miraculously remained the only one standing. Your eyes snapped open when you felt the first breeze of fresh air brush your cheek and you saw the Doctor crawling out the pod. You felt hands wrap around your upper arms and you looked up to find Donna helping you to your feet and you both stumbled out the pod on shaking legs, while the Doctor lifted Loki back into his arms and you noticed that he had sustained an injury to his head during the escape.

You didn’t have much time to do anything other than run when you noticed the heavy cloud of ash quickly heading straight for you and all three of you began running as fast as your legs could carry you, hoping you could make it to the city and into the TARDIS before it was too late.

You and Donna held onto each other’s hands as you ran ahead of the Doctor who was slowed down by the extra weight of Loki, but he still managed to run pretty fast. You weren’t far from the city when the thick ash blocked out the light of the sun and plunged the city into darkness, though it was daytime it felt like night as you raced through the streets, trying to remember the direction to Caecilius’ villa.

Ash fell down from the sky like snow as the people of the town scrambled in different directions in attempts to make it out of the city alive, you could hear nothing but their cries and the thunderous sound of the volcano as it felt like the whole world was crumbling around you.

As Caecilius’ villa came into view you pushed yourself to go even faster and you looked over your shoulder to find the Doctor not too far behind with Loki still in his arms, his injured head fell limp over the crook of the Doctors arm, revealing his long neck and prominent adam’s apple and dread struck through you, you had to remind yourself he was only unconscious.

You pushed through the doors of Caecilius’ villa and headed straight towards the TARDIS but the sound of whimpering stopped you in your tracks, you looked to find Caecilius and his family crowded together on the floor, holding on tight to one another as they cried.

“God save us, Doctor!” Caecilius begged the Doctor when he came running in behind you, and he stopped beside you and Donna for a moment as you all looked at the family, you thought the Doctor would encourage them all to get on board his TARDIS but eventually he turned away kept running towards his TARDIS in the corner of the room.

“No! Doctor, you can’t!” Donna called after him, you silently looked between the Doctor and the family, as he kicked the TARDIS door open with his foot and disappeared inside with Loki. You pushed away the feeling of guilt which fell heavy on your chest as you followed after the Doctor into the TARDIS.

“Donna!” You pleaded with her when she remained frozen in place, she couldn’t look away from Caecilius and his family as they looked straight back at her, silently begging her to save them. The sound of one of the windows smashing through snapped Donna back into reality and she looked back at you before she hesitantly made her way towards the TARDIS, leaving the family behind.

When you entered the TARDIS, you saw the Doctor had placed Loki down onto the floor while he operated the console, preparing the TARDIS to leave. You rushed over to Loki and immediately checked his pulse and breathed a heavy sigh of relief when you found it still beating.

“You can’t just leave them!” You heard Donna yell as soon as she entered the TARDIS but you couldn’t lift your eyes from Loki, looking over his pale face and hovering your hand over the injury on his head, drops of blood had ran down the side of his sharp cheek and matted into part of his hair.

“Don’t you think I’ve done enough? History’s back in place and everyone dies.” You heard the Doctor answer, as you checked over Loki for anymore injuries.

“You’ve got to go back. Doctor, I am telling you, take this thing back!” Donna demanded.

The TARDIS shuddered and your whole body jerked letting you know the Doctor had sent it into flight, once the tremors subsided, the ship fell silent.

“It’s not fair.” Donna whispered.

“No, it’s not.” The Doctor agreed.

“But your own planet. It burned.” Donna cried, and you finally looked up, you didn’t know what your auntie was referring to but you looked at the Doctor with sympathy. It suddenly made sense why he froze when it came to pushing the leaver, if he had already watched his own planet suffer a similar fate.

“That’s just it. Don’t you see, Donna? Can’t you understand? If I could go back and save them then I would, but I can’t. I can never go back. I can’t, I just can’t, I can’t.” His voice broke.

“Just someone. Please.” Donna bargained. “Not the whole town. Just save someone.”

“You saved him,” you spoke, as you looked at Loki, who was laid out in front of you. “You can save them too.”

***

The Doctor had returned to Pompeii and saved Caecilius and his family, he and Donna were currently outside bidding them fair well where the Doctor had safely dropped them off just outside of Rome, while you stayed inside the TARDIS by Loki’s side waiting for him to regain consciousness.

You had cradled his head and moved so you could cushion it against your lap, since you imagined his head will already be hurting from the injury it wouldn’t be very comfortable for him to rest it against the hard floor of the TARDIS.

The first sign of Loki regaining consciousness was his eyebrows drawing together as a groan slipped out between his lips, no doubt quickly becoming aware of the pain in his head. His eyelashes fluttered against the top of his ash covered cheeks before his eyes slowly blinked open and the first thing he saw was your face above his.

“Hi,” you began, unsure of what else to say.

You barely leaned back in time to avoid his head colliding with yours as he suddenly shot up, so he was sitting up straight on the floor with his legs still lying out in front of him. This appeared to make his head rush as he moaned and cradled his head in the palms. You slowly shuffled up to him so you were at his side, careful not to startle him, you hesitantly placed your hand on his strong shoulder.

“It’s okay, you’re safe.” You assured him softly.

He lifted his face to look at you, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quiet put your finger on.

“Where are we?” He asked you, for the first time since you met him his voice sounded gentle.

“The TARDIS.” You answered him, just as gently.

He let his eyes roam over the room, taking in his surroundings, before they finally landed back on you. “Am I severely concussed or is this thing bigger on the inside?”

You laughed softly.

“It’s bigger on the inside.” You confirmed. “Don’t ask me how, I have no idea how it works, if you’d like to know I’d recommend asking the Doctor.”

Loki nodded with a slight smile as his eyes fell to his lap and you both stayed like that for a moment, neither of you saying anything.

“Thank you.” Loki eventually broke the silence.

“What?” Your head shot up, afraid you had misheard him.

Loki avoided your eyes and his dark hair shadowed most of his face, protecting him from your gaze as he continued.

“For what you did in the volcano and for...” he cleared his throat, “for the lack of a better word... saving me, I guess.”

“I mean to be fair the Doctor did most of the heavy lifting.” You humbly joked.

“Where is he anyway?” Loki asked, since he noticed it was only you and him. “Isn’t he the pilot of this thing?”

“He’s just outside with Donna saying goodbye to Caecilius and his family, he dropped them off safely just outside of Rome.” You don’t know why your chest felt heavy as you asked Loki your next question, perhaps it was due to the fact that you had just started warming to his company and he would be leaving soon. “So do you know where you would like the Doctor to drop you off?

Loki seemed stumped by your question, as if he hadn’t gave where he was going much consideration, instead he was more focused on just escaping Pompeii rather than where he was escaping to. When some time passed and had yet to answer, you decided to break the silence.

“I mean, if you’re not sure where you want to go, you could always stay with us.” You offered, it was now your turn to avoid his eyes as he looked at you with as much shock as you had when he thanked you.

“You think the Doctor would be okay with that?” Loki worried.

“Sure, why wouldn’t he?” You now looked up at him with your brows pulled together.

