#this was 11 years ago and I was so helplessly naive

[moonwreathe]

being 15 in the fairy tail rp community and running a Cana blog was such an interesting time. I was blissfully unaware of inflation anons. People would kill your muse in a thread with no warning. I didn’t even have a rules page.

[thisspaceintentionallyleftblank]

Try, Try Again (pt. 12)

(Cpt 1) | (Cpt 11) ||  (AO3)

Chapter 12 (2953 words)

There’s this cool movie, the kind that even older kids don’t usually get to watch, where a bunch of evil space aliens show up, eat people, and ruin everything. You know it’s hardcore because the poster has the tagline “In space, no one can hear you scream.”

Now, an angsty teen seeing this poster hanging over the horror movie section of the film store might assume that the screams in question are going unheard on account of everybody getting eaten by aliens. 

This however, is not completely true. 

Within the scientific community, experts agree that - evil aliens aside - sound simply cannot travel through space. Unlike light or heat, sound waves travel by causing surrounding particles to vibrate until some of these particles happen to smack into someone else’s eardrums.

So, if you happened to be aboard a spaceship whose engines have just imploded, ripping massive holes in the hull, forcibly venting the atmosphere, and leaving you hopelessly adrift in the vacuum of space, then there would be no particles left for your screams to vibrate. 

This again, is not completely true. 

Even in space, there are a few things left which can transmit sound - namely, the human skeleton. Microscopic vibrations are capable of traveling through the skull, from the jaw up to the tiny bones within the ear. This is the same principle behind those delightful singing toothbrushes, and is the reason why your voice always sounds different in recordings. 

The point here is that the truest thing to say, would be that in space, no one can hear you scream except yourself. 

Of course, this particular detail was of little importance to Emmet Brickowski as he found himself hurtling through the void of space, his own panicked wails ringing in his ears. 

The noise stopped abruptly as he slammed into ground, knocking the wind out of himself. He bounced at least three times, each impact as jarring as the first. Eventually though, his momentum dissipated and he began to slide on his back, leaving clean streaks in the dust and dirt before skidding to a stop in some kind of dark, cavernous space.

It was quiet here, and for a moment, that came as a comfort to Emmet. 

Then, with a mounting sense of dread, he took note of his leaden limbs and uncooperative vocal cords. 

He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He was paralyzed - a sensation both alarming and familiar. 

“I’ve been here before,” he thought. And, while he didn’t recognize his immediate surroundings, the sentiment still rang true. 

Years ago, he’d leapt from Lord Business’s tower into the Abyss below. His memory of the fall was vague, perhaps due to the time that had passed since or to the surreal, ephemeral nature of the fall itself. His memory of the place he’d found himself afterwards was much stronger. Just like now, he’d lain paralyzed on the ground, an unwitting witness to the events unfolding around him. 

He’d eventually escaped from that place, sent back by one of its strange inhabitants. 

Emmet stared up at the vast thing looming over him, unable to turn or look anywhere else. A cold voice in the back of his mind asked how any of those beings would be able to find him here. 

“It’s okay,” he told himself. “The raptors sent me out on this mission. They'll notice that I’m gone. They’re the ones that pre-programmed the flightplan, so they’ll already know where to look.”

At the time, he’d thought it was weird how the raptors had been rushing him around, especially considering that the ship seemed like it had been prepped a while ago. They’d been in such a hurry that no one had even explained what this new mission was or why none of the crew could come with. 

Emmet’s lips twitched in an attempted frown. His past concerns all felt so trivial in the light of this new situation.   

“They’ll find me soon,” he tried again to reassure himself. “I just have to be patient.” 

---

Ironically, Emmet found himself thinking about Vitruvius pretty regularly. 

It was ironic considering that Vitruvius was the only one of his friends that couldn’t possibly come to his rescue. Regardless, he was the one at the start of all this, and so Emmet’s thoughts routinely returned to the old man and his “fake but real” prophecy. 

Vitruvius had understood that these states were not mutually exclusive - a clarity granted to him after spending countless hours meditating, dwelling on the nature of the universe, and occasionally napping in a super enlightened manner. Trapped here in Undar, Emmet had nothing better to do than meditate himself, and as a result, he was beginning to better understand the truth that Vitruvius had seen. 

