#there is still going to be a Catholic Church and a pope when he’s gone

[natequarter]

HALF-FACE MAN: I will not die. I will reach the promised land. DOCTOR: There isn't any promised land. This is just— It's a superstition that you have picked up from all the humanity you've stuffed inside yourself. HALF-FACE MAN: I am not dead.

DOCTOR: Perhaps they haven't let you in on the secret, Login. Shall I tell him, gentlemen?  GARIF: Secret?  DOCTOR: Yes! And the fraud of perpetual movement. The endless tasks going round and round. The same old components being removed and replaced.  LOGIN: No, Doctor, that's too harsh. The preparations are necessary.  DOCTOR: Preparations? For what? This Starliner isn't going anywhere.

DOCTOR: I am alone. The world which shook at my feet, and the trees and the sky, have gone. And I am alone now. Alone. CLARA: Are you translating? DOCTOR: The wind bites now, and the world is grey, and I am alone here. Can't see me. Doesn't see me. Can't see me. CLARA: Who can't see it? I think all of London can see it.

WILF: Yeah, but I thought, when I saw you before, you said your people could change, like, your whole body.  DOCTOR: I can still die. If I'm killed before regeneration, then I'm dead. Even then, even if I change, it feels like dying. Everything I am dies. Some new man goes sauntering away, and I'm dead. 

ANDRED: I didn't know you were cursed just as we are. LEELA: Cursed? ANDRED: With living long enough to experience the consequences of our own actions, down through the centuries.

NEFRED: You accuse us of wilful procrastination?  DOCTOR: Yes! The wilful procrastination of endless procedure. You want to hold onto the old order.  NEFRED: You understand a great deal, Doctor.  DOCTOR: True.  NEFRED: But not everything.  DOCTOR: That's certainly true.

TORVALD: Your continuity, Madam. A circle of misery that never, ever ends.

DOCTOR: Lethbridge-Stewart? My dear fellow, how nice to see you again.  MUNRO: He knows you, sir.  BRIGADIER: But he can't do. Look here. Can you hear me? Who are you?  DOCTOR: Don't you recognise me?  BRIGADIER: I'm positive we've never met before.  DOCTOR: Oh, dear. Oh, I can't have changed that much, surely? 

LEELA: You pretend to be one thing when you are really another, you have lived your life behind a mask for so long that now that mask is your own face.

LEELA: My one heart knows the truth. You have two hearts just as you have two faces, and neither speaks the truth. ANDRED: I didn't set out to betray you, Leela. I was confused after the regeneration. You know what it's— No. No, you don't know what it's like. How could you?

DOCTOR: How long can I keep doing this, Clara? Burning the old me, to make a new one?

DOCTOR: Can't I ever have peace? Can't I rest?  BILL: Of course you can.  NARDOLE: It's your choice.  BILL: Only yours.  NARDOLE: We understand.  DOCTOR: No. No, you don't. You're not even really here. You're just memories held in glass. Do you know how many of you I could fill? I would shatter you. My testimony would shatter all of you. A life this long, do you understand what it is? It's a battlefield, like this one, and it's empty. Because everyone else has fallen.

LIZ: Do you know him?  BRIGADIER: What? No, I thought I might do, but he's a complete stranger. I've never seen him before in my life.

CARDINAL: Pope Benedict said that you were more in need of confession than any man breathing. But when the offer was made, you replied it would take too much time. On behalf of the Catholic Church, the offer stands. You seem like a man with regret on his mind.

DOCTOR: You are a broom. Question. You take a broom, you replace the handle, and then later you replace the brush, and you do that over and over again. Is it still the same broom? Answer? No, of course it isn't. But you can still sweep the floor. Which is not strictly relevant, skip that last part. You have replaced every piece of yourself, mechanical and organic, time and time again. There's not a trace of the original you left. You probably can't even remember where you got that face from.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

So its 2am and I’m still on my ‘911 is using The Wizard of Oz theming to tell Eddie’s story’ soapbox and thought I’d talk about something I didn’t go into in my other 911/Wizard of oz post - the fact that Oz, the Emerald City, the wicked witch of the west and the Wizard are all an allegory for the Catholic Church and Christian faith more widely!

I’ve made quite a few posts about 911 playing into religious iconography and so I thought I’d add to that post count by talking about the (anti) religious theming in The Wizard of Oz more generally and how it relates to Eddie’s arc!

The Emerald city is designed to look like a Cathedral

The way the wizard of oz - both the books and the film, plays on religious imagery is similar to the way that C.S Lewis played on it in his Chronicles of Narnia series - but where C.S Lewis created a positive allegory that upheld religion and religious beliefs, Frank Baum was creating a more negative allegory- where religion does't provide the answers, but the individual person

Dorothy starts her journey in Kansas - in the real world, but finds herself in the technicolour world of Oz after a tornado transports her over the rainbow. The film, especially, plays on the idea of her having a head injury - causing her to have this vivid dream of this fantastical land - which is why we see the people of Kansas appear as characters in Oz.

Oz is clearly playing on the idea of heaven and hell and limbo. The wicked witch of the west represents the devil (lucifer) and her castle Hell. While the Emerald city represents the house of God (the church). Glinda is supposed to be an arch angel. Remember that lucifer is a fallen arch angel.

The wizard is a man from the same world as Dorothy and is meant to be viewed as a priest (most likely the pope) - priests being Gods representatives on earth

While the silver (book) or ruby (film) slippers are a representation of enlightenment.

Dorothy is searching for a way out of her ‘coma’ dream and so goes on a journey through Limbo to the house of god to try and get home- along the way the devil tries to stop her getting to the church and subsequently into heaven using the tricks at its disposal. The devil doesn’t succeed and Dorothy and her friends navigate their way to the emerald city and complete the tasks they think god has set for them so they may gain what they seek - to go home, brains, a heart, courage.

It is here that they discover the lies of the priest and once he is gone they all figure out they had what they sought all along - they are enlightened and didn’t actually need the priest or the house of god at all. From there Dorothy chooses to go home and awakes from her coma back in the real world - but retains the knowledge of what she dreamt in her coma.

The wizard of oz as a piece of media (in either book form or film form) is showing the audience that they hold their own power within them and it cannot be granted by outside forces.

The film chooses to show Oz the great and powerful in much the same way as the crucifix is displayed in a catholic church - praying to a false idol in search of what you seek

The wizard hiding behind his curtain is akin to the priest behind the confessional screen - offering absolution and healing etc, when he doesn’t actually possess the power to do so because he is just a man pedalling falsehoods and lies.

The residents of the emerald city in their monochromatic green colouring are an allegory for the members of the churches congregation - blindly following the edits and rules set out by the church in the hope of a happy and fulfilled life - but they are shown to be almost drone like - subjugated and controlled into mindless devotion in the same way people follow the churches teachings without questioning.

Dorothy and here friends never change though - they don’t start wearing green and blending in to the emerald city and they find out that they actually have the power to achieve their desires within them the entire time - as represented by the silver/ruby slippers.

the moral of the Wzard of Oz is ultimately that what we desire or want is within and it cannot be found externally by putting our faith in something outside of us like the church. - Dorothy and her friends always had the things they sought - they just had to figure that out for themselves.

This ties into Eddies entire journey perfectly.

Just because I couldn't write a post about Eddie and not have a picture of him!

Eddies Kansas pre the tornado is his childhood - before he was parentified/husbandified by Helena Diaz.

The tornado is Shannon - she provides him with the escape from his old life and sets him down in California (Oz).

There is a reason the Wizard of Oz theming is heavily coded toward him and his arrival on the show - it is the idea that he has landed in California (Oz) and on top of the wicked witch of the East (hence why we never see Eddie at the same level as the red shoes in the rubble) and has been following the yellow brick road the entire time.

Chris is waiting for Eddie on a yellow strip of flooring at the end of 203

Bobby (Glinda) who shares the catholic faith with Eddie, brings him to the 118 and helps guide him forward on his journey - providing advice and support as and when Eddie needs it, but always watching over him. (one could view Eddie leaving the 118 as the equivalent of the poppy field in the film - leaving his path briefly before returning to it when he wakes up in mayday 'god has spoken')

He has now reached the crux of matters - he has arrived at the Emerald city. It seems likely here that in 804 we will see him have his encounter with the Priest who like the wizard in Oz, will guide him towards a reckoning with his mother (the wicked witch of the west) in order to find his way to inner peace and who he is supposed to be. Once he has dealt with Helena he will discover that he won't find what he seeks in the church - but it will have provided him with something important that plays into the idea that he is a combination of all four characters who journey along the yellow brick road, as their individual traits all represent a part of himself Eddie needs to embrace in order to break free of the chains that have held him back his whole life.

The knowledge (scarecrow) of who he truly is that will also make him realise he already has what his heart (tin man) truly wants if he has the courage (lion) to go for it and that it will get him home (Dorothy) where he truly belongs - accepting himself as a queer man who is in love with his best friend and Chris's forgiveness and return to him in LA.

[sharpth1ng]

Since the photo of the pope on Stu’s fridge has been discovered I’ve seen a lot of takes about how Stu would definitely have religious guilt and would have more issues with his feelings for Billy. I want to be clear I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that take, it’s definitely something to explore if it interests you but it also flattens the breadth of responses to a religious upbringing and religious trauma. There are so many ways a person might respond to that kind of experience and it doesn’t just stop with internalized guilt.

What about the people who just kind of never fall in line? They’re punished for it over and over but it doesn’t make the religion make sense to them. And maybe they learn over time hide their disbelief, they learn to be quiet at church and hide their same sex partners but the moment they’re 18 they are gone.

What about the people who believed when they were young and have had an experience to change that? Maybe they saw religion used to justify the mistreatment of a sibling or a friend, and they thought “if there is a god, they wouldn’t think this is right”.

What about the ones that swing hard in the opposite direction? The ones so angry with the beliefs instilled in them that they do almost anything they can to enrage their religious family? They may not even be doing this intentionally, but teenage rebellion is teenage rebellion, and if your family is catholic then Catholicism might be what you rebel against. What better way to rebel against the anti gay religion than to kiss another boy? Do you know how many queer pagans and Satanists I know who have a history of religious trauma?

Have you ever felt so mistreated by someone or something, so deeply wronged, that almost anything they disapprove of becomes enticing? I definitely have.

And here’s the thing with Stu, he might have a religious family but he sure does talk about sex a lot. Unabashedly too. He spends the night at his girlfriends house, and she confirms that they have sex. He fills his house with people, feeds them booze, and kills a bunch of them. This isn’t giving me the picture of a fearful catholic son.

Before I saw the pope picture I had already been writing Stu’s family as conservative and religious. He definitely grew up with the idea that sex is a sin and gay sex is even worse. But he’s not a guy that likes authority. He likes sensory pleasure and chaos, and at least some of that is a rejection of his upbringing. Dude watches slasher movies and raunchy comedies like clerks. He fucks and he talks openly about it. He gets drunk and he directs his best friend to go take his girlfriends virginity in his parents bed.

He’s rebelling.

To me? Yeah he might have been the kind of kid who had religious fears and guilts when he was younger. He’s definitely been baptized and his family probably still makes him go to church sometimes. But he’s not isolated. It’s the mid 90s and he has access to more media than kids did ever before. He’s had access to alternative view points, narratives that contradict the ones instilled in him when he was young.

And the 90s are a time characterized by a loud rejection of convention. Grunge rocker Kurt Cobain wears dresses, the riot grrl movement is in full swing, and people are getting really into modern forms of paganism. It’s popular to reject your parents beliefs.

There’s an interview with Neve Campbell where she talks about how she thinks Billy and Stu were partly motivated by the rage of being unable to be themselves in Woodsboro and I think that works really well here. What better what to say a fuck you to your religious parents than to have buttsex with a pretty dude and kill a bunch of people?

Again, this is just the way I see the character. There’s nothing wrong with different interpretations and fandom would be boring if we all saw these characters in the exact same way. But yeah just an alternative way to look at it.

[eli-kittim]

Modern Christianity is a Joke

Eli Kittim

On their podcasts and platforms, Christians are constantly talking about God, Christ, and the Bible, explaining the gospel, debating about theology and prophecy, while assuming to know what scripture teaches, right down to the last detail. And yet none of them know what they’re talking about or what’s really going on (Rom. 3:11). Yet they all have millions of followers flocking to their social media platforms to hear them speak, and they’re deceiving all of them (intentionally or unintentionally) with lies and misinformation. But this has already been prophesied. In fact, Matthew 24 and 1 Timothy 4:1 clearly state that the end-times will be characterized by global deception, as many false prophets and teachers will arise and mislead many. Paul himself knew that after his departure Christianity would eventually decline and become a church of heretics (Acts 20:29). All that has happened. Most teachings today are about the Nephilim, aliens, and ancient civilizations.

All the biblical doctrines that are being taught today——whether at the university, the seminary, or in social media platforms——are false. Why? Because they have nothing to do with the Holy Spirit. None of these so-called pundits have received any revelations from God in the manner that Paul describes (see Gal. 1:11-12). To preach things based on personal guesswork or mere speculation is not the same as teaching according to the Holy Spirit. John 14:26 says that “the Holy Spirit … will teach you all things.”

It’s gotten so bad that even the Pope is now teaching that it’s a dangerous heresy to have a personal relationship with Jesus outside the church. A Facebook friend of mine——a Christian apologist by the name of Marcia Montenegro——has gone so far as to condemn any attempt to open your mind and spirit to God through the prayer of stillness (which btw is still used in both the Catholic and Orthodox Churches), denouncing it as a so-called satanic practice that opens your spirit to demonic influences, even though that is precisely what the Bible requires in order for rebirth and salvation to take place. How else can God transform your carnal nature unless he recreates your identity? (Eph. 4:22-24). How can God live within you and create a new operating system unless the old one is deleted? How else can you receive the Holy Spirit, who changes your personality, turning a sinner to a saint, as it did with Paul? Romans 8:9 says categorically and unequivocally:

“if anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ,

they do not belong to Christ.”

Then there are the nominal Christians. These are Christians in name only. They pretend to be Christ-like but act like demons. I know a few well-known Christian writers and bible prophecy teachers who have privately sent me viruses because I criticized their views. People would be surprised to know that Richard H. Perry did such a thing when i criticized his view that George Bush represents the white horseman of Revelation. I obviously had to block him. Another famous lawyer turned author by the name of Mark L. Hitchcock took me by surprise when he reported me to YouTube, which resulted in google permanently shutting down my platform. And he did this just because I complained that his YouTube channel was deleting all my comments and articles. As a result, I ended up losing all my videos and all my content that had been running on the web for the past 12 years. I was aghast that someone of his stature would resort to this. That was so mean. It completely took me by surprise. I didn’t see that one coming. This type of spitefulness is uncharacteristic of Christian believers. Their fruits bear no love. I seriously doubt whether such a person is in-dwelt by the Holy Spirit. Needless to say, I have lost all respect for him. I obviously blocked him, too. Good riddance!

Christianity has gotten so bad that Christian pastors are preying on crippled children, promising to heal them if they sow a financial seed to the ministry. People like Kenneth Copeland, Benny Hinn, and more recently, Kathryn Krick, all falsely claim to heal people suffering of serious disorders. Then you have YouTubers who are openly deceiving people, claiming that God speaks to them. Troy Black is a case in point. He has half a million victims, I mean subscribers, who are being lied to on a daily basis.

Not to mention the multiple scandals involving priests and pastors who are texting pornographic materials to their congregants and have inappropriate relations with them. Some pastors are even teaching that you don’t even need to believe in Jesus in order to be saved, while others, like Steven Anderson, are claiming that you don’t need to stop sinning, but only to believe in Jesus. Some Christian writers are teaching that you don’t even need God or Jesus, and you certainly don’t need to hear from them or even experience them personally. All you need is to read the Bible. There are some well-known pastors, like Justin Peters, who teach this doctrine. Not to mention those scholars, like David Bentley Hart, who claim that all people will eventually be saved, whether they believe in Jesus or not. But how exactly are we saved? Does anyone know? A well-known pastor, named Ken Raggio, recently posted on Instagram that “God changes us from sinner to saint … by … divine discipline. As we OBEY the Word.” This is totally and completely wrong! We cannot save our selves by ourselves. That’s why we need a savior. Jesus criticized the Pharisees for washing their hands but not cleansing their heart, showing that their legalism and discipline was totally ineffective in changing them from within. That’s why he said to Nicodemus the Pharisee: you must be “born again” (Jn 3:3). Only God can recreate us (2 Cor. 5:17). We are not saved by works or through personal efforts and behaviors.

And the core doctrines of modern Christianity are all wrong. The modern Christian faith centers on certain core beliefs regarding the historical birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. But these events haven’t happened yet. According to the Bible, they will take place in the endtimes (see Isa. 2:19; Dan. 12:1-2; Zeph. 1:7; Lk 17:30; Acts 3:19:21; 1 Cor. 15:22-24; Gal. 4:4; Eph. 1:9-10; Heb. 1:1-2; 9:26b; 1 Pet. 1:10-11; 1:20; Rev 12:5; 19:10d). My chief objection is that the TIMING of these events is totally wrong. This is all based on a misunderstanding of Greek and a misreading of genre.

The internal evidence supports my view. It’s in both the Old and New Testaments! Zephaniah 1:7 declares that the Lord’s sacrifice will occur during “the day of the Lord” (not in antiquity). Isaiah 2:19 says that people will hide in caves when “the Lord … arises to terrify the earth.” Similarly, Daniel 12:1 puts the resurrection of the anointed prince just prior to the great tribulation. I can prove it with detailed exegesis from the Greek text. The LXX (Dan 12:1) says παρελεύσεται, which means to “pass away,” & the Theodotion has ἀναστήσεται, meaning a bodily resurrection in the end-times. In the following verse (12:2), the plural form of the exact same word (ἀναστήσονται) is used to describe the general resurrection of the dead! In other words, if the exact same word means resurrection in Daniel 12:2, then it must also necessarily mean resurrection in Daniel 12:1! Acts 3:20-21 similarly says that Christ will not be sent to earth until the consummation of the ages. First Corinthians 15:22-24 also tells us that Christ will be the first to be resurrected in the end-times! Revelation 12:5 tells us that the messiah is born in the end times, and the next verse talks about the great tribulation. Galatians 4:4 says that Jesus will be born during the consummation of the ages, expressed by the apocalyptic phrase τὸ πλήρωμα τοῦ χρόνου, which is defined in Ephesians 1:10 as the end of the world! First Peter 1:20 says that although Christ was foreknown before the creation of the world, he was initially revealed “at the final point of time.” It’s supported by Hebrews 1:2 which says that Jesus speaks to mankind in the “last days,” not in antiquity. And Hebrews 9:26 says EXPLICITLY that Jesus will die for the sins of mankind “once in the end of the world” (ἐπὶ συντελείᾳ τῶν αἰώνων)! Revelation 19:10 also informs us that the TESTIMONY to Jesus is prophetic (not historical). Read Acts 10:40-41 where we are told that Jesus’ resurrection was based on visions because it was only visible “to witnesses who were chosen beforehand by God.” Similarly, 1 Peter 1:10-11 says that the New Testament prophets “predicted the sufferings of the Messiah” in advance (cf. Isa 46:10).

This short video will clarify everything I’ve said so far:

A Biblical Greek translation of the New Testament that changes everything we thought we knew about Jesus

[veale2006-blog]

THE POPE'S SEISMIC END-TIME APOSTASY Friday, March 1, 2024

Shalom, to you my Friend and Co-Minister in the Great Commission… It began as the last year was drawing to its end. It has only begun. Its repercussions will be seismic. After nearly 2000 years of declaring homosexuality, lesbianism, and alternate sexuality a grave sin, as does the Bible, the Catholic Church, under the Pope's leadership declared that it would now give its blessings to those involved in all of the above. Two years earlier, the Vatican's office of Doctrine had issued a statement on the matter saying, "God cannot bless sin." But the Pope overturned it. This was massive - not just for Catholics, but for the world. The Catholic Church has long been intertwined with western civilization, and was central in laying down it's moral foundations. Even our present calendar was determined by the Vatican. For the Catholic Church to now bless what God clearly calls sin, which Catholic doctrine up to this point has called, intrinsically disordered, contrary to natural law, and grave depravity is colossal. What is it? In one word: Apostasy. The Bible foretells that in the last days there will be a great apostasy. The word apostasy means to fall away from one's stand, or, in its Biblical usage to fall away from faith. What prompted the Pope to do something that would have, just the other day, have been unimaginable? He was simply following the course of an apostate civilization. It is the same exact process, transformation, and fall that happened to other organizations that once stood against this sin and then succumbed to it - from the Democratic Party, to Hollywood, to the corporate world, to the Boy Scouts, to the American legal system, and on and on. But that it has now happened, and is happening to the Catholic Church is a big deal. Unless what the Pope did is reversed, it will not stay a simple blessing of same-sex couples, but the day will come when you will see something that most never thought they would see - the Catholic Church performing homosexual and lesbian marriages and declaring them holy, and displaying the rainbow flag more prominently than the cross. The Pope opened up the floodgates. Expect a flood. This will also accelerate the fall and apostasy of Western civilization. For if the one who was supposed to be applying the brakes on that fall has now declared that, that fall is to be blessed - all bets are off. The Bible says that the end-times will be characterized by apostasy and the increase of immorality. It even implies the apostasy of the (so called) church. That day has come. And the good news is God said it before it happened. He is still on the throne. And in the growing darkness, the lights of God will shine all the more brightly and will light up their world. This month, you be that one! Shine against the darkness and light up your world. And may God greatly bless you as you do!

Your sister and co-laborer in His love and service, Debbie

2 Thessalonians 2:3 3 Let no man deceive you by any means: for that day shall not come, except there come a falling away first, and that man of sin be revealed, the son of perdition; The Anarchist Now, friends, read these next words carefully. Slow down and don’t go jumping to conclusions regarding the day when our Master, Jesus Christ, will come back and we assemble to welcome him. Don’t let anyone shake you up or get you excited over some breathless report or rumored letter from me that the day of the Master’s arrival has come and gone. Don’t fall for any line like that.

Before that day comes, a couple of things have to happen. First, the Apostasy. Second, the debut of the Anarchist, a partner in crime with Satan. He’ll defy and then take over every so-called god or altar. Having cleared away the opposition, he’ll then set himself up in God’s Temple as “God Almighty.” Don’t you remember me going over all this in detail when I was with you? Are your memories that short?

HAVE A BLESSED DAY AND WEEKEND!!

[beloveddawn-blog]

Yeah, absolutely none of those beliefs you say there came across in the first post. Which is probably why people struck back: They took it as an attack. But you're young, and people DO deserve chances to grow and learn. And here you have a perfect chance to practice 1) reading the room and 2) examining what you have to say from an outside perspective.

I'm not going to get into it with religion in general with you. I'm agnostic myself and that's not how I'd like to spend my day. I will touch on religious trauma, though, because you probably do see it around and just don't recognize it. Specifically, I'm going to talk about my Mom's.

Mom is Roman Catholic. Always has been and still considers herself to be, even though she's more properly considered a 'lapsed Catholic'. She was a STEM-loving female student at a ridiculously backwards Catholic school in the 70s. Despite going to (and participating in!) Church, donating her time and money where she could, and doing her best to be kind and compassionate to her fellow humans, she was told REPEATEDLY that she was devil-spawn and going to hell. For existing. For thinking. For having an opinion. For not blindly following people who were both physically and sexually abusive to the students. My Dad was shocked to find out a coworker of his who had gone to Mom's school had been sexually abused by her father for over a decade and even more shocked when Mom told him blandly that the whole school knew, and she wasn't the only one. But the man in question was a very influencial member of the church, and threats of eternal damnation were used to silence all who opposed him. With the Church's blessing. She escaped with her spirit intact due to the fact that her Dad's PTSD reaction to growing up during the occupation of Holland was to be so fucking sneaky about it while always, always questioning the narrative of those in power over him.

When he died my Oma had her second major mental breakdown. Not only does that side of the family have a history of mental illness, but she was also dealing with PTSD from the Nazis and really fucking bad PPD and PPP. And probably a shit tonne of internalized homophobia, because her psychiatrist felt she was likely a closeted lesbian. None of that was fixed in the five years Oma spent institutionalized, but she was stable enough to go home to her person, my Opa.

And what did the Church do while this family was in need? They judged. They judged and they whispered and they excluded, despite the fact that Jesus specificially spoke out AGAINST all of those behaviours. So when it happened again, when Oma felt to peices at the sudden death of her husband (heart attack. He was only 56) they told Mom she deserved this. To have to deal with it. She literally was a goes-to-Church-every-week housewife with two under threes, and they all told her, to her face, that they wouldn't help because it was her fault her mother was this way. God was punishing her for daring to have an opinion and for liking science.

So she said, "Fuck the lot of you!" And hasn't been back to Church since. She goes for people's events, and she went with Dad and I when he really wanted to go to the Christmas service at the Glasgow Cathedral. But she doesn't go herself, and and she will never be associated with another Catholic Church again.

To quote her, "My relationship with God is great. We get along very well and understand each other perfectly. Me and the Pope, on the other hand, not so much."

But despite that, she still often thinks she's going to go to Hell. She thinks she's beyond redemption, because she was told she was for so long. She's beloved of her friends and family, the champion of every underdog she's ever met, unwavering in the face of politics, greed, and corruption, reliable, hardworking, and devoted... But that pain still lingers. And it will linger until she dies.

Consider that, and consider this with it: This is a person who did everything right. She is, on paper, everything a Proper Christian Woman should be. She's straight, married young (to her only boyfriend ever), raised a family, and never questioned God or thought he deserted her, even when the Church did. Consider it in context of those that don't, or can't, meet all of those arbitrary requirements. How much harder, do you think, could it be for them? How much weight that they don't deserve are people carrying, because Christianity overwhelmingly uses the proverbial stick to keep the congregation compliant? How much hate has been spread (even to those in the thick of it!) under the guise of heavenly love?

And, more immediately, how deeply do you think that hate has touched people here, on a website openly known for its high proportion of LGBT+ people?

You seem actually confused by this, so I'm gonna spell it out for you:

You're receiving sudden anon hate for actively supporting a genocide. No amount of quoting a religion famous for traumatizing its own people nearly as much as it does outsiders is going to get you any support for that. Not here. Not on a corner of the internet where most people have trauma related to Christian ideals.

Don't get me wrong, people that live by the heart and the spirit of Christianity are some of the best I've ever known. But those who live by the word of it can be some of the worst.

Ah, that's fair

Sorryyyyy

People who live by anything can be awful, and some people can be more awful than others in different circumstances, but everyone deserves a chance to be supported no matter who they are

I don't quite know how religious trauma works fully, but I pity anyone who's gone through it and I hope you can be okay with my beliefs as I'm okay with yours!

I don't think my religion is meant to traumatize anyone, some people just dilude it and make excuses, as you can with everything if you try hard enough.

Everything can be twisted for evil, and everything can be twisted for good. So, all of you who disagree with me, I'm sorry.

I hope we can still co-exist near one another peacefully. But it we can't, that's okay.

I'm sure God wouldn't be happy with what his people are doing, but every country has done horrible things, and they deserve a chance to stop.

They killed Jesus and he forgave them, so I'm willing to give mercy because it's not my job to judge

[jerardeusebio]

Birth Day

I suppose it was understandable when I was seven, maybe forgivable when I was a self-involved cliché of a teen. But at 32, I’ve come to find—through the help of stoicism—that being entitled to a day is a delusion worth shattering. I had to learn first hand, on my 26th birthday, that the world doesn’t owe me anything just because it’s my birthday.

This whole story took place on January 18, 2015, the first birthday I was to spend with Dylan. Earlier on, it had been destined to be an unforgettable day, made extra special by Pope Francis’ visit to the Philippines, which the two of us, despite our considerable reservations about the Catholic Church, decided to take part in. The Pope was scheduled to tour Manila and later hold Mass at the Quirino Grandstand. The date fell on a Sunday. 

I had been so determined to make a day of it, that I even convinced my family, who’d be coming from Los Baños, to join me and Dylan. I proposed we grab dinner when it was all over. In the end, we all agreed that this was to be my birthday celebration.

From our F. B. Harrison apartment, Dylan and I braved the streets of Manila to catch a glimpse of the progressive Pope. We left once I got a text from my family that they were on their way. Soon enough it became clear that reaching the venue would be a challenge. It was hard enough we had to do it on foot, but of course we had to deal with the crowd. Prior to that day, I had only seen such large gatherings on television. We had the most grueling time getting through the dense throng, squeezing past countless elbows and knees, breathing each other’s air (possibly a death wish in today’s context), trying to outsmart everyone in finding the perfect spot in which to encounter the Pope, who was at this point still going around, peripatetic in his mobile. And the rain, oh, the rain didn’t help either. These were to be the most disgustingly profound hours of my life.

There were at least two reasons why my family—Pa, Ma, Marky, and Thea—weren’t able to join me and Dylan that day. For one, the crowds intimidated them. From a distance, it was just a sea of people on the streets. The view was even more overwhelming when seen from the LRT station. My family despised crowds, but I had hoped they’d make an exception for the Pope! And yes, because it’s my birthday, for me. Another reason, and perhaps what contributed the most to my disappointment, was that communication lines were jammed. Literally, the City of Manila had cut off phone reception as a safety measure. Because of this, my family had no way to contact me or Dylan, no way to find out where we were exactly, no way to be advised that they needed raincoats because umbrellas were not allowed, and no way to inform me that they had changed their minds about the whole day.

It was only when Dylan and I were out of the rain and sitting at our nice table in Makan Makan, Manila Ocean Park that I’d learn about my family getting as far as Quirino Avenue before deciding to retreat. They were also not going to share a meal with us at this nice restaurant because they were, in fact, already back home. I was stunned. Little did I know that when Dylan and I were singing Our Father with the mighty congregation, my family was watching the whole thing on our TV, roofed and dry.

