#with a little creative licence perhaps

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

fleabag "this is a love story" voice: this is about suicide

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[autistichalsin]

All dialogue options for Halsin's request for a story for the children in the epilogue

There are generic options, unique options for Durges, each Origin, and even for Origin paths (I.E. Justiciar Shadowheart vs Selune path Shadowheart) so I thought I'd collect them all here! There are some nice characterization moments here, and I love Halsin's reactions to some of these. (Also, I had no idea Gale could still ascend to godhood as a mindflayer? Or at least there's dialogue for it here...) I hope you guys enjoys these!

All characters/Tav:

Regale Halsin with tales of your past six months.

Halsin: You have kept yourself busy - I expected no less, in truth. I shall be able to keep the children enthralled for a few more nights yet, thanks to you. And should you wish to retell of your exploits in person? Well, I shall not object to a night off.

All characters/Tav:

The truth may be a little flat. Spice it up a little. (This triggers a skill roll for deception)

If the roll succeeds:

Halsin: You are truly incapable of disappointing. The children shall be rapt - and have no fear; all due credit shall be given to the tale's originator.

If the roll fails:

Halsin: Hmm, do I detect a certain... exaggeration? You could give Master Geddarm a run for his gold - though I suppose he has little need for it now, Oak Father bless him. In any case, my audience will favour a good tale over veracity any day - I thank you for your offering.

Any character who accompanied Karlach to Avernus:

Halsin: I am glad you and Karlach have an enduring friendship - it shall serve as a strong lesson for the children, as well as a stirring tale.

Any player who became a mindflayer:

My exploits have been limited by my new form. I live as a pariah, feared by most.

Halsin: Yet not by me. I shall tell the children of your heroism and sacrifice. They shall know what they owe to you, trust me.

Mindflayer characters who have plans with the Emperor:

I have been dwelling far from the public eye. Yet the Emperor and I have grand plans in motion - that I cannot speak of.

Halsin: Too murky for a children's tale, I fear. Perhaps I should focus on the hero you were, and the sacrifice you made. But thank you for sharing, nonetheless.

Mind flayer characters who are allied with the Emperor:

My new form demands discretion. I have been amassing power in the shadows with my ally, the emperor.

Halsin: I see. Perhaps the children can learn something from your ambition in the face of adversity. Thank you.

Mindflayer characters who killed the Emperor:

My exploits have been limited by my new form. I live as a pariah, feared by most.

Halsin: And with an appetite for the grey ambrosia that dwells within every skull, I presume? Perhaps I shall remind the children of your heroism and self-sacrifice... and skip over the brain-eating until they are older.

Dragonborn Dark Urge:

How about a ghost story? A spectral dragon who will haunt the little ones' dreams, if they don't behave.,

Halsin: Most enthralling - though perhaps it may lead to some sleepless nights for the younger ones. I can make something palatable with a little showmanship and creative licence - thank you.

Any Dark Urge:

Tell Halsin a detective story, where in the end, the intrepid Fist discovers they had been committing the murders all along.

Halsin: A touch bleak perhaps, but considering the amount of orphans in my audience, I am sure they shall manage. I can make something palatable with a little showmanship and creative licence - thank you.

God Gale:

Recall the parable of the Yearning Orphan, your youngest follower and already a great prophet spreading your doctrine...

Halsin: You are truly incapable of disappointing. The children shall be rapt - and have no fear; all due credit shall be given to the tale's originator.

Also God Gale:

Tell him of the tribulations of godhood. The politics, the bureaucracy, the endless prayers to answer...

Halsin: Well luckily for you, mortals have a habit of embellishing their run-ins with gods... I am sure I can muster something to captivate the children from what I can glean of you.

God Gale:

Well, I have developed a taste for togas, for one thing.

Halsin: I am glad you have kept yourself occupied. No doubt I will be able to spin a few yarns from the children from this. Thank you.

Mindflayer God Gale:

Well, I've been doing my best to not frighten my followers. I'd hate to be one of those gods.

Halsin: I am glad you have kept yourself occupied. No doubt I will be able to spin a few yarns from the children from this. Thank you.

Non-god Gale who went back to Waterdeep:

I've been researching the tale of the first Blackstaff, Khelben Arunsun. My abridged notes would make for a fascinating bedtime story.

Halsin: I see... well I trust your sources, of course. Perhaps the historical record can survive an embellishment or two, for the sake of the children. In any case, you have my gratitude.

Non-god Gale who didn't return to Waterdeep:

What haven't I done? Delved into dungeons, read secret tomes, taken out a rogue shadow mage or two. Enough magic and mystery for a treasury of tales.

Halsin: Why, Master Dekarios, I had no idea you would continue to stoke the fires of adventure. I commend you - as shall the children, once they hear of your exploits. Thank you.

Dark Justiciar Shadowheart:

Tell Halsin of how you consolidated your power over Lady Shar's church, purging the disloyal with bloody vigor.

Halsin: My. Perhaps a tale for the older children, once I trim off a few of the... less savoury details. But thank you, all the same.

Also Dark Justiciar Shadowheart:

I have been continuing to serve Lady Shar however I can.

Halsin: You are stalwart, even in service of darkness. There will be a lesson there for me to impart to the children... with a few details glossed over, perhaps. Thank you.

Selune path Shadowheart who killed her parents:

Tell Halsin of how you've roamed far and wide, now that you are free of Shar.

Halsin: The shadows were concealing a true adventurer's heart then. Thank you - the children shall be rapt.

Shadowheart whose parents are alive, whether Selune path or Dark Justiciar:

Regale Halsin with tales of your tranquil life with your family and coterie of animals.

Halsin: Yes, I thought I caught the scent of a wolf upon the wind... the children shall love this, but be warned - they may insist upon a visit.

Selune path Shadowheart:

I have been forging my own path, away from Shar's influence.

Halsin: I shall be honoured to speak of you to the children. To embrace change as you have shall make for a stirring example. Thank you.

Any path Shadowheart:

I've been at something of a loose end - roaming and adventuring as I see fit.

Halsin: Countless tales have begun with a roaming adventurer - I am sure I shall keep the children enthralled for years to come with your exploits. Thank you.

Orpheus path Lae'zel:

I have ridden a red dragon to battle as a Warrior of the Comet. The lich queen Vlaakith will fall by my hand.

Halsin: Oak Father preserve you - I hope you have a tight hold on the beast. But this shall make for a most stirring tale for the children. I may even have to tone down the details, for fear they get too excited...

Lae'zel who stayed in Faerun:

I have travelled the harshest lands of the Sword Coast, piercing the hearts of the lich queen's countless assassins.

Halsin: Ha! I think some of the more bloodthirsty children will relish this, thank you.

Wyll who became a Grand Duke and made an eternal pact with Mizora:

I embraced my hellish side and dedicated my life to rebuilding the grand city of Baldur's Gate.

Halsin: The makings of the multi-night epic. The children shall rush to their bunks in order to hear the next chapter, thank you.

Wyll who became a Grand Duke but didn't continue his pact with Mizora:

I turned from my hellish past and dedicated my life to rebuilding the grand city of Baldur's Gate.

Halsin: A noble calling. Your tale shall inspire a whole generation. Thank you.

Wyll who stayed the Blade of Frontiers and made an eternal pact with Mizora:

The Sword Coast is safe as ever thanks to the Blade and his infernal powers.

Halsin: The classic tale of the Blade, but with a twist? This shall go down very well with the children, I sense. Thank you.

Wyll who stayed the Blade of Frontiers and ended his pact with Mizora:

The Blade of Frontiers is back on the hunt. The Sword Coast is safe as ever.

Halsin: Many of the children have already heard of you, as it were - do you know some of them scarcely even believe this old bear could be acquainted with such a hero? But the authentic sense that your recollections bring to the tale shall win them over, no doubt. Thank you.

Wyll who became the Blade of Avernus and made an eternal pact with Mizora:

No hellbeast is safe from the Blade of Avernus and his infernal powers.

Halsin: Thank you, the children shall be agog. I do believe some of them use the number of beastly fangs and claws present in a tale as the yardstick for its quality - which puts yours right at the top of the heap.

Wyll who became the Blade of Avernus and but ended his pact with Mizora:

The Blade of Avernus is on the hunt. The Hells shudder at the very mention of his name.

Halsin: A classic tale. I expect it shall inspire more than a few of the children to start practising their ripostes with wooden sticks.

Wyll who became the Blade of Avernus, made an eternal pact with Mizora, and went to Avernus with Karlach:

The Blade of Avernus and his companion are on the hunt. No hellbeast is safe from his infernal powers.

Halsin: A formidable duo. I am glad that you and Karlach have each other - it shall serve as a strong lesson for the children, as well as a stirring tale.

Wyll who became the Blade of Avernus, did not make an eternal pact with Mizora, and went to Avernus with Karlach:

The Blade of Avernus and his companion are on the hunt. The Hells shudder at the very mention of his name.

Halsin: I am glad you and Karlach have an enduring friendship - it shall serve as a strong lesson for the children, as well as a stirring tale.

Astarion who didn't ascend, but defeated Cazador:

I've been revelling in my freedom, rediscovering the joys of the night.

Halsin: Sanguine joys, no doubt? Perhaps I shall smoothen out some of those details - the children do not need to know the full truth of your diet. But they shall be rapt all the same, thank you.

Astarion who didn't defeat Cazador:

Halsin, I've been hiding in sewers and eating rats. It's not a glorious tale.

Halsin: Ah, but the glory can be found in the telling. The children love tales of underdogs, facing odds most unlikely. They shall appreciate your story, trust me.

Astarion who didn't defeat Cazador and became a mindflayer:

Halsin, I've been hiding in sewers and eating rats' brains. It's not a glorious tale.

Halsin: Ah, but the glory can be found in the telling. The children love tales of underdogs, facing odds most unlikely. They shall appreciate your story, trust me.

Ascended Astarion:

My tales are a little heavy on murder and sex. But if the children want to hear them...

Halsin: Hmm. Perhaps I can substitute the bloodlust and... eh, general lust for cuddles and animals in the retelling. The children may be confused, but no matter - they will soon be asleep. Even with a few little white lies, rest assured that they shall be engrossed. Thank you.

Ascended Astarion who became a mindflayer:

My tales are a little heavy on murder, sex, and tentacles. But if the children want to hear them...

Halsin: Hmm. Perhaps I can substitute the bloodlust and... eh, general lust for cuddles and animals in the retelling. The children may be confused, but no matter - they will soon be asleep. Even with a few little white lies, rest assured that they shall be engrossed. Thank you.

Karlach who went to Avernus alone:

Tell him of how you lost your horn.

Halsin: Truly? I never would have guessed that is what happened. And to think I believed I had the measure of you... but I am glad to be wrong - the children shall be captivated.

[mi5018leiascott]

Ai the good that comes with the bad

There is a lot of debate regarding how AI has been used to treat artists in entertainment and marketing. Where Sora has improved in such a short time frame as little as a year. From an artist's perspective, it is reasonable for creators to be concerned that companies could replace them. It's also fair to say that it's relativity concerning that films could be entirely scripted by AI and that no one would tell. However, AI has given a few good outcomes as a tool. When Procreate Dreams came out, in my opinion, it did help with timing and rigging, just like Adobe, but otherwise, it is more accessible if there is a beginner or someone who isn't well off. There isn't a doubt that companies wouldn't use such devices. As it saves time and money. The flip side is that it could weed out the companies that don't make an effort. It would also help artists find ethical companies that spend extra time paying their workers. It can also be argued that it causes job shortages within the creative field. It doesn't have to be the way if there are laws input in the system where that shouldn't be possible, and safeguards can be put in place. Such as using nightshades to poison images to prevent stealing works. Another solution could be making licences to use footage of people and by people who have consented to be in these films, just like the rules and regulations of recording audio or filming, just like any other. Deep fakes of pornographic or hateful uses of AI perhaps shouldn't have public access as it was shown to be harmful by some media outlets. But AI shouldn't be entirely discredited as it is a tool to help with references, promoting creativity and learning. It can be used for good, but with regulations in place to make it safe, it can be a great help.

[viperwhispered]

...I have been hit by the urge to ramble and explain my thought process behind these, so...

The books: Emi's always been a bookworm and a lover of fantasy. And when she stumbles into Twisted Wonderland, reading and books is definitely something she escapes into while struggling to adjust.

This also has the unintentional effect of teaching her more about Twisted Wonderland. Even if she mostly reads fiction at first (I choose to believe she has the opportunity to get that into her hands even at NRC), it still tells her about the world she's in. She does also end up reading more anthropological, sociological or historical books, to explain the world she's in - for understanding magic, the lessons she attends is probably mostly enough.

There is also the part of Emi that is quite academically inclined, which also is represented by this pic, even if that part of her doesn't get to shine much at first, what with her lacking a lot of the foundation knowledge everyone else has. (Her sense of self-worth sure takes a hit with that, thank goodness for anything math related for still giving her some sense of competence.)

The heart: I wanted something red & black for her favored colors. Plus she is a pretty soft-hearted and even a romantic person, and quite emotional. Idk, kinda the usual heart symbolism I suppose?

Nonograms: Emi enjoys certain kinds of puzzle games a lot, things like nonograms and sudoku where you get to apply the rules to solve the problem. On the other hand, it's also here for her problem-solving tendencies in general.

Dragon statue: Partially for her love of fantasy, and of course for her interest in dragons themselves. But also for her interest in history and in the ways people live and have lived.

The sauna by the lake: Probably doesn't need much explaining if you've seen the book 7 ficlet I wrote for her. Basically, the scenery where she's the most at peace, something representing home.

The ice creams: Her favorite treat, but also licorice for pretty much a literal taste of home.

Crochet: For Emi's enjoyment of handcrafts, and for those restless fingers that most of the time are fidgeting with something or other.

The party scene: I still haven't quite decided what age Emi is exactly before getting yanked to twst, and if she would've been of age to go clubbing in her own world. Still, it's for her general enjoyment of dancing, for time spent with friends (past and perhaps also future), and past and/or future enjoyment of going out dancing.

And also the potential of less than great coping mechanisms for being thrust into twst, because as we all know alcohol is great for solving problems. But this is also one of those undecided things that might or might not come to pass. She is more likely to cope by withdrawing and escapism (like she does with the books), but still, it's a possibility.

The bracelets: Y'all wouldn't believe how difficult it was to find a free to use / creative commons licence pic of a studded bracelet or belt. I swear. (That, or my google-fu / modern search engines just suck). But at least this works, both for her preferred sense of fashion and for her music tastes.

What didn't make the cut:

a metal concert scene, I figured the studs & the going out pic would have to fill in for those vibes

a cozy mug of tea for Emi's enjoyment of said drink

several other dancing / clubbing pics (the way I hunted for the right kinda vibe, lol)

a separate licorice pic

a generic black and red aesthetic pic

could've also included something gaming-related but alas, I remembered that a little too late. Plus who knows what I would've been willing to replace, if anything

@scint1llat3 @diodellet @bibi-cha @moonyasnow

Emi Lind moodboard

You can find more information on my yuusona Emi here on the masterlist.

Image sources will be in the replies.

Tagging @scint1llat3 @diodellet @moonyasnow @bibi-cha

If anyone else would like to be added to the taglist for Emi / jamemi things, just let me know!

[weavingthetapestry]

Epiphany 1540 - The Linlithgow ‘Interlude’ Is Performed

(John Slezer’s engraving of Linlithgow Palace, c.1693. Reproduced under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution licence, with the permission of the National Libraries of Scotland)

On Epiphany 1540, a play known only as the ‘Interlude’ was performed before King James V of Scotland in Linlithgow. This play, which at the time was perhaps little more than another festive court treat, has since been of great interest to both historians of Scottish theatre and the Protestant Reformation. The king’s alleged reaction to this performance, as reported in a letter from the English Warden of the East March to Thomas Cromwell, has fuelled speculation over his religious views. Meanwhile the description of the play itself, preserved in some ‘notes’ which accompanied the letter, has led many critics to argue that the Linlithgow Interlude was an early version of ‘Ane Satyre of the Thrie Estaitis’, the most famous work of the Scots makar and herald Sir David Lindsay of the Mount.