“The only thing anyone needs to be special is to believe that you can be,” Vitruvius had told him. “I know that sounds like a cat poster, but it’s true.”

The cat poster, like most things, existed somewhere beyond Emmet’s current prison - out of sight and out of reach. But, even here, he clung to his ability to believe.

The thing about belief is that its power is firmly rooted in the mind. It is something that you choose to do, and by choosing, you give power to the belief. 

These beliefs can be personal - like a New Year’s resolution. You convince yourself that you will eat better or exercise more and, as long as you remain committed to that belief, the resolution maintains its power. 

Beyond that though, there are many things in the world maintained only by the power of collective belief. Things like laws and money might seem like indisputable facts of nature, but in fact, their strength depends on society considering them as such. 

Take language for example. We know that every word was at some point invented by a person but, if everyone simultaneously started making up their own words instead of using those commonly agreed upon, then conversing might get eh fideckal discvanger upso.

It’s like the prophecy - something simultaneously made up and real. 

At first, Emmet was comfortable with this realization. It gave him a sense of comradery, this idea that society was based on mutual agreement and trust. But, the longer that he ruminated, the more that these thoughts ate at him. After all, the power of belief could only go so far…  

The thing about belief is that it can’t go beyond the mind. Believing that 2 plus 2 equals 5 won’t make your math teacher give you back points on your exam. Believing that you can fly won’t suddenly cause the laws of gravity to flip. 

Believing that your friends will come save you won’t make them appear. 

As time passed, Emmet felt the weight of this truth sink further and further into his chest. Here in Undar, he was quite literally trapped in his own mind. But, as he continued contemplating his situation, he began thinking that maybe he always had been. 

Maybe that’s why the other Apocalypseburgers had been tougher than him. Maybe they’d already recognized the lies inherent to the concept of belief. Maybe they’d all seen the truth of the world while Emmet just kept clinging to stupid things like instructions and turn signals. 

He lived in the world of belief - either too naive or too afraid to face reality, to face the fact that maybe just believing that you are special, that you are worthwhile, that you are loved… doesn’t make any of those things true. 

But now, trapped here, staring helplessly upwards into the maw of the machine above, he had no choice. Now reality screamed at him in the wind, and there was no amount of belief that could save him. 

---

“What are you going to do with him?”

The voice, muffled by the thick cell door, snapped Rex out of his reminiscing. 

Taped to the prison wall, Rex found himself slipping into thoughts about Undar far more easily than he was comfortable with. It made sense, considering that he was once again trapped and motionless, an unwilling witness to his friends talking, laughing, and joking with each other just beyond his reach.

The familiarity burned, a deep, hot ache in his chest. He pressed his eyes closed and forced himself to breathe, struggling to maintain his composure. 

He’d escaped from Undar, and he knew he could escape from this prison too. It was just a question of time, and if there was anything that he’d learned in Undar, it was patience.

He started trying to free his hands again. They were taped across his chest, his fingers tucked into his armpits. With every attempt to move, he could feel the fine hairs on his arms being ripped out. It hurt like heck, but it was only physical pain and so Rex could push past it.  

Dimly, he noticed the sound of the door opening. His eyes flashed open, and he forced himself to be still.

Lucy walked in, leveling a hateful gaze his way. Clearly, he thought, she was still upset about his little trick.

“Okay, listen,” Lucy started, her voice rusty. “I don’t know what your deal is, but I know that Emmet doesn’t deserve to get caught up in all this.”

She walked up to the Tape-estry, resting a hand on its edge. “Just tell us where he is,” she said, peeling the corner back slightly, “and maybe we’ll let you go.”

Rex frowned. If the others rescued Emmet from Undar, then things would play out like they had in the last timeline - except that this time, he’d be trapped and unable to access the flux capacitor. Rex wasn’t sure what would happen to him in a “Rex-less” timeline, but… he had a hypothesis. 

“Tough luck, sister,” he spat. “I think you'll find I’m a pretty tough nut to crack.”  

“Oh, you’re nutty for sure.” Lucy sneered, resealing the edge of the tape. 

She turned her back to the prisoner, stepping away as if to leave. Rex’s pulse sped up at the thought, and he cursed his treacherous heart. 

