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jallieae · 3 years ago

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Lore/Meta Analysis Time

So, after watching all four of today’s streams, I’m left wondering and theorizing about a few things. Mainly, why make the choice to have c!Dream fake an escape? Why not, a) go through with it, or b) leave off on c!Techno escaping back to the Syndicate HQ?

Personally, I think that the whole point was to get the audience familiarized with the protocols of what would happen if c!Dream escapes -- like what the alarm sounds like for example, as Quackity continuously brought up Sam’s alarm even outside of complaining about the volume -- that way when c!Dream does escape -- whether or not c!Techno breaks him out -- there will be doubt about it, and the audience will have context needed to make the moment more impactful.

I think it was smart to tease the escape, that way the audience knows what an actual escape will look like and that way the prison arc is pushed back into relevancy after three months of no lore. It’s a brilliant segway on the cc’s part to get things heating up again without chucking a huge escape on an audience who has been in a lore drought for so long, and it also opened up a lot of possibilities for future lore for many characters. As of right now, c!Dream’s escape might stay limited to the Las Nevadas crew, or the news might just spread to others if c!Sam keeps his word not to spill about c!Dream’s actual whereabouts, which can pull in other characters like Tommy, Ranboo, Wilbur, and hopefully also people like Niki and Eret and Sapnap who haven’t really dipped into the prison arc at all (and I know cc!Eret wanted back into lore and this could be a good opportunity!)

Bouncing off that, I think it’s super interesting that c!Dream does not want c!Quackity to know he is alive and contained. While he says he is afraid of c!Quackity killing him, I doubt that’s why. I think that c!Dream knows how to play to c!Sam’s weaknesses a lot better than he does c!Quackity. c!Quackity is much more resistant to c!Dream’s tactics, or at least better at recognizing them. He also has less weaknesses that c!Dream can exploit verbally, whereas c!Sam has made it clear that he still harnesses a lot of guilt and anger about c!Tommy and what c!Dream did to him. c!Quackity has also exploited this guilt before to manipulate c!Sam into letting him bring weapons into the prison -- it works well. With c!Sam isolated away from c!Quackity’s influence, he is much easier for c!Dream to manipulate, and he might even start falling back into his previous, more detached Warden persona, which would be even better for c!Dream. With c!Quackity out of the picture, c!Sam has succeeded in isolating himself both to c!Dream and also to the responsibility of keeping c!Dream in check. While his resilience seems strong so far, likely fueled by anger about c!Tommy, only time can tell whether or not that will hold true.

But what does c!Dream want from c!Sam in that scenario? I think it’s literally to go to the courtyard like he asked. He pitched it in a way that made it seem like he was yearning for the sun again, and he exaggerated the isolation by bringing up the other inhumane protocols of the prison like the food of choice. While c!Sam called him on his bullshit, c!Dream admitted that he didn’t think he’d end up in the cell, which I think is true. I think that he predicted he might need to get out of the prison somehow, but not that he’d end up in the maximum security cell, and that that failsafe is planted in the courtyard that c!Sam shut down because of a vague “security issue.” We also know that c!Dream left c!Techno coordinates that lead to a chest containing blueprints and a note. These are likely c!Dream’s original blueprints, as this stream it was stressed about c!Dream’s immense involvement in designing the prison. And it likely contains an escape route linked to the courtyard, or something of the other. I doubt it’d be something like a stasis chamber, as that’d be kind of lazy. Not to mention that that would also eliminate the use of actual blueprints. If c!Techno goes forward with busting c!Dream out, I think it’ll be after c!Dream whittles down c!Sam’s resilience and pleads his way into the courtyard somehow. It’s simply been teased too much both on Twitter, by c!Quackity as he tried to get out of the prison, and c!Dream himself. I’m willing to bet that c!Dream either called in his favor, or exploited c!Techno’s firm belief in absolute reciprocity in order to get c!Techno to break him out, as the favor was mentioned by either c!Sam or c!Quackity (can’t remember.)

And then let’s move onto to c!Quackity, who’s dead set on c!Dream going after Las Nevadas once he’s out. And while I have no doubt that that is one of c!Dream’s priorities -- he is very good at exploiting specific weaknesses, and he knows that c!Quackity has lost basically every home he’s ever had -- I think that c!Quackity’s paranoia was a massive red herring as to what c!Dream actually will make his first priority. cc!Sam mentioned that Logstedshire would become plot-relevant again, and c!Tommy was brought up a lot during the stream, and so I think that while the narrative may paint it in a way that seems like c!Dream and c!Quackity are going to have some sort of war (or battle, if c!Quackity’s “battle log” is any indication), I think that that is just smoke and mirrors for the actual outcome. I have no doubt that c!Tommy is definitely about to be targeted, especially as c!Sam continues to bring up c!Dream’s treatment of c!Tommy, which he can likely spin into c!Tommy’s fault for him being subject to that in the first place. This would likely drag c!Wilbur back into the mix if c!Dream goes after c!Tommy, because the whole “Dream is my hero thing” has been set up to get challenged, and without c!Tommy blantantly dropping the details of exile onto c!Wilbur, I can’t see what would be a better challenge then c!Dream literally being out and c!Wilbur having to deal with that as well.

But yeah, this is basically my predictions as to where the SMP is going from here, at least involving Las Nevadas and the prison arc. Hopefully we’ll see many other arcs and characters get intertwined with this. It’d be a cool parallel to the end of the Disc War finale, and hopefully the Syndicate won’t erase all of the characters’ development in order to make it some epic Dream & Syndicate vs. Tommy, Las Nevadas, and etc. It would be cool though for c!Phil and c!Techno to go through with breaking c!Dream out and then regretting or seeing why they definitely shouldn’t have done that. Maybe we can even have some Bedrock Bros content since there have been tons of parallels and contrasts with c!Techno being imprisoned with c!Dream and c!Tommy being imprisoned with c!Dream (like the dog, for example. Also the motif of hope being inside of Pandora’s vault/box). Also please give us some exile arc details reveal or Dream’s mega evil plan for server control reveal (to Techno + Syndicate specifically) because I have wanted this for monthssss. c!Techno you want to realize that c!Dream literally wanted to take Carl from you soooooo bad.

TL;DR: This lore stream was epic and I think it’s a huge setup for some other major events and it also gave us so much character insight that I am actually vibrating with theory overload as I write this.

#dream smp #dream smp analysis #dream smp lore

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agent-cupcake · 5 years ago

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Dimitri and mental illness

**Warnings for Blue Lions spoilers and armchair psychology

Depending on who you ask, Dimitri is an innocent sweetheart whose actions are entirely excusable and justified or an unforgivable war criminal and overall terrible character. Arguments for both sides have been exhausted, usually in the form of the popular Edelgard versus Dimitri debate, but I feel that both statements are heavily flawed and, truthfully, I think I take more issue with the former. Does it strike anyone else as rather patronizing that the audience (and the game, to an extent) treats Dimitri like an innocent, broken uwu soft boy both before the time skip and once he begins his recovery arc? Of course, a lot of this can be blamed on the awful pacing and poor writing of said recovery (which is the most valid structural critique of his character imo), but there’s a lot to be said about the fan depiction of Dimitri and the way people treat his mental illness. I think the reason this gets me is because I see it as an extension of the problems I have with the romanticization of male-specific mental illness. In this case, “all depressed boys are emasculated, soft, sad bois” and “anger is an accessory that is vanished once the cute boy takes it off” with the related sentiment of “the only two real mental illnesses are depression and anxiety, with a splash of PTSD for argument's sake”. And, speaking of arguments, while many people bring up mental illness in regards to the discussion around Three Houses characters, it is often supplementary to support their points rather than the main point unto itself. Dimitri’s mental illness (aka, the thing his entire arc is predicated upon) is mostly given only a passing recognition in the discussion of his actions. Even then, it’s often used as a justification to defend or lambaste him.

TL;DR Dimitri is a flawed person with a debilitating and incredibly well written mental illness that, while not excusing his actions, allows for further exploration of his character and a well-deserved shot at a recovery arc that is not usually awarded to people with the “non-traditional” mental illnesses. Furthermore, the game offers a wealth of insight as to what they intended his mental illness to be, the symptoms that manifested, and a plausible background to match up with it all and I have the receipts to prove it. Let’s go~

“Me? Oh. Um. Please forgive me... It's difficult to open up on the spot, don't you think? I'm afraid my story has not been a pleasant one... I do hope that doesn't color your view of me, but I understand if that can't be helped.”

I know that mental illness can be singularly caused by a traumatic event or events. That is, generally, how I see people framing Dimitri’s mental illness. My argument, however, is that the Tragedy of Duscur was not the genesis, but the trigger for issues that would exist otherwise. Perhaps it’s due to my own personal experience with mental illness, but I’m almost always more inclined to believe that issues stem from an unlucky combination of many things.

Regardless, my evidence to entertain the idea that he would be naturally predisposed to mental illness is slim. Aside from arguing that it wouldn’t be out of the question for his mother to have been unwell while she was pregnant with him considering she would later die of plague (a cause that in and of itself is subject to skepticism), I would bring up his Crest. In-game there is clear proof that Crests have wide-reaching effects on the person, there are actually a few analysis posts that hypothesize that Crests could be the reason for certain character motivations. In ng+, the Crest of Blaiddyd is called the Grim Dragon Sign. There’s no definitive proof to point to here, but if his Crest was one of the reasons for his mental deterioration it would follow other rules set in-game. Rather than inherited human genetics creating the blueprint for mental issues and the writers having to face that issue on its own terms, it was the Crest’s influence. This goes along with the fact that the game never overtly references Dimitri’s illness, essentially using “the dead” as a blanket symptom of his problems. Both these things are cool ways to imply a possible way to read more deeply without having to use anachronistic medical terms.

Side note: There’s something uncomfortable about the idea of a Crest that gives the individual inhuman strength and mental issues. Grim Dragon indeed.

My next point is one that I don’t see being brought up too often in regards to how it might have affected Dimitri, likely because the events that came later in his life far overshadow it, but Dimitri lost his mom when he was young. The date is not given, but I think it’d be when he was about six-ish. Admittedly, the timeline is strange and non-specific around here but if that were true, it would mean that the plague, Dimitri’s mother’s death, and Lambert and Rodrigue’s war campaign to subjugate the southern half of Sreng would all have happened around the same time. Dimitri says he doesn’t remember it, but that doesn’t necessarily matter. At six years old he had lost one parent and the other one left him to go on a battle march, leaving this child without any sort of parent figure to console him in a country that is culturally opposed to expressing emotion. Lambert will probably always remain a mystery, but I think it could be fair to say he was a poor father. Or at the very least a distant one. Dimitri was undoubtedly a sensitive child (if we’re to judge by the sensitive person he grew up to be) and during the years where he was actually becoming old enough to remember, he had nobody to teach him how to properly navigate and manage his emotions. Emotional neglect in a child who is predisposed to being emotional and empathetic can leave them suffering from a sense of isolation, an inability to ask for help, and a predisposition to having break downs as they get older.

But three-ish years later, possibly one of the best things that ever would happen to Dimitri came to pass and Lambert married Patricia. Dimitri adored her.

“I share no blood with my stepmother, but to hear you say that... It pleases me greatly. She was the one who raised me. I suppose it makes sense that we would share certain mannerisms.” (Dimitri’s B support with Hapi)

I don’t think Dimitri’s feelings about Patricia can be overstated, as I feel it’s one of the most defining aspects of his reactions to things that happen later on. Dimitri talks about Patricia more lovingly than he talks about Lambert. She was in his life for around four to five years but had such an impact on him that even his mannerisms are similar.

Soon after, a ten-year-old Dimitri made his first friend that wasn’t knightly, who didn’t embody those Faerghus ideals of stifling emotions and swinging swords.

People point out the Faerghus crew as Dimitri’s best friends, and yet Edelgard is the one associated with his best memories. It’s just my own assumptions, but I think that it’s because both Edelgard and Patricia gave Dimitri space to be an emotional child, to not have to be the knightly prince who had no emotions and engaged only in the most masculine of activities. And, I mean, look at them. He’s learning to dance and she’s bossing him around, absolutely no regard for propriety.

It’s pretty clear that Dimitri doesn’t feel romantic feelings towards Edelgard in the academy phase, but I think it would be fair to say she was his first love when they were young. He essentially says this was the best year of his life and establishes Edelgard as someone very precious to him (as well as the daughter of one of the most precious people to him). Strong feelings beget strong feelings, do they not?

Google says that eleven to fourteen is the general age of male puberty. It’s the time that kids begin to more fully define how they’re going to emotionally interact with people and the world at large. Meeting Edelgard was at the cusp of this period of Dimitri’s life, and the Tragedy of Duscur was right in the midst of it.

And we all know what that turned out.

Dimitri’s accounts of what happened during the Tragedy are... conflicting. This CG of an unharmed Dimitri in a field of corpses is... conflicting.

“My father...was the strongest man I knew. Someone I loved and admired deeply. That said, he was killed before my eyes. His head severed clean off. My stepmother, the kindest person I had ever known, left me behind and disappeared into the infernal flames.”

I’ve seen people create a plausible scenario in which Dimitri’s recollection is entirely accurate, where he saw Lambert call for revenge and get beheaded, saw Glenn’s ruined body and face twisted in pain, saw his step-mother disappear into the flames, and all despite the raging chaos of the battle and how people would undoubtedly be targeting the prince, but I think it makes more sense that his memories are unreliable. Dimitri suffered a severe head injury (very important to keep in mind) at Duscur. Maybe that happened early on, after seeing who attacked Lambert but before he was an actual target himself, which merely made him look dead. Maybe he saw a version of the events he described, but through the filter of confused head trauma, smoke inhalation, and intense terror. To think that his recollection isn’t exactly entirely reliable sets a precedent for his later skewed take on reality.

Regardless of opinion, though, the facts are that Dimitri left Duscur with a traumatic brain injury and post-traumatic stress disorder.