Loki opened his mouth about to answer you when he realised, you didn’t know him, you didn’t know any of his previous actions, on Asgard, on Jotunheim and on your very own planet. Then it crossed his mind, he didn’t know what year you were from, in his time it had been about a week since he attacked New York, he imagined his face would have been all over every media outlet after the attack but you hadn’t even recognised him when you first ran into each other.

“What year are you from?” Loki quickly inquired out of nowhere and you were a bit confused by the random question.

“2008.” You answered him anyway.

4 years before he first stepped foot on midgard, 4 years before he attacked New York under Thanos’ control, 4 years before you would know him as the man who tried to take over your planet and rule the human race. Right now you only knew him as the time travelling God of mischief who you ran into while you were both running for your lives. He had anonymity with you, you offered the perfect opportunity for him to start a fresh. He could join you on the TARDIS for a while, with your auntie and the Doctor plus he imagined it would only make it harder for the TVA to find him if he was constantly moving through time and space.

“I would like that.” Loki confessed.

“To stay?” You asked hopefully, just to make sure you weren’t misinterpreting him.

When Loki nodded you couldn’t hold back the smile that took over your whole face, you we’re excited to spend more time with Loki, learn more about him and explore all of time and space with the God of mischief.

#loki #loki (marvel)#marvel #doctor who #loki imagine #loki x reader #loki x you #tom hiddleston #Tenth Doctor #Donna Noble #fires of pompeii

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sinceileftyoublog · 2 years ago

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Hedvig Mollestad Interview: The Rhythm of Care

Photo by Kim Hiorthøy

BY JORDAN MAINZER

On her upcoming album Maternity Beat, Norwegian guitarist and composer Hedvig Mollestad redefines what it means to be maternal. Though she has two kids, her exploration of motherhood is not autobiographical, nor is it dependent on having children at all. Really, Mollestad boils the concept down to its essence: caring for something other than yourself.

Around the European migrant crisis of 2015/2016, Mollestad had her first child but was faced with images, whether on the news or in person, of immigrants from Syria coming to Europe to request asylum, many of whom had young children of their own. At the same time the unfortunate nativist aftereffects of the crisis arose around the world, Mollestad was beginning to feel like she needed to do something different with her music. She drafted Maternity Beat for the Trondheim Jazz Orchestra and pitched it to the Molde International Jazz Festival and Midtnorsk Jazzsenter. While they rejected it in 2017, they eventually accepted it for the Festival’s 60th anniversary in 2020, which, unlike so many other festivals that year, actually did go on, albeit at a much lower audience capacity. Last October, Mollestad and the Trondheim Jazz Orchestra recorded Maternity Beat, which finally sees release next Friday on Rune Grammofon.

Though the recorded version of Maternity Beat is a bit shorter due to studio time and vinyl constraints, the ideas are consistent: It’s a piece about how we support each other and help each other grow. Mollestad knew pretty early that she wanted to include spoken word, or at least voice, on the record, and from the very first track, we’re presented with what’s at stake: “Is there a boat on the horizon? / With mothers and children and fathers?” Atop rolling drums and sharp guitars, and eventually woodwinds that sound somewhat hopeful, we experience the rollercoaster of emotions brought upon by these images of desperation. “Do Re Mi Ma Ma” contains improvised nonsensical vocals that sound like a baby trying to say their first words, and clattering drums that are akin to how one might play with their toys. Eventually, the band picks back up, with horn blasts and searing guitar solos, the song developing in sophistication along the way. “Her Own Shape” is comparatively subdued, inspired by parents giving their children tools they need to create, with peaceful, wordless harmonies over bendy, exploratory guitars.

But it’s “Donna Ovis Peppa” that’s the album’s centerpiece, touching on the brunt of the record’s themes. The title itself is inspired by the phrase Dona nobis pacem (“Grant us Peace”), which comes from the Agnus Dei section of the Roman Catholic mass. “Ovis” itself is a play on Ove, the name of the father of Mollestad’s childhood best friend, who was a big supporter of her as a child and was sick with cancer at the time Mollestad was writing Maternity Beat. “I had a little contact with his family...in spring of 2020,” Mollestad told me over Zoom a couple weeks ago. “I had this urge to make something in this music for him. That’s the 5/4 pattern in the middle. It’s made only for him and his family.” He ended up passing away the day before Mollestad and the Orchestra performed for the first time. The last part of the song’s title is, yes, inspired by Peppa Pig, whose instrumental theme you can hear in the song if you listen closely enough. Mollestad’s children loved Peppa Pig, and though they’re too old for it now, I guess she wanted to nod at least once to her own motherhood.

Read my conversation with Mollestad below, edited for length and clarity, in which we talk about the album’s themes, working as a guitarist with a large orchestra, and the distinctive cover art.

Since I Left You: Last time we were talking, you mentioned Maternity Beat in context of reading Dag Hoel’s Fred er ei det beste, about ammunition production in Norway. Now, I understand the context, you thinking about the world you want your child to grow up in. As such, this album is your first time exploring gender and motherhood in relation to your music, which you were reticent to do before. Why was that, and what changed?

Hedvig Mollestad: The main reason in the beginning was as simple as I thought it was very important for there to be female instrumentalists where [people] were only talking about their instruments and their craft, the subject of their music and guitar and art. Very often, I saw female musicians being asked to comment on their gender, and of course, male musicians never were. So I was very strict on that. Gender-related stuff wasn’t my expertise. My experience with it would have been a very selective voice to the matter. If someone wanted to know something about it, they could find some good feminist research about it.

Music and art today are fighting a lot against the media. At the same time, it’s a way of reaching people, as that’s the nature of music, to be heard by others if not necessarily everyone. You want to find a way of getting into the ears of people who appreciate it. But [the media] is also problematic because it’s taking away the focus from the music itself. Very many musicians have to work with the media to be there in the right way, and you have to produce and tell people you’ve done it and present it in a way. [The media] grasping into the places where the art is made and taking over a little bit. For that reason, I was trying to focus on the music. As it’s instrumental music, I don’t have lyrics I can pull meanings and philosophies from.

Now, as I’m 40 and a mother of two, I’ve understood that as a touring musician and a composer, it’s also important for others that mothers are visible as musicians. Now, I’m sharing a little bit more for both female and male musicians. Touring as a family member is hard. It’s very good for the community to be open about it and talk about it and share our experiences. I’m also in a position to be able to work with my music as it is.

I was playing with my much beloved Trio for many many years. I started feeling that I wanted to make music for other kind of ensembles using other kinds of instruments and expressions. [I had the idea for Maternity Beat] very early in 2017, and I drafted it for the Trondheim Jazz Orchestra and the Festival. They didn’t pick it up at the time, but they picked it up a couple years later for their 60th anniversary. It took some time for it to come to live. I started to work on it and was supposed to work on it at the start of 2020. The pandemic came. The festival was so big, they decided to go through with it even though the capacity would be very low and very uncertain. I got to work on this February-June of 2020. The children were not in school. I spent time with them during the day when my boyfriend was working, and when he came home, I just left the house for my rehearsing and working space. I worked the evening and the night and came back. It was very focused and so undisturbed. It was such a good place to dig into another world, thematically and in terms of deeper structures and working them out all the way.