James and his pregnant queen Mary of Guise spent Yuletide 1539 in the lochside palace of Linlithgow, newly refurbished in the latest Renaissance style. With the Yule celebrations over and the New Year’s gifts dispersed, the festive season usually closed with the feast of Epiphany or ‘Uphalyday’ on 5th/6th January. Uphalyday itself was an important occasion, marked by solemn religious services alongside more boisterous entertainment like guising and the ‘Feast of the Bean’. This year the court tailor was especially busy making costumes of red, yellow, and purple, because a play was to be performed before the king, queen, and entire council ‘spiritual and temporal’.*

An account of the proceedings was sent by Sir William Eure, an English March Warden, to Henry VIII’s ubiquitous chief minister Thomas Cromwell on 26th January 1540. Eure had recently been at Coldstream, meeting commissioners sent by the Scottish king, and had fallen into conversation with one. This was Master Thomas Bellenden, ‘a man (…) of gentle and sage conversation, especially touching the stay of the spirituality in Scotland’. Bellenden was actually the Lord Justice Clerk, and director of the royal chancery. He also had close court connections beyond his official duties- his mother had been the king’s nurse while his younger sister Katherine worked in the royal wardrobe (and her third husband was Oliver Sinclair) and his brother John’s literary works were patronised by the king. However, Thomas Bellenden would also become known as a Protestant sympathiser and even in 1540 he was sufficiently reform-minded for Eure to describe him as ‘a man inclined to the sort used in our Sovereign’s Realm of England’…

(King James V and his second wife Mary of Guise. Source- wikimedia commons)

Taking him for a like-minded fellow, Eure discreetly questioned Bellenden about James V’s attitude towards Protestantism. Bellenden gave the rather ambiguous answer that James and his secular counsellors intended to reform the ‘misdemeanours’ committed by churchmen in Scotland. He then informed Eure about an “Interlude” performed for the king on Uphalyday, ‘the whole matter whereof concluded upon the declaration of the naughtiness in Religion, the presumption of Bishops, the collusion of the spiritual Courts, called the Consistory Court in Scotland, and misusing of priests.’ Even more interesting was the king’s alleged reaction to this reformist drama. Bellenden supposedly told Eure that, when the play finished, James turned to the bishops present and threatened to send six of them to his uncle Henry VIII if they did not reform their lives. Gavin Dunbar, archbishop of Glasgow and the king’s chancellor** answered carefully that the bishops would obey even a single word from the king, to which James angrily replied that he, ‘would gladly bestow any words of his mouth that could amend them.’ Bellenden also claimed that the king intended to remove all churchmen from government posts and that James studied every day, looking for a way to prevent clerics holding Crown offices. Bellenden then asked Eure to assist him by having a description of the acts that had been passed in England ‘touching the suppression of religion’ sent to the king of Scots.

One nineteenth century editor of Eure’s letter considered it ‘unquestionable proof’ that James V was planning a Scottish Reformation in 1540. In fact, things were rather more complicated. A full exploration of James V’s religious policies and personal beliefs would take far too long to go into here, but a couple of brief points may be made. Firstly, whether or not James actively sought to remove all churchmen from government as Bellenden is supposed to have claimed, this was never accomplished during his reign, nor did he ever make good on his alleged threat to send some bishops to England when they didn’t clean up their act. Secondly James V benefited greatly from the desire of both the papacy and the Scottish clergy to ensure that he did not break with Rome. Papal indults allowed him to wield a great deal of influence in church appointments, while the Scottish church contributed thousands of pounds to the Crown. James may have publicly flirted with the idea of a Reformation after the manner of Henry VIII but he was already doing quite well under the current system, and never made any real attempt to alter this during his personal reign. Possibly Eure’s letter should be viewed as an indication of the hopes which reformist councillors like Bellenden might have had of their king. Alternatively, perhaps it merely reflected an image which Scottish reformers or English diplomats, or indeed the king of Scots himself, wished to present to Henry VIII’s government down in Westminster. Thus although Eure’s report is intriguing, any conclusions about James V’s spiritual policy which rest solely on the authority of a secondhand report of an isolated remark made on Uphalyday, must be limited.

However the Linlithgow ‘interlude’ clearly made an impact. Eure was so impressed by its reported effect that he procured a synopsis of the play from a Scot ‘of our sort’ and attached it to his letter. The play opened with the antics of a character named Solace, ‘whose part was but to make merry, sing ballads with his fellows, and drink at the interlude of the play.’ Following this harmless comic section, the play took a more serious turn when another actor entered, dressed as a king. The role of this ‘king’ was largely confined to ratifying the other characters’ decisions, but his presence is intriguing- was he supposed to reflect the real monarch sitting in the audience?

(Bare and roofless, the Great Hall at Linlithgow Palace on a dreich day sadly doesn’t give a great impression of its former opulence. But please try to imagine a sixteenth century court celebrating Yule with a roof over their heads, hangings on the wall, and a fire in the grate).

The king was followed on stage by his flattering courtiers Placebo, Pikthanke, and Flaterye, who fawn over him at great length. Then four more characters enter. The first three are an armed man, a bishop, and a burgess, corresponding loosely to the mediaval concept of the three estates- those who fight, those who pray, and those who work. This also reflects the division of the Scottish parliament, often referred to as the “Three Estates”. But these three characters were also accompanied by a character named Experience, who was dressed like a ‘doctor’ (in the university, not the medical sense- presumably an expert in theology or law). When these characters had assembled on the dais beneath the king, the action was driven by the entry of one last character- a Poor Man, who lamented as he walked up and down between the audience and the noble characters on the raised scaffold. He complained that he was reduced to beggary by the demands of the courtiers, and could not get redress because he did not know the comptroller or the treasurer, who controlled petitioners’ access to the king.*** Asking for the king, he was pointed towards the actor dressed as the king on the dais. The Poor Man was apparently unconvinced by this figure and launched into a rant, stating that, ‘he was no King for there was but one King, which made all and governs all, who is eternal, to whom he and all earthly Kings are but officers, of the which they must make reckoning.’

Although this speech seems very bold for an actor to deliver in front of the real king, its sentiment was by no means without precedent in the court literature of James V’s reign. But the Poor Man did at least rein in his dismissal of all earthly kings. Taking another careful look at the king in the play he concluded that the actor could not be the king of Scots, ‘for there was another King in Scotland that hanged John Armstrong with his fellows, and Sym the laird, and many other more, which had staunched theft’. This (somewhat simplistic) account of James V’s attempts to restore justice allowed the Poor Man to segue into a lament for the one thing which this true king of Scotland had not achieved- the reform of abuses committed by the Church. The Poor Man claimed that these included the harrying of the poor through the Consistory Courts; the theft of men’s wives and daughters; maintaining their illegitimate children whom they married to the sons of the nobility; the levying of high rents on the secular lands which had been granted to the Church; and the sexual immorality of cloistered monks and nuns. Early in his speech the character of the bishop tried to shout him down, but the Man of Arms rose to defend the Poor Man and told him to carry on. The Poor Man’s argument was then ‘proved’ by the character of Experience. Their evidence convinced the Man of Arms and the Burgess, who decided that it should be also approved by parliament. When the Bishop attempted to protest, the other two told him bluntly that, ‘they were two and he but one, wherefore their voice should have most effect.’ The play then ended with the king approving and ratifying all the foregoing arguments.

It is a bit difficult to gain a real sense of the dramatic effect of this play from such an abbreviated description of its plot. However it is immediately obvious why Eure was so interested in the Linlithgow Interlude’s content, since it seems to have espoused a blatantly reformist programme, if not necessarily ‘Protestant’, in the modern sense. But the ‘notes’ describing the play are of interest to historians for another reason, since they also reveal close similarities between the Interlude, and one of the most famous early examples of Scottish drama- David Lindsay’s ‘Ane Satyre of the Thrie Estaitis’.

(The fountain in the courtyard of Linlithgow Palace was constructed in 1538 on the orders of James V)

Sir David Lindsay of the Mount was a prominent figure at James V’s court. He had been close to the king since James’ infancy, beginning as an usher in the royal household. Although he was removed from the king’s household during the ascendancy of the Earl of Angus, he was restored to favour when James began his personal rule. The king later appointed him Snowdon herald and then Lyon King of Arms, a position he held until his death in 1555. Aside from his heraldic duties, he was a poet of great skill and several of his works demonstrate his close, quasi-paternal relationship with the king. Indeed, this may have allowed him to carefully criticise the king, exhorting James to amend both his personal life and the abuses in his kingdom. Lindsay was also claimed as a proto-Protestant by some following the Reformation but it is debatable how far he was sympathetic to what we would now call Protestantism. However his views on the state of the realm are most famously addressed in his play ‘Ane Satyre of the Thrie Estaitis’, probably his best-known work. This chiefly survives in two versions: an abbreviated text in the Bannatyne MS, and a more complete version printed in 1602. It was staged at least twice during Lindsay’s lifetime- once in 1552, on the playfield of Cupar in the author’s home county of Fife, and then in 1554 in Edinburgh, when it was again attended by Mary of Guise, now ruling in Scotland as queen regent for her daughter Mary I. The play has also been performed several times in the modern era, since its revival for the second Edinburgh Fringe in 1948.

The early performances of the ‘Satyre’ took place in a very different context to that of the Linlithgow ‘Interlude’. There was no king in the audience and, despite the queen regent’s best efforts, religious discontent was growing in the 1550s (especially in Fife). Meanwhile the open-air playfields of Cupar and Edinburgh, with their audiences of burgesses, local lairds, craftsmen, farmers, and others further down the social scale, were very different to the intimate and elite surroundings of Linlithgow Palace. But the framework of the Interlude does seem to resemble that of the Satyre very closely. The ‘Satyre’ opens with a short speech by a character named Diligence before a king (‘Rex Humanitas’) enters in the company of his flattering courtiers Wantonness and Placebo. These last two are more overtly malevolent than the courtiers described in Eure’s ‘notes’ and they are hanged at the end of the play, which is not a feature of the Interlude. Although flattering courtiers were a common target in sixteenth century literature, their behaviour in both plays is otherwise very similar. Rex Humanitas and his courtiers are joined by a character named Solace, a drunk who is also capable of singing ballads. His appearance coincides with the first jokes about the sexual immorality of the clergy, and this is a major theme throughout the ‘Satyre’, couched in very similar terms to those of the ‘Interlude’. 

An eighteenth century depiction of Sir David Lindsay of the Mount. Reproduced under the Creative Commons Attribution licence by permission of the British Museum)

As in the ‘Interlude’, much of the action in the ‘Satyre’ is also driven by the complaint of a Poor Man (accompanied by another character named John Commonweal) who bemoans the abuses of the clergy and the nobility. There is no learned doctor named Experience to support the Poor Man’s argument in the Satyre, but there are characters such as Good Counsall and Correction, the latter of whom convinces Rex Humanitas to call a parliament. The second half of the play therefore deals with the meeting of the ‘Thrie Estaitis’ who are explicitly identified as ‘Temporalitie’ (the nobility or the equivalent of the Armed Man in the ‘Interlude’, though less explicitly warlike), ‘Merchant’ (equivalent to the Burgess in the ‘Interlude’) and ‘Spiritualitie’ (the clergy). Temporalitie and Spiritualitie are harangued for their sins, the latter getting the worst of it, and although Spiritualitie attempts to argue, he is eventually forced to accept correction. The play ends with the execution of the king’s evil counsellors.

The similarities between the overall structures of the ‘Satyre’ and the ‘Interlude’ is clear, and there are numerous minor details which both plays share. Little wonder then that the 1540 ‘Interlude’ has also been attributed to Lindsay and viewed as an early version of the ‘Satyre’. However, it must be acknowledged that there is no explicit evidence which confirms Lindsay as the earlier play’s author. Many of the themes shared by the ‘Interlude’ and the ‘Satyre’ are also found in other Scots literature of the period, and there are important elements of the ‘Satyre’ which are never mentioned in the ‘notes’ about the ‘Interlude’. For example, there are no female characters mentioned in the description of the ‘Interlude’, whereas in the ‘Satyre’ characters such as ���Chastity’ and ‘Lady Sensualitie’ play important roles. It must be remembered though that Eure’s contact may not have recorded every detail of the Linlithgow ‘Interlude’, especially if they weren’t relevant to his religious and political aims.**** And overall, despite some academics rightly urging caution, there does appear to be a general consensus that the ‘Interlude’ and the ‘Satyre’ were in some way connected. The survival of an account of the Linlithgow ‘Interlude’ is thus of great significance for the study of Scots literature and sixteenth century court culture.

The Yuletide festivities drew to a close and by early February the court had moved to Edinburgh in advance of the queen’s coronation. The long-term impact of the little interlude at Linlithgow on James V and his council cannot be ascertained, if indeed it had any real impact at all, beyond its entertainment value. Nonetheless, the frustrations and ideals which informed the play would fester for the next twenty years or more and, eventually, a reformation would indeed be effected in Scotland, though it was destined to take a very different form to anything James V, Henry VIII, or even David Lindsay might have imagined. And in any case, even if areas such as James V’s religious policy and the play’s authorship must remain something of a mystery, the survival of a description of the performance at Linlithgow offers a rare insight into court entertainments in sixteenth century Scotland.

Notes:

*’The whole council spiritual and temporal’ is a bit of a vague phrase but presumably included at least to the king’s closest, privy councillors, who might be loosely associated with the small group who witnessed most royal charters at this time. Two of these men- the chancellor Gavin Dunbar and the justice clerk Thomas Bellenden- we already know were in attendance. It is perhaps not too much of a stretch to guess that some of the others were in the audience- men like the bishop of Whithorn, the earl of Moray (the king’s older half-brother), the earl of Argyll, the chamberlain Lord Fleming, the secretary Thomas Erskine of Brechin and the clerk register James Foulis of Colinton. Perhaps some of the queen’s ladies were also in attendance, or even some of his illegitimate children who were likely at Linlithgow at the time, but this must remain speculative.

** Gavin Dunbar had also been one of the king’s tutors and, known for his ‘cursing’, he was not usually at a loss for words.

*** Interestingly the treasurer of the day was James Kirkcaldy of Grange, who might have been in the audience. Kirkcaldy obtained a reputation in later literature for his defence of persecuted Protestants.

**** And in the case of ‘Lady Sensualitie’ in particular, I do have to wonder how popular an account of how consorting with concubines allegedly impeded the cause of reform would have been with an English ambassador during the reign of Henry VIII.

Selected Bibliography:

- Printed copy of Sir William Eure’s original letter can be found in Sir Henry Ellis’ “Original Letters Illustrative of English History”, series 3 vol. 3 and is also calendared in the Letters and Papers of Henry VIII here.

- “Accounts of the Lord High Treasurer”, vol. 7, ed. Sir James Balfour Paul

- “Ane Plesand Satyre of the Thrie Estaitis”, by Sir David Lindsay of the Mount- I used both this printed copy of the 1602 version and the modern ‘standard’ edition by Roderick Lyall, and of course the notes associated with this (link to publisher’s website here)

- “The Linlithgow Interlude of 1540 and Lyndsay’s Satire of the Thrie Estaitis”, by Greg Walker in Medieval English Theatre vol. 37 “The Best Pairt of Our Play: Essays Presented to John J. McGavin”

- “Versions of Lindsay’s Satire of the Three Estates”, by Raymond A. Houk in PMLA vol. 55, No. 2 (June 1940).

And others.

[theindiegamereview]

Meet the creative team: “Spellstone”

Are you a collectible card game (CCG) fan? If so, read on, because this week we spoke to the makers of Spellstone, a free-to-play (F2P) casual story-based fantasy card game that features vibrant, colourful, hand-drawn art on hundreds of beautiful cards that you can acquire and use in battle, both against the computer and other players!

TIGR: PABLO and DUSTIN are artists who have worked on Spellstone's art, helping create some of the iconic characters Spellstone fans know and love. We asked them how they came to work on the game, as well as what intrigued them about this project.

DUSTIN: I was working as a contract artist when I was asked to create some sample cards for a potential CCG, which is something I'd always wanted to do. The samples I submitted eventually led to me getting a contract to create the initial art for Spellstone. After about four months, I was offered a full-time position. I had such a great experience working with the team that I jumped at the opportunity!

PABLO: Prior to starting work on Spellstone, I remember doing an art piece to test my skills. I greatly enjoyed that because I particularly liked this game's art style - which is actually similar to my own! There were still slight differences though, so I've had to adapt a little. Blending my own personal style into an existing one was challenging. But something that intrigued me about Spellstone was the variety of factions in the game. Each and every one opens up a big array of possibilities when it comes to creating a character. I felt my options were unlimited and I loved it!