After that, from thirteen to seventeen, Dimitri was pretty isolated. Most of the people he cared about were dead. His entire emotional support system (Patricia) was gone. He saved Dedue (although they were definitely not on even terms, that relationship is unbalanced to the extreme) and occasionally saw Rodrigue (who I have no reason to believe was emotionally accommodating in any way considering the way he sees Dimitri as an extension of Lambert to his dying breath). Again, it’s strange. People act like Dimitri was super close friends with the Faerghus crew, that he was surrounded by people who loved him (although it is clear there is a lot of love there), but he never presents things in a way to imply that’s the case. In fact, he highlights his isolation:

“In Duscur, I lost my father, stepmother, and closest friends. I didn't have many allies at the castle after that. In truth, I had only Dedue for companionship.”... “I once had people I could confide in. Family, friends, instructors, even the royal soldiers. But they were all taken away from me four years ago.” (Dimitri’s C support with Byleth.)

Two years passed before the next time Dimitri saw his friends and it was a war campaign, putting down the rebellion in western Faerghus. Dimitri speaks about those battles from a place of deeply affected emotion, expressing empathy, pain, and disgust with his actions and the killing.

“I recall coming across a dead soldier's body. He was clutching a locket. Inside was a lock of golden hair. I don't know to whom it belonged. His wife, his daughter...mother, lover... I'll never know.... in that moment, I realized he was also a real person, just like the rest of us… Killing is part of the job, but even so... There are times when I'm chilled to the bone by the depravity of my own actions.” (Dimitri’s B Support with Byleth)

I love this support, honestly. It’s so very telling about the destructive quality of empathy. Although caring can be a good thing, it’s also arguably one of the most destructive of Dimitri’s qualities. His empathy is what presents him with situations he cannot accept, the thing that pushes him to disassociate from reality so he can be rid of it and fight without remorse like he was taught to do by his father and other soldiers. Dimitri is a man of extremes. Either total control or none, without any room for error. This dialogue is also the first time Dimitri brings up reconciling himself with reality and hints to the fact that he has been unable to do so. This is contrasted perfectly in this line from Felix,

“The way you suppressed that rebellion... It was ruthless slaughter and you loved every second. I remember the way you killed your victims. How you watched them suffer. And your face...that expression. All the world's evil packed into it...” (Dimitri’s C Support with Felix)

Dimitri doesn’t deny this. Just like all of the other terrible things Felix says, he takes it without protesting in an act of what I think is stilted contrition. Although, it’s not just in supports that Dimitri’s contrasting behavior is brought up. The Remire incident probably works as a good reference for what Felix saw all those years back.

This is the first time we see Dimitri’s darker side in full. The similarities in the situation to what is shown to have happened in the Tragedy of Duscur are interesting. The fire, the utter chaos, strange figures watching it all from above. This is another case of a perfect disaster. I wonder if his ultimate snap would have been so destructive if not for Remire.

Anyway, this draws parallels to his and Felix’s separate recall of the rebellion because later Dimitri apologizes.

“Professor... I...I'm sorry you saw that side of me in the village… When I saw the chaos and violence there...my mind just went completely dark.”

Dimitri is unreliable. A lack of control, a separation of self, and becoming consumed by a dark rage only to come to his senses later, full of shame and a sense of confusion about why. From my own experience, it’s not unnatural to come out of an episode like this without being able to explain what was happening and being baffled by your behavior. This firmly establishes Dimitri’s uncomfortably fast mood shifts in relation to his trauma from the Tragedy and confirms all of the warnings Felix had given. When Dimitri was faced with a reality he could not accept, he lost control of his emotions and his mental state shifted to adapt accordingly.

This is when I’d also like to note something interesting about how Dimitri discusses his trauma. He is very honest and open about his experiences, explaining exactly what happened to him to Byleth. However, he uses the truth to hide. In recounting the events of the Tragedy of Duscur, in talking about how his family died and saying how badly it hurt him, he does not make himself vulnerable. When he admits weakness, he does so in the past tense or apologetically, vowing to be stronger. “Stronger”, aka, he’ll be better in suppressing his emotions.

“I always strive to keep my emotions at bay, but... Sometimes the darkness takes hold and...it's impossible to suppress. It just shows you how lacking I am... I have much to learn.”

Dimitri lies by using the truth, shoving down his feelings, and blaming himself rather than attempting to figure out how to handle his emotions. In his own words:

“Everyone has something that is unacceptable within them. I certainly do, and I'd wager you do as well. I wonder which is best, Professor... To cut away that which is unacceptable, or to find a way to accept it anyway...”

Good advice Dimitri. Might want to keep that in mind.

It is at this point is when I’m going to get into my personal thoughts and armchair psychiatry nonsense.

First off, when I mentioned earlier about “non-traditional” mental illness, I did not mean abnormal or rare. Although people mostly just point to Dimitri having PTSD (and depression) as the source of his issues, I’m going to use all of my above information to make the (decently common) argument that Dimitri is schizophrenic, which is, contrary to popular belief, not too unusual. I state that with the caveat that I understand that there’s a lot to be said about schizophrenia and the tumultuous relationship between mental health and fiction. However, now is not really the time to go into mental health politics and representation or the many lies spread about the illness so instead, I recommend that you read into the topic if you’re personally interested (This has some good information).

At the very least be aware that this IS sensationalized.

That said, Dimitri does not, to my understanding using grossly simplified terms, meet the qualifications generally (very generally) used to diagnose schizophrenia through the majority of the White Clouds chapters. These qualifying symptoms include, but are not limited to, the duration of the psychotic episode, the concurrent presence of hallucinations and delusions, and a greatly lowered ability to keep up with basic quality-of-life tasks. You only see these symptoms in the final chapter of White Clouds and the first few of Azure Moon. This isn’t unusual, however, because schizophrenia manifesting fully in younger individuals is extremely uncommon, sometimes taking years to trigger during a person’s late teens. And since the diagnosis generally relies on the occurrence of a psychotic episode, it can be mistaken as other mood disorders. Actually, the idea of him having a mood disorder was one of the things that caught my eye originally. Prodromal symptoms such as depression, irritability, headaches, sleep disruption, and mood swings are common in bipolar disorder (and, of course, schizophrenia).

Still, I don't deny that Dimitri has PTSD and depression, only that I don’t think PTSD is his main (or only) issue. In reality, PTSD and schizophrenia are closely tied. They share many symptoms, even the symptom of psychosis. There’s also evidence that those with genetic precedent to develop PTSD overlap with those at risk for schizophrenia, and that the nature of PTSD triggers can act as a severe stressor to aggravate a schizophrenic episode.

(From here)

This falls into the realm of being uncertain where one ends the other begins, highlighting the lack of concrete understanding about schizophrenia and the dependency of diagnosis and treatment to rely entirely on the individual experience, but that’s not a conversation I’m actually qualified to have.

The study that truly caught my eye and while researching for this was one called “Psychiatric disorders and traumatic brain injury”. As I mentioned, at some point during the Tragedy, Dimitri sustained severe head trauma. We know this because of his development of the rare inability to taste called ageusia. I was originally interested in following this narrative thread because, as you might know if you follow true crime cases, there are many murderers who recall having sustained a head injury as children. Not that Dimitri shares similar psychology to people that kill and eat their victim's feet... Although his body count is higher. Besides that, head trauma, in general, is known to be linked to mental illness and altering a person’s behavior. There is even a correlation between TBI (traumatic brain injury) and schizophrenia.

From the study I linked above:

To put it more simply, patients in the study who had suffered TBI and developed schizophrenia reported that their most common symptoms were delusions of persecution, auditory hallucinations, and aggressive behaviors. The auditory hallucinations were often voices. Many of the subjects experienced psychotic episodes two or more years after the initial incident (although, as I mentioned, Dimitri’s age could also have something to do with the timing as children rarely have fully developed schizophrenic episodes). Furthermore, the behaviors classified as an absence of normal behaviors called “negative symptoms” (which include apathy and disordered speech) were rare in this testing group.

Dimitri exclusively displays “positive” symptoms of schizophrenia (“positive” meaning the presence of symptoms such as hallucinations and delusions). He also clearly suffers from delusions of persecution in his belief that Edelgard is the sole instigator of Duscur and the war and that he immediately accuses Byleth of being an Imperial spy upon meeting them post time skip. I think it’s pretty fascinating how closely Dimitri’s symptoms follow the outline of the study, especially with the aggressive behaviors, as those aren’t actually very common in schizophrenics.

In very, very simplistic terms, if I’m right and Dimitri was born with the genetic blueprint for schizophrenia/PTSD (through Crests, inheritance, or environmental causes) and later suffered severe head trauma in an event that also gave him PTSD in combination with his pre-existing parental issues and stilted emotional development, then this could definitely create the type of person who loses all sense of reality, can’t control his emotions, and is prone to episodes of murderous rage when being reminded of the trigger (however tangentially) of losing everything he loved.

However, I’ll add real quick that the study I mentioned should be taken with a grain of salt.

I use it mainly because I thought the similarities were interesting and it shows that there was more thought put into Dimitri than maybe people appreciate.

This brings us to my final point; Some kind of twisted joke.

A major point I saw being made as proof of how terrible Dimitri is as a character was that he blamed Edelgard for the Tragedy of Duscur (a time where she would have been twelve). More accurately, he blamed her for everything that had happened and the thing is, I don’t disagree with that critique entirely. However, this is a case of him being a bad person, not a bad character. This might seem like an odd distinction, but I think it changes the scope of deserved criticism.

As I’ve been trying so desperately to illustrate, Dimitri snapping wasn’t just because of Edelgard being revealed as the Flame Emperor. Rather, it was an unlucky combination of many things. His grasp and interpretation of reality were already hazy at best by the time she was unmasked, slowly falling apart as his prodromal symptoms worsened. Going into the fight, he believed the Flame Emperor to be responsible in whole or in part for the worst thing that had ever happened to him, guessed at Arundel’s involvement, had found (and lied about) the dagger, and was rapidly mentally deteriorating. While Dimitri suspected Edelgard’s involvement to some degree, he did his best to act like it wasn’t true.

Dimitri didn’t want it to be true. To the extent that he was willing to lie to Byleth (and to himself) to avoid reality. He cared deeply about Edelgard. The best year of his life was spent with her, she was his first love, and she was the daughter of the step-mother he adored. Strong feelings beget strong feelings, do they not? This reveal confronted Dimitri with something that he could not accept, so his mind sidestepped the issue altogether. Delusion convinced him that all of the fears and worries he had beforehand were related, all into one larger delusion that Edelgard had sole responsibility. It’s not right and maybe not even excusable, but it falls in line with everything else.

Edelgard and Dimitri. Bound by some twisted fate but forever doomed to be separated, unable to understand the other’s chosen path.

I do recognize the flaws of Dimitri’s character and arc. There are some pretty major flaws. I have parts of a post typed out about his shoddy recovery and how I’d fix it that, hopefully, one day will see the light of day as well as many complaints about the way the story is hindered by the need for flexibility to accommodate gameplay and a happy ending.

But, despite that, this has all been a very long-winded way of praising Dimitri’s writing. His mental illness has a surprising amount of depth and I loved studying it as intently as I did. I learned a lot about his character as well as about mental illness in general.

Ultimately, Dimitri is neither an innocent sweetheart whose actions are entirely excusable and justified or an unforgivable war criminal and overall terrible character. You can feel bad for his pain and his struggle with his illness and understand that as a reason for his actions, but you shouldn’t use it as justification. He had the opportunity to seek help before things got too bad. He was selfish with the mismanagement of his emotions and goals. However, he also was a victim. Dimitri worked to recover and mend the mistakes he made while he was unwell, which is a side of this mental illness that is rarely shown in media.

I wholeheartedly believe that, love him or hate him, Dimitri is the most well-written of the Three Houses characters,

#dimitri #fe dimitri #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #fire emblem 16 #fire emblem #FE3H #fire emblem three houses #i spent an ungodly amount of time on this feel free to share your thoughts

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grandmother-goblin · 4 years ago

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Hangman’s Mercy

Chapter 1

Summary: After the war, Levi remembers how he fell in love with the executioner.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Canon-typical Violence, Decapitation, Suggestive Themes, Language, Period-typical Sexism.

On a summer morning, outside an oceanfront cafe, Levi longed for the executioner's embrace. Seagulls cawed on the distant beach and the gentle ocean breeze blew salty air over his steaming cup of tea. Chamomile; the executioner's favorite. Especially with a little honey after a stressful day. They spent countless nights together, sitting across a candlelit table when neither of them could sleep or in each other’s arms, with a hot pot of chamomile tea between them. God, he missed those days.

The chamomile tea at the Marelean cafe did not taste as sweet, even with honey. Maybe that was just because of the company. Not that Levi minded the overzealous journalist scribbling in his journal across from him. After all, he paid well, and it wasn’t like Levi had much to do after the war. Despite the massive loss of life, humanity trudged towards a new sense of normalcy only weeks later. Businesses had to continue, people needed a new sense of purpose or just a moment of peace, and society was never one to stay still. Levi still had to make a living in a world without titans, so when a fast-talking kid with a fire in his eyes offered to pay him for interviews he took the opportunity.

The young man, Marty Chase, tapped his pen against a pile of notes with a nervous energy. Levi took a few days to get to know Marty’s work before he agreed to a biography, and the kid checked out. Marty co-authored three bestsellers before the age of thirty, all biographies of Marelean warriors. Levi did not know any of the subjects, but he felt like he did after a few chapters into his works. How he wove together someone’s life with just interviews and notes, Levi did not know. Some sort of creative witchcraft he would never understand.

Marty flipped to a fresh page in his notebook and clicked his pen. “When I was listening back to our last session, you mentioned an executioner a couple of times. Tell me about that.”

“What about her?”

“Her?” Marty made a note and underlined the fact the executioner was a woman several times. He flipped back through his notes, finding some highlighted passages in the ink. “How did you know her?”