I felt the flush of disappointment spread through me as my mother explained herself on the other line. Though she sounded equally disappointed at how things went, when she greeted me a happy birthday, I could only focus on how it all felt sucky. I remember feeling my feet, stinky and wrinkled in my rain-soaked socks. Dylan and I would’ve gone back to our apartment except we were starving and Manila Ocean Park was just right where we ended our rainy pilgrimage. Once I told him my family wasn’t coming, he ordered pad thai and laksa for just us two.

I put the phone down, frowned, and began to express my sentiments. Looking at Manila Bay through the glass walls, I articulated how disappointed I was, how I felt that my family didn’t really try, that they seem to have missed the point of the day—my birthday—and therefore didn’t try harder to come to me, to celebrate me. I must have gone in circles, as I tend to do when I act up. And I must’ve sounded exceedingly annoying, too, because the way Dylan castigated me right there, as soon as I finished saying my piece, even as the waiter meekly placed a large bowl of steaming laksa between us, was so intense and so surprising that it took me a few moments to realize that he was actually angry. 

We’ve only been together six months at this point, and seeing him defend my family and—in the same breath—point out my entitlement was a strange sight and a debilitating experience to sit through. Caught off guard, I let my intangible ego take a beating and my tangible body, wet and worn out, release the tears. Once it started, it was hard to stop. I cried as I shakily brought a spoonful of soup to my mouth. I cried as I curled the noodles with my fork. I cried as I sipped water from my glass. I spat a few futile rebuttals. And when those were debunked, I concentrated back on my feelings. I never thought anyone could be chastised in this manner on their birthday, after seeing the Pope in the flesh, and after successfully squeezing through a throng of Filipino Catholics—all through a cold and steady January downpour. 

Over the next few years, I would go back to that day and remember how I felt. But I also would mostly review my speech and behavior. I tried to look at the whole day from a stranger’s perspective, a mental exercise which has enabled me to question the way I’ve been taught about birthdays, and wonder where I could’ve picked up that sense of entitlement. Where had I learned to make other people sacrifice their comfort and do things they weren’t really up to just for me, because it was “my day”? Come to think of it, most birthday parties and weddings demand something from their guests—from wearing tacky, expensive, and uncomfortable clothes to requesting cold, hard cash as presents. So many of what we unquestioningly design and do breed such dangerous entitlement. Why had I felt that that was acceptable behavior? 

In my internalized disappointment, I had forgotten all the other things that were beautiful about that day. I focused on what didn’t happen instead of what actually did, on what the circumstances should have offered me instead of what it so generously did, which were nothing short of magical: seeing Pope Francis (the Vicar of Christ!) up close, the electrifying singing and chanting, and the romantic dinner overlooking Manila Bay, paid for by Dylan’s credit card. I had focused on what I thought I deserved and should’ve gotten, insisting that I was entitled to them, no matter what the cost. And each time I revisited what transpired that day, I’d be more and more convinced that, though Dylan was harsh, he was also right.

Dylan would apologize a couple of years later, about the way he did what he did. This, after I expressed to him how that day scarred me. I accepted his apology, but quickly explained how it was, in retrospect, a good and necessary thing. I had needed shaking and, more than anything, someone who’d exorcise the brat out of me. It’s clear to me now that the only way I would’ve listened to reason was to have been dressed down, wet and hungry, on the day I had deemed for so long was mine.

Today, I have a completely new philosophy for and way of celebrating January 18th. Since 2016, I’ve deliberately associated my birthday with my mother, who really did most of the heavy lifting. I vowed that celebrating my birth should mean celebrating her and all the things she went through to bring me into this world. What I now do—which is what I did this year—is wait for 2:01 PM to strike (the exact time I was born), and spend the entire minute holding my mother in a tight embrace, thanking her for the life and nourishment she unselfishly gave, for choosing to carry me for as long as she did.

As for Dylan and I, well, we’ve since gone back to Makan Makan every year. We grew to highly regard their laksa, which we’d always order and consume to the last drop. This year, without meaning to, we ended up making vegan laksa for my birthday dinner at home. And except for Dylan’s cooking and that 2:01 PM hug, I’d say my birthday was pretty uneventful, modest, and every bit happy.

[bolivershagnasty]

A wholesome tongue is a tree of life.

Seems like something Mic tries to tell himself when he knows he's not in the path of light.

Guilt is too Catholic. I prefer to understand seasons. There's breathe in and breathe out. Sometimes there's pain, but eventually it gets expelled. Seasons. Sometimes there's rain. Sometimes you're drained. Sometimes you've got 10 minutes of fame. But in the end it's just a cycle.

You are the remains. Your focal point. Point of view.

I've done bad things. I've made countless mistakes. But that's because God gave me ambition. God gave me addiction. God gave me desire so that I would go out and try it all So that I would climb and fall To be free to become a thrall of my own vices

To escape them To simultaneously erase them and retain them.

My God-given desire to fuck up is a blessing. Without that, I'd have no experience. And without experience, I'd have no wisdom.

By the time I'm old, I'll be a wise old man. Might have to convert to judaism to be a Wiseman or a Waisman.

Funny how things work like that. My grandma used to pray for God to give me wisdom. Man I wonder what she expected. Maybe she knew it the whole time. Poor Grandma. At least she's gone now, and doesn't have to see the worst of things.

She planned her own funeral like she was trying to get out of here. HAHAHA! Love that woman.

But man, if the origin of a wise man is a fuck-up, then you know who was a degenerate in their day.. Churchill must've been wild. He drank like a sumnabitch.

So I'll keep trudging through. Making less mistakes each decade. What, you thought I might say each day? Year even. I'm wise enough to know I'll still fuck up. But in a good way.

My context is changing, as I learn more of my purpose. Today I realized that God made me hate taxes for a reason. How else would I start a non-profit? Profit never mattered in the purpose. But profit can come from the tangent of the purpose.

I'll have a fundraiser at the bar. And donate the earnings. But the bar owner will be my friend, and they'll want to save money on their transactions. Or maybe they'll want a party that I'll get paid for.

I am more than a single business. I am many businesses.

It's one thing to believe that you are doing right by the world, but you've got to feed yourself so that you can grow into that purpose.

That's why the pope has an army. Can't do everything at church. Not that I'm in line with that guy, but I think they know what they're doing enough to have such a grasp on the world.

There's a voice, and there's a pair of hands, and there's a pair of eyes and there's a pair of legs, and every other part of the body. If you do nothing but talk, you never listen. And if you don't walk, you can't find an audience. And if you don't use your hands, you can't grab the mic. Mic.

Working on the one thing separate from all else will get you nowhere. You have to integrate the different parts of the greater body. Working one is just spinning wheels, man.

Life is about living together. Multiple purposes on one planet- on one body. In one's career.

Not just to run the treadmill and never hit the streets.

There is a way that seems right to a man, but it's end is the way of death.

A wholesome tongue is a tree of life.

starts: A wholesome tongue is a tree of life.

ends: There is a way that seems right to a man, but it's end is the way of death.

[duhragonball]

Hellsing Liveblog Ch. 57-61

This is the “Wizardry” arc. 

I don’t know why it just now occurred to me, but there’s more than a hint of the Joker in the Major’s character.   He’s always grinning, and now we have him dancing on a blimp while enemy helicopters are firing on him.

The Doctor shits a brick over this, because the arrival of the Vatican’s 9th Crusade force is the first serious resistance that Millennium has encountered since they invaded London.   He begs the Major to come back inside and move their airship to safety, but the Major is too preoccupied with dancing like a goofball.   Up to this point, the audience must have been eager to see someone take a poke at the Major.  I know I was, if only to see what sort of powers he had.   I mean, he hasn’t aged a day, but he doesn’t seem to be a vampire, so what’s his deal?

But before we can find out, the helicopter that was about to shoot him gets torn apart by magic wires.   Wait... that sounds like...

DUN DUN DUUUUUNNNNNNN! 

Yeah, Walter’s switched sides.   He’s also younger-looking too, so this must be what Schrodinger was talking about when he told Zorin that the Major and Doctor had a new “toy”.   They were too busy turning him into a vampire to bother punishing Zorin for disobeying orders.   In the previous chapter, the Major asked about using Walter (without mentioning him by name), and the Doc said something about the rushed nature of the job.    Presumably, the Doctor was doing the artificial vampire treatment on Walter all through the night, while Seras and the Wild Geese were defending the mansion. 

What I’ve never been sure of is whether this was a spur-of-the-moment decision, or if Millennium approached Walter a long time ago, and Walter’s been their mole in Hellsing throughout this entire story.   The Major’s line here seems to suggest this was a long-term plan.    “I had already decided half a century ago.   The Death’s Head [the Nazi SS skull insignia] is a fitting match for the Angel of Death [Walter’s old Hellsing codename].”

But that could just mean the Major thought of the idea way back then.   He saw Walter and Alucard wrecking all his stuff in World War II and thought “This kid would be a good recruit someday!” But when did he make the pitch?   Was it last night?    Before the Valentines’ attack?   Before Arthur Hellsing’s death?   Before the end of the war?

I think it’s reasonable to assume that Walter was on board at least before he parted ways with Integra back in Chapter 39.  The Captain suddenly showed up, and he told Integra to take the car and flee, because he wasn’t sure he could defeat the Captain and he didn’t want her around in case he failed.   But it’s much more likely that he only said this to keep her from finding out that he had a rendezvous with the Major, who arrived soon after.   

Now that I think about it, this may be the only reason the Major sent his troops to capture Integra.   He wasn’t particularly concerned about her, but he knew Walter would be with her, and he wanted to get him to the Doctor as quickly as possible.   This may also be why he ordered Zorin Blitz to hold off on attacking the Hellsing mansion.  If Walter had been inside, Zorin wouldn’t have known about his allegiance, and it’s very likely that one might have killed the other.  

Actually, yeah, this is why the Major fired those rockets on the Hellsing mansion in the first place.   If Walter was there, he would know the attack was coming, and use the attack to cover his departure. Then Zorin probably would have been ordered to give him a lift back to the Doctor.  But Walter wasn’t home, and Zorin didn’t wait for orders, and Seras turned out to be much too powerful for her.  

Wow, this is like peeling an onion.  That must be what the Major meant when he chided Zorin for costing him “precious soldiers.”    Her reckless tactics got her and her company killed, but she might have also wrecked his plans to extract Walter, and it’s only a matter of luck that he happened to be at the naval base instead of the mansion. And we know that Zorin knew nothing about Walter, because Schrodinger only hinted about him without mentioning his name.   If Zorin had known, he would have just said “Yeah, we’re turning Walter into a vampire right now, no thanks to you.”

Anyway, Walter’s betrayal fascinates me, but also fuck you, Walter, you traitorous piece of shit.

Speaking of treachery, the 9th Crusaders are busy shooting the shit out of London, killing anything that survived the previous night.    Millennium is a threat, sure, but Maxwell sees this as an opportunity to conquer England for the Catholic church.    I’m not really sure “conquer” is meant literally.   I think it’s more like, Hellsing and the Iscariot Organization have some treaty, and I think that treaty applies to their respective governments as well, but the civilian governments might know nothing about it.    Maybe?  

What I’m saying is that I think this 9th Crusade is supposed to end with the overthrow of the Anglican Church in the United Kingdom, with a new Catholic-leaning regime in its place, so that the Pope would have the same influence over the U.K. that he apparently has over continental Europe.   

In that sense, I’m pretty sure Hellsing’s version of John Paul II didn’t order Maxwell to gun down civilians and shout “Die did die die!” over a loudspeaker.   He may not have been terribly worried about Protestant casualties, but there’s plenty of Catholics living in London, after all.    Maxwell doesn’t seem to care, and I think it’s clear that he’s exceeding his mandate.   

And Alexander Anderson knows it.   I think the whole Catholic contingent in this story knows that Maxwell’s gone too far, but Anderson’s the only one honest enough to say it out loud.    Anderson’s group is still escorting Integra home when the 9th Crusade attacks, and Integra accuses Maxwell of betraying her, but Anderson remarks that such backstabbing is typical in war.    So it’s not Maxwell’s duplicity that offends him, it’s the way he’s going about it.   When Anderson kills people, he’s doing it to serve God, and God alone.   Maxwell’s not serving God at all.

“All you’re serving is his power!!” Anderson says.    By “his” does Anderson mean Satan?  Millennium?  Mars, the god of war?   Maybe all three, or maybe it doesn’t matter.   I always thought Maxwell was serving his own power, but the point is that he’s not doing God’s will by any stretch of the imagination.

But the others still respect the chain of command.  Archbishop Maxwell is in charge of the 9th Crusade and the Iscariot Organization, and Heinkel reminds Anderson that they were ordered to capture Sir Integra, not escort her home.    So they all draw their guns on Integra, resulting in the most Integra panel ever.

Then Seras shows up and beats all their asses.   Yeaaaaahhhhh!   Seras, you’re doing amazing, sweetie!

Everyone’s like “Oh shit, it’s Seras Victoria!” like they’re gonna try to fight her, but Anderson can tell that Seras is now way out of their league.   Remember, this group of Iscariots fought some Millennium troops and half of them were killed.   Seras tore through about as many Milennium troops without much hassle at all, and that was before she drank Pip’s blood.

And Anderson spares some words of praise for his foe.   I guess this is like the owner of a Ford truck exchanging compliments with the owner of a Chevy truck.    “You’re a rat bastard, Chevy man,” he says, “but those are some fine Truck Nutz” you have dangling from your tow hitch.”  They’re never gonna be pals, but real recognizes real.

Also, I just think Seras looks super extra-cool in this moment.  Anderson kind of treated her like a joke before, but now he sees her as a peer.   She looks so dark and haunted now, and at the same time she’s more comfortable and sure of herself than we’ve ever seen her.    Seras never set out to become a vampire, but she’s still found herself on this path.  It’s scary and beautiful at the same time.

But never MIND that SHIT, here comes...

No, not Maxwell, Alucard is returning!  I just used this page because Maxwell’s reaction to the news is more interesting than gloomy images of a ruined carrier drifting up the Thames river.   

There’s a moment in the Hellsing Ultimate anime, right after Seras and Anderson turn to look, where she’s got this big grin on her face, and she goes “I can feel it.   He’s returning.”  It’s not in the manga, maybe because it’s not that important, but I’m a sucker for any Seras content, and I love that moment because she can sense Alucard at a distance now, and it’s a very pleasant experience.   For Seras, I mean.  I suspect it’s actually a very bonechilling, bloodcurdling sensation, but Seras has gone Full Goth, so she digs that sort of thing now.  

I don’t know how the hell Anderson can sense Alucard, though.   Maybe being a Regenerator gave him super smelling powers, like Wolverine.  

And even the Major is pleased, because now we finally have all the major players in the same city.   Not sure why the Captain rates an appearance here, when he never says a word, but we’ll run with it. 

So, up to now, we’ve had these 9th Crusaders lined up against Millennium soldiers, each cosplaying as troops from old wars.  I guess Millennium’s SS uniforms have hint of legitimacy to them, as these guys really were part of the SS back in World War II, before they became vampires.  But the point stands, they’re walking anachronisms and they know it.  

But then Alucard jumps in between them, practically giddy for a chance to participate in this war.   Not to be outdone, Anderson and the Captain perform similar Iron Man landings on the same street.   When I watched the OVA, this was about the point I started to wonder if I had missed something about the Captain, because this story has been hinting that he’s like Millennium’s strongest guy, and somehow on par with Anderson and Alucard, even though he hasn’t said anything or done anything this entire time.   This would be like if Superman and Goku squared off in the middle of London, and then some rando OC from DeviantArt walked up to join them.   Like, we know Al and we know Andy, but who the hell is this dude?   I don’t care if he can hang with these two, they should have established that earlier.

Al asks for orders, and Integra makes this big production out of “Kill everybody with a racist uniform and a funny accent.”   Okay, fine, but this is a lot of bad guys.   How is even Alucard supposed to take them all down?  And this leads us to Control Art Restriction Level Zero.

I’m just gonna cut to the chase, because this post is running long enough already.  Al used “Level 1″ to make short work of Luke Valentine and Rip van Winkle, and maybe Dandyman as well, I’m not sure.   Recall that nothing could stop Alucard on the H.M.S. Eagle.   The Blackbird crash, the Millennium soldiers, Rip’s magic bullets, none of it.   So he activates “Level 0″, which ought to be even more gonzo overpowered, and starts reciting this alchemical poem which I really out to cover in some other post, and all the bad guys panic and start attacking him. 

To all the smartasses who say “Well why don’t the bad guys attack them during the transformation?” there you go.   AGAIN.   This sort of thing happens a lot more than you’d think, and it never works, because anime/manga creators are more self-aware than you’d think.   It never works, because if it did, then it wouldn’t be “attacking a character in mid-transformation”.  It would just be “killing a guy before he could do his big move.”  So when a character does a big climactic thing like this, there’s really only two options.   1) Have the other characters stand back and watch, or 2) have them TRY to stop it, only to fail, because it’s too late for that.

Anyway, I’m skipping all of that and just showing the end result of Alucard’s power-up.   The bad guys tear his body apart, but it doesnt’ matter because that never worked on him before, and then all these undead men crawl out of the black ether that seems to make up Al’s body.   Just a veritable flood of humans, all washing out of him like a tide of death.  

Anderson starts to figure it out when he recognizes some of the uniforms on these creatures.   And if that’s not enough, Integra explains it for Seras.   When vampires drink blood, they absorb the very essence of the living being who contained it.    “To suck blood is to make the whole existence of a life one’s own.” That’s why Zorin saw Pip’s memories when she tried to read Seras’ mind.   By drinking Pip’s blood, Seras has taken on Pip’s soul as well.   But that’s just one guy.   Alucard’s been drinking blood for over 500 years.   And each one he consumes becomes another soul in his personal army.   

I’m going to guess that Alucard didn’t always have the ability to manifest all of his victims as familiars like this.   Otherwise, how in the hell was Abraham van Helsing able to subdue him a century earlier?   The Hellsing family did stuff to enhance and improve Alucard’s powers, so maybe this was one of them.  They gave him the means to weaponize all of his victims’ souls, for use in large scale battles like this one. 

And I think this might be why Seras is trembling in this scene, because she knows that this ability was passed down to her when Alucard turned her into a vampire.   Or maybe, she’s realizing that she’s got something in common with all of those dead people in Al’s army.   Alucard made her a vampire, sure, but he still drank her blood, so doesn’t that mean there’s a Seras Victoria creature down there, standing alongside all the Janissaries, Wallachians, and everyone else Alucard has consumed?

Something I picked up on was that this is what all of those eyes in Alucard’s design are supposed to represent.   When he used Level 1 you’d see all these eyes staring out from the shadows, and now Level 0 has brought out all these dead people, like they’re the ones the eyes belong to.  Although, most of them don’t actually have eyes, just smoke trailing from their eye sockets.   So maybe that’s symbolic as well.  

There’s also horses in this mess, and that makes me wonder if Alucard drank the horses’ blood along with the riders. Anyway, Archbishop Maxwell observes all of this from his Popemobile and finally confronts the elephant in the room: Alucard is Dracula, like the Dracula.  I don’t think it was ever meant to be a secret, but Kouta Hirano’s been dancing around it this whole time, without ever spelling it out, and now he’s finally spelling it out.  

I think the only one who might not know is Seras?   Someone might have filled her in off-panel, or maybe she figured it out, since it’s not exactly hard, but I don’t know.

So yeah, somewhere in this arc, they do a headcount of all three sides of this thing.  Millennium has “572″ soldiers left, and the 9th Crusade has “2875″, while Hellsing, of course, is down to just 3.  But Alucard has more than evened the playing field, since he can do this trick and spawn an invincible army.   I’m more confused how Millennium lost 428 guys in one night.   Seras killed a lot of them, but not that many. Sir Penwood got some and Anderson killed a bunch of them, but not hundreds of them.  The Crusaders could have taken out that many, but they haven’t been here very long.  

But yeah, they try to form a Phalanx to hold off Alucard’s forces, and it does not work at all.    You can’t kill these things because they’re already dead. right?  I mean, maybe the Crusaders have holy weapons that can destroy these things, but there’s just too many of them.    And the Millennium troops don’t even have holy weapons, so they’re completely fucked.

But what about the helicopters?  Well, Alucard drank the blood of Dandyman and Rip Van Winkle too, and their powers are now a part of him, which makes quick work of nearby aircraft.    I like how these two look the same as before, but they never say a word.   I think they’re the only ones with normal eyes, although Alucard’s shadow tentrils are still fused with their bodies.  

The Crusaders’ battle lines are broken, and they beg for Maxwell to order a retreat before they’re all slaughtered.   But Maxwell refuses to give up.  He’s drunk on his new power, and so he can’t accept that he’s been one-upped so easily.   Then the helicopter carrying his Popetruck gets destroyed, and he somehow crashes without getting hurt.

And now he’s got a front-row seat to the same hell his troops are experiencing, but he still gloats, because somehow Alucard’s soldiers can’t get through the glass.    He refers to “tektite” reinforcement, and that’s dumb because Tektites are just an enemy in the Legend of Zelda.   I’m onto your ass, Hirano. 

But then Anderson throws a knife at the glass, and that breaks it, so maybe it was magic glass that only a blessed weapon could pierce?    All that really matters is that Anderson has finally turned on Maxwell, and Maxwell is doomed.

Alucard’s dead warriors hoist him up on pikes, fitting for Vlad the Impaler, and Maxwell realizes that he’s going to die alone in a foreign land.   The moral is: Don’t start none, won’t be none.

Then this happens, and I’m pretty sure Dark Horse Comics goofed when they scanned this manga for the digital edition.  I’d contact them to complain, but they don’t even sell Hellsing anymore because they lost the license years ago.   I don’t think a lot of stuff happened on Pages 62-63 of Volume 8 of the Hellsing manga, but I can’t tell.  I’m guessing just Maxwell finally succumbing to his injuries while Anderson pontificates about why he had to do it to him.   And really, Anderson hardly needs to explain his actions in this case.   Maxwell sucked.

Moving on, Anderson contacts all Vatican forces and tells them to withdraw.   They can’t beat Alucard, Maxwell is dead, and there’s nothing more they can do here.  However, Anderson chooses to stay behind and take on Alucard.  

This is Anderson’s reasoning: By releasing all of Alucard’s stolen lives to fight as his army, Alucard has left his person vulnerable to attack.  So Andy thinks that if he gets close enough to Alucard, he can finally have a chance to defeat him.   If he’s right, this might be his only chance to try.   

Anderson further speculates that this may have been the Major’s plan from the beginning.   Invade London, force Alucard to use this Level 0 ability, all to leave Alucard vulnerable to assassination.   Perhaps the Major was even counting on Anderson to see this opening and take it.  

More to the point, I think Anderson kind of has to fight Alucard because it’s the only way his people can escape London.  Integra’s orders were clear: None of these invaders leaves the island alive.    Alucard would continue hunting down the Crusaders whether they retreat or fight back, so some force has to stay and keep them occupied to save the rest.  

Anyway, now we get to the actual part with this scene, where Alucard kneels before his master and she welcomes him back.   It’s pretty satisfying to see all these butthole soldiers finally get what’s coming to them.   

I’m just gonna put up the entire reunion moment because it’s so sweet.   Interesting how Seras sort of reverts to her old self when Alucard returns.    For all that badass power she gained from drinking Pip, she’s still uneasy around Alucard.   But he missed her and I think that look on his face tells the whole story.    He of all people can tell that Seras has finally taken the fateful step to becoming a “true vampire”. 

I do think it’s kind of interesting how Seras continues to address Alucard as “Master”.   He promised her way back in Volume 1 that she’d no longer be a servant if she drank blood of her own free will, but maybe it’s more complicated than that.    Or, perhaps she still calls him “Master” out of respect, rather than any sort of blood bond or whatever you want to call it.   It’s like how Anakin continued to call Obi-Wan “Master” in “Revenge of the Sith”, even though he had been promoted to Jedi Knight.   The relationship is still there, even if it’s no longer official.  

I’m a big, dumb Seras fanboy, so you’d better believe I think about this sort of thing a lot.   I’m not real crazy about Alucard/Seras shipping, although I do sort of get it.   I’m really not interested in Seras in some freaky-deaky sex kind of way.    Take the D/s stuff to the Alucard/Integra room where it belongs.   No, there’s something very wholesome between Alucard and Seras, and I could talk about it all damn day.    And why not?  It’s my blog, and I’ve got the time.    So let’s start with--

Um, excuse you?!  

Okay, so Anderson isn’t waiting around to take on Alucard, so I guess we’re doing this now.

And whether or not the Major planned for this to happen, he certainly approves...

[memorylang]

12 Months’ Pandemic Chronicled | #51 | March 2021

Happy Palm Sunday yesterday, and Happy Passover from the night before! Right under two weeks ago, March 16, 2O2I, marked the one-year anniversary to the close of my first Peace Corps Mongolia service. While I’ve continued to serve virtually, I’ve done so informally as a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer. Having lived these past 12 months back in the States, today’s tales chronicle that year. 

Also commemorating the one-year anniversary, I’ve uploaded dozens of photos from my first nine months serving Mongolia. You can find those on my Instagram and Facebook, from February and March. I begin today’s stories with those. From there, I chronicle my journey across the year. 

Evacuating Mongolia (February 2O2O)

February’s final week, on Ash Wednesday 2O2O, I was in Mongolia celebrating the third day of Tsagaan Sar, its Lunar New Year. Returning to my apartment from my last supper, I read an email from Peace Corps Mongolia that we were evacuating. I pulled an all-nighter packing my apartment. Shortly after sunrise, I visited a Peace Corps neighbor’s apartment to pack theirs. Then in my final two days, I said hasty goodbyes to community members, exchanging parting gifts. 

Sunday morning, which began Peace Corps Week and March 2O2O, I and fellow Volunteers loaded into Peace Corps vehicles and rode in our caravan till evening. Then the snowstorm caused us to need to stay overnight in a hotel coincidentally located in a city that my cohort would frequent during our summer 2OI9 for training. My evacuation group reached Mongolia’s capital Monday afternoon, with briefings from staff throughout Tuesday. Mongolia had already begun to enforce mask-wearing and physical-distancing, so we couldn’t do much with our final hours in Mongolia. Indeed, since mid-January, many public places had already closed due to quarantine. 

Wednesday night, the week after my peers and I had received notice of our evacuation and now mere hours before my group would depart the country, we awaited the arrival of fellow Peace Corps peers to the capital. For, Peace Corps staff staggered our arrivals into and departures from the capital to account for both the time drivers would need to assemble us from across the nation and the limited flight options still going out of the country. Those of us who remained awake through our final night enjoyed getting to see and embrace peers for our final moments together. 

Over the course of Thursday, March 5, my group flew first from Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, through Moscow, Russia, to Berlin, Germany. Many of our itineraries diverged. From Germany, I and a few flew to Amsterdam, the Netherlands. From the Netherlands, I and a couple others flew to New York, New York. I slept four and a half hours’ in a hotel. Then I flew alone Friday from New York to Las Vegas, Nevada. I returned to my home of junior high and high school in North Las Vegas. 

American Twilight Zone (March 2O2O)

My first few weeks in the States felt weird, not just because of reverse culture shock. Back in Mongolia, fellow Peace Corps Volunteers, particularly Health Volunteers, had followed American media and read that our presidential administration had been downplaying the COVID-19 pandemic. Problematically, too, when leaders acknowledged it, some labeled it the “China virus” and accused Asians of spreading it. These set the tone. 

When I arrived in New York, I felt perturbed by the lack of mask-wearing and physical distancing. The morning when I’d fly out, I felt annoyed when the worker who checked me into my flight joked that I might have the virus since I’d flown in from Mongolia. Mongolia had no COVID cases—and wouldn’t have its first community transmission till November 11, 2O2O. Friends, too, when I said that I’d come back, distrusted that I couldn’t have the virus. So, although Peace Corps peers and I had already been quarantining nearly a month and a half before returning to the States—and very much craved to reconnect with folks—we found ourselves again isolated. 

Then Vegas felt weird. Nevada had reported its first COVID case the day before I returned, yet Mongolia hadn’t any. Yet Mongolia had shut down, and Nevada hadn’t. Society moved as though little was happening. My brothers still had school and were gone most of most days. Dad worked weekdays out-of-town. Thus, while I lived again in the States, even inside my family’s home, I was the only one around. I felt lonelier than how’d I’d felt before leaving my life abroad. 

The Filipina family of my father’s fiancée was perhaps the most understanding of my circumstances. The oldest daughter was celebrating her birthday that first Sunday, March 8, since my return to the States. So, I got to join them in enjoying the occasion. As I’d come to learn, Mongolia and the Philippines had more cultural similarities than I’d expected. I’d also feel dismayed to learn that people weren’t treating the youngest daughter kindly in her food service role, for some customers believed that her being Asian meant that she had the Coronavirus. 

Resettling Into Lent (March 2O2O)

Most every morning, my first few days and weeks, tracks from Disney's “Frozen II” became my anthems. I’d seen the film that Friday, March 6, when I’d flown alone back to Vegas. I’d connected especially with “Show Yourself,” “Some Things Never Change” and “The Next Right Thing.” I started to learn the lyrics not only in English but also in Mandarin Chinese and Spanish. 

My local church was still open. Meanwhile, in Mongolia, our church had been closed for nearly months. So, I attended services daily. I overheard old parishioners wondering what all this pandemic talk was about. I visited Reconciliation and a Stations of the Cross service. I applied to sing in the choir with which my late mom sang. 

My second week in the States, church and schools closed. Meanwhile, Peace Corps announced its global evacuation. My peers and I weren’t to expect to return to Mongolia this summer and instead were to expect that fall would be the soonest. My youngest brother’s hs senior spring ended abruptly, so he stuck around at the house. Our oldest brother left to quarantine with his girlfriend and her sisters. 

I cleaned much in and around the house. My greatest achievement early in the pandemic was to lead a garage clean-up with all siblings when my sisters visited. The task enabled us to at last park a vehicle in it once more. My siblings and I donated, too, decades of belongings. 