TIGR: Spellstone features many different cards and characters. We wanted to know who conceptualises all this, and how much creative licence artists get when crafting a character. FERNANDO, currently the main artist for the game, gave us more insight.

FERNANDO:  That Spellstone has such an immense variety of characters means it's a complete and delightful dish for artists. It's hugely gratifying to find such visual diversity with which to play with. You're completely free to create, as long as you respect the game's universe and visual language.

As for the process, the concept of what a card must look like and how it must be functional in terms of gameplay comes from the guys in the game design department. Very creative people... sorcerers maybe? I don't know. Haha!

From a brief but concise description they give me, I can get a sense of what kind of character and action they want to see in a card. Once I have all the information I need to start sketching, my favourite hour finally begins: creative hour!

If the card description involves an existing type of character, like a goblin, part of the fun has to do with the way you depict that character, situation, action and specific emotion. There's also some freedom to create from scratch if needed - that's exciting and challenging! Sometimes the ideas come from a mix of characters, and that's when the laboratory inside my mind starts working: I press a button and something cool, spooky or funny comes out - whatever the game requires. Other times, new concepts require that I look for approximate references of what's needed, so that serves as the starting point. No matter what, it's always a very enjoyable process. Sometimes we have to make corrections, that's true. But as with everything in life, this is necessary for things to work properly. You may have to redraw stuff, but finally the card is done - it works, it delivers and it entertains!

  TIGR: In Spellstone, cards can be upgraded from a single to a dual to a quad, and we really like that this sometimes tells a "mini story" of of sorts through the artwork. Some are funny (we just love Honeycomb Lobber!), some cute (Bomb Spirit is soooo adorable when he’s angry!), some uplifting (Aurora Shaver ranks among our favourites), and some, um, a bit disturbing, to be honest (Cleaverstorm Hunter, anyone?!)! And some are just sad - we can't help but feel sorry for the poor li'l forest furries that presumably got devoured by Alphamech Stalker! We asked the team how they came up with ideas for all these tiny narratives, and MELINDA, one of the game designers, told us more.

MELINDA: When I was younger, there were a few creatures in video games that terrified me. One of those I remembered most was Medusa, an air jellyfish from Ecco: The Tides of Time. While traversing through a water pathway in the sky, Medusa would try to pick up Ecco the dolphin and fling him off the path. Tetraspout's concept came from that, and you can even see poor little dolphins getting swept up in its attack!

  TIGR: We asked the team if there were any cards they particularly liked creating, or found challenging to conceptualise. IVÁN, a colorist who worked briefly on the game, chipped in, as did TONY and RHADA, two of Spellstone's game designers.

DUSTIN: I loved working on the goblin cards! You could get silly with them. Frogs were a lot of fun too - the variety of colours made them interesting. For me, the water cards were challenging but I grew to love working on them.

PABLO: My favourite characters are Goblins! You can play around with them, making them look funny even when the card is telling a dark story, like a massacre. All of the cards were challenging to create!

IVÁN: I enjoyed working on Hedron The Critical Threat, Zyd The Unhinged, and some awesome Insect cards that have yet to be released (as of the time of this interview). I mostly liked them because of their cool concepts and Fernando's awesome sketches. Hedron in particular was a technical painting challenge, as it has textures, transparencies and glow!

TONY: As something of an artist myself (/sarcasm), the card I am most proud of has to be Dinged Waptor. Or really any of the cards I did for the April Fool's event, which is about the only time the art team lets me anywhere near card art. :) For April Fool's, I decided it would be funny to try my hand at drawing some cards I felt players would enjoy. So the first year I drew some original characters that consisted of a few stick figures, a chicken, and a bomb. The response was good, so the following year I continued the tradition, eventually going through and tracing some famous cards like Winged Raptor. My one rule while making these cards was that I could not erase what I did!

RHADA: We used to sell boxes that contained two new premium cards instead of one. We thought of making both cards in the box thematically linked. At the same time, while brainstorming concepts for dragons, I thought we could try to make cards that formed a bigger picture on the battlefield when placed consecutively, side by side. The initial idea was a serpent whose artwork overflowed into a second card, and after some iteration, we stumbled upon the idea of a dragon dance. The result was very cool!

TIGR: With the Spellstone story campaign recently concluded, we asked what was next in store for Spellstone fans. Would there be anymore new characters and amazing art to look forward to?

TONY: Absolutely! While the main story has come to a close, we still look forward to adding new characters, cards, and art to the game that lets our artists have fun and shows off the world of Spellstone.

TIGR: And finally, the most important question of all: would real-life Spellstone merchandise ever be made available for fans of the game? We really want a plushie of the adorable Bomb Spirit (complete with detachable bombs, perhaps?), as well as his angry counterpart, Firebomb Spirit! Also for Quetee Que and Adorabilis, please! And would there ever be any actual physical Spellstone cards produced for collectors?

TONY: I would personally love to see real-life merchandise, but we currently do not have the means to take on such an endeavour. Maybe one day we can strike a partnership with a team that can make this happen!

We thank the Spellstone team for their time and all the wonderful art assets that accompany this interview! Check out the game here on Kongregate, on Steam, or on mobile - three different ways you can enjoy this fun, cheeky and adorable CCG!

P.S. We just had to include our favourite card: Darkwater Adonis - don’t be fooled by his charms!

[heresince93]

Gillian Anderson Sunday Times Interview Transcript

There is a moment in the second series of Netflix’s Sex Education when Gillian Anderson’s character, Jean, sighs a deep resigned sigh as she is lying in bed one morning and spots the messy pile of small change her latest lover, Jakob, has left on her bedside table.

It’s my favourite moment of this uplifting show about the tangled love lives of British secondary school teens that manages to appeal to both parents and adolescents alike. Anderson plays the outrageously inappropriate sex therapist Jean Milburn, a stylish, confident single mother.

The sight of those coins will resonate with any woman of Anderson’s age and stage of life (she is 51), whatever kind of relationship they are in.These pennies, a symbol of how untidy life gets and the constant imposing presence of someone else even when they aren’t in the room, represent for Jean the gradual realisation that the excitement of a new love soon becomes tempered by the boring bits.

For those of us who have been married a while, the coins are perhaps the equivalent of the dull domesticity of picking up the shirt always dropped on the floor or the wet towels you always end up refolding after your teens have left them near but not on the bathroom radiator. Anderson and I chat about this a lot when we meet to talk about the second series of Sex Education, given that we are both working mothers in our early fifties.

The actress, who is most recognised for her role as Scully in The X-Files, is twice divorced and has three children, Piper, 25, Oscar, 13, Felix, 11, all of whom live with her in London. Her partner of three years is the playwright, screenwriter and creator of The Crown, Peter Morgan, himself a father of five.

In person Anderson is chatty and witty, aloof and friendly at the same time, a peculiarly feline trait that I often encounter in driven, confident women who have reached midlife. Tell me about Jakob and the coins, I say, what is it like starting a new relationship in your forties, compared with your twenties?

“It’s very different,” she says. “I think you are more fully formed, especially if you have taken time out of previous relationships to find yourself.

“Early on after the break-up of my last relationship and before my current one, somebody encouraged me to write a list of needs and wants in a future partner. Needs are non-negotiable. If you go on a date with someone and realise they won’t meet, say, three of those needs, then they are not the person for you. It may last as a relationship, but it won’t make you happy. Wants are easier, not more frivolous per se, but easier to deliver. Doing this made it clear to me going forward who would be good for me in a relationship.

“And there is a new creativity nowadays to what a relationship should look like, too. For instance, my partner and I don’t live together. If we did, that would be the end of us. It works so well as it is, it feels so special when we do come together. And when I am with my kids, I can be completely there for them. It’s exciting. We choose when to be together. There is nothing locking us in, nothing that brings up that fear of ‘Oh gosh, I can’t leave because what will happen to the house, how will we separate?’. I start to miss the person I want to be with, which is a lovely feeling. And it is so huge for me to be able to see a pair of trousers left lying on the floor at my partner’s house and to step over them and not feel it is my job to do something about it!”

I’ve never interviewed a celebrity who, even though she is wearing heels (little pointy white boots) is still shorter than me (I’m barely 5ft 2in), but Anderson is tiny. This is only important to note, I think, because her roles since Dana Scully have been so big and so powerful: Blanche in A Street Car Named Desire and Margo Channing in All About Eve on stage; Lady Mountbatten in the film Viceroy’s House; Stella Gibson in The Fall; and now Jean Milburn.

I wonder if she is perhaps filed under “tricky, unpredictable, charismatic, spiky, intelligent and fearless woman” in the casting director’s directory of suitable roles. After all, her next part is going to be Margaret Thatcher (in The Crown). And when she arrives for our chat in the closed Chinese restaurant of a central London hotel, she apologises for the sticky mess in her hair caused by wearing the Iron Lady’s wig the previous day. Her nails are manicured pale pink like Thatcher’s too.

“She had a condition that meant two fingers of each hand would curl around — Reagan had it too — so it affected her gestures and she would wear lots of rings and bracelets to distract. But she kept her nails long, which is how I have to keep them now,” Anderson says. She is fascinated by Thatcher, concluding, after studying her childhood, that “nobody ever existed like her. She was unique.”

Anderson might be unique herself, and despite giving many interviews (three last year), I see that she has been smart and managed to remain a bit of an enigma. When I listen back to the tape, she is very good at general talk, but not so hot on specifics.

She spent her early years in north London with her American parents before going back to Michigan for high school. She was a teenage punk plagued by panic attacks that have continued to trouble her over the years, particularly during her intense work schedule on The X-Files. She went into therapy at 14, then became world famous at 25, and had her first child at 26 (the same age her parents had her, before going on to have her two siblings 12 years later). She split up with her first husband three years after that.

In 2011 she endured the death of her brother, Aaron, aged 30, from a brain tumour, which she rarely discusses. She is an impressive activist, campaigning for a variety of issues including women’s rights in Afghanistan, Burma, South Africa, Uganda and South America. There are 10 charities she has worked with listed on her website, and in 2017 she co-wrote We: A Manifesto for Women Everywhere, a well-received book of advice for women. She has also designed two small fashion collections for Winser London, which include some gorgeous silky blouses. I found I had three in my wardrobe without knowing they were hers.

She is a Bafta nominee and Golden Globe winner, and Neil Gaiman, who cast her in the TV series of his book American Gods, said: “She is in this strange place where everything exists in the shadow of Scully, yet she is bigger and better than that.”

When I listen to her 2003 Desert Island Discs, though, she tells a darker story. In between Radiohead and Jeff Buckley, she talks of troubled mental health that she has worked ferociously hard to improve. She has been in therapy for more than 30 years.

Anderson tells me she has been teetotal since her early twenties and despite some mild probing on my part is reluctant to elaborate on exactly why. I understand. She has soon-to-be teenage children who don’t need to know about any of the “dangerous things” she has done, as she described them to Sue Lawley.

I’m fascinated by Anderson and can see why she was the perfect person to cast as the quirky, funny therapist Jean in Sex Education, which really hits its stride in the second series. While still a comedy at heart, the subject matter tackled by its fantastic young cast is revelatory. Sex Education is one of the first productions to hire an intimacy director to make the young actors feel comfortable and process what they were doing, often naked in front of multiple cameras, to be happy and authentic about what they did and feel they had input.

Anal sex, drugs, masturbation, STDs and nudity feature graphically in this show, which I would advise all parents and teens to watch, though not at the same time — only Jean would do that. When I interview Anderson I have yet to see the finale, but Jean’s journey is that of many women in the middle of their lives after divorce with teenage children.

“There’s a grief, isn’t there?” Anderson says as we discuss the menopause. “I haven’t quite got to the place where I don’t have my eggs, but your body is going to mourn that, isn’t it? I remember the very last time I breastfed and it was heartbreaking. I wept and wept through it.

“And I know people who describe particularly difficult periods at home without realising they are describing their mothers going through the menopause.

“We’re all at the point where we’re kicking off just as our teenage children are kicking off. I was looking at some home videos of Piper when she was three and wondering where all my patience came from in my twenties. I have forgotten that version of me.”

She says she doesn’t feel quite ready for her two boys to become teenagers, but sometimes Jean slips into their conversations at home.

“I find myself saying something embarrassing at the dinner table and I don’t know if it is me or if Jean has given me the licence to say that. Maybe I have always been that way, though. Some of what she shares is too much information. I wouldn’t share it, even with my eldest in her twenties. But my son came home after having a sex education class and I completely clammed up. I couldn’t bring myself to continue the conversation. I just let it die. I really don’t know why.”

Over the years Anderson has tried to schedule her roles to fit in with her children, but like many of us who have devoted much of our time to careers, she still lives with nagging doubts about doing the right thing.

How did you deal with a small child while filming back-to-back episodes of The X-Files for 16 hours a day, I ask, especially when you decided to go it alone as a mum. “I missed her, really so much. Those moments when you see a small child in the street when you are apart from yours and the conversation just drops, it’s hard. She was on a plane a lot when she was six and we moved production to the West Coast. I justified that, I mean it was selfish on my part. I just could not imagine being away from her for long periods of time.

“I became obsessed with schedules, and I still am because of that time. I would plan and colour-code everything, make a series of propositions about schedules so I could see her, and the show would either reject or accept them.

“With the boys the longest I have been away from them was during the two X-Files movies, but again I would be travelling constantly to see them.”

I ask her if she regrets working so hard. “Not yet,” she says. “I have a feeling that will come. I definitely feel like on a level I do regret Piper flying back [to her dad, when she was six] as an unaccompanied minor.” We sit in silence for a bit, mulling over the thought.

“But there’s another version of my life where I could have worked less, had a smaller life and been more present as a parent. I could have chosen that, that could happen. But sometimes it feels like why would you, if you keep getting work as an actor, doing things you dreamt of doing and being offered incredible roles at this age, while paying the bills, and you still get to see them a huge percentage of the time and they witness a mother enjoying her work?”

She has talked to her daughter about it, but says Piper is not yet at the place where the lightbulb goes on and she realises Mum was still up at 6am the days she faced 16 hours of work to be with her, or those days we all have when we are still on the edge of the sports pitch, despite the demands of a job.

But Anderson is an all-or-nothing personality. She tells me she is either on a healthy eating plan, meditating and working out or hiding like a hermit at home eating chocolate. She has been plagued by frozen shoulders all her life, leading to months of pain-filled insomnia and cortisone injections.

“My default position is sedentary,” she tells me when I ask about her meditating and yoga right now. “I like being in bed in my PJs. When I’m working, like right now, I seem to exist mostly on chocolate. Then I go through a stage when I feel dreadful and I review it all and start a food plan, torture myself counting shots of milk and all that.

“In the cycle of all or nothing, I am in the nothing phase right now. It has gone on for quite some time, but I think I am better to be around. I was having lunch with my daughter and we were just, you know, eating, not asking for stuff without oils or sugar, and she said, ‘It’s so much better when you are not in that place.’ ”

I’ve enjoyed my hour with Anderson; she is likeable and thoughtful. I sort of hope we’ll meet again one day. It’s unlikely she’ll read the interview; she has said before that she rarely does. So what do I think as I walk away from her? I’m impressed by her curious nature and, obviously, her sense of style, a blueprint for us all at this stage of life, but mostly I’m inspired by her strong sense of self. It has obviously taken quite a bit of work for her to get there, but from what I can see, it has been worth it.

@GillianA

Sex Education series 2 is available on Netflix from Friday

Hair: James Rowe at Bryant Artists. Make-up: Mary Greenwell at Premier Hair and Make-up. Nails: Saffron Goddard at Saint Luke using Sisley Hand Care

[littlebitoffanfic]

Lessons

Fandom: Wrong Turn 4 Relationship: Sawtooth, One Eye, Three Finger Request: I haven’t done this before but I was wondering if you could right a one shot for the hilliker brothers from wrong turn. I would like it to take place during wrong turn 4 but if that’s not something you can/want to do then you can choose. I’m not picky. I really love your blog btw and you’re such a talented writer and I just can’t wait for what you have planned next. I wish you the best of luck!

A/n: I wasn’t sure if you meant it to take place during the actual movie. Then I started thinking about having the reader around during the plot and my mind ran away with the idea. I took some creative liberties with the plot. Hope you don’t mind 😊 also, if this isn’t what you were after, just let me know. Im always happy to revisit these guys haha.