Steam rose from his teacup, and Levi watched as it disappeared into the wind. He hadn’t realized he mentioned the executioner enough during his interviews for Marty to take notice. In fact, he tried to leave the executioner out of it as much as he could. Those who read his biography wouldn’t give a damn about that. Why would they? They wanted to know about his military experience, his title of Humanity’s Strongest, about Eren Jaeger, the military coup, what he saw, and what he experienced. They wanted to know what his comrades could no longer share. Without bringing her into it, they could know all of that. Would she even want them to know?

Levi tasted the chamomile on his tongue and closed his eyes, wishing it was as sweet as he remembered on her lips. He could not ask her permission to share her part of the story. It was impossible. Levi turned the warm teacup in his hands and sighed.

“I almost asked her to marry me.”

The incessant pen clicking stopped. Marty stared at him, eyes wide and mouth agape like a fish out of water. Marty dove into the fat briefcase he lugged around and retrieved that stupid little recording device. It was slightly bigger than a deck of cards with black casing and a roll of tape inside. “And you thought you could just leave out that teensy-weensy, tiny, detail?”

Levi shrugged. “Didn’t think you’d care about that.”

Marty rolled his eyes, as if Levi said something ridiculous, like cats could be herded or the moon didn’t exist. “This stuff is the heart of a good story, no pun intended,” he said. “You’re pretty extraordinary, Mr. Ackerman, no two ways about that. But, people like you seem so far out of reach to an average guy like me. What we need is something to reel you back in. Something to tell our audience, ‘hey, this guy is as human as he is amazing’, and what’s more human than romantic love?”

“Taking a shit?”

Marty set his pen on the table and eyed him like a disappointed teacher looking at the class clown. “If you really don’t think she’s important, you don’t have to tell me about her.”

“Don’t give me the guilt trip shit, Marty.” Levi finished his tea and set the empty cup at the edge of the iron bistro table. “You have plans today?”

“Not if you have a story to tell me.”

“Then get me another cup of tea. Lavender and bergamot, no sweetener.”

Marty beamed like Levi had offered a pot of gold instead of a day's worth of work. Though to Marty, those two were likely one and the same. His book about Reiner’s time in Paradis sold out in some of the biggest shops Marley offered. Well, Levi hoped the paycheck would be worth both of their time.

After Marty returned with the tea and a heart-attack inducing amount of coffee, he pressed the little red button on the side of his recording device. He leaned in close to the speaker and rattled off his typical prelude to the recording. “Levi Ackerman. Tape thirty-two. Who is the executioner?”

Levi sipped his fresh cup of tea, thankful for the bit of caffeine because he knew he’d be needing it. “Don’t turn my biography into a romance novel.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Ackerman,” Marty answered without missing a beat. He clicked his pen and tapped it against the first line in his notebook. “Now, tell me how you first met the executioner.”

Levi held his cup of tea just above the table, not sure if he was going to set it down or take another sip. He guessed he had nothing to lose by sharing their story. “Twenty-five years ago, I saw my first beheading. I was still just a kid scraping by in the Underground…”

Levi, a tiny, twelve-year-old piece of garbage, had only been on his own for a few weeks. Kenny taught him just enough to take care of himself and drop-kicked him from the relative safety of the nest to the dogs. With Kenny, awful as he was, Levi at least felt a sense of safety with an adult around. Once that was ripped from under him, it took him a while to regain his bearings.

The Sunday market was the perfect place to pick pockets and swipe valuables, whether they were from a vendor or a customer. The place was so crowded, a small kid like him could disappear in an instant. He just needed to find the right target. Ideally, someone who looked like they didn’t belong Underground. Someone who would be unused to the dim lighting, the stale air thick with the smell of smoke, and the echoing chatter of thousands of people crammed into one place. Few people from above ground went to the Sunday market, but there were enough to make them easy pickings.

On the outskirts of the market, right outside a general store where Kenny used to buy his liquor, sat a young girl atop some supply crates. One look at her, and Levi knew she was the perfect target. Clean clothes? Check. Shiny hair? Check. Dirt-free face? Check? Alone? Also check. The pretty, sun-kissed face was also a dead giveaway. The brown leather satchel on her lap, scratch-free with shiny copper buckles, would be a great steal. He just had to get a hold of it.

Levi smoothed his ratty, moth-bitten coat and checked his hair in a dusty shop window. Well, he did not look so bad that the girl would run away from him screaming. At least he hoped he didn’t. Not that he cared. Normally, he would go for a more covert approach, one where his target would never know he was there, but there was no way he could take the bag right off of her lap. He’d have to get her to put it down.

With his heart beating faster than a bat's wings, he approached the girl. When she smiled at him, his breath caught in his throat. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea. He focused on the bag. Even if there was nothing good in there, the bag itself would be worth something, whether it be money or for his own use.

Unable to keep eye contact, he swallowed and looked at his shoes, restless fingers pulling at a loose thread in his pocket. “Hey,” he said, his voice breaking in a way that it hadn’t before. He cleared his throat and willed the heat from his face. What was wrong with him?

The girl leaned on her bag. “Hi,” she said with a pretty, white smile. “I like your haircut.”

His eyes widened at the unexpected compliment and the blush he swallowed before heat rushed right back to his face. Thank the walls the Underground was dark, because he was certain she would have laughed if she saw the color on his face. “Thanks, uhh—” he toyed with the thread in his pocket. “I, uh, like your face.” Stupid. Idiot. Maybe if he ran away right now, she would forget about the whole thing.

She covered her mouth when she giggled. It was the cutest thing he had ever heard. What the hell? Was this what Kenny meant when told Levi that girls would stop being gross one day? What a joke. A terrible, awful joke.

He needed to act fast. Plan A: get the girl to stand. Maybe she would put the bag down for a second, long enough for him to grab it and run. He scratched the back of his neck and eyed the crate she was sitting on. “I need to get to that box.”

“Oh.” The girl straightened, one hand still on her bag. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get in the way,” she said and pushed herself off the crates, her long green skirt billowing behind her. Unfortunately, she looped the handle around her forearm, keeping it close.

Well, that did not work. Time for Plan B. Levi looked over the crate and found a serial number. He pretended to examine it for a second before he turned back to the girl. “Can you help me move this?” he asked. “I think I need the one below it.”

Still smiling, the girl set her bag down and dusted her hands off on her skirt. “Sure. What should I do?”

Perfect. “Grab that side.” He pointed to the side of the crate furthest away from her bag. Without question, she tucked her fingers under one side of the crate while Levi lifted the other. Sure, he could have just snatched the bag while she had her back turned, but that was too risky. He wanted a little more of a head start before she followed him.

Levi lifted the top crate well off of the bottom one, and the little girl followed, shuffling her feet against the cobblestone. Her skinny arms strained and her cheeks colored with exertion. There was his chance.

His fingers released, and Levi’s end of the crate crashed into the ground. The girl faltered and Levi acted before the girl could even let go of her half of the crate. His deft hands swiped the bag as he darted past. Too easy. Way too easy. Levi couldn’t help but smile to himself as he swung the bag over his shoulder and the girl shouted after him. Levi circled around the edge of the market to put some distance between him and the girl before he ducked into the thick of the crowd.

In the bustling marketplace, Levi swung the bag onto his shoulder and blended in among the other patrons. No one gave him a second look, like he was just there for a bit of shopping, like everyone else. Easy, he thought to himself. Even if the bag had little in it, the bag itself was nice. Sturdy, with lots of pockets and a comfortable strap. Maybe he’d even keep it for himself instead of pawning it off.

When Levi ducked through a small crowd near a pastry stand, he felt a sudden tug at the back of his jacket. His collar caught his throat as he was yanked back, and a hand the size of his head gripped his shoulder like a vice.

“Say, my daughter has a bag just like that,” said a deep, gravelly voice as the grip on his shoulder tightened.

Levi felt like his heart had stopped. No. What were the fucking chances. The surrounding people started to take notice of the altercation and backed away. People in the Underground knew Levi through reputation alone, and he had taken on men twice his size more times than he could count. Too late not to cause a scene.

Levi grasped his knife and struck behind him, the blade making contact with the man’s flesh. The man groaned and Levi felt another hand on him as he was spun around. Levi’s heart jumped to his throat. This man wasn’t twice his size, he was even bigger. If he hadn’t known better, he might have thought a titan had made it Underground.

Under a bushy red beard that surrounded his face like a lion’s mane, he smiled, a gold tooth front and center of his grin. Levi briefly wondered how much the tooth was worth before he felt his knife plucked from his hand.

“Get him, Ivor!” yelled someone in the crowd.

Another man shouted. “Teach that shit a lesson, hangman!”

The hangman. The fucking hangman. Levi felt his blood run cold as he stared up at the monstrous man. So he was the man Kenny would talk about when he got drunk. The one man that Kenny actually seemed to fear. Not because he thought Ivor would hunt him down, but because Ivor would be the one to carry out his sentence if he was ever tried for his crimes. Remembering the way Kenny described how the hangman would torture his victims before the execution made Levi’s stomach turn.

“I’m not going to fight a child,” Ivor called back to the crowd. “Piss off. You’re not getting a damn show, you buzzards.”

The crowd did not disperse as more insults and jeers were thrown the hangman’s way.

Ivor ignored the taunts. Instead, the hangman focused his pale blue eyes into Levi’s gray ones. “I made that bag for my daughter,” he said. “All it has in it is tea and bad handwritten poetry. I’d tell you to see for yourself, but she’d kill me if I let a stranger read her poems,” he added with a light chuckle.

“Let go of me.”

One hand tightened its grip while the other let go, giving Levi what was supposed to be a friendly pat. “Aye, can’t do that until I get that bag back, son.”

Levi tossed the bag on the ground. Whatever. He knew when to cut his losses. “Take it.”

Still not letting go of him, Ivor placed a boot on the bag strap, keeping it secure. “Thank you, my boy,” he boomed and ruffled Levi’s hair. Ivor knelt as close to Levi’s level as he could, his trench coat made of thick hide bunching up at his feet. He smelled of bergamot and lemon, like he had doused himself in perfumes. Something about Ivor contradicted all of Levi’s expectations: respected and ridiculed, fearsome and jovial, a killer with kind eyes. Despite the iron grip on his shoulder, the hangman seemed… almost nice? Much more tolerant than most of the folks Levi came across, and definitely more so than the ones who felt they were wronged. Blood soaked through Ivor’s pant leg where Levi had slashed his knife, but Ivor did not acknowledge it.

“Take this, boy,” he said in a rough voice barely above a whisper. Ivor reached into his pocket and pressed a small, yet heavy, bag of coins into Levi’s hands, doing his best to shield the transaction from the crowd. “Stay out of trouble. If you don’t, you’ll be seeing me again, boy. And next time, I won’t be so nice.”

Ivor picked up his daughter’s bag and finally released his hold on Levi, patting him on his certainly bruised shoulder. Levi stumbled back, reaching for the knife that was no longer there. Right. The hangman had tossed it aside. Levi pocketed the coins and stood his ground, waiting for an opening to grab his knife again.

Around them, the crowd booed. They hurled words not even Kenny would have used the hangman’s way, and he stood tall and proud, stoic as a statue. When a piece of rotten vegetable pelted Ivor’s coat, he brushed off with a laugh as people in the crowd continued to taunt and jeer. The hangman turned to look at Levi once more, before giving a subtle nod towards a break in the crowd. Levi swore he saw the man mouth the word ‘go’ from behind his massive beard.

“Thought you were going to give us a show, hangman!” a shrill woman shouted.

Ivor tossed the bag over his shoulder. “You’ll be getting a show tomorrow.” He spread his arms with all the showmanship of a magician. “Now stop gawking and do something with your miserable lives, you scabs!”

With a slight limp, Ivor turned into the crowd. Not really thinking, Levi picked his knife off the ground and ran the opposite direction. He did not know where he was going, just that he needed to get out of the marketplace and away from anyone who saw Ivor give him money. Maybe that was the man’s true intention: to put a target on Levi’s back with the cash rather than true altruism. Why else would he give a kid who just stabbed him a satchel full of coins?

The woman’s voice rang in his head. Give us a show, hangman! He was the fucking hangman, and Levi had robbed the hangman’s kid. Levi never felt so stupid in his life. The human embodiment of Death had Levi in his grip, at his mercy, and let him live.

With that gift, Levi ran and did not stop until he reached his lodgings. Levi locked the door behind him and slid to the floor to catch his breath.

When his breathing settled, he pulled the bag of coins out and counted them. More than he expected. A lot more. Enough to get him food for an entire month, or even longer if he planned right. Levi closed his eyes and let his head rest against the wooden door behind him. What the hell kind of person gave a piece of shit like him such a gift? Maybe Ivor had something wrong with him.

Despite how Levi never wanted to see the executioner again, Levi found himself drawn to the town square the following afternoon. He never watched an execution before, but he knew where they took place. The crowd made for good pickings, as those who came to watch were distracted by the morbid spectacle and alcohol. Levi always took his pickings and left before the cart with the condemned even made it to the podium.

There were no gallows for hanging, just a raised platform with a block of wood at the center. People gathered a healthy distance away from the platform. Out of the splash zone, as one man said. Levi did not want to think about how that distance was determined, and stood behind two larger men as a human shield. He could see the podium well enough between them, so long as they stood relatively still. It would have been so easy to swipe something right out of their pockets, but he resisted. It was a day for observation, and observation only. He didn’t know why, but he needed to see the executioner in action. He needed to know it was, in fact, the same man he met the day before.

Nothing he knew of the man, the little he did know, made any sense. Obviously respected, yet despised. A brute who didn’t flinch at a knife slicing his thigh and laughed off a jeering crowd. A man who made bags for his daughter, gave coins to a kid who stabbed him, and went off to kill a person the next day.

One man in front of him, with a stocky build and a mustache that looked like a push broom, puffed at his cigarette. “Any idea what this one did?”