SILY: When did you start to think about motherhood and parenthood as it relates to the various social issues you explore on the album, like the migrant crisis?

HM: The idea for this music was first and foremost musical. I wanted to write for a big orchestra, and I wanted to put the guitar in a way that could drive it without taking up too much space and without being an instrument like the saxophone and the trumpets [that are] playing lines. The title Maternity Beat was very good to work from because it suggested rhythm and something that, yes, [has to do with] motherhood, but also mother earth. I wanted to connect it to my experiences, but I was also clear to myself from the beginning that it wasn’t going to exclude anyone. It’s not about being a mother; it’s about caring. What’s happening when you’re caring for someone or something? What’s waking us up to care for others? For people that have children, it could be parenthood, but it doesn’t necessarily have to me. Many people have bad relationships with their parents [or no parents] at all. [Maternity Beat] is a way of describing how we care and what makes us care. That’s the only thing we have in common. We all come from parents, but not all of us know them or like them.

When you’re a new mother, you’re very full of hormones, and it’s very overwhelming. Suddenly, another life is relying on you and your presence so much. That was very shocking for me as it is for very many new parents. There are so many parents and children around the world that have so many bigger issues than putting their kids to bed and making them go to sleep. When the migrant crisis happened in Norway in Europe in 2015/2016, that was when I had my first child. I found it very disturbing we were [having] this amazing experience at the same time there was a crisis for people in my situation. I was going around and making my baby fall asleep, but I felt like I wanted to go and help others because they really needed it. It’s a cliché, but with the loss of power you feel when a global crisis comes close, it feels meaningless to go on with your life and letting [the crisis] pass by on the side. So I didn’t want the album to be about [speaks in precious voice] my child and the beauty of life. It’s such a harsh contrast and still is.

SILY: Even though your music doesn’t usually have lyrics, this album does have passages of spoken word that allude to what you’re talking about. At what point during the creative process did you realize you wanted something more lyrical on here?

HM: I knew it quite early, because I was setting up what type of musicians I wanted to be a part of the project. I wanted to use vocalists for that purpose, not just to use their voice but to speak words that had meaning. I also knew very early I wanted the opening track to contain lyrics about the darkest part of this, to set the pace and get it over with. [laughs] For the first track, I was very inspired by Scott Walker and the opening of Tilt. It hasn’t been many years since I heard that for the first time. It made such an impression on me. The atmosphere that he creates, and the emotionlessness of the words. [sings] “Do I hear, 21, 21, 21.” There’s no metaphor. It’s very simple yet extremely powerful. I really wanted to go in that direction because the focus he managed to make there is really amazing. During the composing process, I wanted to have different theories in different parts of the music. I didn’t want it to be one big fat sausage. I wanted various things represented, both humorous and my experiences with motherhood. So I put in the words for when I thought [the music] needed it.

SILY: You really get at what you’re aiming for on “Her Own Shape”, which is about parents giving children the space and tools they need to thrive. That song is so spacious as compared to the rest of the record, almost like a canvas that demands to be filled.

HM: The words [on that song] are so very specific and filled up with serious meaning, the music cannot be as emotional as the text. It should be beautiful and easygoing, and a place for that lyric to be able to be what it is without too much disturbance.

SILY; Can you talk about the song “Do Re Mi Ma Ma”?

HM: The recorded version is a lot shorter than what we’re doing live. There’s a wonderful transition from the first part to the second. In general, [on the record], I was very specific for how the lyrics should be performed. I read them, recorded it how I wanted it to be, how short, etc. But I wanted to give [the vocalists] a task where they were a lot freer. So I thought, “Okay, what’s the [simplest] thing they could say?” It was, “ma.” So I gave them 5 minutes of improvisation. I said, “You can use 'ma,' but you have to avoid it sounding like 'mama,' at least for the first three minutes.” It was so funny and so interesting how they worked around that. I also wanted to have a bassline pattern that I could write so I could focus on the horns and trumpet section. “On The Horizon, Part 2″ has a lot of things happening with the band, very busy patterns with the guitar and the time signature changes. So I wanted to [follow it with] this very slow, bluesy bass riff where I could get the most out of the horns. That was a good thing to bring together with the vocalists.

SILY: You mentioned wanting to use the guitar in unexpected ways with this orchestra. Both of the singles, “All Flights Cancelled” and “On The Horizon, Part 2″, do that. When you think, “Guitar in a jazz orchestra,” you don’t necessarily hear the sounds of those two songs.

HM: “All Flights Cancelled” is a band song, with an A part and a B part. Rune Grammofon released that single first, but I think it’s the least orchestrated piece on the whole record because it’s only the band. I like it because it has a whole other mood than when we recorded it with the Trio. It was a good way to break everything up and bring back the focus to what I’m usually working on, which is the guitar in a band setting. [This time,] it was much more complex and involved a lot more composing. It was so hard to make it fit with the rest of the music. It had to be pointy and very audible. I’m not used to pointy and audible; I want to be broader. The tempo was quite high, and the time signature was changing. [The drummer] was really mixing the ingredients. That helped a lot with the role of the guitar, which had to be restricted.

SILY: I was also surprised by how much music from other regions of the world snuck in. “Donna Ovis Peppa” had some klezmer, and the hand percussion on “Maternity Sweep” was almost Latin. Was that intentional?

HM: I don’t think it was very intentional, but it was important for me to have percussion, other rhythmic impulses besides drums, to have another person go crazy on all these other rhythmic sounds. It’s an orchestra, and it should be in the drum section as well. The percussionist was instructed very little. He was encouraged to do what he thought would fit. Then we worked on it. We used congas and so many woodblocks! He was very free there. He’s amazing and eager and has so many ideas. He’s so vibrant and was working so hard. He was the one who left the studio the latest.

SILY: What’s the inspiration behind the cover art?

HM: I’ve been working with Kim [Hiorthøy] since the first record I released on Rune 11 years ago. When I signed there, cover art was one of the only things I couldn’t decide. They said, “Kim is making the covers, and he’s making them the way he wants. If you really hate it, you can tell me, and he’ll make another one, but if you just don’t like it, it’s not enough.” I was very cool with that because Kim is amazing. But I really wanted to have pictures on the covers. I talked to him about it, and he was cool about it. When we make new covers, we meet up, talk, maybe have a beer, hang around at some strange place. For the first cover, we did a lot of straight things. I showed him around my rehearsal room while he was taking photos. For the second, he came to a gig. For the third, we went to his very small studio. For the fourth, it was outside where I used to live. Then he came to the rehearsal space again. He’s into closed places.

When Maternity Beat came up, it was obvious it was something a little different, elevating on a philosophical level. I don’t know why, but I think he wanted to try another technique. He suggested we would do it in two processes. He would first take photos of me and then project it. I instantly liked that idea because it was very analog and something I could relate and connect to. He couldn’t fix it; he had to develop the film, make small [versions], and then we could meet up again. It was going to be a process that would take some time. I came back [to him] and brought my grandmother’s dress, and we tried different ways of projecting me on myself. It was another way of working with him. Of course, it took a lot more time, but it didn’t matter because it’s so nice to spend time with him. Whatever session I have with him, something extraordinary comes out of it. He has an eye for something else. He’s not looking for the face, or what the media tells us is beautiful. He’s looking for something very human, other structures in a photo. There’s so much to think about when I see all of his photos, which is so much better than having a big, fat face on the cover.

