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longitudinalwaveme · 3 years ago

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Arkham Files: Mirror Master I (Samuel Joseph Scudder)

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Samuel Joseph Scudder, also known as the Mirror Master. The patient displays a number of antisocial and narcissistic tendencies, and clearly has a nicotine addiction, but no formal diagnosis has ever been given to him, and since he, like the rest of the so-called “Rogues”, arrived at Arkham only a few days ago, I have not had the time to give him a complete psychological examination. Session One. So, Mr. Scudder, how are you today?

Mirror Master: (Blows puff of cigarette smoke) For suddenly having been sent a thousand miles away from home? Not bad, I suppose.

Hugo Strange: Yes, I can see how that would be stressful. Believe me, having suddenly gained over a dozen new patients in one fell swoop is not an ideal situation for me, either.

Mirror Master: Don’t sweat it, Doctor. I’ll be out of here in a few days anyway.

Hugo Strange: I very much doubt that, Mr. Scudder. Arkham Asylum’s security has been improved considerably since the days of the unfortunate Dr. Jeremiah Arkham.

Mirror Master: It doesn’t matter how good the security is, Doctor. The prison hasn’t been built yet that can keep me locked up.

Hugo Strange: You are not a metahuman, Mr. Scudder. As long as we do not allow you undue access to technology, you will not be able to effect one of the fantastic escapes for which you are so well known.

Mirror Master: (Blows a puff of smoke) You a betting man, Doctor?

Hugo Strange: Not particularly, Mr. Scudder.

Mirror Master: Too bad. I was going to bet you that I’d be out of this joint in a week or less.

Hugo Strange: If those are the terms of your ‘bet’, then I might be willing to relax my standards on betting. In the parlance of gambling, my victory will be a “sure thing”.

Mirror Master: So, do we have a bet, doctor?

Hugo Strange: Do we not need to, ah, set the terms for victory first?

Mirror Master: You’re right. If I win, well...I’m out of prison, and you have to acknowledge that I can beat your supposedly impervious security system.

Hugo Strange: And if I win, you will make no more escape attempts and will attend psychological sessions with me regularly.

Mirror Master: It’s a bet. (The two shake hands)

Hugo Strange: Now that that is out of the way, Mr. Scudder, I would like to make it clear that Arkham Asylum is not a prison. It is a mental hospital; a place of psychological healing.

Mirror Master: Then why am I here? I’m perfectly sane.

Hugo Strange: You call yourself the “Mirror Master” and commit crimes whilst wearing a hideous orange-and-green leotard. If that isn’t a sign of emotional disturbance, I do not know what is.

Mirror Master: It’s a costume, Doctor. You know, like the ones actors wear while putting on a show? If they’re not insane, then neither am I.

Hugo Strange: The two situations are not at all synonymous, Mr. Scudder. Crime is not a performance.

Mirror Master: (Blows puff of smoke) The crimes aren’t the performance, Doctor. I commited crimes a long time before I put on the costume. The performance is being the Mirror Master.

Hugo Strange: Ordinary criminals do not turn their crimes into elaborate performances, Mr. Scudder.

Mirror Master: And that, my dear Doctor, is what separates the criminals...from the supervillains.

Hugo Strange: So, in your mind, the crimes you commit as the Mirror Master, with the silly costume and the incredible technology, they aren’t for money?

Mirror Master: Well, the money’s nice...but the real fun of being the Mirror Master is the challenge. Matching wits with the Flash, outwitting security, getting my name in the papers-that’s the real reason I became the Mirror Master. If I’d just wanted to get rich, I could’ve done that easily.

Hugo Strange: Yes, I was just about to mention that. Your records indicate that, among other things, you have invented or discovered an alternate dimension known as the Mirror Realm, which enables you to teleport between locations, mirrors that can hold people’s reflections, a 3D printer that makes perfect mirror images of people, hypnotic technology that works over long distances, a mirror that predicts the future, a mirror that lets you switch your legs with other people’s legs, a number of laser weapons, some sort of flying car, a mirror-powered jet pack, a mirror that allows you to shrink and enlarge yourself and other people, mirrors that create a wide variety of fantastical illusions, a weapon that turns people into glass, a weapon that reverses the way that the brain perceived the world, guns that can transform stolen jewelry into light beams (and back again) for the purposes of easy transport, and a weapon that distorts people’s bodies.

Mirror Master: (Blows out a puff of smoke) I’m a man of many talents, Doctor.

Hugo Strange: Obviously. What’s more, when you arrived here, we administered a number of psychological and intelligence tests to you, and the results were remarkable.

Mirror Master: How so?

Hugo Strange: In spite of the fact that your records indicate that you never graduated from high school, your overall intelligence score was somewhere around 174. In other words, Mr. Scudder...you are a genius.

Mirror Master: (Whistles) Well, I always knew I was smart...but I’ve gotta admit, I didn’t realize I was that smart.

Hugo Strange: Mr. Scudder, you are, quite bluntly, one of the most astonishing scientists of our generation. You could easily have made yourself rich and famous legitimately.

Mirror Master: Yeah, well, here’s the thing, Doctor. By the time I made those discoveries, I was already a convict. People don’t exactly line up to hire liquor store robbers from Skid Row, even if they are geniuses. Besides, why should I try to help science and society? What did they ever do for me, except put me behind bars?

Hugo Strange: After you had robbed a liquor store, Mr. Scudder.

Mirror Master: (Blows puff of smoke) In case you haven’t figured it out, Doctor, I’m not a very good person.

Hugo Strange: No, Mr. Scudder, you are not a good man...but you are also a very sick man, and it is my duty to help you.

Mirror Master: What do you mean, I’m sick?

Hugo Strange: By your own testimony, you dress up in costume and commit crimes as though it’s some sort of grand performance. You have repeatedly ignored opportunities to make money legitimately, and even your crimes focus more on showmanship than on actually making a profit. In fact, the only times your crimes show a profit requisite to the amount of effort you put into committing them are when you are working alongside the other so-called Rogues, which, I suspect, is largely attributable to the fact that Mr. Leonard Snart puts some effort into keeping your idiosyncrasies in check when you work together. All of this suggests that you are emotionally disturbed, Mr. Scudder.

Mirror Master: So I’m dramatic. That hardly makes me a candidate for a rubber room, Doctor.

Hugo Strange: I’m afraid I would have to disagree, Mr. Scudder. And I am the medical professional here. (Pause) So, Mr. Scudder, I repeat: why the costume? Mirror Master: I told you already. It’s part of the performance.

Hugo Strange: And your decision to wear this costume had nothing whatsoever to do with the costumed vigilante who runs around Central City?

Mirror Master: What, you mean the Flash? He really didn’t have much to do with it. I put on the costume before I ever met him. He makes commiting crimes more fun, but I would’ve become the Mirror Master regardless of whether there was a Speedster around to fight.

Hugo Strange: So the Flash did not inspire the Mirror Master?

Mirror Master: (Blows puff of smoke) No.

Hugo Strange: Then what, exactly, inspired you to put on the spandex leotard?

Mirror Master: Well, you’ve gotta admit it’s memorable.

Hugo Strange: I suppose so.

Mirror Master: But in all seriousness, I was a big fan of JSA comic books as a kid. I always thought their costumes were pretty cool; if anything inspired my costume; it was theirs.

Hugo Strange: So the Mirror Master was inspired by the so-called Mystery Men of the 1940s and 1950s?

Mirror Master: Yeah. Let me tell you, if anyone understood showmanship, it was the JSA. Those guys were my heroes.

Hugo Strange: In that case, is it not counterintuitive that you became a supervillain? I was under the impression that the JSA comics presented those vigilantes as unambiguous heroes.

Mirror Master: (Blows puff of smoke) You know, I never really thought about it like that before.

Hugo Strange: Then allow me to posit my own theory. (Strange pulls out Mirror Master’s file, papers rustle as he does so) According to your files, you were born to Percival and Martha Scudder. Your father died of cancer when you were only seven months old, and his medical bills consumed all of your parents’ money. As a result, your mother was forced to move with you to a glorified tenement building on the spot where Morrow Street and Baker Street met. The area was colloquially known as “Skid Row”, and poverty, crime, and drug addiction were rampant. Your mother, a seamstress, had to work long hours just to make ends meet, so you were often left at home alone. You and your mother never had enough clothes or enough to eat. When you were six years old, your next-door neighbor was murdered in a violent drug dispute; you were at home to hear the gunshot. When you were eight, you witnessed a violent brawl that ended in a man being sent to the hospital; when you were twelve, you watched another neighbor die of a drug overdose.

Mirror Master: (Obviously uncomfortable) Can we please stop talking about this?

Hugo Strange: Mr. Scudder, until you acknowledge what happened to you, you cannot make progress.

Mirror Master: I do acknowledge what happened! I know Skid Row was a crappy place to grow up; I’m not pretending it wasn’t! But that doesn’t mean I want to talk about it!

Hugo Strange: Mr. Scudder, I understand your discomfort, but unless we talk about what happened to you, I will not be able to help you. (Pause) To continue: As a boy, you were very close to a young girl named Jennifer Conners, who lived in the apartment across from yours. Her father, a minister at a local church, soon became like a father to you. He even served as your Scoutmaster. You were a Boy Scout, Mr. Scudder. You even earned the title of Eagle Scout when you were fourteen. That’s highly irregular for a costumed criminal.

Mirror Master: (Trying to change the subject) Yeah, well, I’ve always been extraordinary.

Hugo Strange: That is not the point, Mr. Scudder. The point is, until you were sixteen years old, you were a remarkably well-behaved child in spite of your dreadful environment. You got good grades, you loved comics about so-called superheroes, you were a Boy Scout-you were not a juvenile delinquent in any sense of the word. What changed, Mr. Scudder?

Mirror Master: (Angry) Why do you need me to tell you? Isn’t it in my files?

Hugo Strange: It is, but I think it is important that you admit it, Mr. Scudder.

Mirror Master: (Blows puff of smoke) Fine! What changed was that I watched Mr. Conners get shot right in front of me! (Blows another puff of smoke) He was the best man I knew, and it still didn’t stop him from getting murdered by one of the Candy Man’s drug dealers.

Hugo Strange: The...Candy Man?

Mirror Master: Jack Monteleone. (Blows puff of smoke) He controls Central City’s drug empire.

Hugo Strange: I see. So, your beloved father figure was killed in front of you. I’d imagine that produced a great deal of anxiety.

Mirror Master: (Blows puff of smoke) No duh, Sherlock.

Hugo Strange: As such, you decided to start self-medicating with alcohol and cigarettes. Eventually, this got you mixed up with the party crowd at your school. Your grades slipped rapidly, and, by the time you were seventeen, you had dropped out of school and run away from home so that you could better feed your addictions. You committed a number of petty crimes before robbing a local liquor store at the age of 19, whereupon you were sent to prison. While serving your sentence, you discovered the Mirror Realm, and upon your release, you became the Mirror Master.

Mirror Master: (Blows puff of smoke) So, how exactly does my life story prove that I’m crazy?

Hugo Strange: Mr. Scudder, you are not “crazy”. What you are, however, is a child living a fantasy life. You used to self-medicate with alcohol; now you deal with your trauma by putting on a mask and playing an elaborate game of cops and robbers with your city’s scarlet-clad vigilante. By becoming this “Mirror Master”, you are reenacting the comic book stories that you loved as a child. You may be a warped reflection of the JSA, but you have nevertheless created a world for yourself where good and evil are simple and clear-cut and no one will ever really get hurt. And the Flash is enabling your fantasy.

Mirror Master: (Blows a puff of smoke) Or-and here’s a novel concept-I do it because I like money and attention.

Hugo Strange: Nothing is ever that simple, Mr. Scudder.

Mirror Master: (Blows a puff of smoke) I’m really looking forward to watching you have to eat your words when I escape, Doctor.

Hugo Strange: And when you fail to escape, I will look forward to helping you deal with your nicotine addiction, Mr. Scudder. Regardless, I think that it is time for this session to come to an end. We have covered enough ground for one day.

#flash rogues #dr. hugo strange #flash comics #batman comics #mirror master #sam scudder #fanfic

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goldenfharry · 3 years ago

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Anywho! It’s been happening behind the scenes for a while now. H was meant to look absolutely MISERABLE in those last pictures of them together as one final kick. The narrative of “They were really trying but it just wasn’t working” is going to be a heavy push. Everyone thinking mud slinging is going to be heavy with this is wrong. Well maybe at first at least. They need to be on good terms until the movie premieres. After that things could shift, it’s 50/50 depending on how the public perceives her without him. This will be the start of a new phase of Harry and his life. I really implore everyone to read a book, go on a run, get to know yourself! This is going to really bring you to the mindset Harry had when writing the new album.

Okay then 👆 this is what tra anon stated as fact as another anon said and it’s irritating because they clearly said they don’t have info in fact it would be easier if they were here giving their opinion presenting them as opinion.

1. Harry was not supposed to look miserable, in fact he wasn’t. Don’t forget he’s in all of this. He could’ve just said not because this last pap walk was not necessary. And yeah I know about the yacht but that’s another thing. They needed to make people talk then here it was just unnecessary. But he did and like it or not they hung out other times obv not hand in hand.

2. The narrative does not exist! Simply because whatever you choose to believe you probably noticed they change things basing on what they read online also. Which means there’s not a line they’re following. Specially her team. Harry is just doing nothing. Personally I think they’re just trying any possible way to keep going.

3.harry is not in bad terms with her and is not forced in this. He’s doing his part with the bare minimum effort publicly. But he’s not pretending to be in good terms when he can’t stand her. They’re friendly because at the very least they’re co working on this.

4.it’s not about how the public perceive her alone. If it needs to end it will. That’s all. If they continue it’s because they want to. As I said nothing is scripted. If you think there’s something real well there can’t be an end date (just saying I’m not taking position in all of this)

5.the new phase in Harry’s life means nothing and all at the same time because every change career wise is a new phase in his life, with or without her around.

6.I personally hope this person is right about Harry coming back to be the person he was before Olivia but this can be predicted in any way. I am the first to hate her presence around believe me and I would never ship them together. I can’t wait for the moment this will be finally over.

This all said I don’t wanna attack tea anon that’s not my intention but it’s not good to create false hope around when it’s impossible to know for sure what’s going on. We all are hoping for the best that for sure but I went through a moment where I thought something was changing and when it didn’t I didn’t take it well. Obv it didn’t affect my life I’m talking in term of hope for him because I truly believe he deserves much better than this. Ok well goodbye for now

We all are hoping for the best that for sure but I went through a moment where I thought something was changing and when it didn’t I didn’t take it well.

I will leave this for tea anon to see and maybe answer

BUT I need to do a personal comment about this and it applies to everyone that is reading this. If you get to this point, where you can't deal when stuff doesn't go like we say (which is fine, this is a very unpredictable path), and an ask does this to you, you should, for your own good, take a break. That's a sign that you need to step away! I can say to you that I did that, I didn't even had a blog yet when I decided to step away, because of the anxiety that this was provoking me. I couldn't even listen to Harry's music anymore because I was so on edge. I literally stopped reading articles, seeing insta and twitter updates and stopped using twitter. And I'm so glad that I did because I came stronger, and created my own blog to give my own visions, without hesitance. And this is mandatory, YOU FIRST. It's not worth your mental health, never! And if anyone who is reading this wants to express their feelings in a more open way, my dms are open, always. I'm glad I can say this because I wanted to say it for a while now. We need to respect our boundaries!!! Harry wouldn't want you to sacrifice your piece of mind.

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blueriza · 4 years ago

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Partecipating to the @nakunakunomi 750 Followers Event! 😊 Congratulations dear!! I tried to write something in english, despite it is not my native language. Despite this, I hope you can enjoy my story/scenario anyway!

Aqua Laguna and Us

[Rob Lucci x Female Reader]

· Cliche prompt: Kissing in the rain

· Random word to include: Enthusiasm

Word count: 1219

Aqua Laguna is going to be here, again. For all the people who live in Water Seven, Aqua Laguna is always an event that cannot be forgot. A very big wave (just one?), the rain, a strong wind... every year all the citiziens need to be ready to deal with it, specially the people who live in the lower part of the city.

The carpenters need to leave their works too, as it will be impossible continue their deals with all these waves and such rain. Even the Galley-La Company has to stop. You are busy to prepare yourself for the Aqua Laguna too, closing your home after moving away in a safer place with all your goods. There is a particularly heavy sack you are trying to lift and carry, without great results. When you have a lot of things and you want to save them... you curse yourself for this. You are fumbling with that bag, when suddenly you feel a firm but gentle touch on the back of your hands, from behind.

“You shouldn’t lift such heavy things without asking for help, if you struggle so much.”

It is a familiar deep voice and a reassuring physical presence for you, but this sudden arrival takes you by surprise and the heavy bag slips from your hands.

“Lucci!” you exclaim, while he moves fastly to grab your falling bag.

Lucci reached your side very rapidly: you are already used to his reaction times, but everytime is almost as it is the first time you see him act so fast. Around him is flying Hattori, which is cooing for a while, then the pigeon returns on his right shoulder after Lucci regains his straight composture, still keeping the bag for you.

“Thank you Lucci...”

“No need to thanks me: you just could have told me when you wanted to organize yourself for the Aqua Laguna, and I would have give you a hand with the moving.”

Maybe he is right, but you just thought he was occupied with her works at the docks too. This year the news about the annual and upcoming Aqua Laguna were given earlier than usual. You just hadn’t time to tell him. And you explain this to the carpenter. You want to be honest with him, because he was honest with you: a day, during a lunch together, he told you he is an agent for the government. At first you thought he is joking, but you know his way of being enough to understand he wasn’t joking: he is too serious and... you have chosen to believe him. He said that only once, and he reminded you to keep it to yourself. Lucci is a reserved man and when he wants to tell you something, he does it. For everything else about this “other life”, you don’t dare to ask anything if he doesn’t want give details. What and when to explain are his choices, and the fact that he have decided to said you the truth about him is anyway an important sign of trust between you two.

Lucci understands your explanation and nods: it is true, this year the Aqua Laguna is coming earlier than usual. The air is already a bit wet for the upcoming bad weather: Lucci’s curly hair are already starting to be a bit wilder as very little rain drops are falling from the sky.

“I already finished my commitments at the docks, or whatever else I had to do. Now let me help you...” he says forthright, taking easily the heavy bag you were struggling with, and also another one on the other shoulder, where Hattori is, the bird coos and looks at you.

You accept his aid with enthusiasm, but maintaining a composed attitude.

“This island is so beautiful... it is a pity we have Aqua Laguna every year, which menacing the quiet living of the population...” you say unhappily.

“A sad reality. If it continue like this, Water Seven will be abandoned soon...”

“For a city of shipwrights, it could be... terrible. Despite I suppose the Galley-La Company may will go in another island and works there.”

Another place. This means to find again a new house... a new life. You are literally born in Water Seven, but you need also to be realist: before or after, you could leave this island. You don’t know what Lucci can do or where he might go: after all, he is a carpenter and... an agent for the Government. Where truly is his real home? Does he have it one or just... ?

“And you...?” you ask to Lucci, not sure about looking at him or not. Lucci, on the other hand, stares at you.

“Me?”

“Yeah... I mean...Where are you-..”

“I will think about it when the situation of the island will be declared. Everything might happen every day, and depends where my presence is needed.”

“Yeah, right...” you mutter, unsure what to think about your future, his future and... both together. You don't know how long your story together could last, you should be honest with yourself: he is a mysterious man and despite he decided to open himself with you, his life is after all... not so stable, perhaps.

The man then stops walking and you finally gaze at him. What if you said something wrong? After all, nothing has yet been decided for the definitive abandonment of the island in future terms.

“Nothing. Just forget what I said...”

Lucci perceive something wrong with you. Still remaining serious, as he always be, Lucci walks in front of you and stops yourself, grabbing one of your wrists with your surprise. In the meanwhile the weather was getting worse, starting to rain harder. You know how Lucci doesn’t like the rain... despite that, he is here, keeping you in front of him. The bags he is carrying are still on his shoulders and it seems they are like inexistent. He hugs you in a slightly rude way, one hand grabbing your wrist and the other on your waist. Without any warning or asking anything, his lips meet yours and you two are kissing in the rain. It isn’t a long kiss, but it was enough passionate but delicate in a own way. The words “Rob Lucci” and “delicate” are often on two different rails, but sometimes they... meet, even slightly. His wet hair touch your face as he kisses you, but you don’t mind. You hug him, touching his back.