Among the unearthing, I dove deep into family history. I wrote up my understanding of my father's and my late mother's ancestries, which were also mine. Months later, I'd join WikiTree, talk to distant relatives and migrate large swathes of history onto the platform. 

Easter in Action (April–May 2O2O)

Gloom seemed to enshroud the world by Easter. I saw from the telly the Vatican's Lenten services, witnessing Pope Francis’ words from his city to the world and for Holy Week. His Good Friday Way of the Cross felt especially moving, for prisoners had written beautiful reflections that made me realize how little of a prison our quarantine was. 

My younger sister in LA had also returned to visit Vegas. I resumed daily exercise routines, including trying to concurrently complete handheld video games and walk miles on the treadmill. This began my May push to make the most of my days back in America. I kicked up a daily Duolingo habit, rising through leagues, and talked regularly with Mongols during early mornings. Such helped my sanity, especially when state offices gave me a hard time trying to get the unemployment assistance to which lawmakers entitled evacuated Returned Peace Corps Volunteers.  

Around Memorial Day, an uncle and aunt visited from Kansas to celebrate my youngest brother’s high school graduation online. The relatives also took my siblings, a family friend and me on my first national parks trip in years. We saw Saguaro, Great Basin and Capitol Reef. During the trip I’d grown my Goodreads library and soon enough uncovered the Libby app. The journey led me too to begin a pensive look back on my life. 

Summer in Reno (June–July 2O2O)

Dad remarried on June 6, 2020. Shortly thereafter, I relocated to Reno to help Pa and Stepma (“Tita”) handle copious amounts of yard work. With more time to reflect, I took up the request of a homebound friend to pray rosaries daily over the phone with him. 

Another friend of mine was going through a dark patch too but had a love of films. So each morning I’d rise early to see one of his recommendations then discuss it while working the yard if I wasn’t praying a rosary. I fondly recall the conversations while trimming plants, as I wander the Reno backyard even now. 

Near the same time, the friend and another encouraged me to tell my stories. So I began to write a memoir, on which he’d give feedback. The other friend had me appear on his podcast. Both experiences made the summer feel very whole. In memory of my first summer in Mongolia 2OI9, I also wrote a more detailed series on those experiences. [Arrival (June 2OI9), Meeting Host Family (July 2OI9), Summer’s End (August 2OI9)]

I celebrated my 23rd birthday in Vegas with an overnight vigil, praying 23 rosaries alone and with Catholic friends from around the globe. I felt such joy to reconnect meaningfully with so many across languages and cultures. Languages became a growing theme for me. I’d also begun again playing Pokémon GO after having not played since 2OI6. 

That summer, I finished seeing “Star Wars: The Clone Wars” (Season 7) as well as relevant bits from “Star Wars: Rebels.” I kept up with the Japanese episodes of “Pokémon Journeys: The Series.” Those, I’ve watched with English subtitles to know what’s happening. I’d also begun to read chapters of the Bible daily, at that time checking in weekly with an ol' friend. I started with Acts then Proverbs, Ephesians then Psalms. Meanwhile came Hebrews and John. Then were Ruth and Matthew. Now I read 1 Kings and Mark. I’d grown to appreciate both the Hebrew and Christian Bibles with renewed interest. 

Autumn Languages (August–September 2O2O)

Much of that fall, I was back in Reno. Yet, my younger brother had also come to Reno for his undergraduate fall semester. The guest room where I’d stayed quickly became his room, which left me a tad displaced. Still, I stuck through. Mornings, I rose early to read through a Latin textbook before daily conversations with a close friend who’d majored in classics as an undergrad.

Meanwhile, I’d stepped up to arrange meetings with Congressional lawmakers on behalf of the National Peace Corps Association. I’d also taken on roles within my alma mater Honors College and within the Social Justice Task Force for the American Psychological Association’s Society for the Psychology of Religion and Spirituality. I kept people organized and took notes during meetings. Meanwhile, my siblings and I had been starting a scholarship foundation, so I’d taken point on negotiating a partnership with the Vegas-based Public Education Foundation. 

As a nice break, I joined friends I’d met in high school on their near-monthly trips to national and state parks. These sights included Lassen Volcanic, Burney Falls and Tahoe’s Emerald Bay. Realizing that I wouldn’t return to Mongolia that fall, I booked a Department of Motor Vehicles appointment to renew my learner’s permit—The earliest appointment would be in December. 

In entertainment news, I’d finished seeing “Queer Eye: We’re in Japan,” “Love on the Spectrum” and “Midnight Gospel.” I’d also started playing “Pokémon Masters EX” when I’d heard that it included characters from multiple generations. I enjoyed how the stories felt new yet nostalgic. 

National Park Winter (October, November, December 2O2O)

October was a great month for my spiritual life. I got to attend my youngest sister’s Confirmation. I enjoyed my first retreat in years. I also got to tape videos for my alma mater. 

Then I returned to Vegas some weeks to complete more yard work. I’d also relocated belongings in different rooms and was able to have my own bedroom back in Vegas. This gave me a decent space in which to work. From November, I’ve also been hosting weekly video calls to help Mongols from my community abroad continue to practice English. 

I’d also listened to Riordan audiobooks, “Blood of Olympus” and “Hidden Oracle,” and various authors’ financial literacy materials. By December, “Kafka on the Shore” was a real highlight. In Reno, I saw too “The Mandalorian” (Seasons 1–2), emphatically recommended by a friend with whom I’d hiked at Red Rock Canyon. My other friends and I reunited to try again at Crater Lake and succeeded. 

My siblings and I partnered with the Vegas-based Public Education Foundation to launch our family LinYL Foundation to honor our late mother with scholarships for students. Though my formal role’s within outreach, I’ve done a fair bit of organizational leadership given my undergrad experiences. I’ve also been helping another non-profit start-up. Through it, I’ve gotten to meet alumni of overseas programs. 

My family celebrated Thanksgiving and Christmas in Vegas with our stepsisters. I’d also celebrated American Independence Day with them. Christmas felt peculiar, as I’d returned from Mongolia to Vegas the Christmas before, too! 

Then my national parks friends and I hit a new record, seeing Walnut Canyon, Petrified Forest, Meteor Crater, Sedona’s Devil’s Bridge and the Grand Canyon. Having successfully renewed my learner’s permit, I scheduled my driving test for the earliest date—February. I returned to Reno and at New Year’s reunited with friends for whom I’d participated in their wedding the year before. 

Road to Rejuvenation (January–February 2O2I)

Following the U.S. elections came the presidential inauguration. I felt more at peace with the state of the nation after that. Though U.S. politics have absorbed media significantly throughout the pandemic, I felt relieved by the calls for unity and returns to political normalcy from Inauguration Day. 

Meanwhile, I sought to kick off 2O2I strong, with renewed optimism and control. I practiced driving almost daily. I’d seen “Daredevil” (Season 3) too and progressed in the Blue Lions story of my younger sister’s “Fire Emblem: Three Houses” copy. At February’s start, after years of challenges, I secured my driver’s license. 

Mid-February, my national parks friends and I saw Utah’s Mighty Five. Our trip spanned Canyonlands, Arches, Capitol Reef (different section), Escalante, Bryce Canyon and Zion. I got to help drive at the end from Vegas to Reno, a major milestone. 

Thanks to Discord, I attended a virtual alumni reunion of my high school alma mater. I experienced our school's recreation in “Minecraft: Java Edition,” wandering into the classroom where I used to play “Minecraft” as a freshman. In “RuneScape,” after 12 years on-off, I’d achieved level 99 in all but the newest skill. I'd even gotten the characters I wanted in “Pokémon Masters EX” and nearly finished my Kanto Pokédex in “Pokémon GO.” (I've never before completed a Pokédex.) 

I finished February recording music for my undergrad parish’s online edition to our annual performance for “Living Stations of the Cross.” I got to lector at and attend a friend’s baptism. I’d also soaked up my youngest sister’s boyfriend’s Disney+ again and saw “WandaVision” entirely. Its takes on grief and joy astounded. 

Social Justice (March 2O2I)

These bring me to where and how I am today. I write from Reno, Nev., where snow had fallen and the weather grown warmer. Spring is here. 

The announcement of increasing vaccines gave me lots of hope. Since I've lost so many people this past year to COVID-19 and other conditions I'm grateful that we may near the end. An email from and a check-in call with Peace Corps confirmed that summer would be the soonest I’m going back abroad. Still, I’ve kept in touch with my people in Mongolia. 

My older brother and his girlfriend moved into the Vegas house, so I haven’t felt as obligated to be there. Thus, I’ve focused more time on the church in Reno. 

A great fount of a spiritual joy for me has been getting to help lector for my college parish’s weekly Proclamations of the Word. I received particular acclaim for my reading from 2 Chronicles, for Lent’s Fourth Sunday, which delighted me. At the time I’d been reading 1 Kings, so I’d enjoyed recognizing parallels. In some ways the exercises are like a miniature college course. Beyond regular Sundays and Holy Week, I’d also lectored for such feast days as St. Joseph’s Day (March 19) and the Annunciation (March 25). 

My siblings’ and my family foundation chose our first year of recipients. It’s been an exciting process, reading and witnessing our inspiring candidates. I hope that I'll get to meet these students someday, but ah, the pandemic. 

I’ve gotten back into “Frozen II,” thanks to its authentic behind-the-scenes docuseries. I've also passed the one-year anniversary of my first seeing the film. Each morning I’ve sought to see something on Disney's platform—real' nice. 

Our psychological division’s presidential task force for Social Justice released our statement about the Capitol riots, which received strong critics but stronger supporters. Then came the Atlanta situation. 

In my U.S. Week 5I (Feb. 19–25), during a walk past the nearby elementary school, I’d had an unpleasant personal experience that led me to feel very grateful when the #StopAsianHate campaign began. I’ll likely share more later, but today’s blog story is about done. 

Hope and Easter 2O2I (April 2O2I)

At the last Adoration activity before Easter, our parish offered Reconciliation, so I returned again. Absolution offers such sweet cleansing for my mind and soul. Now Holy Week begins. I'm still lectoring, too! 

This summer, I hope to write more on my memoir. I’m still revising my research. I'm set to finish all five tiers of Duolingo Latin tomorrow. Then I'll get back to my textbook. 

I still delight in chatting with ol’ friends. My national parks homies and I will hit Redwood next weekend. Then my parish has Spring Retreat. I look forward to getting vaccinated in coming months then hugging folks forevermore. 

You can read more from me here at DanielLang.me :)

[firelordizumi]

Rick's attempts at making Jason as powerful as Percy were stupid. Percy needed a CURSE in order to kill a titan and still had help but Jason singlehandedly defeated a Titan? A lesser Titan, too. Jason has never gone up against a god like Percy and won. Jason never survived Tartarus. The gods didn't offer to make Jason a god because they didn't fear him as much as Percy. Percy became praetor in a matter of days when Jason tried to be praetor for years.

(a healthy reminder!) jason was meant to be the center protagonist in hoo along with leo and piper, but he got to narrate in tlh, hoh and boo. he didn’t know who he was in tlh, his contribution in hoh is to be the person nico has to forcibly out himself to, and jason’s entire series started and finished in the first 4 chapters of boo.

that being said, rick’s “attempts” were awful considering his “having to go back to the three demigod POVs that started the series” because instead of focusing on the new demigods as he supposedly wanted to do, he made percy and annabeth the center focus of half the series (son was more about percy than frank or hazel, which is sad considering this is the first and last time their characterization meant anything to both rick and the fandom, moa was about annabeth, and hoh was a disaster that centered around percabeth being in tartarus) but then he got upset when people wanted follow through on percy and annabeth, and i don’t really fault them. instead of using the series to dive into backstories of demigods like jason, frank and the rest of the romans, rick’s priorities remained on percy and annabeth and it lead to him doing every character a major disservice. 

you don’t know if jason’s gone up against a god. if you say “well it would have been mentioned” i don’t buy that because i have, in total, maybe a book and a half of information on him, most of which was him narrating without his memories. just because percy needed the curse (a greek curse, btw) in order to defeat kronos doesn’t mean that’s what jason needed. there are multiple ways to kill a titan, and it’s perfectly plausible that jason was able to singlehandedly defeat a titan in a way that percy and the greeks were not aware of. if rick had given jason a proper backstory, we could have seen that. 

percy surviving tartarus versus jason was a choice on rick’s part, not jason or percy’s. it was the author’s choice, and it goes back to what i was saying about rick being a hypocrite and putting the focus on percy and annabeth and act like it’s the fans’ fault for wanting a follow through. pathetic. i still think to this day that it shouldn’t have been percy/annabeth in tartarus. we’ve had a whole series of them defying the odds/stepping up to do what’s right, and that was time and character development that should have been given to jason/piper/leo/hazel/frank. and since i’m already being bold, i genuinely think the solo quest in moa should have been given to one of those five as well. i know how smart annabeth is and what she’s capable of. i know percy and annabeth have been through a lot and are able to survive. there was no question about it. hoh was just a waste of time because it was 1) horrendously disorganized and 2) didn’t tell a story i didn’t already know the outcome to. 

like i said in a previous ask, the roman gods never communicated with their kids, much less interacted with them the way they did with their greek offspring. they were afraid of making anyone pontifex maximus because that would be comparing them to an emperor, who was known as a gift from the gods himself. ‘pontifex’ is also known as the pope (pope francis’s twitter handle is literally @pontifex), the leader of the entire catholic church. the gods clearly left a title like that to each their own to elect. it’s a big deal yet no one cares to mention it. i’m fairly certain that the roman gods hardly assisted their children in the titan war. i doubt there was, or will be, any discussion as to whether they should make a demigod into a god. that’s a greek thing, bruv. that doesn’t mean jason’s accomplishments are any less extraordinary, but we’ll never really know.

finally, i’m assuming the role of praetor is one that, once elected, you serve for life. meaning that the only way to become praetor is for there to be a vacancy because the previous praetor died. jason says he and reyna were made praetors after the titan war, which hints at the idea that before then, the post was filled by two other people who died (or stepped down) after the war. jason also states time and time again that he never wanted to be made praetor, but they did it anyway. when it came to percy, there was already a vacancy that needed to be filled, hence by percy was made praetor, also against his will. neither percy or jason wanted to be made praetor. it was really a matter of vacancy, or better yet, jason did so well leading the army in the titan war they made the previous praetor step down to give him the position, but there’s no way people would accept that narrative. it makes jason “too powerful.”

[opera-simplified]

Opera Simplified #3: Benvenuto Cellini

Benvenuto Cellini

Opera Simplified #3

The Basics:

Music: Hector Berlioz

Libretto: Henri Auguste Barbier and Léon de Wailly

Premiere: September 10, 1838; Salle le Peletier, Paris, France

Based on [very loosely]: Vita (Life), Benvenuto Cellini’s autobiography

Setting: Rome, the final days of Carnival, 1532

Characters:

Benvenuto Cellini, a goldsmith and sculptor—tenor

Teresa Balducci, his girlfriend—soprano

Fieramosca, her fiancé and the Pope’s official sculptor—baritone**

Giacomo Balducci, her father and the Pope’s treasurer—bass-baritone

Ascanio, Cellini’s apprentice—mezzo-soprano

Pope Clément VII, duh, the boss of the Roman Catholic Church—bass*

Francesco, one of Cellini’s assistants—tenor

Bernardino, another of Cellini’s assistants—bass

Pompeo, a swordsman and Fieramosca’s friend—baritone**

A Tavern Owner—tenor

A player in Cassandro’s troupe acting as Colombine—spoken

Requested by: @monotonous-minutia (once again, thank you both for enthusiastically reading this over and for making some of the videos featured in this Opera Simplified!)

*The Paris Opéra would not allow the Pope to be portrayed onstage for the premiere, so the character became Cardinal Salvati, although his music and function in the story remained identical. However, as it should be, virtually all available performances and recordings revert to the Pope, so as such (and according to Berlioz’s intentions), I will revert as well.

**Fieramosca and Pompeo were both originally intended to be played by tenors (according to the cast list given in the Bärenreiter critical edition), but they are universally played by baritones.

Additional Notes Before We Go: There are three versions of this opera: the first version (which I will call 1838 Original version) was the version that Berlioz initially presented to the Paris Opéra; the second (which I will call 1838 Premiere version) was the score actually performed in the initial run (which flopped) after cuts and censorship; the third version, which premiered in 1852 in the city of Weimar (thus it being called the Weimar version), had other cuts and more rearranging of sections in Act II.

In an attempt to follow both Berlioz’s intentions and modern performance/recording practice, this Opera Simplified will mostly follow the 1838 Original version, albeit with some elements from other versions. Those elements will be discussed by scene in the notes.

Also: Berlioz did envision the opera with spoken dialogue; recordings are split on the issue, although only one of the five productions I have watched uses spoken dialogue.

Finally, thanks to my university’s Fine Arts Library for having a very diverse collection of opera scores, including a Bärenreiter critical edition vocal-piano score of Benvenuto Cellini, which I consulted while researching and writing this Opera Simplified.

The Opera:

Benvenuto Cellini overture

Roman Carnival Overture (not to be confused with the opera’s actual overture (given above), although this uses two very lovely tunes from Act I of the opera)

Act I:

Scene 1:

Sunset on Shrove Monday, inside the Balducci house. At left is a table with two chairs. There are two doors, one on the left and one at the back. There is also a window at the right, where Teresa is standing and watching the Carnival revellers. Balducci enters, having just gotten dressed.

Balducci: Teresa!

*Crickets.*

Teresa! Where is she?

*Ditto.*

TERESA!

*Ditto.*

TERESA I’M NOT CALLING YOU AGAIN GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW WHERE ARE YOU

*Ditto, but this time he sees her.*

TERESA I SPECIFICALLY TOLD YOU THAT YOU WEREN’T ALLOWED TO BE BY THE WINDOW ARE YOU DEAF

*Teresa reluctantly leaves the window.*

Fine time for daydreaming; I’ve been calling you for FOREVER! Look, the Pope’s waiting for me, could you be a nice daughter and get me my stuff? My walking stick, my gloves, my dagger, that collection of papers…?

*She hands him each in turn.*

Ugh, I can’t BELIEVE that the Pope is making me come in all the time, especially this late, every morning, every night it’s always “BALDUCCI WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE SCULPTURE COMMISSION WITH CELLINI BLAH BLAH BLAH” and it’s EXHAUSTING. I mean, not to question the Pope or anything because that would be bad and sacrilegious and all, but the Pope has Fieramosca, who is not only a perfectly good sculptor and future son-in-law but also the official papal sculptor anyway, so why is he getting some lazy libertine metalworker from Florence, of all places, to make this sculpture? **

*He leaves, grumbling.*

Teresa: FINALLY HE’S LEAVING

*Balducci immediately returns.*

YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME 

Balducci: Just to make sure that nothing happens while I’m gone, lemme give you a Quick Fatherly Lecture™ because of course that will be effective! Come here and listen closely. ***

WELL, YA GOT TROUBLE, MY CHILD, RIGHT HERE I SAY YA GOT TROUBLE RIGHT HERE IN THE ETERNAL CITY—shoot where was I going with this okay start over

NEVER LOOK AT THE MOON EVER BECAUSE LOOKING AT THE MOON IS THE LITTLE SEEMINGLY INNOCENT STEP THAT LEADS TO LIVES BEING RUINED AND YOU’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO SLEEP AGAIN BECAUSE YOU’LL BE TOO BUSY HAVING CATHOLIC GUILT AND REGRETTING ALL YOUR LIFE CHOICES YOU COQUETTISH GIRLS NEED TO WATCH YOUR HEARTS AND KEEP THEM PURE AND ALL THE OTHER STUFF YOU SHOULD’VE LEARNED AT SUNDAY SCHOOL AND THE WORLD IS A CRAZY, BAD PLACE ALSO YOU SHOULD ALWAYS WEAR A MASK (not just because masks help save lives during pandemics although that’s not the kind of mask I’m talking about at this moment) ALSO MEN ARE HIDEOUS AND APPEARANCES ARE DECEIVING AND UH THERE ARE A LOT OF DEMONS OUT THERE I GUESS SO WATCH OUT

*He leaves again. Teresa watches to make sure he is absolutely gone.*

Teresa: OKAY HE’S LEAVING FOR REAL THIS TIME

First off, that lecture made no sense whatsoever; second off, that was, like, literally torture or martyrdom or something; third off, I’m so relieved! I can breathe and relax and not worry again!

Cellini, Francesco, Bernardino, and Their Fellow Revellers: *outside, in the street* TRALALALALALA DE PROFUNDIS SOMETHING SOMETHING CARNIVAL WILL BURY SOMEONE TONIGHT TRALALALA ALL YOU FELLOW YOUNG ONES LIVE WELL AND NO MATTER WHO YOU ARE STOP CRYING AND ENJOY LIFE AND DRINK TO LUNDI GRAS AND TO CARNIVAL VIVA CARNIVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL

*Yet again, Balducci returns.*

Balducci: WHERE’S ALL THIS RACKET COMING FROM

Teresa: uggggggggggggggggggh not again hey Dad aren’t you supposed to be going to a meeting with the Pope

Balducci: I KNOW oh great all this noise is right outside I need to speak to whoever the noise control manager is I’M PRETTY SURE CELLINI AND HIS WILD CROWD IS MAKING ALL THIS NOISE TERESA AVOID ALL OF THEM AT ALL COSTS

*Cellini and his buddies throw what appears to be white confetti up through the window; they are actually white plaster pellets, which leave white dust all over Balducci.*

ARE YOU KIDDING ME I JUST GOT THIS NICE NEW OUTFIT AND THEY HAVE TO GO AND RUIN IT RIGHT BEFORE I’M SUPPOSED TO MEET WITH THE POPE IT’S TOO LATE TO CHANGE NOW SO I GUESS I’LL JUST HAVE TO GO LOOKING LIKE THIS YOU DAMN TUSCAN BOY I’LL HAVE MY REVENGE ON YOU SOMEDAY

Cellini, Francesco, Bernardino, and Their Fellow Revellers: LONG LIVE JOY LET’S BE HAPPY BECAUSE GOD GAVE US HAPPINESS AND LIFE SO LET’S NOT CRY AND INSTEAD JUST BE HAPPY

Teresa: BAHAHAHAHAHAHA DAD YOU LOOK LIKE A LEOPARD OR SOMETHING

Balducci: YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY DON’T YOU WELL IT ISN’T AND IN ANY CASE I DO LOOK LIKE A LEOPARD AND I HATE IT

*Teresa approaches the window and is immediately showered with flowers.*

TO THINK THAT OAF COULD EVER BE MY SON-IN-LAW I MEAN SERIOUSLY I WOULD RATHER BE HANGED THAN LET CELLINI MARRY YOU A CURSE ON THIS LAZY LIBERTINE FLORENTINE

Teresa: WELL DAD GET USED TO IT BECAUSE SOMEDAY HE’S GONNA BE YOUR SON-IN-LAW BECAUSE I’M GONNA MARRY HIM BECAUSE I’M COLOMBINE AND HE’S LÉANDRE AND WE’RE IN LOVE AND MEANT TO BE

I mean, me the wife of Cassandro? Could you imagine? A CURSE ON THE GUY YOU WANT ME TO MARRY ****

Cellini, Francesco, Bernardino, and Their Fellow Revellers: TRALALALALALA DE PROFUNDIS SOMETHING SOMETHING CARNIVAL WILL BURY SOMEONE TONIGHT TRALALALA ALL YOU FELLOW YOUNG ONES LIVE WELL AND NO MATTER WHO YOU ARE STOP CRYING AND ENJOY LIFE AND DRINK TO LUNDI GRAS AND TO CARNIVAL VIVA CARNIVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL

*Balducci leaves again.*

Teresa: Third time’s the charm...third time’s the charm...third time’s the charm…

*Balducci has truly left.*

FINALLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh, these are all such pretty flowers, I can’t believe they threw all of these up here just for me...

*She sees a bouquet among all the flowers scattered around.*

Ooh, this is a lovely bouquet!

*She picks it up and a note falls out.*

A note? From Cellini! Oh goodness, bold as always like that, but honestly I kinda like it.

*She opens it.*

What?! He’s coming here, tonight, for a date?! My God! Well, my dad isn’t here and he’ll be busy for a while, so this is the perfect time! What to do now…?

When you’re torn between love and duty, you have a lot of problems and angst you just want to complain about to everyone but you can’t because no one will listen to you and everyone will judge you and it really sucks. It especially sucks because you have to fear what you desire and you can’t even hope for anything good in this world. I mean, how are you supposed to pretend that you don’t feel what your heart feels and that you’re not looking at what your eyes see? Life sometimes...well, you know what? I’m not having it!

Dad, I love you, and maybe when I’m as old as you I’ll be smarter and sadder and wiser and all that, but I’m young! I’ve got my whole life ahead of me, just waiting for me to live it to the fullest! It would be such a waste to be dull and unhappy!

Someday I’ll be old, and I don’t know, be a grandma maybe, and then it’ll be fine! Love won’t matter then! But I’m young now, and I’ve got my whole life ahead of me, and I want to live it while it’s still there! *****

*Cellini enters.*

CELLINI!

*She moves a little away.*

Cellini: Teresa, it’s alright! Don’t run away!

Teresa: Cellini, I love you but I’m not sure this is gonna work.

Cellini: You’re killin’ me here!

*Noise from outside.*

Teresa: WHAT WAS THAT

Cellini: It’s fine, I promise—

Teresa: NO I’M DONE FOR AND YOU NEED TO LEAVE BECAUSE MY DAD’S PROBABLY BACK AGAIN

Cellini: No, it’s just my friends celebrating Carnival outside. I promise. It’ll be okay, don’t worry.

Oh, Teresa, you are my happiness and I love you more than life itself! I’ve learned that if I’m far away from you, I lose all hope and happiness!

*Fieramosca, who has somehow gotten into the house unnoticed, tiptoes in while holding an enormous bouquet.*

Fieramosca: You don’t win girls by breaking locks and being all macho and stuff like that; you simply sneak in on tiptoe and that’s how you steal their hearts! I mean, I guess that’s how it works.

Teresa: I love you but this is crazy! Part of me just wants to abandon all of this but a part of me deep down knows we can never see each other again…

Fieramosca: She’s not alone! I thought her dad was leaving but maybe he’s actually here? No, wait, that can’t be him—oh, I can’t believe she’s alone with another guy!

Cellini: NO I SWEAR BY ALL THE SAINTS AND THE VIRGIN THAT LOVE WILL NEVER ABANDON YOU TO FIERAMOSCA

Fieramosca: OH MY GOD IT’S CELLINI I NEED TO HIDE

Cellini: I’M NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN NEVER GONNA RUN AROUND AND DESERT YOU NEVER GONNA MAKE YOU CRY NEVER GONNA SAY GOODBYE NEVER GONNA TELL A LIE AND HURT YOU

Fieramosca: *who is now hiding...somewhere* at least pick a good song, dammit ******

Teresa: MAY MY PATRON SAINT SAVE ME FROM THE DISASTER AND SHAME OF HAVING TO MARRY FIERAMOSCA ALSO IF I HAVE TO MARRY HIM I’LL DIE

Fieramosca: ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh if only I could speak aloud or even whisper a word so they could hear me

Cellini: If I have to leave you, my life, my love, I’ll lose all hope…

Teresa: I really don’t know if this’ll work out...I want it to, but I’ll probably never be able to see you again…

Cellini: You marry FIERAMOSCA?! They want you to marry that stupid little such-and-such?!

Teresa: Me?! His WIFE?! I’D RATHER DIE THE CRUELLEST POSSIBLE DEATH A HUNDRED TIMES THAN MARRY HIM

Fieramosca: ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh if only I had my sword instead of this stupid bouquet because obviously I didn’t bring both because obviously you can’t bring both

Cellini: CHILL honey don’t go straight to dying seriously why is that every young soprano’s go-to instead let’s plan to find a way to happiness!

Teresa: And your idea is…?

Fieramosca: if only I had my sword

Cellini: ALRIGHT THEN LISTEN UP

Teresa: shhhhhhh speak more softly what if someone hears us

Cellini: well there’s no one else here but I’ll speak more softly for you

Teresa: good point about no one else being here but thanks

Cellini: So tomorrow evening, Mardi Gras celebrations—

Teresa: Tomorrow evening, at Mardi Gras—

Fieramosca: Mardi Gras?

Cellini: Don’t miss the celebration; be there at the Piazza Colonna—

Fieramosca: what are they saying I can’t hear them well

Teresa: Piazza Colonna—

Fieramosca: ohhhhhhhhhh I think they said Piazza Colonna—

Cellini: where Cassandro—

Teresa: Cassandro—

Fieramosca: Cassandro?

Cellini: Is presenting a new show—

Fieramosca: wait what I didn’t hear about that I didn’t know they were doing a new show

Cellini: While your dad is watching the show, you’ll take the arm of a monk in brown—

Teresa: the arm of a monk in brown—

Fieramosca: I didn’t catch like any of that

Cellini: and one in white—

Teresa: one in white—

Fieramosca: white?

Cellini: One will be your lover—

Teresa: You!

Fieramosca: Him?

Cellini: And the other, my apprentice—

Teresa: Your apprentice—

Fieramosca: His apprentice?

Cellini: I’ll take you away—

Teresa: You’ll take me away—

Fieramosca: wait what

Cellini: to Florence—

Teresa: To Florence!

Fieramosca: Florence?

Cellini and Teresa: We’ll go to Florence together and get married and be happy for the rest of our lives!

Fieramosca: wait WHAT

Teresa: Wait, but what about my dad? I can’t just leave him—and also isn’t this kinda an offense against God?

Cellini: What? Teresa, that’s just your Intense Catholic Guilt™ again. If anyone’s offending God around here, it’s your father because he wants to rob you of all your life and love by putting you in a convent or even worse, marrying you off to Fieramosca!