SILY: You mentioned “Do Re Mi Ma Ma” is a lot longer live. Are there any other stark differences between the recorded and live versions of these songs?

HM: Yeah. There are very many transitions that have been left out. There’s even a whole part with a lyric and an improvised piece that had to be left out because of time limitations both in the studio and on the vinyl. We haven’t performed this live more than twice, but it was a main idea to have transitions. “Do Re Mi Ma Ma” is one of them. There was a longer part in “On The Horizon, Part 1″ where Ingebjørg [Loe Bjørnstad] actually spoke in Norwegian. There was a solo bass transition at some point. For the record, I really wanted to shape and tighten things up because there was so much going on anyway. I was pleading on my knees to have a conductor. It was freaking impossible to play this piece and still get the most out of a horn section, putting them in where they were supposed to be. I was with the guitar in another room. We tried to do most of it as live as possible. But we had to move a little away from that because I couldn’t do all of those tasks. We [did get] a [conductor] who was working with the horn section--saxophone, trumpet, flute, and violin--and taking over the score. I really depended on him. He was really important in making the peaks as good as they are. I wouldn’t have managed to do that without him.

SILY: Do you have any upcoming dates playing this material?

HM: Yes, in a year. That’s because I have this big residency at a Norwegian festival in July, playing so many different shows with a lot of different projects. I’m going to have to work for 6 months. But next October, we’re going to have 5 shows in Europe. It could be that some of them have to be in Norway. It would be amazing to go to New York and play there. The Jazz Orchestra have played there. I really hope we can play this live.

SILY: Anything you’ve been listening to, reading, or watching lately?

HM: I’ve started to only read newspapers since February. I stopped reading news online. It got to me. [But my decision] freed up a space inside of me, not worrying as much. I feel happier.

I’ve been listening a lot to Led Zeppelin lately, as well as a lot of fellow musicians in Norway.

I’ve been touring a lot.

youtube

#interviews #hedvig mollestad #trondheim jazz orchestra #molde international jazz festival #Midtnorsk Jazzsenter #maternity beat #kim hiorthøy #rune grammofon #zoom #peppa pig #dag hoel #fred er ei det beste #scott walker #tilt #hedvig mollestad trio #Ingebjørg Loe Bjørnstad #led zeppelin

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

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Insanity

Prompt: Hi... I uh... I’m back, again anonymously.... to see if maybe... you could... write a thing? No pressure but if so... maybe a hurt/comfort?

Remus is used to dealing with feeling like he is loosing his mind on his own. Like he puts up an insane front so that the others don’t notice when he is loosing his grip on his sanity. Then he ends up laughing as he is falling apart and thinking that he has indeed found the real meaning of going insane. And he just laughs until it hurts and the laughing fades but the tears don’t stop. He’s thinking of doing something drastic like just running away to the subconscious so he doesn’t have to exist as a side anymore, but on his was he runs into Janus and Virgil or other people if ya want. Then they talk him down out of his insanity and realize remus needs a lot more help than they ever imagined.

I know this is a really long prompt and if you don’t wanna write it no pressure whatsoever. I just like your writing better than mine lol. Uh, thanks if you do and thanks for having boundaries if you don’t! <3

Thanks for the prompt!

Read on Ao3 Part 2 (ish)

Warnings: as you can guess, this revolves not just around Remus, but on intrusive thoughts. Self-harm, suicidal ideation, psychosis, insanity. There is a happy ending where our boi gets comforted and grounded, but the way to getting there ain’t pretty. Take care of yourselves please

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic, you decide

Word Count: 3864

Sometimes the world just fucking sucks.

Sometimes the world just really fucking hates him.

Sometimes the world just fucking sucks.

Remus doesn’t know why his brain decides that right fucking now is the perfect time to swan dive off a balcony into a wrought-iron fence, he just knows that the wind on his face cuts his cheek like ice because of how cold it is.

He doesn’t understand the compulsion to stride to the middle of a volcano and dive into the magma just to see how the lava flows on the inside, he just knows that the burn in his hands from being even this close to a volcano is only matched by the burn in his head to just fucking go.

He really doesn’t know how he ends up wanting to rip his brother apart, piece by piece, so he can see how every inch of his muscles work, he only knows that hat he’s got his arms tightly around Roman, it’s the most grounded he’s felt in fucking ages.

Sometimes the world just really fucking hates him.

The light switch would look perfect controlling the precise contractions of his organs. The bird that flies by outside the window tears his trachea out with its razor-sharp beak. The water bottle Patton uses would screw into his eye sockets until his corneas shattered.

Remus knows to laugh them off. They can’t hurt him, they’re his! His ideas! They’re supposed to be disgusting, revolting, it’s a good sign if it’s him they revolt too. After all, he’s sure as hell got higher standards.

On the other hand…is this what it fucking feels like?

The idea of using a knife sometimes makes it feels like ants are crawling through his bone marrow. The steel glints way too harshly in the light as he picks it up and suddenly all he can see is blood, blood, and more blood, cuts in his arms, throbbing muscle, it hurts, why doesn’t it hurt that bad, make it stop, make it go away —

Remus takes a deep breath and puts the knife down.

He’ll walk past a window on a bad day and all he can feel is glass, sharp glass, in his skin, in his eyes, in his tongue, broken glass, inside him, cutting little nicks and tears and it hurts, it won’t stop hurting, why can’t he taste the blood, what’s happening to him—

He draws the curtains and walks away without another word.

The Sides are all there in the living room and his hands itch for his morning star, for a sledgehammer, something, anything to break them apart, put them back together, stitch them up in horribly beautiful ways, listen to their screams as their vocal chords break, why can’t he hear them screaming, why are their screams so loud—

He smiles feebly and sinks out.

Remus curls up in his bed and howls, the room collapsing in on itself, pressing against his lungs. He keeps screaming and screaming and screaming until he’s laughing. He laughs. He keeps laughing until his voice dies in his throat. He keeps laughing.

Something has its wriggly little talons in his stomach and he can’t stop laughing. It hurts. He can’t breathe. He wants it to stop. He never wants to know what it’s like to laugh again. He never wants to stop laughing.

He wants it to stop.

He knows exactly what this fucking feels like.

He can’t open his eyes sometimes because he can’t look at what he knows will appear in front of him. He can’t close his eyes sometimes because he’s too terrified of what will be carved into the underside of his lids. He can’t speak because he knows what horrifying thing will tumble out of his mouth. He can’t stay quiet because he knows what happens when all the voices stay trapped in his head.

He can’t be because it hurts too much.

He can’t not be because then it will stop hurting.

The others don’t know about this. Of course they fucking don’t. They don’t listen to him when he fucking wants to talk to them about shit, why the fuck would they pay attention to the stuff he doesn’t want to tell them?

Patton doesn’t give a single flying fuck about him. He made that perfectly fucking clear.

Logan thinks he’s boring. That’s the most fucking offensive thing Remus has ever heard, and that’s fucking saying something.