“(Y/N)... there will be always a place for you in my plans, here or elsewhere.”

Your eyes are fixed on his.

“Reall--...”

“Don’t doubt this. I asked you to believe me and to keep my secrets for yourself. There are few people to whom I gave my trust... and you are one of these few...”

He shared his secrets with you, he usually doesn’t talk too much, but receiving his confidence means a lot for you.

You just smile, and probably for Lucci it is enough.

“Now we should go on a dry and covered place. This bad weather... I don’t like rain... and you will get sick” he declares. And with the various bags and your gratitude, you two start walking again, in your new safer place to avoid the annual Aqua Laguna.

#Cliche with Hazel #one piece scenario #Lucci x reader #rob lucci #one piece #one piece event #one piece writing #kissing in the rain #scenario #cp9 #blueriza writings #female reader

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 4 years ago

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If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Eleven

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

October 8th, 1996

“Remy? Remy, I know you’re in there,” Toby said, knocking on Remy’s closet door.

Remy just shoved a fist against his mouth, forcibly holding back the massive sobs that threatened to break loose. “Go away!” he choked out.

“No,” Toby said. “Listen, Rem, what those kids did was scummy. It’s not fair by anyone’s standards. If you told someone, maybe—”

“No one listens to me,” Remy said. “They all say I need to ‘walk it off.’ Well, I’m tired of walking it off! No one asks me if what everyone else does is hurting me, they don’t care! All they care about is that the school’s precious reputation remain unscathed.”

“Remy...” A beat. Toby sighed. “Would you be willing to come out to play a couple video games? No talking, just playing.”

With a grunt, Remy stood in his closet and pushed the door open. “Can we please play on the Genesis?” he asked.

“Yeah, whatever you want on the Genesis is fair game, buddy,” Toby said, wrapping a reassuring arm around Remy’s shoulders as he guided Remy out of the closet.

December 13th, 2000

Remy sat in the waiting room with his right leg bouncing like a jackrabbit. He didn’t like this, but he knew he had to do it if he wanted to stay Emile’s friend. That was the only reason he hadn’t left the office yet. The thought of therapy still made him tense up, but at least he could stay Emile’s friend, and they could continue the process of moving in together.

When the woman came out of the office and said in a soft voice, “Remy?” he stood, even though that was the last thing he wanted to do.

She smiled at him and Remy shifted where he stood. “My name is Kim. Why don’t we talk in my office?”

“I...okay,” Remy said, following her inside.

“Take a seat wherever you like,” she said, gesturing to the couch and chairs scattered around the small space.

Remy sat down in a corner on the couch and Kim sat across from him with a clipboard. “Now, usually I don’t write things down during sessions, but in order to get to know you, and keep some information on you, I’ll need to write a few things down. Nothing serious, just general background information,” Kim assured him. “I keep any notes in future sessions vague enough that even if your information was subpoenaed, they wouldn’t learn much of anything from it.”

“Okay,” Remy said. It didn’t help him relax much, but he supposed that in the future it would be good to know that his deepest, darkest secrets couldn’t be seen by police for any reason.

“Now, basic things. I know your name, date of birth, insurance, and all that, but I want to know a bit more about your background that doesn’t come with all the insurance claims,” Kim said. “Can you tell me about your family?”

Remy stiffened. “Well, they’re kinda why I’m here. My roommate insisted I try this, but it’s because of my family. I don’t really...like talking about them.”

“Well, let’s start with some easy questions then, nothing too deep. Mom and Dad together or separated?”

“Together,” Remy said.

“Any siblings?”

“Two, an older sister and brother. I’m the youngest,” Remy said, relaxing a little. These questions were easy to answer, it wasn’t nearly as bad as he expected it to be.

“Any history of alcohol or drug abuse, in you or your family?”

“Never,” Remy answered.

“Okay,” Kim said, writing a few things down on her clipboard. “Let’s move on.”

“Okay?” Remy didn’t know what to expect, and he tensed up again.

“Have you ever been to a therapist before?” Kim asked.

“Uh, no. I’ve never really thought I needed...one...” Remy cleared his throat, looking away.

“So why are you here, today, if you think you’re fine?” Kim asked.

“My roommate, he...uh...disagrees. About me being fine. He’s a psych major in college, and he says he recognizes symptoms of PTSD in me. He also says I’m suicidal,” Remy said. “Which, I disagree. I’m not about to go and jump off a building. I just wish that I could...not exist sometimes.”

“Your roommate is very perceptive, then. I can see certain signs that may point to PTSD, but of course I’ve known you all of five minutes. Wanting to not exist is a sign of suicidal ideation, it’s typically the first step in the process. Not enough to send you to the hospital, unless you believe you are going to harm or kill yourself between now and the next time we meet?” Kim asked.

Remy mutely shook his head.

“Then we won’t be sending you there,” Kim said, continuing to write. “What do you think the problem you’d like to solve in therapy is? You’ve said your roommate’s view, what about your own?”

“I...I mean, everything’s fine,” Remy said, sitting on his hands. “I’m dropping out of college so I feel less depressed, I have a steady job to help with rent, I don’t have any reason to come here, I don’t think. Life’s...life’s good.”

“Life may be good, but how do you feel? Do you feel good? Do you feel like your life is going in the right direction?” Kim asked.

Remy looked around the room, desperate for an escape, but he couldn’t see one. He didn’t know how to trust this woman who he had just met, but he knew that if Emile were here, he would want Remy to be honest. “I...I don’t know what to feel,” he admitted. “There’s...just...so much...and I can’t handle it all, at least, not on my own, but then Emile said he would stop helping me if I didn’t come here, and...and I need his help. So here I am.”

Kim kept writing and nodding. “I think then, that most of our treatment at the start will be helping you to identify and process your emotions. Beyond that, though, is there a long-term goal you’d like out of therapy?”

The words were out of Remy’s mouth before he could stop them. “Make me feel like a normal human being for once?”

Kim’s writing stilled, and she looked up at him. “What do you mean by that?”

Remy was shaking, and he stammered out, “I-I-I...I guess I-I don’t...I don’t know...”

“Well, what is a ‘normal human being’ to you?” Kim asked.

“Someone who isn’t scared to make friends,” Remy said with a shrug. “Someone who doesn’t wake up in the middle of the night from a noise that they can’t identify. Someone who can smile and actually mean it most of the time. Someone who just...who just acts normal, you know? Someone who’s not scared.”

Kim put her pencil down. “Remy, based on what you just told me, I think you realize on some level that you do have symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress. You recognize that your responses aren’t the norm for most people, and these responses are generally distressing to you. We can work on helping you process these feelings and others, but you’ll need to place some trust in me, and acknowledge that you’re safe here.”

Remy took a shaky breath. “That...that could take a while,” he admitted.

“I’m willing to wait as long as needed,” Kim said. “No matter how long it takes for you to trust me with the bigger things, I am willing to wait and help you tackle smaller problems in the meantime.”

“Okay,” Remy said.

They talked for the rest of the forty-five minutes, mostly about Remy’s mood as of late and how the move was going. Remy didn’t truly relax until the time was up and he left the office to find Emile in the waiting room, reading a magazine. He looked up with a smile. “Hey. Everything go okay?” he asked.

“Y-yeah,” Remy said. “I think so.”

Kim retreated to her office as Emile and Remy walked outside to Emile’s car. Snow was starting to drift down from the sky. Remy looked up and sighed. “I’m still not sure about this whole thing, Emile.”

“But you’re trying, and that’s what counts,” Emile said, sending Remy a smile. “And I’m really relieved that you’re trying.”

“I still don’t know, Emile...it just takes...”

“Time?” Emile asked.

“Trust,” Remy said. “It takes a lot of trust that I don’t have in her. I trust you.”

“I’m not a licensed therapist, not yet,” Emile said. “And even if I were, I wouldn’t be able to have you as a client.”

They got in Emile’s car and Remy attempted to warm his hands as Emile got on the road to their apartment. “But it’s...I mean, she just...I don’t know her, Emile!”

“Remy, that’s the point,” Emile said. “She’s there to hear what you have to say, and to offer you new perspectives on how you perceive the world around you. If she knew you, like, really knew you, personally, she wouldn’t be able to offer you an objective view.”

“I told her I wanted to feel like a normal person,” Remy admitted. “I didn’t want to, it just sorta...happened. And she said she was willing to wait until I was comfortable around her to go into what my parents did, but...I don’t want to. I don’t need to. I don’t need a therapist.”

“No, you don’t need a therapist,” Emile agreed. “You need the tools that will allow you to process the emotions you’ve bottled up all these years that will sometimes overflow and cause you to self-destruct. You know who will teach you those tools? A therapist.”

“Emile,” Remy whined. “I don’t feel safe talking about what happened all those years. No one who I told ever believed me before I told you.”

“Well, then Kim will help you feel safe, and then she can help you with your trauma. This is what therapists do, Rem. Give her a chance to do her job. You might be surprised with the results.”

Remy sighed. “I just...I want to talk to you, Emile. Not a stranger. I want to talk to you.”

“You can still talk to me, Rem,” Emile said. “But you can’t use me as your therapist. That requires an actual therapist, who, I will repeat, doesn’t know you personally. That’s what the whole point of therapy is.”

“Emile! You’re not listening to me!” Remy exclaimed.

“I’m listening to you fine, Remy. I’m just not giving you the answer you want. And no, that answer will not change,” Emile said, pulling into the parking lot of their apartment complex.

Remy huffed and got out of the car, following Emile inside. “Why? Why won’t you help me?”

Emile turned and stared Remy dead in the eye as they walked inside their sparsely furnished apartment. “Do you really want to know the answer to that question, Remy? Do you really want to know why I can’t be your therapist, outside the fact that I’m not licensed?”

Remy nodded.

Emile took a breath. “Okay. You? Telling me that stuff about your past? Hurts me badly. There isn’t a night that goes by after you’ve told me a deep, dark secret that I can sleep easily. You trusting me is great. It’s fantastic. I’m honored, and I would never break that trust. But it still hurts. Because I know you. I want to help you. I want to go back in time and change the past so you never have to deal with what you did. But I can’t. And that kills me. I’ve been learning how to distance myself from clients, for whenever I can start seeing people, but that’s the thing. You’re not a client. You’re my friend. I’m already attached. And I don’t want to distance myself. But it hurts me to hear about all the things you’ve been through. So to keep my sanity intact and hopefully restore some of yours, I’m having you see a therapist. It doesn’t even have to be Kim, if you think she’s a bad fit. You just need to see someone.”

Remy was stunned into silence. “I...I hurt you?” he asked softly.

Emile nodded. “It hurts knowing what you went through, and knowing that every time someone brings something up that triggers a memory, you’re just going through it again. Not badly enough for me to show it, and not badly enough for me to see a therapist myself. At least, not yet. But I know my limits when it comes to someone confiding in me. And Rem, you’ve been toeing those limits since Thanksgiving.”

Remy felt like he might cry. “I didn’t mean to...”

“Ssh, I know, I know,” Emile said hugging Remy close. “I know you didn’t. But that’s why I’m getting you a therapist. Because you need a healthy release. And I need to be there for you in other ways.”

Remy clung to Emile like a liferaft. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried over hurting another person; he had taught himself to not care in highschool when the bullies got meaner, and he had to fight back. Caring enough to cry wasn’t a pleasant feeling in the slightest. But he hoped it was a good sign. After all, if he felt remorse for hurting other people, maybe he would do it less, and he could see if any of Emile’s friends would be willing to get closer to him. Maybe he could expand his support system. Maybe he could get more help.

Maybe he could learn how to ask for help in the first place.

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

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peaceful-negotiator-kenobi · 4 years ago

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Beginners (Obi-Wan x Gender Neutral Reader)

Summary: Obi-Wan helps remind reader, who is insecure about being able to complete the trials to become a Jedi knight, that they’re worthy of becoming a Jedi and that their past failures don’t define them.

Length: ~ 1564 words

Warnings: Lots of fluff, cuteness and motivation (oh, and also cuddles because cuddles are great).

A/N: I stole the title from another really great movie starring Ewan McGregor, but the fic isn’t related to the movie (although I would highly recommend watching Beginners).

“There you are.”

Obi-Wan gives you a wide smile when he finds you sitting on the floor in the hallway outside of your chambers, back pressed up against the wall.

“Oh, hi Obi. I’m so sorry I completely forgot about joining you for meditation today. I’ve been . . . busy.”

You look down at the lightsaber in your hand that you’ve been meticulously taking apart and putting back together for the last hour.

“Busy with what?”

He comes and sits next to you on the floor, his eyes suddenly filled with concern as he realizes just how unlike you it is to miss any commitment--let alone a meditation session with your best friend.

“My trials are in a week, but my master doesn’t think I’m ready.”

You fasten the last piece back onto your lightsaber with a swift motion of your hand.

“I thought I should spend every second preparing so that I can prove my master wrong.”

You murmur, still avoiding eye contact.

Obi-Wan moves over to take your hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“Is that what you’re worried about, not passing the trials? Because if it is, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. If you can’t pass the trials, then I sure as hell won’t be able to.”

You finally look over at Obi-Wan and flash him a smile.

“Thanks Obi. But I don’t think you realize just how bad of a Jedi Knight I’m going to be. I’m so incompetent I’ve often wondered why the Council hasn’t dismissed me from the Temple already.”

Obi-Wan looks back at you with such incredulity at your own self-assessment that he lets out a short laugh.

“Come on, let’s get a cup of tea in you first before you start trying to convince yourself that you’re secretly a Sith.”

Obi-Wan helps you up off of the floor and the two of you enter your chambers where you have an electric tea kettle and an assortment of tea to rival Master Yoda’s collection.

As you wait for the water to boil, you wander over to the balcony overlooking the city of Coruscant. You try not to look dramatic, but with your robes fluttering in the evening breeze and the stance you’ve taken with your arms spread out across the balcony railing, Obi-Wan can’t help but observe just how comically dramatic you look.

“Some tea, my liege?”

He hands you a mug of hot tea as he joins you. You give him a sarcastic side eye for the comment.

“So what’s this about being incompetent? It’s the first I’ve ever heard you associated with that term, and I’ve known you since we were younglings.”

Obi-Wan leans up against the balcony railing and casually sips his tea. You pause, the memory of a recent mission on a remote planet with your master still too painful and embarrassing for you to easily articulate. You value your friendship with Obi-Wan more than anything in the world and worry that you might lose his respect by revealing the truth to him. But, in the end, it is because you value your friendship so much that you decide to tell him the truth.

“I . . . I abandoned my post on my latest mission with my master.”

You search Obi-Wan’s face for any sign of horror or disgust, but you are only met with sympathetic features.

“I fell asleep while I was supposed to be looking out for any sign of trouble and my master was almost injured because of my incompetence. Had someone else not alerted him, he would have surely been shot and possibly killed by a droid.”

You reveal, continuing to search Obi-Wan’s features for some indication that you were, in-fact, as bad of a Jedi as you perceived you were. But he only sipped his tea quietly as he listened, his features never once yielding to your expectations.

“Y/N, you’re often right about a lot of things, but in this instance I must call you out for being so incredibly wrong about yourself. You’re not a bad Jedi because you fell asleep on the job one day--you’re overtired perhaps. You’d be a bad Jedi if you were unwilling to learn from your mistakes, or if you didn’t feel sorry about it. Besides, I’ve seen the way your master works you to the bone and, if I were you, I think I would have fallen asleep at my post countless times by now.”

Obi-Wan moves his free hand over to cover your own and gently massages it with his thumb. In exchange, you flash him a smile. He looks pleased at this change in your demeanor.

“But that doesn’t solve the problem of the pain I feel over disappointing my master. He told me directly after the incident that I wasn’t ready to take the trials--that I had done a very bad thing. I don’t know how to make my master trust me again.”

The sun had slipped below the horizon and darkness was now encroaching on the corner of the balcony where the two of you stood. You don’t wait for Obi-Wan to reply and you indicate that you should both move to the couch inside. Obi-Wan collects your mug with his own and sets them down in the sink before joining you on the plush cushion.

“It’s only natural to feel bad about the things we’ve done wrong, especially when those things affect other people, but we shouldn’t allow that pain to turn into shame. You made a mistake and you learned from it. In the end, it is not your master who decides your fate, but you. Only you are in control of your destiny. Besides, if he won’t allow you to take the trials, there is a way to appeal to the Council.”

He takes your hand again and looks you in the eyes, filled with the light of love and compassion. He hates seeing you so defeated, knowing how strong you really are.

“Thank you.”

You breath out, finally accepting his truth as your own. You give him a warm embrace that causes him to sink back into the sofa. He strokes your hair gently and the two of you sit there holding each other for a while in peaceful silence. He then places a gentle kiss on your forehead and loosens his embrace.

“Remember when we were both younglings and you used to let me crawl into bed with you when I had nightmares and was frightened that whatever I dreamt of would come true?”

You nod, smiling at the memory of a young Obi-Wan sneaking into your room in the middle of the night and poking your face until you woke up.

“Well, I have a feeling now’s an appropriate time to return the favor, if you would like me too.”

“You’re too good to me, Obi.”

You look down at your hands, a blush creeping onto your features.

“Nah, I do believe it has always been the other way around.”

You smile wildly, momentarily forgetting all about your worries.

The two of you get ready for bed and make the surprisingly difficult decision of who gets to spoon who. In the end, Obi-Wan wins out with the simple, but persuasive, argument that, of the two of you, he’s the expert big spoon.

You ask him teasingly what qualifies him as the expert. He only smiles at you suggestively and remarks:

“I get around.”

You throw a pillow at him from across the room.

“Ooo Obi-Wan broke the code.”

He only laughs as he throws the pillow right back at you.

The two of you get into bed and he wraps his arms around you, the warmth of his body heat and his skin pressed against your own luling you towards the brink of sleep.

“I lied.”

Obi-Wan suddenly whispers into your ear, bringing you back to the present moment.

“Hm?”

You murmur sleepily.

“I’m not an expert big spoon. I haven’t even slept in the same bed as someone else since you and I were kids. This is all very new to me.”

You take the arm he has draped over your torso and pull it closer to you.

“Well, you’re doing a very good job at it.”

He gently nuzzles your neck before placing a tentative kiss on it.

“Is this okay?”

He asks, not wanting to overstep any boundaries.

“Yes.”

You reply in a breathy whisper, already a pool of warm sensations at his touch.

He kisses your neck again before pulling away. The chill that fills the space where his body once rested hits you immediately and you almost turn around to see what’s the matter. Suddenly, you feel the pad of a fingertip brush a patch of exposed skin on your back.

It takes a moment to realize that Obi-Wan is tracing words into your skin. He does it slowly so you can feel the pattern of his letters and the sensation deeply relaxes you. He traces out “you can do this!” at first, but as you slowly drift off to sleep he begins tracing out something else so slowly and hesitantly that you don’t know what it says. You’re in the gentle ebb and flow of falling asleep when Obi-Wan returns to his place as big spoon and whispers into your ear in a low, melodic tone:

“I love you and I believe in you.”

#obi-wan X reader #obi-wan x gender neutral reader #fluff #cuddles #star wars imagine #soft obi-wan

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raphianna · 4 years ago

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So, a while ago, I re-watched a few Sanders Sides episodes, and some of them really made me think about the characters themselves and some ships. I, don’t know whether or not to count the Asides videos as a part of the true Sides episodes. I think they’re just cool, but important instances in Thomas’ life involving the Sides not truly canon to the Sides episodes. Sorry if I’m wrong.

I know I’m not the first one to give my opinion like this, how I feel on certain ships, so I’m sorry in advance if I’m basically saying things other people have already...

And I apologise if Prinxiety seems more... talked or thought about than others. This was at first just about Prinxiety, but then I started thinking on some other ships as well :)

Now I’ll be honest, before I ever fully got into the Sander Sides fandom and really knew who the characters were, I did sort of ship Prinxiety and Logicality, because those were the ships I saw the most when I started seeing Sanders Sides in my social feed. But I still was iffy about shipping them as I hardly knew anything about them.