She stopped in the middle of the room, getting just enough distance to try and clear her head. She was certain that Rex was their only hope of finding Emmet. Benny may be able to track his ship, but that was less than useless if Emmet wasn’t on said ship. 

But how could she get Rex to talk? She knew nothing about the man except that he was dangerous and cruel. It seemed like he knew Emmet, but she just couldn’t understand how anyone familiar with her special best friend could do something as heartless as kidnapping him, or worse.

“Can you...” She started. “Can you at least tell me why Emmet?” 

Rex shrugged, wincing as the thoughtless motion caused the tape to pull at his skin again. “To protect him from all of you.”

“From… us?” She stepped back, physically shaken by the utter ridiculousness of the idea. “From his own friends? We wouldn’t hurt Emmet. We- we miss him! We just want him back! Want him to be safe!”

“You don’t want him back.” Rex muttered, exhausted by how obvious it all was. “You guys don’t even like him.” 

“How would you know?” Lucy hissed. “You don’t know us! You don’t know Emmet!”

“I am Emmet.” Rex stated flatly, the confession coming easier than he would have expected. 

Lucy’s fists clenched at her sides. She scowled, forcing herself to ignore the way her nails bit into her palms. “You’re an idiot if you think I’m falling for that again.” 

“I mean, I was Emmet. ” He replied dryly. “It’s time travel stuff, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Emmet could never do the things you've done. He would never lie… never hurt people.” 

“If you want,” Rex pressed on. “I could prove it. I could tell you something that only Emmet would know...”

Lucy didn’t turn. She couldn’t let him see the way his words wormed into her brain. She knew Rex was an imposter, a liar, but… she couldn’t deny that she wanted to hear what he’d say next.

“Like what?”

Rex smiled, the scent of blood in the air as the prey lumbered into a well placed trap. 

“I could tell you that he liked his coffee with just a touch of cream and 26 sugars.”

“Lots- Lots of people know that.”

“I could tell you that, back before the world ended - the first time that is - he told you that you were the first person to ever tell him that he could be special.”

Lucy kept her eyes pointed down. “That’s not proof, he could have tol-”

“I could tell you that I loved you.” Rex answered, his voice increasing in volume, the raw intensity of the sentiment overpowering his usual stoicism. “Even long after you stopped loving me. Even after you left me behind.”

Lucy whirled around, her face dark with rage. “How DARE yo-” 

She stopped abruptly, staring at the trapped man in shock. She was so ready to be angry, but the pain and grief on Rex’s face was dreadfully genuine.

“Why wasn’t I good enough?” Rex screamed, his voice cracking under the strain. “Why?” “Why wasn’t I good enough to come back for?” At some point, he’d stopped forcing his voice and it had slipped back into something unmistakably like Emmet’s, though Lucy had never heard Emmet like this. 

“S-Stop talking like that! You’re not Emmet.” She pressed her fists into her temples, trying to convince herself as much as Rex. “You’re just a vindictive jerk!”

“Well, Emmet wasn’t good enough either was he?!” Rex roared.

“I-” Her voice trembled. “You don't know what you’re talking abo-”

Rex laughed mirthlessly, interrupting her. He was rapidly losing his composure, but couldn’t seem to care. He managed to find a point of vulnerability, a chink in her armor. “Soft little Emmet… that poor, sweet guy. What a Hufflepuff he was. What a stupid loser he was.”

“Hey!” Lucy spat. “You don’t get to talk about him like that.” 

“But everyone else does?” Rex met her eyes, pinning her in place with his steely gaze. “But you do?”

“I don't….”

“What,” Rex asked in a low voice, “was the last thing you talked to Emmet about? Your Emmet? The real Emmet?”

Lucy froze. The last time she’d seen Emmet had been over a week ago, and the memory came to her slowly. He’d asked her yet again if he could come with her on a patrol, hadn’t he… which meant that…

“I told him that he couldn’t come with me.” Lucy droned, almost mechanically. “I told him that he wasn’t tough enough for patrols…”

“Exactly.”

“But that's not the same thing!” Lucy cried. Pricks burned at her eyes. “I was trying to protect him. Telling him that he's not tough isn’t the same as calling him a loser!”

“It is if you hear it enough.”