His friend, a taller man with a ponytail, replied, “I heard she killed a few of her customers from the whore house. Poor bastards. Thought they were paying for a good time, then they’d get home and drop dead. Took them ages to find out why.”

“How many did she get?”

“At least twelve, from what I’ve heard.”

“Shit.” The mustached man tossed his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boots. “Executioner will let us know.”

The man with a ponytail cocked his chin towards the main road. “Speak of the devil and he will come,” he said.

Far down the end of the main road, a draft horse pulled a rickety wagon fixed with a rusty iron cage. The giant, red-haired hangman sat at the front of the cart, his boxy gloved hands gripping the reins as he shouted at people to get out of the way. Beside him was the little girl from yesterday, hugging her precious bag.

“Can’t believe he’s training her,” Mustache Man muttered.

Ponytail shrugged. “Not like she has many other prospects,” he said. “Being the hangman’s kid, it’s not like men will be lining up for her. Hell, I don’t know if a whore house would take her.”

Mustache Man hummed thoughtfully and lit up another cigarette. “Poor kid.”

The wagon reached the podium and Ivor hauled himself down from the rider seat, the wagon creaking with the sudden loss of weight. Levi would not have been surprised if the ground shook when those massive boots hit the pavement like a fallen powder keg. Ivor turned back to the cart and gingerly lifted his daughter and set her down beside him. Without a word, the girl dug into her bag and passed a vial to her father before she went to the edge of the podium.

A man in a Military Police uniform lingered nearby. Probably acting as some sort of bailiff, Levi figured, judging by the official-looking documents clutched between his fingers. He ascended to the podium and shouted something to Ivor, who went to the back of the wagon.

A desperate wail echoed over the crowd when Ivor swung open the metal bars. A frail woman with her hands tied behind her back scrambled to the back of the wagon, sobbing and pleading. Her hair had been cut short, but Levi recognized her from the brothel as a woman his mother would sometimes talk to. Her name was Ada, if he remembered correctly, and she was almost unrecognizable between the haphazardly chopped hair and tear-stained face. Kicking at his meaty hands, squirming away from his vice-like grip, Ivor pulled her from the cart despite her best efforts.

Turning her away from the crowd, Ivor pinched her jaw and dumped the vial down her throat. He held her mouth shut until she swallowed as he whispered something in her ear. Sobbing, tears leaving salty streaks on her face and snot dripping from her nose, she stopped fighting him. Her shoulders slumped and her head hung like a rag doll, as if she had finally accepted what was coming to her. Guiding her by the back of the neck, Ivor led Ada up four wooden steps to the chopping block, his blocky hand grasping her arm when she tripped.

The crowd booed and jeered as Ivor pushed Ada to her knees in front of the block. She stared ahead, her eyes already dead and her body slumping to the side. Ivor righted her long enough to tie a blindfold over her eyes before she slumped over again. The man from the Military Police rang a bell to quiet the crowd. When the chatter and yelling subsided, he read the charges brought before Ada. Like the gentlemen in front of him had said, she had confessed to poisoning at least a dozen men, all of whom were prior customers of the brothel.

Once the charges had been read, Ivor pushed the woman down. With one massive hand on the back of her skull, he guided her neck, so it rested across the chopping block. The moment he let go, her head lolled to the side.

Releasing Ada to pick up the ax, Ivor watched as she slipped off the block completely. Her body curled up into itself like a frightened child, wetness seeping through her blindfold. He set the ax down on its head, holding it upright with one hand and motioning for his daughter with the other. The crowd grew quiet as the little girl joined him on the podium.

“Shit,” Ponytail drawled with more pity than Levi ever thought could fit into a curse word.

“Yeah,” Mustache Man agreed, forgetting the cigarette that burned between his finger tips.

Levi could not hear what Ivor said, but the girl nodded and knelt in front of Ada. Her small hands lifted Ada from beneath her jaw and pulled her back onto the chopping block. With Ada’s neck in place, the girl walked back on her knees as far away from the block as she could manage without letting go of Ada’s hair.

Ivor wrapped his bulking hands around the long handle of the ax and poised himself beside the block, waiting.

When the man from the Military Police gave the signal, Ivor hoisted the ax into the air and brought it down. Once, then once again, each strike accompanied by the thud of metal against flesh, wet plops of blood, and gasps of horror and cheers from the crowd. At least two people vomited at the sight and one man in the front row fainted.

Pale in the face and speckled with blood, the little girl detangled her fingers from Ada’s hair. Ada’s head rolled a few inches from where the girl had dropped it, blood staining the wooden podium in its path. The girl did not move until Ivor yanked her to her feet. Deaf to the audience, the little girl walked back to the cart as though she were drawn by a string and not of her own accord.

The man from the Military Police pronounced Ada dead as Ivor held up the still dripping head to the crowd. Levi’s stomach turned. For a moment, he thought he might join the people who lost their lunch at the sight, but he swallowed thickly and turned away. If he never saw either of them again, it would be too soon.

Twenty-five years later, and he still remembered that afternoon more clearly than he would have liked. It was not the most brutal death Levi had witnessed. Titans were plenty worse. Something else stood out about that one in particular, but Levi did not really know what. Even as he recounted the story to Marty, he could not say why the memory stuck with him so strongly.

Marty poured creamer into his coffee and paused the recording device. Quietly, he wrote a few notes while Levi finished his cup of tea. Even though Marty had listened to the very worst of Levi’s stories, it seemed the story about a little girl holding a severed head and struck him differently. The change in disposition only lasted long enough for Marty to finish writing his notes, the gears in his brain seemed to turn as he did so. Marty checked his recording device and looked up at Levi, intrigue written across his face.

Levi picked up one of the cranberry scones Marty ordered almost twenty minutes ago. “You’ve got questions.”

Marty tapped his pen. “I do,” he said. “But first, I want to hear what happened next.”

#attack on titan #aot #levi #levi ackerman #aot fanfiction

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faunusrights · 5 years ago

Text

OFFAL HUNT REMASTERED LIVEBLOG // CHAPTER 19

IN THIS EPISODE OF MURPHY IS SCREAMING, CONSTANTLY, TRAPPED IN THEIR PERFECT NIGHTMARE:

Glynda was saying: “I know we aren’t friends. I know we aren’t partners. I know you’re a criminal. But—I think I can trust you. I think I have to trust you, even if you’ve done awful things before.”

EVERYTHING GOES WRONG BUT LIKE SOMEHOW WORSE THAN EVER? LIKE A WHOLE NEW BRAND OF LOW. LIKE CINDER’S GOT A PICKAXE AND THE CENTRE OF THE PLANET CALLS FOR AID.

IT’S BEEN A WHILE HUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but dw offal hunt, like the rising of the sun, the arrival of winter, and the eventual downfall of capitalism, always returns. so lets go.

(i just quickly reread chapter 18 liveblog to remember what happened and Ah Yes I Remember Now. The Suppressed Memories)

The place was emptier without Glynda. Quieter.

/gunshot oh we’re in danger right out of the gate huh? we got some yearning right out here? right now? how quickly the turn do tables.

Cinder appraised her work, holding the beige coat up to the light and squinting.

man i forgot. i FORGET. how much i just love cinder in this fic. sometimes she kinda zones to the back of my mind where she sits waiting for me to start thinking about her again, but now i remember that this cinder is Peaque. look at her GO, minding her own BUSINESS. im proud of her. does she know i love her.

It didn’t take long to don her new, fire-proofed clothes.

in another world, in a more comical plot, she used asbestos. it didnt go well.

The subtle warmth of the Dust teased tension from Cinder’s stiff muscles, even as she marvelled at the strangeness of her own bedroom’s space. It seemed bigger now than it had the last two nights.

She chose not to dwell on it.

i choose to dwell on it! ME!!!! I CHOOSE TO DWELL ON IT. HEY CINDER WHAT THIS GAY SHIT. hello. ma’am. can we look deeper into this. i, for one, would like to, and i, for one, think its of value to think abt this. that said, small segue

Quietly, Cinder murmured, “I didn’t freak out.”

THE FACT SHE SAYS IT ALOUD LIKE EM AND MERC CAN HEEEEEEAR HEEEEEEEER i am. INFATUATED with this family. cant wait for the 100k spinoff thats basically an elongated beach episode where they go to like. alton towers. or butlins. six flags??? thats a thing in america right??? anyway. beach episode. call me. (wink wink nudge nudge push push shove shove)

We had to stop back in because Merc left his favorite binder, and it was 2 in the morning, so it was easier to crash here for the night than mess with the ship’s autopilot.

them,,, THEM!!!! mercury is just a son and childe. thast it. he canot change this. i love these kids so much i am SHAKING THE MONITOR RN!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAA

Stuck here in one of the homes they’d shared, Cinder missed them terribly. Missed the sound of their voices and the easy comfort of their presence. Finding the time to contact them had been difficult, between managing Glynda and Hati both, but Glynda was gone, and she’d sent Hati onwards to Atlas. She remembered her call with Emerald, before arriving in Umbraroot; she knew it had not soothed her or her fears.

im sorry was this chapter targeted at me, specifically, as a human being on planet earth? GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THIS FAMILY!!!!!!!!! THIS WONKY OLD BANDAGED UP FAMILY UNIT!!!!!!!!!!!!! i thrive every time they are mentioned on the page. it is a blessing. my succulents grow stronger each time they show up.

“No,” Cinder argued softly, “I had to. Mercury, you deserve to hear it from me as well. I am sorry. And I am promising you: I’ll come back.”

For a long, heart-wrenching moment, he was completely quiet. It was good that Cinder was alone in the apartment; laying herself bare like this would be unbearable with an audience.

GODDDDDDDDDDD AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

i am OBSESSED WITH THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM GOING TO BE THINKING ABOUT THIS UNTIL I D I E. of all thing the remaster does better than og, this is just. SPEEDING AHEAD. this whole CONFLICT this whole MESS just makes everything so much RICHER its like when u splash some wine in yr fancy food or stick some cinnamon on yr favourite desserts u dont NEED TO but it adds that lil SOMETHING,,, that little KICK that just ties the flavour profile together and in this case ofgughugguhu it just GIVES SO MUCH. im making SNOW ANGELS in the WORDS on the PAGE.

“Mercury. If I could prove it to you, I would. But you have to—trust me. For just a while longer.”

“It’s getting harder,” he said. He didn’t sound like he was lying just to hurt her. That wasn’t spite. That was honest anger. And it made her feel like dirt.

im less picking these for specific instances of like, things i want to say, but more just because bits of this r rly just so /chef kiss. cinder has these.... endearingly (take that whichever way u like) human qualities in OG to rly make u realise she had ties to add to her #Doubt but the remaster is just AMPING it up and u FEEL IT and ive never been more SYMPATHETIC to a round-faced sinnamon bun of assholery and fire id DIE for cinder fall and this is a fact PUT IT ON MY GRAVESTONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Is there anything you need?” What was this? Cinder could barely focus on her words. It felt like... “Anything? At all?”

“We’re fine.”

“Mercury, wait please—” She was losing him. “I think—”

“Just hurry up.”

The line went dead.

this place is not a place of honor.................. no highly esteemed deed is commemorated here........................ nothing valued is here................ IM DYING

Cinder began to type out her response, and that was when the nausea really kicked in.

[...]

She recognized this now.

Glynda.

stress stress stress stress STRESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

There shouldn’t be anybody. Cinder had done everything in her power to cut Glynda from people who would interfere. To isolate her. Make it easier to bring her to Atlas, to the frozen north, to her mother and the machine…

Cinder’s esophagus quivered; furiously, she shut her eyes and thought of nothing.

god cinder don’t remind me that you’re an asshole and dipshit and also a moron im trying to be NICE and CARE ABT YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! STOP REMINDING ME YOU’RE A PIECE OF SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FOR FIVE MINUTES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The front door clicked open.

Cinder couldn’t have said how much time had passed, only that it had passed slowly. What she did know was that it was Glynda returning, the sensation of boils bursting wafting off her soul. It crawled over Cinder’s flesh. She curled in on herself.

There were mites under every nailbed. Salt in her weeping mouth.

offal hunt’s brilliant use of this horror aspect is something i have tried previously to emulate and here’s a fact, take it from me: that shit is HARD. offal hunt consistently able to whack those real nasty, really Disgusting vibes on the head EVERY TIME is a work of art. i mean, kc and diesel do not fuck around, and therefore i am NOT surprised, but it’s only when u try this shit yourself that you realise: this is hard! this is difficult! it’s a huge testament to how GOOD this fic is in every way. also this whole fucking body horror aspect is something i didnt know this fic needed, but it did, and here we are.

Thickly: “Things were going okay. If you hadn’t gotten nasty, I might have smoothed things over. I could have fixed things with my son.”

with my son

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I CANT TAKE IT EVERY TIME ITS TOO MUCH FOR TO BEAR I CANNOT HANDLE IT I CANNOT STAND IT ITS LIKE BEING SHOT JUST DIRECTLY IN MY DICK

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

im like sweating rn

Glynda said, “I’m scared.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

I SAID IM SWEATING

Glynda asked, “Are you lying to me?”

And Cinder said, “What?”

“About me. About Witches. About Ozpin—” Cinder’s guts went sour. “—About anything. I need to know if I can trust you.”

I SAID I! AM! S W E A T I N G

“I know you’ve lied to people. Hurt people.”

Adrenaline and the image of her kids’ faces behind her eyes made a potent, sick cocktail. “—Not. Now.”

so lets like double back to when i said hey was this chapter written to target me specifically and as it turns out, yes. yes it was. yes it was and as MUCH AS I AM LIVING FOR THIS MOMENT THIS SWEET BUILDUP THE EXPLOSION AND THE CRATER IT ALL LEAVES BEHIND

so this next bit is like. i cant really quote one section but as i was saying in Vague DMs, this whole bit feels like wading through mud. usually if you say something consumes energy to Read it’s in a Bad Way when yr bored but this is more like. you Feel cinder all over everything feels so sluggish and it’s like dragging your own corpse around as you try and leave and you’re TIRED and your LEGS HURT and you’re kinda thinking god what if i just fell face down for just a moment of my LIFE.