  You were fuming. Absolutely livid as you paced back and forth by the doors, your arms crossed across your chest as you waited for them to get back. It was bad enough they had left while you were mid argument but then to be this late back? It was dark out, and they knew you hated the dark in the hospital. Part of you wondered if they were doing it to teach you something. That you couldn’t be there without them. You shook off the thought as best you could. But it still lingered. None of you would make it in the outside world, and you could easily survive without them. You could hunt and defend yourself, plus you didn’t have the… physical differences which would make it easier for you to blend into normality. Not that you ever wanted to. And you were sure they would survive if you walked away. But you all stayed together because you loved them dearly, and they loved you. They never said so, they couldn’t speak properly, but they showed it. And on the rare occasions you fought with the brothers, they were the first to apologies.  Today, Sawtooth, One Eye and Three Finger had been unhappy with you because you had went out after someone on your own. You hadn’t been hurt, but you knew that if he had been the slightest bit brighter or stronger, he could have given you a run for your money. But instead of congratulating you for a good kill, Sawtooth got protective, as did the brothers. 

“I can protect myself. I don’t need you hovering over me all the time!” You ended up shouting at them, out of pure annoyance. Sawtooth raised an eyebrow before straightening up and walking out, his brothers in tow. They glanced back at you, but they agreed with Sawtooth and that meant they would follow him. They had all left in the truck 7 hours ago, driving off into the snow. You knew they had been planning on setting up wire around the grounds so if someone was running, they would get caught, so it wasn’t like they had just stormed off. There had been a job to do. But then the hours rolled on and the sun began to set and you felt the fear set in. the building was old, and creaked under the awful weather that only seemed to get worse. To make everything just that little more worse, the powerlines were down and while you could start the generator yourself, you hated going down into the basement to do it. One Eye always did it. Just as you were about to go up and try go to sleep, you heard the sound of engines. Not car ones, but more like motorbikes. Frowning, you looked out one of the top windows and your heart dropped. 4 snowmobiles pulled up outside the hospital. Each had 2 people riding on them. Shit shit shit. One, two or maybe three people you could deal with, but this many? No, you couldn’t cope. You felt panic begin to set in as you tried to think of what to do. The brothers were gone and you had no idea when they’d get back. They had taken their truck and, if they were stuck out in the snow, they were more than happy to bunker down wherever. The best thing you could think to do was keep a close eye on the new comers. Find out whos connected to who, whos weakest, easier to scare, smartest etc. It was all you could. You quietly ran through the hospital, a skill you learned from your many chases with Three Finger. The sounds echoed off the long, deserted halls as you tried to pinpoint where they were, not wanting to run right into them. As the echoes died down, it told you they had entered a room with furnishings. Your knowledge of the building told you it was the lounge area, which the large fire place, some old couches and wheelchairs. You would sit in the large windows in the summer, the warm sun providing a lovely warmth while you read. But in the winter, the room got an awful draft so you and the boys basically abandoned it. You abandoned most the rooms during winter. The main ones that kept being used were the kitchen, the ‘bedroom’ in the attic and a couple of the rooms on the upper floor. Heat rises, after all. As you approached the room, you knew you were right. Slipping into a little janitors closet that had a chip lock so you could lock it from the inside, you knew there was a vent that lead directly between the two. No, you wouldn’t risk crawling inside, but it did allow you to listen. The closet itself was bigger than a standard closet, and mainly empty apart from a bucket, 3 tiered unit that came up to your hips and unit with shelves built into it which was about 5 foot tall and right next to the vent. So you jumped up on the first unit then sat on the second, now able to touch the roof if you reached up just above your head. You heard a girl asking for someone to find stuff to burn. There were footsteps leaving the room before they started talking about someone called Porter. You wondered if the guy you had killed earlier was called Porter, but then you remembered he had had ID that named him David Smith. there was some more talk about phone service, then the others came back and, from the sounds of it, they light a fire. You almost bash your head back on the wall out of boredom. For people who talk so much, they talk about the most dull shit in the world. then they spoke about looking around. Despite wanting to stay in your den, you followed the bigger group as they explored, keeping as close as you could. They went through the files, and you felt a rage build in your chest as they mocked the people who used to be trapped up in here. Just like the guards had. The guards didn’t have so much to say when there wasn’t bars separating them from the people they taunted. You happened to glance out the window when you saw three figures approaching the building. Sawtooth, One Eye and Three Finger. They were focused on what ever they were dragging back, so hadn’t seen the snowmobiles out front. You wondered where the truck was, but then realized it must have gotten stuck somewhere due to the storm. You paused for a moment, frowning. They had trekked back through the storm on foot? They could have bunkered down in the truck for the night, so why fight against the storm? You were happy they were home, but you still felt a rush of anger at the situation. You needed to see them, so you quickly and silently made your way to them. Your pondering meant they had already been through the halls and to the kitchen. When you ran in the room, you noticed how One Eye flinched when he walked in and saw you storming towards them. Three Finger refused to meet your eyes as they filed into the room. But Sawtooth wasn’t with them. “Where have you been?!” You hiss, your voice breaking. Three Finger held up some barbed wire then tossed it to the side when he saw you were still just as angry. Just then, a large figure entered the room, dragging something behind. Something about Sawtooths presence made you feel uneasy. Mainly because you two were still angry at each other. But before anything could be said, he threw the body on the floor between you and the brothers. If this were any other time, you’d have smiled, making a joke about it being a sacrifice to please you. But something niggled at the back of your head. approaching the body, you fell to your knees beside it and started rummaging through the pockets. Until you found a wallet. Opening it up, you found a driving licence. With the name Porter. “Well, that’s one less loose end.” You threw the wallet down. You huffed, about to cuss when suddenly, all the lights flickered on and the sound of loud laugher and cheering echoed through the corridors. Immediately, you saw the three of them go ridged. You rose to your feet, not looking the brothers in the eyes. Turning on your heel, you left the room but they followed. Dragging behind you, you all went towards the noise, slipping into an observatory room with two way glass, you crossed your arms and glared at the group as the brothers looked through the glass. You were now not only angry at the brothers, but at the people as well. They had been the doctors office, had seen some of the files there, they KNEW of the suffering people had endured in these halls and they were dancing around like fucking morons. You saw Three Finger flinch, backing away from the glass a little as they realized why you were so on edge. Why you were now so angry. One Eye looked at you, the guilt obvious in his eyes as he reached out, prepared to comfort you. But you backed away from him, refusing to look at them as you shook your head. Fresh tears pooled in your eyes. They hadn’t been here when you really needed them because they were mad at you. And although they didn’t know of the people coming, you couldn’t just ignore the ache in your chest. You walked through the brothers, who parted to let you through until Sawtooth grabbed your arm. You jumped, not expecting it as you looked up at him. In all honestly, you didn’t know what he wanted. Perhaps it was instinct and he didn’t want you to leave upset. Or perhaps it was because he didn’t want you wondering off when there was a new threat within the building. But you wanted to prove a point, so you yanked your arm back but just as you were about to leave the room, the group of people started using the old wheelchairs as toys and rolled around like morons before making their way to the auditorium. you creeped behind them, with the boys behind you.   you were about to creep to the door when One Eye caught your hand. As with his brother, you were about to yank away when he nodded to the stairs which lead to the upper floor. As if to show you, he pulled you up the stairs and towards the balcony where the group now sat speaking below. One Eye waited by your side, eager for praise from you, but you were too distracted as they managed to play something that made your insides twist painfully. It was the recording of One Eye during an electrotherapy session. You watched as he wrestled against the restrains then his whole body writhed in pain. ‘session’ actually meant ‘punishment’. And One Eye normally ended up in these ‘sessions’ because of you. If he thought the guards were too rough or cruel to you, he would act out. He had attacked god knows how many people because of how they treated you. And he would be punished every time. You remembered crying against the bars as they threw his limp body into the cell with his brothers. Turning, you saw One Eye had noticed the film playing. He had shrank into himself, his gaze on the floor and you noticed his hands were shaking slightly. Stepping closer, you ducked your head under his own and pressed your lips against his in a few chase kisses before nuzzling your cheek against his own as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He responded to your affections, his arms snaking around your waist as he buried his face in your neck. He held you so tight that it hurt, but you didn’t care. You saw something move out the corner of your eyes, your head snapping to see Three Finger and Sawtooth. Three Finger snarled when he noticed the film, obviously defensive of his brother. Sawtooth’s fists clenched by his sides, his face stoic. One Eye pulled back when he noticed his brothers, but didn’t dare let go of you. “We’re in this together, right?” You looked to Sawtooth, who nodded in agreement. “Okay, then this is just like any other prey.” All three nodded in agreement.

 The group of intruders had settle down in the old rooms used for those who could be kept in normal rooms, rather than cells. The brothers were now hard at work, making sure everything was in place for tomorrow. Which included setting up the normal kind of traps. You were about to go back up into your bedroom when you noticed one of the men had went wondering. Right to where Sawtooth had set up the body of Porter. Running, you grabbed Sawtooth by the sleeve and pulled him towards the nurses station.  Apparently, you didn’t need to say a word as he understood. The man started to try square up to the body, threatening him until he seemed to recognise the clothes. You and Sawtooth waited in the shadows until the man touched the body and saw the blood. He turned, but Sawtooth was quick and blocked his path. Using a long metal spike, he jammed it up, through the mans nose and out the other side of the head, killing him. You went to help with the body but Sawtooth pushed you back with a grunt. He gestured towards the kitchen, where the other brothers were preparing some weapons. You tried to follow him again but he dropped the body and stood at his full height, a deep growl leaving his chest. You knew better than to push him further, so you backed off.  He dragged the body towards a half open door, using his foot to kick it further open and you watched before disappearing to find the others.   There was a silence between you both, still some kind of argument going on. You found the others in the back office of the kitchen. The chiefs office, which had a couch that you on, pondering everything that’s happened.

---------------time skip --------------

You don’t know when you passed out, sitting on the floor while One Eye and Three Finger worked on some weapons. When you woke the next morning, Three Finger had moved to sit in front of you and you had a blanket over you. He didn’t appear to be doing anything. Just guarding you as you slept. Reaching out, you ran your finger across his shoulder to let him know you were awake. He turned with a smile, instantly kneeling up beside you and nuzzling into your neck. You couldn’t help but giggle at the affection. One Eye came into the room, chucking something on top of a pre-existing pile crap that you recognised as some of the things the group had left in the lounge. You noticed some cables, spark plug wires from the snowmobiles. He beamed when he noticed you were awake. The morning did feel a lot better, and you were actually excited for the thrill of the chase now.   “Wheres Sawtooth?” You asked, sitting up as Three Finger leaned back. He gestured vaguely towards the door, but you understood. Keeping an eye on the others. As if summoned by your words, Sawtooth walked past the room with a body flung over his shoulders. Three Finger got to his feet and left after him, gurgling to himself. One Eye came and sat by your feet as, fiddling with his fingers in an awkward and shy way. You smiled and crawled to his side, cuddling into him. A sigh of relief left his throat as he pulled you close, apparently afraid you might wake up still annoyed. Three Finger ran back into the room, followed by Sawtooth, now holding a small bundle. A soft grunt told you all that it was time. They were exploring and about to find some unsavoury things. Just as you were about to stay, a grunt drew your attention and the thing Sawtooth was holding was tossed at you. It was wrapped in Porters jacket and you could feel it was the head of someone. Porter or the man who found him, you didn’t know yet. But you felt a swell of pride. Whatever Sawtooth had planned, you were apparently getting a role to play. Disappearing out, you all follow quickly and you started to hear running. The group was split up and agitated. Sawtooth lead you to the auditorium, signalling for his brothers to go up stairs and you to hide behind the black curtains that hid the sides of the stage while the screen was down before he followed his brothers. You managed to hide just in time as they started to funnel in. From what you could gather, they knew one guy was missing, they had seen the blood, they knew you were around somewhere and they needed to get out. Just then, one girl ran in screaming “Theyre gonna kill us all.” The drama queen inside you told you now was the perfect time. You threw the jacket covered object out onto the floor in front of them. “That looks like Porters jacket.” One said. “That is Porters jacket.” The other replied. You peaked around the corner, seeing the black haired girl was approaching it with fear. As she unwrapped the package, you noticed the metal, barbed wire noose that was lowering down from the balcony, a blonde haired girl backing closer to it. Looking up, you saw the brothers had made a pully system. Screams of terror filled the room and during the hysteria, the brothers managed to loop the metal around the girls neck and haul her up. The guy she was with tried to stop her, to help her, but he only made it worse. He grabbed her feet and pulled her down, allowing the metal to saw through her neck with ease at the tension. The rest of the group simply screamed, tried to get out the side doors which were locked. The man lost his grip and slipped back into the puddle of blood, screaming just before she was fully decapitated, her body falling either side of him as the group ran for the main exit. He screamed again before tried to get up but slipped on to the blood again and again before running for the exit after his friends. That was entertaining.   Once clear, you left your hiding spot just as the boys came down. You walked to the edge of the stage, in no real hurry as Sawtooth came up. He came up and gently lifted you down, making you giggle and press a kiss to his cheek. You didn’t want this feud to drive a wedge between you both. But you had no idea if he accepted your little ‘truce’. The four of you went back to the kitchen. The group couldn’t go anywhere anyway. They would either freeze to death outside, or come back in and barricade themselves in one of the offices near the front door. You ended up sitting on the counter while Three Finger carved up the headless body. There was a new sense of peace in the group and you felt whatever tension between you and Sawtooth had mostly disappeared. The boys squabbled as always as Sawtooth tried to take a little more than a snack and Three Finger wasn’t having it. If there was something Three Finger prided himself on, it was being able to strip flesh from bone in a clean way, and it didn’t look clean if Sawtooth kept picking at it. You smiled, but never ate anything raw. You didn’t like it, but the brothers did. Suddenly, you heard running, heading for the lower levels. But you saw Three Finger had heard it too. He threw his cleaver into the meat and ran to follow, scooping up an axe on the way. You considered going with him, till One Eye appeared and took the moment to step in front of where you were sitting and kiss you. But he too left, heading towards where the group must have bunkered down. Probably to torment them a little more. Sawtooth walked in as you had just jumped down, feeling a little lonely. He walked up to the body, about to take another piece but you slapped him hand away with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. He knew you were playing, and simply picked you up and moved you away to grab a bite. You huffed indignantly but he carried you into the chiefs office and sat you down with a strict “stay” gesture before he disappeared too. -------------------