Rex’s voice was soft. Lucy took a pause. It was a hard thought to come to terms with.

“You… really are him, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Rex pushed. “And that’s why you need to trust that what I’m doing is in his best interest. If you go after Emmet,” Rex looked her directly in the eyes, “you'll only hurt him more.”

The tears started now. Lucy could do little more than tremble as they coursed down her cheeks. 

“Okay,” she whispered, no fight left in her voice.  

She stepped forward, and pulled Rex free from the tape. As he stepped down, he stretched out, flexing feeling back into his arms and legs. He turned towards her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“You made the right choice, Lucy.”

She shivered and watched him leave.

---

The winds had started up again, a persistent, rumbling thunder that shoved any thoughts out of his mind. 

If Emmet could have cried, he would have.

There was another sound somewhere in the distance, and Emmet braced himself for another one of those terrible, crawling monsters to appear. 

The sound came again, closer and clearer this time. It was a high-pitched droning noise, and with a flash, Emmet recognized it as the whine of an engine.

The drone cut off, abruptly replaced by the whirr of a docking mechanism and the hiss of an opening airlock. 

His heart soared in his chest. He knew the raptors would come for him. He knew it!

Unable to look over, Emmet strained his ears, listening for footsteps or voices, willing them to come closer. 

A sudden fear struck him. What if they didn't find him? This place was huge and dark, and, unable to move or speak, Emmet had no way to signal them. Frantically, he tried to move, to scream.

His arm twitched. 

It wasn’t a lot, but it was more than he’d been able to do before. 

His resolve strengthened, Emmet redoubled his efforts. He tried harder than he’d ever tried anything before. 

His leg kicked, followed by a flick of a wrist and a twist of his neck. Slowly but surely, he regained some kind of control over his body. He grunted, instantly delighted by the sound of his own voice. 

In his self sustained commotion, he failed to notice the sound of approaching footsteps. 

“THERE HE IS!” The voice that rang out was muffled, likely by a helmet, but Emmet still vaguely felt like he should recognize it. 

A figure ran up to him, kneeling at his side. They reached down, taking his hand. Instinctively, Emmet grasped back, not even noticing how much easier the motion had become. 

“DO NOT WORRY,” the speaker continued. They loomed over him, a set of glowing green eyes peering out of the darkness. “WE ARE HERE TO RESCUE YOU, GROMMET!”

[missing-my-griffin]

The canonical truth at the moment is: Bellamy is a lame, aloof boyfriend but an AMAZING, hopelessly-devoted husband who will do anything to protect his wife, even if it means kissing his space girlfriend and family goodbye.

I got this ask weeks ago I think along with ep 8, where Bellamy left with Clarke.

And I had a lot of thoughts and opinions and kind of just… left it there.

bc I actually wasnt as excited as the rest of fandom about Bellamy leaving his family behind for Clarke. Because I think you shouldn’t ever have to choose; and I saw it as something tragic, not romantic. 

And now episode 11 rolled around and HOT DAMN. Bellamy killed me. Bellamy poor bastard “my people are all that matters to ME, Clarke!!”

Tortured, torn, hurting Bellamy Blake trying to live with what he’s done. Abandoning his family. Being so helplessly in love that he lost it and went off on a suicide mission to get Clarke back.

And then the chip ordeal. Guess what that was?? It was his fucking beard. Bellamy is still scared of his feelings for Clarke, that doesnt just stop. It got a lot better but it’s still there. “I don’t need you anymore, Clarke.” He’s scared of losing control and he can’t control his emotions when it’s about Clarke. Soo.. this irrepressible need to save her was irrational, and it scared him, and he picked her over everyone else, which was another round of no good choices, and he loves his family to the ends of the earth, so he feels horrible. And then he remembered their original plan; the chip. He’ll get it out and use it like he used the mug and voila two birds one stone, right? He didnt pick, he chose both. He needed this plan as an excuse to justify prioritising Clarke. First with his family, then for himself.