The putrid weight of Glynda’s soul filled the room until there was no space left for her.

it’s like being trapped in a sauna, like getting stuck in a humid waiting room. where do you GO. what do you DO. god this whole section is fantastic and offal hunt NEVER fails to fucking nail the Vibes but reading it is HARD. i literally keep having to stop and breathe like ive been holding my breath. jesus h christ.

a small intermission for a mood:

“Get fucked.”

back to regularly scheduled hell

Out of the bedroom. Down the hall. The walls were sweating with heat. She tasted smoke.

i love that i just said how i feel like im trapped in a sauna and it turns out: thats because me and cinder both, baybee!!!! hahahaha help

Glynda’s soul chewed her to the marrow. “Move, Glynda.”

cinder being hunted at the start of this fic: teehee! im running away! now im gonna getcha! heehee! arent i clever :) cinder being hunted now: this uh. this blows, actually,

Cinder’s pulse roared in her ears. Her hands twitched. She smelled Ochre Brown’s round face melting off. His wide smile shattered with each of his teeth, going black and popping like corn.

this chapter is probably my favourite so far for this blending of so many elements. i cant even begin to like. THINK STRAIGHT about how all of this is tying together. the lore. the THEMATICS. like i said this character rly is just Rich with what og lacked and oh is it RICH. im gonna read this chapter in future and see so much that i know ive already missed. holy shit.

“Ms. Fall,” she said. “The White Fang requires your presence immediately.”

NOT NOW

Cinder stood there looking at it for a moment. Her thoughts were slow. Copper-tinged. Something small and indulgent whispered to her through the blood-fog.

It was obvious enough what would happen if she got into this car. The driver would take her to a secluded place, where she would be ambushed by a squadron of battle-hungry White Fang grunts.

They’d try to take her down. And she was a killer, wasn’t she? Ochre Brown wailed in her ears with every thump of her runaway heart. Her hands itched for action; her teeth, for blood.

She’d burn them black.

never mind! you are already dead,

She thought about Glynda. About her saying that if there was trouble with the Fang, she wanted to come. That she would fight for Cinder.

She thought of Glynda’s question: What aren’t you telling me about Ochre Brown?

Yeah, fuck that.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!! WHAT A CLIFFHANGER!!!!!!!!!! WHAT A MOMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!! MORE MOMENTOUSLY: WHAT A CHAPTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

this is EASILY my favourite chapter so far. EASILY. everything about this was peak offal. the relationships. the dynamics. the dialogue. the vibes. the Grossness. the fighting. the EVERYTHING. this is some other level and its BITCHIN. PEAK. that said im now very tired. im going to have a cup of tea and Consider Things for a few hours. brb.

#liveblog #rwby #offal hunt

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adrenaline-roulette · 5 years ago

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He’ll save every one of us Chapter 1

Brian May x Reader with side notes of Roger Taylor x Original female character

Preview: “If you want to kick something, feel free to kick our van, Roger’s been pissing me off all week.” Came a deep voice from behind you both. “I’m sorry Mister, but I have a strict no kicking stranger’s cars policy. You’ll just have to kick Roger’s car yourself.” “Is there any particular reason as to why Roger’s car should be the victim of such abuse?”

Chapter one: The Midnight Librarians

You twirled your drum stick between your fingers, your foot tapping against the stage floor impatiently as you scanned your eyes across the sea of pub goers all awaiting your band to start performing. The crowd had been growing steadily for the past hour, though it wasn’t until five minutes ago that you and your bass guitarist Bree began to stress. This was your first performance for the summer break, and the pub had booked you to play every Friday and Saturday night until the Universities all went back, at the time you had all been beyond excited to have a steady gig for a little while, though now, sitting under the beating stage lights, you realised this could very well be your first and last gig! Your band had been booked at the last minute, only receiving the news of your time slot at the beginning of the week. It wasn’t impossible to perform your set without your lead guitarist, but he did provide back up vocals, and the songs just wouldn’t sound the same without his harmonies. The drumstick stopped abruptly in its spin, as you snapped your attention towards Bree, who had stopped tuning her guitar, an identical expression of worry etched across her face. Gesturing your head towards backstage, she eagerly nodded, and you both scurried off the bright stage, leaving your audience to wait even longer for the music to begin.

You kick the backstage door open, storming off into the carpark, your fists clenched at your sides as you go. Bree follows a ways behind you, choosing to express her anger in silence, unlike you, who decided to scream as gutturally as possible. It was an excellent way to ruin your voice just before a gig, but you couldn’t give a damn any more.

“Where the fuck is he?” You growl, as you stomp over to Bree’s station wagon, kicking the rear tyre in frustration. “He had better have a bloody good excuse for not showing up! And if tries to pull the whole, ‘Oh, I didn’t realise that was tonight!’ shit again, I’ll rip his head off!”

Bree puts her hands out in front of her, a sign that she came in peace and meant no harm. “Last I heard from him, he promised to be here, maybe something bad happened?”

“Unless he’s either dead or dying, then I fail to see what would cause him to bail without notice.” You mutter, turning your attention back to putting as much effort as possible into breaking your targeted tyre.

“Jeez Y/N, could you maybe not destroy my car? We need to get out of here somehow, if we plan on ditching that is?” Bree sighs, stepping closer to you, now that you had calmed down somewhat.

“If you want to kick something, feel free to kick our van, Roger’s been pissing me off all week.” Came a deep voice from behind you both. Stopping mid kick, you turn on the spot, regarding the new arrival with an unamused expression.

You fold you arms across your chest, tilting your head to one side as you look over the man stood before you. He had chin length hair, which looked to have been ironed into straightness within an inch of its life. Though you could imagine if he let it grow out that it would suit his angular face far better. If his voice wasn’t as gentle as it was, then his height would surely make him quite intimidating, though you found yourself unafraid of the newcomer. “I’m sorry Mister, but I have a strict no kicking stranger’s cars policy. You’ll just have to kick Roger’s car yourself.” You shrug, as Bree grins beside you.

Bree rests her hand on your shoulder in a comforting manner, before directing her eyes on the man as well. “Is there any particular reason as to why Roger’s car should be the victim of such abuse?”

“Well, not to offend you both. But Roger is the reason as to why your band has the next few weeks booked to play here, instead of us.” He sighs, a half smile tugging at his lips. He looks far too exhausted to be out on a Friday night, stress from final exams likely putting a large amount of pressure on him, as with most of the other pub patrons. “He decided not to show up for a few of our gigs last month. The manager told us, that unless we could guarantee the whole band would be there, then he couldn’t book us anymore. Unsurprisingly, we couldn’t promise Roger’s being there, so our booking got cut.”

Tough blow you think to yourself, as you allow your arms to fall to your sides, fishing out your pack of smokes from your back pocket, retrieving one and sitting it between your lips, Bree passes you her lighter and, you inhale deeply as the flame kisses the end. “Sorry to hear that, but if it’s any consolation, I think we’re about to be out of luck soon too. Our lead guitarist is MIA.” You tap the ash off the end of your cigarette, watching it fall to the gravel beneath you. “What’s your band called? We tend to know most of the local university acts, I’m surprised we haven’t seen you around before.”

“Currently, we’re known as smile. Though there’s been talks of changing it to Queen. That is if Freddie has anything to say about it. I’m Brian by the way, my mother would have my head if she knew I didn’t introduce myself sooner!”

“Well Brian, it’s been a pleasure meeting you. But I really must get back to what I was doing and plotting our band mates murder.” You say lightly, gesturing to the car behind you.

Bree scowls at you, punching your shoulder lightly. “Whoa now, I said it was fine for you to kick things, not to murder people!”

“Sorry, it’s a fine line. Guess I crossed it.” You shrug, though you grin over at her, watching as she rolls her eyes at your antics.

“Any chance I could get your names before I leave? You know, so I can keep an eye out for your band?” Brian asks, a slight nervous lilt to his voice.

You lift a quizzical eyebrow up at him, he seemed harmless enough, and from the sounds of things he understood your frustration on difficult band members. “I’m Y/N, and this is Bree. The band’s called, the midnight librarians.” You offer with a small smile.

“That’s bloody awesome.” Brian chuckles, as he turns on his heel and heads back towards the pub, stopping as he reaches the door. “I hope to see you around Y/N….” He smiles, before heading back inside.

“You have to marry him!” Bree declares, throwing her arm across your shoulder, as she steals the smoke from your lips, taking a long drag. “He’s gorgeous, plays in a band, lives somewhere near us. He’s perfect!”

“I like the fact that the only things on your check list to get married, are looks, job, and location… Besides, I’m busy plotting the perfect murder here. I can’t very well start planning a wedding.” You smirk, as Bree finishes off your cigarette, stamping out the butt on the ground. “Really though, what are we going to do tonight? Do we go on, just the two of us? Or do we just pack up and leave?”

Bree sighs deeply, running a hand across her forehead as she mulls over your words. “I suppose we could see how we go with just us?” She begins, before being cut off, once again by the back door slamming open.

“So sorry to intrude my darlings! But my dear Brian here,” The stranger takes a moment to gesture behind him, just as Brian emerges from the door, waving shyly. “Was just mentioning the predicament you have found yourselves in, and of course he didn’t think about mentioning it at the time, but he is our lead guitarist. A rather good one at that if I do say so myself. Perhaps he could help you out tonight?” The young man flounces around before both of you, his long hair bouncing around as he takes long strides. There’s an air of theatrics around him, and you can only imagine they type of stage presence he would have. “I’m Freddie, lead singing of Queen. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” He smiles, bowing before the two of you.

“Oh, so the name change is official is it?” Brian chuckles, as he stands beside his bandmate, arms folding across his chest.

“Of course, it’s official, it’s perfectly outrages! Just like me!” Freddie decides, with a voice of finality.

You look at Bree, who has a matching look of unsureness etched across her features. “Not to be ungrateful, but how would Brian be able to help us? If you mean for him to play along side us, while the offer is very kind, he doesn’t know any of our songs. He’s never even heard of us before. He wouldn’t be able to keep up.” Bree offers with a shrug, watching as Freddie comes to a complete stand still in front of you both.

Freddie frowns deeply, looking between the two of you, and back at Brian, the cogs in his brain working on overdrive. “I’m sorry, what did you just say my dear?”

Bree blinks slowly over at Freddie, taking in his look of pure confusion. “I said that Brian doesn’t know our band or music.” She begins, before being cut off by a loud laugh from Freddie.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard! Brian knows all about the midnight librarians, he’s been following your band for months now! He was the one who recommended your band to the manager, when he said he needed to replace us!” Freddie laughs, wiping a fake tear away from the corner of his eye.

You mouth drops at this revelation, turning your attention entirely on Brian now. “So, you do know us then?” You grin, resting your hands on your hips. Brian has the good decency to blush at having been called out.

“I saw you putting up flyers for the band a little while ago, I like to hear new music.” He shrugs lightly, lowering himself down to sit on one of the stairs bellow the backstage door. “I decided to check you guys out at one of your gigs, thought you sounded pretty damned good, and have been keeping an eye out for your other shows.”

“If by keeping an eye out, you mean going to every bloody show and dragging us along too!” Freddie yells across the parking lot. “No offence my dears, your music is wonderful!”

You stand over Brian now, resting your hip against the banister of the stairs. “So, you’ve been stalking us, have you?”

“If by stalking you mean going to your gigs like any other university student. Then yes, I’ve been stalking you.”

“He also said something about having a class with Y/N!” Freddie calls once again, causing Bree to laugh hysterically, and Brian to groan.

You can’t help but laugh, the poor man was being picked on mercilessly, and you loved it! “So, should I give you my bank details now or later?”

Brian groans, resting his head in his hands, his elbows propped up on his bony knees. “I swear I’m not a creep! It’s honestly just a coincidence we share a class. It’s only one as far as I’m aware, and I swear I don’t know anything else about you!” Brian pleads with you.

You grin down at him, before taking a seat beside him on the step. “Don’t stress Brian, I’m honestly quite flattered that you take the time out of your life to come and see us perform.”

“He also knows your favourite colour, your middle name, your dorm number, and where you like to go after class to get a coffee!” Freddie sings, as he leans against Bree’s car beside her, resting against the bonnet.

Brian glares across at his friend, Freddie waving merrily at him with a grin. “I can assure you, I know none of the above.”

“That’s a relief. If you did, I would have to call the police, I think! I’m sure they would have some questions for you.” You smirk, as you lean your forearms against your knees. “Do you think you would be able to play with us? I know it’s a huge ask, and from the looks of things, it wasn’t your idea. But you might very well be our only hope.”

Brian watches you intently, mulling over his next words. “I may not be perfect, but I can try my hardest. It won’t be exactly how it usually sounds, but I’m pretty good at picking things up on the fly.”

You nod in agreement, facing Bree across the way. “Alright Bree, we need to make a decision now, before we’re told to leave. Do we try our best with just us, accept Brian’s offer, or just call it quits?”

Neither of you want to let this night end badly, so the option of packing up and leaving is not your first preference. Besides, if you do leave now, you won’t get paid, and that really isn’t ideal. “If Brian thinks he can match us, then he’s in!” Bree finally answers, and you grin at her.

“Well Brian, it looks like you’ve got yourself a gig tonight. We’ve got the guitar all tuned up and ready to go, so she’s all yours.” You smile, as he stands up, reaching a hand down to you and pulling you up after him.

“Now just know this, lovely ladies, you cannot keep him! He’s my guitarist, and we will need him back eventually.” Freddie warns, a playfully serious look on his face, as the four of you make your way back inside of the pub.

“You’d better watch out Fred, I might like performing with them better than you lot. Might find yourself in the market for a new guitarist!” Brian smirks, as the three of you make your way onstage.