You didn’t hear anything again from the boys until screaming filled the kitchen. You felt a surge of dread while disappeared when you looked out and saw they were tying down one of the guys to the table. You felt a shiver run through your spin because you knew what they were going to do. You didn’t like when they stripped flesh off of someone whos alive. You didn’t like the way they screamed during it, but you help nevertheless. You didn’t let anyone cut the potatoes or onion because you were convinced they would chop off their fingers one day. Three Finger heated up the oil and you brought the cutting board with veg over to the group. Placing it down, you felt One Eye grab your hand, silently asking you to stay, but you shook your head, kissing his cheek to show you didn’t have any issues with them though. You disappeared into the chiefs office, content with reading through the recipe books. You sat for a while, flipping through the books while the screams slowly died down. When they finally seemed to stop, you ventured out, smiling as you entered the kitchen with the boys. One Eye went to smile back at you, but apparently was in the middle of biting down and started to choke. You didn’t noticed straight away as you cleared away a couple of things but then you noticed Three Finger and Sawtooth hitting his back. You were about to panic, when one of Three Fingers knocks made him cough up the chunk and it flew across the table into the oil. Three Finger and One Eye started to cackle just as you were about to laugh when suddenly, someone smashed something red across the back of Sawtooths head. The man then went for one Eye but Sawtooth pushed him passed the table as Three Finger managed to back the man off a bit. Until screaming filled the room. It all happened so quickly. The group ran into the room, screaming and brandishing weapons. In all truth, you didn’t originally move. It was Sawtooth who grabbed you and pushed you to move and run. You didn’t get a chance to think as you raced through the hallway only to have one way blocked off with fire. Down into the cells you were all chased before, somehow, you ended falling into a cell at the dead end. not just any cell, though. The Hillikers original cell. The group slammed the door shut, locking you in. Sawtooth stood with his arms held out in front of his brothers, Three Finger to his left and One Eye to hid right. You were positioned directly behind the three of them. “Lets kill them.” Someone walked up the corridor, the girl who had caused the fire. “yeah, Jenna, lets do it.” The shorter girl with black hair agreed. “wait, wait. We cant just kill them.” The taller girl shook her head, looking confused. “Why the fuck not?” The man snapped. “They killed our friends and theyre gonna kill us then fucking eat us.” “Yeah we’re not them.” The tall black haired girl gestured towards the cell. “Fuck that!” The man turned to the cell, shining the torch in. “look at me. Look. At. Me. Fuck you, you mother fuckers. Im gonna cut your heart out, you mother fuckers. You understand that?” “I didn’t know there was a girl.” The girl with the curly black hair spoke, eyeing you up just before Three Finger stepped in front of you, snapping his jaws at them. “Shes fucking them.” The guy suddenly realised, his eyes darting to the brothers who instantly became more protective of you. “What, is she your sister? Freaks!” “No, she doesn’t look like them.” Another said. “I saw her file. Well, Daniel showed me. She was just dump here by her parents. They, they bonded or something. I dunno. But the file said never leave them all together.” “We aren’t opening that cell again, Sara!” The girl who was with ‘Sara’ shook her head, backing away from the cell. “No, youre right, Bridget.” The man gritted his teeth, turning to the girl with the yellow top. “Go get the other kerosene lantern. We’re gonna roast these fuckers alive.” You felt a new wave of fear run through your veins as the girl took off running. The girl who had spoke out against the idea looked deeply troubled as the man, who was still covered in his girlfriends blood, glared into the cell. One Eye glanced to you, and you could see he was worried. You all were. When she came back, the man started to dump the oil from the lantern through the cell door and onto the floor. All three backed away and you ended up pressed against the furthest wall, Three finger stepping closest to you. he finished and then pulled out a lighter. “Time for a barbecue, fuckers.” He growled at you all. You noticed Sara closed her eyes, seeming as if she was against this idea as well. “Kyle. Don’t do this.” The girl, whos name you think is Kenia, says. “They deserve it.” Kyle turns to the group, apparently sensing that it wasn’t a universal agreement. “Yeah they do, but you don’t.” She steps closer. “Don’t do this to yourself. Give me that lighter. Give me the lighter.” After a tense moment, one which you were sure he would throw the lighter down and set the floor on fire, he flicked it close and shoved the lighter back in his pocket. “Well, what are we gonna do now?” Bridget threw her hands up in the air in annoyance. “We find the spark plug wires, and we leave in the morning. Storm or no storm.” Kenia said before turning to the cell and talking to the four of you. “Where are the spark plug wires?” The wires. Theyre in the chiefs office. You had closed over the door, but would they think to look int here? You didn’t know. No one answered her, One Eye flitting to the other side of the cell. “Basards cant even talk.” Kyle rolls his eyes. “Fine, then we search. Room by room.” Kenia thinks quickly. “Okay but somebody has to watch them.” Jenna nods to you. “I will.” Kyle volunteers and you instantly raise an eye brow. It appeared from Kenias expression, she had the same thoughts as yours because he turned to her. “I wont touch a fucking hair on their head. Okay?” “Okay.” “Just go look for the wires. Send someone back in a couple of hours to relieve me. We’ll take shifts throughout the night.” He rattles off his plan, and apparently everyone silently agrees as thye file out of the room, leaving him. “Hey, you?” Kyle spoke directly to One Eye who was circling back to you, but was curious and paused. “Are you hungry?” You felt sick, knowing this was going to be some sick joke. But One Eye was the most trusting of the three brothers as the man offered him something from a packet. Before you could stop him, One Eye went to the bars but the man hit his hand.

“Fuck you, motherfuckers. You thought I was actually gonna feed you?” Three finger let out a cackle as One Eye back away to you. You instantly looked at his hand, making sure of no damage. Sawtooth growled lowly. “You know im actually gonna kill all four of you, don’t you? I will. Im gonna say I forgot something, then im gonna come back and im gonna kill each and every one of you freaks.” “Piss off.” You hissed, looking up at him. “You- you speak.” He shines the touch at you, so you smirk at him. “Right, you speak. Motherfucker. So, why’d you do it? Huh?” “You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” You walk up to the bars, placing your forehead against the cool metal. “Wheres the sparkplug wires?” He raised the flashlight and shone it into your face. You smiled, and with a half-hearted shrug of the shoulders, you retreated from the cell door. “Just sleep tight.” Kyle snaps at you through the bars. All three of the brothers quickly moved in front of you, making you smile softly at them. You felt dread building in your chest as you struggled to think of something. You walked into the corner off the cell, struggling to breath as you felt the walls closing in on you. You needed to hide the panic you felt from the group. But you hadn’t been down this area since the breakout, and for good reason. Closing your eyes, you tried to calm yourself so you could think straight. Someone rubbed your arms reassuringly and you opened your eyes to see Three Finger standing in front of you. You immediately stepped close to him, resting your forehead on his shoulder as you sought intimacy. He offered you it, almost purring when you cuddle into him and his arms wrapped around you. For a while, he stood with you, calming you down. In truth, Three Finger was the best when you were like this. One Eye would get too worked up and start to panic while Sawtooth was the complete opposite and offered you no sympathy for fear of showing weakness. But Three Finger knew to keep you close and even nuzzled against you. You felt the panic in your chest start to ease, and you were able to think straight. Looking up, you smiled gratefully, but despite his own dorky smile back, you could see he was concerned, and probably scared. Pulling back, you were also grateful that he had manged to position himself to stand directly between you and the bars. He blocked your view of the guy who was now guarding you all, so you glanced past him as saw the man had passed out on the floor. If you could only get out. Looking back to Three Finger, you could see the worry in his eyes, and both One Eye and Sawtooth watched on in concern. In a few hours, you would be burned to death, and they were more worried about you having a stupid panic attack. They had always cared for you more than themselves, even back in the old days, before you all escaped. An idea shot into your mind like lightening. the pin! Suddenly, you grabbed Three Finger and yanked him over to the basin. after they had escaped and freed you, you had found the pin on the ground and decided that it needed to stay down in their old cell, just in case the orderlies managed to get everyone back under control. So you had hidden it. Getting down on your hands and knees, you reached under the pipes, your hands just fitting as you felt the cold metal of the pin. Pulling it out, you turned back and offered the pin to Three Finger. You saw his eyes light up at the sight of it, the very tool which had offered you your freedom all those years ago. his eyes trailed up to you, and he grinned wickedly. You felt your stomach backflip as you smiled, your fears long forgotten as he taken the pin from your hands. Sawtooth and One Eye hadn’t seen the exchange, or what you had given Three Finger, so they watched as Three Finger crept to the bars of the cell. You followed but One Eye reached an arm across you. They wanted to keep you to the back to protect you. taking his hand, you watched anxiously as Three Finger reached through the bars and started to pick the lock. Every little creak made your heart skip a beat as you waited for the man to wake up. But then you heard a ping, and held your breath as Three Finger started to slowly pull the cell door open again. Sawtooth was first out, taking long purposely strides to the sleeping man. He grabbed him by the throat, pushing him against the wall as he dragged him up to eye height. The fear in the mans eyes was undeniable as he realised how badly he had fucked up. Sawtooth raised his fist and with one sharp jab, the man was knocked out. Three Finger cackled menacingly as Sawtooth picked him back and threw him over his shoulder, leading the way out. You all followed, knowing there was no point hanging around here in case they did find the plug and came back to get their friend. Up, through the corridors you went till you came to the kitchen. Three Finger quickly checked around while you made sure the spark plugs were still where one eye had left them. They were. That was lucky. You came out and saw the had laid the guy on one of the tables, about to kill him. “Wait.” You grabbed Three Fingers hand, stopping him from killing the man. “Cut his tongue out.” The boys looked at you, utterly perplexed. You were normally the more docile of the four, wanting someone to have a quick death rather than long and drawn out. “Cut out his tongue and swap your clothes with him.” You looked pointed at Three Finger as you took the knife and made quick work of the last two fingers on the mans hand. Three Finger, not wanting to upset you again, followed your instructions, swapping his clothes as One Eye cut out the mans tongue. you grabbed a bag and cut eye holes in it before pulled it over his head, tying it there just as Three Finger strapped his gloves on the man. Once he was ready, you got them to help you get the man up to the floor with the girls. Leaning him against the wall, you shook him until you felt him start to move of his own accord. Giving him a rough shove in the direction of the room the girls were held up in, you let him stagger to his feet and he quickly began to stumble away, dazed, confused and in pain. the brothers went to go after him but you held out a hand, stopping them. You watched the man turn right at the end of the hall way. You kept your arm up, and they didn’t cross you. You didn’t need to wait long. You heard the girl battle cry’s as he hobble just into sight before he was bought to the ground by the girls. They had mistaken their friend for Three Finger and now, they were screaming as they stabbed him mercilessly in the back. Poor bastard. you felt Sawtooth push against you, asking to go after them, but you refused. They needed to know what they had done. You needed to break them. Three Finger let out a shrill cackle and their attention snapped up to you. With a smirk, you dropped your arm, and the three brothers stepped forward. The girls scrambled to their feet and fled back to their safe place. You expected the boys to go after them, but Sawtooth stopped, looking back to you. You felt a wave of excitement, knowing what this meant. You were coming along. racing to his side, you beamed at him. You expected him to continue and lead his brothers as he always did, but instead he surprised you. Ducking down, he kissed you. You were taken aback. Sawtooth didn’t kiss. he let you kiss him, but it didn’t seem to mean as much as it did to the others. A kiss was a form of affection he wasn’t fond of, mainly because he could easily tear up your lips if he wasn’t carful. He learned that when you were both young and exploring each other. And yet, he kissed you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, locking him in place as you quickly returned the kiss hungrily. Strong arms lifted you up off the ground as if you were as light as a doll. You felt him wrap and arm around your lower back and the other about mid-thigh, holding you tight against his body. Sniggering brought you both out of the moment as his brothers fought to keep their laughter back. Not out of cruelty, but they enjoyed that despite the stone faced brothers approached, he was as much under your spell as they were. He was as much yours as you were his. Giggling, you jumped up slightly to press a kiss to his cheek while the other two headed down the corridor. Something caught his eye in the next room. Before you could ask, Sawtooth went inside and came out with an ice drill. Three Finger cackled, jumping up and down at the new toy. You smirked at Sawtooth, knowing full well that at least one of the girls will meet a painful end at the hands of such a weapon. You stepped aside, bowing comically as you let Sawtooth walk past you and his brothers to lead the next attack. Rounding a corner, Sawtooth heard the running footsteps and the ice drill roared to life, followed by screaming as the girls skidded to run in the opposite direction. they ran for the front door, which had been chained shut during the day. More shrieks as they realised and had to double back on themselves. Suddenly, Sawtooth stopped. He turned to you, giving a single nod towards where the girls were. You understood. Follow them. Darting in front, you ran with silent feet and sensitive hearing. They were heading upstairs, to the attic. You followed them as they ended up stumbling into the room the guys slept in. Your bedroom was in a hidden door off to the side which was locked. And you were thankful. You didn’t want them rummaging through your stuff. The girls found some of the older clothes, pulling them on to keep warm if/when they got outside. This changed the game again. Because now you couldn’t rely on them freezing to death in the current climate. You had to get them before they left the grounds. You kept to the shadows as the girls ran back out the room, through the attic and back down the stairs, towards the east wing. You didn’t follow them the whole way, instead following the drill sound to find the guys. “They went upstairs and found jackets. They’re prepared for going outside.” You ran up, tell the brothers the new information. Sawtooth huffed as you noticed they had pulled on some of their own thick jackets. The ones they had been wearing the night before, so had probably left somewhere in the kitchen area when they came back. One Eye held out your own, which you had kept by the back entrance. Grinning, you kissed his cheek before pulling it on and guided them towards the west wing. One Eye ran ahead to open a door with his shoulder, but it didn’t budge. He rattled the release handle a few times with little avail. “They’ve blocked it.” You mumble, running forward and looking through the window. You couldn’t see anything in the way of the door, so you looked through the small crack between the two door. You saw a thick object connecting the doors. “They’ve jammed something through the handle.” You call over your shoulder to the others. Suddenly, you heard running and just manage to jump out the way as Three Finger’s body collides with the door, falling to the ground. You press your lips together in a harsh line to stop yourself from laughing as you and One Eye look at each other. His amusement did nothing to help your attempts, so you had to raise your hands over your mouth before hearing grunting from Sawtooth. This wasn’t the time for jokes, even if his eyes did betray that he found it rather comical as well. One Eye tried the same body slam, but managed to catch himself without falling. Nothing seemed to budge the door. There was little point in you trying, so you stood to the side as some kind of strange cheerleader. That was, until, Sawtooth walked up to the door. He looked through the window, before walking back and passing the drill to One Eye. He gave himself much more of a run up to the door, and as his mass collided with the door, your noticed it gave a lot more that the previous attempts. And there was a cracking sound. “Its working.” You run up, pushing on the door and seeing it was now moving if only by an inch or so. You stepped back, looking to Sawtooth as he lined himself up again. A second, and third time but it was the fourth that he broke through the door. Three Finger let out a triumphant cackle as the brothers raced through the door, followed by you. Sawtooth took the drill back as they looked in each room, only to find one girl half was out through a burrow in the snow. She ended up crawling back, wiping snow off her face. She didn’t even notice Sawtooth coming up behind her. She didn’t know until the drill was protruding through her stomach as he mangled her insides. The blood sprayed out, only for you to notice one of the girls had climbed back down to try help her. She was pulled back up in a heartbeat before anything could be done. The drill was turned off and the body fell to the floor, lifeless. The brothers, their eyes fixed on the hole, knew where the girls had gone. Three Finger nudged Sawtooth, making a fist with his right hand and mimicking the revving of a motorbike. Sawtooth smirked and nodded as he left the room, you all in tow. “Ill go get the spark plug wires.” You call out, running past the others, knowing it was quicker you going to get them. You ran and grabbed the sparkplug wires before meeting the boys at the door. They now had more weapons, each holding one. Following them outside to the snowmobiles, you handed each of them a plug for each machine except one. You didn’t know how to even begin to wire one up or even drive one. They boys seemed to have a knack at this kind of stuff. “Once this is over, you have to show me how to drive one of these.” You nod to the dormant snowmobile, looking to Sawtooth, who paused for a moment before giving a single nod. Smiling widely, you watched three Finger as he worked. They wired up the machines before revving them to life. Stepping back, you were reluctant to go back inside when you heard Three Finger cackle. You looked at him and he nodded his head to the back of his. you paused, your heart skipping a beat as you prayed you understood him. Glancing to Sawtooth, he gave a single nod and revved the engine, an indicator to hurry up. Smiling, you ran over and swung your leg over the back of Three Fingers snowmobile, locking your arms around his torso. He glanced back at you, making sure you were ready before the other speed off. You cuddled into his back, grinning as the adrenaline from the ride set in. you loved how fast these things could go. They would be a great addition for the days of boredom. Sawtooth followed the girls tracks in the snow, and it didn’t take long to catch up. They circled the girls, getting them worked up. They screamed and cried out, but then Sawtooth signalled for the other to back off. Retreating back, you stood up on the back of the snowmobile to watch what would happen with the shadows in the distance. They couldn’t see you guys, but because they were in the open, you could just make out them. “Theyre splitting up.” You call out, knowing it was best to attack now. Going in for another attack, Three Finger managed to swing and injure one of the girls while Sawtooth grabbed another. You looked up, seeing the girl was struggling too much and started jabbing something into Sawtooths arm. He dropped her, but neglected to notice the incoming low branch. It knocked him right off his snowmobile. One Eye was right behind him, capturing the girl. You and Three Finger went to check on Sawtooth, who stumbled up with a grumble. He fobbed off your calls of concern, rubbing his head before trekking to get his snowmobile. You knew better than to try fuss over him like this. He would just push you away anyways. You would make sure to check him over once his ego isn’t as bruised. Hearing screaming, you look up and see One Eye had got the girl. Getting off Three fingers, you raced over to see what One Eye was doing. Three Finger sped off, in search of another victim. You saw the blood coming out the end of the bike as he looked up at you, waiting for something. “Well done. That’s really inventive.” You smile as the girls scream become weaker then stop entirely when the snowmobile dropped. One Eye beams at you before looking away shyly. Walking through the snow, you reach up and guide his face towards your own before kissing him, deeply. He melt against your kiss, whining slightly as he reached up, cupping your cheek. You were interrupted when you heard a female voice crying out. Heads snapping to the side, you saw one girl running through the snow. One Eye cut a rope on the back before scooped you up and put you on the back of his snowmobile, revving it and racing away. You wrapped your arms around his torso, holding on tightly.