Teresa: NOT FIERAMOSCA NO I’M NOT MARRYING HIM

Fieramosca: ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh if only Balducci were here to see this

Teresa: WHO AM I KIDDING I CAN’T BEAR THE THOUGHT OF MARRYING HIM ALRIGHT I’LL DO THIS TAKE HEART WE’LL BE HAPPY TOMORROW EVENING

Cellini: Should we go over all the details of the plan again?

Teresa: YES!

Cellini: More softly, remember, Teresa, more softly like you said…

*Fieramosca moves closer in order to hear better.*

Tomorrow evening, at the Mardi Gras celebrations—

Teresa: Tomorrow evening, at Mardi Gras—

Cellini: Don’t miss the celebration—

Teresa: I won’t miss it—

Fieramosca: I most certainly won’t miss it—

Cellini: be there at the Piazza Colonna—

Teresa: Piazza Colonna—

Fieramosca: Piazza Colonna—

Cellini: where Cassandro—

Teresa: Cassandro—

Fieramosca: Cassandro—

Cellini: Is presenting a new show—

Teresa: A new show—

Fieramosca: A new show—

Cellini: While your dad is watching the show, you’ll take the arm of a monk in brown—

Teresa: the arm of a monk in brown—

Fieramosca: the arm of a monk in brown—

Cellini: and one in white—

Teresa: one in white—

Fieramosca: and one in white—

Cellini: One will be your lover—

Teresa: You!

Fieramosca: Him?

Teresa: Got it.

Cellini: And the other, my apprentice—

Teresa: Your apprentice—

Fieramosca: His apprentice!

Cellini: I’ll take you away—

Teresa: You’ll take me away—

Fieramosca: He’ll take her away! Well!

Cellini: to Florence—

Teresa: To Florence!

Fieramosca: To Florence!

Cellini and Teresa: We’ll go to Florence together and get married and be happy for the rest of our lives!

Fieramosca: THEY’LL GO TO FLORENCE TOGETHER AND GET MARRIED AND BE HAPPY FOR THE REST OF THEIR LIVES?!

Cellini: A beautiful promise! Teresa, I adore you! Love, protect her and let her make it tomorrow…

Fieramosca: YOU’RE BETRAYING ME BEWARE

Teresa: Holy Virgin, forgive me and calm my father and his anger!

Cellini and Teresa: WE’RE BOTH YOUNG AND HAPPY AND FULL OF LOVE SO WE SHOULDN’T BE RESORTING TO DEATH TO SOLVE OUR PROBLEMS ESPECIALLY NOT WHEN WE HAVE A HAPPY FUTURE ALREADY WITHIN REACH SO LET’S LEAVE THIS CITY AND FIND HAPPINESS UNDER OTHER SKIES AND HAVE HOPE AND GO TO FLORENCE

Fieramosca: YOU TRAITORS BEWARE BECAUSE I HAVE STANDARD BARITONE HATRED AND RAGE AND I WILL USE IT TO RUIN YOUR PRECIOUS LITTLE PLANS SO BEWARE

Cellini, Teresa, and Fieramosca: Tomorrow evening!

Cellini: Piazza Colonna—

Teresa: Shh!

Cellini: Near Cassandro’s theater—

Teresa: Shh!

Cellini: A monk in white—

Teresa: Yes, I’ll be there!

Fieramosca: Well then, I’ll be there too!

Cellini and Teresa: Take heart and have hope!

Cellini, Teresa, and Fieramosca: Tomorrow evening!

*Teresa hears footsteps and looks outside.*

Teresa: OH SHOOT OH SHOOT IT’S MY DAD WE’RE DONE FOR

Cellini: Are you sure?

Teresa: HE’S RIGHT OUTSIDE

Fieramosca: obviously the best solution to this problem is to hide in my fiancée’s bedroom

*Which he does.*

Cellini: Where should I go? Your bedroom?...

Teresa: NO THERE’S NOT ENOUGH TIME FOR YOU TO MAKE IT IN THERE 

Cellini: He’s coming...

Teresa: GOD HELP US

*Cellini quickly flattens himself against the wall by the door. Balducci opens the door; he is shocked to see Teresa and forgets to close it, allowing Cellini to hide between the door and the wall.*

Balducci: You’re still up? It’s really late; I thought you would be in bed by now!

Teresa: *trying to improv and pointing to her bedroom* Dad...there’s a man in there…

Balducci: A MAN?!?!

Teresa: Uh, yeah...when I went to go to bed...I heard a strange noise in there...it sounded like a man…

Balducci: A MAN?!?! I’M GONNA GO BEAT THE LIVING CRAP OUT OF WHATEVER HORRIBLE MAN DARES COME HERE AND ENTER MY DAUGHTER’S BEDROOM

*He runs into Teresa’s bedroom. Cellini comes out from his hiding place.*

Teresa: Go while I’ve bought you some time!

Cellini: Thank you, my love! See you tomorrow evening!

Teresa: See you then!

*Cellini leaves.*

Teresa: Oh, boy, I’m afraid this won’t go well.

Balducci: *from Teresa’s room* YOU BASTARD I’VE FOUND YOU

Teresa: Wait, there’s actually a man in my bedroom? Well, that’s convenient.

*Balducci drags Fieramosca, who is still holding his bouquet, out of the bedroom.*

Balducci: COME WITH ME OR ELSE I’LL KILL YOU

*He recognizes Fieramosca.*

What? You, Fieramosca?

Teresa: BAHAHAHAHA WHAT AN UNEXPECTED DEVELOPMENT

Fieramosca: First off, I wasn’t trying to rob you—

Balducci: THIS IS MUCH WORSE THAN THAT ALSO WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN MY DAUGHTER’S BEDROOM

Teresa: YEAH WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN MY BEDROOM

Fieramosca: Uh, well, it’s very simple, really...I came…

Balducci: YEAH I KNOW THAT

Fieramosca: I...I was coming just to visit.

Balducci: ‘I was coming just to visit!’ A visit, late at night, when I’m not here, HIDING IN MY DAUGHTER’S BEDROOM YOU HORRIBLE PERSON

Teresa: EXCUSE ME IT COULD HAVE LOOKED SO BAD THAT I WOULD HAVE BEEN EXCOMMUNICATED

Fieramosca: ...I’m pretty sure that that’s not how excommunication works.

Teresa: WHAT AUDACITY

Fieramosca: I swear, it’s not what it looks like—

Balducci: THAT’S WHAT THEY ALL SAY

Fieramosca: But Mr. Balducci, sir, I swear—

Balducci: THE FACTS SPEAK FOR THEMSELVES

Fieramosca: My God, you think I would be the one to do such a thing?

Balducci: Well, who else, you horrible person?

Teresa: (You traitor!)

Fieramosca: IT’S CELLINI

Teresa: CELLINI???

Balducci: CELLINI?!?!

Fieramosca: CELLINI!!!

Balducci: You call yourself Cellini! Have you lost your mind?

Fieramosca: No, no, WAIT!!!

Balducci: ENOUGH OF THIS

*He opens the window and starts yelling. Teresa also sticks her head outside and starts yelling.*

Teresa and Balducci: HEY EVERYONE GAETANA CATARINA FORNARINA PETRONILLA SCHOLASTICA AND EVERY OTHER NAME IN THE BABY BOOK COME HERE

Fieramosca: PLEASE STOP MAKING SUCH A HUGE RACKET 

*Teresa runs out the back door to call for help.*

Neighbors: *offstage* UGGGGGGGGH WHY ARE YOU NEIGHBORS FIGHTING AND MAKING SO MUCH NOISE

Balducci: A LIBERTINE IS IN MY HOUSE HE WAS HIDING IN MY DAUGHTER’S BEDROOM HELP US TEACH HIM A LESSON AND GET HIM OUT OF HERE

Neighbors: OH THAT’S A DIFFERENT STORY

Fieramosca: I’M NOT A LIBERTINE I’M A GOOD UPSTANDING PERSON PLEASE LISTEN TO ME THIS IS HIGHLY EMBARRASSING

*Balducci goes away from the window and Teresa returns.*

Teresa and Balducci: Fieramosca, you’re in good hands.

Fieramosca: THIS ISN’T AN ALLSTATE COMMERCIAL AND THIS ISN’T FUNNY

Teresa and Balducci: What’s Allstate? Oh, never mind.

Balducci: ONLY WOMEN CAN SHOW THE RIGHT WAY TO EXTRAVAGANT MEN LIKE YOURSELF

Fieramosca: Left to the mercy of women!...NO THIS IS HORRIBLE I FEEL LIKE I’M ORPHEUS BEING TORN APART BY THE BACCHANATES *******

*He tries to escape in one direction but is blocked by a large crowd of women armed with household objects.*

Neighbors: WE’RE GONNA TEACH YOU LIBERTINE A LESSON BECAUSE YOU’RE MESSING WITH A WOMAN’S HONOR SO YOU’RE GONNA TAKE A VERY UNPLEASANT BATH

*Fieramosca tries to escape in another direction but the same thing happens with a different crowd of women.*

Fieramosca: I just came here to have a good time and I honestly am feeling so attacked right now :(

Neighbors: LET’S TAKE HIM INTO THE GARDEN AND DUNK HIM IN THE HUGE FOUNTAIN YOU COWARD YOU’RE GONNA TAKE A BATH

*The same thing happens with a third crowd.*

YOU WRETCHED HONORLESS COWARD YOU’RE GONNA TAKE A BIG BATH IN THAT FOUNTAIN AND THE POND AND WE’RE GONNA LEAVE YOU THERE UNTIL MORNING YES YOU’RE GONNA BE IN THERE ALL NIGHT AND THERE’S NOTHING THAT YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU CRY LIKE THE LITTLE BABY YOU ARE

Teresa and Balducci: YEAH BEAT HIM UP AND DUNK HIM IN THE FOUNTAIN SO HE CAN LEARN A LESSON THAT HE WILL NEVER FORGET

Fieramosca: YOU SHREWS WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME I REALLY DON’T WANT TO BE STRIPPED NAKED AND DUNKED INTO THE WATER AND LEFT THERE ALL NIGHT I REALLY NEED TO GET OUT OF THIS SITUATION

*He starts running around trying to find a means of escape.*

I’M ORPHEUS AND I’M BEING TORN APART BY THE BACCHANTES HOW DARE THEY TREAT ME LIKE I’M A LIBERTINE I SWEAR I’M A MAN OF HONOR AND I REALLY JUST NEED TO RUN AWAY

*Exit, hurriedly, pursued by the neighbors. Not quite as terrifying as a bear, but close. [We later find out that they successfully caught him and dunked him in the fountain anyway.]*

Notes

Scene 2: 

Evening, Mardi Gras. A tavern on the corner of the Piazza Colonna and the Via del Corso, with a view of Cassandro’s theater. Cellini is alone.

Cellini: Teresa will be here, at the Piazza Colonna, in only one more hour! Love, on this joyous day of Mardi Gras, let my heart be the happiest of them all! And if you don’t, ah, you are ungrateful!

I used to only care about glory, the kind of crazy noble hope that only artists have, but that’s all changed now and I reject it all; Teresa alone rules my heart! Love, see what I’ve done and how I’ve changed for you: protect her and protect me!

Teresa once lived so peacefully—like a stream flowing by far from the sea, her days and years passed by, one after the other, all the same, as they were supposed to. But she loves me enough that she’s willing to give that security up, and not only that, she wants to take up my life of wandering and misery instead, just because she loves me! Love, see what she does for you: protect her and protect me! **

*Francesco, Bernardino, and a bunch of Cellini’s friends and fellow goldsmiths enter, fully ready to party.*

Everyone: ALRIGHT EVERYONE LET’S GET WASTED (or not but whatevs we just want to drink)

Bernardino: TRALALALALALALALALA I AM AN EXCELLENT SINGER TRALALALALALALA LET’S ALL SING TRALALALALALALALALA

Cellini: Very well, but for the love of everything holy, please don’t sing any of those lowbrow drinking songs or ballads about sweethearts that EVERYONE sings in taverns. Let’s sing about how awesome metalworking is—a toast to our glory!

Everyone: THE EARTH MAY GROW AWESOME STUFF ON THE SURFACE WHEN THE WEATHER IS GOOD BUT PEOPLE CAN GET METAL FROM THE BOWELS OF THE EARTH AT ANY TIME 

HONOR TO THE MASTER METALWORKERS!!!! WE CAN CREATE TREASURE FROM WHAT’S BENEATH THE EARTH ANYTIME AND ANYWHERE

WHEN THE MASTER METALWORKER WORKS, GOLD SHINES LIKE THE SUN AND RUBIES LIKE FIRE IN THE NIGHT AND EVEN THE DIAMONDS AND TOPAZES SPARKLE AT NIGHT WITH THE STARS

When the world was created, artistic genius was given to four kinds of artists, each with their own tools: the architects have stone, the painters have color, the sculptors have marble, and those are cool and all, BUT WE THE METALWORKERS HAVE GOLD

METALS, THE UNDERGROUND NEVER-FADING FLOWERS, SHINE BRIGHTEST ON THE BROWS OF ALL THE GREATEST PEOPLE—THE KINGS AND QUEENS AND DUKES AND EMPERORS AND EVEN POPES—SO HONOR TO THE MASTER METALWORKERS

Bernardino: HEY everyone let’s have a moment of silence

Cellini: For what?

Bernardino: BEFORE WE START SINGING AGAIN LET’S ALL GET SOME MORE DRINKS

Everyone Else: YEAH WE NEED MORE WINE BECAUSE WE ALREADY DRANK WHAT WE GOT HEY TAVERN OWNER COME HERE

*The tavern owner, who is (probably) super-annoyed with everyone and definitely needs a nice vacay, comes in.*

Tavern Owner: uggggggggggggh whaddya want?

Everyone Else: WE WANT WINE

Tavern Owner: WE’RE OUT THANK YOU

Cellini: THIS IS LITERALLY A TAVERN HOW COULD YOU BE OUT OF WINE

Tavern Owner: Well, actually, we’re technically not out of wine but you’ve already had too much and if you want to drink more…

Everyone Else: Then...?

Tavern Owner: ...you need to pay up for the wine you’ve already had.

Everyone Else: Well, what do we owe you?

*The tavern owner gets out an exceedingly long list.*

Tavern Owner: Well, you asked for it, so here’s the whole long list of everything you bought:

First, white wines: Orvieto and Aleatico and Maraschino—that’s thirty.

Everyone Else: Thirty already?

Tavern Owner: Next up, reds: Ischia and Procida and Nisita—that makes sixty.

Everyone Else: wait SIXTY BOTTLES

Tavern Owner: And that’s not the half. There’s also Asti sparkling wine, Lipari wine, Lacryma-Christi (Jesus, you people drink a lot of the dude’s tears)—which brings the total to exactly one hundred and thirty bottles of wine.

Everyone Else: ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY BOTTLES SWEET JESUS WHO THE HELL BOUGHT THAT MANY

Tavern Owner: ...You people did. Not my problem.

Cellini: EVEN THE TRUMPETS OF THE LAST JUDGMENT WOULD BE LESS SCARY THAN THE VOICE AND THE LIST OF THE TAVERN OWNER

Francesco, Bernardino, and Cellini’s Friends and Workers: YEAH THIS IS HORRIBLE

Cellini: Hmm, how do we get out of this sticky situation?

Francesco, Bernardino, and Cellini’s Friends and Workers: LET’S BEAT UP THE TAVERN OWNER

Cellini: Nah. Let’s think about this.

Francesco, Bernardino, and Cellini’s Friends and Workers: awwwwwwww but we wanted to beat him up

*The tavern owner runs off.*

Cellini: Maybe Ascanio will save us!

*Ascanio, who is apparently well-versed in reality shows, comes in at that exact moment with a bag of money.*

Everyone: HURRAY THERE HE IS HE’S COME TO SAVE US LONG LIVE ASCANIO

*Cellini runs over to greet him.*

Cellini: THERE YOU ARE I’M SO GLAD TO SEE YOU LET’S CHAT AND LET ME HAVE THE MONEY IT LOOKS LIKE THE POPE GAVE YOU FOR THE STATUE

Ascanio: Hold on, wait a sec! I’m ready to drink as much as any of you, but first I need to tell you something very important.

This is indeed from the Pope: it’s advance money for the casting of the Perseus statue, which everyone on the Italian peninsula is waiting for with baited breath! There’s one condition attached, though: you must have the statue done tomorrow. I need your oath. ***

Cellini: Tomorrow? Very well, nothing I can’t handle. I swear it.

Francesco, Bernardino, and Cellini’s Friends and Workers: AND WE SWEAR IT TOO SINCE WE’RE GONNA HELP CAST IT

Everyone: WE GIVE OUR WORD THAT THE STATUE WILL BE CAST TOMORROW WITHOUT ANY DELAY

Ascanio: Alright, now I can feel good about giving you this money since you’ve all promised. I hear you have to pay off a bill; here you go.

*Cellini empties the bag and examines the contents, visibly disappointed.*

Cellini: That’s IT???

Francesco and Bernardino: That’s practically nothing!

Ascanio: Hey, not my fault that Balducci is an old, grouchy fool.

Cellini: Well, he doesn’t like me anyway, and at least this is definitely enough to pay the bill. Waiter!

*The tavern owner comes back. Cellini mimics his nasal voice.*

Here’s your precious money to pay off your precious bill!

*The tavern owner, trembling, accepts the money.*

Tavern Owner: FINALLY THANK YOU do you want to drink?

Everyone Else: YEAH GET US SOME MORE WINE

*He goes off.*

Cellini: HEY EVERYONE I HAVE THE BEST IDEA TO GET REVENGE ON BALDUCCI FOR PAYING ME SO BADLY so I know that Balducci is coming to see Cassandro’s show at the Carnival celebrations tonight so since we’re buddies with Cassandro and his troupe whaddya say to paying the troupe to make fun of Balducci in the show tonight and even maybe getting in on shaming and humiliating him ourselves???

Everyone Else: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY THAT SOUNDS AWESOME

Cellini: ANATHEMA ON GIACOMO BALDUCCI

Everyone Else: YEAH HE CAN GO SUCK IT MEANWHILE WE’RE GONNA MAKE ALL OF ROME LAUGH AT HIM SO LET’S GO TO CASSANDRO’S

Everyone: GLORY TO US LET’S SING THE SONG ABOUT HOW AWESOME METALWORKERS ARE AGAIN

Cellini: Just the last part—that’s the best verse!

Everyone: METALS, THE UNDERGROUND NEVER-FADING FLOWERS, SHINE BRIGHTEST ON THE BROWS OF ALL THE GREATEST PEOPLE—THE KINGS AND QUEENS AND DUKES AND EMPERORS AND EVEN POPES—SO HONOR TO THE MASTER METALWORKERS

*Fieramosca, who has been spying on all this, comes out of his hiding place.*

Fieramosca: IT’S TOO MUCH ALL THIS SHAMELESS PLOTTING AND I WON’T LET HIM GET AWAY WITH THIS ****

*Pompeo casually strolls in.*

Pompeo: Hey, what’s up with you?

Fieramosca: WHAT’S UP WITH ME??? MY LIFE IS FALLING APART AND I’M FILLED WITH RAGE BECAUSE CELLINI—

Pompeo: oh what did he do NOW

*Fieramosca runs over to Pompeo and embraces him.*

Fieramosca: POMPEO MY DEAR FRIEND MY SAVIOR

Pompeo: oh wait I heard what happened to you yesterday.

Fieramosca: You know? I haven’t even told you yet!

Pompeo: Everyone knows. You got beaten up and dunked into a fountain.

Fieramosca: PLEASE DON’T TALK ABOUT IT DEAR POMPEO ANYWAY THE WHOLE SITUATION GETS MUCH WORSE

Pompeo: How so?

Fieramosca: TERESA AND HER DAD ARE GONNA SEE CASSANDRO’S SHOW AT CARNIVAL TONIGHT

Pompeo: ...I fail to see the problem.

Fieramosca: THE PROBLEM IS THAT WHILE THE SHOW’S GOING ON AND BALDUCCI’S DISTRACTED A WHITE FRIAR AND A CAPUCHIN ARE GOING TO CARRY OFF MY FIANCÉE

Pompeo: Bravo!

Fieramosca: YOU’RE MISSING THE POINT THE WHITE FRIAR IS CELLINI AND THE CAPUCHIN IS HIS APPRENTICE ASCANIO

Pompeo: Bravo!

Fieramosca: ...Excuse me?

Pompeo: Long live boldness!

Fieramosca: I don’t care what happens to me but I’m going to tell Mr. Balducci about this plan and we’ll see if he cries ‘Bravo!’

Pompeo: oh my goodness you IDIOT do you not get it

Fieramosca: What?

Pompeo: I love you, but since you’re obviously not the sharpest tool in the shed, let me explain it to you in small words so you can understand: since you know his plan, use the plan yourself.

Fieramosca: but HOW

Pompeo: omg this is so frustrating you dress up as a White Friar and I dress up as a Capuchin and we get there before Cellini and Ascanio 

Fieramosca: good idea BUT WHAT IF CELLINI SEES ME HE’S GONNA KILL ME

Pompeo: DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT YOU HAVE ME AND I’M A PRO AT THIS

Fieramosca: Very well.

WHO CAN STAND UP TO ME WAS I NOT BORN TO FIGHT WOE TO THE MAN WHO DARES CROSS ME AND EVEN MORE WOE TO THE MAN WHO DARES MOCK ME BECAUSE I’M AS QUICK TO A SWORD AS TO ANGER HERE’S A QUARTE HERE’S A TIERCE LONG LIVE FENCING WHICH (aside from sculpting and getting humiliated by my fiancée and the guy she likes I guess) IS MY BEST SKILL *****

TERESA MY HEART IS BURNING FOR YOU LIKE MOUNT VESUVIUS BECAUSE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THAT IF YOU WANTED ME TO I’D MAKE WAR ON HELL AND EVERYONE IN IT AND I’D EVEN FIGHT CELLINI AND NOT EVEN A HUNDRED CELLINIS COULD KNOCK ME DOWN

NO!  NO ONE CAN STAND UP TO ME WAS I NOT BORN TO FIGHT WOE TO THE MAN WHO DARES CROSS ME AND EVEN MORE WOE TO THE MAN WHO DARES MOCK ME BECAUSE I’M AS QUICK TO A SWORD AS TO ANGER HERE’S A QUARTE HERE’S A TIERCE LONG LIVE FENCING WHICH IS MY BEST SKILL

*He grabs his sword or some other random object and starts mock-swordfighting. Popping random balloons is optional but strongly encouraged.*

ONE TWO THREE ONE TWO THREE THRUST PARRY ONE TWO ONE...DEAD! I MERCILESSLY STAB HIM THROUGH THE HEART AND I AM VICTORIOUS

Pompeo: Bravo! Now let’s go. The party’s almost starting.

Fieramosca: Dear Pompeo, let me embrace you!

*They hug.*

Pompeo: Now let’s get a couple habits from...somewhere. Don’t be afraid. Everything will go just fine.

*They leave together.*

Notes

Scene 3:

The Piazza Colonna a short time later, with Cassandro’s theater and everything decked out for Carnival.

Balducci: I really hope you appreciate that I’m taking you to the theater at your request, even though you know that all I do at the theater is complain about the actors and you know that I don’t like theater anyway. Anyway, let’s see what weird new show all the kids these days are talking about.

*He goes to read the advertisement for the show, leaving Teresa alone.*

Teresa: What should I do? Could I really leave my old father alone and break his heart?

*She goes over to her father. Cellini, dressed in a white habit, and Ascanio, dressed in a brown habit, enter.* **

Cellini and Ascanio: let’s keep our project on the down-low and let the troupers distract Balducci and then work together and get Teresa and then go to the notary!

Teresa: Could I really leave my father behind? Then again, maybe, when we get married, he’ll learn to accept it!

Balducci: I REALLY HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS BECAUSE I KNOW I WON’T

Cellini and Ascanio: let’s let this plan play out!

*The four of them get lost in the crowd.*

Revellers: HEY EVERYONE CASSANDRO IS PRESENTING A NEW SHOW SO STICK AROUND AND SEE IF IT’S FUNNY BECAUSE IF IT’S NOT WE’LL BOO OUR HEADS OFF

*A group of dancers with tambourines enters, along with Francesco, Bernardino, and the members of Cassandro’s troupe. Teresa and even Balducci get mixed in with the dancers. People mingle in the square and start to join in with the dancing.*

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: HEY EVERYONE COME HERE COME SEE THIS AWESOME NEW SHOW

Revellers: BRAVO BRAVO

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: HEY EVERYONE COME SEE CASSANDRO AND HIS AWESOME NEW SHOW

Revellers: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY BRAVO BRAVO

IT’S DARK BUT WE’RE ALL SO HAPPY AND THE CITY IS SO NOISY AND WE’RE ALL IN LOVE AND A LITTLE BIT DRUNK HOW COULD YOU BE SAD

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: C’MON COME SEE THE SHOW

Revellers: HEY MUSICIANS PLAY ON WE LOVE YOUR MOOD

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: HEY EVERYONE WE DON’T CARE IF YOU’RE A DOCTOR OR A JOKER COME SEE OUR AWESOME SHOW

Revellers: LONG LIVE JOY LET’S DROWN IN JOY LET’S DRINK AND SING AND DANCE

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: ALL YOU MASQUERADERS COME SEE THE SHOW TOO

Teresa and Revellers: CARNIVAL IS A HUGE PARTY WHERE EVERYONE IS HAPPY AND THE WORLD TURNS UPSIDE DOWN

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: HEY EVERYONE WE’RE GONNA KEEP SAYING IT COME SEE OUR AWESOME NEW SHOW

Revellers: WHO ELSE IS EXCITED ABOUT THIS NEW SHOW

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: DON’T GO AWAY BECAUSE CARNIVAL AIN’T COMPLETE WITHOUT US AND OUR AWESOME SHOWS

Some of the Revellers: KEEP YELLING AT US IF YOU WANT BUT WE THINK DANCING’S MORE FUN SORRY NOT SORRY

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: WE DON’T CARE ABOUT WHAT YOU STUPID DANCERS THINK EVERYONE COME SEE THE SHOW

Teresa and Revellers: WE LOVE TO DANCE AND ALL THE WORLD IS A BALL SO LET’S DANCE WHILE WE CAN

Francesco, Bernardino, and Troupers: EVERYONE COME SEE OUR NEW SHOW CASSANDRO’S AWESOME AND YOUR DANCING IS STUPID

Revellers: WHAT A BEAUTIFUL NIGHT CARNIVAL IS A HUGE PARTY THAT MAKES THE CITY BURN WITH DELIGHT AND THE WORLD TURN UPSIDE DOWN

*The trumpeters signal the beginning of the show. Most of the people take seats near the stage, including Teresa and Balducci. Cellini and Ascanio grab seats on the left. Fieramosca (dressed in white) and Pompeo (dressed in brown) find seats on the right.*

Men: HEY EVERYONE STOP DANCING THE SHOW’S ABOUT TO START

Women: YEAH EVERYONE BE QUIET THE SHOW’S STARTING

*The curtain of the theater rises to reveal four actors onstage: a man dressed like the Pope, a man dressed like Balducci sitting on a throne, and two men dressed like Swiss Guards and holding money and laurels.*

People: LOOK THERE’S THE POPE AND HIS TREASURER BALDUCCI

Balducci: OH SO THIS IS HOW IT IS THEY’RE GONNA MOCK ME ONSTAGE HUH

Teresa: oh no oh no let’s go, Dad!

Balducci: Well, I paid to see this stupid show so I might as well stay here and see the whole thing and see myself get completely and utterly humiliated. After this, though, I'm going to go speak to the Pope about how the people are making fun of us and about the utter blasphemy they’re committing!

People: HEY YOU OVER THERE SHUT UP WE CAN’T HEAR THE SHOW

Cellini: Hey, Ascanio, do you see Teresa?

Ascanio: She’s over there.

Fieramosca: Hey, Pompeo, do you see Teresa?

Pompeo: She’s over there.

Teresa: this is the most embarrassing thing ever

People: HEY EVERYONE SHUT UP

Balducci: BUT I DON’T WANNA SHUT UP

People: CAN IT

*Colombine enters.*

Colombine: HEY EVERYONE OUR SHOW’S STARTING AND WE HAVE A TREAT FOR YOU BECAUSE HARLEQUIN AND PIERROT ARE GONNA COMPETE IN THE ITALIAN PENINSULA’S GOT TALENT TO SEE WHO’S THE BETTER SINGER ***

People: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY

*The actors playing Harlequin and Pierrot enter.*

Some People: HARLEQUIN IS BEING PLAYED BY THE BEST TENOR IN ROME

Other People: PIERROT IS BEING PLAYED BY A SINGER FROM TUSCANY BUT IS HE ACTUALLY A MAN OR JUST AN ASS

Women: PLEASE BE QUIET HARLEQUIN IS ABOUT TO SING

Men: YOU BE QUIET

*Harlequin (in pantomime) sings and accompanies himself on the lyre. Some people continue talking; the fake Balducci falls asleep.*

Men: Well done! Bravo! You damn chatterboxes need to shut up!