“Don’t you dare! We’re already struggling to find a bassist, don’t make us have to find a lead guitarist too!” Freddie cries dramatically from the wings of the stage. You only just manage to hear him from the noise of the audience, but you all get the general idea of what he’s saying.

As Freddie turns to leave, a young man walks up to him, a friendly smile plastered on his face, his eyes crinkling at the sides as he waves. “Hi, I’m John Deacon, I play bass.”

“You’re hired!” Freddie shrieks, as he grabs the young man’s wrist, and drags him towards the bar, leaving Brian to set up with his new friends.

The three of you get yourself ready quickly, everything having already been set up by you and Bree earlier in the evening. Brian takes a few moments to get the feel for the new guitar, though he quickly picks it up, and within minutes the three of you are ready to perform. “Alright Brian, just follow on as best you can! We can do this!” You grin, trying desperately to stay positive, despite the less than ideal situation you had found yourselves in. “One… Two… Three!” You cry, counting the band in, as you crash down on the drums, Bree chiming in on the bass and Brian following with a riff which is relatively close to what it should be. Bree belts out the lyrics you had worked hours on creating, as you sing along behind your drum kit, throwing your heart and soul into this set.

It takes a little while before the audience warms up to you, though soon enough everyone is moving along to the music, feeling the rhythm course through them. You grin happily, rather impressed with how quickly Brian had picked up on his role in the band, even if he was just a temporary stand in, you didn’t half mind performing with him. Somehow, he kept finding his way over to your drum kit, grinning at you as you pounded out the rhythm to your current song. Occasionally he would play it up for the audience, playing directly for them when a solo came up, but he would instantly find his way back to you. You play for a solid hour and a half, before you all decide it’s due time you take a much-needed beer break. “Thank everyone, we’ve been the midnight librarians, with special guest Brian May on guitar. We’ll be back soon!” Bree calls out through the microphone, as you all climb off stage, heading straight for the bar.

As you reach the bar, you spot Freddie speaking with two other men, one with flowing blonde locks and piercing blue eyes, the other a brunette, with a permanently cheerful expression etched upon his face. “You were wonderful darling’s! Truly wonderful!” Freddie grins, as he hands you and Bree each a beer, both of you taking large gulps instantly, you were parched, and the cold drink was ever so soothing. “Brian, come meet John, we’ll be auditioning him this week, he says he plays bass.”

“Nice to meet you.” Brian grins, shaking hands with the younger man.

The blonde man, looks over at you and Bree, grinning at the two of you. “You look pretty good out there, don’t sound half bad either.” He smirks, lifting his beer bottle to his lips and taking a drink. You glare at him, not at all liking how cocky he sounded. Though Bree smiles, a faint blush covering her cheeks.

“Thank you, I’m Bree, this is Y/N.” She offers the stranger, and you can’t resist rolling your eyes. Trust Bree to flirt with the first blonde haired, blue eyed floozy she meets at a pub.

“Roger Taylor, at your service.” The blonde grins, as he pushes past Freddie and John, to stand in between you and Bree.

Pursing your lips, you step aside, not really wanting to stand so close to the flirt fest that was occurring before you. “Is he always like this?” You ask, turning your attention to Brian, who could only chuckle in response.

“Just wait until he really gets started, he knows every pick-up line there is.” Freddie sighs, shaking his head in exasperation.

“Sounds like they’ll be perfect for each other then.” You mutter, noticing as Roger wraps his arm around Bree’s waist, stepping her away from the group. “Oi, blondie! We need her back in twenty!” You shout at them. Roger waves you off, while Bree nods at you in understanding. “Why do I get the nasty feeling we won’t be seeing her again tonight?”

Brian leans back against the bar, folding his arms over his chest loosely. “Oh no, he’ll bring her back as promised. Just not necessarily in the designated time period.”

“That really isn’t very reassuring Brian. Just want you to know that.” You grumble, shooting a glare over to the taller man. You look over to the young man stood beside Freddie and offer him a smile. “Hey there, John was it? I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

John grins back at you, a small gap between his two front teeth prominent as he looks at you. “Nice to meet you too. You three really are quite good out there! Mind me asking what happened to your regular guitarist?”

“Nothing that can be proven.” You mutter darkly, before laughing. “We’re currently going with, either dead or maimed. But until further news, we’re just speculating.”

John blinks at you, a look of shock and surprise written across his face. “Are you always this dark?” He asks, taking a swig from his beer. He looks too young to be drinking, and you would wager a guess on Freddie having bought the young man the drink.

“It’s one of my many charms, I’m able to be as dark and depressing as I would like, and still get away with it, because I’m cute as a button.”

“Can’t argue with the logic.” Brian chuckles from beside you, and you grin over at him, accepting the full beer he held out to you.

“Shouldn’t I be buying you drinks? Seeing as you rescued us from an impending doom?” You ask, though eagerly take another sip from the cold bottle.

Brian takes a moment to mull over you question. “You’re right, that’ll be 40p.” He grins, holding his hand out, palm up awaiting his payment. “Nah, how about you buy the next round?”

“I think I can mange that.” You grin, as you lean against the bar beside him. The night carries on with you discussing the latest albums with Brian, Freddie and John. What was supposed to be only a thirty-minute break, ended up being closer to an hour by the time Bree and Roger returned. Both looked a little bit worse for wear, hair in tangles, and Bree’s lipstick smeared across Roger’s lips and neck. No one mentions a thing though, you’re just thankful she had returned to finish the set.

The three of you kick off once more, throwing yourselves into the music, just as the audience did too. You finished off with a song which involved a type of audience participation, asking everyone to clap along to the chorus. It always sounded fantastic when an entire pub full of people were clapping in time to your drum beat, with just Bree’s vocals accompanying you. Brian watched from the side, grinning as he allowed the two of you to finish the song. He would be lying if he said he paid any attention to anyone but you in that moment.

After another few rounds at the bar, the crowd had dwindled dramatically, leaving just a dull roar over the jukebox, now playing the hits of the Beatles. You and Bree make your way back onto the stage, starting to pack up your instruments, dreading having to fit your entire drum kit back into Bree’s station wagon. It was a tight squeeze, yet somehow you managed to make it work. Brian reappeared beside you, grin as you look at him in surprise. “Let me give you a hand.” He offers gently.

You’re hardly able to say no, especially seeing as he had already picked up your bass drum and was walking with it towards the backstage exit. Grabbing your snare drum, you follow him out, ignoring Bree’s wolf whistle as she watches how quickly you run to catch up with him. You kick open the door, just as Brian reaches the car, carefully sliding the large drum into the back seat through the boot. “Thanks for your help, but you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I’ve loaded up my drums into this car more times than I can count.” You offer, as you come up behind him, waiting for him to move out of the way so you can slide the next piece of kit into the car.

“Is that your way of telling me I’ve over stayed my welcome?” Brian grins, turning to look down at you, as you move up next to him, with the next piece of the drum kit.

“What? No! That isn’t what I meant at all!” You gasp out. “I just meant, that you’ve already helped out so much tonight, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do more.” You stammer, looking anywhere but his eyes, which were focused intently on you.

“I’m not still here out of obligation. I’m here because I actually rather enjoy spending time with you, and I’m trying to pluck up the courage to ask you out on a date.” He smiles, a light blush colouring he cheeks.

You bite down on your bottom lip, before finally looking up at him, your eyes meeting instantly. Standing on your toes, you press a soft kiss against his lips, watching as his eyes flutter closed. It only lasts for a moment, as you’re soon interrupted by Freddie talking obnoxiously loudly with John. “And over there you’ll see Roger’s van, which is how we get around to all of our gigs. And if you look to your left, you will see our guitarist snogging the living daylights out of his new, special friend.”

Brian pulls away, resting his forehead against yours as he groans. “Trust Freddie to ruin the moment.”

“And who said this was going to go any further, hm?” You laugh, reaching forwards to rest your hand against his shoulder, rubbing small circles against it with your thumb.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that!” He quickly defends, though soon notices the playful look on your face. “I’m going to have to get used to sarcasm with you, aren’t I?”

You nod eagerly, grinning up at him. “You would be correct in thinking so!” Slowly you step away from Brian, removing your hand from his shoulder as you do so. “So, how about dinner on Tuesday?”

Brian smiles, running a hand through his hair as he watches you walk backwards away from him and the car. “Tuesday sounds wonderful.”

“Great! You can pick me up at seven!” You call over you shoulder, as you turn on your heel as skip up the stairs to the door once again, disappearing behind it.

“Wait!” Brian calls out, just before the door shuts. You pop your head back out, regarding him with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ll need your address to be able to pick you up!”

You purse your lips for a moment, before laughing. “According to Freddie, you already know where I live!”

“You know for a fact that I don’t!” Brian protests, his hands falling to his side I defeat, as Freddie laugh maniacally from Roger’s van.

“Well Brian, that sounds like a problem you’ll have to figure out! See you Tuesday!” You call merrily, as the door shuts behind you with a sense of finality, leaving Brian stood in the carpark, glaring daggers at the lead singer.

Read Chapter Two

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gtenvs3000-19 · 5 years ago

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The Conclusion of Our Journey

Hello all my readers, as you can tell by the title of this post unfortunately our blog days together are coming to an end. I have enjoyed sharing my perspective on different topics about nature interpretation throughout this semester. As this journey together comes to an end, I thought I would look back on how I have developed as a nature interpreter. So sit back, relax, and let’s conclude this journey.

Photo of my campers and I at the end of our hike / journey. Photo taken by Lucy Cook (co-worker).

My Beliefs

As someone who was raised to respect others, my core belief has always been “you do you, unless it’s hurting others”. Essentially I was raised to not care what others were doing, feeling, saying, loving, etc., unless it was effecting myself or others. I like to bring this same belief into nature. Going on a nature walk every four days at the Bruce Peninsula National Park, you see a lot of different people. My campers would sometimes make fun of other people who were taking selfies, or singing as they hiked, or using walking sticks. I always asked my campers if those people are living their life and what they’re doing isn’t affecting you, why do you care? What difference does it make to your life? Feeling embarrassed, they never really knew how to answer me. I believe that people shouldn’t judge each other especially in nature where everyone should feel accepted. Where my belief changes is if those people are affecting myself or others. A great example would be a young couple my campers and I came across who were smoking cigarettes and throwing their garbage onto the path. I kindly asked them to put their cigarettes out and told them that I could keep their garbage in my bag but suggested they bring a bag of their own next time. My belief of “you do you” changed because what that couple was doing was affecting nature.

Photo of myself at the Bruce Peninsula National Park, a hike where I practice my belief of “you do you unless it’s hurting others”. Photo taken by Jake Godfrey (co-worker).

Another belief I have while being a nature interpreter is that nature is essential to wellness. I believe that children, adults, and seniors should all have the time and the access to go out into nature. As a nature interpreter and someone who is a part of the nature community, I would try my hardest to reach out to everyone and get them outside. I personally believe being outside significantly increases your wellness and your mental health. For example, I had a camper who had recently transitioned and was going through a lot of mental health issues. He didn’t like camp since he was forced to be in girls cabin with a girl councillor (myself) which I cannot even imagine how difficult that would be for him. I finally convinced him to go to the park and when he saw a beautifully time rainbow on the water, he was taken aback. After that moment his mood completely changed. I am not saying that nature completely helped his mental health issues, but it definitely made a positive difference.

Whenever my campers felt stressed, we would take a trip to the garden to calm down. Photo taken by myself.

My Responsibilities

As a nature interpreter, I believe I have many responsibilities, not only to nature but also to my audience. First there are the obvious responsibilities that I have to nature such as to protect and preserve nature. This means stopping people like my littering couple from before from using the earth as their garbage bag. As well, I owe it to nature to be educated and understand what is happening to our earth. This can help me educate the public on real dangers that are happening to our earth, such as climate change, habitat destruction, and more. With education comes preservation. I also have a responsibility to nature to do as much as I can to raise awareness, and get people out there. Getting people out into nature and having them experience it can lead to them loving it. It is harder to see something you love get destroyed.

Photo of an ice cave, not the most normal nature but still super cool to learn about. Photo taken by myself.

The second and maybe most important responsibility I have as a nature interpreter is my responsibility to my audience. I need to make sure that I am inclusive, accepting, and open to all. As my class talked about in my nature interpretation course, nature should be accessible to everyone. Unfortunately as of today I don’t believe nature is truly attainable to all, but one of my responsibilities will be to try as hard as I can so that one day it is. As well as I have talked about many times before, I need to give my audience a gift of a spark. The textbook I have been reading this semester states “To spark an interest, interpreters must relate the subject to the lives of the people in their audience” (Beck and Cable 2011). I need to be able to relate my audiences lives to nature, and spark their interest. “In addition to being passionate for the interpretive site, the interpreter has a passion for sharing his or her knowledge and wisdom with others” (Beck and Cable 2011). The combination of relating and showing the audience my passion will hopefully have my audience leaving the walk, hike, classroom with a new perspective on nature.

Photo of us councillors out on the court hustling to show our passion and hope the kids passion will shine through. Photo taken by Riley Windsor (co-worker).

My Approaches

As I talked about before in my blog post about my scientific hero, there are many approaches to take to teach auditory, visual and tactile learners. The approach I will continue to take and improve on will be taking my audience out into nature and doing an interactive walk / hike with them. I usually have printed out photos of certain flora or fauna that I like to talk about which can appeal to the visual learner. I also usually have paint chips in my backpack and give each student a paint chip and ask them to go find a flora or fauna that matches that paint colour, appealing to my more tactile learners. Finally I give facts and ask my audience questions for my auditory learners. Obviously, every walk / hike needs to be modified depending on the age and maturity of each group, demonstrating the gift of targeted programming.

Photo of fellow councillor and I dressing up before our hike to make it more interactive for the kids. Photo taken by Logan Barnes (co-worker).