Virgil’s a scaredy-cat. And he’s gotten boring to terrify. Virgil’s afraid of fucking everything.

Janus is so nuanced, it’s fucking annoying.

Roman’s his brother.

Remus growls and rocks himself faster, clutching the sides of his shirt until the fabric tears. He squeezes his eyes shut and ignores the pain in his ribs. The voices howl and cackle as the winds swirl around him. He ignores them as best he can.

It’s fucking cold in here and it’s too fucking hot.

They don’t see this part of the fucking mess that is Remus’s existence. They don’t see the un-fun parts of the crazy. They don’t see the reality of what Remus has to deal with.

They see the sex jokes, the crude puns, the horrible images he plants in their funny little heads. What must it be like in there, it must be so boring.

They don’t see the way he has to hold himself back from jumping onto every sharp object, throwing himself from every high height, digging his teeth into his own flesh and stripping it away from the bone.

Remus growls as he shoves the pillow between his teeth. The cotton tastes awful but it keeps his teeth away from his own tongue. He’d tried that once, tried biting it off, maybe the horrible taste of battery acid would leave his mouth if he had no tastebuds. He just wound up on the floor of the bathroom, vomiting up chunk after chunk until his tongue grew back, twitching against the roof of his mouth. He started biting the pillows after that.

It’s so fucking stupid, that they can’t fucking see this shit. He knows he can’t let them, he’s got fucking wires crawling around beneath his skin. He’s convinced of it. He can’t listen to Patton being condescending, he can’t listen to Logan flatly telling him he’s off his fucking rocker, he can’t listen to Virgil flip out at him, he can’t listen to Janus’s snide disapproval.

He can’t fuck up his brother.

So he just laughs.

Long and loud and hard and obnoxious because if they’re listening to the laughter they’re not listening to him.

There’s always going to be something they fucking want to pick on with him; they’re so fucking boring they can’t tolerate a little bit of difference. But if they start poking at his scars with their razor-long nails he’s going to rip open his skin and let the swarm of wasps inside him devour them whole. So he just laughs and laughs and lets them stare at him in disgust.

Disgust is better.

Sometimes his laughter is fucking hysterical, rising and rising and rising until they’re all screaming at him at the top of their lungs just to be heard. They say that he’s scaring them. Good. They should fucking be scared.

Sometimes his laughter is just in his head. They say they can’t hear him but he’s laughing. He’s laughing and they can’t hear him. Could they ever?

Sometimes he doesn’t realize it’s him. Someone will be laughing and they’ll all be glaring at him and oh, yeah, that’s him.

Sometimes he just can’t shut the fuck up.

Maybe it would be easier if he fucking could.

If he could shut his brain the fuck up for two goddamn seconds maybe he could actually make this work. Maybe he could be palatable enough to be tolerated. What does being tolerated feel like? What does it look like? Is it red, like blood, does it run in rivulets down his arms?

Is it dry, like the pillows? Does it just sit there in the corner, begging to be torn apart by razor-sharp teeth, or does it actively try to suffocate him as he wraps his mouth around words that won’t ever fit?

Or is it empty, hollow, like the blood vessels in his heart? Does it make him ache when a strong breeze blows by? Does it taste like steel, ozone, does it burn his tongue as he tries to breathe?

What does tolerance feel like, Remus wonders, because he’s all too familiar with isolation.

He’s never really alone. The voices won’t leave him be. They scream and cackle and whisper and taunt him with their awful, awful words and ideas and images and sensations. But he’s alone in every way that matters.

Except for the monsters.

He and Roman haven’t told the others about the Subconscious. It’s the one thing they’ve both consistently agreed on. The others don’t get to know about the Subconscious.

It’s not a nice place. It’s not even really a place. It’s a void, deep and vast, populated by things darker than darkness. The things in there are terrifying enough to make Remus’s skin crawl. They drag things down into the depths and rip them from the inside out, shredding tissues as they’re flipped inside out.

Monsters live in there.

Beasts. Creatures. Things.

They whisper to Remus sometimes. Their tongues are soaked in fear. Not Virgil’s type of fear, a thicker type of fear. It oozes out of their gaping maws and coats Remus’s limbs until he’s stuck, drowning in a tar pit. Insanity.

Sometimes he can struggle out of it.

Not this time.

The monster purrs in satisfaction as its shadows whip about the walls, crawling up to the ceiling, tapping their long, bony fingers against the very edges of the eye. His ribcage creaks, rent asunder by the sudden invisible weight. Dark passages yawn at the foot of his bed, around the fuzzy edges of the candle’s glow. Is there a candle in here? He’s not allowed a candle. Why is there a candle in here?

The shadows creep closer, up the long winding staircase—staircase? Where is he? Is he moving? Are they moving him?—through the banister, dancing up the curtain strings. There is insanity here, delectable, soaking through the walls, coloring the soft breaths that sigh in the still interior. The shadows creep closer, luxuriating in the darkness, the unseen. Remus stands at the brink of madness, teetering, awake, dripping head to toe in insanity.

A single candle burns atop the nightstand. He’s not allowed a candle. Its light flickers. His head pokes out above the sheets, fingers curled around its edge. He didn’t tuck himself in. He isn’t in bed. Yes, he is. The bed is standing up behind him. Now it’s lying down. He doesn’t know what’s real anymore.

He dares not move, lest the shadows hear him and find him, and yet he dares not close his eyes. A chill reaches a long finger through the window pane and lightly strokes the space between his shoulder blades. He keens.

The fingers lift his hairs to stand aloft, tugging them as if they are puppeteering his arms. They aren’t his arms. They never were. The chill cackles, diving to squeeze his legs, massaging its frigidity into his thighs. A knuckle comes up to trail along the soft skin under his arms, laughing as he curls up tight, trying to block the probing touches from snatching the rest of his warmth. He’s too warm. He’s too cold. The air atop him merely flutters, letting the chill dig and prod and one at him with its relentless talons. The insanity merely rumbles, soaking him to the bone. Is that what it wants? To steal his bones?

As the insanity drips through the air, it fills his ears, sending the shadows along the walls, up the ceiling, down beneath the skin. The light flickers. The insanity pours into his eyes. The chill rubs it in, still reaching wiggling fingers toward the soft meat of his tummy, blowing the insanity into ripples across his pupils. It reaches two fingers into his mouth, sliding across his tongue. As he gasps, it wriggles back under his arms and cackles anew. The insanity simply hums, sliding across his skin, down to pool in the hollow of his arms, nestled against his chest. Crueler hands dig into the meat at the back of his knees, the undersides of his rear, delighting in how he shivers. He whimpers. A knuckle runs over the very edge of him and lingers, coaxing the insanity to its wiggling lure.

The pit yawns beneath him, the monster voice luring him in, closer, deeper, come, down…

He does the only thing he can do.

He laughs.

Loudly. Heartily. He laughs so hard it bends him in half, cracking his spine. The sound scrapes along his throat. It rips spittle out of him, flying off into the darkness. He laughs. He laughs. He can’t stop laughing.

Spittle is joined by tears.

He can’t stop.

It won’t stop.

They won’t stop.

Nothing ever stops.

“Remus? Remus!”