Women: YOU HAVE TO WATCH HARLEQUIN HE’S BEING PLAYED BY ROME’S FINEST TENOR

Everyone: HE’S SUCH A GOOD SINGER AND HE’S DOING SO WELL EVEN THOUGH TECHNICALLY HE’S NOT ACTUALLY SINGING

*Harlequin’s section comes to an end. Pierrot (again, in pantomime) sings and accompanies himself on the bass drum. The people all listen attentively; the fake Balducci wakes up and, delighted, beats to the time of the music.*

Some People: LOOK HOW MUCH THE OLD TREASURER IS ENJOYING THIS

Balducci: THIS HAS GONE TOO FAR I NEED TO SPEAK TO THE MANAGER OF THIS

Some People: STOP BEING SUCH A KAREN

Balducci: WHAT’S A KAREN

Some People: NEVER MIND YOU’RE TOO FOOLISH TO UNDERSTAND

Other People: HAHAHAHAHA THE OLD MAN IS SO HAPPY HAHAHAHAHAHA

*When the song is over, Harlequin and Pierrot both wait, expecting the prize. The fake Balducci gives a small coin to Harlequin, who is visibly disappointed, and then gives the rest of the money to Pierrot.*

People: Well, when the judge has an ass’s ears…

Balducci: SCREW YOU ALL I DEMAND TO SEE THE MANAGER OF THIS OPERATION

Teresa: please be quiet you’re only making them laugh louder

*The fake Balducci gives the laurel wreath to Pierrot. Harlequin then hits both of the other actors with a wooden sword. Colombine unsuccessfully attempts to intervene.*

People: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY BRAVI THIS IS THE BEST SHOW EVER

Balducci: FINE SINCE I CAN’T SPEAK TO THE MANAGER I’M GONNA TAKE THIS INTO MY OWN HANDS

*He jumps up from his seat, runs onstage, and begins attacking the comedians with his cane.*

Teresa: oh my GOD DAD STOP BEING SUCH A KAREN

People: LONG LIVE CARNIVAL BRAVI THE ORIGINAL AND THE ACTOR ARE FACE TO FACE SO NOW WE GET TO SEE WHICH IS UGLIER

*Some of the people stay to watch the fight between Balducci and the comedians, while others go back to dancing and mingling. Several people carrying moccoli (little candles often carried at Carnival) mix with the crowd. People keep blowing out and relighting the moccoli. Several coaches are bearing torches; these are blown out from apartment windows above by people bearing large bellows. Cellini, Ascanio, Fieramosca, and Pompeo make their way through the crowd, trying to find Teresa. In general, it’s absolute pandemonium; what else would you expect?* ****

Cellini and Fieramosca: *to their respective assistants* Come on, let’s push our way through this huge crowd and get Teresa!

*Teresa has made her way downstage and is looking for Cellini and Ascanio when she sees, but does not definitively recognize, them.*

Teresa: OH HEY I THINK THAT’S CELLINI WITH ASCANIO

*She sees Fieramosca and Pompeo in their disguises but does not recognize them.*

WAIT WHAT WHY IS THERE ANOTHER WHITE FRIAR AND CAPUCHIN MONK DUO WHAT ON EARTH IS THIS

Fieramosca: HI IT’S ME

Cellini: HI IT’S ME

Teresa: WHICH ONE IS THE ORIGINAL

Revellers: MOCCOLI MOCCOLI MOCCOLI

Cellini and Fieramosca: IT’S ME COME WITH ME

Revellers: MOCCOLI MOCCOLI MOCCOLI

Other Revellers: YOU MOCCOLI PEOPLE ARE SO ANNOYING

Revellers: MOCCOLI MOCCOLI IT KINDA RHYMES WITH BROCCOLI MOCCOLI MOCCOLI

Cellini: THERE’S ANOTHER MONK HERE THERE’S SOME TREACHERY AFOOT GOD DAMN IT

Pompeo: C’MON FIERAMOSCA WE CAN DO THIS DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT

Fieramosca: this is the worst plan EVER

Pompeo: KEEP GOING ANYWAY

Ascanio: WE NEED TO AVENGE THIS TREACHERY

Pompeo: SERIOUSLY FIERAMOSCA I LOVE YOU BUT PLEASE STOP WORRYING ABOUT THIS

*Cellini draws his sword.*

Cellini: I DON’T CARE WHO YOU ARE YOU ASKED FOR IT BECAUSE IT SEEMS LIKE YOU’RE TRYING TO KIDNAP MY GIRLFRIEND

Fieramosca: POMPEO PLEASE COME OVER HERE AND HELP ME OUT BECAUSE I’M GETTING SCARED

Ascanio: *running after Fieramosca* I WILL GET YOU

*Ascanio, Fieramosca, and Pompeo all draw their swords. Cellini fights Pompeo; Ascanio fights Fieramosca.*

Teresa: FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE SOMEONE STOP THIS

*Some of the revellers unsuccessfully attempt to restrain the four fighters.*

Revellers: HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND IT’S CARNIVAL THIS ISN’T A TIME FOR FIGHTING

Cellini: NO I HAVEN’T LOST MY MIND

Teresa: EVERYONE STOP IT

Fieramosca: *running away from Ascanio* SOMEONE HELP ME

Pompeo: KEEP GOING

Cellini: YOU ARE NOT GETTING AWAY WITH THIS

Fieramosca: SERIOUSLY SOMEONE HELP ME

Cellini: NO YOU’RE NOT GETTING AWAY WITH THIS NO

*He runs Pompeo through with his sword. Everyone immediately stops what they’re doing and screams.*

Pompeo: I WOULD LIKE TO ANNOUNCE THAT I AM DEAD

*He dies.*

People: OH SHIT A DUDE JUST GOT MURDERED FIRE POLICE AMBULANCE

*Balducci, in a state of disarray from the fight, returns.*

Balducci: GOOD LORD THERE’S A DEAD MAN WHERE’S MY DAUGHTER

*Guards arrive. Fieramosca runs over to Pompeo’s body, checking behind him because he believes that Ascanio is still following him.*

Fieramosca: HELP ME....OH MY GOD POMPEO’S DEAD NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

People: *pointing to Cellini* ARREST THAT FRIAR HE DID IT AND HIS SWORD STILL HAS THAT DUDE’S BLOOD ALL OVER IT

*Cellini is arrested. Everyone gathers around him.*

Cellini: I’M DONE FOR

Fieramosca: I’m saved…

Francesco and Bernardino: THEY CAUGHT OUR MASTER

Ascanio: MY POOR MASTER DOESN’T DESERVE THIS

Fieramosca: WE GOT ‘IM

Teresa: WHY IS FATE SO CRUEL

Teresa, Balducci, Francesco, and the Troupers: THIS IS THE WORST NIGHT EVER

Women: Such a good man killed…

Men: A KNAVE DID THIS

*Cellini’s friends and assistants pretend not to recognize him in order to more effectively set up their plan.*

Fieramosca, Balducci, Francesco, Bernardino, and People: HOW COULD THIS MAN MURDER A CAPUCHIN THAT’S LIKE THE WORST THING EVER HE’S PROBABLY A BANDIT FROM THE COUNTRYSIDE OR A SPURNED LOVER OR SOMETHING KEEP A GOOD GRIP ON HIM

Teresa: HE RUINED HIMSELF FOR MY SAKE I FEEL AWFUL I DIDN’T KNOW THIS WAS GONNA HAPPEN BUT I STILL FEEL AWFUL ALSO HOW DARE YOU PEOPLE TREAT HIM LIKE A MONSTER

Cellini: THIS IS THE WORST NIGHT EVER HOW DARE YOU PEOPLE TREAT ME LIKE A MONSTER

Ascanio: MY DEAR MASTER I CAN’T BELIEVE THEY’RE DOING THIS TO YOU AND TREATING YOU LIKE A MONSTER

*Suddenly, the cannon of the Castel di Sant’Angelo booms three times. As presumably per end-of-Carnival tradition, everyone blows out their candles and torches, plunging the square into darkness.* *****

Cellini: MY FRIENDS HELP ME I’VE BEEN CAUGHT

*Francesco, Bernardino, and others create a large commotion. In the general confusion caused by that, the darkness, and the booming of the cannon, Cellini pushes his way through the crowd and escapes.*

People: WE CAN’T SEE ANYTHING

Fieramosca, Balducci, and Chorus: HEY GUARDS DO YOU STILL HAVE HIM

Guards: NO WE DON’T HELP US

People: BUT YOU’RE THE ONES WHO WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE HIM

Teresa, Ascanio, Francesco, Bernardino, and Cellini’s Other Friends and Workers: THANK GOODNESS HE ESCAPED

Fieramosca and Balducci: WHAT THE H-E-DOUBLE-HOCKEYSTICKS WE JUST HAD HIM

Teresa, Ascanio, Francesco, Bernardino, and Cellini’s Other Friends and Workers: THANK YOU CANNON FOR SOUNDING AT JUST THE RIGHT TIME SO HE COULD ESCAPE

Fieramosca, Balducci, and People: CURSE YOU STUPID CANNON WE JUST HAD HIM WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GO OFF NOW

Balducci: TERESA COME HERE

Teresa: DAD—

Ascanio: *grabbing Teresa’s arm* HEY TERESA IT’S ME ASCANIO COME WITH ME

*The two of them make their way through the crowd, trying to avoid Fieramosca and Balducci.*

People: OH GOD THE MURDERER ESCAPED WE JUST HAD HIM AND NOW WE CAN’T SEE A THING AND HE’S GOTTEN AWAY WITH IT

Balducci: TERESA WHERE ARE YOU IT’S SO DARK AND NOISY OUT AND I CAN’T SEE A THING

Fieramosca: CURSE THIS STUPID CANNON WE JUST HAD HIM BUT NOW THERE’S A MURDERER ON THE RUN AND IT’S SO DARK AND NOISY OUT SO I CAN’T SEE A THING

Teresa and Ascanio: IT’S SO NOISY OUT BUT HE’S GOTTEN AWAY SO THAT’S GOOD

People: THIS IS GETTING WAY TOO CRAZY AND IT’S JUST PLAIN CHAOS

*In the midst of the chaos, Balducci bumps into Fieramosca.*

Balducci: IT’S HIM IT’S THE MONK IN WHITE

Fieramosca: wait WHAT

Balducci: I GOT HIM

Fieramosca: EXCUSE ME WHAT THE HELL IS THIS

Guards: WE’RE COMING

*They arrest Fieramosca.*

Balducci: KEEP A GOOD GRIP ON HIM

People: THEY GOT HIM

Balducci: TERESA WHERE ARE YOU

Teresa, Ascanio, Francesco, Bernardino, and Cellini’s Other Friends and Workers: HAHAHAHA THEY GOT FIERAMOSCA THAT’S EXCELLENT

Fieramosca: BUT I’M NOT—

People: TAKE HIM AWAY

Fieramosca: YOU’RE MISTAKING ME FOR SOMEONE ELSE

Guards and People: LET’S TAKE CARE OF THIS MURDERER

Fieramosca: BUT MY NAME IS FIERAMOSCA

Guards: LET’S GO OFF TO PRISON

Balducci: SERIOUSLY TERESA WHERE ARE YOU

Several People, One At A Time, Around the Square: THEY CAUGHT HIM

Fieramosca: I SWEAR TO GOD I’M FIERAMOSCA

Teresa, Ascanio, Francesco, and Some People: YOU MURDERER WE’LL HAVE YOU HANGED RIGHT AWAY YOU’RE NOT GETTING AWAY WITH THIS

Balducci, Bernardino, and Other People: WHY WOULD YOU MURDER A CAPUCHIN ON THE EVE OF ASH WEDNESDAY WE’LL HAVE YOU HANGED RIGHT AWAY YOU’RE NOT GETTING AWAY WITH THIS

Fieramosca: I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU ALL WANT TO THROW ME IN PRISON AND HANG ME LISTEN TO ME I DIDN’T MURDER ANYONE I AM A GOOD CITIZEN OF ROME AND MY NAME IS FIERAMOSCA

Everyone: OH GOD I’M SUFFOCATING GIVE ME SOME ROOM LET ME OUT OF HERE WE’LL NEVER MAKE IT OUT OF HERE

Balducci: I CAN’T FIND MY DAUGHTER TERESA

Teresa and Ascanio: C’MON LET’S GO WE NEED TO STICK TOGETHER

Fieramosca: OH GOD I’M SUFFOCATING DON’T STRANGLE ME

Everyone: OH GOD YOU’RE CRUSHING ME THIS IS A LIVING HELL ON EARTH AND ALSO COMPLETE AND UTTER CHAOS AND WE’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO GET OUT

*Teresa and Ascanio run off. Fieramosca is led off by the guards. In a panic, everyone else tries to push their way out of the square.*

Notes

Also, a collection of several artistic portrayals of the Piazza Colonna and Carnival in Rome!

Act II:

Scene 1:

Early morning, Ash Wednesday. Cellini’s workshop. Various creations of Cellini’s are scattered around. On the right is a plaster model of the Perseus statue. At the back is a door, with one window on each side. The windows look out onto the street.

*Teresa and Ascanio run in. Teresa starts looking out one of the windows while Ascanio closes the door.*

Teresa: Oh God, what’s happened to Cellini? Where could he be?

Ascanio: He’ll be here soon, Teresa. Don’t worry about it.

Teresa: NO I SWEAR HE’S BEEN CAUGHT OR HE’S DEAD

Ascanio: No, he’s alright, listen to me; he’s not the kind of guy who could get caught by the Pope’s men or the law.

Teresa: But why hasn’t he made it here yet?

*A group of White Friars (a Carmelite order of monks) starts to pass by.*

White Friars: Vas spirituale, Maria, sancta mater, ora pro nobis…

*For the sake of concision, the White Friars continue chanting intermittently in much the same vein for the next few minutes.* **

Ascanio: Listen!

*He runs over to a window and looks out.*

Teresa: Is it him?

*Ascanio comes back.*

Ascanio: Unfortunately, no. That song is just a group of monks passing by and chanting prayers as they go off to their holy works.

Teresa: This hurts too much!

Ascanio: Take heart.

Teresa: We must pray!

Teresa and Ascanio: Alright, then.

*They kneel.*

Holy Virgin, star of the morning, smile and shed some light on us...

*The White Friars pass by the door at this point; their voices gradually fade as they move away.*

Holy Virgin, star of the morning, have mercy and bring Cellini safely back to us!

*Cellini, still dressed in his white habit (which is now covered in blood) runs in.*

Cellini: HEY I’M HERE

Teresa and Ascanio: CELLINI THANK GOODNESS YOU’RE HERE

*They run over to him.*

Teresa: You aren’t wounded, are you?

Cellini: No, thank God, but I did get a bit frazzled along the way.

Ascanio: You? Frazzled?

Cellini: It took all my luck to get out of all that craziness and certain arrest.

Teresa and Ascanio: What happened?

Cellini: Okay, here goes, I bet you’ve never heard anything like this:

SO it was really dark and I had my dagger and I was running through this huge crowd and I got out and I kept running because there was this huge mob chasing after me and yelling for my blood because yeah of course they were and I was still wearing this habit—

Ascanio: Couldn’t you have just taken it off?

Cellini: DON’T INTERRUPT MY STORY anyway just in the nick of time I saw a building with the door open and I hid behind the door and they still kept running because they didn’t see me so I closed the door and then I thought about Teresa and blessed my patron saint and then I felt really weak and the ground started shaking under me and then I fainted

Teresa: OOH WHAT HAPPENED NEXT I’M REALLY SCARED BUT ALSO VERY INTRIGUED

Ascanio: ...I’m not buying it also how come SHE gets to interrupt your story

Cellini: Ascanio, I think very highly of you but you’re not my girlfriend ANYWAY I woke up a while later and it was dawn and the rooftops were covered in beautiful light and the roosters were crowing and people were walking around everywhere and I had no idea how I was going to get home but a bunch of friars dressed like me happened to pass by so I slipped in and they happened to pass by here so I slipped out AND NOW I’M HERE AND SO ARE YOU ***

Teresa: And may God never separate us again!

Ascanio: Uh, guys, I hate to break it to you but one of you is still wanted for murder and the other’s dad is probably looking for us as we speak so we’re not out of danger yet.

Cellini: You’re right. We have to go NOW.

Teresa: We have to go? We should just try hiding out—

Cellini: No, we have to go NOW.

Ascanio: BUT YOU STILL HAVE A STATUE TO FINISH

Cellini: TO HELL WITH MY STATUE AND THE POPE AND THE LAW WE JUST NEED TO RUN AWAY TO FLORENCE ASCANIO GO GET US A HORSE

Ascanio: Very well. You can count on me and I’ll be back here as soon as I can.

*He leaves.*

Teresa: My love, God is on our side! After everything, we’re here together, which is the proof that God has blessed us...

Cellini: Yes! Let’s enjoy this moment, our love, the brief moment of peace we have now before we have to flee…

Teresa: YESTERDAY WAS PLAIN AWFUL

Cellini: You can say that again.

Teresa: YESTERDAY WAS PLAIN AWFUL

Cellini: BUT THAT’S NOT NOW THAT’S THEN

Teresa: You’re right; it’s a new day that’ll dry our tears…

Cellini: Even though the future may be dark…

Teresa: ...we have peace and love and happiness!

Cellini: Let’s live and let death come when it will!

Teresa: But first take off the habit. You can’t be seen in it.

*Cellini takes off his habit and puts it on a chair.*

Cellini: There we go. Time is running out, but first...how about a mock swordfight?

Teresa: I AM SO DOWN CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON

*They start mock-swordfighting.*

Cellini: Ah, brava! What bravery, my squire!

Teresa: Put on your breastplate!

*The fight comes to an end.*

Cellini and Teresa: GOD HAS BLESSED US SO WE’LL BE OKAY NO MATTER WHAT BECAUSE HE HAS BLESSED ALL OUR WISHES ****

You know, when eagles in the mountains hear their friends being captured, what do they do? They stick together and help each other out and yell their war cries and help each other escape! And they fly far away despite everything, even being shot at! LET’S DO THE SAME THING AND RUN AWAY TO FLORENCE WE’LL BRAVE EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE EVEN THE VATICAN LET’S GO

*Ascanio runs in, in a state of panic.*

Ascanio: HEY SIR DEAR SIR WE HAVE A BIT OF A PROBLEM

Cellini: What is it?

Ascanio: BALDUCCI AND FIERAMOSCA ARE HERE I JUST SAW THEM THROUGH THE WINDOW

Teresa: OH SHOOT IT’S MY DAD

Cellini: Don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of this.

*He helps Teresa hide behind the model of Perseus.*

Ascanio: THERE THEY ARE

*Balducci and Fieramosca enter. Fieramosca sees Cellini and immediately starts backing towards the door, but Balducci goes to confront Cellini with his cane.*

Balducci: AT LAST I HAVE FOUND YOU, YOU MURDERER AND SEDUCER AND BRIGAND AND AT THIS POINT I’M JUST GOING TO CALL YOU EVERY NOT-NICE THING IN THE BOOK BECAUSE I’M JUST FED UP WITH AND SEVERELY PO’D AT YOU

Cellini: Oh excuse me, Mr. Giacomo, I didn’t realize that you could just show up at my house and start making such a ruckus. What’s gotten into you?

Balducci: YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS ABOUT GIVE ME BACK MY DAUGHTER I KNOW SHE’S HERE SO GIVE HER BACK OR ELSE I WILL BEAT YOU UP WITH THI—

Cellini: DON’T EVEN THI—

*Teresa runs out and falls on her knees before her father.*

Teresa: DAD I’M SORRY NOW I’M KNEELING BEFORE YOU

Balducci: ahhhhhhhhhhh THERE you are so let me get this straight: you honor your beloved mother by running away from me and planning to escape with, of all things, A KNOWN MURDERER wow who would’ve thought that you, of all people, could be such a horrible person?

Teresa: DAD JUST LISTEN TO ME

Cellini: Your daughter would NEVER—

Teresa: YEAH DAD I WOULD NEVER

Cellini: I’ll say it: I’m the only guilty party here.

Balducci: That’s a load of BS coming from you; I know what I know about you…

Cellini: Which is…?

Balducci: uh...NEVER MIND ANYWAY TERESA GO HOME

*Cellini steps in between Balducci and Teresa.*

Cellini: STOP I LOVE YOUR DAUGHTER

Balducci: WHAT DOES THAT MATTER

Cellini: AND SHE LOVES ME

Balducci: WELL TOO BAD SO SAD

Cellini: THIS IS THE FASTEST WAY TO RUIN YOUR FAMILY’S HONOR

Balducci: THAT DOESN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE ALSO YOU TWO ARE BREAKING UP EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY

Cellini: THAT’S NOT HOW THIS WORKS

Teresa: DAD STOP IT

Balducci: TERESA WE ARE LEAVING

Teresa: CELLINI HELP ME OUT HERE

Cellini: DON’T WORRY TERESA I GOT YOU

Balducci: Fieramosca, come claim your wife!

Everyone Else [yes, including Fieramosca]: wait WHAT

*Fieramosca timidly goes over to Teresa.*

Fieramosca: uhhhhh so I guess this is a thing now so uhhhhhh let’s leave

Cellini: You thief, if you so much as TOUCH HER I WILL

Balducci: FIERAMOSCA TAKE HER OUT OF HERE

Fieramosca: *backing away* Me? But I don’t want to cause even more of a scene…

Cellini: IF YOU SO MUCH AS MOVE TOWARDS HER FIERAMOSCA I WILL SEND YOU TO HELL

Balducci: FIERAMOSCA DO SOMETHING

Fieramosca: BUT I DON’T WANNA CAUSE A SCENE

Ascanio: Some son-in-law!

Teresa: OH MY GOD CAN EVERYONE CALM DOWN FOR FIVE SECONDS 

*A disturbance from outside causes everyone to stop arguing and look up, only to see an unexpected development.*

Everyone: OH SHOOT IT’S THE POPE hey everyone we need to stop fighting and shut up and show some respect omg the Pope is here

*They all promptly shut up and kneel as Pope Clément VII (who will hereafter be referred to as ‘The Pope’ on the understanding that he is not the current Pope in The Real World™), dressed in traveling costume, enters with his retinue.*

The Pope: My children, full indulgence for all your sins! Rise; I don’t want to feel so aloof because I feel like you are all my children, and mercy is the dearest value to our hearts! Rise, my children! A full indulgence for all your sins! Rise!

Balducci and Fieramosca: Uh, Your Holiness, we very humbly give you our request: avenge us!

The Pope: Avenge you? For what? Oh, and for crying out loud, I’ve already asked you like...six times to rise and you’re still down there on the floor.

*Everyone gets up.*

Balducci: A GUY ABDUCTED MY DAUGHTER AND DISHONORED MY GOOD NAME

Fieramosca: AND THE SAME GUY KILLED MY SIDEKICK BUDDY WITH WHOM I DEFINITELY DID NOT HAVE A HOMOEROTIC RELATIONSHIP

The Pope: Who did all this?

Balducci and Fieramosca: CELLINI

Balducci: *gesturing to Teresa* THERE’S MY DAUGHTER

Fieramosca: *holding Cellini’s discarded bloodstained habit* AND THERE’S THE BLOOD HE SHED

Cellini, Teresa, and Ascanio: NO CELLINI ISN’T GUILTY

Balducci: Cellini, one, you literally said you were the only guilty one here like five minutes ago; two, I absolutely hate it when people refer to themselves in the third person.

Cellini: THAT’S BECAUSE YOU’RE NO FUN BALDUCCI

The Pope: A murder and an abduction? Cellini, you did all that? Really? Are you kidding me right now? Are you always going to play the little devil?

Cellini: No. Please, just hear me out for a moment.

The Pope: First, how’s the statue coming?

Cellini: Oh, right. The statue. The statue for you. The statue especially made for you. Your statue. That statue?

The Pope: YES, that statue.

Cellini: Uh...I don’t got you covered. *****

The Pope: What?

Cellini: ...It’s not done yet.

The Pope: Wait a sec...after all this time I’ve given you, and after your promise to have it done today, IT’S STILL NOT FINISHED?!

Everyone: It still hasn’t been cast!

The Pope: So you used my advance money to break a father’s heart and murder a man in the middle of Carnival and then spent the rest drinking? Seriously?

Balducci and Fieramosca: YEAH HE DID

Cellini, Teresa, and Ascanio: NO HE DIDN’T

Balducci and Fieramosca: SHUT UP

Cellini, Teresa, and Ascanio: YOU SHUT UP

The Pope: EVERYONE SHUT UP

Very well, then, you leave me no choice: another will cast the statue.

Teresa, Ascanio, Fieramosca, and Balducci: ANOTHER?!

Cellini: Another cast my statue? EXCUSE ME WHAT DID YOU SAY OH WAIT I KNOW WHAT YOU SAID AND IT IS NOT HAPPENING ON MY WATCH

I WOULD SOONER DESTROY MY OWN MODEL THAN ALLOW SOMEONE ELSE TO—

Everyone Else: What is he DOING?!?!

Fieramosca and Balducci: HOW DARE YOU?!?! ARE YOU NOT IN THE PRESENCE OF THE POPE?!?!?!?!

Cellini: Yes! May the Virgin forgive me, and the Pope, and my patron saint, but NO ONE ELSE, NOT EVEN MICHELANGELO HIMSELF WILL CAST THIS STATUE BECAUSE I’D RATHER DIE THAN THAT HAPPEN

The Pope: Fine, let’s test that out. Guards! Arrest Cellini immediately.

*The guards come forward but at the same time, Cellini picks up a large hammer and runs over to the model of the statue.*

Cellini: I will whack this model into tiny, unrecognizable bits before a single one of your guards lays a hand on me.

*He raises the hammer to smash the model, but everyone screams.*

The Pope: STOP oh for holy God’s sake

Teresa, Ascanio, Fieramosca, and Balducci: He defied the Pope to his face! What has he done?

The Pope: FINE you demon, what do you need to calm down? Honestly, at this point, I mostly just want to see my future display piece not get hacked to bits.

*Cellini moves in front of the model, lowering his hammer but still holding it.*

Cellini: Full forgiveness for all my sins.

The Pope: Very well; you will have it without confession.

Teresa, Ascanio, Fieramosca, and Balducci: Without even confession!

The Pope: I have said it; it will be done.

Cellini: That’s not all. I want Teresa’s hand in marriage.

The Pope: Let me get this straight: you want forgiveness and Teresa?

Fieramosca and Balducci: HOLY FATHER STOP RIGHT THERE

Cellini: Oh, and one more thing: I want the time to cast my statue.

The Pope: You want forgiveness, Teresa, and the time to cast the statue? Please tell me there’s nothing else.

Cellini: That is all.

Everyone Else: That’s all!

The Pope: ah DANG IT the devil knows how much I love art and he’s laughing at me but next thing you know I’ll be laughing at him

Balducci and Fieramosca: he knows how much the Pope loves art but it’ll be our turn to laugh

Teresa: Dear God, have mercy on him!

Ascanio: HAHAHA THIS IS THE BEST TRICK EVER

Cellini: I’VE GOT HIM IN A CORNER BECAUSE I KNOW HIS LOVE FOR ART

The Pope: How much time do you need to cast the statue?

Cellini: The rest of the day, God willing.

The Pope: ...Are you sure that’ll be enough time?

Cellini: I think so: the furnace has been heating up the metal for a while now.

The Pope: *signaling to the guards to move away* Very well, I agree to your conditions.

*Cellini puts down the hammer and goes over to the Pope.*

But listen to me very carefully, you rogue: I myself will be at the workshop tonight to see if you are able to complete the statue. If not, by God, I will hand you over to the legal authorities and you will be hanged tonight.

Teresa, Ascanio, Fieramosca, and Balducci: Hanged!

The Pope: I think I’ve made myself clear.

Balducci: But...but Holy Father, he can finish the statue by the end of the day, and Teresa—

The Pope: To Hell with you and Teresa! He’ll be hanged if he doesn’t finish.

Fieramosca: But...but Holy Father, he can finish the statue by the end of the day, and Pompeo—

The Pope: ugh you people to Hell with you and Pompeo! He’ll be hanged if he doesn’t finish. Cellini, I trust I’ve made myself clear?

Cellini: ...Crystal.

Teresa, Ascanio, Fieramosca, and Balducci: Hanged! If he doesn’t finish today, he’ll be hanged!

Cellini: *ironically* Ah, Holy Father, how kind to offer such an indulgence for my sins—the threat of hanging!

The Pope: Yes, you will hang!

Now he’ll feel less proud because I myself will punish him because no saint or angel in all of Heaven will help him; he has sealed his own fate!

Cellini: GOD WILL HELP ME AND I WILL SUCCEED BECAUSE I FEEL THE POWER AND SOMEONE ONCE SAID SOMETHING ABOUT FORTUNE FAVORING THE BOLD WELL IT’S NOT JUST FORTUNE IT’S ALSO GOD SO NO ONE’S PETTY VENGEANCE CAN STOP ME

Teresa: NOOOOOOOOOOO HE’S GONNA DIE BECAUSE EVERYONE’S WORKING AGAINST HIM EVEN GOD AND THERE’S NO HOPE AND I FEEL LIKE MY ONLY OPTION IS DEATH

Ascanio: LET THEM INSULT HIM WHAT DOES HE CARE GOD WILL HELP HIM BECAUSE HE IS BOLD SO I HAVE HOPE AND NO ONE’S PETTY VENGEANCE CAN STOP HIM

Fieramosca and Balducci: AT LAST HE IS COMING TO HIS DESERVED RUIN AND WE WILL HAVE OUR VENGEANCE

*The Pope’s retinue moves towards the Pope as if to protect him, but he signals them to stop.*

The Pope’s Retinue: WHAT AN INDULGENCE HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN PUNISHED ALREADY AND HE DOESN’T DESERVE THIS CHANCE

*Everyone leaves.*

Notes

Scene 2: **

Cellini’s foundry. The furnace is at the back; there is one door each at right and left. Some of Cellini’s other works are there. A clock strikes 4 PM.

*Ascanio runs in.*

Ascanio: Tralalalalalalalalalala…

What’s the matter with me? I just feel so overwhelmed and weary with all this drama right now but TOO BAD  because when I feel sad I just laugh and sing tralalala and then suddenly I feel dizzy and happy again!