 ------------time skip -------------

 You awoke, well rested and refreshed. Trudging through the hallways, you couldn’t help but feel happy and content. Three Finger appeared, grinning as he grabbed your hand and started to drag you to the front door, where you saw the truck was now out front. Along with a sulking One Eye. Frowning, you notice the bruising starting to appear on his left eye. Racing out the front door, without a jacket, you were in front of him before he knew it, cupping his cheek and looking at the injury. One Eye smiled, ducking his head a little out of embarrassment. He must have gotten hurt chasing the girls when you and Three Finger had come home last night, after you had rode for a bit with Sawtooth of course. Speaking of which, Sawtooth grunted, signalling to the truck as he climbed on the back with the crane part. One Eye stole a quick kiss before you all headed to the truck.  You took pride of place in the front beside Three Finger, which was already nice and warm. You didn’t know where you were driving to, but Three Finger apparently did as, after about 10 minutes, he pulled up beside a bank of snow. Looking out, you saw two bodies, decapitated. They hadn’t got away. Stepping out the truck, you climbed up on the rear wheel to see the brothers in the back of the truck while Three Finger retrieved the heads of the bodies. They didn’t even see the two snowballs you had in your hand until Three Finger had thrown the heads and bodies in the back and got back into the cab. You took the opportunity to hurl the snow at both One Eye and Sawtooth before diving back into the cab and locked the doors. Three Finger cackled as Sawtooth banged on the rear window. You smiled innocently at him, but you felt the sudden dread that you would soon have to get out the cab. “I don’t think I’ll be getting those lessons today.” You giggled as you glanced out the rear window. Three Finger cackled before driving away. You slipped closer to him, cuddling into his side as he drove.

[teacup-crow]

Here’s a prompt if your still after them: You can use any characters you see fit, but I’m always soft for 5am or Maxine/Paula. It's a long way to Tipperary it's a long was to go It's a long way to Tipperary to the sweetest gal I know farewell to Piccadilly so long Leister Square It's a long way to Tipperary but my heart lies there

Hi Chaos! Okay, I know you sent this weeks ago, I’m sorry it took so long! This takes place pre-canon, so it’s pretty much spoiler free, and is Jack/Gene and Maxine/Paula focused. It also features my deep seated loathing for Dublin Airport. (There is NOTHING there except the world’s most expensive Burger King and they always always go through all my luggage)

I’m also entertained to learn that the verse lyrics of A Long Way to Tipperary include the lines All the streets were paved with gold/ So everyone was gay! May be taking creative licence with the singer’s intended meaning but yeah 

“Maxie, love, it says there’s another two hour delay,” Paula wheels her suitcase folornly back to the metal chairs. Outside the airport, snow is falling in clumps rather than flakes, muffling all sense of the world outside. They don’t know it, yet, but it’s the day before the last Christmas Eve before Z-Day - a Christmas Eve they’re about to spend in Dublin Airport, from the looks of things. Their romantic wintertime trip to Ireland seems less of a good idea by the minute.

“Sweetheart. If I have to eat anything else from Burger King, I’ll go crazy.”

“Well, we’re not exactly spoilt for choice.” Her tone is a little snappish, and she tries to mediate it. “I can go and look for chocolate in the gift shop?”

“That would be nice,” Maxine smiles, leaning back in the uncomfortable seat. Across the way, a small girl is asleep on her father’s jacket, a copy of New Scientist dropped on her face, her mother gently tucking her up. Some rather rowdy young lads are throwing a bottle of drink between them less than surreptitiously and it’s making the parents uncomfortable. 

“Go on, Holden, down it!”

“Down it, down it, down it, down it!”

Paula, tempted to say something, glances over with more than a little disdain as young Holden upends the entire plastic bottle into his mouth, gulping like a fish as his mates shout their approval. They don’t look like the type to be rude, but they’re also unlikely to heed her medical advice. She moves on. Maxine watches her go, the way she strides with so much certainty, so much more confident now than she had been when they met, the swish of her coat, her long strides. God, she nearly giggles, like some kind of schoolgirl. They’ve been together for the better part of a decade and just looking at Paula is still enough to send her giddy. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, or the slight hunger in her stomach or the nausea of travel. 

Yeah, maybe not.

“Uuummm, Jack? You all right, mate?”

Holden is playing with his sleeve, looking very green, and she’s just fast enough to grab him before he collapses.

When Paula returns with a large bar with a giant green sheep on it - really, Ireland? - Maxine is turning the stocky ginger boy onto one side. Recovery position - less than surprising.

“Really, you shouldn’t have encouraged him,” she scolds the rest of the group as he spews on her boots. “It’s unbelievably irresponsible.”

“I feel jus’ fine!”

Paula can tell from the shake in Maxine’s shoulders that she’s struggling to hold back a laugh. 

“You’re going to pay me back for these shoes one day, Jack.”

“Yep! I’m gonna!”

She doubts that. “Get him to drink some water, and he should be all right. If you have any more of that stuff, it’s unlikely you’ll be flying anywhere.”

“Really, do you always have to dive in?” Paula asks as they go to sit back down, splitting the chocolate between them.

Maxine takes her hand. “I remember when I was like that, before I had you to look after me.”

“You were a bit of a terror,” Paula grins.

Maxine screws up her face, and produces the worst attempt at an accent imaginable. “A wee hallion, as the Irish might say.”

“Maxie, please don’t try and do impressions.”

“What! I’m great at impressions!”

“Hmm,” Paula raises an eyebrow, her glasses slipping down her nose. 

“Anyway, next Christmas, we’re not going anywhere. We’re having takeout in the kitchen and I’m not having to help any drunk boys.”

“I can agree with that,” Paula pecks her on the cheek.

“The flight to London Stansted is now boarding at Gate Three. We would like to apologise for the delay this evening...”

There’s an uproarious cheering - the anxious parents scoop up their daughter, and the lads pull each other along, launching back into the chorus again. “It’s a long way, to Tipperary, hey!”

***

Next Christmas Eve, Maxine doesn’t recognise him straight away. 

He’s clinging onto the sick man’s hand with a desperate, feverish intensity for starters, and screams his head off when they try to drag them apart. His eyes are shadowed, his red hair unkempt and longer, and there are fresh scars across his hands. Besides, he’s not her primary concern - the man beside him with severe blood poisoning is. So she doesn’t look too closely at his stricken face until, hours later, his friend is stable, the rotting leg removed. The surgeon they hauled over from Red Settlement, equally exhausted, takes Maxine’s bunk for the night, so she beds down in the hospital tent. The young man waits too, twisting his sleeve in his fingers, head on the end of the bed where his friend’s calf should be. Something about the motion, or perhaps the monotony of waiting, now she’s always tired and always a little hungry, reminds her.

“Do I know you?”

And he looks at her, and she sees a shimmer of recognition, the slight crumbling of a wall.

“This time last year? I think… was I sick on your shoes?”

“You still owe me for those, you know.”

He almost smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It was Toby’s stag do. But they’re all gone now, my mates. Every last one.”

“I’m sorry,” she says. She tries to remember some of their faces, but they’re gone from her head except for the tune they were singing.

“Well, I’ve got Gene. And he’s the only thing that…” he trails off, nearly embarrassed, like she didn’t spend all afternoon watching him go half wild with terror and grief, like she didn’t finally snap at him to sit down and let go or be sedated. “Is he going to make it?”

“I can’t say for sure. We’re not completely out of the woods yet. But Dr Takeda is the best at what she does in a hundred and fifty miles.”

There’s a silence, before he says: “And your... the woman you were with. In the airport. Did she…”

Maxine shrugs, shakes her head, shrugs again. They sit side by side at the end of the cot, listening to Eugene’s breaths rasp in and out, moonlight glinting off the tears on Jack’s cheeks. He’s so goddamn young. She puts an arm over his shoulders, and starts to hum.

It’s a long way, to Tipperary, such a long way, to go...

[frangipanilove]

TRUNK RESURRECTION; PART 2

In part 1 of the Trunk Resurrection post I discussed how TPTB are careful to take any oppertunity to make creative choises that points to TRUNKS is any shape, form or fashion. Car trunks and tree trunks. Human torsos or elephant trunks, it doesnt matter. If it’s a trunk, it can be used by TPTB to say something about TRUNK symbolism.

In Part 2 I’m going to try to explain why this is so important for TD.

ETA: here’s a link to Part 1:

https://frangipanilove.tumblr.com/post/611940721067474944/trunk-resurrection-part-one

I’ve already mentioned that many of us, myself included, believe that after “Coda”, a situation somehow arose,  where TF had to leave Beth behind. It wasn’t by choise, we imagine that it was a matter of survival. The general consensus is that they were surprised by a massive horde, and couldn’t get away fast enough. They had to leave Beth in order to survive themselves, and they put her in the trunk of a car to protect her from getting eaten by the walker horde.

Like I mentioned in part 1, when Beth and Daryl hid from the horde in the trunk of a car in 4x12 “Still”, it was a forshadow of how she’d later be hid in the trunk of a car to avoid getting eaten. And similarly; when we watched the sequence of the abandoned cars from 5x10 “Them”, it served as a callback to events that happened off camera in those missing 17 days.

In “Them”, we watched Maggie find a car with a locked trunk. She located the keys and got it opened, and inside she of course found a beautiful, tragic figure. TPTB at one point confirmed that the Trunk Walker was supposed to represent Beth, and it’s one of the most haunting scenes of the entire series in my opinion.

And as I explained in Part 1 of this post, there is no shortage of exemples where TPTB use every trick in the book to bring attention to a trunk in some shape or form.

In Part 2 I’m going to analyse the symbolism around about seven specific instances where CARS and TRUNKS were front and center, both in a symbolical sense as well as in a literal sense.

And I’ll start with Officer Licari’s Dodge Magnum.

TRUNK RESURRECTION 1: OFFICER LICARI’S DODGE MAGNUM: THE ORIGINAL BLUE TRUNK



The reason I call this a Blue Trunk doesn’t have much to do with the actual color of the car, even though it’s dark blue or maybe back. When I say BLUE TRUNK, it has to do with the fact that it’s a car that belonged to the Grady cops, specifically it belonged to Officer Licari. Therefore, it’s a “Blue Trunk”.

The Blue Clues ultimately points to some sort of police reference. Because Beth at one point wore the Sheriff's hat and was named «The New Sheriff In Town», she’s a part of the Blue Clues. In fact, you could probably say she’s in the center of it.

But there are also other police officers worth taking notice of, and like I said,  Grady cop Licari is one of them. I’m going to explain why shortly, but first let’s revisit a scene from 5x15 «Try». Daryl and Aaron try to catch Buttons The Horse, but they fail miserably. Buttons falls prey to a walker horde, and gets eaten in the most gruesome way. Daryl and Aaron can only watch in horror.

However, as they were trying to save Buttons, TPTB served us up a few very suspicious scenes, such as the one where Aaron trips over a ram (!) that’s laying on top of a walker. If that doesn't seem super random to you, then I don't know what will. And it gets crazier. The walker manages to grab a hold of Aarons foot, almost managing to bite it, but fortunately, Daryl comes to the rescue. And Aaron gets free.




Now, a few things about this scene. I will get to the foot/boot part of it later. It’s obviously something we’ve seen time after time, season after season, and I believe I have a pretty decent interpretation of the foot/boot symbolism. But first things first.

That ram struck me as possibly the pinnacle of randomness! Even for a show that likes to put random details into random places, the ram from 5x15 was just too wild to not be significant. You just KNOW it hides massive clues.

And it did.

If you remember back to 5x7 «Crossed», we saw a close-up of the back of Licari’s Dodge Magnum as Rick chased after Officer Bob.

And there it was! The logo of the Dodge car brand is a ram! Their signature model is even called Dodge Ram!

The logo specifically sits on the back of the car, on the trunk, you could procably say, even if its not called that of this particular car. The whole sequence with the walker trapped under a ram that grabs Aaron’s foot, specifically points to the back of Officer Licari’s car.

That’s not the only suspicious thing about that car, @twdmusicboxmystery​ has written several posts about the cars at Grady, their licence plates and other weird coincidences.

https://twdmusicboxmystery.tumblr.com/post/127651055999/getkath-twdmusicboxmystery-the-foreshadowing

https://twdmusicboxmystery.tumblr.com/post/142791336629/the-aftermath-of-grady-and-evidence-for-it

Also, in 5x7 «Crossed, Sasha and Tyreese actually discussed Sasha’s sorrow over losing Bob right in front of the trunk/back of Licari’s Dodge Magnum. In fact, it is not entirely unrealistic to speculate that if Beth was left in the trunk of a car, it could actually be that she was left in this specific car, Officer Licari’s Dodge Magnum.

TRUNK RESURRECTION 2: THE JEEP CHEROKEE FROM 6X6 «ALWAYS ACCOUNTABLE»

In 10A, we watched a scene where Carol and Daryl were throwing acorns on a can. Carol found a «double-capper», and gave it to Daryl for luck. And look, I’m trying to stay out of ship wars. I’m a Bethyler and a Carol fan simultaneously, and while I’m aware that these acorn scenes have become significant for C@rylers, I respectfully want to offer my interpretation of it. It involves Beth (no surprise there). It also ties into the tree/three/trunk symbolism. I’ll explain how below.

Remember back to s2. Sophia was missing, and Daryl refused to give up on finding her alive. He took Andrea out to search for her in the woods, and while they were walking, he shared a story from his childhood. As a child, he lived under tremendous parental neglect. His father was gone, partying with some waitress, and Merle was doing another stint in juvie.

Daryl somehow got lost in the woods, and was gone for nine days before he found his way back. And he was fine, so in Daryl’s mind there was no reason Sophia couldn't also be fine. The only injury he sustained during those nine days was a rash due to wiping his ass with Poison Oak.

The interesting thing with this scene is that it’s the first time we get an «oak» reference. We get it in combination with a «missing/lost/gone girl reference, and interestingly we also get it in combination with an «ass» reference (Toilet Paper Theory, but that’s a post for a different day). What we actually can take from this, is that the acorn as a symbol is synonymous with the Cherokee Rose from season 2.

Remember the legend of the Trail Of Tears. The Cherokee Rose grew where the tears of the mothers had fallen, to provide «faith and hope» to people who had lost their loved ones. Daryl gave Carol a Cherokee Rose, sitting in a beer bottle, to offer her “hope and faith” that they’d find Sophia. Let’s break down the different parts of the symbolism here. The Cherokee Rose. The beer bottle. The Poison Oak. The acorn.

Acorns grow on Oak trees, so obviously they are synonymous. The beer bottle represents the beer/bear symbolism, which points to Beth through the Ursa Major/Ursa Menor symbolism (or the Big and Little Dipper if you will). I’ve talked a lot about that in several other posts.

In 6x6 «Always Accountable», we saw a Cherokee Rose growing on the back of a mossy walker. Daryl was able to kill it, and perhaps the sight of the Cherokee Rose inspired him to do the right thing by returning the insulin to Tina, Dwight and Sherry.

And it was an amazing thing to see another Cherokee Rose so long after the first one, and here's how we can tell that it is about Beth; it’s about hope and faith in that one day you’ll once again see your missing loved ones that you’ve lost along the way.

Both Sophia and Beth are part of «the missing girl» theme. We know what ultimately happened to Sophia, but we never saw what ultimately happened to Beth. The Cherokee Rose from 6x6 «AA» is as much a beacon of hope to us, the audience, as it is to Daryl.

But what most people don’t realize, is that there was a second Cherokee reference in that episode. Not a Cherokee Rose, but a Jeep Cherokee! And it ties right into the Trunk Theory. At one point we see Sasha and Abraham crouching besides a car, having a discussion on Daryl’s whereabouts. Their choice of words are important in order to properly understand this scene, pay close attention! Abraham says he believes that Daryl has abandoned them, because that’s what he did earlier in the episode. Sasha argues that he came BACK. He RETURNED!

It’s important that they’re having this particular conversation in itself, but the real significance is WHERE they’re having it: Besides the Jeep Cherokee!

The Cherokee Rose symbol was always there to give hope and faith to people who had lost loved ones. It’s not some token of love between Daryl And Carol. It’s something that represents hope and faith after having lost people. And in this particular case, the «hope» presents itself as «the trunk of a car»! It ties right into Team Delusional’s theories of Beth somehow surviving in relation to the trunk of a car. It represents “resurrection”!