“Jesus Christ, Remus, what’s going on?”

“Come away from there, sweetie, you’re going to fall.”

“Remus, come on, come here, listen to us, come on, you’re—you’re gonna fall.”

Hands wrap around his arms and yank, sending him hurtling back from the edge. He falls into something soft.

“Hey, hey,” comes the quiet growl, “hey, dude, it’s okay. Shh, shh, breathe, Remus, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Too late.

“You gotta breathe, man. It’s gonna be worse if you don’t.”

I can’t, Remus thinks frantically, I can’t breathe.

He’s still laughing. There are still tears running down his face.

“In and out, Remus, you can do it…”

Virgil? Is that Virgil? Isn’t Virgil scared of him? Why is Virgil here?

“There you go, Remus, it’s okay…” Virgil’s rubbing his arms. Arm? How many does he have? “It’s okay.”

Something hits his chest like a thunderclap and he gasps.

“That’s it, that’s it…it’s okay, Remus, it’s gonna be okay.” Something’s strangling him. No—no, trapping him. Also no. What’s happening? “You’re alright now, Remus.”

“V—Virgil?”

“Yeah, Remus, it’s me. J’s here too, it’s gonna be okay. We got you.”

Remus cranes his head backward to look up at what’s holding him. Janus smiles down at him, concern written plainly all over his face.

“Hey, sweetie,” he says softly, stroking Remus’s damp cheek, “you gave us quite the scare there.”

“S-scare?”

“You looked like you were hurting,” he says, not unkindly, “and that you were scared.”

Something twists in his gut.

“What would you know about being scared?”

To their credit, neither of them fucking blinks.

“I know that I care about you,” Janus murmurs, still cupping Remus’s face, “and that the thought of you falling into that pit scared me.”

“I care about you too,” Virgil says, “and you were hurting.”

“Everything hurts,” Remus hisses, yanking at Janus to get him to let go, “there are ants crawling around inside of me and monsters force-feeding me insanity.”

Virgil shoots Janus a worried look. Janus reaches behind them to fetch a tissue box, silently cleaning Remus’s face.

“It won’t stop,” he mutters, “it never stops.”

“What never stops, sweetie?”

“Everything.”

Janus glances up. Then back down.

“The others are worried,” he says softly, “they want to come see you. Should we let them?”

He can’t hold back the scoff. “Why would they care?”

“Because they care about you, sweetie, you’re important.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Of fucking course you are,” Virgil says immediately, “don’t say that.”

“You’ve got a fucking funny way of showing it,” Remus hisses, “you don’t want me around.”

“That’s not true!”

“Patton.”

“No, Logan! He doesn’t believe we care about him, let me go—“

“Patton?” Remus turns his head.

Patton…Patton is also crying?

The other Side drops to his knees in front of Remus, reaching out to catch another set of Remus’s tears in his palms. His lip wobbles, curling around Remus protectively.

“Of course we care about you, kiddo,” he manages, “you’re so wonderful.”

“You can’t fucking stand me.”

“I don’t understand you,” Patton corrects, “but I could never hate you. You’re so passionate. I love the way you love things.”

Fucking pause.

“You—you what?”

“I care about you, kiddo.” Patton presses his forehead against Remus’s. “Please don’t leave.”

What the fuck is going on? The monsters pull back, uncertain, but the ants have no such qualms. They burrow deeper into his bones, crawling through his muscles in searing agony.

“Remus,” Logan calls softly, “Remus, can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” he gasps, “yeah, I can hear you.”

“Good.” There’s a gentle hand under his chin. “What’s the matter?”

“There are ants in my bones and monsters trying to drown me in insanity.”

Logan just nods. He fucking nods. “Why do you think there are ants in your bones?"

“I can fucking feel them,” Remus growls, “they chewed through my veins. They’re in me.”

“Where do you think they started,” Logan says softly, “can you show me?”

Remus just lifts his wrists limply. Logan takes one in his hands, frowning in concentration as he runs his fingers gently over the skin.

“There aren’t any marks here,” he pronounces after a moment, “no holes, no bite marks.”

“There…there aren’t?”

“Not here.” Logan holds his hand out, palm up in offering. “Where else?”

He lays his other wrist shakily in Logan’s grip. He looks it over with the same attentive care, pronouncing no bite marks. No ants.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he promises, rubbing his thumb over the back of Remus’s hand, “is there anywhere else you’d like me to check?”

“Behind my ears,” he blurts before he can stop himself, “I—I can hear them.”

Logan nods and stretches his arm forward. “Come here, then.”

Has Logan always been this…soft? The gentle fingers pressing and stroking behind his ear, carding through his hair, have they always been so…kind?

“Would you like me to take a picture,” Logan whispers after a moment, “to show you there’s nothing?”

Remus nods. There’s a quiet click of the camera shutter.

“See?”

“…yeah. Yeah.”

“Anywhere else?”

“My back. My spine. It—it hurts.”

“May I have a look, then?”

Logan checks him over. Every single spot. He doesn’t once roll his eyes or huff that Remus is being ridiculous. He doesn’t scold him for it. He doesn’t pretend that the ants are real and he knows how to get them out. He doesn’t tell Remus that he’s going to be eaten alive from the inside.

He just…checks. Patiently and thoroughly. His hands are warm. His voice is quiet.

“I can have an x-ray ordered,” he says after he checks the last spot, “if you’re still unsure.”

“N-no,” Remus manages, shaking a little, “I—I believe you.”

Logan nods. He reaches out to cup Remus’s chin again. “Are you alright?”

Is he?

Has he ever been?

“N-no.”

“That’s okay.” Logan smiles—fucking smiles—at him and glances up at the others. “Can I show them how to check for you, in case it happens again?”

The question shocks him to his core. He barely has the wherewithal to nod.

Logan’s hands are back on his skin, turning and pointing carefully. He can feel their eyes on him as he works. Janus gently undoes the top of Remus’s collar so they can make sure his neck is clear as well.

“Roman?”

Remus’s heart sinks.

“Roman, do you want to see how to—Roman, what are you doing?”

Remus peers nervously over his shoulder to see Roman standing in front of the pit. From the line of his shoulders, he can see how tense Roman is. His hands are shaking.

“...Roman?”

He turns. His face is deathly pale. His gaze finds Remus and he swallows heavily.

“…Re?”

“Roman?” Remus swallows. Is that what his voice sounds like? “Ro?”

“Were you…” Roman glances over his shoulder. “Did you…?”

Shame.

Shame bubbles up so fast it springs hot, guilty tears behind Remus’s eyes. He ignores the worried noises from the others as he slumps.

A truly wounded noise comes from in front of him as Roman barrels forward, knocking his brother flat on his ass and wrapping his arms so tightly around him that Remus gasps awake.

Warm. Real. Roman. Roman is here, Roman is safe, Roman cares about him, Roman is fucking here. He lets out a cry of his own and clings to his brother.

“Not one of them is gonna touch you,” Roman swears, his voice shaking, “you hear me? I’ll gut them myself. They’ll have to get through me before they can even touch you.”

“I know, Ro—I know—“

“Swear to me,” Roman whispers frantically, “tell me you know I would never have let them take you. Tell me you know I’d’ve torn that place apart just to get you back.”