However, when I started watching the videos once I found Thomas’ channel, I began questioning why Roman and Virgil(before I knew their names) were shipped.

Mainly because through the episodes that involved Roman and Virgil, whenever Virgil made an appearance, Roman always made his dislike of Virgil quite known. He never treated him nicely, gave him mean nicknames many times, and in general didn’t seem to want him there.

However, there was a nice moment between him and Virgil as cited in The Dark Side of Disney at 5:45 at the end card:

Roman: Okay, uh, how about Mulan? Virgil: There’s never a wrong time to dress in drag. Roman: Lion King! Virgil: There’s never a wrong time to dress in drag-- Both: --and do the hula! AAAAAAAAAAAAA

And this was BEFORE any character development between the two, so, there, maybe I could see them being frenemies or something like that.

Then there was the Accepting Anxiety videos. In the first video near the end, it was made painfully clear that Roman did not like Virgil as evident at 7:18, where Thomas pointed it out in flashbacks

That was redeemed in the second video, where at 7:11, Roman went through a character arc where he realised how important Virgil was to the group:

Roman: Anxiety, you’re... what pushes Thomas to rehearse and rehearse before performances. You are that nervousness that he feels right before going on stage, but just as he does so... you ease up. And... you let his excitement and passion for performance take over. I think that’s as good a sign as any that you’re willing to work as a team. And that you make us... better.

Which by then, I saw them as going from barely acquaintances to friends throughout videos as Roman tried to be more understanding and nice to Virgil.

In the most recent Asides video, it shows how much they care about each other- Roman sees that Virgil is nervous and tries using alternate, less direct ways to get the man’s attention at first. And when those don’t work, and Roman decides to give up, Virgil rushes out of his comfort zone to help Roman and give Thomas a chance.

But in the first Asides video, Roman says at 10:21:

Roman: Look, this is how I show my love.

After Logan points out he rigged the vote to watch Frozen, then made fun of it. I then saw people in the comments saying that Roman makes fun of Virgil, that means he could love him.

And I’m like... no... that, shouldn’t be how it’s perceived because that’s toxic. You wouldn’t want a friend that insults you around, much less be in a romantic relationship with you.

And it’s revealed in the Selfishness v. Selflessness Redux that Roman has low self confidence and needs someone to be there for him.

Sadly for me, that person isn’t Virgil. He tends to take insults directed at him lying down and even contributes to them. (’Less modest, more self-deprecating ... I talk bad about myself’; 9:47, Fitting In (Hogwarts Houses!))

I do not believe they would work together as a couple, especially with SvS Redux as the current video with so many issues unresolved and a lot of them feeling pretty down at the moment. But after working through their issues that they both have, sure, they could be a couple, but, I believe they could be closer friends more than anything.

Likewise, I don’t think Logicality would work, as both Logan and Patton have issues that need to be worked as well. I know this pairing is the second most popular in the fandom, but, from what I’ve seen, it just wouldn’t work.

Patton is controlling and a little forceful, even though he doesn’t mean to be. I saw this mainly in Learning New Things About Ourselves and Selfishness v. Selflessness. In LNTAO, Patton repeatedly tried to force Logan into doing something he didn’t want to do.

And in Selfishness v Selflessness, Patton was rather forceful and insistent that Thomas was a good person and could do no wrong. And yes, I am aware that in both cases, Patton was able to learn from these things and grow as a person.

But these instances show that Patton is very open and emotional. Whereas Logan is the opposite. He’s cold and can be distant, and only faintly expresses how he feels. The one that really stuck out to me was Logan saying how he wasn’t a joke, also in LNTAO.

With someone like that, you can’t pressure them to express themselves- that will only lead to hurting the person and maybe yourself as well in the process.

To me, this couple, if they got together, their relationship would have major bumps and problems. Logan has a hard time expressing and Patton has a hard time backing down- but if these issues were worked on, they’d be a nice couple I suppose.

I do however believe that Analogical and Royality would work.

For Analogical, this pairing works- it really does.

Not even speaking for Sanders Sides here for a minute, logic tends to calm anxiety down. I myself have used logic in midst of anxiety/panic attacks. It takes a while, but anxiety will listen to logic and ease up after a while.

Throughout the series, Logan and Virgil have never once really been rude to each other.

In fact, they rarely lash out at each other and help each other more than anything.

I’ve seen this mainly in My NEGATIVE Thinking, Fitting In (Hogwarts Houses!), the Moving On videos, and a bit of Dealing With INSTRUSIVE THOUGHTS.

In MNT, Logan in a sense made Virgil feel better about his ‘attempts’ at the debate. In FI(HH!), he agreed with Virgil’s concerns about standing out and seemed the most eager to help him. In the Moving On videos, he and Virgil were unspokenly working together, and Logan was the first to realise Virgil was having a panic attack and tried to help him. In DWIT, Logan helped Virgil understand that he was right and those dark thoughts didn’t have any true meaning to Thomas’ character.

There was also that bit in the Sanders Sides Q&A!, where Virgil said that Logan understanding reality comforted him. :)

I also did like The Sanders Sides 12 Days of Christmas! for Virgil gently explaining to Logan how insults work ^^

Logan is the rock that Virgil needs, and Virgil can give Logan a hand to know when he needs to take his time.

Their relationship would be a bit rocky at first, with both Logan and Virgil unable to really express the correct emotions. That being said, they are the two Sides able to best read the air and understand certain gestures. So when they open up, I think they’d be able to really understand each other :)

For Royality, in terms of how they treat each other, I really think this pairing would work. These two seem to be the Sides that show most emotion and seem to encourage each other a lot. And quite a few times, they wordlessly agree with each other.

I saw these things mainly in Am I ORIGINAL?, Growing Up, and Moving On Part 2.

In AIO, Patton was supportive of all Roman’s ideas and helped him feel better about not having an original idea all the time. In Growing Up, Roman and the others are reminded of Patton’s contributions to the group, and he has the biggest reaction in my opinion(’That is... Wow, I am ashamed of myself!’; 10:58, Growing Up) and both of them helped with the Mind Palace. And in Moving On, Part 2, Roman admitted that he might’ve been hurting Patton by holding onto the past. On a less sad note on the same video, I also liked that after Logan gave Patton his cat hoodie, Roman conjured puppies for him~

Of course, as it goes with all couples, they’d still have problems, as no one is perfect, but for me, they’d have the least problems.

I’m going to mention one more pairing: Remus/Janus. I, don’t know their ship name .-.

Truth be told, I don’t know how they’d totally function, since they haven’t truly interacted in front of us yet, but going by Dealing With INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS, and how they were portrayed there, I think they’d work.

Going by Remus’ song:

‘Speaking of honesty, recently a snake offered me a morsel from the tree of knowledge. He said, ‘You’re wanting to be more honest and be direct dealing with your issues? No longer will you deceive yourself about the ugliness within you.’ Neat!’, 7:54

This shows that Janus does care about Remus and wants him happy, and Remus appreciates the attention. Most likely because Janus is the only one who doesn’t view Remus as disgusting.

I think this ship could work, but have its ups and downs- mainly because picturing these two together, I’m just seeing a chaotic duo lol.

I’m going by all of the Sanders Sides videos in order, and as I said before, with SvS Redux as the current video, a few of these ships just would not work. But as the series progresses and the above issues are tackled, yes, these ships could work. Though I personally ship Analogical, Royality, and Remus/Janus.

I hope that I put an equal amount of thought into each ship after Prinxiety- I really tried to see every aspect of every possible relationship I listed and hope they’re all equally fair. I’m not by any means attacking any ship and I hope I don’t give off that impression- I was just listing my opinions on each based on how the series is currently.

Thanks for reading :)

#sanders sides #my thoughts on pairings #not all of them #prinxiety #logicality #analogical #royality #remus/janus #i'm trying

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turkeyned · 5 years ago

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Dead Poets Society (1989) Analysis:

Written by Tom Schulman and directed by Peter Weir, the 1989 classic 'Dead Poets Society' is a drama based at the fictional Welton academy and follows the transformation of a group of students through the inspiration of a new teacher at the school, Mr. John Keating.

Genre:

At its core, DPS is a drama. Of course, like ninety-nine percent of great films, there is a variety of genre shown throughout. The two that stand out to me the most are 'coming of age', as well as comedy. It’s blatant that the combined themes of conflict, tragedy and "the dangers of conformity", as mentioned by Mr. Keating, create an emotionally dramatic narrative (I will further discuss the themes in more depth in the next section). The drama within the narrative is used to shine light on the message of the film, which I perceive to be that everyone should be able to excel at their own talents and interests, even if doing so goes against 'tradition' and what is expected of someone by their elders and peers.

The 'coming of age' genre is a key part of this film and without it would be a massively different experience for viewers. The whole film revolves around a group of students growing up and transforming, thanks to the help of Mr. Keating, the dead poets society, and the experiences that unfold within the story such as Neil Perry being inspired by Mr. Keating's teaching of the term 'carpe diem', meaning seize the day, and so having his confidence boosted to the point where he is able to 'seize' his passion for acting.

After finishing the film, it is quite clear that the comedy aspect of it is less for creating humour and more for relieving any tension of the conflict at the beginning, such as Neil's conflict with his father and Todd's inner conflict. I believe this is done so that the film is kept light hearted while the students' confidence is building up to a point where they believe in themselves and are happy to venture into their interests, such as reforming the dead poets society. I also believe the comedy is used to create even more emotion for when the narrative becomes incredibly sorrowful towards the end of the film.

Themes Within the Narrative:

The first theme presented to the audience, conformity, begins to appear at the very start of the film. There is a ceremony to be held at the academy for the start of the school semester and the first words spoken by people are very commanding and aren’t met with any defiance whatsoever, indicating the parents and the school are quite strict and the students and faculty are used to conforming to the positions they’ve been led to take by their authoritarian superiors. This is shown when the mother is telling her child to keep their shoulders, the photographer then telling the two boys to put their arms around each other, as well as the teacher reminding the man what he is supposed to do during the ceremony. Furthermore, when the students are told to raise the banners they read TRADITION, HONOR, DISCIPLINE, EXCELLENCE. These words are the ‘four pillars’ of the academy and are essentially what every student at Welton is required to pursue to be seen as a success by the teachers there. They are asked what the four pillars are at the ceremony and when answering they even stand in a conformist like way. Todd’s parents tell him to stand like everyone else when he’s unsure of what to do, making the point even clearer to the audience. This continues throughout the film with Neil’s father forcing his son to drop his extracurricular activities to pursue being a doctor, which in his eyes is a success due to the financial stability that comes with the career. The reasoning for this is to show how dangerous and awful conformity can be for society as Neil Perry is forced to conform by his father and is expected to conform for the rest of his life, but instead refuses and ends up committing suicide to avoid having to become a doctor when he in fact wants to pursue his passion of acting.

The second theme I want to address is life and death. One of the main premises of the film is that you should pursue your aspirations and live life to its full extent. Potentially the most important scene within DPS is when John Keating teaches the meaning of ‘carpe diem’ (meaning seize the day). He shows pictures of former Welton students who have passed on and reminds his current students that someday they will die and before that happens they should try to live their lives to the fullest. This sparks a change in the main characters of the story and they then go on to reform the dead poets society so that they can be expressive in such a strict, conformist academy. They take a risk doing this but the realisation that life is actually short motivates them to do what they actually want to do. While the film mostly supports the idea of ‘carpe diem’, it does show the audience what happens when people take this idea too far or misconstrue it. This shows when Neil is prevented from pursuing acting so he believes that if he can’t live the way he wants to, he may as well be dead and so commits suicide. As well as the ‘carpe diem’ side of this theme, the film also literally shows life and death with Neil committing suicide near the end and showing the consequences and feeling the come from this. Firstly, the school’s headmaster Nolan searches for a scapegoat to blame for Neil’s death so that there won’t be a scandal surrounding the school. This is because the headmaster needs the financial success he is gaining from Welton and values that more than the students educational and emotional needs. Other consequences are the sorrow the is shown through Todd, Dalton and the other DPS members after one of their closest friends has died. They also feel hopeless and so when asked to sign a letter saying that Keating is responsible for Neil’s death, everyone but Dalton (who is expelled for not signing) compromises so that they aren’t expelled from Welton. Although by the very end of the film Todd risks his place at Welton by standing up to Nolan, figuratively and literally, to let Keating know he was forced to sign the letter, seizing the day by doing what he thought was truly right.

Addressing the Audience:

I think there are three target audiences that DPS was created for; these are young adults/teenagers, parents, and teachers. The first, young adults, are influenced by the film to think for themselves and not conform as this can be dangerous for what you yourself aspire to be. This is addressed by the students of Welton being inspired by their teacher Mr. Keating and therefore begin living by ‘carpe diem’. Although leading to Neil Perry’s tragic suicide and Dalton’s expulsion (which are of course examples of when ‘carpe diem’ can lead young people into making bad decisions), this message is very positive in the way that it leads to Todd’s inner conflict being resolved when he makes friends at Welton as well as standing up for Keating when faced with the threat of expulsion. The overall message to this particular audience is to not mindlessly conform because even though following the ‘rules’ is sometimes necessary to sustain life, there is no real livelihood without the enjoyment that comes from personal pursuits, such as poetry.

Secondly there are parents, which the film shows that not everything that you think is best for your child is in fact best. This is conveyed through Neil Perry’s relationship with his father. Throughout the film Neil’s father is incredibly strict and forceful with his son, forbidding him from doing any extracurricular activities at the beginning, then telling him he can’t perform in the play, and after Neil defies him he says that he’s going to put him into military school and that he is going to be doctor whether he wants to or not. Neil’s father is trying to be a good father but he believes that making sure his son is financially stable is the equivalent of the best thing for him when in fact Neil only wants his father to support his passion of acting. This point is emphasised when Neil commits suicide to avoid having the rest of his life planned out for him after being told he’s being put into military school.

Similar to the message to parents, teachers who watch this are told that they should take better care of individual children that they teach. Students spend so much time with teachers as their guardians and so being emotionally neglectful can have such an awful impact on young people. As well as this, people who get into teaching as a career and encourage conformity are so ridiculous; so when seeing this conformist culture at Welton academy and understanding what it does to its students, it should remind current teachers that individuality matters because not everyone learns the same way. So the message to the teachers of the world is to be a bit more like Mr. Keating and his ‘carpe diem’ approach instead of leaning towards the Welton method of teaching, which relies on tradition and conformity.

Structure:

The way the film is constructed is very straightforward and follows the traditional exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, and resolution approach to the narrative, which is organised by plot as opposed to time sequence (although the film does take place over a year, showing the seasons throughout. But this isn’t really too relevant to the way the story is told.), and the plot falls very nicely into this structure.

The exposition shows the setting, Welton academy, and the etiquette of the teachers, students and parents there. It then goes on to show the way teaching is done at Welton and how this differs to the teaching of Mr. Keating. The mannerisms of the main characters are also shown with Neil Perry being a promising student and popular with his friends at the academy, Todd being expected to live up to the standards of his older brother (who also attended Welton) whilst he is unsure of himself and is new to the school, Dalton being laid back and very confident in himself etc.

The rising action has the students reforming the dead poets society (risking getting into trouble with the academy), Neil trying for the main role in the play and getting the part when his father clearly wouldn’t want him to be doing so, Knox beginning a relationship with Chris, who is a girl that he falls in love with, and Todd beginning to gain confidence through Mr. Keating’s lessons as well as the dead poets society meetings.

The climax sees Neil performing the Shakespearean play against his fathers will (something that is only found out at the end of play when he unexpectedly arrives and practically drags Neil to the car), Knox being able to convince Chris to go to the play with him and they hold hands during, and when Neil arrives home his father tells him he is being sent to military school and to forget about pursuing acting which then leads to Neil Perry’s suicide.

The falling action is filled with sorrow and hopelessness as the students mourn the death of Neil Perry, who was their close friend. However, the students aren’t allowed time to grieve for their dead friend for too long as the headmaster discovers the dead poets society from Cameron and forces all of the members to sign saying that Mr. Keating is responsible for the death of Neil with the threat of expulsion for anyone refusing to comply.

The resolution is the very last scene, where Todd shows ‘carpe diem’ by standing up for Mr. Keating even when there’s a risk of expulsion. He lets Mr. Keating know that he was forced to sign the letter saying that he was the reason for Neil’s death and so Todd’s and the other brave students’ consciences are cleared, therefore the story is resolved.

Cinematography:

The technical elements used for the cinematography in DPS are very subtle but extremely meaningful. There are a few scenes in particular that capture my attention as a viewer as well as someone who really appreciates the craft of filmmaking.

The first scene I’d like to talk about is where Keating introduces his students to the term ‘carpe diem’. After Keating leads the students out of the classroom, the scene opens with a high angle shot which shows the setting of the scene, a trophy room. Whilst Keating is communicating with the students there are a few close-ups of their faces and when the camera is on Keating the it’s close-up and is following him as he moves ever so slightly while talking to the boys. I think this signifies the focus that the students and the viewers should have on Keating as he is teaching this important lesson. There are then extreme close-ups on the photographs of the former students as Keating tells his class the meaning of seizing the day as well as more close-ups of the boys faces as they reflect upon life and death.

Another scene that I really think is done amazingly is when Neil commits suicide. It begins with Neil getting ready for bed until there is a shot of the crown he had worn in the play, with Neil’s hand coming into frame to stroke the inside of it. There is then a shot outside of a window as Neil walks up to up, opens the window, and then places the crown on his head again. The camera then slowly zooms into Neil before the shot changes to a close-up of Neil, showing the seriousness in his facial expression, before he hangs his head down and closes his eyes. Along with the eerie audio in the background, this shows quite a sorrowful, melancholy change in Neil which foreshadows what is to come. There are then a few close-ups and a shot of the staircase, showing Neil making his way downstairs to what can be assumed to be his father’s study. There is also a shot of Neil’s father soundly asleep, which I perceive to signify his ignorance when it comes to his son because he literally and figuratively doesn’t know what’s going on in his son’s life and his son’s mind. Neil is then shown taking a wrapped item out of his father’s drawer and placing it on the table, it is quite visible to the audience that this is a firearm as the barrel is slightly out of the wrapping; the camera then pans out, showing Neil staring down at the weapon, clearly contemplating something. The scene then follows Neil’s father after he hears a sound that wakes him. He finds that Neil isn’t in his room and finally gets to his study after searching the house. The camera tracks his movement as he enters the room and then there is wide angle shot of the study with smoke rising from behind the desk. The camera the zooms into Mr. Perry’s face is his facial expression shows the realisation that something is wrong. The frame then becomes Mr. Perry’s point of view as he steps to the side and the pistol and his son’s hand come into view. There is then a slow motion shot of Mr. Perry running towards the camera, showing him rushing to his son’s aid. The eerie audio then cuts out and a shot from the door into the study shows Mr. and Mrs. Perry in agony kneeling behind the desk. Neil isn’t in the frame but it’s quite clear that he has committed suicide by the way his parents are acting, Mr. Perry crying out “my poor son!” and Mrs. Perry in denial repeatedly saying “he’s alright, he’s alright.”

Haven’t really got a conclusion. Pretty darn good 10/10

#dead poets society #film #peter weir #robin williams

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sawickies · 6 years ago

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okay, newish hockey fan who doesn’t really follow isles/leafs/etc.: what do you mean by “the way” Tavares left? would you be willing to explain what was so bad about it?

Man, okay.

So, last season his contract was expiring. Leading up to the expiration of a contract, the team a player is already signed with has a window of opportunity to sign them to an 8 year contract instead of a 7 year. The deadline for that happening was midnight on July 1st.

Throughout the season when asked about the contract, Tavares maintained that he wanted to be an islander for his entire career, that he loved playing on Long Island, that he hadn’t considered playing anywhere else. At the trade deadline, the last chance for the islanders to trade Tavares for other assets, he reportedly asked the GM not to trade him, once again maintaining that he planned to sign with the Islanders & be an islander for the rest of his career.