So our bronze baby is getting its baptism of fire tonight: the Colosseum will be the church, the Pope will be the godfather, and all the people of Rome will be the witnesses! Tralalala honestly thinking about that overwhelms me even more but you know what? It’s okay; I’ll just laugh and sing tralalalala…

*Quick note: during this next part, Ascanio imitates both Cellini and the Pope.*

HAHAHA THAT WHOLE THING WITH CELLINI AND THE POPE WAS THE FUNNIEST THING EVER BECAUSE THE POPE WAS LIKE ‘Take the man away!’ and Cellini was like ‘NOT SO FAST I’LL DESTROY THIS MODEL FIRST’ and the Pope was like ‘fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine I give in because I guess I’m a total pushover’ and Cellini was like ‘I want forgiveness for all my sins’ and the Pope was like ‘sure whatever’ and then Cellini was like ‘I ALSO want Teresa’ and the Pope was like ‘yeah cool okay’ and THEN Cellini was like ‘and I want the rest of the day to cast the statue!’ and the Pope was like ‘sounds good’ and THEN SUDDENLY THE POPE GRABBED MY MASTER’S HEAD and he said he would HANG HIM if he didn’t finish the statue by the end of the day! Is that all? Oh, you’ll hang! You understand? Ah, Holy Father, what an indulgence!

great THAT overwhelmed me too and I feel sad again but I’ll just do what I always do and just laugh and sing tralalalala and everything will be okay! ***

*Cellini enters and signals Ascanio to leave, which he does.*

Cellini: Alone, just me, my courage, and my audacity, about to have the fight of my life—and all Rome is watching! Very well, then; let the winds bring the storm, let them rile up all the waves, and let me sail straight into it! This is the story of my life...what a life!

Why could I not be a simple shepherd, leading my sheep and wandering through the wildness of the mountains? Free, alone, at peace, with no need to do any useless work for anyone else...I would wander far from all these busy cities and I would sing to my heart’s content...and at night I would sleep on the ground in a little hut, but I would sleep so peacefully, it would be like sleeping in my mother’s arms as a baby! Ah, what a dream! What a life!

Metalworkers: *singing outside* How happy the sailors, those children of the waves, are…

Cellini: ugggggggggggggggh not that song AGAIN

Metalworkers: ...they happily follow the wind wherever it blows…

Cellini: something bad ALWAYS happens whenever they sing that stupid song

Metalworkers: ...and when the boat sinks, the ocean is their tomb…

*Ascanio comes back.*

Ascanio: That sad song is bad luck!

Cellini: If they lose heart, we’ll fail!

*calling out to the workers* We are sailors who sail on metal! To rule the waves is easy; the real triumph is to rule over fire as we do!

Cellini and Ascanio: TAKE HEART AND HAVE COURAGE IF WE CAN JUST HOLD ON FOR ONE MORE DAY WE’LL ALL CELEBRATE TOMORROW

Chorus: *even more sadly than before* How happy the sailors, those children of the waves, are…

Cellini: *putting on an apron* Alright, let’s go to work, no more dilly-dallying!

*Loud knocking on the door.*

WHO IS IT

*Ascanio runs to the door and opens it, then hurries back.*

Ascanio: IT’S FIERAMOSCA

*Fieramosca enters with two swordsmen.*

Cellini: uggggggggggh not him hi, what do you want?

Fieramosca: Cellini, I have come to send you to Hell.

Cellini: ‘nyah nyah nyah Cellini I have come to send you to Hell nyah nyah nyah’ what do you MEAN you BUFFOON

Fieramosca: okay fine, I’ll say it differently so your tiny little brain will understand: I demand satisfaction for your insults.

Cellini: You’re joking, right?

Fieramosca: Uh, no.

Ascanio: Oh, really?

Fieramosca: NO I’M NOT JOKING I DEMAND SATISFACTION NOW

Cellini: BUT I CAN’T LEAVE

Fieramosca: So you do not accept the challenge, you coward?

Cellini: Pot calling kettle black, I see.

Fieramosca: You don’t accept?

Cellini: FINE WE FIGHT HERE

Fieramosca: No! If I kill you in your house, even if we are legitimately dueling, I’m an assassin. That’s the law. We fight elsewhere.

Cellini: OH I SEE HOW IT IS YOU WANT ME TO NOT BE ABLE TO FINISH but, God willing, I’ll teach you a fine lesson about messing with the wrong guy, which you SHOULD HAVE LEARNED last night but I guess you did not. Your desired location?

Fieramosca: I will be waiting for you behind St. Andrew’s cloister.

Cellini: Very well. I will be there. 

Fieramosca: And I’ll send you to Hell.

*He leaves with his swordsmen.*

Cellini: This couldn’t have been timed worse. Ascanio, go get my sword.

*He does so, and the door opens again.*

 godDAMMIT Fieramosca why are you alrea—

*He realizes that the person who has come in is not Fieramosca but Teresa.*

Teresa! Good God! TERESA!!!

Teresa: MY DAD HAS BETRAYED US

Cellini: what NOW

Teresa: So you know how the Pope said that no one from either Tuscany or Rome could marry me until the end of the day? ****

Cellini: ...I somehow did not hear about that?

Teresa: well that’s a thing ANYWAY even though the Pope himself made that order, my dad was like ‘screw this’ and was packing to take me away from Rome, but I slipped out and ran here as fast as I could to see you!

*Ascanio returns and gives Cellini his sword.*

What are you doing with that?

Cellini: Honey, I’ll be back soon.

Teresa: NO STAY HERE YOU’RE GONNA GET INTO A FIGHT

Cellini: ...that’s kinda the point?

Teresa: I’M NOT LETTING YOU GO

Cellini: TERESA IT’S OKAY I’M GONNA SEND YOUR FIANCÉ TO HELL

Teresa: wait WHAT

Cellini: Fieramosca came here and insulted me and challenged me to a duel.

Teresa: IT’LL BE A TRAP (knowing him and also because this is how every duel in the history of French opera turns out)

Cellini: Calm down, it’ll be fine.

Teresa: NO IT WON’T

Cellini: Look: your fiancé isn’t anything near a Hercules; he’s a buffoon with an extremely inflated ego and I’m gonna teach him a lesson he will never forget.

*He leaves with Ascanio.*

Teresa: seriously NO ONE listens to me around here and now I’m here all alone

Metalworkers: *offstage* CELLINI WHERE ARE YOU WHY DID YOU LEAVE

Teresa: What’s going on?

Metalworkers: LET’S GO

Teresa: If he doesn’t come back, I’m done for…

*Francesco, Bernardino, and the other metalworkers leave their work behind and come onstage.*

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: LET’S GO WE’VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS

Teresa: What is happening???

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: EVEN THOUGH WE AIN’T GOT HATS OR BADGES WE’RE A UNION JUST BY SAYING SO AND THE WORLD WILL KNOW

Teresa: WHAT ARE YOU DOING

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: WE’RE ALL LEAVING

Teresa: BUT WHAT ABOUT CELLINI

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: HE MAY OWN THE WORLD BUT HE DON’T OWN US WE’VE BEEN DOWN TOO LONG AND WE’VE PAID OUR DUES

Teresa: Look, he’ll be back soon—

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: WE BEEN KEEPING SCORE EITHER HE GIVES US OUR RIGHTS OR WE GIVES HIM A WAR

Teresa: Please, go back to work, he’ll pay you tomorrow—

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: SO HE GAVE HIS WORD? WELL IT AIN’T WORTH BEANS NOW HE’S GONNA SEE WHAT ‘STOP THE FURNACES’ REALLY MEANS

Teresa: He’ll pay you very well—

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: BUT WE NEED MONEY TO LIVE

Teresa: (Holy Virgin, don’t abandon us now!) I’M NOT LEAVING YOU 

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: LET’S LEAVE

Teresa: PLEASE I’M BEGGING YOU

*Fieramosca enters and Teresa sees him.*

OH GOD CELLINI’S DEAD

*She faints. Francesco and Bernardino help her up and support her.*

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: wait WHAT

Fieramosca: What...what is the meaning of this?!

Teresa: *reviving and pointing to Fieramosca* Good workers...that man has killed your master...avenge him!

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: he WHAT OH HE KILLED CELLINI HE WILL PAY FOR THIS LET’S KILL HIM

*They start attacking Fieramosca.*

Fieramosca: NO NO STOP IT I AM YOUR FRIEND

*Gold coins fall out of his pockets; the workers see them.*

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: Dude, why do you have so much money on you? Not that we care, but you could get robbed.

Fieramosca: I was just coming to give you a better salary than you get here…

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: A BETTER SALARY WOULD BE NICE BUT NOT FROM YOU BECAUSE YOU KILLED CELLINI SO WHAT SHOULD WE DO ABOUT THIS OH WE KNOW LET’S THROW YOU INTO THE FURNACE

Fieramosca: WAIT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO I’M YOUR FRIEND

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: THROW HIM INTO THE FURNACE

*Chaos ensues. Suddenly, from nearby:*

Cellini: HEY WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE

*Cellini and Ascanio enter.*

Teresa, Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: OMG YOU’RE ACTUALLY ALIVE

Cellini: Indeed I am! Why wouldn’t I be?

*Teresa rushes over to Cellini and embraces him.*

Teresa: THANK GOD YOU’RE OKAY

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: WE ALL THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD AND THAT FIERAMOSCA KILLED YOU

Cellini: Well then, rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.

*He goes over to Fieramosca, who is sweating and panting like an ox.*

What were you doing here while I was waiting for you behind St. Andrew’s cloister?

Fieramosca: I was coming...I’m coming…

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: YEAH HE WAS COMING ALRIGHT HE WAS COMING TO TRY TO HIRE ALL OF US

Cellini: Let me get this straight: you were trying to bribe my entire workshop?

Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: YEAH HE WAS

Cellini: watch out because I’m about to get VERY ANGRY IF YOU DIDN’T ALREADY GET THE HINT

Fieramosca: I was coming...I’m coming…

Cellini: You’ve come—to work!

Everyone Else: wait WHAT

Cellini: YES HE WILL WORK GET AN APRON ON HIM AND MAKE SURE HE TAKES HIS PLACE IN THE WORKSHOP AND DOESN’T TRY TO SABOTAGE ANYTHING OR BY GOD—

Teresa, Ascanio, Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: THIS IS THE BEST IDEA EVER C’MON FIERAMOSCA GET TO WORK OR CELLINI WILL MAKE YOU TAKE A VERY UNPLEASANT BATH IN A BUNCH OF MELTED BRONZE

Fieramosca: ugh not this AGAIN very well I’ll go to work

*He puts on an apron.*

Cellini, Teresa, Ascanio, Francesco, Bernardino, and Metalworkers: Alright, everyone, it’s time to go back to work and finish everything up!

Fieramosca: I’ve already taken one very unpleasant bath this week and I don’t want another so let’s go to work

Ascanio: THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER

*Everyone goes to work except Teresa and Ascanio.*

*****Teresa: I feel much better about this now, but the sky is getting dark…

Ascanio: Have courage! Before long, we’ll be through the storm and into a safe port and everything will be okay.

*He goes to join Cellini and the others. The Pope enters with his retinue and Balducci.*

Balducci: TERESA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

The Pope: Be quiet!

*Teresa kneels before the Pope.*

Teresa: Holy Father, forgive me!

The Pope: Rise, my child. Tell me: how did you get here?

Balducci: EXCUSE ME—

The Pope: IN THE NAME OF GOD SHUT UP 

Teresa: Well, my father wanted to take me away from Rome so I couldn’t marry Cellini, but I thought you would be forgiving, so I came here and joined Cellini in order to wait for you and the casting and hopefully my marriage to Cellini!

The Pope: oh Dio mio you really should honor your father, BUT your father failed entirely and very much dropped the ball in actively trying to go against my orders, so I forgive you.

Now, tell me, where is the man of the hour?

Teresa: There he is now!*****

*Cellini enters and acknowledges the Pope.*

The Pope: Well, have you finished?

Cellini: Not quite yet, Your Holiness, but everything is on track to be done soon, thank God; the metal is heating up right now and all that needs to happen is that the metal melt and flow into the mold, the very bowels of the earth, and become holy at your signal!

Balducci: The braggart!

The Pope: He’s faking his cheerfulness and honestly, it really annoys me, but we must wait and see how this goes. Very well: begin.

*Cellini signals the workers to begin. They work for a while to some of the slappiest orchestral music ever written in opera, until Fieramosca leaves his work and runs up to Cellini.* ******

Fieramosca: WE NEED MORE METAL OR ELSE WE’LL STOP WORKING

Cellini: What are you saying?

Fieramosca: WE NEED MORE METAL OR ELSE WE’LL STOP WORKING

Cellini: Let me check this out myself. If you’re lying, you’re in big trouble. If you’re telling the truth, I’m in big trouble…

*He runs to check on the work, leaving a very embarrassed Fieramosca behind.*

Balducci: Fieramosca?! Is that you?!

Fieramosca: ...Yeah.

Balducci: What are you wearing that for?

Fieramosca: Well, uh, it’s a long story…

Balducci: And your face is covered in soot! Really, I don’t understand you at all sometimes.

Fieramosca: Uh, well...shouldn’t even rival artists help one another every now and then?

*Cellini returns.*

Cellini: WE’RE DOING FINE FIERAMOSCA GET BACK TO WORK

*He gestures threateningly at Fieramosca, who immediately backs down and returns to the furnace, followed by Cellini.*

Teresa and Ascanio: He looks so pale! Dear God, don’t abandon him now!

Balducci and the Pope: He looks so pale! He’s getting nervous; he might be in trouble!

*Cellini returns, flustered.*

Cellini: Excuse me, but I really need to be back there supervising the casting. We’re getting pretty close now; we just added more metal to the furnace. Everything is being melted and it is all going very well.

*He goes back to supervise. Exactly fourteen seconds later, Francesco and Bernardino get his attention with a very unwelcome twist.*

Francesco and Bernardino: CELLINI THE METAL IS CONGEALING *******

Everyone Else: wait WHAT

Francesco and Bernardino: WE DON’T KNOW HOW IT’S HAPPENING BUT THE METAL IS CONGEALING

Everyone Else: THAT’S ACTUALLY REALLY BAD

Francesco and Bernardino: WE NEED MORE METAL

Cellini: But there should be more back there. Has it all been used?

Francesco and Bernardino: WE DON’T HAVE ANY MORE METAL WE NEED METAL NOW

Cellini: BUT I DON’T HAVE ANY MORE METAL

Everyone Else: you don’t have WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!

Cellini: I’M DONE FOR

Everyone Else: HE’S DONE FOR

The Pope: Well, that’s the one thing that can make him dumbfounded.

Balducci: FINALLY HE’LL BE HANGED

Everyone: oh sh—oh shoot he’s done for

Balducci: *ironically* Oh, you, such a genius as you are, are tortured by just a simple little nothing? You know everything, your skill is infinite! Turn that little frown upside-down!

Cellini: you’re not helping and I would say some choice words to you but we’re both in the presence of the Pope and that is the only thing restraining me at the moment

Francesco, Bernardino, and The Workers: WE NEED METAL NOW

Francesco: WE’RE RUNNING OUT OF TIME THE FIRE’S GOING OUT

Cellini: Wait! What...what should I do?

Francesco, Bernardino, and The Workers: WE JUST NEED METAL MORE METAL MORE METAL

Cellini: DEAR GOD YOU’RE MY ONLY HOPE LEFT SO PLEASE HELP ME OUT HERE BECAUSE I’M SO CLOSE TO GIVING IN TO DESPAIR AND I’M REALLY TRYING MY BEST DOWN HERE

Balducci: Um, not to spoil the mood or anything, but perhaps you should wait to chat with God until after we find out what happens with this statue?

Cellini: that doesn’t even make sense

Balducci: I mean you can give thanks then on the extreme off-chance that you actually pull this off.

Cellini: I’M SAVED GOD IS HELPING ME BECAUSE I JUST GOT AN IDEA

WORKERS GRAB EVERYTHING METAL YOU CAN FIND TAKE EVERYTHING FROM THE WORKSHOP AND THROW IT IN THE FURNACE

Francesco and Bernardino: WHAT YOU WANT US TO GET YOUR OTHER ARTWORKS AND THROW THEM IN THERE?!?!?!?!

Cellini: I DON’T CARE JUST GRAB ANYTHING METAL YOU CAN FIND INCLUDING MY ARTWORKS AND THROW IT IN NO MATTER WHAT METAL IT’S MADE OF IF IT’S METAL GRAB IT

*Ascanio grabs a candelabra and throws it in. Cellini does the same with every metal object he can find. Ascanio, Francesco, Bernardino, and some of the other workers start bringing in some of Cellini’s metal sculptures and passing them to other workers so they can be thrown into the furnace.*

Teresa: IT’S ALMOST TOO MUCH TO BEAR I HOPE HE MAKES IT IN THE END

The Pope: HE HAS SUCH BOLDNESS WILL HE MAKE IT IN THE END

Balducci: HE’S GOING MAD AND HE’S RUINING HIMSELF FOR A HOPELESS CAUSE

*The metal collection continues. The workers keep melting the objects and sculptures in the furnace. Suddenly there is a large explosion and the lid of the crucible mold is blown off.*

Teresa, Balducci, and the Pope: WHAT WAS THAT NOISE WHAT’S GOING ON DID IT HAPPEN OR NO

*Cellini, not daring to look, runs to the front.*

Cellini: IT EXPLODED I’M DONE FOR

Workers: LONG LIVE CELLINI VIVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

*Everyone turns to see the molten metal pour into the mold. The casting is successful.*

Everyone: VICTORY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*Fieramosca pushes through the crowd to find Cellini.*

Fieramosca: HEY LEMME THROUGH I WANT TO FIND MY DEAR FRIEND CELLINI AND EMBRACE HIM

Balducci: I KNEW HE COULD DO IT ALL ALONG SO TERESA HERE’S YOUR FUTURE

Cellini: well well well which of these two is the more cowardly suck-up???

Holy Father, I have completed the casting.

The Pope: Well, since God has blessed both your work and your boldness, I will hold up my end of the deal: I officially pardon you, Benvenuto Cellini.

Cellini: Teresa!

Teresa: Cellini!

Francesco, Bernardino, Workers, and Spectators: VIVA CELLINI

Teresa, Fieramosca, and Ascanio: IMMORTAL GLORY TO CELLINI

The Workers: Gold shines like the sun and rubies like fire in the night…

Teresa, Fieramosca, Balducci, Ascanio, Francesco, and Bernardino: GLORY TO HIM

Cellini: ONE LAST ROUND OF OUR SONG

Ascanio, Francesco, and Bernardino: LIKE YOU SAID JUST THE LAST VERSE BECAUSE IT’S THE BEST

Everyone: METALS, THE UNDERGROUND NEVER-FADING FLOWERS, SHINE BRIGHTEST ON THE BROWS OF ALL THE GREATEST PEOPLE—THE KINGS AND QUEENS AND DUKES AND EMPERORS AND EVEN POPES—SO HONOR TO THE MASTER METALWORKERS

TRA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA—

HONOR TO THE MASTER METALWORKERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*General celebration.*

Notes

THE END

Up Next: Così fan tutte

[chaoticneutralwriter]

Twice Fallen

I implore thy loving kindness,

that even as thou didst stand beside thy dear Son as He hung upon the Cross,

so wilt thou also stand by me,

a poor sinner?

guardian demon! Jimin x reader

word count: 6.2k (the longest 6.2k of my life)

genre: angst, romance, comedy, supernatural, drama, slow-burn

Related Works: See Masterlist under Guardian Demon!Jimin

A/N: There’s a lot of Catholicism and religious things going on because well... Angels and demons LOL This is all a work of fiction inspired from real places so that’s my disclaimer here. Also it’s like...half edited xD Other than that....NAE PI TTAM NUNMUL

As the days went on, you become more riddled with an anxiousness that had overtaken every nerve in your body as a multitude of thoughts swirl around your head like an endless whirlpool. First and foremost of course, was the fact that you had exactly five days before you and your friend were due to fly out to attend the BTS concert. That alone was enough to put you in a loop, it had made you so restless that you had gone out of your way to ask co-workers if they could cover your shift — a needless attempt; you knew you were only trying to trick yourself into thinking those were your only first world problems. You shouldn’t have been as surprised when Emily had told you she had already agreed to take your shift once you came around to asking her.

“You asked me that like last week.” She had laughed good-naturedly, patting you on the shoulder in a sympathetic way. “Now I really think you need those days off if you’re starting to lose your memory like this.”

You really don’t have any memory of this though.

But it wasn’t hard to recall Jimin’s words of him promising you that he would make this trip work, no matter what. Not that you had doubted his abilities, but it’s never like you to leave everything up to one person (supernatural or not); you blame the many botched group projects in college you’ve been through for that. More so, you have come to realize, is that a small part of you had done it in hopes of being able to do something for Jimin that would repay even a fraction of what he’s doing for you. This was probably a small, insignificant thing in comparison but it was something you had some semblance of control over that didn’t necessarily require any otherworldly intervention. You should’ve known it was a losing battle from the start.

With that being said, any thoughts of the aforementioned guardian demon these days automatically leads you back to the conversation you had with Jungkook. It hasn’t faded since those three days ago, merely sitting on the back of your mind and only growing in size. You catch yourself spacing out a few times just thinking about all sorts of things that involve him.

Like maybe —  actually — giving up your soul to him.

….Yeah that was quite the conclusion you came to but you can almost pin point the exact moment when you did. It came to you when you had spilled your guts about Jimin to Jungkook on that rooftop garden; never having been able to put into words your honest thoughts about him until the other demon had practically cornered you into doing it. Despite the embarrassment threatening to consume you whole, it was eye opening for you in which you’ve accepted that the only way you can come close to repaying Jimin was to give up your life to him or at least promise it in due time and… you’re okay with that idea.

Weird and concerning, rightfully so but it’s like the half of you that thinks this is utterly mad and the other, more nihilistic side of you had come into terms with one another in the form of one sole agreement that if it had to be any demon, better it be him right?

As they say, you’re only here for a good time, not a long time.

You exhale through your nose in a quiet huff of laughter, subtle enough that the lady passing by behind you doesn’t pay you any notice as you’re restocking the jewellery racks. Today is one of those rare moments that you’re given a task out on the floor away from cash for once and though you’re elated at being able to do something else for a change, your thoughts don’t revolve around whether or not you can fit just one more pair of earrings on this already overstuffed looking hook.

Even if you had settled on the idea of giving your soul to Jimin, the most important question is how? Theoretically, it seems simple enough, at least what you’re picturing in your head — you tell him you want to do it, he says yes and then gets you to sign it away in agreement in whatever form the contract is (maybe something similar to your contract with him now but altered? Who knows). Or maybe in your complete lack of knowledge in demonology, it’s way more complex than that. You could technically ask Jungkook…

Would that even be a good idea? You’re not sure, especially not after the talk you had with him — keeping that ‘good’ head of yours in tact and whatnot. But then again, you’re not entirely sure what he meant by it anyways. You pause your train of thought until a heaving sigh escapes past your lips, your shoulder deflating as your lips purse into a thin line when you realize; you don’t even have any means to contact Jungkook. He’s more of an entity who comes and goes with nothing to tether him to this world, so he’s expressed he’s never had the need for things like a mobile device.

Which means your other option for getting any type of information on this would be from the main demon himself; Jimin.

Except for two things.

One: how does one broach the topic of forfeiting their own soul over to their guardian demon? You suppose it’s not exactly an ‘over dinner’ sort of conversation. The closest thing to a timing you had in mind would be after the concert; fitting in a way where you get your wish fulfilled and now you must pay the price owed.

However, that leads you to two; you don’t have a single clue where the guardian demon in question had gone off to. The last you saw of him was when he had walked you home those nights ago and from then, you haven’t heard from him since. You’ve tried shooting another text and hell, even pushed aside your anxiety and pride to call him for the first time ever, only to receive no response for either occasion; just radio silence. And it’s not even on the matter of telling him you’re willing to give your soul up for him — he still hasn’t told you what your flight, where your tickets or your hotel is!

You force yourself to breathe in deeply before exhaling slowly. Relax, you still technically have time, you try to reassure yourself. Not as much as you want for not knowing some important travel details, but enough that you’d still be able to set off without a hitch.

You trust Jimin.

He hasn’t let you down yet, nor do you think he will any time soon.

You’re confident.

-

Rome, Vatican City

A sigh involuntarily escapes the demon’s lips as he takes in the view in front of him, having not imagined that he would be here, of all places after so many years. The city is alive even if it is late into the night, the piazza lit up to cast a romantic glow on the cobble streets as crowds of people continue to stroll around in leisure. It should be no surprise though; the mild spring weather is well under way here, so much that Jimin thinks it might even be above seasonal. That doesn’t stop him from wearing the long, black overcoat over his airy chiffon button down shirt and the way it billows out behind him as he strides down this Italian street has people turning heads thinking he should be in Milan rather than here, much less how warm he must be feeling underneath it.

It pulls a small smile from him, a small distraction from his purpose here and a last ditch effort to put himself in a better mood before he has to put on a cloaking spell, hiding him from any mortal eyes. Before long, Jimin is upon the entrance to the grand circular plaza. In the centre of it, he spots the unmistakable shape of the Egyptian obelisk, the tall monument sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the Roman-Catholic structures surrounding it. Strangely enough, the more he stared at it, the more Jimin begins to feel in-like with the structure — a nameless fixture in history that eventually had its roots erased, “christianized” and erected by some old fart named Pope Sixtus V to celebrate the triumph of the Church over paganism.

Ugh.

At least it was a witness to St. Peter’s crucification (or so it was apparently said).

Jimin rolls his neck, a twitch in the muscle that had it stiffen uncomfortably before he exhales loudly through his nose.

Right.

He reminds himself to be mindful of where he is, of what he’s about to do. He may have a get out of jail free card but it won’t be nearly enough credentials to win any favours here. So Jimin steels himself, squaring his shoulders and with much more effort than he wants to admit, he begins to make his way across the plaza into a demon’s lion den. He takes care in keeping pace, steps unfaltering and gaze hardened in resolution. Jimin maneuvers inconspicuously through the lingering crowds of tourist and locals alike with the grace of a seasoned dancer but no matter how much he ducks and weaves, he cannot escape the burning sensation of being watched like an ant under a magnifying glass by the figures that seem to close in on him with every step he takes to the basilica.

All 140 of them.

And they all seem to whisper in their harrowing voices, the same obtrusive word in his ear.

Demon.

Jimin is clenching his jaw and fists by the time he reaches the grandiose staircase, his nails digging into his clammy palms until they leave deep crescent indents. A ragged exhales passes his lips, a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding until now and it makes him chastise himself. He passed the Apostolic Palace just fine, not even a single sign of getting smote. If he’s breaking out into a cold sweat from a little bit of verbal intimidation here, then what good is he by the time he has to go inside?

Jimin’s eyes slide up to take in the building that has become one of the most symbolic landmark in the religious world and the reason for his odd visit to a place he should be avoiding at all cost.

The Papal Basilica of St. Peter in the Vatican, or otherwise simply known as St. Peter’s Basilica.

Its dome shape roof looms above him, an imposing shadow even if it is lit by a multitude of beams of spotlights along its base and all around the facade — the lights only adding to its size. Doesn’t help that at either ends of the steps are the statues of St. Paul with his golden sword and St. Peter, the man himself, as if they’re there to personally greet all those who enter this holy space; whether with open arms or a strike of sword in His name, Jimin is not sure.

The basilica is closed to the public, the hours of which it is open has long since passed but despite that, Jimin waits, fixed in his spot as he simply stares unseeingly, a myriad of events all leading up to this very moment passing before his eyes.

-

“I’m only going to say this once, so you better listen.” Jungkook states sternly after he knocks back his drink. He places his glass down on the sleek black marble bar top a little too roughly. For once, Jimin refrains from commenting, not wanting to anger the young demon who no doubt, has zero tolerance for banter right now. As they say, let sleeping tigers lie. So Jimin straightens more in his seat, giving Jungkook his full attention.

“First, you must seek the one who has been given the keys of the kingdom of heaven by His Holiness — the gatekeeper, St. Peter, at the place where he is buried. He will be your witness and judge.”

-

With a deep inhale, Jimin lets the cloaking spell encase him like a thin, dark veil and after releasing his breath, he finally takes his first steps upwards towards the basilica. The closer he gets, the heavier his feet seems to feel as if a weight is pushing down on him but he persists until he reaches the tall iron gate of the entrance. If he cranes his neck, he can just make out the relief of St. Peter being handed the keys by Jesus carved into the stone, below the central window where no doubt the pope had made his appearance to the masses. For the first time in his life, Jimin feels immensely smaller as he stands in-between the columns, their height seemingly never-ending as if they are reaching heaven itself.

He vehemently tears his gaze away, teeth chewing at his bottom lip as he works to loosen his muscles that have gone tense. It’s like his own body has developed a mind of its own and is screaming at him to leave, get away. But he pushes those warnings aside and within a few strides, he finds himself passing the threshold and into the atrium. Even though it’s only the entrance hall, he can already feel the grandeur of the basilica from its high dome ceilings and archways. Within this singular space, it embodies the old and new in its walls as ancient inscriptions and plaques commemorating popes who had seen the construction of this holy building and in the fine marble floor as coat of arms. To the right at the end of the portico, is the statue of Emperor Constantine and to the left is Charlemagne, both on noble steeds carved out of white marble that seem like they’ll come to life at any moment.

Jimin’s jaw clench and unclenches, a nervous tick as he surveys his surroundings and with a sweep of his dark eyes, they land on a pair of bronze double doors.

-

“When you enter the atrium, you will find five bronze doors; The Door of Death, The Door of Good and Evil, The Door of the Sacraments, The Central Door, and The Holy Door. You must past through ‘The Holy Door’ to evoke the passage from sin to grace — to show your willingness to make peace with God, restore what has been damaged in yourself and reshape your heart.”

-

It’s not hard to figure out which door Jungkook was referring to. As he stops just before them, Jimin can see the pictures in each panel along the length of it, depicting various scenes of man’s sin and his redemption through God’s mercy. His eyes trail from the infamous disobedience of Adam and Eve to Christ’s Baptism in the Jordan. They linger on The Need for Forgiveness for a while longer than he intended.

Just how forgiving can God be? Jimin wonders.

For all the times he’s heard angels preach about His benevolence, can God extend that mercy to even a demon?