“I know, Roman, I—I—“

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, Re, I can’t take it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you, you’re staying right here—“ Roman holds him tighter and it’s the good kind of sore—“right fucking here.”

Distantly, he hears Janus chuckle and there’s another warm swirl across his back. He looks up from the crook of Roman’s neck to see Logan settling in, reaching out to give them a hug. Janus sits behind him. Virgil and Patton grab blankets and join the pile.

It’s…it’s good.

“Listen to us,” Roman keeps whispering, “not them. They’re not gonna lay a hand on you. We got you, Remus, we’ll keep you.”

“Gonna keep me?”

“Always, Re.”

“R-Roman—“

“Let it out, Remus, come on. We’re not going anywhere.”

Remus cries.

Sometimes the world just fucking sucks.

But sometimes, as Patton ruffles his hair, as Virgil leans his head on his shoulder, as Janus rubs a hand across his tummy, as Logan starts talking very softly, as Roman holds him tight, sometimes it doesn’t.

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delimeful · 4 years ago

Text

the end of being alone (3)

Ch 1 | Ch 2 |

warning: mentions of fear, crocodiles, discussion of teeth

Logan found himself grateful that he’d made arrangements to postpone their other jobs for a bit, because it looked as though they’d be staying firmly on this planet’s surface for a while.

There had been all of one attempt to bring Virgil aboard the Mindscape, and it had resulted in a significant amount of crying from both the child and Patton. Whatever circumstances had led the Human to this planet, it had left them deeply fearful of any sort of spacefaring vessel.

… This did not annul Logan’s suspicions about smuggling, though he was careful not to say as much in front of Virgil. The child was keen, and any time the fact that they were a Human was mentioned, they withdrew and began displaying body language that Logan believed indicated a desire to flee. Checking that exits were still there, putting space between themself and any of the Mindscape’s crew, anxious tics, and so forth.

Needless to say, they avoided the topic.

However, to Logan’s surprise, the child didn’t seem at all adverse to basic questions about themself. Understanding their responses was rare, of course, but the kid was picking up on Common with a shocking quickness, and Roman had turned out to be rather talented at interpreting their gestures when they didn’t have the right words.

The data that Logan had collected from these inquiries was both strange and intriguing. He’d carefully woven a mental list of it all.

1. Virgil seemed to identify by he/him, though whether that was an actual gender preference or simply a child wanting to be called the same pronouns as the three of them was up for debate. Either way, Logan seriously doubted that there was any way to convey the nebulous concept of gender through a language barrier, so he let the matter lie.

2. After eating too fast, Virgil would convulse slightly in a semi-rhythmic pattern for a short period. He didn’t seem alarmed or pained by this, only slightly irritated when it would interrupt him mid-sentence. The condition of ‘hiccups’ was thankfully temporary, since it made Roman quite jumpy. For their tiny, squeaking nature, Patton had called them ‘hicchirps’, which was ridiculous, but Virgil seemed to enjoy any and all wordplay that made it through his grasp of the language, so Logan stowed his complaints.

3. Virgil was terrified of the locals. Despite being plainly evident, this observation didn’t make sense at first, seeing as the nearby town consisted primarily of native Hiiynal and a few offplanet transfers, none of which could be described as particularly dangerous or violent. After a few days of gentle questioning and no reprimands for not answering, Virgil finally told them that the locals would ‘chase monsters far away’ and so he couldn’t risk getting near. Questioning was temporarily halted in favor of showing the Human the art of shadow symmetry, for purely scientific reasons, of course.

(Supposition: Human children enjoyed movement games.)

4. While the synthetic meat from the ration kits was accepted by Virgil, he showed a surprising preference for sweeter food items, such as fruit and sugar crystals. Seeing as Humans were rumored to be obligate carnivores or even raw flesh-eaters, this was a strange discrepancy. Virgil had even eaten some of the leafy vegetables Logan had brought, face pinched up in disgust but insisting that eating ‘greens’ would make one tall. It was unclear to Logan what color had to do with nutrients or growth. He was also slightly alarmed at the implication of Virgil being short for his age.

5. Virgil seemed, for all intents and purposes, fixated on Roman.

The latest data point was a work in progress. Logan hadn’t mentioned it to Roman himself, because the Cravon was already fairly worked up over everything the Human did as it was. Nobody seemed sure if this jumpiness was because of the Human child, or on behalf of it.

Still, it was present in little ways. For example, even as he answered Logan’s latest series of questions, his gaze would occasionally flicker up from his hands to Roman, who sat at the mouth of the little cave, carefully peeling more fruit. It wasn’t about the food; Patton had taken it upon himself to make sure the child knew he only had to ask to get something to eat. No, this ‘almost-staring’ was a frequent occurrence, no matter what Roman preoccupied himself with.

“You were saying you met… Susan… when another predator was attacking it?”

Virgil nodded, hurriedly looking back to his hands. “It was a big bite monster, and Susan was loud crying, so I did, uh,” he lifted his arms up, hands spread wide, “this, and I was loud at it until it ran away. Like raccoons back on Dirt.”

Dirt was apparently Virgil’s name for his home. Logan hadn’t heard of ‘raccoons’ before. He decided not to get sidetracked. “I’d estimate the creature you saw was a Lifel. They are the natural predators of Humlilts.”

“Natural?” Virgil mimicked.

“It means ‘of nature’,” Logan attempted to clarify, gesturing around them. “In the wild.”

Virgil only grew more confused with the wide, encompassing gesture. “Sky? Was not flying.”

Logan glanced at Roman, checking that he was still preoccupied. Patton was back at the ship, contacting a friend for advice. There seemed no better opportunity if he wanted to avoid overwhelming Virgil.

“Virgil, would you like to try something new?” he asked, carefully neutral. It wouldn’t do to put any pressure on the child.

The Human squinted at him slightly, quick to use his most common phrase. “Will it hurt?”

“It will not hurt,” Logan replied, ignoring the tightening in his core with careful practice. It always felt so wrong, that a mere pupa would be so familiar with hurt. “I will always tell you if something might hurt.”

“Mmm.” The Human hummed, the way he always did when they told him such things. Like he wasn’t sure if he could believe it. “What’s it?”

“What is it,” Logan corrected automatically. “It is something I can do, to show you new words. Want to try a little bit, first?” That was the phrase they used for new foods, but it applied well enough to mindsharing.

Virgil clenched and unclenched his hands for a moment longer before nodding, going a little tense like he expected something unpleasant. Logan held a hand out to him, waiting until he’d reached out in return to start sharing.

Small, simple flashes of images and sensations. Quiet forests, shallow oceans, clean air. Plants, bugs, animals, humanoids, living and dying and living again. Nature.

Virgil had pinched his eyes closed immediately at the start of the low-level telepathy, and Logan only had a moment to worry that maybe it had hurt him in some manner.

Then, there was a feeling of recognition. Without a moment to spare, Virgil had grasped the nature of the Vidi and was projecting his own thoughts. Walking on a crunchy leaf-covered trail with other Human young, a winged insect emerging from a cocoon, the crack of thunder and heavy rain on a windowsill. Nature.