When the week-long window before the July 1st deadline rolled around, he met with other teams to see what was out there, as was his right & basically is what was expected. He reportedly met with the Bruins, Leafs, and Sharks, in addition to hearing a pitch by the Islanders management—management that had just been revamped completely in the hopes of assuaging any lingering doubts Tavares had about staying. They had gotten Lou Lamoriello as the new GM, who had won 3 cups with the devils, was already inducted into the hall of fame, and had been key in Toronto’s rebuild. They also got Barry Trotz, who brought a crew of seasoned NHL coaches with him, and had just won the cup with Washington. This was a complete 180 from the previous mismanagement the team was under, and was prompted in large part by a movement by the fans calling for the firing of now-former GM Garth Snow.

—>I’ll address the mismanagement under Snow a little later.

So Tavares had his meetings and the week began to tick by. There was complete silence on all sides, for the entire week. Nobody heard anything until July 1st, when it was announced that he’d accepted the Maple Leafs deal. It came out shortly after that he didn’t share his decision with the Islanders until late the night before (I believe the report was 9pm but I don’t remember exactly).

He tweeted the photo of himself in leafs bedsheets with the caption “not every day you get to live a childhood dream” immediately after the announcement.

He maintained that it was a difficult decision for him (the reason for the late notice) and that he truly made the decision at the last minute after wrestling seriously with his choices.

This turned out to be less than true, as his agent subsequently said that he knew as early as the Thursday night before the deadline that he wanted to sign with Toronto. More recently it’s been reported that people close to him knew for a while that he wanted to go to Toronto. As further corroboration to this, his fiancée apparently took a job in Toronto well before the end of the season.

As a side note regarding this, at the point that he told the Isles no it was known that the Bruins were out of the running. The Sharks, however, were strung along until the end along with the Islanders, which is why sharks fans now boo Tavares as well—he basically held them hostage during a key negotiation period where they could have been pursuing other pieces. So, yeah. We’re not the only ones that don’t think he handled it the best.

tl;dr: he repeatedly told management and fans that he wanted to be an islander forever/resign with them long term, then turned around and signed with Toronto after handicapping them by not telling his decision until the last minute, and additionally seems to have lied about wanting to stay on the island in the first place.

I put that tl;dr there, because now I’m going to get into the emotional side of this, as I see it. I get that people aren’t going to be understanding, they’re going to continue to shit on isles fans no matter what I say, but I’ve been trying to find a way to articulate all the things I’ve been feeling as an islanders fan, as a fan whose second favorite team has been the leafs for as long as I’ve been a hockey fan, since I got the notification on July 1st that it was official. I think after last night I finally have the clarity to do that.

We know the management for his time here was terrible. God, do we know it. We know the other pieces on the team were lackluster, that they never got the pieces he deserved to have for his talent. We put up billboards calling for Snow to be fired for fucks sake (and y’all made fun of that, too). We demanded trades we never got. We dealt with a stubborn coach that loved to play grizzly veterans who couldn’t skate worth a damn over young pieces that could have actually helped make a difference. WE. We. We thought we were all in it together, with JT, and that now that things were finally turning around we could reap the rewards together. Was it naive? Absolutely. At the end of the day, sports is a business like anything else, and any perceived loyalty the players have to fans or an organization is there to comfort fans, to make them feel like they’re a part of something, and is not always genuine. This is proof of that.

But isn’t that the way fans of sports are supposed to feel? That you’re in it together with your team? That no matter what happens, you’ll get through it together? Win lose or draw, you’re watching the game anyway because you love the team, you love the players, and they love you because you support them. Isn’t that the way it works?

So why are people so surprised that we’re upset? Can you fans of other teams really look me in the eye and say that if your star player, who swore up and down until the moment he signed with another team that he wanted to be the captain of your team for his entire career, can you really tell me you wouldn’t be upset? Wouldn’t be hurt? Wouldn’t feel betrayed?

I don’t care what people say, we supported him through thick and thin while he was here. He gave his everything to us, and one day he’ll get what’s due to him for that. He deserves it. But the wound is raw. We’re trying to move on, and we are! The islanders are in first place in the metro, a point behind the leafs, a million miles away from where everyone thought we’d be this season. On days when we’re not playing John Tavares’ Maple Leafs, our incredible team is what we’re focused on.

But last night? Last night was catharsis. Last night was 13,000 Islanders fans coming home and coming together and supporting each other through their pain. He should have known what was coming, he’s had enough experience with fans at the barn to know what was coming.

I’d bet that’s the last time it’s that wild. No doubt there’ll still be boos and we don’t need yous in the future, but that much energy? That much hurt? We needed to get it out of our systems, release the pressure that’s been building since July 1st. If you think that makes us assholes, that’s your right, but it’s also our right as fans to get closure on an era of our team that turned out to be noting but empty promises & pain. The Tavares chapter on Long Island is officially over. I’m sure everyone on both sides is relieved.

Finally, if you have any doubt that the animosity we hold toward JT is born from anything other than the passionate love we had for him while he was here, consider this: at the end of the game, a few sections of fans tried to get a chant going that went “thanks for leaving”. Every other chant started that night gained momentum and eventually took over the entire coliseum. That one? That one petered out and faded, barely a dull roar by comparison. In our hearts, in my heart of fucking hearts, I wish more than anything he was here with us to share in this amazing success with the team that drafted him, that loved him so passionately for so long. I’m crying right now, for the first time since July 1st, thinking about how amazing it would be if we had found this success while he was still our captain. Maybe it would have been enough to get him to stay, even if our fans and our love for him wasn’t.

#long post #anon #sorry it took me so long to answer #i actually got to go to the game last night so thats why #leafs #isles #john tavares #k watches the nhl #islanders #maple leafs #the second half is cross posted on twitter with some edits

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luccie-eclair · 6 years ago

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What do you think of this whole Salem v Gods thing?

My original response was going to be “I’m completely neutral. All three were awful and no one is truly innocent. However, some of their actions can be justified, blah blah blah.” But I think there’s something I am missing or misinterpreting, so I’m gonna rewatch this episode and type as I go with direct… er, paraphrased quotes. This will also be long ass a mess, so I’m sorry. Also, don’t read on mobile. It will compress into one whole paragraph.

•"How could the Gods let this happen?“ -Salem. No commentary, just wanted to point it out for future ref if needed.

•"I understand your pain. But you demand of me what I cannot make so. Life and death are a delicate balance” -Light. So… it’s not like he “no” and gave zero reason behind it and no remorse. The first thing he says is “fam, I’m sorry your S/O passed and I understand that you’re grieving”. He gave his reasoning and I think he has a point. We live. We die. Whether that death is fair or just or neither. It’s a fact of life.

•This is probably not the first time he’s had to have this conversation. He’s probably given a similar answer to many people. Now think about this: he brings Ozma back. Oh well that’s so easy and would solve everything. No, it wouldn’t. If he brings back Ozma, and news gets out that all you have to do is ask, do you know how many angry people who were told “no” will come back and demand loved ones back? I hate to be that person, but if Light bends the rules for one, he’d have to bend the rules for everyone.

•"To disrupt the cycle-“ and then Salem cuts him off by saying it’s not fair. …see the point above.

•"Let him rest”- Light. That response was kind of cold especially in its delivery. She’s grieving and doesn’t know how to handle this (and the way she chooses to is… not good). He could stand to have empathy despite the fact that she completely snapped at him.

•"No"-Salem. Hoe, don’t do it.

•"All while careful to make no mention of his elder"-Jinn then the whole fight thing. I said it once already, but I tried this tactic when I was a child. My parents argued over it and at the end of it grounded me. Let me explain why. 1) My mother/father had already told me no and gave me a REASON for saying no. 2) I went behind their back to Parent #2 to ask a question I already got an answer to and purposefully omitted prior information. Omission of the truth when the other party has a right to know is still lying. 3) I got caught doing what I wasn’t supposed to be doing to begin with. My parents, in no uncertain terms said, “that is not how you get what you want.” But Salem is mourning and doesn’t understand how to cope with death. Yes. I completely agree with you. That’s why this should be a learning experience. She, gradually, learns how to cope and move on (which is easier said than done, of course). So… I guess you can kind of justify this. I was harsh about this is in an earlier post, but my opinion has slightly changed. This still isn’t any less manipulative, BUT factoring in the sheltered upbringing and inexperience with grief (which I didn’t previously) makes the situation a little different.

•"What is this? Where am I?“ -Oz. I think this should’ve been a sign not to bring him back again. He was resting perfectly fine. Hanging out with the other legends and every dog that passed at the pearly gates. Yall bring him back into drama, make him disappear, rinse, and repeat. All three of them are causing a resting man pain. Yes, all three. I said it.

•"When you came to me, I pitied you. But you were selfish/arrogant” -Light. I’m on the fence with this. I don’t think that she intended to be selfish and arrogant, but it didn’t translate that way. Perception and interpretation is everything especially if you’re on one end while someone else is on the other. Because of her actions (getting angry, refusing to accept answers, going behind his back, manipulating the situation), Light and now Dark perceive Salem to be exactly as Light described: selfish and arrogant. I can’t say that my reaction would be very different had I been in their position. Whereas Salem, with no experience with grief and losing the one and only person she held dear, is trying to regain what she lost. I wouldn’t call that selfish or arrogant, but her means of doing so say otherwise and that’s where we have issues.

•I know that someone’s going to say that she had no knowledge that what she did wasn’t really okay, but… I disagree. She is cunning. If Salem didn’t think that going to Dark to ask the same thing again was wrong, she would not have “carefully made no mention of his elder”. She knew that if she mentioned what happened with Light, Dark would also say no if only because she was never true worshiper of Darkness to begin with.

•"You are immortal. […]. You can never be with your beloved. […]. You must learn the importance of life and death. Only then may you rest" -Light and Dark. I understand teaching her that there's consequences to actions, but immortality? Really? I think that was overdoing it. Granted! They did give her a way out: understand the Circle of Life like Mufasa, and you can move on.

•But who is actually going to understand something so philosophical like that? She’s not Socrates. And to be fair to Salem, I think that she… somewhat accomplished that. She tried to kill herself many times to end the cycle and be with Oz. Does that not demonstrate her “understanding the importance of life and death” or are there hidden instructions in the .5 sized, Wingdings, fine print that is nowhere on the screen?

•"[Salem committing suicide] grew to be nothing more than acts of defiance against the gods"-Jinn. Ohhh, I guess I can see that as not understanding the lesson or whatever. But when she did it the first few times, it was with the intention of being with Oz. Thus we are back at the previous point. Why does that not count?

•"They were fallible (?). If she could turn them against one another, she could easily turn humans against the gods" -Jinn. Okay, this is about the point where I stop holding out hope for Salem. At this point, if it backfires, it’s on her. She lacks an excuse unless I can find one. Also, don’t throw swords at Ruby. That’s rude.

•"[Salem said that] she stole immortality from the gods. […] Claim the powers of the gods for themselves and perfect humanity" -Jinn. Refer to the point above. Before, I could argue that she was grieving and perception and all that. I can’t justify this.

•Unrelated, but the humans are low key dumb and that’s exactly why they all die. One, lone person stole immortality from not one, but two omniscient gods? Really? You fell for that?

•[Humans using gifts that the GODS gave them against them]. Refer to the above. This is exactly why ya’ll die. You really thought that these tiny little bursts of power were gonna… Okay, Susan.

•[Dark goes genocide mode]. This was a huge overreaction. And Light is just as bad. He just sat there and did nothing. Like I said, a passive bystander is just as bad as the perpetrator. Dark could’ve just killed those in front of him. I suspect that he was under the impression that Salem would just get another army of people and try again, but… I don’t think Salem is that dumb. If he’d killed only the people there, she would see that clearly if she tried again, she’d get the same result. So we’re back at this point, why did everyone have to die? Like, children died, dude.

•"I’ll tell the rest of the world [about the murders] and build a new army" -Salem. Dammit. I just got done saying that you wouldn’t have been that dumb, and here are proving me wrong. Doesn’t excuse genocide, but you know, method to madness I guess.

•[Dark destroys the moon?] Don’t really get why he did that. You just screwed up the tides, dude.

•"…a tragedy has befallen your home at the hands of my brother" -Light. No. At the hands of YOU and your brother. Refer to my point about passive bystanders. You’re just as guilty.

•"Return to your desolate world" -Light. I- no? Why would he want that?

•"Get world peace or die, dummy" -Light. What is it with this man giving impossible tasks with zero direction?

•But he gave Oz a choice. He could’ve said no. This series is all about the choices people make and the consequences and rewards for such. Nothing comes without some result.

•Why did Light make it so that Oz would jump in and take over some unsuspecting person’s life and get them involved in their soap opera?

•"You can’t" -Jinn. I- why???? Why would you even give him this task knowing that he wouldn’t be able to- Okay, Susan.

The rest of this just Salem and Oz: the Slice of Life Sitcom. So… my answer is unchanged? I am still very neutral and think all three are responsible and made less than stellar decisions, but not without some justification. I definitely understand the arguments others have made, but I think it really boils down to choice. They each made decisions that resulted in the current situation and that’s on them. I think that they share blame equally. I think this time, I do empathize with Salem a little more (to a certain point) so I am tempted to argue more for her, but at some point, I just couldn’t find any solid reason to do so.

#salem v gods #rwby thoughts #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 6 #rwby6 #rwby6 spoilers #rwby volume 6 spoilers #rwby vol6 spoilers #rwby vol6 #rwby volume six #rwby volume six spoilers

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journeysintowebcomics · 6 years ago

Text

Worm Liveblog #89

UPDATE 89: Hostile Takeover

Last time the Slaughterhouse Nine announced they’d leave the city. They got Hookwolf as their new member, they threw Cherish to the bottom of the sea, and it’s still unknown who is alive and who isn’t. What’s certain is that they did lose a few of their members, like Burnscar. That’s a win, as far as I’m concerned. The miasma problem has been solved, so...now what? Let’s see.

Ah, the last chapter of the arc was the one from last update. Now it’s an interlude. Okay, who is our point of view for this interlude?

It’s Sierra. Thank goodness, she survived the latest chapter. Honestly, I’m kind of invested in the wellbeing of Skitter’s henchmen. I think they’d be a good meter to measure how well things are going with Skitter’s reputation. If they start feeling it’s not worth it to work with her, or get thoughts of rebellion, then Skitter will be in trouble. They’re going to be the first ones to get sour when the situation gets ugly over here.

Currently, Sierra and some guy named Jay are using an old door as a makeshift stretcher to carry a corpse. Sierra’s hands hurt, there are blisters, and a good time is being had by none. Judging by the narration, this is a victim of Mannequin, not of Burnscar. The gas that poisoned them, yeah...how long ago was that? A couple days? It sure feels like it was an eternity ago that I read that. I have a very hard time keeping track of the chronology of Worm, in terms of how many days pass and that kind of stuff.

He didn’t have a wallet on him, so he was a John Doe for now.

When they’d started working yesterday, that sort of thinking had made her want to cry. Now she felt numb. She could have thought about something else, but a part of her wanted to pay John Doe his due respect. If nothing else, he deserved to be looked at as a human being rather than another body.

Aw, that’s sweet. I like people keeping their humanity in the face of numbness. Humanity is good at its core, that’s what I think. That’s why I appreciate when decency shines through misery. It’s too bad this random man isn’t likely to be looked at as a human being when there’s not even a name to associate. What’s going to happen to the body? Most likely it’ll be cremated by the municipality and stashed away with other unidentified people. Isn’t that what’s usually done? Can’t say I’m well informed about this matter.

This warehouse has two rows of corpse arranged there, people without a name. Sierra takes a moment to look at the man she carried, and wonders if she should say a few words. What to say, though? She knows nothing, so all she says is ‘sorry’ and tells Jay she doesn’t feel in condition to carry any more bodies, leaving Jay to go do it. He, having been in the ABB, doesn’t care. Speaking of former ABB members! Another two here. People used to this roughness, pretty much. Good for Skitter’s forces, not so good when it’s about being well-adjusted.

You know, since a storm drain is the entrance to Skitter’s hideout and there’s some water here, they’re really lucky the miasma didn’t affect the Docks area so much. Who knows how disastrous things would have been around here if they had been under the effect of the agnosia misma.

Inside the hideout, Charlotte is being a babysitter for twenty children, many of them from the same family. This family was hit pretty hard, and now they’re here. Needless to say, hm...

“But they’re switching between playing and being pretty normal kids to crying because their parents are… you know.”

...yeah, that. At least they’re playing sometimes. That’s a good sign, I think. Still, poor kids, having lost their parents...with some luck they’ll be okay.

Sounds to me like nobody here knows what to do, both with the amount of newly-orphaned children in this area, and the unidentified bodies that are, well, not getting any fresher, if you allow me to say that so crassly. Some were thinking about burning them all in a mass grave, but I’m pretty sure that’s illegal, very illegal. I think the only option here is leave everything to the city. They’ll know what to do, better than anyone in this area. The problem is that the authorities in Brockton Bay isn’t really in condition to give much help, but still, better to tell them.

Apparently Skitter stockpiled a lot of food, so much Charlotte has been organizing them in expiration order date, and they start planning dinner. There’ll be soup – good choice! Soup is always nutritious and you can put almost anything in it – and rice – another excellent choice, rice always fills you up. These gals will be okay.

This scenario wasn’t what she’d expected, on any level. Even as Skitter had explained the job duties as being helping out, rebuilding, organizing, Sierra had maintained doubts. She’d been waiting for that one job where Skitter tested her limits, asked her to do something a little dangerous, something morally ambiguous. It would be subtle, or it would have consequences she wasn’t immediately aware of, but it would set her on the road to something darker.

Ah, she still doesn’t believe Skitter isn’t evil. She still thinks there’ll be a task that’ll make her a criminal. She’s helping keep a certain semblance of order, making herself a pillar of the community, and she still keeps waiting for her to have a role that’ll do the opposite. I doubt she’ll ever get a task that’ll lead to that. I wonder how long it’ll be before she realizes that.

As expected of her, she tries to call Bryce. True, he’s in Tattletale’s forces! He may have been affected by the miasma because Tattletale’s area isn’t near the Docks, is it? I think. I’m not sure. Good thing that’s a thing of the past now. While they talk, Sierra shows one of the kids how to cut the food properly, and asks Bryce how his hands is going – not much of a hand now, given how he lost all four fingers, only his thumb remains. It’s having some problems.

“No. It hurts like my fingers are still there and they’re being crushed.”

What’s that called? Phantom pain? If I remember correctly, it tends to happen with missing limbs and the such, I suppose it’s because the brain isn’t used to the absence of a body part, so it struggles to understand its absence or something.

Looks like Tattletale’s forces are on the defensive. They’re keeping track of a few of Hookwolf’s guys, and when they made a move to attack, the group Bryce was in retreated. He suspects it’s because he was with them, and that frustrates him.

“They’ve been teaching me how to fight with a knife, how to throw one, how to use a gun-”

Golly! All that with one usable hand! That’s skillful. Sierra doesn’t appreciate the hardship Bryce is overcoming, showing indignation at the thought her brother is learning such dangerous things. Well, it was to be expected he would get involved in that kind of thing, it comes with the territory of being a henchman for someone who isn’t Skitter. At least he’s in good hands, the Jaw guy who is leading the group seems to be intelligent enough not to pick fights they can’t win.

Seems like telling him to listen to Tattletale and not get in much trouble annoys Bryce, because he gives what I perceive as a rather sarcastic response and then hangs up.

He’s supposed to be getting better, more disciplined. Had she made the wrong call? If Bryce was getting training with guns and knives, and still failing to shape up, this thing with him being recruited by Tattletale could be disastrous in the long run.

Hm...I have to wonder how long it has been since Sierra was recruited into Skitter’s forces and Bryce got taken to Tattletale’s. A month? A couple weeks? Here I am, once again having trouble discerning time in this story. Come on, Nick, snap out of it. Still, something like this isn’t quick. It’s going to take a while before results are seen, and they’re unlikely to be seen through a phone call.

When she calls again, she talks to Jaw, asking him how Bryce is doing. It seems he’s getting weapons training from someone he thinks is attractive, and self-defense may be a good way for him to regain confidence. I can see the logic, really. I think there’s some merit to that idea, as long as the discipline and willpower to not go seek trouble is enforced too. Sierra still doesn’t like Bryce learning any of that, so she requests that to stop. Bryce isn’t going to like that at all.