Conclusion

I hope my blogs have provided everyone with a different perspective on nature interpretation and have been a joy to read. Thank you to everyone who took the time to read my posts and respond to. I will leave you all with this final question, what more can we do to help nature be more accessible to all?

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lokiarsene · 6 years ago

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and thus concludes my posts about the anime! i’l be watching the OVA tonight as well, but those will be in their own posts.

thoughts on episode 22:

-- i know the story's trying to push the idea that sae is only concerned with getting a promotion for her own personal gain, but the way i see it, she's a woman who was forced to shoulder the burden of being a mother to her younger sister, and then forced to become the family breadwinner after their father was killed. on top of that stress, she's a woman in a male-dominated field, in a sexist society, struggling to be taken seriously and prove herself. why the fuck is it a BAD THING to want a promotion and recognition for how hard you bust your ass?

i guess it’s because all that wrapped up in her willingness to do underhanded things in order to succeed--but i still think her motives are sympathetic. far more so than any of the other PT targets previously (futaba excluded).

-- i forgot about this dual wieldin kid with the 'GET SMOKED' hat and 'NOOBS' coat. he's the coolest.

-- ren being all business with mishima instead of wanting to make small talk is v e r y relatable. mishima's just too fuckin weird, man. like there's no redeeming quality there. he's just WEIRD.

-- THANK YOU FOR YOUR PASSING WORDS OF WISDOM, TINY DUAL GUN-WIELDING CHILD.

-- i'm gonna admit that i barely paid attention to about 98% of this ep because so much of it hinges on changing mishima and i just.......... don't care. i know that dude's been through some awful shit, and i'm not disregarding that at all. he's just one of the many characters failed by the writing.

thoughts on episode 23:

-- ren staring intently at goro's name on the whiteboard has an entirely heterosexual explanation, i'm sure. especially since it comes after makoto saying it'll just be dangerous to invite him.

ren, a bitch who loves danger: *sweats internally*

-- oh look, makoto pointing out how they can use akechi to their advantage (and him totally seeing through that because of course he’d expect people to only be interested in him for their own game--and for the PT to attempt some kind of tricker). i don't see enough people really bringing that up, especially when it comes to akechi's feelings about the PT and akechi's feelings about ren.

-- AKECHI WELCOMES HIM HOME, AHHHHHHHHHHH

-- AND THEY'RE PLAYING CHESS AGAIN

-- AND AKECHI TELLS HIM NOT TO THINK TOO HARD ABOUT HIS NEXT MOVE

-- A H HHHHHHHHHH

-- akechi talkin' shit about shido's understanding of the PT is.... Good.

like i know why he's doing it lmao but it's still nice to hear. one of the things i love about akechi is that he speaks the truth yet it’s not said honestly. Shido DOES misunderstand the motives and goals of the PT. This is true. But Akechi saying it isn’t just support of the PT, it’s to clearly attempt to win Ren over and throw doubt on his suspicions.

Akechi is a character who says honest things for dishonest reasons--and that’s so fucking cool.

-- i genuinely do believe that akechi wants to believe his actions and goals are the same as the PT--because he needs to believe that.

-- ren saying he's going to rip off the 'ghost's mask and ryuji just slAPPING HIM IN THE BACK OF THE HEAD was fucking hysterical

-- "it's a habit. 8I"

-- ren locking up when goro looks at him is...... also a thing

-- "he's cunning." ok i never even considered that--akechi just eats the spiciest takoyaki so he can get the fuck outta there after makin' eyes at ren is the kinda disaster gay behavior i fully understand.

-- akechi slowly and wordlessly gesturing for makoto to continue with her interruption is also very good.

-- GODDAMMIT I LOVE AKECHI SO FUCKING MUCHC

-- gotta love how akechi calls the PT out for using him for info right after ryuji complains that they're being blackmailed~ they're both just using each other~~~ the only sincere interactions goro has is with ren~~~~~~ and even that is coated in his aforementioned ‘honest things said dishonestly’ habit~~~~~~~~`

-- goro looks. right. at. ren. when he asks. if they'll help.

thoughts on episode 24:

-- akechi's distress at being complimented by a girl is duly noted.

-- i forgot how fucking cool sae's shadow looks

-- yknow, i never really thought about the challenge it'd require akechi to maintain his robin hood-rebel form throughout sae's palace. it's very telling that loki only comes out when akechi is pushed to his absolute limit, when he can no longer hold onto himself.

-- goro and ren playing chess in leblanc's afterhours!! is so!! vjdkaljgdsklafuewaiojfsdka

-- "they say bloods thicker than water, right?" THAT'S NOT WHAT THAT SAYING MEANS

-- oh my god akechi and ren privately text each other late at night asking and offeRING HELP TO EACH OTHER AHHHHHHHH

-- ;-; akechi agreeing to help ren's plan to save futaba fjdskafjdslkfdskl by saying he knows exactly how she feels?? im????? he's protecting her???????????? of course he would--he totally understands what she’s going through.

-- AKECHI JUST MAKING A DRAMATIC ENTRANCE TO POINT OUT TO FUTABA'S UNCLE HOW SHE'S A WORTHLESS SHIT AND BRINGS LITERAL RECEIPTS TO PROVE IT FJSAKFJSDKLFDSKL

-- SOJIRO TEARING UP WHEN FUTABA CALLS HIM DAD ;-;

AND HEARING REN SAY THAT HE HASN'T SUFFERED AT ALL SINCE MOVING HERE jfkdsajflkds

-- i will never ever ever get over these little scenes of akechi and ren playing chess together. HOW CAN A GAME OF CHESS HAVE THIS MUCH TENSION IN IT jfkdlskfsld

THE KING PIECE IS A MARK OF REN'S PROMISE

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

thoughts on episode 25:

-- "if the accused is prosecuted, they have very little chance of winning" yeah i know, ace attorney taught me that--and it taught me you can use a parrot to get a not guilty verdict.

-- dear lord they really ran outta money and bumrushed the fuck out of these last few eps, didn't they? it's not quite 'evangelion eps 25 and 26' but MAN it's...... close.

-- nice of akechi to catch ryuji after he gets fried like that

-- TAE PUT A LITTLE DRAWING OF A GUINEA PIG ON THE ENERGY DRINKS HE MADE FOR REN FJDSAKFJDSKL

-- makoto :c

-- hey so uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh how are the cops able to get inside sae's palace?

-- it deserves repeating how fucking cool makoto's persona is because johanna is reALLY FUCKIN COOL

-- ren and akechi just chillin on the side, casually shooting at sae lmao there was just no sense of dramatic tension there at all, i love it

-- oh my god the budget is just gone

-- HOW THE FUCK DID THE COPS GET IN HERE

thoughts on episode 26:

-- i really like the intro on this episode. it's a pity it's the LAST FUCKING EPISODE. why go through the trouble of making this new intro if you're only going to use it once?

-- "dark sun / wherever you shine, eyes turn away / dark sun / what choice have i? to live another day / live another day / live one more day" that's........ bleak. and now i'm just thinking of the song 'black hole sun.'

-- HI ARSENE

-- god there was just too much pointless twists and plot contrivances in this. i completely forgot that joker needing to ~remember his bonds~ was even a thing. it's like this story was written solely with the twists in mind, and not the actual content of the story and how it'd flow and be paced.

-- akechi's actually upset about the cops being there? he even says to himself "this isn't the justice i wanted." he's actually fucking MAD about it! "not yet. i won't let it end here." even if you want to argue that the first part of what he said was a performance, makoto has already left when he gets mad! he has no one to perform for anymore! fjadlfjskld

i suppose you can say he’s mad because he wants to end all of this himself--but that only makes me love him more. NOBODY GETS TO KILL REN BUT HIM.

-- HOW DID THE COPS GET INTO THE FUCKING PALACE

-- how convenient of taro to just dump his backstory on this guy for the audience's sake. too bad it means nothing and goes nowhere.

-- goro says ren's first name ;-;

-- YEAH, GORO, HOW THE FUCK DID THEY GET IN

LMAO AM I STUPID? I FEEL SO STUPID THAT I DON'T UNDERSTAND

-- "I'm sure [the Black Mask] is just a pawn to the true mastermind." AND HE'S FUCKING RIGHT. THERE IS NOT A SINGLE LIE IN THAT SENTENCE.

-- "I'LL BE THE ONE TO SAVE REN." yes, save him with a bullet to the face. i love you, akechi.

-- "REN AND I MADE A DEAL."

-- "I PROMISE I CAN DO THIS." oh my god.

-- AND AKECHI'S WORDS FROM EARLIER, "I WON'T LET IT END HERE," ARE FRAMED ENTIRELY IN BLACK AND WHITE. A HH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

-- this twist is so convoluted and i honestly just. don't. get it. i didn't get it when it first happened, i didn't get it when the game explained it to me. i didn't get it when i could REPEATEDLY ASK FUTABA ABOUT IT AFTER.

-- "nobody would ever know if things get a little violent." akechi pls

-- "is that what you thought i'd say?" I FUCKING LOVE YOU AKECHI

-- have i mentioned how much i fucking love that this episode just ends with akechi SHOOTING JOKER IN THE HEAD lmao because i fucking love it

-- like THEY STRAIGHT UP ENDED THE ANIME LIKE THAT

THEY FUCKIN DID THAT LMFAFIDJLSKAFDSLK

-- AND THEN THAT BIT OF HIM GRINNING AT THE END: "YEAH, RIGHT."

god. the only other villain i love that’s even remotely close to akechi is kylo ren, y’all. gimme all that villain/hero or villain/heroine romance. gimme.

#this is the ask tag #p5 anime #no salt here just hype

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comebackolivia · 6 years ago

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I have some feelings on how Stephanie and Jason get treated in canon and wanted to explore that, so here. Have some character exploration of my two favs.

Posted on my AO3 as chapter 5 of F*ck This Family.

Jason stumbled out of his bedroom, reeking of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke, still dressed in the hoodie he’d been wearing the night before, but it was on backwards and his boots were on the wrong feet. He was pale, his eyes were bloodshot, and overall, he looked like death warmed over as he trudged into his kitchen, gaze trained on the coffeemaker.

He startled, then grimaced when he noticed her sitting on his countertop munching away on a pop-tart.

It took him a bit, but after he’d poured himself a mug of black as pitch coffee and downed half of it, he managed to croak out some words.

“The temptation will be to judge me. Don’t.”

Stephanie smirked, amused. “I got a very interesting text message this morning.” He shot her a glare that was very unimpressive on his hangover from hell complexion, so she continued, undeterred. “Roy asked me to drop by this morning to check that you were still alive and hadn’t choked on your own vomit. Apparently, you drunk dialed him a few times last night, and since he’s all the way across the country, he couldn’t come and check on you himself. How do you feel?”

“How does it fucking look like I feel?” he snapped, and Stephanie’s smirk morphed into a frown. Jason was a lot of things, but he wasn’t usually mean. Not to her at least. He didn’t get roaring drunk either, which meant he’d probably been given a good reason to go out and get wasted.

She’d bet good money it was a fight with someone in the family.

“Who was it?” she asked, more seriously. “Bruce?”

Jason scowled and turned away to rummage through his fridge. After a moment, he corrected, “Dick.”

Stephanie hummed sympathetically. “What happened?”

“He said something stupid and I got pissed off. Then we screamed a lot.”

She grimaced, glad she’d missed that. From what she’d seen lately, Dick had been stretching himself thin and was feeling the pressure. Prolonged stress made him crabby and shortened his temper, which was always more explosive than people believed of him. It wouldn’t have taken much for him to snap at his brother, and Jason never took that kind of thing well.

“Wanna talk about it?” Steph offered after a moment of silence.

Jason laid some strips of bacon on a hot pan and turned his attention to scrambling some eggs. “He’s a fucking dick. What else is there to say?”

Stephanie pursed her lips. As much as he joked around about it, the second Robin didn’t tend to drink in excess. Not with their lifestyles and not with his personal history. He’d told her once that his father had been a mean drunk. She knew what that was like, and knew it likely meant avoiding getting drunk altogether for Jason, at least until shit hit the fan.

“Whatever he said, he’s wrong,” she piped up, making Jason’s shoulders stiffen where he stood at the stove with his back to her. She probably shouldn’t have said anything. It wasn’t her business and Jason and Dick didn’t need her butting in, but she knew what it was like, to never be fully part of this family—to be considered the problem child—the easy target when the others were passing around blame.

From the beginning she’d had to fight her way out of the shadow of Jason Todd. She’d been compared to him left and right, told she was too much like him and it would get her killed one day. She was constantly looked down on as not good enough, too wild, untrainable. Whatever. How much worse was it for Jason who was the standard of badness she’d been judged against?

It was bullshit and she’d raged against it more than once. Because now that she knew him, she could see that she and Jason were nothing alike. Sure, they had similar backgrounds, their personalities meshed well together, and they made a great team in boardgames, but they operated completely differently. Jason was a planner, always had his eye on the prize, a big picture thinker. But, he wasn’t tied to it. He could shift or adapt if he needed to, and the second he felt that the victim was more important than the big picture, he’d throw the big picture right out the window. She respected the hell out of that, because what was the point of it all if they weren’t helping the victims? The individuals. The people who deserved justice, but couldn’t be heard amidst the bureaucracy, corruption, and bullshit. She might not always like his methods, she’d never approve of him killing, but she respected his motivation. She felt that same drive.

But that’s where the similarities ended. They had the same compassion, but where Jason was a planner, Stephanie wore her heart on her sleeve and followed wherever it took her. Jason only appeared impulsive. Stephanie actually was. Over time though, she’d been able to turn it into a strength. Impulsiveness transitioned to adaptability and that was a major asset to have in the field.

The fact that she still took crap for it drove her nuts. The fact that she was still constantly compared to Jason drove her even more nuts.

It wasn’t fair to either of them. They operated differently, had different strengths that helped them be effective in the field. What the others did and said diminished them. It ignored their strengths and compounded their weaknesses. And it was total and utter bullshit. Neither of them got enough credit. They were both good at what they did, and they were good in different ways. The fact that the rest of the family, some of the smartest people on the planet, couldn’t see that? Well, it pissed her the hell off.