Well, Jimin huffs a quiet laugh under his breath, God had forgiven man after all and he thinks that’s a bit of a stretch.

The door is normally bricked up, opened once every twenty-five years to celebrate the Holy Year but it will prove to be no issue for Jimin. It’s not a matter of how he’s going to pass through the doorway, more so it’s what will happen when he does.

-

Jimin sees Jungkook’s lips quirk up in the slightest and he gets the feeling that the grimace he’s trying to hold back still showed on his face.

“I’m telling you now brother, this is the easiest part of the process and even then, I can’t tell you what will happen when you pass through those doors.”

“So am I supposed to feel enlightened then?”

“More like I actually don’t know. When you’re a blank slate being indoctrinated into this, you don’t feel anything other than the feeling of having your soul bared. But you,” Jungkook pauses to point an almost accusing finger in Jimin’s direction, “you’re a demon, so it’s either going to tickle or you’ll have your soul ripped to shreds.”

-

All he knows is that he’s willing, and that has to count for something. At least, that’s what he hopes. His thoughts unconsciously drift to you briefly, finding himself holding onto the image like a beacon of light in the darkness and with a swallow, he steps forward. Jimin doesn’t get a face full of metal, in fact, not even so much as a shockwave of resistance like he expected that for a split second, he’s bemused at how easily he passes through.

But then he feels it.

Something spears right through him, an invisible force so strong that it leaves him winded, knees nearly buckling and he all but finds himself stumbling through to the other side, right into the central nave. He forgets where he is for a moment, trying to gather his wits as he takes in deep breaths, trying to calm his thundering heart but it seems almost futile. True to Jungkook’s words, the moment he passed through those doors, something had torn away not just the cloaking spell he had placed on himself, but almost everything about his being — the glamour that he wore, the face that he stole, his magic, everything. He’s never felt so exposed but as he raises a trembling hand to his eyes, it seems nothing about him has changed.

Jimin balls his hand into a fist, hoping to lessen the tremors but when they don’t stop, he kisses his teeth, slightly perturbed. He shouldn’t complain, rather he should be thankful that he’s still in one piece. After all, he only just crossed the first hurdle. Without wanting to dawdle or waste time, he boldly begins to make his way.

The nave is a sight to behold, the space so high and open with its coloured marbles, gold trimmings and ornate detailing of heavenly imagery. No doubt in the day, the place would be filled with people from all around the world wanting to be able to bask in the awe of the architecture, built by the hands of arguably some of the greatest artists the world has ever known, that embodies all of the majesty, strength and beauty of God.

But now, devoid of any life, it is enveloped in an eerie silence that the soft footsteps of his loafers on the marble floors seem magnified, his only source of light was the moon streaming through pockets in the high domes, casting a cool blue haze on everything, making it seem all the more like Jimin had entered into a spiritual realm.

He passes by pillars with their niches filled with statues of saints who had founded religious orders and along the perimeter of the transept and above the arches, are the twenty eight figures of the Christian and human virtues, staring down at him, watching as he makes his way further into the the nave towards the place he must go. Jimin keeps to averting his gaze downward, determined to push away the incessant itch that has begun to crawl along his skin, heart still pounding like he’s ran a marathon rather than walk at a brisk pace like he is now and he fears that it will give him away in this quiet atmosphere, the sound so much more defeaning to his ears.

Sweat begins to form along his hairline and soon he finds himself short of breath. It makes him slow to almost a stop, light-headedness washing over him and he has to blink away the dark spots that appear in his vision, feeling sick to his stomach. When he looks next, it seems like the long hallway ahead of him had elongated but when he looks up, he’s actually only a few metres away from being directly under the impressive Baroque Canopy. No wonder his skin felt like it was burning from the inside while he’s getting chills at the same time.

Running a hand through his hair, he hastens once again.

-

“If, by some miracle, you find yourself inside, make your way to the end of the nave, pass the Canopy and St. Peter’s tomb, until you reach the top of the cruciform. There you will find ‘The Chapel of the Cathedra’ where you will kneel before his throne.”

“Why not his tomb?” Jimin couldn’t help but to ask. It made more sense to go see the man directly where he was supposedly buried.

“It’s symbolic because it’s a place where St. Peter had always sat, teaching and instructing the faithful of Rome. It’s only appropriate that is where you will ‘learn’ about those teachings with the guidance of the Holy Spirit.”

-

The altar, for lack of better words, is grandiose — it’s structure solely created to enclose the wooden throne of St. Peter, displaying it in a manner to show the significance and worship of the holy relic. The chair is a combination of the original acacia wood and gilded bronze done by Gian Lorenzo Bernini. It’s richly ornate with bas-relief, the base which it sat upon is made of black and white marble with four gigantic bronze statues, making the chair look as if it was suspended in golden clouds. On either sides, there are statues of saints from the Latin and Greek Church. At the crown are the gilt and stucco of Gloria with a host of angels among the rays of light and billowing clouds.

And right at the centre is a window of Bohemian glass, divided into twelve sections, representing the Twelve Apostles with a single dove against it — the symbol of the Holy Spirit, the soul of the Church.

Jimin stood, stuck at the very borders where the pews begin, overwhelmed with apprehension but shockingly, entranced as well. He would imagine the two windows situated on either side of the apse would let in brilliant streams of warm, golden light from the afternoon sun, giving the place an even more mystical look that would easily ensnare anyone into becoming a believer. Now though, with the light of the moon, it appears just as ghostly as the rest of the basilica — sombre yet still hauntingly beautiful. Jimin swallows once, running his tongue along his dry lips before he summons the strength to force his legs into motion.

They were by far the hardest steps he’d ever taken, his feet feeling like lead as he drags them one excruciating step at a time until he all but collapses onto his knees once he reaches the dark wooden prayer bench. His skin feels like it’s breaking out into hives, the itch becoming so unbearable at this point that he thinks he’ll go mad and resort to ripping away his skin himself. Every muscle in him is tense, any small movements causing them to twitch and spasm painfully and when he finally cranes his neck to look up at the altar, he hears his bones crack.

The fog in his head threatens to overwhelm him, stun him into a stupor until he can do nothing but slowly wither away into ashes. He fights to stay alert and with much effort, tries to remember Jungkook’s next words.

-

“From here, it’s pretty simple… If you can call it that.” Jungkook says a little too off-handedly, as if he was discussing how to change the battery to a remote. “You take Him into your heart and say His prayer.”

“….There are a lot of ‘prayers’.” Jimin deadpans. He may be a demon, but all demons are aware of the ridiculous amounts of prayers said in His name or in any of the other holiness, whether from being hissed out in angry fury by crossing paths with angels or in more unlucky cases, through exorcising.

Jimin’s only familiar with the sign of the cross, uttered to him by a man who couldn’t have picked a worser day to piss him off (he almost felt bad for the police who had to find him the following morning).

Jungkook flips his pretty raven locks out of his face, lazily reaching to pour himself another glass as he reclines back into his seat.

“You’ll know the one.”

-

The younger demon said he would know the prayer once he’s here but his mind is drawing blanks, unable to even begin searching for any hints. Through his hazy vision, the dove appears to have a halo of light surrounding it, pulsating as if it had life. He stares, fixated on that one point, waiting for who knows what. Just when the silence became too stifling, he hears a sound. It’s so soft that he can’t decipher it, much less if it was real or something he hallucinated in his delirious mind. It sounded like a whisper but he can’t make out any words, at least, not ones he recognizes.

It comes and goes, flowing like it’s being carried by an invisible breeze and before him, the dove seems to glow even brighter. It compels him to close his eyes and past a dry throat, he takes in a breath and from his lips, the first lines spills forth.

“Deus meus

ex toto corde poenitet me omnium meorum peccatorum…”

The words burn like a hot poker being pricked along his skin, a poison pouring from his own mouth as every line was another stabbing pain. Jimin speaks until his knuckles turn white from gripping the bench so tightly, nails digging into the wood and causing small cracks to form in the grain but still through gritted teeth, he continues the prayer faithfully.

“…. Ideo firmiter propono, adiuvante gratia Tua,

de cetero me non peccaturum peccandique occasiones proximas fugiturum.”

As he reaches the final verse, his once porcelain face is drained of any colour, marred by fissures and cracks, the flesh burnt at the edges like paper caught on fire with spidery veins snaking along the surface, revealing him for what he truly is underneath. His body shakes uncontrollably and with one last sharp inhale, he utters.

“Amen.”

-

“So I say the ‘prayer,’” Jimin reaffirms, resisting the urge to use air quotations. “And then that’s it? Done?”

Jungkook throws his head back with a laugh, his bunny teeth flashing as he tries to reel himself back in. He shakes his head, almost out of pity. Jimin doesn’t miss that, nor does he like it and his narrowing eyes prompts the younger demon to elaborate.

“You can very well be ‘done’ right on the spot, granted if you even make it that far — I’d honestly be very impressed if you do.”  Jungkook pauses to take a sip of his drink, smacking his lips a little when he swallows the dark liquid. “What’s more important is what comes after you say the prayer; if your will has yet to be broken, it will appear.”

“What will?”

“The Chalice.”

-

Jimin’s eyes, which had been shut tightly, snaps open with trepidation as they wildly scan before him. He tries to collect himself but only just as a gold shape catches his eyes. A hoarse chuckle escapes him unintentionally, the sound a mixture between disbelief and immense relief.

The chalice sits unassumingly on the ornate communion table a few steps in front of him, as if it had been there the entire time. It doesn’t shine with lustre nor is it bejewelled with any precious gems, Jimin was surprised that he had noticed it at all. But nevertheless, he’s relieved to see it there; the fruit of his labour thus far. He takes a moment to just breathe, inhaling and exhaling deeply, damp forehead pressing into the wooden prayer bench. His legs feel like stone, as if anchored down on the spot but he knows he has to eventually get up.

He’s so close.

Jimin grunts, hauling himself up on shaky arms by using the bench as leverage. He leans back heavily on it, limbs protesting as his eyes lock on the gold cup that was still there, beckoning him. He takes another minute to steady himself, running his tongue over his dry, cracked lips and once he’s sure he’s stable enough, he begins to make his way. He nearly falls over from that one step alone, arms flying back to catch himself on the prayer bench just in time. Shutting his eyes, it takes everything in him not to curse aloud, given where he is right now so Jimin settles in letting out a frustrated growl instead. Once the feeling passes, he clenches his teeth and tries again.

This time, Jimin manages, keeping his steps to a minimal with one arm clutching around his midsection as if to hold himself upright. It’s a slow process, feeling like he’s travelling at a snail’s pace but eventually, he limps his way there. When the table is within reach, his hands slams down onto the surface to brace himself, a loud bang reverberating throughout the basilica. The force of it disturbs the chalice slightly, causing it to slosh the liquid inside and spill over on the white tablecloth. Jimin recoils on instinct at the sight.

Up close, he can see the finer details of the cup; how dull and worn it actually looks as if it had been used for over centuries but despite the scratches and scuffs, it had withstood time.

But that’s not where the focus of his attention is.

-

Jungkook’s taken on a more morose demeanour, now only fiddling his half empty glass lost in his own thoughts —  or perhaps reminiscing, Jimin’s not sure. Suddenly, he breaks out into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as his gaze flits to meet Jimin’s.

“The Chalice will appear to only those who are deemed worthy. It is the final act you must do in order to prove your faith and commitment, to cleanse your soul and begin anew.”

A beat passes, wherein Jimin sits in turmoil with his own emotions. This entire ordeal was a lot to take in, the things Jungkook had told him sounding crazier than the last. Everything could go wrong so easily and so quickly that at some point, he questioned the validity of Jungkook’s method but shoot those doubts down when he reminds himself that not just anyone would know the particulars of this in such great detail.

“So do I baptize myself in the holy water? Get a new name and everything?” Jimin asks jokingly in an attempt to break the tension but even he hears the uncertainty straining his voice.

“You’re not going to anoint yourself with it.” Jungkook sighs, taking his glass in his hand if only to scrutinize it against the light. Then, he gestures it towards Jimin.


“You’re going to drink it.”

-

He stares unblinkingly into the pool of water inside the chalice, watching it as if at any second, he’ll see a vision within its depths. But all he sees is the faint glow of his irises reflected back at him —  two crimson drops that threaten to transform the pure water into blood.

Jungkook’s words continue to echo around in Jimin’s head, the audacity of it all never leaving.

Drink it, he says.

Of all the crazy things Jungkook had told him that night, that one takes the cake. It’s no myth that holy water to a demon is like arsenic to a human; a drop of it would greatly weaken even the strongest of demons, burning skin and bone like acid, anything more and you’ll be nothing but ashes.

So to go as far as to consume it.

A bead of sweat rolls down Jimin’s clenched jaw, a million thoughts running through his mind. A part of him admits he’s terrified of what will become of him should he choose to drink the holy water, this being the closest he’s ever been to staring death in the face. He’s lived without fear of anything for so long because he was the to be feared and even death didn’t scare him because he had nothing to lose.

Now, that’s all changed. Now, he has everything to lose.

The memories, the sounds, the scent, the warmth….

He doesn’t want to lose you.

Jimin draws in a shuddering breath, eyes slipping shut if only to escape to those feelings for a moment of reprieve. It brings a strange sense of comfort to him, a balm to his aching muscles and a moment of clarity to his hazy mind. He longs to go back to your little home, to catch just even a glimpse of your face but he’s here, a million miles away, battered, vulnerable and probably looking like every bit of vermin angels think demons are.

Yet by some miracle, he’s alive.

He’s alive when he should’ve been dead from the moment he walked through those doors.

Which means he has a chance.

Slowly, Jimin opens his eyes again, takes in his final moments and tentatively, he reaches for the cup.

-

“It’s supposed to be a painless process, which is why it’s foolproof — angels being ‘ethical’ and all that. But you’re a demon so if you die, you can’t blame me.” Jungkook disclaims, shooting back his drink and immediately begins to fill it up again. The younger had long opted to just have the bottle beside him rather than needing to wave the bartender down to ask for a refill every time. Jimin doesn’t complain as he too needed to refill constantly; he’s lost track of how many glasses he’s downed in order to swallow this hard pill the younger demon had just given him. They’re about halfway done with their second one.

“But now that you know, do you still want to go through with it?”

Jungkook’s pinned him with a hard stare, more serious than Jimin’s ever seen him but it’s with very good reasons.

He’d basically been told he has a fifty-fifty chance of killing himself in the process on three different occasions, willingly.

A humourless laugh passes through his full lips, wondering briefly if he should’ve taken his chances on the fellow he cancelled on. Then again, Jungkook’s someone he knows and trusts, so he thinks the odds are better, if only slightly. Jimin leans over and takes the bottle, pouring more liquor into his glass until it was about half full before placing it down on the bar counter.

Lifting his glass, he swirls it once and then holds it out towards Jungkook to toast.

“Then can I get an ‘amen’?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, mouth dropping a little, completely appalled and Jimin is prepared to catch the other’s glass should it slip from his loosen grip. Thankfully, the younger demon snaps out of his shock before that happens, resting the crystal glass on the tops of his muscular thigh. Then, as Jimin’s words finally sink into him, Jungkook cocks his head, looks him dead in the eyes and says.

“You’re a crazy son of a bitch.”

Jimin can only laugh in response because he can’t disagree there before he brings the glass to his lips.

-

There’s a strong metallic taste that reaches his tongue first, one he can probably attribute to the old cup, but then comes the first sip.

The effect is immediate.

Jimin begins to choke violently, gasping and retching so hard that he doesn’t realize he’s dropped the chalice until he hears a resounding clang of metal hitting marble. The rest of its contents spews out, soaking the floor and table but he doesn’t have the mind to think if he was meant to drink everything because all he feels is the burning.

A white hot pain racks through every nerve in his body as if he’s being incinerated from the inside out. It makes him keel over, clawing at his throat until they leave deep red marks in their wake and a guttural, agonizing scream finally tears past his clenched teeth. Jimin writhes and convulses, eyes screwing shut and trying desperately to drown out this torture but his limbs feel like they’re being torn apart and his head is about to split open. He’s so out of his mind that above his own sounds of torment, the ringing in his ears begin to sound more like the notes of an organ being played.

He doesn't know how long he lays there, slowly suffocating to death but he can’t stand this any longer. With wild abandon, Jimin’s eyes shoot open, searching for something, anything, anyone, only to meet the serene gazes of the numerous saints and heavenly hosts painted into the stucco ceiling.

Please. He cries, pleads, begs.

Make it stop.

He feels his body seize before all strength leaves him, his hands falling limp to his side and his vision blurs until they can no longer see past the inky black tears that begin to stream from his eyes.

Everything falls silent.

And then he feels nothing.

[ryanmeft]

My Top Performances of 2019, Part 2

Here is the second half of the list of my favorite film performances of 2019. I tried to be as objective as possible, but it’s also a result of personal preferences. As before, the order is unimportant. Part 1 is here:  https://ryanmeft.tumblr.com/post/190668845597/my-top-performances-of-2019-part-1?fbclid=IwAR3_d80vj0FbIVXqWaTV1heUlIDJJmL-JB_ZksaadO_oNRztnhBMICxzTd8

Zhao Tao in Ash is Purest White

She’s got everything you could want in a rusting former industrial town: a good boyfriend who has influence in the area’s small underworld, which gives her power, love and money all at once. In a blink it is all gone, and she finds herself adrift in the world, dealing with the resentments of people with no patience for what she has gone through. Tao is the key component of this crime drama, which is more drama than crime. She does not take the world in blazing force as a crime figure in a Scorsese film might do, but quietly and slowly accepts that the days of her power are past---and unlike the men around her, tries to adapt to, rather than battle, the inevitable.

Ana De Armas in Knives Out

Knives Out is in the grand, disappearing tradition of the character actor, albeit with the parts mostly played by superstars. Yet among a roster that includes Captain America as an irresponsible playboy and Michael Shannon as a professorial-looking semi-Nazi, De Armas’s humble heroine Marta stands out. Maybe it’s because Marta is humble but not naive or entirely innocent, and De Armas manages to capture both her cunning and her honesty without turning her into a doe-eyed victim. She’s the kind of character you want to become a Nancy Drew-esque mystery hero for adults, so you can revisit her later adventures.

Joaquin Phoenix in Joker

Some hated the movie, some loved it, but one thing it seems everyone could agree on is Phoenix’s performance. He’s credited as Arthur Fleck, not as Joker, and his handling of the character couldn’t be more different than any previous portrayal. Arthur is sad and lonely, not at all an enigma---his private life is laid out for us in great detail---and Phoenix portrays him as just sort of being blown through the world, bereft of any real agency. You can debate all day whether the character deserves to be portrayed in a sympathetic way, but you can’t say Phoenix doesn’t pull it off, making us root for this maladjusted, societally-forgotten misfit almost up ‘till the end. 

Sienna Miller in American Woman

In a just world, Miller, hardly a household name, would have her face up on the stage Sunday night for playing this role, a drunken, hard-partying too-young mother and grandmother whose life begins to change when her daughter disappears. I say begins to, because this is not one of those magical stories of miraculous redemption. Debra does not become a good parent to her grandchild right away, and never becomes a great one. Instead, the film follows her throughout years of her life, during which, naturally, she must go on living as she mourns. Miller embodies each stage of this perfectly, never once allowing drama tropes to disturb her unflinching portrayal of an ordinary life.

Jeff Goldblum in The Mountain

What does the word “monster” conjure for you? Whatever traits it brings to mind, they are all present in Dr. Wallace Fiennes. He’s an egotistical, self-interested, callous man who performs lobotomies on mental patients in the 1950’s American heartland, the kind of person for whom his gruesome practice is not an outmoded method to be improved on by advancement, but an art form in itself, and his patients merely the canvas. This isn’t handled like a horror movie: Goldblum is not a mad scientist cackling away in a lab, but an urbane, cultured, engaging professional---which makes him all the more frightening.

Gugu Mbatha-Raw in Fast Color

Wonder Woman and Captain Marvel were, to a large extent, a marketing department’s ideal female superheroes: always flawless, gorgeous even when kicking ass, unable to make any very serious mistakes. Ruth is very much not that. She’s living wherever she can, dealing with the effects of past addictions, running from the government, scared of her own powers. She’s not just unlike any other woman in tights (without the tights), she’s unlike any mainstream superhero ever has, can or will be. Mbatha-Raw is one of our most underrated actresses, and she portrays Ruth in a way that allows us to both sympathize with her plight and support her as she grows stronger. The movie’s not getting a sequel, because the Hollywood franchise machine isn’t ready for imperfect superheroes yet, but it is getting a series, so at least we’re getting more of Ruth in some medium.

Renee Zellweger in Judy

I won’t pretend I knew much about Judy Garland going in, and frankly I’m not sure I understand her after seeing the movie---it was, in most respects, a fairly typical music biopic. Where it broke the mode is in Zellweger’s performance. I think it’s fair to say the once-household name has been largely forgotten by Hollywood in recent years; she never had the perfect starlet looks or the ideal girl-next-door adorableness that is the main standard on which women are judged. But she had the acting chops, and here she finally gets to prove it. Her Garland is twisted and gnarled inside and out by years of sexist treatment and the resulting substance abuse, but still a loving mother to her children and a great singer---and justifiably angry at the industry that used her up and spit her out.

Paul Walter Hauser in Richard Jewell There was never a single chance of seeing the camera pan to Hauser during Sunday’s roll call of acting nominees---both he and the person he plays are about the polar opposite of Hollywood’s image of itself. And it must be said that while Jewell should not be forgotten, Eastwood’s movie, with its ginned-up anti-press narrative, maybe should be. But none of that is on Hauser, whose performance firmly proves that fat guys can be more than bumbling comedic relief or ineffective sidekicks in the movies. It matters that someone who looks like Jewell is portraying him, and that he does it so well that we can almost overlook the film’s other faults.

  Honor Swinton Byrne in The Souvenir

This one was little-seen, and though it generated awards buzz initially, it’s already been largely forgotten. That’s too bad. Byrne’s Julie is a woman torn between her own ambitions and her love for a man who is---abusive? How to judge him? It’s a toxic relationship fueled by addiction on his part, but the movie is more about how you cope with a partner who is committed but not capable of commitment. Perhaps the most resonant aspect of Julie’s character is the way she holds out hope even when everyone tells her not to, even when she herself knows deep down that it is hopeless. You may find this weak, but I’ve never known a human being who wasn’t in some measure susceptible to it.

Jonathan Pryce and Anthony Hopkins in The Two Popes Everyone has strong feelings about the Catholic Church---it’s not a thing you go half-measures on. And every Catholic has strong feelings about the last two Popes---again, they aren’t the kind of personalities that inspire milquetoast reactions. What Pryce and Hopkins do in portraying Francis and Benedict, respectfully, is remind us that no matter how much they claim to be the chosen of God, these are after all two men---two men with flaws and opinions, whose own lives have shaped them every bit as much as the Bible or the church. When they are on screen together, you can imagine them in an odd couple buddy comedy, two aging road trippers tending to the flock. Lots of performances didn’t make my arbitrary 20-point cutoff. To be dead honest with you, it’s entirely possible that if you ask me in a year, I’ll have re-considered who is on the main list and who is in the honorable mentions; the idea that what I say now, when all these movies are fresh in my mind and affected by immediate emotional reaction, has to be my inviolate opinion for all time is silly. That said, here are some excellent and noteworthy performances that didn’t quite make the cut.

Leonardo DiCaprio and Brad Pitt in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

Kelvin Harrison, Jr. in Waves

Zack Gottsagen in The Peanut Butter Falcon

Isabela Moner in Dora and the Lost City of Gold

Alessandro Nivola in The Art of Self-Defense

Cate Blanchett in Where’d You Go, Bernadette?

More or less everyone in Little Women (I couldn’t decide, and thought more of the acting than the overall film)

Jodie Turner-Smith in Queen and Slim

Cynthia Erivo in Harriet

Kaitlyn Dever in Booksmart

Edward Norton in Motherless Brooklyn

[takeyourcritique]

Makoto Niijima: Good Girl, Bad Writing.

In video games, movies, TV, and books, there are always characters who receive copious amounts of praise. In Persona 5, it is no different. Some characters deserve the hype they get, and some.. do not. In my humble opinion, Makoto Niijima falls into the latter category and in this essay I will explain why, as well as delve into what I as a writer would do to improve her character. Because this is not a hate meta, it is merely me articulating my issues with her character and getting my thoughts in order. (She has potential, it merely needs to be utilized and with P5R coming next year, a girl can hope.)

1. Underwhelming Design

The cast of Persona 5, in contrast to the casts before them, are vigilantes, a band of misfits if you will. The entire theme of the game is rebellion against society and fighting the norm, and the characters should reflect this in their design. The only exception is the protagonist himself because he's on probation and attempting to keep a low profile: that's why he follows the dress code to a tee and appears as gentle as possible, because he's already in enough trouble as is. The first party member, Ryuji, has been a rebel for a good amount of time: his hair is a stark blond (which Kawakami-sensei does not approve of) and he wears a very casual version of the school uniform; substituting a bright yellow shirt for the white of the uniform, wearing sneakers instead of dress shoes, and not wearing his suspenders (they're attached though, at the waist).

Ann Takamaki wears a white clover hoodie under her blazer, red leggings under her skirt, brown lace up boots, and earrings; not to mention her hair, while a natural blonde, is pulled back into cutesy pigtails almost like a teenage Harley Quinn. Yusuke doesn't even go to the same school, so his attire stands out in stark contrast with the main trio. Futaba dyes her hair red and she doesn't go to school at all due to severe anxiety; Haru wears a poofy pink sweater over her uniform with Mary Janes and polka dot tights. They all stick out like little sore thumbs. Except Makoto. She basically also follows the dress code, with a few subtle changes:

•She doesn't wear a blazer, instead wearing a black halter vest over her turtleneck

•Black tights

•Brown boots

That's literally it. Nothing about her stands out, and even in her casual clothing she wears a lot of whites and blacks. There's a monochromatic vibe to her, perhaps alluding to her strong sense of justice and distinction between right and wrong which in and of itself isn't bad! But it doesn't fit with the theme of the cast, Makoto fits in too much with the rest of the world to fit in with them. Just by looking at her, you cannot tell she's supposed to be part of the crew and in all honesty she'd fit better working with Akechi due to their very similar views of justice and morals. Hell, some NPCs are more vibrant design-wise than Makoto is.

2. Her Metaverse design, Persona and codename are contradictory.

Makoto's Persona, Johanna, is based most likely off Pope Joan, (after doing research online and reading Johanna's profile on SMT wiki it seemed the best fit) who was a woman that pretended to be a man in order to rise to power in an otherwise male-only role in the Catholic church. And while the story is intriguing, it doesn't fit Makoto at all: she never pretended to be what she was not and while she's "the voice of reason" she's not the leader of the team; Joker is. This makes her codename, "Queen", even more confusing. Nothing about her costume design looks regal whatsoever; it makes no sense. It feels like writer's favoritism, in all honesty. A better name would've been something more related to the fact that she looks like a biker/executionist hybrid; like "Crusher" or something of more..violent nature.

Even a name related to her wanting to go into the force would've worked well: Chief, Lieutenant, etc. Queen is nice, but it doesn't click with Makoto at all, unlike literally everyone else's Persona and codename. Ann's Persona, Carmen, is a femme fatale that kills men. Captain Kidd is a pirate, an iconic symbol of rebellion; Milady, Haru's Persona, is a reference to a villainess of the same name in the 3 Musketeers; Goemon was essentially a Japanese Robin Hood which fits Yusuke's entire kitsune/warrior aesthetic. Joker's Persona, Arsene, is a direct nod to Arsene Lupin; who was one of Sherlock's rivals and a gentleman thief who left calling cards to the people he robbed and a direct parallel to Akechi.

3. Her introduction as a whole, and to the team, is abysmal.

When Makoto is first introduced to the player, the entire school is in turmoil over Kamoshida's abusive actions towards the volleyball and track team. Many people don't know the truth about what's going on, and others simply turn a blind eye because as an Olympic medalist, the gym coach brings in a lot of popularity for the school. Being the student council president, Makoto has power that many other students do not have; so one would assume that upon learning that a victim was in danger she would spring into action, no?

Wrong.

When Ann confronts Makoto about her inaction, she turns the question back on the blonde, asking "What have YOU done for Shiho?" as if it's Ann's fault that Shiho had been jeopardized (which it was not, Ann allowed herself to be blackmailed by Kamoshida in order, so she thought, to protect her best and at the time, only friend). And she doesn't do anything about the situation, claiming that "It has nothing to do with me." (This is how abuse victims DIE.) Even worse, her elder sister is a prosecutor, she could've easily gone to Sae and asked her to look into the matter. Goro Akechi later calls her out on this, as he should; telling her that she is a "good-girl pushover". And when Kamoshida is punished for his crimes, Ann, who was bullied and outcast, goes to Makoto and apologizes to HER to make amends, as if she were wrong. Makoto then replies "We both made mistakes" in a sorry apology (she doesn't even say "I'm sorry" iirc), and asks if she can call Ann by her first name and without honorifics, which in Japan is a symbol of close friendship. (Edit: this apology actually takes place after Kaneshiro's arc, not Kamoshida's, I misremembered.)

You see, calling someone by their given name, even if you are the same age, has a ton of meaning in the culture. Just a year difference between two people can separate them as senpai and kouhai, and while the senpai can call their kouhai by their first name without raising any eyebrows it's not the same for the younger person. Calling someone by their given name in Japan is a privilege, not a right; it represents trust, respect, everything that Makoto and Ann did NOT have.

Now, let me get this straight.

Makoto did nothing when everybody called Ann Kamoshida's hoe, allowed her, Shiho, Akira, Ryuji and Mishima plus many others to suffer abuse (and Shiho attempted suicide!), gave a laughable apology, victim-blamed Ann; and now she wants to be buddy-buddy? What, in any reality, about that is okay? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. But of course, because the writers want us to love Makoto, they have Ann forgive her and let her call her by her first name. And after all that, Makoto is still president, despite her clear nonchalance to the matter. She also does nothing to help the Kamoshida victims after his crimes come to light, when there was literally no excuse anymore not to assist them and help them get back on their feet. Even if she felt powerless with Kamoshida around, that doesn't explain her inaction after he's gone.