He needed it to not admit defeat when Josephine was taunting him. He made the smart move. He is rational. He is the leader. He is the good guy. We only look forward. And now he is none of that. Now, the chip is gone, and he is just so grateful to have Clarke back, and he’s drowning in all the guilt he has for feeling like that in the first place. He lashed out at everyone bc of it, including Clarke. Just like he did with Echo back during the Sanctum party. He is angry. Why is he angry?? Things not working out isn’t new for Bellamy. He’s lived his entire life minus 6 years in space with stakes this high. He isn’t angry about the situation, or at Clarke, or at Gabriel (’we’ll take it from here’) - he’s angry at himself. For not being able to stop loving Clarke, even after all these years. But he also doesn’t deny it anymore and is letting himself go - which is just a lot to handle and for me personally? Would be very confusing and just extremely scary. 

Bellamy is more than an aloof boyfriend, he is a bad, stupid, cheating boyfriend. And yes he’s cheating, emotionally. If my partner was like that with someone else… we’d been over a long time. But he’s also kind of none of that at all bc he feels bad accordingly? It’s killing him.

And we are getting a guilt arc. It’s truly incredible. And it needed to be told for me to really get into the whole “leaving his family for Clarke” plot. We’re getting a horrified Bellamy whose entire naive pretend-plan collapsed in on itself, this house of cards he built, emotionally. Successfully balancing on top of it, in his stubborn head, would have meant being the good guy and doing right by Echo and everyone else. And now he finds himself lying on the floor amongst the rubble, having to face the reality of why he did what he did, and Clarke, stupid Clarke, wants to go in and sacrifice herself again ohhhh my god. BUT HE’S NOT DONE EVEN BEGINNING TO DEAL WITH HIS GUILT OVER DROPPING EVERYTHING TO SAVE HER ASS. Because he can’t live without her, nothing makes sense without her, and he’s not losing her again, and he needs her.

Oh it’s so epic. Kill me. 

[standbyphoenix]

River Phoenix Ranks Acting Below Animal Rights and Music, NY Times, 1989.

When River Phoenix learned he had just won the National Board of Review's award as best supporting actor of 1988 for his performance in ''Running on Empty,'' his first response was to ask what the society was.

A few months past his 18th birthday, Mr. Phoenix is not yet into glittering prizes. If the awards ceremony conflicts with an anti-fur concert at which he has agreed to play his guitar, the popular young actor says he will keep his commitment to the animal-rights group. He does not wear animal skin on his back, at his waist or, most of the time, on his feet. And he has been a vegetarian since he was 8 years old.

During his most recent trip to Hollywood from his home in Florida, he picked at some vegetables mixed with tofu and talked about the immorality of eating meat.

''When I was old enough to realize all meat was killed, I saw it as an irrational way of using our power, to take a weaker thing and mutilate it,'' he said. ''It was like the way bullies would take control of younger kids in the schoolyard.'' 

As Danny Pope, who has spent 15 years hiding behind false identities in ''Running on Empty'' and who must choose between betraying his parents or his future, Mr. Phoenix earned enviable reviews, as well as a nomination today as best supporting actor for the Golden Globes given out by the Hollywood Foreign Press Association. But the film did poorly at the box office last fall, selling less than $3 million worth of tickets. In a quest for an Academy Award nomination for Mr. Phoenix, Warner Brothers re-released the movie at a theater in Los Angeles a few weeks ago and intends to reopen in New York in the middle of this month.

Mr. Phoenix's reviews have been glowing since his first appearance as the sturdy 12-year-old leader of four young boys searching for the body of a dead boy in ''Stand by Me.'' He even got away relatively unscathed when critics mauled ''Little Nikita,'' in which he played the all-American son of Russian spies, and ''The Mosquito Coast,'' in which he played Harrison Ford's son.

The young actor has just finished a cameo role in Steven Spielberg's new movie, ''Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade,'' in which he plays Jones as a teen-age daredevil, ''with lots of mad escapes.'' He said he did not mimic Mr. Ford's Indiana Jones, but ''used him as a reference.''

''When Indiana Jones is in trouble,'' Mr. Phoenix said, ''he'll give a real laugh and dart his eyes to the right or left and freeze a smile, a perpetual smirk.''

The new movie will reveal the origins of Jones's phobia about snakes. ''I had to do a scene where I'm at the bottom of a crate in a circus reptile car and I have to deal with thousands of snakes,'' Mr. Phoenix said. 'Built-In Barometer'

Sidney Lumet, the director of ''Running on Empty,'' has said of Mr. Phoenix: ''The talent is original and the personality is original. River doesn't know how to do anything falsely. Give him a false direction and he'll look up helplessly. Henry Fonda had that built-in barometer of truth.''