So whatever Dick had said, even if it had been coming from a place of stress and exhaustion, she knew it was wrong. Jason needed to know that too.

“You ever get sick of it?” he asked after a moment, voice scratchy and shoulders hunched. He still hadn’t turned away from the stove.

“Of what?”

“Being the family punching bags,” he retorted. “The ones they lash out at when they’re feeling pissy. Bruce does it all the fucking time. Dick too. He won’t with Tim, Damian, or Cass, but you and me are fair game. Every time.”

Her gaze darkened. She knew exactly what he was talking about. She’d experienced it countless times. Bruce was stressed so he’d ream her out for something she did in the field. Something small and insignificant that hadn’t affected anything whatsoever, but still wasn’t what Bruce would have done so clearly it was stupid, impulsive, childish, whatever. Barbara had a tendency to do it as well—snap at her whenever she was stressed. Chew her out for something that had nothing to do with anything. She didn’t get a lot of it from Dick, but she had been snapped at by him plenty of times. And yeah, they didn’t tend to handle their stress in functional, healthy ways, and she’d seen Damian and Tim get snapped at plenty of times. But it wasn’t the same. It was never quite so acidic with them.

“Yes,” she answered plainly because it was true. She often found herself wondering what the hell she was even doing with them when it was so clear she would never fit the way they wanted her too. She almost hadn’t come back after Black Mask, and sometimes she questioned why she had at all. She had her reasons of course, but in her weaker moments she wondered if it was worth it.

At her reply, Jason finally turned from the stove to face her. His face was still pale, and she thought that maybe his red eyes were a little waterier than they’d been when he first walked in. Her stomach clenched in sympathy.

“You ever consider saying ‘fuck ‘em’ and walking away from it all?”

It was like he was reading her mind. “Yes,” she admitted.

Jason frowned and turned back to the stove. Steph watched, suddenly feeling tired as he loaded a plate with bacon, scrambled eggs and toast. She was surprised when he handed the plate to her and fixed another one for herself.

They ate in silence.

“I don’t want to let them be right about me,” she spoke up once they were almost finished.

“They’re not,” Jason answered immediately. “Spite’s a hell of a motivator though, so keep proving them wrong.”

Stephanie smirked, feeling the heaviness that had settled in the room finally lift a little. “I am a kickass vigilante fueled by bitterness and spite,” she declared wryly.

Jason snorted into his coffee, then raised the mug. “Here, here.”

“Seriously though, you okay?” she asked after another smaller stretch of silence. There was a little more color in his face after eating breakfast. Greasy breakfast foods weren’t her go to hangover cure, but it seemed to do a decent job of dragging Jason back from the brink of hangover death.

“Yeah. It’s only a matter of time before Dick tracks me down or finds my new number and apologizes. It’ll take longer for me to accept the apology though. I’ll probably hold off until he starts bringing me food and shit.”

“Nice,” Stephanie replied, bobbing her head in approval. Then she paused and asked, “When did you get a new number?”

“I haven’t yet, but I vaguely remember chucking my phone of the roof of a building last night, so I’ll have to do that at some point.”

Stephanie snorted. She couldn’t help it. The mental image of grumpy, drunk Jason throwing a phone off a Gotham roof was hilarious. He was so overly dramatic.

“What the hell were you doing on top of a building wasted? That’s a health and safety no-no, you know,” she retorted with a teasing smirk. “What were you doing, serenading the pigeons?”

“Performing Hamlet with the gargoyles if you must know.”

“Oh god,” she exclaimed, cracking up at just the thought of drunk off his ass Jason dramatically declaring “To be or not to be” to a gargoyle audience. “You have no idea how much I’d give to have seen that.”

“Yeah, well it was a one time performance so you snooze you lose, Blondie.”

“Yeah, well your hoodie is on backwards,” she retorted, snickering at his surprised look as he realized it was actually on backwards.

“The fuck?” he wondered quietly, pulling at the hood that had been settled at his neck. How he missed this while eating was beyond Steph.

“And your boots are on the wrong feet.”

Jason looked down and groaned loudly, much to Stephanie’s delight. “Fucking hell. I knew something felt off.”

“You also stink. Like horrendously. What’d you do? Bathe in vodka and cigarette ash?”

“Shut up. I fed you and this is the thanks I get?”

“Yeah, you fed me, but does it really count if there weren’t waffles?”

“Yes, it absolutely counts.”

“Whatever. Go shower. I’ll find something for us to watch on Netflix.”

“Ugh, fine,” Jason said, standing up and heading towards the bathroom. “But it better not be one of those sad wildlife documentaries where the baby animals die.”

“That was one time!” she called back. “I didn’t know they were going to die!”

Still, as she settled into the couch, she googled the next episode of Planet Earth to make sure there’d be no surprises. All the while, a warmth spread through her chest because Jason was letting her keep him company. They might sometimes be the punching bags for the rest of the family, but it was nice to know that she had his back and he had hers. They could handle the others.

#jason todd #Stephanie Brown #batfamily #these two deserve better

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lionwall08-blog · 6 years ago

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Movies to Watch on Thanksgiving: From ‘Soul Food’ to ‘Big Night’

A truly great Thanksgiving movie needs to have a few key components. A big meal of some sort is essential, of course, but that feast can be anything — no turkey or cranberry sauce necessary. Ideally, this dinner is the main attraction or the destination at the end of a journey, and the food should be hard to prepare and ceremoniously grand. Perhaps most importantly, a great Thanksgiving film needs to show people making mistakes and learning something about themselves, even in some small way.

Like the holiday meal itself, an awesome Thanksgiving movie should be messy, heartfelt, and satisfying enough to make you want a second helping. With that in mind, here are recommendations for eight movies to watch on the greatest food holiday of the calendar year:

Soul Food

Directed by George Tillman Jr., 1997

Soul Food is not technically a Thanksgiving movie, but it may as well be. The film is about one African-American Chicago family whose members are heading in completely different directions, butting heads along the way. The thing keeping them together, though, is Big Mama “Mother Jo,” the matriarch of the family, and her weekly Sunday dinners. This movie is a bit of a classic in many African-American families thanks in part to its genuine portrayal of the black family, the black matriarch, and black cuisine. It also has a bunch of highly appealing shots of soul food, which always seem to evoke some audible response from audiences. But deeper than that, the story is really about how no matter what circumstances many families face, they can count on one thing to bring them together: a delicious family meal. — Vince Dixon

Stream it on: Amazon Prime Video, YouTube Movies, Google Play

Big Night

Directed by Stanley Tucci and Campbell Scott, 1996

The best you can hope for this holiday season is to host a dinner that even remotely resembles the feast at the end of this mid-’90s indie film about two Italian brothers operating a struggling restaurant on the Jersey shore. The wine flows freely, the guests “ooh” and “ahh” after every bite, and the chef somehow manages to top himself with each consecutive course. The grand finale, the majestic pasta casserole called the Timpano, is so captivating in this film that chef Mark Ladner decided to turn this fictional dish into a real-life course at New York City’s four-star Italian restaurant, Del Posto. Sadly, the resolution of the meal is not as grand as the Timpano — it’s rather sad, actually. But the real value of Big Night, besides all that great culinary eye candy, is showing how cooking an epic, stressful meal can bring you closer to your family. — Greg Morabito

Stream it on: Amazon Prime Video, YouTube Movies, Google Play, iTunes

Home for the Holidays

Directed by Jodie Foster, 1995

It’s hard to imagine a bigger all-star cast for an under-the-radar movie that came out in 1995. Holly Hunter! Robert Downey Jr.! Anne Bancroft! Dylan McDermott! A young Claire Danes! And Jodie Foster is directing! The gang’s all here. Claudia Larson (Hunter) is an art restorer who is fired from her gig at a Chicago museum due to federal funding cuts right before she flies home to Baltimore for Thanksgiving. Claudia has a precocious teenage daughter who announces plans to have sex with her boyfriend; an overbearing, cigarette-smoking mother; dry wit; and an angsty, pessimistic view of the world. This is what happens when Generation X makes a holiday movie.

Home for the Holidays is one of those movies in which the whole family gathers around the table, and dinner ends in chaos because everyone is too self-absorbed, no one is happy, and, really, no one is likable. Despite all that, it’s hard not to feel warm and fuzzy while watching this movie. Plus, for the folks who dread late November because of their own family drama, Claudia offers some sage advice following her holiday experience: “Nobody means what they say on Thanksgiving.” — Chris Fuhrmeister

Stream it on: Hulu, Amazon Prime Video, YouTube Movies, Google Play, Starz

Eat Drink Man Woman

Directed by Ang Lee, 1994

There’s no turkey or mashed potatoes involved, but Ang Lee’s early triumph Eat Drink Man Woman is a good movie to watch on Thanksgiving because it’s all about the intersection of totally amazing cooking and long-simmering family drama. The story focuses on the romantic exploits of three daughters and their widowed father, who’s considered one of the greatest chefs in Taipei, despite his atrophying taste buds. Most of this movie is composed of short scenes where every word, gesture, and pause means something. (It’s no surprise, then, that Lee’s follow up to this film was the wildly successful adaptation of Jane Austen’s Sense & Sensibility.)

Even if you don’t want to commit to the whole 2 hour and 10 minute saga, at least watch the opening montage, which is undeniably one of the greatest cooking sequences ever committed to film. — GM

Stream it on: Amazon Prime Video, iTunes

What’s Cooking?

Directed by Gurinder Chadha, 2000

This may not be the most memorable or classic Thanksgiving-themed film, but it is certainly one of the more relevant ones in today’s political climate. The movie follows four diverse households as they prepare Thanksgiving feasts for their families. But the dinners only serve as a catalyst for a series of revelations, secrets, reopened wounds, and kitchen battles, all culminating in an interesting twist. The way the film depicts how seemingly different groups actually share more in common than even the viewers might realize makes it particularly fun to watch during these divisive times. — VD

Stream it on: Amazon Prime Video, YouTube, iTunes, Google Play

Julie & Julia

Directed by Nora Ephron, 2009

You’ve Got Mail is the Nora Ephron movie that’s actually set during Thanksgiving, but Julie & Julia is the one that you want to watch on Thursday because it truly embodies the spirit of the holiday. This movie is all about trying to improve your life through the act of cooking. Meryl Streep got heaps of praise for her performance as Julie Child, but really, Amy Adams steals the show with her portrayal of dogged food blogger Julie Powell. If you’ve ever felt out of your league while in the midst of a complicated recipe or holiday meal plan, you can surely relate to this protagonist.

The food looks great, the dramatic payoffs are well-earned, and several parts of this film contain enviable scenes of Julie and her friends living their best lives in a fashionably shabby Queens apartment with a terrace overlooking the Manhattan skyline. Consider this the ultimate Friendsgiving film. — GM

Stream it on: Netflix, Amazon Video, YouTube, iTunes, Google Play

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

Directed by John Hughes, 1987

Lots of people love Thanksgiving. Hardly anyone enjoys traveling for Thanksgiving. Planes, Trains, and Automobiles captures the pure hell that is trying to make it home, across the country, in time to carve the turkey when the forces of the universe, Mother Nature, and the transportation industry are refusing to cooperate.

Neal Page (Steve Martin) is a traveling businessman, working meetings in New York City right up until a last-minute flight back to Chicago. Del Griffith (John Candy) is making the same trip and acts as Neal’s buffoon of a foil, constantly causing trouble and blathering on with generally annoying conversation as the two are repeatedly thrown together throughout their journey back to the Windy City. It’s an arduous trek that, as the title of the film suggests, involves planes, trains, and automobiles. This being a John Hughes comedy from the 1980s, there are plenty of slapstick antics along the way — “those aren’t pillows!”

As he did in later movies such as The Great Outdoors and Uncle Buck, Hughes made Candy’s character a struggling working stiff trying to hold onto his spot in the middle class and the target of abuse from his miserable-but-financially comfortable counterpart (maybe 2018 is the right time for a remake of this movie). Del is a lowly shower curtain ring salesman, and Neal is an executive with an advertising firm. But despite their respective places on the social latter, it is Del who teaches Neal how to live a richer life. Hughes pictures may be crass at times, but they’re always wholesome in the end. — CF

Stream it on: Amazon Prime Video, YouTube Movies, Google Play, iTunes

YouTube/Fox Searchlight

Fantastic Mr. Fox Directed by Wes Anderson, 2009

Even though it’s not explicitly about any human holiday, Wes Anderson’s 2009 stop-animation extravaganza Fantastic Mr. Fox is really one of the best Thanksgiving movies out there. A lot of the action revolves around acquiring and consuming delicious food and drinks, and in one memorable scene, the entire animal clan sits around a table stacked with a sumptuous autumnal meal, as the titular hero (voiced by George Clooney) toasts to their good fortune. Besides all the food stuff, this movie totally embodies that special time of the year when fall is about to shift over into winter. The kids will watch this one because of the talking animals, and the adults will dig it because of the snappy dialogue and stunning visual style. — GM

Stream it on: Amazon Prime Video, YouTube, Google Play, iTunes

Also of note: The geriatric holiday prank-fest Grumpy Old Men is definitely the second-best movie that Jack Lemon and Walter Matthau ever starred in together, and it still holds up after all these years. Ang Lee’s 1997 masterpiece The Ice Storm follows two Connecticut families over the course of Thanksgiving break as they deal with different social changes by experimenting with casual sex, drinks, and drugs — and eventually find themselves cracking at the seams. Culinary documentary The Search for General Tso tells an inspiring and essential story about the growth of family-run restaurants in America. And finally, if you’re just looking for a lighthearted food-filled romp to watch on the holiday, consider Japanese cult classic Tampopo.

— With help from Esra Erol

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Source: https://www.eater.com/2017/11/20/16657944/best-thanksgiving-movies-food-stream

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