“Wow!” Virgil whispered, imprint thoughts flickering like flames, too quick for Logan to really see. “You see into heads!”

Logan pulled back slightly, offering a bit of content-smug in return to the Human’s awe. “That is one way of framing it, yes. So, you understand what I mean, about the Lifel being a natural predator?”

“Carnivore,” Virgil mumbled, and then offered image-thoughts of several creatures that Logan could only assume were from the deathworlder’s home planet. He watched with morbid curiosity as Virgil remembered a clip from a screen, displaying large ungulates with twisting horns crossing a river, and then being dragged underwater by a dark, writhing shape.

“That’s a crocodile,” Virgil told him, his eyes still closed tight in concentration. “They’ve got big teeth and they do death rolls. They look like alligators, but I know they aren’t because gators live in Florida.”

“Florida?” Logan asked. He wondered if perhaps ‘gators’ were kept in captivity for species preservation. Or perhaps they were too dangerous left in the wild?

Virgil showed him a memory of a long, reptilian form with a narrow, tooth-filled jaw. It was wading steadily through a swimming pool, not paying any mind to Virgil, who was sitting with his legs dipped in the pool, watching in fascination. “I lived there!”

“Oh,” Logan managed, his ears going numb with fear at the idea of a child being so near a creature like that. “So it would seem.”

The Human patted him carefully, a gesture of comfort. “It’s okay. The bad guys didn’t take any gators or crocodiles from Dirt. Just people.”

Virgil’s words trailed off, a sense of melancholy overwhelming him. Rather than find out more about the Human’s past, Logan felt an unreasonably strong urge to stop that sadness. “Could you perhaps tell me more about these… ‘crocodiles’? You seem to be quite informed on them.”

“I had a book about them,” Virgil managed, slowly dragging his thoughts away from his abduction. “Did you know some crocodiles have a… a ‘biting force’ of five thousand pounds?”

He had lapsed into English, the sentence sounding well-recited, but Logan still got the general idea of what he meant, and a strong image of a picture book, covered in writing he couldn’t read but still understood. If Logan was right about the measurement conversions, the fact was terrifying.

“That’s very interesting,” he mused, because terrifying and interesting often went hand in hand. “Are there any other predators that can bite like that?”

Virgil scrunched his face up in thought. “Maybe sharks. Oh, but for sure a T. Rex!”

Logan saw a very concerning glimpse of a large fish with too many teeth before Virgil’s mind switched to a cartoon depiction of a larger creature with also too many teeth. He was beginning to see a trend in deathworlder species. “I… see.”

“They’re all dead, though,” Virgil told him sadly, projecting a memory of a huge display of bones. He then seemed to perk up, glancing over at Roman again. “Except for in space!”

Logan narrowly avoided laughing out loud, covering his throat before the vibrating chirps could get far. So, this was the truth behind the Human’s interest!

“Roman is not a ‘dinosaur’,” he clarified, once he felt composed enough to do so. “In fact, I believe he rarely even eats meat.”

Virgil squinted at him. “Are you sure? Maybe he’s a secret dinosaur.”

Logan wiggled his fingers thoughtfully. “I suppose we’ll just have to check.”

---

“Roman, would you come here for a moment?”

Roman looked up from his task, immediately suspicious. Logan sounded strangely amused, like he was on the brink of laughing at him. That was never a good sign.

Still, the Human was looking over at him with those wide, strange eyes, and he wasn’t about to run away. He got to his feet, leaving his pile of dana peels behind as he crossed the cave floor. “What is it, dear esteemed companion who would never take advantage of me?”

“I need you to show us your teeth,” Logan said, very much not being a dear esteemed companion who would never take advantage of him. Roman resisted the urge to hang his head in resignation. He should have expected this. The Ulgorii was shameless when it came to exploiting his friends for science.

“How about absolutely not?” he replied, because there were actually limits to his tolerance for shenanigans, and one of those limits was threat-displaying at a baby Human.

“Hold on, look,” Logan said, and then bared his own ridged teeth with a click.

The Human did his small grimace-smile back, entirely unphased. They both looked to him expectantly. Roman felt as though he was being ganged up on.

“Um,” Virgil said, painfully tentative, “please?”

Roman felt extremely ganged up on.

He squatted, tail keeping him perfectly balanced, and pulled at the corner of his mouth to show some of his teeth.

“Woah,” Virgil breathed.

“See how the back teeth are narrow but dull? They’re designed to crack bones and get to the marrow at the center,” Logan narrated, like the nerd he was. “Roman doesn’t have the small incisors or sharp molars required for proper full-time carnivores.”

Roman almost reminded his crewmate to use small words, but Virgil seemed to get the idea, leaning uncomfortably close to stare. He then opened his own mouth, like he was planning to take a bite out of something, displaying a shocking number of tiny little bone-teeth crammed inside. Some of them were uncomfortably sharp.

Rather than attack anyone, though, Virgil touched his own teeth, carefully inspecting the shape of them. Roman resisted the urge to get him to sanitize his hands. Kits would be kits, he supposed.

Logan was patiently watching as Virgil pointed to each tooth in turn, and he obligingly recited the name of each type of tooth for the kit. His two lower arms took frantic notes on Human jaw structure, probably to prepare more elaborate meal plans better suited to a deathworlder diet. The kid soaked every bit of information in like a sponge.

Finally, after a long moment of thought, he announced, “My ‘lower canine’ is going to fall out in close time!”

“Soon,” Logan offered, always quick to interpret the Human’s occasional nonsense Common. “'My lower canine is going to fall out soon.'” And then, after a moment’s pause. “Wait, it’s going to what?”

And then, because Roman’s day needed more nightmare fuel, the kit bared his tiny fangs at them and poked one with his tongue, revealing that it did indeed seem to be sickeningly loose. In fact, Roman could see a few other gaps in the curved row of teeth, some with little bits of bone peeking out.

“Stars above,” Roman said, feeling a little faint. Logan was already interrogating a very confused Virgil on whether or not losing teeth was indicative of an illness or not.

“They’re just my little teeth,” Virgil told them, seemingly unconcerned with holes in his mouth. “I get big ones later.”

“There are plenty of species that have milk teeth, but to have their adult set not fully-formed by the time the milk teeth are ready to fall out…,” Logan quickly devolved into muttering, hands flicking.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Roman asked despite himself, eyeing the kit just in case he was going to burst into tears all of the sudden. Roman himself had lost one or two front teeth before his next set had fully formed, and each time it had felt like biting on hot metal.

“Nuh-uh.” Virgil seemed to have moved from confused to amused, still not entirely sure what the fuss was all about. “Not unless I,” he mimed pulling on the tooth, and Roman made a click-click-click of parental don’t-do-that chiding before he’d even fully registered the alarm he’d felt at the motion.

Virgil clicked back at him curiously, sounding exactly like a tiny version of an exasperated parent. Roman tucked his face against his shoulder, unsure if he should laugh or despair.

This Human was really going to be the death of him.

#sanders sides #space au #ts virgil #ts roman #ts logan #teoba #the end of being alone #writing #my writing #crocodiles #raccoon #you all wanted baby teeth and so baby teeth you shall receive #ask to tag

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