Flash forward two Palaces later, when she joins the team. Makoto stalks the protagonist around to gather evidence that he is a Phantom Thief, and then blackmails her way into the ranks. The team of course, is not happy about this at all. Makoto gives them the target; Junya Kaneshiro, who's basically forcing people into debt. The problem here is she has literally no personal ties to him; unlike the main trio all having connections to Kamoshida and Yusuke being Madarame's essential foster son. Tired of Sae calling her useless, Makoto jumps in front of the mob boss's car in desperation (and Ryuji gets her out of the way JUST in time, but he very easily could've died) which puts the entire team in danger and later on is literally pinned down by the mob and the crew have to go and save her because she was so determined to take this dude down she walked into the lion's den without any form of a plan. (He was also going to sell her into prostution to pay off the debt he'd given the Thieves.)

Her Awakening is also really weak: the speech from Johanna is extremely short and then Makoto stomps the ground to avoid falling over, rips off her mask with a bunch of overdramatic screaming (iirc we don't even get to see blood) and whoop-di-doo, she's got a motorcycle! And suddenly, despite all she's done, everybody loves her and thinks she's a total badass when she literally just threw an adult-sized tantrum. The motorcycle itself is also very lazy, it's just a motorcycle with a face. That's it. That's Makoto's Persona. A motorcycle. With. A. Face.

And from then on, everybody's suddenly a-ok and buddy-buddy with Makoto. It's ridiculous and just makes her come off as a Mary Sue because if somebody endangered my life I sure as hell would not be rubbing shoulders with them and I'm quite sure most people feel the same way. And again, after all this, Makoto does not get in trouble or even harshly reprimanded by the school for her extremely reckless actions; when she should have, and had the power to, just call the police or Sae. And all the Thieves somehow are now her friends and she gets to become a superhero.

So let me see if I understand. This girl stalks these people, blackmails them and forces them to go after hardened criminals (she was going to snitch on them if they didn't comply to her demands), goes in guns blazing by HERSELF to attempt to take down the mob boss, has to be rescued..

And gets praised and dubbed a badass for this???

And before you accuse me of having bias against Makoto, let it be known I in no way, shape or form condone Yusuke stalking Ann or Futaba blackmailing the Thieves either. It's. Still. Wrong.

Also, if you unironically think Makoto's stalking is cute, you're wrong. Stalking is creepy, regardless if it's a girl or guy doing it; no one gets a pass.

In addition, Makoto couldn't be bothered to help out at school but then goes after a MOB BOSS and puts herself in unnecessary danger? What's up with that?? If she felt powerless against Kamoshida, why in the world would she take on the Yakuza?

4. Her backstory doesn't mesh well with the rest of the team.

The gang are all outcasts and misfits in one way or another, and their pasts are less than savory.

Protagonist: Falsely accused of assaulting a woman, expelled from school and sent to Tokyo on a year probation despite his innocence, victim of nasty rumors by other students at his new school; abused by his gym coach, no contact with parents.

Ryuji: Abusive, alcoholic father who beat him and llater left him and his mother, abused by his gym coach, leg broken by his gym coach and labeled as a delinquent because his coach lied and acted like Ryuji attacked him, thus alienating him from the track team and by extent; the entire school. Losing his track scholarship because he can't run anymore, ruining his academic career.

Ann: Two parent household but they're never home, leaving her with a caretaker. Faced bullying and isolation due to being biracial (she's a quarter American), only having one friend before joining the Phantom Thieves. Blackmailed by the gym coach and sexually harassed in order to keep this one friend on the volleyball team, labeled as a slut because no one took the time to find out the truth of the matter. Friend is later raped and attempts suicide, Ann attempts to get help from the student council president but is blamed herself for Shiho's predicament. Also judged just for her looks, which she despises.

Yusuke: Biological father died presumably before his birth, biological mother had a seizure and died due to his mentor's negligence. Said mentor then takes Yusuke, a very small child at this point in time, and raises him in isolation. Psychologically (and very likely emotionally) manipulated, Kitagawa grows up in an abusive household and when confronted with the truth, is unwilling to believe it is so (as many abusive victims realistically behave). Later learns the truth about his mother and his mentor's plagiarism and detaches himself from him, but is extremely socially awkward out of touch due to isolation and as a result is isolated at school because no one wants to talk to him.

Futaba: Was blamed for her mother's death (whom she lost at 13-14) and lived with an extremely abusive uncle who underfed her and didn't even let her bathe herself. Developed severe anxiety and became suicidally depressed for over a year, refusing to even come out of her room. Had a friend who was abused by her parents and upon finding out the two fell out and only reconciled years later through the Internet. Bullied in school for her intellect.

Haru: Lost her mother at a young age, engaged against her will to an emotionally abusive, selfish fiancé for the sake of her father's company. Has deep-rooted trust issues due to people being kind to her solely because of her status; or mean for the exact same reasons. Later on lost her father as well at the age of 17, leaving all the responsibility of the company to her as she was the sole heir.

Morgana: Has no memories of who, or what, he used to be and suffers existential crises; suffers from vivid nightmares. Puts up a façade of arrogance to hide insecurities.

Makoto: Mother died when younger, father died in the line of work, older sister forced to become caretaker and work her rear off to provide for the both of them. Pressured into perfection by Sae.

That's.. literally it. Yes, she has no friends at school, but that's by her choice; she isolates herself in her studies and as a result is socially awkward and doesn't know how to interact with people (which makes her even less suitable to be put into any type of leadership position so how she became student council president is beyond me.) Makoto's life is heaven compared to the other Thieves and most of her issues would go away once she gets to college: the rest of the team doesn't have that luxury. By the way, please don't think I'm saying she doesn't deserve to be on the team because she doesn't have as deep a sob story, I'm not saying that at all. It's just that her backstory isn't really utilized as well as it should be and often times conflict is used to try to get the player to feel sorry for her (i.e. Sae calling her useless)

5. Her Confidant is abysmal and cliché.

So Makoto's Confidant actually starts out not half bad! You take her out to play video games and help her come out of her shell initially. But then it shifts to Eiko, an old friend of hers, who is a bad relationship. And this is when the Confidant begins to suffer, because it's not even about Makoto anymore. The president tells Eiko about the danger she's in, and her old classmate does not listen; declaring that since the older girl does not have a boyfriend she couldn't possibly understand. This logic is very flawed; it's like telling a smoker to stop smoking and they tell you "You don't even smoke, you don't know how bad it is". Yet Makoto listens to Eiko and comes to you, the protagonist; and asks you to pretend to be her boyfriend in order to convince her friend that she DOES understand. But it's so awkward Eiko's boyfriend and the girl herself can tell you're not genuine. And you have to keep this up for the rest of the Confidant, not to mention MAX Charm is required from Rank 5 onward in this route. Why?

Because apparently you're not attractive enough otherwise. And it's not even for Makoto, it's for Eiko, to convince her that you're hot enough to compare to her boyfriend; Takase. (Geez, shallow and childish much?) And then at the end of the Confidant, the romance angle comes off as very odd because you're literally treated like an afterthought the entire time and then suddenly Makoto turns around and wants you as her actual boyfriend?? Uh..where was her falling for you during the time spent together? It just feels like it comes outta nowhere, not to mention she wants to be a cop which the law literally ruined Joker's life soooo why is he getting into a romantic relationship with someone who wants to be associated with a source of his trauma? That's like a metaphorical slap in his face.

"Hey, I know you were literally beaten and drugged up, manhandled, falsely accused and put into solitary confinement by the law enforcement, causing you to suffer severe anxiety and you to possibly be scarred forever but I wanna be a cop even though I don't think straight in stressful situations and act on impulse and don't take insults or criticism well; and I want you to stay by my side even though I blackmailed you, stalked you, and endangered your life and did nothing while you were being abused by your gym coach."

(Let's not forget she also didn't say anything about Sae having a Palace until it was almost too late and Joker almost lost Futaba as a result.)

For Valentine's Day she declares "I've been waiting for you for so long" and that genuinely bewildered me because you don't really see her pining at all during her Confidant, nor during other events (the closest thing you get is her clinging to you in Sojiro's house but that's honestly not even romantic that's just her getting frightened and needing assurance in a very unnecessary "ship tease" moment). Same with the scene in Futaba's Palace, while Joker saving Queen was very sweet, he literally would've done that for anybody of his teammates. Makoto is not special in that regard.

6. How to better this character

•Introduce her to the Thieves in a better, more plot driven way, or remove her from the team completely.

Kaneshiro's arc should honestly just be scrapped, it was a sorry attempt to get Makoto on the team. A better time for her to join would be Sae's Palace since she actually has emotional ties to the Palace owner and by this time in the game could've developed to be a better person from the Kamoshida arc, wanting to make things right. This could also be a good start for her and Ann to begin to be on better terms- not even necessarily friends (because after what happened I honestly don't think Ann would want to be friends, at least not close), but learning to at least be civil. That, or she joins out of desperation because she doesn't want anything bad to happen to Sae and as the infiltration continues gets more and more nervous and ultimately rats their plan out (because Makoto as the traitor would be much better, writing-wise).

Alternatively, Hifumi joining instead of Makoto would also be very refreshing with Makoto covering up for them at school and supporting them on the sly.

•Treat her flaws as actual flaws, she's not perfect.

Makoto does have some bad traits, a few being:

•bad tempered

•reckless

•stubborn

•nosy

•hypocritical

•bossy

•socially awkward

But these are almost never treated in a negative light. With the Kamoshida arc and Kaneshiro arc, all is simply forgiven, same with her smacking Eiko across the face in a moment of anger. Even when wrong, Makoto is never wrong per say and this makes it difficult for her to be believable as a character. To fix this, having her suffer the consequences of her actions will make it more realistic. For example, getting Eiko to break up with her boyfriend but cutting ties with her too as a result would give Makoto the rude awakening that you can do the right thing the wrong way and people will not always forgive you for the mess you put them through (nor should they).

Her being punished for unnecessarily putting herself in danger with Kaneshiro would also be understandable (she should've been at least suspended, she could've gotten herself killed, plus all the then existing Phantom Thieves); as well as actually apologizing for the hell that was Kamoshida's drama. And not just to Ann, but everyone who suffered. That would show maturity and a willingness to change, and put her in a better light.

I want Makoto to get mad and she's fully in the wrong and she acknowledges she's wrong, have her recklessness get her or a teammate wounded in battle, etc. And have the others call her out when she's wrong and refuse to let it slide. Have them talk it out, grow as a team. Just..make Makoto fallible, flawed, broken even. She's an orphan, I want to touch more on her having to grow up quickly, feeling lonely and unsure of how to connect with people; talk about how her father is a driving force in her values and morals and how she wishes to honor him by following in his footsteps.

Delve into how she feels less than worthy if she does not achieve excellence but do it in a way that does not demonize Sae unnecessarily and try to make the reader/player feel sorry for her. Have Makoto spend more time with people in her team outside of team duties and while being awkward, genuinely interested and actively working to better her relationships. (She barely interacts with anyone besides Joker, Futaba, and on occasion, Haru) When Makoto is realistically flawed, she then becomes relatable and much more likable.

I want her fears to be plot relevant, not just slapped on for the sake of making her look "cute". Her being scared of the dark was never relevant, unlike Rei from Persona Q who was scared of the dark and had to go through a pitch black room in order to find key cards to help her friends escape a locked room or Yukari being terrified of death and having to come to terms with that. Same with her fixation for Buchimaru, it's cute but it doesn't add any depth to her character whatsoever or even her apparently knowing aikido? We never see Makoto fight outside the Metaverse unlike Chie or Akihiko so it feels like a character trait just slapped on to make her 'cooler'. It feels lazy, because it is. It's like the writers wanted her to be this strong, independent young woman but at the same time a scared, awkward little girl and the two ideas often clash; coming off as contradictory as if they couldn't make their minds up as to who they wanted Makoto to be.

Again, this is not an attack on Makoto fans. If you like her, that's valid and I respect that. I'm merely explaining why I don't and how I feel the writing failed her character and what I believe she'd be if her potential was maximized.

That's all, have a good day.

[frizz22]

Prompt here! I’ve really been missing the one-shots focused on Sabrina and Zelda. Could you do one where Zelda was actually there (instead of w/ Blackwood), along with Hilda, when Sabrina got shot with the arrows and ‘died?’ Thank you!

Note: Faustus not an asshole. Ambrose and other Judas boys just imprisoned, not killed.

Note 2: I know this is dealing with the same event as the last story, but the prompts were just similar enough that I had ideas for both of them back to back. Hope you still enjoy! Read on ao3  

They’d postponed the wedding. The death of the Anti-Pope rocking their coven and covens worldwide. Faustus apologized for the wait, but he’d been selected to return the warlock’s body to Rome. A great honor, and not one lightly given.

Zelda understood, and though she wanted to join him on the trip, bolster him as she’d promised (and perhaps make a case for Ambrose while she was there), it would be unseemly to go without an express invitation. 

So, she stayed behind. Faustus kissing her goodbye, lingering and promising to wed her the moment he returned and they straightened out this mess. Zelda couldn’t help but give him a ghost of a smile and peck him once more on the lips before he left.

In his absence, Zelda promised to stay at Blackwood manor and watch over Judas. Though she did pop over to her house regularly with the boy, unable to stay away from her family during yet another tumultuous time.

But the past day and a half, Zelda hadn’t made it back to the house, Judas suffering from an earache and needing her full attention. She’d just managed to get the boy to bed, instructing the nanny to keep an ear out should he cry while Zelda was taking a much-needed nap, when the mirror in the hallway pinged.

Sighing, Zelda hurried over and answered it, hoping it was Faustus but assuming it was yet another coven member asking after Anti-Pope. She was stunned when Hilda and Sabrina’s faces filled the glass; talking over one another as they tried to tell her about hunters, being attacked and needing to get to the academy to warn the others but none of them had access.

“I’ll meet you there.” Zelda interrupted them, ending the call and rushing out of the house with a brief call over her shoulder to the nanny not to let anyone inside. With that, she cast an extra protective spell over the manor and teleported to the academy.

Hilda, Sabrina and Nick arrived moments after her, with Harvey Kinkle in tow. Zelda didn’t bother to question why the mortal boy was there, with a shotgun no less, they had more pressing matters.

As she opened the front doors, Zelda had a spell ready in her hand. “They planned this well,” she muttered, as they slowly progressed down the hall. “Faustus and I would have both been gone on our honeymoon. If things had gone to plan, you wouldn’t have been able to get into the school, to warn or check on anyone.”

“Well, I do have my hands of glory,” Hilda murmured, right beside Zelda as they made their way further into the building; a spell ready in her hand as well. “So, we’d have gotten in, it just would’ve taken much longer. And with hunters—”

“Time is of the essence,” they finished together darkly. It was then they reached the main junction in the hallway, the statue of the Dark Lord utterly destroyed and smears of blood covering the floors.

Blanching, Zelda did a sweep of the room and found nothing. “Satan, we’ll have to search the whole place room by room.” When Sabrina looked as though she were going to suggest something, Zelda cut her off. “We’re staying together. No one is going off by themselves and becoming a potential target for the hunters.” Her niece’s mouth clamped shut and she nodded in agreement.

Just then, a crash sounded from one of the side halls. Zelda led the way over, wanting to rush in case it was a student, but forcing herself to be vigilant in case a trap greeted them instead. What she found had her abandoning any caution.

“Ambrose!” She exclaimed, hurrying forward with Hilda on her heels to where their nephew had apparently just collapsed, a vase cracked and broken next to him where he’d knocked it off a side table.

Pale and sweaty, Ambrose opened his eyes. “Aunties,” he managed a weak smile and reached out to touch Zelda’s cheek, leaving a smear of blood there. “Hunters attacked. Some of the students let me and the other Judas boys out of our cells when it became apparent the Weird Sisters couldn’t take on the hunters. We ran to help, but, they’re—” Ambrose gasped and his back arched slightly in pain.

Hilda was already running diagnostic tests on him, casting spells that seemed to have little effect. “I know, love. I’m sorry, I’m doing all I can.” She whispered, placing a comforting hand on Ambrose’s brow.

Not wanting to push Ambrose too far, but needing more information, Zelda clasped his hand between hers. “The hunters are what, Ambrose?” She urged.

“They’re angels, Aunties. Strong ones too. They killed someone, got their hand so they could enter the school. And then…” His eyes drifted over the destruction inside the academy.

Taken aback, Zelda glanced at the others who’d formed a semi-circle around Ambrose. “Angels,” she breathed, thanking Satan Sabrina and Hilda had made it through their encounters with the horrible creatures unscathed.

With some effort, Ambrose nodded in the affirmative. “They hurt and killed a few students, myself included,” he swallowed hard, “and took the rest to the Church of Night.”

“The Church? How?” Nicholas asked, stepping closer.

A pained chuckle escaped Ambrose. “They converted it. Blessed it with holy water.”

Zelda gasped, hand flying to cover her mouth. “Planned this well indeed.” She spat, the idea of her beloved Church of Night being desecrated by angels filling her with even more rage—and considering she’d already been rather full of fury at their audacity to attack, this was impressive. “We’ll have to work around that somehow.”

“Work around it?” Harvey cut in, confused. “What do you mean? Can’t we just go in, guns and spells blazing?”

Scoffing, Zelda stood, giving Hilda more room to work so that she could heal Ambrose. “No. If the angels really have converted it, witches cannot enter. We’ve not been baptized in the false god’s holy water,” she paced away, trying to think. They could hardly abandon the students to their fate, but the angels had clearly planned ahead, made it so it was nearly impossible for witch reinforcements to come in and help.

“I can go in,” Sabrina breathed, drawing all eyes to her. “I was baptized in the Catholic Church, I can go in, I can help.” She nodded vigorously, almost to herself, already turning to leave.

Zelda caught her niece’s arm. “Like Heaven you’re going.” She stated, grip tightening on Sabrina.

Huffing, Sabrina tried to shake Zelda off. “Who else is going to do it? You can’t. Aunt Hilda can’t, Nick can’t. Only Harvey… or me.”

And oh, how she hated that Sabrina was right. There was little they could do, in terms of infiltrating the church; their only options were Sabrina or a mortal with a gun. Lips twisting, Zelda shook her head. “You’re both children, I’m not sending you in to face Beelzebub knows how many hunters on your own.”

“Zelds,” Hilda’s voice captured her attention and she turned to her sister. “It’s the only way. No witch can enter except for Sabrina. I hate it as much as you do, but we can’t let the others die.”

Desperately wishing she had time to smoke a cigarette, Zelda speared a hand through her hair. “Alright,” she acquiesced, unwillingly but knowing it was the only way; just as Hilda said. “But I’m coming with you. These hunters don’t know the church like I do. It’s possible they didn’t convert the old catacombs that run underneath, they’ll be expecting a frontal attack if they expect one at all. We might just be able to get the jump on them.”

She turned to where Ambrose was still whimpering quietly on the ground, his injuries no better than when they arrived, torn. Torn between putting her niece in harm’s way and abandoning her badly injured nephew in order to save witches that did not mean nearly as much to her and staying here. Staying here and protecting her family at the cost of the coven.

It was horrible, she knew. To even consider staying. To even consider keeping her family close and safe at the expense of so many others. But she’d lost too many family members already, Zelda couldn’t lose any others.

Sensing her dilemma, Hilda reached up and took her hand, gripping it hard. When she brought her eyes to meet Hilda’s, a look of understanding passed between them and they nodded at one another.

“Alright,” she repeated and then turned to the others. “Hilda is staying here to care for Ambrose. Nicholas, you will stay as well. It appears the hunters have abandoned the school in favor of the church, we’d have been attacked by now otherwise. But I want you to secure the building, search every room looking for lingering intruders and survivors. Bring the survivors to Hilda at once in the infirmary, then continue your sweep. Once you’re done, help Hilda with the injured.”

The young warlock nodded and set off at once, stopping only briefly to kiss Sabrina chastely on the lips and tell her to be safe.

Zelda then turned to her niece. “To be clear, if I were able to enter the church myself you would not be coming. But seeing as how I need your and Mr. Kinkle’s help, you’re coming along. But,” she held up a finger and pinned the two with a glare. “You are to do everything, everything I say when I say it, as I say it. Am I clear?”

The two teens nodded at her, and with a final look at her sister and nephew, Zelda teleported them to the edge of the clearing surrounding the church.

“Stay.” She ordered in a whisper, pointing to a large patch of trees and brush the two could hide behind. When they complied, Sabrina somewhat unwillingly, Zelda crept forward. There was light spilling out of the open church doors, leaving a patch on light on the grass.

Arrogant, she thought, slipping closer and peering inside. These hunters were good, but they were also arrogant, flaunting their victory. They’d left all the students they’d dragged from the academy alive, though; Zelda could see Prudence and her sisters tied to wooden posts while the others were forced to kneel on the ground.

Hurrying back to where she left Sabrina and Harvey, Zelda put a finger to her lips when Sabrina looked ready to talk. “Everyone’s alive, for now. They’ve left the catacombs unguarded, as I suspected, you’ll be able to come up behind the pulpit out of sight. Once you’re there, I’ll cause a distraction. You need to then untie the other students and usher them out through the tunnels. Signal me when you’re all out.”

Frowning, Sabrina bit her lip. “And what kind of distraction will be big and long enough that I can get everyone out?”

“You’ll see. But Harvey will be helping you untie them, it’ll go faster. Here,” she conjured two brutally sharp knives. “Don’t hurt yourselves, and don’t hurt anyone you’re cutting free. Take your time, speed is needed, but efficiency more so.”

Nodding, Sabrina glanced around, “how do we get in?”

With a wave of her hand, a fallen tree slid to the side, revealing a stone staircase. “It is a straight shot, no chances of getting lost, praise Satan this is the one we need, the other tunnels under this church are a maze. Now go, take care.”

She turned back and glanced at the church, flexing her hands. When she shifted back around, Sabrina surged forward and hugged her briefly. “Be safe,” her niece murmured before taking Harvey’s hand and leading him down the stairs and into the catacomb.

Swallowing, Zelda rose and rolled her neck as she approached the church. Making no attempt to be quiet this time. A shadow darting across the small segment of light on the ground told her they knew she was there, was coming and were getting into position.

“This won’t be pleasant,” she muttered to herself, straightening up and calling out, her voice booming across the dwindling space between her and the church. “You have made a grave mistake, hunters. You thought you could come here? Attack my family?” She took another few strides, “attack my students, my coven and my church.” Zelda stopped just short of the light, now able to see everything inside, and the relief on the students faces when they realized she was there. “You thought you could come here, attack everything I hold dear and get away with?” Her eyes sparkled maliciously, “oh, no. You’ve made many mistakes tonight, hunters. And they will be your last.”

An arrow flew out the door at her and Zelda deflected it with a spell. They hadn’t marked the entire property with their holy water, just the building itself. Sloppy, arrogant work. It left them weak, as the catacombs evidenced. The building itself was off limits to Zelda, but everything surrounding, above and below, it was still unholy ground, and therefore Zelda could still use her magic.

“You cannot enter, witch.” A taunting voice called back and another arrow raced towards her.

Zelda batted this one aside just as easily. “And who says I need to enter to defeat you?” She retorted, concentrating hard on the face of the one hunter who’d darted across the doorway as he’d shot at her.

The young man was suddenly standing in front of her, blinking in confusion. Taking advantage of his shock, Zelda knocked the weapon from his hands, bound him with a spell and spun him around to show off to the others.

Angry rumblings sounded inside the church, the hunters cursing her and gathering around the door to see for themselves that their comrade was indeed now her hostage. Just behind them, Zelda could see Prudence and her sisters slide down the wooden posts they’d been tied to.

And if she listened hard, she could hear the soft rustlings of students escaping into the woods as they exited the catacombs. Sabrina’s signal sounded behind her a moment later, a long, low howl and a savage smile came to her face. Finally, she could slaughter these insolent creatures for coming for her family.

“You kill him, we kill one of yours!” One of the hunters finally called out, coming to their senses.

A harsh laugh escaped Zelda then. “One of mine?” She intoned, cocking her head but keeping behind the hunter in her grasp in case one of the others felt confident enough to try and shoot at her around their friend. “Are you sure about that?”

Several of the hunters whipped around and, in their outrage, cried out. Their hostages were gone, the way out sealed, and they were trapped inside a church with no provisions.

A series of insults were thrown her way, overlapping, but the essential message Zelda received was that she was a ‘devilish bitch who would die a thousand painful deaths’.

Smirking, Zelda snapped the neck of the hunter in front of her. “I will die? Oh, no,” she chuckled darkly, putting up a shield charm and stopping the volley of arrows that flew at her in response to the man falling limply to the ground. “You, on the other hand, you will die. Horrible, horrible deaths.” She grinned at them, and even in the limited light she could have sworn a few of the hunters stepped back in fear. “You attacked children before this. Now,” she shot a concussive spell at the church, and it collided, doing no damage but forcing the group of hunters back from the door instinctively.

She knew she couldn’t harm them while they were in the church, but perhaps she could bait them into leaving… it would be so much easier than trying to teleport them out one by one. And if they were truly angels, they’d likely be able to block her from summoning one of them again; the false god giving them enhanced abilities.

Then they started to chant, joining hands, a painful ringing started in Zelda’s head. Hurriedly, she summoned another out to her and snapped this one’s neck as well, but before she could do anything else, the chanting brought her to her knees; clasping her hands over her ears, Zelda barely took note that her ears were bleeding.

“NO!” The sound broke through the prayers of the angels, and Zelda focused long enough to realize Sabrina had snuck back into the church using the catacombs and was now standing behind the hunters. “You leave her alone!” She shouted, and several pews lifted into the air and shot at the hunters, forcing them to scatter and killing one who didn’t move fast enough.

Gasping, Zelda surged back to her feet and rushed the church. Like Heaven she was going to let her niece take on a group of angels alone. But she slammed into an invisible force when she tried to enter, the hunters’ seal still in place.

Staggering back from the collision, Zelda looked around desperately, trying to recapture the hunters attention and bring it back to herself. Trying to summon another one out to her, but the spell was blocked, just as she’d suspected—their prayer working in two parts, to hurt her and stop her spells.

Just then a scream sounded from inside the church.

“SABRINA!” She bellowed, darting forward once more and caught sight of Sabrina falling back, trying to find cover, an arrow protruding from her side. She was so focused on her niece’s retreat that Zelda didn’t notice the hunter creeping up the side of the church and raising her crossbow until it was too late.

The impact knocked the wind out of her, sending Zelda reeling back, the pain pinballing through her body. Another arrow punched her just below the first seconds later.

But she didn’t have time to fully register the pain, Sabrina was still trapped inside, getting cornered and her shield spells wouldn’t last long against the hunters’ powers. She stumbled back to the door just in time to see a hunter raise his crossbow again, ready to shoot her girl point blank.

Something dark swelled within Zelda, something unholy and raw and beyond anything she’d ever felt in all her decades of life. One hand pressed between the arrows protruding from her side, the other was suddenly out in front of her, magic flowing freely, without thought.

The church started to shake, dust and rubble falling from the rafters of the old building and distracting the hunters long enough for Sabrina to disappear back through the trap door leading to the catacombs. But just because Sabrina had escaped didn’t mean Zelda stopped; they’d hunted her girl, intended to kill. Zelda would return the favor. The shaking intensified.

Maybe she couldn’t enter a holy place, maybe she couldn’t touch them while they were inside a holy place. But they’d been sloppy and arrogant and hadn’t converted the entire property. Meaning, the rules about entering a holy place no longer applied if there wasn’t a building left. If there was nothing holy standing around them, protecting them.

A wordless scream ripped itself from Zelda’s throat as the building falling in on itself; the stones tumbling down with heavy thuds and the hunters screaming inside. When she finished, nothing left of the church but rumble and nothing left of the hunters but crushed bone and blood, Zelda collapsed in exhaustion and pain; each breath feeling like fire.

Vision going in and out, Zelda just made out Prudence and her sisters running to her, Harvey standing behind them, propping up a half-conscious Sabrina before she passed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~

She woke later, gasping and hand flying to her side in search of the arrow. Hilda started at her side, crying out in delight. “Zelds, oh, thank Satan. I wasn’t, I couldn’t… the damned arrows were tipped with holy water, my spells didn’t make a damned difference…”

Slightly disoriented, Zelda turned to focus on her sister. “Sabrina? Ambrose? The other students?” She demanded, already sitting up despite Hilda’s protests.

Waving her hands, Hilda brushed away her concern. “All safe, all okay.”

“But the arrows…” Zelda’s head snapped up from where she’d been probing at her side, but it was as if the arrows had never been there. “You didn’t heal me?”

Hilda shook her head, tears in her eyes. “I tried, Zelds. But one pierced your lung, that and the holy water and the amount of magic you used to destroy the church and the hunters… I thought I lost you.” Hilda whispered, tears now falling freely.

Brow furrowing, Zelda stood on somewhat shaky legs; but she’d always hated vulnerability and laying in a sick bed made her feel dreadfully weak, so she stood. “Then how?”

Just then Sabrina appeared, parting the curtains shielding Zelda’s bed from the rest of the infirmary. “Me,” she whispered, eyes wide and unsure, twisting her hands.

Blinking, Zelda gaped at her niece, not a hint of evidence that she’d been injured either. “You?”

Sabrina nodded. Turning to look at Hilda, Zelda raised her brows, waiting for an explanation. “She healed Ambrose too,” was all Hilda added, looking just as lost as Zelda felt.

Returning her gaze to her niece, Zelda exhaled slowly trying to hide her fear. Whatever the meaning, whatever the origin of this sudden endowment of new powers would not end well… for anyone. Satan help them all.