So the initial Cherokee Rose in a beer bottle from s2 was always about Sophia and the missing/lost/gone girl symbolism, the Cherokee Rose on the walker’s back from 6x6 «AA» was about Beth, and we know that because of the convo Abe and Sasha has having while sitting next to it. They talk about getting left behind, about Daryl coming back, RETURNING, and finally, we see how Abe asks how they are gonna find Daryl. Sasha replies that they're not! They're gonna let Daryl find them. Then she plants her BOOT in the mud, the camera lingers on it for a moment. Then she says «Daryl is a tracker», they’re gonna let him track them down. And we see her boot print in the mud. I’ll talk more about that boot print later.

And we do know that the Trunk Survival theme applies specifically to Beth, because we did see her hide in a trunk with Daryl in «Still». We also saw a Beth-walker in the trunk of a car in 5x10 “Them», that was confirmed by TPTB to represent Beth. The “trunk theme” is inextricably linked to Beth. And here we also see it along with a Cherokee Rose and a Jeep Cherokee. And Sasha’s boot!

As far as the Cherokee Rose as a symbol is concerned, remember that Daryl placed a Cherokee Rose on Carol’s (EMPTY) grave back in season 3. Daryl believed that Carol was dead, lost somewhere in the tombs of the prison.

From a symbolism standpoint, the important thing is that the Cherokee Rose delivered on its symbolical promise. Its purpose is to provide faith and hope for people who has lost loved ones. In the case of Carol from s3, she was eventually found alive. And that’s why the Cherokee Rose is an important symbol for TD. Thats why it’s interesting that there was a Cherokee Rose in 6x6 “AA”, and that a Jeep Cherokee was involved in a scene where Abe and Sasha were talking about “being left behind”. And ultimatly, when Sasha placed her bootprint in the mud next to the car, it was a direct reference to the trunk/baggage compartment of the car! I will explain the boot/trunk connection shortly, but keep it in mind until then!

And the acorns? They represent Daryls convo with Andrea from s2, when they were out searching for a missing/lost/gone girl. Daryl’s Poison Oak story is evidence  that surviving being «lost»  truly is possible! When Carol gives Daryl the «double-capper acorn» in «Bonds», they’ve just had a conversation about Connie. And Now Connie (and Magna) is the Missing Girl, but most likely she’ll be OK. No way to tell for sure, because the symbolism is about being lost/missing/gone. Daryl was lost as a child and he turned out fine. Sophia resurfaced as a walker, but she resurfaced. Carol was found alive when she went missing in the tombs. Henry became a beheaded walker, but at least he wasn’t lost, never to be seen again. We don’t know yet what will happen to Connie, and Beth is still missing. But the acorns are synonymous with the Cherokee Rose, and represents «Hope and Faith.

TRUNK RESURRECTION 3: SILVER WING/MERLE HAGGARD In 5x4 «Slabtown» we heard Dr. Edwards say that he’d found a patient under a bridge along with a Merle Haggard tape and two packets of Bisquick. Then, in 6x10 «The Next World» we see two posters of a fictional brand of cigarettes; «Silver Wings».

«Silver Wings» is a well known Merle Haggard song, and therefore it’s natural to think of the two posters as Merle Haggard references, and that they tie into the MH reference from «Slabtown».

(Also, there was another Merle Haggard song, «Mama Tried»  being played in FTWD 4x2 «Another Day At The Diamond», and I’ll do a separate post on that one day. Hopefully.)

6x10 starts off with Daryl and Rick leaving ASZ to go on a scavenging mission, hoping to score some food, (and toothpaste, on Michonne’s request). They find a food truck in a Sorghum barn, but they also find a Jesus. Not Christ, but Paul Rovia. But for symbolism purposes, that works wonderfully.

As they leave ASZ, TPTB give us an excellent shot of the back of the car they’re driving. It’s definitely a Chrysler. We see the back of the car a few times, we also see how they stop and reverse the car, driving back into our view. An interesting creative choice by TPTB, where everything is about the back of the Chrysler. Or the trunk...

Why am I going on about the back of this particular Chrysler? Because the logo of the Chrysler brand cars are affectionately called «Silver Wings»...

And the logos are typically located on the back of the car, such as in this shot from 6x10:

We see the silver wings on the trunk of the car.

Also worth mentioning is that due to unforeseen events involving meeting Jesus, Jesus strealing their food truck, and other complications, the Chrysler got left behind. They planned to go back for it later, but it’s certainly interesting what type of car they eventually chose to ride back to ASZ in, with an unconscious Jesus in the back seat. According to the page walkingdead.fandom.com they chose to return to ASZ in a Jeep Cherokee..

A Jeep Cherokee....with Jesus in the backseat...

Oh, and in Part 1 I explained how the symbol “tree” in certain ways refers to the Cross of Christ, and therefore ultimately means “resurrection”. The symbol “tree” is of course also synonymous with the symbol “trunk”, both in the sense of “tree trunk” and in the sense of “car trunk”. We see an interesting illustration of that in 6x10, when Daryl says he rather would’ve left Jesus (Paul Rovia, not Christ) up in a tree, than bringing him home to ASZ. That is literally TPTB confirming the tree = cross connection. “Jesus up in a tree” is a TWD translation for “Cross of Christ”. And by confirming the tree = cross connection, they are at the same time confirming the trunk = resurrection part of the equation. And now is a good time to remind y’all of how Beth is a Christ figure!

TRUNK RESURRECTION 4: RICHONNE’S ROMANTIC ROADTRIP IN 7X12 «SAY YES»

In 7x12 «Say Yes», Rick and Michonne are out scavenging for guns. They come across an overrun carnival, and it is here they have the peculiar «Something serious happened here, these are serious rounds, there might be serious guns here» convo.

In an attempt to get guns off of zombified soldiers, they decide to use a car. And here is where symbolism galore ensues. First, Rick tries to remove a soldier-walker that’s jammed through the windshield. Grabbing his foot, his whole boot with foot comes off.

Later, when they try to push the car to where they’d ideally want it, Michonne must suddenly seek shelter from a walker accidentally shooting around him at random. She dives into the trunk of the car for protection, and as such survives the random bullets.

I’m not the first to point out this sequence. It was always obvious to TD that this was symbolical, and TD has always interpreted it as a representation of how things went down post-Coda. They eventually get out through the sunroof. I don’t have much to add to it, except one thing: the meaning of all the weird foot/boot references we’ve had over the years. Hang on, I’ll get to that in a minute...

TRUNK RESURRECTION 5: THE GREEN JAGUAR FROM 8X11

In my «Morningstar» post, I elaborated on episode 10x11 a little, and how tremendously important I expect it to be for symbolism reasons.

https://frangipanilove.tumblr.com/post/190946439370/episode-10x11-morningstar-sirius-the-star-that

(At the time of posting this, I haven’t actually watched it yet, as TWD airs Monday nights here, and it’s still only early afternoon.)

One of the reasons I expect it to be huge on Sirius symbolism, is that Noah’s t-shirt, with the “one one” text, kind of pointed towards it. And while it primarily pointed towards 8x2 and the Blue Heron painting, there was a huge symbolical takeaway from 8x11 as well. I didn’t know the full magnitude of the symbolism back then, but it’s becoming increasingly clear what an important episode 8x11 was.

It has perhaps gone somewhat under the radar, the symbolism in it is the kind that is slowly starting to shine as the seasons progress and we’re given a larger part of the picture.

We remember how Dr. Carson and FG escaped from the Sanctuary, and FG was in a less than stellar condition. He suffered from some kind of infection, and Dr. Carson was seriously concerned that he’d maybe end up loosing his eyesight. They find this dilapidated cabin in the woods, and go in searching for antibiotics.

Which they find, so FG only loses one eye, and this is how he becomes a Sirius figure.

Episode 8x11 turned out to be a virtual treasure trove of symbolism. The radio equipment (a Sirius reference due to the connotation to Sirius Satellite Radio), the «Sirius piggy-bank» parallel to the Sirius piggyback from «Alone». I talked about these things in in my recent post.

But there’s more.

In the opening minutes of the episode, we watch a walker, stuck in an animal trap, clawing his way towards the broken down car in which FG and Dr. Carson are sitting.

This episode is symbolism galore from the get-go. Guess what kind of car they’re driving?

A green Jaguar. And during the opening minutes we view the car from the walker’s point of view, and what we see, is the trunk!

Jaguars are cats, remember, and cats have nine lives. That’s the symbolic takeaway. The trunk represents survival through the nine lives symbolism. The trunk represents the way many of us believes Beth most likely survived. She was put in a trunk, which protected her from the approaching walker horde. When they went back to get her, she was «just gone». And this episode, 8x11, is filled to the brim with Beth-specific survival symbolism.

There’s the radio equipment, representing Sirius The Dog Star, the star that disappears from the night sky for some time but returns before dawn.

There’s the Sirius piggy-bank.

There’s the ham radio references (a reference to violet the pig, explained in more detail here:

https://frangipanilove.tumblr.com/post/183736635005/sirius-and-the-north-star-or-pigs-feet-and-frosty

There’s a suspicious clock! I’ve discussed it with fellow theorists, and they’ve come up with a few great interpretations. However I do feel like its significant that the hands of the clock points towards the 6 and the 3, which could indicate that it’s a reference to Glenns death fake out episode 6x3.

The clock appears as they find the antibiotics thas FG needs, and Dr. Carson says “This man saved your life!”, referring to the dead man that presumably lived there before. The potential 6x3 reference of the clock and Dr. Carsons statement suggests that the symbolic takeaway is something to do with survival.

And this is all related to Beth because she’s in the center of the Sirius symbolism!

A 6:30 clock was pivotal in Noah’s t-shirt theory, which ultimately pointed towards 8x2 (when we found the Blue Heron painting), but because of the «one one» text written on Noah’s T-shirt, I was aware that it could potentially also point towards 8x11. You could say there’s a 6x3 reference in both ends of the Noah's t-shirt theory. There’s a  6x3 reference in the episode that introduces the theory, and there’s a 6x3 reference in the episode that fulfills and bookends the theory.

There’s even a couple of «serious/Sirius» mentions. They’re sitting on the trunk of the green Jaguar while Dr. Carson examines FG’s eyesight. Dr. Carson is “Siriusly” worried.

We've seen Jadis paint a blue cat. Jaguars are cats. Cats have nine lives. We’ve also seen her sculpt a large replica of the Jaguar logo cat. There are plenty of blue clues around Jadis, and Jadis/Anne was the one who ultimately saved Rick. And the symbolism around Rick is symbolism we also see around Beth, so if Rick is alive, so is Beth.

The fact that the Jaguar is green just ties even closer to Beth, because her last name is Greene! And Beth is part of the “blue” symbolism because “blue” ultimately refers to police. Beth is part of that because she’s the New Sheriff In Town.

Ultimately, this episode tells us that the Sirius symbolism is still in play because FG becomes a one-eyed Sirius figure. It confirms that “radio” still is a Sirius symbol, there’s a Sirius mention as FG and Dr. Carson are sitting on the trunk of the Jaguar (”Sirius” reference in combination with “nine lives” reference). There are also plenty of references to «Alone», through» the animal trap callbacks. And keep in mind; Beth got her boot caught in an animal trap in «Alone». Dr. Carson got his foot caught in an animal trap in 8x11. Il’l get to the “boot” symbolism shortly, it’s important, so keep it in mind.

TRUNK RESURRECTION 6: THE FORD MUSTANG ON THE HIGHWAY IN S2

When Sophia went missing 2x1,  they prepared some foods and drinks for her on the hood of a Ford Mustang in case she made it back after they’d moved on to the Greene Farm.


She didn’t come back, but if she had, she would have found everything she needed to survive, along with a sign saying «we’ll come back every day». If she’d made her way back there, she likely would’ve survived. That Ford Mustang represented her way to survival. It was a «missing girl survival-kit». Unfortunately Sophia didn’t survive, but the Ford Mustang represents the first time we see the entanglement between the “horse” symbolism, the “car/trunk” symbolism and the “missing girl” symbolism.

Symbolically, there are a couple of interesting things happening here simultaneously. 
It’s a car, and it has a trunk, so there’s that. 
The name of the car, «Mustang», refers to a species of wild horses, that are known to be fast, smart and difficult to catch.


It’s a yellow car. Remember Beth’s yellow polo shirt, that covered her upper body/trunk? A very weird sentence to write, but 
I explained in Part 1 that TPTB use anything that has a connotation to the word “trunk”, also the human torso/trunk.

Remember the keychain from 5x10, the one that has a yellow seahorse on it? It’s a reference to Sophias “survival kit-car”,  the yellow Ford Mustang
. It’s a reference to Buttons  The Horse from 5x15 that died horribly. However, there was a ram involved that scene, and symbolically the ram ties Buttons to Sophia’s survival kit-car, via the trunk of Officer Licari’s Dodge Magnum.

When Buttons The Horse died, symbolically it’s ok because the ram points to the trunk of Licari’s Dodge Magnum, and trunks ultimately symbolize resurrection.
 “Horse” symbolism is tied to the “resurrection” symbolism through the “trunk” symbolism. It’s complex because it’s so intertwined, but that is how it works. And speaking of horses; remember this sign?

Right next to it, Morgan found a horse!

This all calls back to the yellow Ford Mustang that was equipped to help Sophia survive, and to the yellow seahorse keychain in the shape of a “3″, that eventually unlocked the trunk from 5x10 “Them”. The message for us is one of “survival”, or “resurrection”.

TRUNK RESURRECTION 7: THE JEEP CHEROKEE FROM «CODA» AND “SLABTOWN”.

Because yes! There actually was a Jeep Cherokee in 5x8 «Coda» as well! We didn’t really see it much, it was basically just sitting there in the parking lot outside Grady the whole time. There was that one scene in «Slabtown», when Beth and Noah almost succeeded in escaping. Beth is running full speed towards freedom, then slows to make sure that Noah is following her, and as she slows, we get a glimpse of this black Jeep Cherokee with a white cross on the back window, sitting next to Licari’s Dodge Magnum.

That Jeep Cherokee was there during «Coda» as well, and whether or not it is the actual car they left her in, it is undoubtedly a reference to the Cherokee Rose in the beer bottle from season 2, the one that symbolized “hope and faith”in the search for Sophia. It was a reference to Carol’s EMPTY grave from season 3, and because we see another Cherokee Rose in 6x6 «AA», along with another Jeep Cherokee, we can assume that the Jeep Cherokee from «Slabtown» and «Coda» are also there to provide faith and hope!

We can see it in the bottom left corner of this heartbreaking shot that ended the episode.

THE CONNECTION BETWEEN “BOOTS”, “PIKES” AND “TRUNKS”

In the “Tree Trunk Theory”,  I’ve explained why the words «cross» and «tree» are so intertwined. As I mentioned, it originates from the earliest written versions of the New Testament, and the fact that they were written in Greek. They used mainly two words for “cross”. One was the greek word for “tree” (and by extension “wood”), and another word they used was was «stavros» which literally translates to «pike»! “Wooden pike”.

Isn’t that just fascinating? While we know absolutely nothing about where Henry was buried, we know that the pike where his head was found has become his «grave marker», his “cross”. Not in a literal sense, but that’s what the pike represents to everyone. To us, the audience, and to Carol and the rest of the characters . The pikes are reminders of the gruesome killings of these innocent people.

In 10x5  something interesting took place. We saw that the border pikes had been moved, and Carol was not particularly happy about it. She was not on her best behavior. She was reckless and egotistical, something which almost caused her to step right into a bear trap.

It was a big, powerful trap. I could have taken her foot off, but fotunately Daryl came to her rescue.

Now, I’ve written plenty on why Bear symbolism is linked to Beth (it’s through the Ursa Major/Menor star constellations, or as you say in North America, the Big and Little Dipper). Also, I’m sure every member of TD remembers vividly how Beth got her ankle caught in a smaller animal trap in 4x13 «Alone». And I'm sure every member of TD took notice of the bear trap in 10x5. We all recognized it as a Beth symbol.

So what did Daryl do, after saving Carol from getting her foot hacked off by the bear trap?

He set off the trap by putting the pike through it! The wooden pike, the pike that is a symbolism synonym for «cross»! The wooden pike that acts as a grave marker for Beth-Proxy Extraordinarie; Henry.

And here comes the juicy part.

In US English, it’s normal to refer to the rear storage compartment of a car as «the trunk»

However, in other parts of the English speaking world, such as for instance the UK and Australia, the appropriate term for the baggage compartment of a car is actually….

The «BOOT»!