“I will also decide on a punishment for the boy for being rude and hanging up on his sister. I think we would all like him to learn some respect for his betters.”

Hah! I hope he does learn that, because there’s breeding ground for resentment here. He’s going to receive some character-building punishment, and everyone reading this knows that’s lingo for Bryce getting some exhausting task or physical routine. Better get discipline soon or you’re going to have to undergo a lot of character-building stuff, kid.

Looks like word about what Tattletale and Skitter are doing isn’t getting around, because Jaw doesn’t know what’s happening other than downtown being off-limits. Hm...I’d have thought the noise and speculation about the explosions would have gotten around by now. Maybe I was wrong when I assumed this was happening after the events of the Prey arc. It’s starting to sound like this is before that.

Soup time! Sierra wants the kids to help, Charlotte wants to give them a break on account of them losing their family. In my opinion, giving them something to do is a good idea. It’ll keep them busy and help distract them. Work is a good distraction when you get into it, that I know. I think it’ll do them some good. Relenting, Charlotte helps Sierra organize, giving some of the older kids the duty to watch over a few of the younger ones, and distributes the soup so they carry them to the sleeping areas.

The kids take the soup as they can and get out of the front door, it all seems to be going well. The narration recognizes what I said about keeping busy, the kids seem to have realized that and they try their best. They’re still getting their stuff done when Jay and the other ex-ABB members get into the place. Trouble incoming!

“Skitter’s, sure. If she’s still alive. But not your space. Don’t see why you can have this stuff and we can’t.”

Sounds like hostile takeover to me. This could end in two ways, I think: one is that Sierra manages to put her foot down and asserts herself as Skitter’s main underling. It’s possible, I think she’d have the guts to do that. The other possibility is that Skitter arrives and deals with this problem, which is less likely because I think this is in the past instead of in the present. Go, Sierra, show what you’re made of!

Yup, this is a hostile takeover. These three are going to throw out Sierra, Charlotte and everyone else and take the entire place for themselves.

To try to deter them, Sierra makes the rhetorical question of wondering who brought all the supplies and food Skitter has stashed in here, and says Skitter’s supplier won’t be happy if they find out someone has been messing around in one of their clients’ properties. The argument doesn’t convince the invaders, who call her bluff and even say those suppliers are unlikely to come here that night. Welp. Good try, Sierra.

Charlotte isn’t resisting, she tells Sierra they should leave and that none of this is worth being in danger. True, that’s true. Still, it’s hard to know what was a bad decision, if not showing fear like Sierra or showing fear like Charlotte did. One of the invaders grabs Charlotte, Sierra immediately tells them to let them go, knowing these three would have to deal with the consequences once/if Skitter returned. Not a bad bet altogether, I for one am sure Skitter would take action immediately, and given how worried she gets about her people, she’d return as soon as possible.

“Don’t think so. I hate arrogant bitches. Going to spoil my mood if I don’t do anything about it. Your choice. I can shoot you through your palm, shoot you in a knee, or I can shoot one of the kids.”

Oh now that’s dirty.

To show she’s serious, the female invader grabs one of the kids and shoves the gun into his mouth while Sierra hesitates, considering her options. Getting shot in the hand seems more favorable than getting shot in the knee, and the thought of letting the kid take the bullet doesn’t ever cross her mind, which I appreciate. I think she’s making a good choice, getting your hand injured like that will hurt a lot, but with the right care the hand can recover well and gain its functions back. Knees and legs are trickier.

“Choose!”

“My hand.”

Decision made. I hope someone can take care of that because that’s going to be a bad injury, to say the least.

Before Sierra can get her hand shot, here comes the solution to the current predicament.

A figure stood behind Yan. Her costume was barely recognizable – She wore a short cape of tattered black cloth over her body armor, a skintight black suit beneath that, and there were folds of black cloth draped around her legs like a dress or a robe. The entire fabric seemed to ripple and move. It took Sierra a second to realize it was crawling with a carpet of insects.

The disconcerting part was the girl’s face, or lack thereof. Her expression was masked behind a shifting mass of bugs that moved in and out of her hairline. Sierra couldn’t even tell where the bugs ended and the scalp began, as the small black bodies crawled into and onto the black curls. There was a hint of something like glass where Skitter’s eyes were, but the bugs ventured far enough over her eyelids and around the frames that nothing was visible in the way of goggles, glasses or skin.

Skitter has arrived. Does that mean this really is after the Prey arc? It does seem like that now. Sometimes I think a story like Worm would greatly benefit from timestamps at the beginning of the chapter/interlude. Make them ????? when you don’t want the reader to know.

Somehow, the invaders aren’t deterred by the arrival of the supervillain who owns this place, that leads Skitter to call forth her beetle. It’s walking on its back limbs somehow. Those are some strong limbs; the rest of the beetle can’t be light at all. Also, the forelimbs have a razor edge. Didn’t know beetles had that. I’m finding kind of hard to believe Panacea was trying to make an insect Skitter couldn’t use as a weapon for long yet gave it razor edges. Way to go, Panacea.

What follows is a delightful description of the effects of brown recluse venom on the muscles, and by delightful I mean it’s accurate and therefore it’s giving me some ugly mental images. Curse my impulse of imagining things while I’m reading! The invaders say she’s bluffing, and I...well...this is the girl who threw a dozen thousand poisonous spiders on Lung and sent him to the hospital. I don’t think she’d use brown recluse spiders on three random gang members, but maybe she would bite them with something poisonous enough to give them a good scare.

Why does Mr. Wildbow have to be so good at describing nasty stuff?

Maybe all that was to keep them distracted while the spiders got on them, because she finishes with ‘they’re already on you. All three of you’, making them get distracted for a moment, enough for the beetle to tackle one of them and the others to get afraid.

Jay drew his knife, but dropped it in the same motion. His other hand clutched his forearm as his eyes went wide.

“That’s one bite, Shaggy,” Skitter said. “Giving you two seconds to kick the knife under the stove before I give you another. One-”

Jay kicked the knife across the kitchen floor. It slid out of sight.

Looks like Skitter’s tactics are effective, nice. Charlotte, free in no time, hurries to get behind Skitter, sobbing for a moment. This must be bringing up some pretty bad memories of her time as the Merchants’ prisoner there in that party they had. Yikes.

“Where were you?” Sierra returned the question with one of her own.

“Dealing with the Nine. They’re not a concern anymore, at least for now.”

Um, if I may disagree, they’re still a lot to be concerned about. Hello, end of the world? Will Jack really stick around and wait see what happens? I still think that, after everything that happened in the city and now that they presumably planted some seeds of discord in Panacea, they’d take their losses and leave as soon as possible, but apparently Skitter isn’t concerned about them. Am I missing something?

Hearing the Slaughterhouse Nine aren’t as big of a threat anymore, Sierra asks for details, because it’s so weird to think the big, worldwide threat is now over and dealt with.

“They’re dealt with. Burnscar’s dead. Crawler’s dead. Mannequin’s probably dead. Cherish and Shatterbird wish they were dead. Found Siberian’s weak point, and it’ll be international news soon, if it isn’t already. She, Jack and Bonesaw ran. Tried to pursue, couldn’t track them. It’ll be a while before they bounce back.”

Crawler is confirmed dead! That’s a big loss for them, excellent! Mannequin is a maybe, but after the events of the last few arcs, he doesn’t seem as unsurmountable of a threat as he was before. He can be defeated, that’s for sure. Shatterbird must still be under Regent’s control, Cherish is sleeping with the fishes...I see no mention of Hookwolf. I guess Skitter sees no reason to spread that tidbit of information around.

To anyone in this world it’d be amazing to hear they took on the Slaughterhouse Nine and won, and Skitter soon clarifies they didn’t win. Guess it’s because Jack did get away and that was what mattered here. Anyway, about these two-bit invaders...they’re subdued and won’t be any threat now. Skitter, Charlotte and Sierra can just talk as if those three ungrateful pricks aren’t currently being held against the floor.

“You’ve been working hard. Thank you. I didn’t expect to have anything to come back to.”

Hmmmmm...I think she means that because of the miasma and the effects agnosia could have in an already fragile society like the Docks, but without that context to Sierra that may be a bit hurtful, like she isn’t enough to keep things going. She isn’t enough, that’s for sure, but hearing it from your boss would sting, wouldn’t it?

Waaaait a second, nobody here has said a thing about the weird unnatural red miasma that covered so much of the city! It was as tall as buildings! Pretty hard not to notice, if you ask me! Kind of amazing there wasn’t any panic, nor anyone heard a word about the crimson mist that enveloped Brockton Bay! Rumors and information sure get around much slower than I thought!

Okay, back to the invaders here. Charlotte is asked to take the children to another room, chance she takes to run away. Sierra, Skitter and the three invaders are left here, so Skitter starts with what she intends to do.

Yan raised her voice, “You left! You abandoned us!”

They were as insecure as the rest of us, Sierra thought. Not that it excuses their behavior.

As if! More like they wanted to take over what someone else had simply because they saw someone else had stuff they didn’t. That’s not really being insecure!

In what’s obviously meant to be a callback to their own actions, Skitter ask them to choose between a hand or a knee. What would they rather lose to the toxins of a brown recluse? Does it really matter? If it really is a brown recluse, it’s going to wreak havoc further than whatever they choose. One of them is so spooked by the threats he tries to lunge for a knife, chance Sierra uses to drive her knee into his stomach. Nice! I was hoping for something like that. Sierra got to do something!

Now that the three have been bitten by spiders, Skitter tells them they’re not welcome in her territory anymore and that they should get out of Brockton Bay. They’re not welcome anywhere, her allies control every part of the town and she’ll spread the word so they’re not safe anywhere. Good riddance to those three, I say. I really hate ungrateful people.

Once those three are gone, Skitter apologizes for not being able to both check the territory and fight the Slaughterhouse Nine at the same time. I mean, pretty hard to do that! Anyone would say the Slaughterhouse Nine would take all their attention because they’re an immediate threat. Then Skitter says she had thought this place was a lost cause. That...really must sting Sierra, goodness. The problems like the corpses and Hookwolf’s troops occupying territories are informed, Skitter will deal with that after some rest.

“Your voice. You’re still doing the thing where your bugs talk with you.”

“Sorry,” Skitter said, the swarm suddenly quiet. “I don’t even think about it anymore.”

Hah! When Skitter gets a useful new tricks she sure gets into using it whenever she can, eh? The decoys, and now the buzzing voice trick. It’s pretty good for intimidation, but for their allies it must be kind of weird to talk to someone who speaks through buzzing insects.

“Your gang’s a lot smaller. A lot of people died.”

Skitter put her elbows on her knees, removed her glasses and buried her face in her hands.

Another heap of deaths for Skitter to blame herself for. At least it doesn’t seem like Skitter is being blamed for the deaths? I think it’s possible she may be blamed, but she won’t be told any of that to her face. If that happens, then it’ll be the kind of rumor that’s impossible to pinpoint who said it yet everyone knows it. She’ll know about people’s opinions sooner or later.

Sierra asks if those three are going to die, Skitter confirms they won’t and that the bites weren’t from a brown recluse spider. She’s counting on her intimidation tactics to keep them away, and I think they’ll work, because they’re not welcome in this territory anymore. I doubt Skitter will bother tell anyone about them because...let’s face it, they’re largely unimportant and there are a hundred more important threats to be worried about...but yeah, I think this is the last anyone in here will see of them.

Being told they won’t die doesn’t make Skitter seem any friendlier or more approachable than before, in Sierra’s opinion.

They say we fear the unknown, Sierra thought to herself. So why does she freak me out more as I get to know her?

It’s a pretty natural reaction to Skitter’s actions, I’d say. Anyone would be freaked out.

The Slaughterhouse Nine is out, Hookwolf’s group are small beans...Skitter’s new worry is novel and tough. Take a look, this seems promising!

Sierra thought of how she would excuse herself, go tend to the soup and check on Charlotte, but Skitter spoke first. “But no. Not an ally. At least half of them might get involved, and that could get pretty ugly, fast, but I’m thinking the biggest issue right now is the man at the top.”

Sounds to me it’s time to defy Coil and try to rescue Dinah! And she expects...maybe she expects the Travelers to fight the Undersiders? The Travelers are relying on Coil’s help, after all. It’s possible they’ll fight.

Anyway, that may be the point of the next arcs. I hope they are! It’s bound to be fun. That’s the end of the interlude, so I’ll stop now.

Next time: next update

#worm #worm liveblog #webserial #webserial liveblog #liveblog

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robininthelabyrinth · 7 years ago

Text

Fic: Être Libre (Ao3 Link)

Fandom: DC's Legends of Tomorrow, the Flash Pairing: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart For Coldwave Week: Abduction/Kidnapping - @coldwaveevents

Summary: It was supposed to be a standard contract.

The Fae kidnaps the human, the human is given everything he wants and nothing he needs, and the Fae is enriched.

But nooooooooo, nothing in Len's life can be simple.

(Mick Rory is such a tricky human!)

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It was supposed to be a standard contract.

Supposed to be, being, Len supposes, the key word. He's never been good at being what he's supposed to be.

Neither, it seems, is the subject of this contract.

"How hard can it be," he says, mimicking his sister's higher pitched tone to an exaggerated falsetto. "It's just a basic contract! Everyone does contracts. People have been doing it for literally thousands of years. The time will pass in barely a blink of an eye. You're not nervous, are you? Not you, a strong, attractive, big, tall -"

There's a muffled snort.

Quiet, but enough.

"Found you!" Len exclaims, leaping forward to yank aside a bush to glare at his target.

"Yeah, sure," Mick says from where he's lying on his back in the dirt. Utterly shameless, like he wasn't just hiding from Len a few seconds prior. "Tell me, did she really say 'tall'? That seems like an unnecessary bit of flattery."

"Compared to humans, I am tall," Len points out. He's over six feet tall, after all.

"True," Mick agrees. "But I wasn't comparing you to humans, now was I?"

Len scowls at him. It's not his fault that his species tends more towards seven or eight feet in height.

Even Lisa is a perfectly normal seven and a half feet of gorgeous woman.

(It's not Len's fault that he gave her all his food growing up, stunting his growth in the process...)

"Besides, I'm taller than you," Mick says. "And I am human."

"I didn't need the reminder," Len tells him, giving up and slouching down into a seat next to Mick. There's clearly no reasoning with the guy. "Why'd you run away this time? You know your half of the contract is to stay put."

"And as you're so quick to remind me, humans are creatures of chaos capable of breaking contracts," Mick says dryly. "Unlike you lot, all rules and order above all else. You don't eat, sleep, or have fun without rules. You even kidnapped me according to the rules!"

"I'm a creature of order, what do you want me to do? Not be what I am?"

"You even left in a loophole where I could get free of our contract if I could escape," Mick continues, looking aggravated. "And you told me about it."

"Of course I did! You're my counterpart, you have the right to be informed!" Len protests, even though he knows that humans are not afforded any rights under the Law. According to the Law, humans are the subject of contracts, not counterparties, not real counterparties.

Len's never liked that.

A contract between two parties ought to be between counterparties, fair and equal, whatever the Law currently says.

"And anyway, that doesn't change the fact that you tried to run again," Len adds. "In the middle of a party, too."

He didn't actually object to leaving the party early, he hates these sorts of parties - he by and large hates other people, actually - but there's having a good excuse to miss the party and then there's having to track Mick down again - and again - and again –

Mick huffs. "Maybe I wanted some time to myself, ever think about that?"

"But you call for me to come back to the demesne any time I go away," Len says, utterly at a loss. "I don't know what you want."

Mick looks at Len pityingly. "Buddy," he says dryly. "You're not supposed to care about what I want."

Len groans and flops back on the earth next to Mick.

"You're really bad at this whole abduction business," Mick observes. "Like, really bad. I thought kidnapping humans is what you Othersiders do for fun."

"Status," Len corrects Mick. "We do it for status. Having humans around helps us think more clearly."

The problem with being a creature made from order is that you fall far too easily into stale ruts, repeating the same thing over and over again, and you can't get yourself out. Not without a spark of chaos to help inspire you to, anyway.

That's why they took humans. As faelings they offered gifts in trade, as jinn they pretended servitude, as dragons they kidnapped by force - but the end goal was always the same, to use the human to further their own goals.

Len never liked it.

Oh, he likes rules as much as the next Sider, as humans called them: he liked making them, he liked twisting them, he adored the challenge of maneuvering around them.

But he hated what they did to humans, draining them of inspiration and will and spark until they were greyed-out shells that were so empty they actually thought they'd made it out intact or even ahead of the game.

Johnny with a violin of gold won and his ability to compose lost.

Tam Lin with his bride to be, going mad over his inability to write another poem.

Orpheus, who didn't understand why his music no longer had that extra oomph that won him all of his acclaim.

Len hated it.

It was addictive, for one thing; cruelty summoned cruelty, but each human that was taken would provide less and less of a high, and in time the Sider doing the taking would deteriorate into mess good only to be put down. But that wasn't really the reason - that sort of thing wouldn't happen for centuries, if you were even slightly careful.

No, Len'd rather his inspiration come from himself, however tired it made him; that way his victory was his own, rather than stolen from the soul of a broken toy.

But he was in a tricky situation in the centuries-long life-or-death match he was playing against his Father, and he needed to demonstrate to the East Tower Clade that he had the ability to enthrall a human into a contract, not to mention a lack of disdain for those Siders that did use it.

A disdain that Len did, in fact, feel.

But Lisa convinced him that he needed their alliance to pull off his next maneuver, one that would bring him closer to the victory she longed for as much as he, and he'd begrudgingly agreed.

He'd taken the easiest route: he came across a child at a vulnerable moment, their family dead in an inferno they themselves had unintentionally started, and he offered them a contract too good to be true - safety, pleasures, the whole rot.

Mick accepted, of course, because Len is good at what he does. Even this, when he puts his mind to it.

That should've been the end of it: children made for fantastic inspiration, but they burned out fast, and Len would have been free of his obligation within a few short years –

If he'd managed to stick to it, anyway.

He'd had Mick a week, a week of giving him all the food, games, and other innocent joys the boy had ever wanted, and then at the end of the week it was time to take Len's due portion from Mick's soul and Len had balked like the coward he is.

He couldn't.

Not a child.

(Not after what his Father did to him, and to Lisa, when they themselves were only children, and never mind that this was a human child, a human, someone Len shouldn't even care about.)

He couldn't do it.

He'd amended the terms of their contract to give Mick an out, a reprieve of two score years if Mick could do some middling task for him, and he'd dumped him back in the human world for a few decades.

He'd kept him safe from afar, ensured no one interfered with his counterpart, his property, but tried otherwise to leave him his privacy.

And when the time was up, well.

Then Len had come to him as a dragon of fire and carried him off back to the Underhill because what else could he do? He'd signed a contract with Mick, and he's a creature of order.

Unlike Mick, he has to obey a contract.

But it isn't any better now that Mick was an adult, either, because Mick isn't vacant-eyed with grief anymore, but charming, and inventive, and crude, and different. New.

Human.

A thousand different creatures contained in a single soul: the babe, the child, the teenager, the young adult, older but not necessarily wiser...

A creature born of chaos, as much in love with the fairytale-order offered by the Siders as the Siders were in love with them.

Len hasn't laid a goddamn finger on Mick.

He can't.

But what can he do? He can't let him out of the contract. He can't break a contract.

To be specific, he can’t break a contract.

All he can do is hint at the loopholes and make Mick as comfortable as he can until he figures out how to get out via one of those loopholes.

But he can't do that if Mick keeps trying to escape in a way that makes Len have to chase after him.

"You were supposed to be awful," Mick says suddenly.

"I am," Len objects automatically, because he's unSeelie, damnit. Humans perceived his chosen clan as violent and dark rather than wise and peaceful and light - Len preferred it that way, found it less hypocritical to let the humans see a little of what they were really up against. Lisa, though he loved her, was Seelie: golden of hair, golden of smile, and yet she and her lover, the dark-haired, dark-eyed Cynthia, drew upon human souls with a facility and ease he would never have. "What do you mean by that, anyway?"

"You put me back without making me forget anything, you know," Mick says, turning to look at Len. "Was that on purpose, or accidental? Answer me honestly."