Still a little awkward about being interviewed, Mr. Phoenix concentrated on squashing bits of rice into the paper tablecloth. With crayons supplied by the restaurant, he drew a rainbow of lines that eventually turned into ''either a spaceship or Flash Gordon's pistol,'' he said.

Mr. Phoenix already has to struggle against the image that strangers are drawing of him, including a paperback biography that he says ''is so bogus it's amazing.''

''They say I'm 155 pounds with the build of a football player,'' he said. ''I'm 137 pounds. And the image the teen magazines want to manufacture is goody-goody sticky-sweet.''

The actor is the oldest of five children: Rainbow is 16; Leaf, the only other son, who is also an actor, is 14; Liberty is 12, and Summer is 11. He had a childhood almost as strange as that of his character in ''Running on Empty.'' Street Guitarist at 5

In the film, Danny Pope's parents had protested against the war in Vietnam by bombing a napalm laboratory when he was 2 years old. When River was 2, his parents joined the Children of God, a religious cult, and preached in Mexico, Puerto Rico and Venezuela. By the time he was 5, he was playing his guitar in the streets of Caracas.

''That was my only reality,'' Mr. Phoenix recalled. ''I would sing at jails with my sister and stand on street corners passing out literature containing uplifting messages about Jesus. I was nearly 7 when my parents started to leave in the middle of the night.''

In 1977, Arlyn and John Phoenix walked away from the Children of God, although their decision stranded them in a foreign country with four children, no money and no place to live. ''The group was being distorted by a leader who was getting very full of power and wealthy,'' Mrs. Phoenix said. ''We were serving God; we weren't serving our leader. It took several years to get over our pain and loneliness.''

After a few months of living in a rat-infested beach hut, the family slipped out of Venezuela on a freighter taking a shipment of toys to Florida. 'Pure, Naive, Poor'

In Florida, Mr. Phoenix said: ''Rich kids gave us their old clothes, which were the best clothes we had ever had. We were these very pure, naive, poor children. The rich kids called us a lot of names, but it never bothered us because we didn't know what the words meant.''

River and his sister Rainbow won so many local talent contests that they were written about in The St. Petersburg Times. A copy of the article found its way to the casting department at Paramount Pictures, and the family received a letter saying the children could be interviewed if they were ever in Los Angeles.

The family loaded the old station wagon and drove to California, but Paramount wasn't interested. Mrs. Phoenix found herself a job as a temporary employee at NBC. Then River's musical skills won him a role in the television series ''Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.''

He has not been in a regular school since fifth grade. ''Whatever I missed, I exchanged for something else, and it was worth it,'' he said. ''I love thinking and writing and researching stuff, going to the library and looking at microfilm. Environmental concerns are top on my list. If we don't heal the earth, we're gone.'' In Support of Chickens

His attitudes and ethics obviously echo the 60's sensibilities of his parents, but it was the 8-year-old River who persuaded his parents to give up milk and eggs. ''The chickens that lay eggs are so frustrated,'' he said. ''There's no sunlight in egg farms. It's like a concentration camp. Just the squealing of thousands of birds.''

Although the movie industry is usually a quick cure for naivete, Mr. Phoenix has not yet lost an artless trust in the kindness of strangers. Despite the superficial similarities between his childhood and that of Danny Pope, the actor said he used nothing from his own life in ''Running on Empty.''

''It takes away from my character's identity if I cross my past with his,'' Mr. Phoenix said. ''He needs to have his own life. I find it funny that so many actors are so self-centered about everything.''

The family retreated from Southern California to Florida a year ago. ''They moved for the kids,'' Mr. Phoenix said. ''The kind of people you attract in Hollywood don't have their heads in the right place.''

At the end of last month he and a band made up of Rainbow and teen-age friends rented a local theater for $65 and gave a concert of the progressive folk-rock music he composes. The first 65 people donated $1 each. Everyone else got in free. Music has always been his first love. Now, Mr. Phoenix said, acting is starting to catch up.

—  By ALJEAN HARMETZ, Special to the New York Times | Published: January 5, 1989.