"I didn't want to pervert your mind," Len says, and he is being honest. "I know we're supposed to dull what you know of the Hill, but really, what are you going to do even if you know? Bring cannons?"

"Nukes, maybe," Mick says.

"Bright as flame," Len says, "but just as useless. We're creatures of order - do you really think that we can't put some atoms back in their proper order just because you've gone ahead and split them?"

Mick grunts, acknowledging the point. "We could build better weapons," he points out.

"You could," Len agrees. "Honestly, you probably should, so as to better defend yourself as a species. Get more respect from the Othersiders that way. But I don't know what those weapons would look like."

Mick sighs. "See, that's what bugs me," he complains. "You want us to protect ourselves! You don't want to force-feed on me! You want me to be happy!"

He seems upset.

"I don't understand humans," Len says plaintively. It's not the first time he's said that. Not even the first time to Mick this week, even. "Would it be better if I were cruel?"

"Yes!"

"But why? I don't want to be cruel! I just want -" Len cuts himself off.

Mick rolls over, suddenly interested. "What do you want?"

Len shakes his head.

"No, really," Mick persists. "I know you made a contract with me because you wanted to get an alliance to win that fight against your dad. But once that's done - what do you want?"

"I wish I knew," Len replies sadly. "I've always been - dissatisfied."

"You know something, o Thief For Hire."

Len scowls at Mick. He was too perceptive, even if he did have too much fun with Len's chosen profession once Len had explained what he did to fill his days. It was a perfectly respectable profession, one of daring and creativity and skill, thank you very much.

"What do you want?" Mick asks, his eyes oddly compelling. "Tell me."

Len gives in, as he always gives in. "I want to be free."

He doesn't even know what he means by that, when he says it, just knows that he wants it like he's never wanted anything else.

But Mick seems to understand.

He smiles.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

When the sky rips open and the human invasion-ship arrives to rescue Mick, to take him away, to win him free of his contract per the loopholes traditionally included, Len's almost not even surprised.

He is surprised when Mick convinces his rescue team - they call themselves the Legends, many of them escaped from the Hill themselves and now operating through the in-between spaces of the world to save more of their kind - to take Len with them when they flee the Hill.

They put him in the brig, of course.

Len's okay with that. He's never been in a spaceship before, so it's a brand new experience - chaotic and inspiring.

He picks and re-locks the lock three times before finally deciding it was time to go exploring.

Mick is arguing with the rest of the crew on the bridge -

"- can't just keep him! He's an Othersider!"

"He wants to be free! How does that make him different from the usual people we rescue?!"

"Because he's an Othersider! A kidnapper, not a kidnappee!"

"Actually," the tall smiling man says, "I think Mick really is his first kidnapping - I was looking through the records while we were visiting last time, and his reputation -"

"Am I the only person who remembers the fact that this guy is - an - Othersider?!"

"Don't be racist, Sara -"

Len decides to keep going in his exploration, at this argument doesn't seem likely to finish anytime soon. There's a kitchen, which confuses him for a few moments until he remembers that humans generally construct their own food out of raw ingredients, lacking as they do the ability to simply siphon nutrients out of the relevant objects; a number of bedrooms, all personalized in intriguingly different fashions, of which he can only recognize one as Mick's characteristic messiness; and a gun room, which is hidden behind several walls.

"You shouldn't be in here, you know," the ship's AI informs him.

"I'm just looking around," Len protests. "I'm not doing anything harmful."

"I suspect the crew has a different interpretation of harmful than you do," it says wryly. "For instance, your ability to exit your cell at will, given that it's supposed to be immune to your species' particular powers."

"It is," Len says. "Very impressive. I just picked the lock, that's all."

"I saw," the AI says. "You did it very quickly and quietly and sneakily."

"Sneakily? Don't be ridiculous," Len says. "I'm a thief. If I was being sneaky, you wouldn't have seen me."

"Are you suggesting that your escape was because of your profession rather than your species?"

"Exactly. Why'd they bring me on, anyway? Do you know?"

"Better question," a voice says from behind Len, causing him to turn. "Why did you agree to come?"

It's the ship's captain: a woman, blonde, wearing white and carrying staves with the air of someone who knew how to use them.

"Mick said to," Len explains.

She looks at him for a long moment, clearly expecting more. Her eyebrows arch up when she realizes that's it. "I didn't realize it was so easy to abduct one of your kind."

"It probably isn't," Len says with a shrug. "But, well, he said I should, and I've never been on a spaceship before, and since my previous plan failed, there's no reason not to try something new."

"Your previous plan," the captain says slowly. "The one involving sucking the life out of Mick, yeah?"

"Close enough," Len says. For some human, the difference between inspiration and life was a pretty narrow line. "It was meant to demonstrate that I could fit in with the Tower Clade gentry, to get them on my side, but I couldn't do it - either during his childhood or his adulthood."

"Yeah, we noticed that," she says. "We had Gideon check on him, and he's not been drained at all."

"I wouldn't have liked to see him grey," Len says. He had nightmares about it, sometimes, vivid ones where he could see himself achieving the pinnacle of all his dreams - his Father gone and locked away - but only at the cost of Mick crushed beneath his feet. It was never worth it. "I like Mick."

"If you didn't like doing it, why did you want to join this - clade?"

"The Tower Clade. And they would have helped me gain advantage against my Father."

She frowns. "Your father?"

Len nods. "He is no longer stronger than me such that he can obtain compliance by force, so he comes up with other ways to get it, like threatening my sister."

"You - Okay. Huh. I didn't know Othersiders could have abusive dads."

"Anyone can," Len says. "It's the penalty paid for allowing anyone who wants to to reproduce."

"...right. Point. Okay. Are you planning on betraying us?"

"To whom?"

"I don't know, anyone. Other Othersiders."

"I don't particularly care about you lot," Len says honestly. "But if Mick doesn't want me to, I won't."

The captain doesn't look entirely pleased with that answer, but she shrugs and accepts it. "Welcome aboard, then, I guess," she says. "You'll have to earn your keep."

"I can do that," Len says. "I'm a Thief for Hire."

"What, really? Okay. Well, we don't do much thieving - rescue missions are more our style."

"People can be stolen," Len points out. "Memories. Lives. Kneecaps. I'm a very good thief, when I'm hired to be."

The captain purses her lips. "And what does it take to hire you?"

"I take many forms of trade -" Len begins his usual sales pitch, but there's cough at the door.

It's Mick.

Len turns to him with a smile.

"You're going to offer a reasonable trade," Mick instructs. Len can't blame him for doubting; he's overheard some of Len's negotiations.

"Very well," Len agrees, feeling strangely mellow. Happy, even. Is he happy? It's been such a long time.

He likes this, whatever this is. Being abducted by humans. He likes it.

"What's your price, then?" Mick asks.

"A kiss from you," Len says on impulse. "One per theft."

Mick flushes red.

The captain starts to laugh. "Oh, it's like that, is it?"

"It is not!" Mick exclaims.

"It isn't?" Len asks with a frown.

"Okay, maybe it kind of is - but it wasn't - not back where we were -"

"I wouldn't take advantage of you when you were in my power," Len says. "But you've escaped your contract, so now you're an equal again - as much as humans can be, anyway, the Law is really terrible - and that means I can try to lure you into a new contract."

The captain's laughter dies. "Another draining contract?"

"No," Len says patiently. It's not her fault - she probably has limited experience with Othersider contracts. "A marriage."

"Whoa, there," Mick says. "Hold your damn horses. Marriage?!"

"It's the final goal," Len assures him. "I intend to spend months and months in extended negotiations convincing you of what a good idea it is."

"He's asking you out," the captain translates. "To potentially start a serious relationship."

"But," Mick says, but for all his verbal objections coming out of his mouth, his body language is quite positive. Len feels like he has reasonable basis for hope. "He's an Othersider!"

"May you have more luck with that argument than I did," the captain says wryly. "If he's good enough to travel with, then he's good enough all around. If you want to date him, don't let us stop you."

Mick is silent for a long moment.

"Well?" Len asks.

"Oh, all right," Mick says. "But no tricks! And we're going to negotiate you a better price than kisses, because I don't want to be limited!"

Len's never been happier to be abducted.

#dccoldwave #coldwaveweek2018 #mick rory #leonard snart #my fic

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lawofavgs · 7 years ago

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The Sacrifices We Make - Chapter 4

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

The next morning, I spent an unreasonable amount of time in my room. Everything I could think of to delay going downstairs, I did at a snail’s pace. I made the bed, with corners that would impress any drill sergeant. I dressed myself with the care of someone who had never worn the traditional 18th century garments. I finger-combed my hair, stroke after stroke, until I could no longer find a tangle. Eventually, I had to face the terrifying concept of going downstairs for breakfast – and the potential conflict awaiting me. I just had to keep telling myself the result of what I had done was worth the cost.

I crept into the kitchen, heart beating rapidly as I looked around for signs of danger. A couple of servants bustled in and out – less than I was used to seeing around Lallybroch. A sigh of relief bubbled out of me as I saw a pot of porridge still simmering. Scoping myself a portion, I turned to scurry back to my room and let out a yelp, nearly dropping my bowl in the process.

“Murtagh!”

The man in question raised two bushy eyebrows in surprise before looking at me speculatively. He took in my appearance and I tried not to shrink under his appraisal.

“Aye, and ye’re the Sassenach witch Brian’s been havering about for years,” he spoke plainly, and I expected no different. It was certainly better than the first first impression we had – him playing rescuer then kidnapper all in the span of 2 minutes. Though I was looked upon as a witch, I felt secure in the knowledge that no one at Lallybroch would have me burnt at the stake.

Save perhaps one inexplicably angry red head.

“Well, not exactly a witch, but yes. The Prophesizing Sassenach. I should take my act on the road. Though, I refuse to sing this time.”

Murtagh looked at me as though I was a loon, and I could tell he was already itching to make a hasty retreat from the kitchen. “I dinna ken what you are, truly. All that matters is that ye’ll bring no harm to the people here.”

“Never. You have my word. I just want to see everyone at Lallybroch safe,” I promised. After searching my face for honestly, he nodded once, appeased by what he saw. Without another word, he grabbed a bannock and marched out of the kitchen.

Right past a glowering Jamie.

I couldn’t understand it. What had I done to enrage him so? Not once in all the time I had known him had he once shown this kind of derision for me. Even before we were married, traveling with the rent party, it was more like gentle impatience when I refused to open up to him or accept the Highland way of life.

Hell, even in France when I tried to stop him from duelling with Randall, his rage was reserved for Black Jack. I only received his hurt and betrayal.

“You may have my father fooled, but I’m no’ so easily swayed by mysterious words and a sweet smile,” he warned before disappearing after his godfather. I was left speechless. Did saving his father and sparing him from Randall really change him that much? I couldn’t see a trace of the sweet Jamie I had known for three years.

One thing hadn’t changed though. Jamie was still a man who would defend his family against any perceived threat, and to him, that’s what I was.

Shoulders slumped, I tried once more to escape to the sanctuary that was my room. Fate seemed to be against me, however, as I saw Jenny darning socks in the sitting room.

“Dinna fash yerself over my brother. He has his own matters to deal with,” she informed me with a smile as she continued her work.

“Yes, I gathered that. He was never so....”

“Angry as a stung horse and stubborn as an ox?” Jenny finished for me. I couldn’t help the wry laugh that escaped me.

“The stubbornness I expected. That is a Fraser trait, after all.” At this she smirked and offered no argument. “The anger, however, that one is new. I thought with the information I gave your father and the moments he averted, Jamie would have had an easier life.”

“Well, I dinna ken exactly how things were supposed to go originally – Da was always vague about the details – but life has no’ exactly been easy for Jamie since that prophecy of yers. I get his frustrations. Father would barely let me cross the doorway without an escort, and always sent me to the priest hole when there were sightings of Redcoats. But for Jamie, it was worse. The lad fostered at Leoch and studied at a university in France. He was ready to be a man upon returning to Lallybroch but was instead treated as if he were a boy. Hiding from the English and never going to Broch Mordha without Father or Murtagh. He thought he would be marrit with bairns by now, preparing to be Laird.”

I started at both revelations: that Jamie had led such a sheltered life these past 6 years, and that he was still unmarried despite his status (and many other positive traits).

“I didn’t…I didn’t realize your father would go to those extremes. I thought he would just prevent the one incident I told him about, prepare for the failed uprising, and then life would go on as normal,” I stuttered, setting my now-cold porridge on a table and dropping onto the settee.

“Oh aye, it was like father changed overnight. We could see the difference in him after he brought you back to the fairy hill, but after whatever happened or didn’t happen that October, he became paranoid. His father always had an interest in the supernatural, but Da held no stock in seers or fairies or the like. It was bad enough that people called him a selkie. Once he believed what you told him to be true, it was like he feared fate would come to rebalance the scales.”

“Do you believe me? That I’m from the future?” My voice came out small, and I was surprised at how badly I needed her to say yes.

She regarded me for a moment, weighed the thoughts in her mind and took measurement of them. Finally she said, “I do, aye. I dinna ken what you are exactly, or how it works, but I ken you had knowledge of events that would come to pass and you shared that information with my father. Was it really because you wanted to help? You had no ulterior motives?”

“I swear to you,” I breathed out, “I only meant to save your family from pain.”

Jenny graced me with that typical Fraser nod of acquiescent, confident in her assessment of me, before she returned to the task in her hands. As I rose to leave, I heard her add, “Be patient with Jamie. He’s thick-heided but he’s kind. Once he figures out for himself that you mean no ill will, he’ll no’ treat you so rudely.”

I certainly hoped she was right.

After half-heartedly prodding at the congealed porridge I had brought up to my room, I managed to finish every last bite – the thought of the upcoming famine never far from my mind – and meandered out to the courtyard. The promise of summer was slowly starting to fill the air, and I considered asking Brian if I could tend to some of the gardens. If I were to take up the post of healer for Lallybroch and Broch Mordha, I would need to build up supplies and....

“What are you doing poking about?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin upon hearing Jamie’s near-accusing question. “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! Must you sneak up on people like that?”

Despite his stormy demeanor, he managed a smirk – bloody bastard was pleased with himself. “Aye, weel, if you arena doing anything wrong, you wouldna be so quick to startle.”

“I’ll have you know I was just taking stock of what the gardens need,” I informed him as I crossed my arms defensively. “There are plenty of wild herbs growing on the property that can be transferred and tended to here.”

“Ye ken what grows on the property, do ye?”

I sighed, still coming to terms with his attitude paired with such a familiar voice and face. It was a constant battle to remind myself that this wasn’t my Jamie. This Jamie cast a suspicious eye on me, wary of my intent and annoyed at the shadow I left over his transition into adulthood. I knew he blamed me for the change in his father’s personality, and despite the reason for it, it was hard for him to gain perspective.

It would be easy to think him ungrateful, given the changes made and the trials and tribulations avoided, but to him those events would simply be abstract concepts. How could one wrap their mind around terrible things that would never come to pass? The only thing Jamie knew was the sudden lack of freedom and a superstitious father. Besides, according to Jenny, Brian never went into detail about the horrors that would befall their family.

Still, it was difficult to be at odds with Jamie, any version of Jamie. I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t flutter when Jenny mentioned he was unmarried. Visions quickly flashed through my mind, of the two of us together and happy and whole, with our child on the way.

But how could that dream ever be reality when Jamie held such a disdain for me? And how do you tell a man that even though you’ve never made love, you’re carrying his child? It was a concept I could barely straighten out in my mind, and I was living it. I started to wonder if coming back to Lallybroch, if staying here, was the right choice. Once again, I had to remind myself that this wasn’t about me; every decision I made would have to be for the baby. In the end, I knew that no matter where our paths led – together or separate – I needed to end this battle.

“All right, that’s it. You and I are going to discuss this like adults. No more sneering or snide remarks. I’m sure you have a lot of questions and I’m willing to answer them,” I informed him, squaring my shoulders and preparing for conflict.

Jamie had the good sense to look at least a little chastised but shook his head. “I’ll no’ get into a stramash wi’ you in the dooryard of my home.”

“Then where would you like to go? The barn? The mill wheel? The other side of the broch?” I could hear the snippiness in my tone but I couldn’t help it. Even if Jamie was acting out over something he didn’t understand, he was still being an arse.

Surprisingly, Jamie turned with a huff and nodded towards the barn. Maybe I had expected him to refuse my suggestion of a tête-à-tête and continue on stubbornly with his bitter behaviour. It was hard to predict his thoughts and his future choices the way I once used to. Where once stood a man forced to grow up quickly, now was a lad whose protected life may have bred an immaturity I never saw in him.

When we stepped inside the barn, I held my arms out in a gesture of invitation for his interrogation. “Whatever you want to know; ask. I will try to answer as best and as honestly as I can. Someone once told me about having room for secrets but not for lies. You have my word that everything I tell you will be the truth, but I reserve the right to hold onto some secrets of my life.”

Jamie sized me up, taking pause to formulate a line of questioning – or perhaps a plan of attack. Steeling himself in a gesture I had seen before, he started, “Are you a witch?”

Suddenly I was seated under a giant tree that blocked out the sun, my dress torn and my back stinging from being strapped. Instead of a suspicious tone, I heard one of concern. I saw blue eyes that pleaded for truth, regardless of what that truth might be. I saw a man who was not looking to condemn me, but protect me.

“I’m not a witch,” I answered, the same way as the first time. “In truth, I don’t know what I am. You’ve heard of “The Woman of Balnain”? That seems like the closest explanation, though not entirely the same. The only thing I do know is when I touch the stones atop Craigh Na Dun, I travel through time. I don’t know the rhyme or reason behind when I end up. I’ve also met one other woman with the…ability.”

Geillis Duncan. Would she have met the same fate in this altered timeline? I couldn’t think of a reason why it would have been avoided. The only difference would be her going through the trial alone.

“What purpose did you have, coming here and warning my father of dark days?” he asked as he lowered himself onto a rickety old stool. Even seated, he was an imposing figure. I pondered his question, piecing out how to answer truthfully without revealing facts about the life we would have led together without my interference.

“At first, I didn’t know what year I was in. With no family to go to, I figured here would be the safest. I knew the people to be kind and trustworthy. When I met your father, I decided to warn him.” As I explained my rationale, I wondered if that was the reason I ended up in 1740. My mind and my heart had been so focused on saving Brian – wee Brian, not yet born, perhaps the stones saw fit to send me to a time where I could save his namesake instead. “How much did your father tell you about my warning?”

“I thought I was the one asking questions,” Jamie remarked with a half-smile. I must have been so starved for positive affection from him, because that small joke paired with the slight upturn of his lips had me glowing. I watched Jamie’s brow furrow as he recalled Brian’s words from years past. “All he said was a White Lady had warned him of life-altering events caused by the British army, and that the scenario you spoke to him about came to pass. He never said what was to happen, or what proof he had that you were anything but a loon. All I ken was how fearful he became every time he heard tell of Redcoats near our lands. I believe if he could have locked Jenny and I up in a tower, he would have.”

Given what Jenny told me, I knew Brian had withheld what I told him, but I didn’t realize to what extent. I was curious as to why he chose not to tell his children, even if it meant bearing their resentment or confusion. And though it may not have been my place, I truly felt Jamie deserved to know the full story. And so I told him, in general statements that were still more detailed than the information he had, about what had been prevented. I watched the colour drain from his face as I went on, confirming to him why Brian had developed such an aversion to the English.

“Please don’t be angry with your father. I’m sure he had his reasons for not telling you the whole story.”

Jamie’s gaze remained fixed on a far wall – the thousand yard stare I had seen from him many times before. I could tell his mind was working hard, turning over what I had said and moments from the past six years that were taking on a new meaning to him. Finally he looked at me, seeing right to my very soul, before standing and walking past me towards the door.

Before he could cross the threshold, he stopped and turned back to me. “I still don’t understand this, but if what you say is the truth, then I thank ye. Not just for me, but for my family and our tenants. For saving my father’s life. And…I’m sorry. I blamed you for things that werena yer doing, painted ye in a false light, and I treated ye poorly.”

With a stately bow, Jamie took his leave. It was all I could do to remain on my feet and get my emotions under control enough to head back to the house.

#outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #claire x jamie #jamie x claire #outlander #the sacrifices we make #fanfic

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afro-elf · 7 years ago

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How to Listen to Hozier: A Guide in Escapism with The Troubadour Hero

@farrahda5hy wrote this days ago and it’s every thought i’ve ever had about this fucking album and i really feel understood

The narrative I am proposing is personal to me, and I do not claim that it is proper or correct way to listen to this album. However, I will be providing commentary on how I compose this specific narrative. These steps are really boiling down how I perceive things so see them as the end all be all. The instructions are comprised on two main factors: one’s beloved and the constructed world that exists in one’s mind.

1. First, identify your beloved. I don’t have a significant other which is why I probably am going to choose Sweet Andy Hozier himself. Also, he’s a neat guy and quite a charmer and activist…etc. This step should be easier for those are in relationships. As reductive as this may sound, it is important that one chose a few words that summarize the relationship with one’s significant other. 2. The self-construction is really only important to listen experience. It’s really where your mind goes to when you’re listening to the album. For those who are taking the beloved to the narrator (Andy as Narrator maybe) approach, I assume this step would be harder or potentially easier as one’s mind is free to run wild as you are not tied down to reality. As a creative writer, I live and thrive in this space.

I am choosing the words: Fluid, Bold, Chaotic, Sarcastic, Overwhelming, and Passionate.

As for this world construction, I usually go back to my hometown within the Appalachian mountains, specifically the Smokey mountains. For me, this place represents a mysticism that I have created for myself. Honestly, it is quite the opposite of the Bog People villas described in the album, but there’s a large number Irish descendants in this area. But like I said, it’s more personal and obviously idealistic. I don’t care for my hometown, but I’m in love with how it made me feel and the bastardized version of it that exists in my head now that somehow blurred into my new city.

Taking these basic elements, I’m forming this new track list organization. Hold on to your hats, it’s going to get fucking wild and possibly a bit fanfic, so as Griffin McElroy says “just fucking play in this space with me.”

Track one: Take Me to Church.

Yes, don’t at me. This song is in fact the first song on the album, but I think it sets the tone for the narrative. Two lines that stick out are “She’s the giggle at a funeral” and “My church offers no absolutes.” Honestly, these lines really stick out to me. Immediately, it identifies the woman in the relationship as other to what is excepted in society. Quite frankly as black woman, I’m kind always in that category, you know. Not to mention the hella gospel tones and such. The second line mentioned out of context is very much a declaration of acceptance which is bomb, but also naive in a way in a new love sense. Because of course within relationships, there are aspects that are fine in the beginning or on some levels but cause problems in the long-run. For me, I identify as the woman who the subject of the song. Honestly, I’m that gal who’s going to say wise shit to you, but will also doubt herself. But I’m a “fuck what the world thinks” person and overcompensate by existing in this “let’s take down the world” ideology.

Track two: Jackie and Wilson

This song is so damn playful, and it’s this feeling of hopefulness and disappointment in a way. Really the entire breakdown of the song throws your head into a loop. There’s this one-sided commitment, and I guess when I get to that part of the song I’m always thinking “yeah, bud, I like you, but shit, this thing can’t last forever right? Don’t tie yourself down to me because woof…buddy, I’m a roadtrip you do not want to go on.” The song is trying to come to terms with a partner who isn’t giving their 150%. Also, for my mental music video, Hozier has his hair down the entire car ride and sunglasses on, and I’m sticking my whole body out the car with an lit cigarette in my left hand while we do donuts in Kroger parking lot.

Track Three: Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene

This song is another one where the breakdown of the song is the most powerful. Really the song speaks for its self. The relationship just is toxic and overwhelming and in need of escape. Every time I listen to this song, I imagine myself in a basement at a drum set. It didn’t really occur to me that it’s the chaotic feeling and the need to escape that I have latch on to.

Track four: Someone New

Forget everything you know about this song, okay. Because this song is literally the “Take Me or Leave Me” moment. Literally until the breakdown of the song, I imagine the beloved singing the verses rather than Sweet Andy. It’s very much a “we’re not working. We’re trying other people.”

Two things I want to highlight: the lyrics of the breakdown. This first part will not make as much sense until I talk about the next song. But Jealous!Hozier is a fucking thing. I find this interesting, but until then, there’s this “I’m level headed and open about my emotions” air about him. But this delightful pang of jealousy adds dimension to what I call the Hozier Troubadour Hero. The female character (or the one I have constructed in my own head) as main vocalist is just as level-headed and falsely self-aware. Then there’s this arrow of “oh yeah we’re doing this thing and seeing other people, but I’m not happy about seeing you with other people.”

The line “Love with every stranger. The stranger the better.” I love this wordplay. But against the line “how pure how sweet in love Aretha that you would pray for him,” it’s fucking taunting and bitter as hell. Really, starting the album of with Take Me to Church reflects this disregard for organized religion, which is no stranger to Hozier, but the beloved seems to still exists in that sphere. But I also want to read in another way that it’s bittersweet to the Hozier!character that this beloved still prays for him although she’s involved with another person. I don’t know. It’s interesting.

Quickly, I want to highlight the other vocal overlay that actually comes between the two lines mentioned. I get this air of confrontation and then the “NO ITS COOL IM HAPPY THAT YOUR HAPPY WITH SOMEONE NEW”. Once again, I imagine this argument taking place in an apartment living room.

Here, I would like to introduce a distinction between the characters. The Hozier character is very much fluid that is very self contained chaos whereas the female character is very much open chaos. As a fire signs, I totally get that. Hozier being a water sign is very fluid in what we stereotypically thing as fluid, but we also don’t always see water as destructive in comparison to fire.

Track Five: From Eden

To this day, I still wonder if this is a love song. I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be. But I find this song to be one of my favorites.

I want to flip the imagery of Jackie and Wilson and delve more into the Chaotic!Hozier characterization. Obviously, this song is very upfront with the Garden of Eden serpent allusion. This song exists in the uncertainty of relationship. The “are we or aren’t we” spheres. To sum it up, this is a conversation happening in a car. Oddly, person in the passenger seat (Hozier) is leading the conversation and the beloved as the driver really doesn’t want to have this conversation.

The ending of first verse give us little snippets, and it appears that the beloved flaws are being pointed out or Hozier is anticipating the responses from the driver. But also let’s return back to this serpent imagery. Hozier aligns himself with the serpent in Eden, so the idea of corruption is very highly in this imagined car ride.

When I first heard this song, I got the “bad boy who doesn’t let everyone know he’s a bad boy” vibe.” I really gripped on to this concept; along with other religious allusions, I really don’t know how to objectively look at them. For me, it’s a little “Walk to Remember-ish” where the preachers daughter is in love with the bad boy. I don’t know, but really at the heart of it, the narrative boils down to “I’m going to corrupt this persons core, and I don’t have remorse at all.” Understanding what this concept means on personal level will determine whether it’s a love song or whether it’s an act of selfishness disguised as love.

Track Six: Foreigners God

I’ll admit. I didn’t really get this song after my initial listen to the album. I think for me it’s just too personal. I grew up in a Christian household, going to a very charismatic church. So the line that really sticks out it’s very simple “It’s Foreign to me”. I’ll just leave that there.

It’s really an outsider looking in and not understanding and forming their own opinions. While “Take Me to Church” is very much a “sex in an abandoned church (or whatever) type of jam that highlights the oppressive aspects of organized religion, “Foreigners God” really displays the frustration of separating the comforting parts from all the oppressive aspects.

This scene takes place in the abandoned church, and I want to react in this way of “God is here” in this desolation that some people don’t understand. Going back to that fire fluidity, I just imagine myself dancing in this church with like a song under my breath and releasing all this anger I’ve shared with no one. Then Sweet Andy Hozier is just watching in the door frame in the background. Not even sitting in the pew.

Track Seven: Cherry Wine

I think I’m just punching a window out. Car window. A church window. A bedroom window.

This pivotal point of realization that “hey maybe you’re the one that’s holding you back and lashing out at people isn’t the best.” But the tragedy is there’s still a lack of self awareness. Like you’re angry but you still put blame on other people. Yeah…

Track Eight: Sedated

This song is another one of those songs that I interpret as the point of view of the beloved based on the breakdown of the song, but I still want to look at the Hozier character POV

“Darling, don’t stand there watching won’t you come save me from this. Darling, don’t you join in you’re supposed to drag me away from this.”

That’s desperation. That’s a little toxic in a way. Expecting a person to save you, but yet, forgetting that person may need saving themselves is selfish. What makes Jackie and Wilson so tragic is this naivety. “She’s going to save me call me ‘baby’ run her hands to my hair.” Yeah, that’s sweet and cute, but what are you doing in return. Falling in love with this idealized strong woman, but then denying her the opportunity to be vulnerable is very much the corruption I spoke about in From Eden.

Honestly, the worst part about hiding vulnerability is when it rushes out like a dam breaking or when a fire is no longer contained.

Track Nine: Arsonist’s Lullaby

I call it the pagan ritual version of Foreigners God or when Chaotic!Hozier is at his most powerful and vulnerable. Why? Is it the relinquishing of this vulnerability for his beloved to use as her discretion or is it his acknowledgment of hers and offering to aid her in channeling it? Yes, but it’s also the fire within him, the passion, the chaos, and the darkness that fuels him. He is both talking to the beloved and himself.

For the sake of the conversation, this scene also takes place in the same abandoned church, and Hozier gets up to where he stage used to be; barefoot and hair pulled back. At first, he’s swaying gently, fluid like as flame is first lit with back facing the congregation. He’s like this for a few moments and then he’s twirling around the abandoned stage until he’s almost stomping his feet. Thump. Thump. Thump. Suddenly, everything changes and his hair falls out the ponytail and turns around and the stumps are more violent, yet the dance is just as fluid until he steps down from stage…the intense eye contact is fucking overwhelming. He just walks out the abandoned church leaving his shoes like some awoken wild child.

Track Ten: My Love will Never Die

Do you like blues? Welp. This song speaks for its fucking self. Do you want Sad!Hozier crooning in a room by himself? Because that’s what he’s doing, babe.

Track Eleven: In the Woods Somewhere I get a lot of fever dream vibes from this song, so I can only imagine it as something just not real. So I present you with an actual dream I had about Hozier I had once.

Pretty much, I dreamt Hozier was this shapeshifter who turned into a fox that was terrorizing the town in his fox state. It was more a vigilante like thing, but it was tragic because I had to kill the fox out of mercy.

The song also talks about a similar scene. So mercy killing when you’re in love is very much something that hard to describe, but you have to do it to the other person when you love them. I don’t know. So just imagine Hozier shooting up out of dead sleep fever dream.

Track Twelve: Run

Also a ritual dance, but also possibly a fever dream? This song introduces the field/nature imagery to relationship narrative. The metronome in the background mirrors the jerky dancing of the beloved from the Foreigners God portion but the tempo of the drums gives rhythm to the fluidity of the Hozier!Character. Both of these two sounds represent being grounded, and they work in unison. This unison is a first really. Playing that fever dream, the song seems to end abruptly and I think that’s the true awakening of the Hozier!Character physically and emotionally.

The dream itself is the couple dancing in a field together in the afternoon. I could go further with this dream, but I’m going explain it as actual event later.

Track Thirteen: It Will Come Back

The best song on the album, not to mention a song of seduction. It’s an unintentional sexy song. I wish it were a duet or at least have more prominent female background vocals. While seduction isn’t the best term for the overall narrative, what I am trying to say is a song of pleading for so many things: to be let go, to be let in, or to be cast aside to make it easier to move on. Wild Eye, Sleep-Deprived Hozier is walking around barefoot at three am across town to reconcile his feelings, and then he’s just singing and howling outside my house? Of course, I’m going to let him in. “Don’t you hear me howling, babe?” The faded of the last line is so interesting, and it brings me back to Sedated’s line “I keep catching little words, but the meanings thin.” I just occurred to me is that the expression of vulnerability is very metaphorically, but on the literal manifestations are different. The Hozier!Character is very much a “tell me with your words”; the beloved is very much “tell me with your actions. “Don’t you hear me howling, babe” takes on another meaning in which the question is literally “you’ve seen me vulnerable, but did you hear what I actually said. I love you so much that it’s animalistic and consuming the humanity in me.” That’s oddly beautiful.

Track Fourteen: To Be Alone

So I bet you were wondering when I was going to talk more about the location part. Well, here is it. I grew up in the middle of the Bible Belt. Sometimes when you’re not conforming you feel like everyone is looking at you whether they are or not. At on a more concrete level, my hometown used to have a festival called the Fall Festival, and they would have a series of out door concerts of various artists. This event was usually held downtown. Honestly, I’m not to big on crowds, but at the same time, I adore being alone in a crowd or with one person while out in public. To Be Alone captured that vibe very well. Returning the relationship, at this point, the air of ambiguity of relationship still exists; however, the relationship is heading toward stability in my opinion. I just love the image of Chaotic!Hozier dancing in a crowd simultaneously ignoring everyone else while be fully away of the contained space he’s got to be close with his lover. Then just going the fuck home for sex just because the mood allowed it to feel sacred in some way. Maybe it was the dream of the two lovers dancing in the field.

Track Fifteen: In A Week

The only duet on this album! UGH SO DAMN GOOD! A lovely balances of vocals; they are playing off each other. It’s very much stereotypical “we finish each other’s sentences” concept but actualized very well. So maybe the sex didn’t happen after the festival, but that closeness and intimate is still present. Despite being allergic to grass, I like lying in the grass. I also like the macabre. So nothing is out of place, and it’s all intimate joke to describe a seemingly tragic love that is no longer tragic.

Track Sixteen: Like Real People Do

Something tragic about that this song (it’s probably the true story behind it) but also romantic. As the penultimate song in the album, it’s very much the final acceptance of all the flaws, frustrations, and the opposition within. Not to be sexy, this song is the foreplay to the final song. This is the outside conversation on the porch before you invite your lover into the house to stay the night and lead your lover upstairs or to the couch or the floor Whatever floats your passionate boat.

Track Seventeen: Work Song

It’s the only song on the album that doesn’t seem to have baggage behind it. It’s purely romantic. I put this song in opposition to Take Me to Church really. I imagine that’s why I put it at the the end. This song is true acceptance not the fake acceptance in Take Me to Church. The line “Heaven and Hell were words to me” signifies this point. Everything I’ve described throughout this narrative as been about duality and finding where the lines blur for this relationship to be functional. “Work Song” finally rejects that ideology and allows the relationship to heal and flourish. So in this moment, let’s return back to this abandoned church that this couple has made their own sanctuary (face it they are fucking weird) but it’s not broken down or stuffy. It’s homely as they camp out for the night making their bed at the abandoned altar. The couple makes love in the moonlight that peeks in through the shattered window. The whole damn cosmos witness the rebellion that manifests in their love. So yeah, I’m curious to what the narrative of the reverse of this track list. I didn’t have this narrative planned out in my head. It just came organically as I was writing. Honestly if i had written my original idea it would have been more fantasy driven and a lot more Chaotic!Hozier. If you’re curious about that let me know. Also, I will try to do one of the original track list because it’s more of a challenge.

#farrahda5hy #submission #hozier

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xtruss · 3 years ago

Text

These Travel Restrictions Must End

Closed Borders Over a Virus That is Everywhere. Hilarious. And Tragic.

— By Jeffrey A. Tucker | September 15, 2021 | Brownstone Institute | Covid Pol Pots

On matters epidemiological, I’m a dedicated follower of Professor Sunetra Gupta of Oxford University, scientist and novelist. It was she who granted me a broad understanding of the relationship between society, freedom, and infectious disease.

She explained the urgency to get this right lest we recreate and institutionalize a caste system that delineates one group from another based on perceived cleanliness and thus harms everyone while setting back human rights and freedoms.

Looking at data only gets one so far. We all need deeper understanding. She gave me that.

Also, she is a wonderful person.

So of course I wanted to bring Sunetra to the United States for a Brownstone Institute event. She is a hero among many in the United States, and people deserve to meet her and get her thoughts. She lives in London. It’s a nice flight from there to here. Why not?

It cannot happen, at least not now. Since March 2020, UK citizens cannot travel to the US unless they have some special exemption granted by the US government. I’m not even sure I would know how to obtain that. I’m guessing that the Biden administration is not likely to grant an exception for her.

So we are stuck. She is stuck. Here is the map of the world from the point of view of UK travelers. Only Mexico and Columbia are fully open. The states in orange are restricted. The states in red are closed.

Hundreds of millions of people are stuck. Billions. We are all prisoners at some level and in some ways. We cannot have guests visit us from Europe. In retaliation, Europe is mostly closed to the US. The US has loosened restrictions for Australians but Australians are not allowed out. Or have a look at Sweden, one of the few states in the world that did not lock down. They are not allowed to travel much at all outside their own borders due to restrictions from other nations.

Why some nations are open, and others are not, is a mystery. There does not seem to be any rational reason except for vague claims of the need to be safe from Covid. Our governments did this to us. They intervened in a world of happy world travelers and smashed it, in the name of controlling a virus that is absolutely everywhere and has been for two years.

There is no precedent in modern history for such restrictions. There is also very little debate about this, which is shocking. The world spent decades in outrage about the closures between East and West Germany. Tear down this wall! When the Berlin Wall fell, the whole world celebrated. Now the world is filled with walls, not just to migration (though it’s bizarre that the US actually has huge immigration inflows from the Southern border) but even to normal travelers.

Much of this began January 31, 2020, when Trump banned travel for non-US citizens from China. It was a controversial decision within the administration, even among public-health experts, because it had long been conventional wisdom that such travel bans are harmful.

The virus was already here and spreading, though in those days the US had very little testing and so Trump believed that he could perhaps keep the virus out. He was wrong about that. Even so, I recall some people on the left objecting but the travel ban connected with many people’s intuition that the way to deal with a virus is to force some kind of separation.

That travel ban unleashed two habits of thought that ended up driving the rest of the lockdowns.

The first habit was to believe that the virus is over there but not here. It doesn’t matter where the “there” and the “here” is; it’s just a reflection of a primitive belief that “they” are dirty and “we” are clean, or that the virus is some kind of miasmic fog floating somewhere where we are not. If you live in the miasmic zone, some of the bad air might stick to you. This later came to be the driving impulse behind state-level quarantines and restrictions.

You probably noticed this yourself. No matter where you live, the people there always imagined that they were in some kind of disease-free bubble that could be easily penetrated by invaders. This attitude still persists. In the Northeast of the US, vast numbers of people are somehow convinced that Texas and the South are full of disease, such that if you travel there and come back, you are likely carrying this virus. And this isn’t just about the vaccination rates; this habit of mind was there from the beginning.

That connects directly with the second habit of mind: the belief that the way to control the virus was via human separation. One you start to think this way, the logic becomes unstoppable. It’s not just about the Chinese. It’s about everyone outside the border. Outside the state. Outside the county. Outside the neighborhood. Outside the home. Outside this room.

The implications of this view are profound. It impacts directly on the possibility of human freedom itself.

On March 12, 2020, Trump announced the next step, which shocked me but should not have. He blocked all travel from Europe. He said this would reduce the threat and ultimately defeat the virus – a statement that embodies his highly confused views on this matter from the beginning. He also garbled a sentence that ended up having a devastating economic result. He meant to say that the ban would exempt goods. Instead he said the following: “These prohibitions will not only apply to the tremendous amount of trade and cargo, but various other things as we get approval. Anything coming from Europe to the United States is what we are discussing.” The stock market immediately tanked.

I had no idea that the US president even had such power. I certainly never imagined he would use it. On the other hand, it made sense in a crazy way. If he could stop travel from China to keep the virus out, he could stop travel from anywhere. As a result of one man’s decision, world travel and vast amounts of normal commerce came to a halt.

The virus circulated anyway, not only in the US but everywhere in the world. These days the world makes fun of places like Australia and New Zealand where they imagined that they could somehow keep the virus out by controlling people’s movements in and out of the country. But that is precisely what Trump was doing too!

As a result of his edict, millions of Americans living abroad desperately bought tickets to get back to the US before the ban went into effect. They arrived at international airports that were wildly crowded at all the immigration and customs chokepoints. The waits in Los Angeles and Chicago were many hours, even up to 8 hours, standing shoulder to shoulder with people who had flown in from all over the world. This was happening the same day that Drs. Fauci and Birx were lecturing Americans to “socially distance” and stay away from other people in order to control the virus. The whole scene was emblematic of two years of policy chaos, with leaders ordering people around in ways that made the chaos worse rather than better.

During the remainder of the Trump term, between March and January, people inside the administration were trying their best to stop these preposterous rules. But there was always a problem. The danger was that opening up travel again could somehow be associated with increased cases and deaths from Covid, and that contract tracing would be deployed to show it. In that case, whomever was responsible for reopening would catch the blame. No one inside the Trump administration was willing to take the risk. So everything stayed shut.

The Biden administration could have opened also but the same problem presented itself. The borders were shut to the world, and no one wanted to take the risk of reopening, even though the virus was already here, there, and everywhere. Opening would not have made any difference. Would it have increased the “spread” of the virus or its prevalence? Not any more than was already the case.

Further, we know for sure that being exposed to the virus is the best means to obtain immunities from it, from which we get the counterintuitive conclusion that it would actually be safer for everyone to have people travel here from countries that had already dealt with the virus. After the vaccine came along, one might have supposed that there would be opening at least to those who took the jab, but there was another problem: the gradual realization that the vaccine doesn’t actually stop infection or spread. Thus are the borders still closed to this day.

There was no consensus in public health for the travel bans. On March 2, 2020, 800 public health experts signed a letter that recommended against them. “Travel restrictions also cause known harms, such as the disruption of supply chains for essential commodities,” they wrote, while citing a piece in Science Daily that reviewed thousands of studies on travel bans that was unable to come up with any conclusive evidence that they accomplish anything in terms of disease containment.

Already back in 2006, Donald Henderson had echoed the conventional wisdom, not only of his colleagues but also of the World Health Organization.

Travel restrictions, such as closing airports and screening travelers at borders, have historically been ineffective. The World Health Organization Writing Group concluded that “screening and quarantining entering travelers at international borders did not substantially delay virus introduction in past pandemics . . . and will likely be even less effective in the modern era.”

Similar conclusions were reached by public health authorities involved in the international efforts to control SARS. Canadian health authorities report that “available screening measures for SARS were limited in their effectiveness in detecting SARS among inbound or outbound passengers from SARS-affected areas.” A review by a WHO Working Group on SARS also concluded that “entry screening of travelers through health declarations or thermal scanning at international borders had little documented effect on detecting SARS cases.”…

It is reasonable to assume that the economic costs of shutting down air or train travel would be very high, and the societal costs involved in interrupting all air or train travel would be extreme.

The longer these restrictions exist to travelers from other countries, the more resentment that foreign nations feel. They are retaliating. Indeed, states all over Europe have removed the US from the list of countries to which it is considered safe to travel. Even Sweden is in on the act, banning nonessential travelers from the US. The restrictions are getting worse, not better.

The US could end this escalation of restrictions that have shut down the beautiful world of travel simply by reopening to the world, same as was true before the Trump administration embarked on this wild experiment. The emergence of global travel in the 20th century – its universal availability and practice – was one of the great triumphs of liberalism and modernity.

We rejected the isolation, parochialism, and local stagnation of the past and sought out knowledge and adventures all over the globe. We encountered new people, new places, new experiences. The world became open to all, thanks to commercialized flight. This also generated an incredible positive externality for public health. More exposure to the world improved immune systems for individuals the world over – a point first made to me by Professor Gupta.

Then in an instant it was closed. International tourist arrivals are down by 85% from 2019. A third of the world’s borders are shut. There seems to be no movement in the direction of reversing this disaster and reinstituting the wonderful world of 2019. In fact, there seems to be very little awareness that this has happened to us much less of the terrible consequences. Forget the freedom of movement; the Biden administration has only promised to open up “when it is safe to do so.”

Why is there so little controversy about this and no real political pressure from anyone to do something about it other than a handful of business lobbyists? It’s like many other aspects of lockdowns. Both parties and ideologies are implicated in them. If everyone’s hands are dirty, there is no one available to clean up.

Sunetra Gupta is one person among billions who cannot come to the United States by virtue of having the wrong citizenship identity and passport. She is locked out, in the name of virus control. There should be outrage, and would be if the restrictions on travel did not compete with so many other policies worthy of outrage.

— Jeffrey A. Tucker is Founder and President of the Brownstone Institute and the author of many thousands of articles in the scholarly and popular press and ten books in 5 languages, most recently Liberty or Lockdown. He is also the editor of The Best of Mises. He speaks widely on topics of economics, technology, social philosophy, and culture. [email protected]

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starshineskyandthepowerofrock · 4 years ago

Text

Spa Day and Fro-Yo!!!

Part 19 of Starshine, Sky, and the Power of Rock.

There really is no logical reason why I couldn't have just said no to Princess Starshine's proposal, but something felt wrong about rejecting an all-expenses-paid spa trip. After all, I could use some de-stressing. And perhaps Skylar will be so distracted by the unfamiliar situation that she won't try to talk to me.

The chill of autumn in Glitterswirl Heights does not discourage the sun from shining bright, and so Skylar has donned a snapback hat and a pair of sunglasses that look borrowed straight from the princess's closet. I'm not sure they 100% go with the dragon pleather jacket in terms of seasonal appropriateness but at least she's dressed like a somewhat normal person for once.

Skylar adjusts the hat's brim and turns to Princess Starshine as we approach the spa. "You really think they'll let me in?"

"Doubt it," I say.

The princess flips her hair. "Oh, please. I'm Glitterswirl Spa's favorite customer. There's no way they'd turn you away."

"We'll see," Skylar responds, not nearly as sure.

Glitterswirl Spa is an impressive, three-story facility with the front of the building shaped like a delicate white lotus welcoming us into its petals. The princess and I walk through with ease but Skylar hangs back.

"I'll talk to them," the princess tells her. A unicorn woman smiles at us from behind the pure white front desk, a sparkling mini waterfall behind her adding a quiet splash to the gentle soundtrack. If it weren't for Skylar waiting to be let in, I'd feel totally at peace.

"Your Highness," the woman says, bowing her head of swirling lavender hair. "Welcome back. I'll have you checked in immediately."

"Actually," the princess says. "I'm here to check in a couple friends."

Did she just call me her friend?

"Oh!" the woman gasps, apparently just now noticing me. "Of course. And what's your name?"

"Gossamer Glade," I say.

The princess indicates behind her, where Skylar stands just behind the doorway. "My other friend is waiting to be invited in," she explains.

The woman laughs lightly, charmed by what she likely perceives as shyness and not a physical inability to enter. "Well, of course she's invited!"

"Sky," the princess beckons. "They let you in."

Skylar steps in, still tentative. She removes her glasses and shakes away her hat hair as she joins us at the desk. Her lips are pressed together abnormally tight, no doubt to hide the fangs behind them. Without those showing and without the trademark red eyes she would have if it weren't for her albinism, the visual differences between her and a sleep-deprived elf go unnoticed to an untrained eye. Still, I step to the side in an effort to make it clear I don't consider us close.

The woman blinks, trying to reconcile Skylar's disheveled hair and aging clothes with the immaculate princess to the right of her and the fashionably dressed elf girl to her left. "A-and you are?"

Skylar looks to the princess, who says "Her name is Skylar Acdalur."

"Sky... Sky- how do you spell that?"

"S-K-Y..." the princess begins knowingly, but then her smile leaves. "Um... L?" Skylar nods. "And then... it's an... E, right?"

Skylar shakes her head. "It's spelled with an A," she says before bringing her hand to her mouth, eyes wide.

It's too late. The woman already saw the fangs. Flustered, she says, "I-I'm very sorry, Your Highness, but I'm afraid it's against company policy to serve your friend here."

The princess's ears flatten against her head, brow furrowed in a strange combination of bafflement and indignation. "Excuse me?" she says.

Skylar puts a calming hand on the princess's arm. "Why's that?" she asks the lady, her expression pure steel.

The woman looks down at her computer as if there's something important there. "It's really not my decision to make, ma'am, but I have to ask you to leave."

"What is is about me that your company doesn't like?"

One of the woman's hands slips from her keyboard and under the table.

"Honey, I know you're not reaching for a panic button over this," the princess says.

Skylar's mask cracks for a moment to give the princess a confused look. "Panic button?"

"I'm given one whenever I have to meet people. I know the look when you're about to push it."

"Nice."

The woman stands up. "I really am sorry, Your Highness, but we can't admit a... a..."

"Vampire?" Skylar says.

The princess huffs. "Well, fine! Who needs you? I have spa memberships all over the kingdom! What's losing just one?" She turns on her heels and struts right out, Skylar and me close behind.

🥀🥀🥀

Well, that was officially the worst experience I've had this school year. And I was locked in deadly combat with a werewolf last month.

Staring at my shimmery white horse Blight with the palace just in the distance, I would give my other arm to call it a day right here and now, but explaining to my sisters that the reason I'm back early is because I couldn't get into the spa thanks to the vampire I was hanging out with sounds like a worse fate. They'd only let me go because they thought it would be just me and Princess Starshine, and that I could then share whatever juicy secrets she'd let spill with her guard down. But all I've found out so far is her apparent familiarity with panic buttons. Hardly slander material. At least, for a mind as uncreative as Summer's.

No, the reason we're back at Glitterswirl Stables is because Skylar felt she had to explain to her four-legged demon what happened and that there's no guarantee whether we'll head back earlier or later than the time we'd planned. Looking into the thing's blank eyes I know for certain it does not process a word of what she's saying.

"I know a great dairy-free fro-yo place with outdoor seating," the princess tells me as Skylar pushes her head between the stallion's eyes for the fifth time in their one-sided conversation. Maybe we can hit it up and you two can work out your differences over some low-fat sweetness."

"Does it involve an indoor topping bar?" I ask, eyes still on Skylar.

"It does! It has cookie dough and marshmallow fluff, and gummy be- Sky can't get in, can she?"

"It seems unlikely."

"W-well, we can still make it work," she says. "I'll make it work."

🥀🥀🥀

The princess's definition of making it work turns out to be Skylar waiting outside while she and I go in to get the yogurt. I had been wondering how a yogurt place could be dairy-free. According to the signs, it would seem the stuff is made with soy instead of milk. Interesting.

"I thought cat people loved milk," I tell her, dropping blueberries into my cup.

The princess does her best to juggle making her own cup and trying to deduce what Skylar would want on hers. "Ugh, no, I don't even know why people started saying that. Most of us are lactose intolerant." She dumps rainbow-colored gummy worms on her own and considers taking a second scoop. "Do you think Sky would like these?"

"I don't know," is all I say. I'm making my best effort not to do anything helpful towards the vampire, even if I do feel a little bad watching the princess struggle. She has to set down one cup in order to free her hand to put toppings on the other. The ritual is causing a line to form behind us. If it weren't for the fact that it's Her Royal Highness herself that's holding up the show I guarantee there would be complaints. Wary of the impatient tension, I sigh and say, "I think she'd like the sour ones."

At checkout, I'm hoping we'll be out in a matter of seconds, but the employees and patrons alike have other plans. Now that she's not busy making her yogurt cup anymore they're all emboldened to ask for pictures and autographs.

The last thing I need is ending up in a photo with Princess My-Friend's-A-Vampire so I tell her I'll take the cups out and wait for her. I look back one more time before I leave, wondering how long it'll take for word to make it across the kingdom that she's been hanging out with a monster. How many of the people giggling and declaring they'll never again wash their hand or whatever will wash themselves of her the moment they find out that extra yogurt cup is for a vampire? Would any of them be okay with it?

It doesn't matter, because I'm not.

I'm not.

My hands are getting cold from these yogurt cups, I'd better leave.

🥀🥀🥀

I bring the cups down on the glass outdoor table gently enough not to spill but loud enough to make clear the gesture wasn't done with benevolence. Then I turn my chair to face the street rather than Skylar, sit down, and bring my cup into my lap.

Skylar shifts in the edge of my field of vision. "Which one's mine?"

I take a bite of cold blueberry sweetness rather than answer. This place is good, I'll admit.

"Star's still in there? Signing stuff, I bet."

"Why do you call her that?" I ask.

"What, by her name? Isn't that what you're supposed to call people?"

"She's a princess. You're a commoner. Why do you call her that?"

"Seems less dumb than calling her 'Your Highness' for the next four years. I'm not making friends if I have to act like she's 'above me' the whole time."

"Then maybe you shouldn't make friends with a princess," I say. She's silent. Then she takes one of the cups. I turn and find she's taken the wrong one. "No, wait, that's hers!"

She stares at me, mouth a hard line and eyes indecipherable behind her sunglasses. "I wonder how we could've avoided that," she says flatly, taking the other cup. She inspects its contents like it's a new specimen, removing her glasses for a better look. "What's this?" she asks, lifting a single gummy worm.

"It's a gummy worm."

She chuckles. "You have candy that looks like bugs?"

"Worms aren't bugs, they don't have legs."

"You know what I mean." She pops it in her mouth and chews, thoughtful. "It's sour," she says.

"I thought you'd like it, since you seem to enjoy treats that cause you pain."

A smile quirks on her face. "You catch on quick," she says before eating a spoonful. Her eyes widen and she eats another. And another.

"The Isle of Isolation has s'mores but not frozen yogurt?" I can't help asking.

"I mean, we have yogurt," she says, mouth full. She swallows. "But not places like this."

"I see."

We eat in silence. Miles away from anyone that recognizes me, my curiosity is emboldened. "Why do you eat?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Why do you eat?"

"Sustenance, obviously. But you have blood for that, don't you? Or does blood merely keep you alive? Er- undead? Wha-"

"You're awful interested in vampires for someone that hates vampires," she says, excavating a marshmallow. "What would Daddy say?"

I huff. "You know, you are downright inflammatory. Is that your plan, vampire?"

"Everything's a plan with you. Is it 'cause I -- What did you say I do? -- I fake it, right? I'm faking it... I fake what?"

"Everything," I say, unsure how to follow that up. Love? Compassion? Feelings? They don't quite grasp it, I decide. "Personhood," I decide on. "You're all instinct, I just need to remind myself."

"Oh, I see," she says, voice drier than a desert and eyes squarely on her yogurt. "That's why you've been avoiding me, right? So I don't 'strike'. But then you keep talking to me for, what, the science? Make up your mind, do you hate me or not?"

"Why do you care?"

She takes another bite, suddenly having reservations about speaking while chewing. Even after she swallows she still doesn't answer right away. "Great question." Then she smiles, chuckles a bit. "That's a really great question." She props a foot on the third, unused chair and watches the horses and carriages and people of Glitterswirl Heights pass by, smile still there. After putting her glasses back on, she keeps eating.

I groan. "Why do you delight in being confusing on purpose?"

She doesn't respond.

"I asked you a question, Skylar!"

"I heard." She's still smiling. If people bothered to look, they'd notice her fangs and I'd be done for. So would she. But she's still smiling anyway.

"I'm suddenly reminded why I stopped talking to you."

"Sure, yeah, that's the reason," she says. "So, uh, why are we still talking?"

"Indeed," I say. We both silently people-watch, not that there's much to watch. A parent scolding a child for flicking her sister's unicorn horn. A couple fairies catching sight of Skylar's fangs and scurrying past. A couple groups of Academy students no longer fazed by her presence but concerned with my sitting with her. I try to hide my face when these ones pass.

It soon becomes clear that the public has caught word of Princess Starshine's location, and now a truly excessive amount of people are filing into the yogurt shop. I'm positively holding my yogurt cup up to my face at this point.

Skylar sets down her empty cup. "Looks like Star won't be done for a while."

I don't respond.

She sighs and stands up. "I'm gonna go find a trash can. Maybe have a look around," she says. Then she leaves.

🥀🥀🥀

I sit alone for quite a while. To the point that I note hints of orange mingling in the sky's blue. It's almost curfew. I consider heading back inside to tell Star about this. And perhaps I should go find Skylar, too. Who knows where she is, though. What could she possibly be doing that could...

Oh my goodness. There is a vampire loose in the town and I just let it happen. She's been gone for at least an hour. What is she doing? Something devious, no doubt. I could have been the Land of Light's last line of defense and I just let a monster slip under my defenses so-

I'm being ridiculous.

No I'm not.

Yes I am.

I'm just about ready to tear my hair out from the stress when the alarm sounds. I've been familiarized with the alarm through safety training in school my whole life, but hearing it blare through the streets, into my skull, is an experience enough to make my stomach collapse in on itself.

"Attention," the automated voice echoes through the streets of people scurrying to the nearest buildings and over panicked cries. "The Band of Darkness has been spotted near this area. Please enter the nearest building in a calm and orderly fashion. The Band of Light will be here shortly."

That same message plays over again after each wail of the alarm, but soon for me all sound turns to static. I'm at least able to stand up, but where do I go from here? I distantly recognize someone telling me to get inside-

"GOSSAMER!" the princess screams in my face. "We need to get inside, come on!" She looks side to side, that unflappable sass shattered and replaced with a frazzled mess. "Where's Sky? Where'd she go?"

"I, ah..."

She shakes me. "WHERE DID SHE GO, GOSSAMER?"

"I don't know, let go of me! You're right, we need to get insi-"

"I have to find her!" the princess says, already on the run.

"Y-Your Highness, wait!" I catch up with her and cut her off. "You can't run around like this now! We need to save ourselves-"

"We're NOT joining the Band of Light to save ourselves!" she cries, trying to get around me. "She can't get in buildings, you know that! She's out here somewhere- oh, what if they've- what if she's..." Her breath hitches, her eyes brimming with tears.

Oh no, she crying. "Uh..." I begin. "I'm... sure she's okay..."

She cries harder.

"She's smart, okay? A-and she's survived those guys twice already, right? We've survived them, too. We'll all be okay."

The princess heaves, trying to still her shudders. "O-okay... okay... okay..." She fans her face. She looks me in the eyes. She hugs me.

I stiffen, unsure what one is supposed to do when royalty cries on your shoulder. I suppose if she's breaking all rules of propriety then I can, too. I pat her head. "We'll all be okay, Your Highness."

She sniffles. "Please, just call me Star," she whispers.

I nod a bit. "We'll all be okay, Star."

Star removes herself from me, giggling despite herself. "You know, you're way nicer than your sisters."

I giggle back. "Why, thank you. Now, since Skylar likely couldn't hide in a building I think it's a safe guess to check our horses. She'd probably try fleeing to the palace, I'd imagine."

Star nods and wipes away tears. "You're right, let's hurry."

We run through the deserted streets together, praying to whoever's listening that the Band of Darkness won't find us. I keep my eyes glued ahead and try desperately not to dwell on the feeling that they're watching us from all around. Biding their time. Maybe they have Skylar already...

Ahead, ahead, focus ahead! Skylar will be fine, just like I said. Why do I even care about whether she gets hurt? Because Star cares? Or...

Star stops dead in her tracks, so abruptly I skid to a stop a few steps ahead and turn to look at her. Her ears are twitching, swiveling around.

"What do you hear?" I ask.

"No, no, no..."

"Star, what do you hear?"

But then I see them, way off in the distance behind her. Two girls, in black and pink uniform, atop black horses.

I grab Star's hand and run, breaking past all logical thought telling me we can't outrun horses. Of course, the sound of clopping hooves gets closer and closer until the two monsters have not only caught up to us but cut us off. Now I see their circlets and realize they're not just monsters, they're monster royalty. Which means not only am I face-to-face with members of the Band of Darkness, I'm face-to-face with the Heir to Darkness!

"My my, Faylen," Princess Persephone says. "Isn't this a treat?"

"A lucky break, is what this is" Princess Faylen says. "Both of the brats that saved that stupid traitor right here? We have to tell Boris."

Princess Persephone's blood red eyes take on a glimmer that I don't appreciate. "Oh, why can't we just-"

"You know why we can't do that!"

"But it would be so easy!"

As the two bicker, I silently curse myself for not bringing my Soul Player with me. I'm positive Star is thinking the same thing, even if all her wide eyes convey is pure panic.

"What're you two going on about now?" a man's voice fades in. Star and I turn around to the worst sight we've seen all day:

That werewolf again, holding a limp Skylar in his arms.

#elf oc #vampire oc #catgirl oc #princess oc #oc writing #original fiction #Fantasy Story #gossamer glade #skylar acdalur #princess starshine

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