With that in mind, think back to some of the numerous foot/boot/dismembered limb symbolism we’ve seen so consistently over the years on TWD and even FTWD. I’ve mentioned a fair few of the exemples in this two-part post, but there are of course too many to recount.

Think of Beth getting her BOOT caught in the animal trap in 4x13 «Alone». Think about Rick pulling off the foot (with the BOOT) of the soldier in 7x12, and Michonne jumping into the trunk to escape the walkers. Think of Jadis stripping Rick naked save for his boxers/trunks, and then stealing his BOOTS. Then think of Daryl, setting off the bear trap around the pike that represents the Cross of Christ, that represents death and resurrection. Think back to «Crossed», when FG escaped his church and got his BOOT pierced by a nail! He was symbolically crucified in that scene. It was a stigmata reference! On the wall behind him there was written «You'll burn for this», which in terms of plot referred to how he saved himself at the expense of his parish. But on a symbolical level, that marked FG as a future Sirius figure (burn/fire is a Sirius symbol because Sirius means «scorching/glowing»). And sure enough, in 8x11, an episode that was foreshadowed by Noah's t-shirt, FG lost his eyesight on one eye, making him a Sirius figure like the one-eyed dog from «Alone» and the «dog with a star in one eye» from Robert Frost’s poems.

Take a look at the “boot” symbolism we’ve seen over the years with fresh eyes, imagine what a scene means if the feet/shoes/boots we see are references to the trunk that Beth was placed in, the trunk that means “resurrection”, the trunk that is synonomous with “tree trunk” and therefore “cross”, as in “The Cross Of Christ”.

Need more evidence? Here we have a scene from “Consumed”, where Carol has an unfortunate encounter with a 1995 Buick Roadmaster Estate Wagon. It’s a car that has wooden panels on the sides, and they’re popularily called “Woody Wagons”. After she has been run over by the Grady cops, they place her on a gurney and puts her....in the back of the car! The wood reference of a Woody Wagon represents the wood/tree/cross and therefore “resurrection”. The back of the car, where Carol was placed, of course represents “the trunk”. This whole scene represents how even a dramatic accident like Carol’s can end with “resurrection”, if the proper symbolism is applied.

And finally there’s this:

This is of course Morgan, from 5x1 “No Sanctuary”. I’m sure it’s obvious where I’m going with this. It’s a tree. With an X (a cross). We actually see...guess how many...yes, three (3) tree crosses.

We also see Morgan in 5x8 “Coda”, literally seconds after we’ve watched Beth “die”. And we also see the same X (cross) on the threes in “Coda”.

It is resurrection symbolism on top of resurrection symbolism.

[bladeblooming]

Nonagenarian

FFXIV Write Day 7

Prompt: Nonagenarian

WC: 622

Wooo more Baby Not-Katla Times! More Creative Licence with Zodiac Signs times!

“How old are you, granny?”

The old woman’s hand shot out like a snake, gripping the lobe of the girl’s ear and giving a short, sharp tug. The child yelped, skittering away on bare feet as soon as she was released. “What was that for?!”

“For being a rude little chit, that’s what for.” The old woman grumbled, settling back into her seat once more. “Didn’t your parents ever tell you to never ask a woman her age?”

The girl rubbed at her stinging ear, lips twisting into a scowl. “No.” She grumbled, shaking her head. Her parents hadn’t told her that. They rarely told her much of anything, really. Couldn’t be bothered, she supposed.

The old woman might have sensed she’d struck a sore spot, or perhaps she just felt guilty for lashing out at the child. She paused, sighed, and patted a spot on the rug beside her, motioning for the girl to sit. Still grumbling, the child did so.

After some time, the woman spoke.

“I’m ninety-four.” She murmured, her voice quiet, the whisper of wind through reeds. “Ninety-five, in three months.”

The girl’s blue eyes bugged, her brows rising. “You’re so old!” She gasped. The old woman muttered an oath that would make a dock worker pause, turning her eyes to the heavens.

“No hope for you, is there!” She groaned. “None at all! When you are my age, I curse you to deal with a dozen little girls as rude as you are!”

The girl tensed, readying herself for another ear-tug, even as a grin tugged at her lips. “I’m not gonna live that long!” She giggled, when it became clear that the old woman had no intention to strike. That statement, though, caught the old seer’s attention. Hawk-yellow eyes narrowed, and the woman’s frown deepened.

“‘Course you are.” The seer grunted, and after a pause, she reached out, clamping a gnarled hand on the back of the girl’s head, guiding her gaze towards a patch of night sky. “See there? That’s the scorpion. Your stars - and mine. You ever seen a scorpion up close, girl?”

The girl nodded, her nose wrinkling. Of course she had. The root cellar was lousy with the skittering black bugs, she had to brush them aside with a broom whenever she went in. “They’re ugly.” She muttered, her displeasure at being born under such an unappealing sign obvious.

The old woman chuckled. “To a scorpion, you’re no catch yourself.” She murmured. “You ever tried to crush one?”

The girl shook her head. “‘S too much trouble,” she explained. “It’d just sting me as I killed it. Better to just sweep it off to the side, if I can help it.”

The old woman nodded, a wicked grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Exactly. A scorpion’s an awful lot of trouble to kill. Even when it’s gotta be done, they’ll do their damndest to make sure their blood’s not the only spilt. You and me, we’re the same way. We’re too damned troublesome to kill.”

The girl looked up at the patch of sky, chewing at the inside of her cheek in thought. “So,” She said after a while, “I’m gonna live to be ninety-four because I’m too annoying to be killed?”

“Hush, girl,” The old woman snapped, sitting back with a sigh. “Don’t you question me. Go and fetch me some tea, the night air is giving me a chill.”

The girl scrambled to her feet with an ease that the old woman envied, hurrying inside to go about her task. The seer sighed, shaking her head.

Not going to live that long. What was Dalmasca coming to, that a little girl could talk like that?

[statementends]

What the Ghost!? CH3

Characters: Basira and Daisy, Jon and Georgie in the background Pairings: Jon/Georgie, Basira/Daisy Rating: G Warnings: None for this chapter Summary: Georgie and Jon have a podcast. It’s been getting a lot of attention recently. Shifting POVs of different people interacting with the WTG podcast and crew and how it ties in with the Magnus Institute. Chapter Summary: Basira discusses her case with Daisy while listening to her favourite podcast.

AO3: Link

Chapter 3: Basira

“The only reason I don’t put a name to these books is there are people that would look for them.” Jonathan Sims grumbled over Basira’s car speakers.

“Maybe we should go into it. It’s one of the few supernatural things you actually believe in. Whenever we get stories about haunted books you get all perky.”

“...Perky?”

Georgie snorted. “Alright, maybe not the right word. You seem to wake up. So, if these books are dangerous isn’t it a good idea to warn the public?”

“I suppose but… putting a name to them could be just as dangerous.”

“Are there any signs to watch out for?”

“If you find a book that draws you in--”

“The Hellbound Heart, officially a spooky book.”

“....You said wanted warning signs.”

“Alright, alright, go on, Jon--”

Daisy snorted.

“What?”

“Jurgen Leitner.” She said. “That’s what he’s talking about.”

Basira frowned keeping her eyes on the road. Daisy didn’t usually offer up much information for sectioned cases. “What’s a Jurgen Leitner?”

“Trouble. If you ever find a book with that name in it burn it. And if you can’t burn it, run and pray.”

“Really?”

“Mm.”

Georgie’s voice again as they settled back into silence. “Old books, compulsion, strange sensations, smells, auditory hallucinations, you know what this all sounds like, Jon?”

“I’m well aware. Things that you should seek medical attention for. Signs of stroke, seizure, and mental illness. The books are real though.”

“Now, I get a lot of your ‘prove it’s Jon.”

Basira smiled. Jon’s skepticism was overdone at times. It was nice to see him getting the other end of it from his co-host. Georgie was the believer of the duo, but she wasn’t blind about evidence. She’s a smart cookie and the two kept each other on their toes. She’d never admit it, but they reminded her of her and Daisy in some ways.  

“Yes,” Jon said. “I know. I’m sure I come off as a hypocrite. I don’t care. They’re real.”

“Who are you and what have you done to my partner?” Georgie said with mock shock.

“Hah. Hah. Let’s look at Sebastian’s story then. Perhaps we’ll find some evidence there.”

“Be still my heart.”

“This isn’t the first book we’ve heard about, Georgie!”

Daisy fiddled with the sound bringing it down a little. “He’s a charmer.”

“You said it yourself that he’s right, if he is talking about those books.”

“Leitners. Yah.” Daisy stared out the window, rain started hitting the glass. “Nasty things,” She muttered to herself. “I don’t understand why you like this show. Being sectioned and all. These two might stumble on a fact or two, but at best it’s watered down and second hand, and at worst they’re spreading things that shouldn’t be spread.”

“It’s better than the Archers.”

Daisy didn’t say anything for a moment, but Basira could feel her narrowed eyes on her.

“Archers is relaxing.”

“Right.”

“And I’m the ranking officer. You’re lucky we switch at all.”

“Right Ma’am. Sorry.” She would have added a sarcastic salute, but with the heavy rain it was better to keep her hands on the wheel. Daisy always got edgy in heavy rain. She didn’t know why.

“I went back to the Institute.” Basira offered.

“Anything interesting?”

“It’s...a weird place.”

“That’s why you’re assigned to it.”

“I know, I just...have you ever been there personally?”

“No, just heard the rumours. Why?”

“I don’t know…” Basira said slowly. “As soon as I went down into the archives it was like I was being watched. Just a feeling on the back of my neck.” She shrugged.

“Any suspects?”

“The head archivist Sasha James had the most to gain, but she seems… average.”

“You sound doubtful.”

“You know how some people are just… too perfect? Too cookie cutter? That’s what it felt like talking to her. She seemed… too boring almost. After what happened down there it was...weird. It’s like… her life’s a stock photo. Exactly as it should be. Nothing out of place. Nothing too exceptional.” Basira drummed her fingers on the wheel. Daisy hummed, listening. Basira continued on:

“There was the one that got attacked by the worms, Stoker. No motive, never met the victim, I’m surprised he still works there. He seems like the type that could get a job wherever he likes. Handsome bloke.”

Daisy sniffed. Basira’s mouth quirked and felt a little silly for it, hoping that it might be a little bit of jealousy.

“The last one … he doesn’t strike me as a murderer. Not that it can’t be the quiet ones. A lot of times it is the quiet ones, but… I don’t think he has the guts or teeth for it honestly. He was nervous talking to me, but I think it was because he’s an anxious person talking to a police officer. Went over finding the body in the tunnels again, it all checked out.”

“And the boss?”

“Eh, didn’t set off any alarms. He’s kind of smug, but he’s also a man with a fancy title so that comes with the territory. I’m sure it was an inside job though. The bloody table, the location of the body…”

“They get plenty of freaks in there,” Daisy pointed out.

“I don’t know...just… instinct.”

“The best hunts are never straightforward,” Daisy said. “Keep at it. Bring me in if you need me.”

“I’m sure I can handle a bunch of librarians.”

Georgie’s voice cut in then with: “So watch yourself in libraries and keep sending in your submissions! I’m Georgie and that was Jon. Goodbye!”

The ending music started playing. Georgie’s voice came back in: “What the Ghost!? is a podcast distributed by whattheghost.com and licenced under a creative commons attribution noncommercial sharealike international licence. Our submission today came from Sebastian A. If you have a topic for our team to research please submit your story to w--” Daisy turned off the show.

“Sometimes I think I should look into those two.” Basira said. There was a cafe not far from their location. She could use some tea.

“The podcasters?”

“They could be in danger. They’re not just talking about ghosts and horror stories. Some of their things fall into sectioned stuff.”

“They’re not breaking the law,” Daisy said. “And warning them off would probably encourage them more than anything.”

“Yeah… I guess you’re right.”

Daisy turned the dial to Radio 4. Basira sighed.

[bpod-bpod]

Swimming Strokes

Bacteria swim around inside our guts using tiny propellers, called flagella, fuelled by chemicals sluicing nearby. Here Escherichia coli (E.coli) bacteria are using a different energy source – proteorhodopsin – which releases energy when exposed to light. Under an illuminated pattern, the bacteria swim quickly in lit areas, and slowly in unlit ones, producing – with a little guidance from clever physics – a portrait of Albert Einstein matching a projected image. Switching the pattern signals the bacteria to paint a different picture – guided by changes in the light and dark areas. Einstein’s face morphs into Charles Darwin, a living portrait created in around five minutes. Aside from giving the tiny swimmers a new hobby, scientists hope to use the artistic technique elsewhere – perhaps guiding clouds of bacteria to push drug-carrying devices around the body. It’s likely both Einstein and Darwin would approve.

Today is the 210th Anniversary of Charles Darwin's birth

Written by John Ankers

Video from work by Giacomo Frangipane and colleagues

Dipartimento di Fisica, Università di Roma "Sapienza", Roma, Italy

Video originally published under a Creative Commons Licence (BY 4.0)

Published in eLife, August 2018

You can also follow BPoD on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook

[marginalgloss]

toybox mentality

The thing about Milkman by Anna Burns, if it was described in the abstract, is that it might sound a bit dour. A bit unsettling. A bit difficult. This is a book about the Troubles, sometime in the late 1970s; it's written from the perspective of a woman who is being stalked by a man who may or may not be an intelligence agent; and the prose unfolds in long paragraphs dense with clauses. It is lucid, and sometimes exacting. Is it difficult? Kind of. 

Certainly it was a surprising choice for winning the Booker Prize last year. 'Experimental' novels are sometimes nominated for that prize but frequently don't win. A Brief History of Seven Killings by Marlon James is perhaps the closest recent comparison – both are historical novels, both have a decidedly post-imperial slant, and both have a playful approach to their own textuality. But that's about where the similarities end. James’s novel was a comprehensive take on a very specific set of real events, shaped a great deal of the creative licence that we expect from historical fiction. It was a big, engrossing novel as they might have recognised it in the nineteenth century. Milkman is a very different beast. A more apt comparison might be with James Kelman's How Late it Was How Late, which won the Booker back in 1994. That, perhaps, was one of the last truly controversial prizewinners, with one of the judging committee threatening to resign if it won.

Bizarrely, wikipedia currently describes Kelman's book as belonging to the 'stream of consciousness' genre, which seems like a peculiar sort of inverse elitism. If we accept that description (though it is more or less meaningless) one might well file Milkman alongside Kelman’s book even though they are written in very different styles. What they do have in common is a certain way of thinking about life as it exists under a state of imperial power and near-constant conflict. The causes of said conflict are so far removed from the lives of ordinary people so as to be rendered incomprehensible to the reader. Clearly there is an occupation of some sorts but how it came about might as well be the stuff of legends. But for both authors, language becomes a refuge for the spirit of the individual, and a means of passive resistance.

There are a couple of mistakes it is easy to make with books of this nature. The first is the 'stream of consciousness' misconception – the idea that in scanning each line we are somehow plugged straight in to the narrator's thinking, talking, acting, being. Joyce has a good deal to answer for in this regard, but the blame oughtn't to be laid at his feet; the problem is more to do with what is done to Joyce than what he actually did, since there is a great deal more to Ulysses than Molly Bloom's chapter. Describing a thing as a 'stream of consciousness' is invariably reductive. It assumes that what we're reading is the sum total of an individual, more so perhaps than if they were telling us a story in a sort of campside voice. And it's a convenient way of treating language that might appear disorderly or unconventional as if it were a kind of aberration. 

This leads us on to the second mistake one can make with a book like Milkman – mistaking the music of the text for a written recording of speech. Rather than looking at the words as words, if one takes this approach there's a tendency to become mired in concerns about historical and cultural accuracy. We start to make judgments line-by-line about accents, class, and status. Questions of meaning become sublimated to thoughts of whether or not what we read is accurate. And in most cases the only guide we have for this kind of accuracy is our own prejudice. Language is thus reduced to a signifier of authenticity.  

Questions of authenticity sound throughout every page of Milkman. It begins with the title: the 'Milkman' himself is the aforementioned spy-stalker, and not really a milk-delivering-person at all; the narrator is careful to differentiate him from the 'real milkman', a totally different man who actually delivers the milk and maintains an active belligerence towards local partisan groups and, in fact, pretty much everyone in the community. Most of the other characters in the book aren't properly named, and are referred to only in relative terms – from 'maybe-boyfriend' to 'third brother-in-law' and all varieties of familial relations in between. The point is that in this community, naming names puts a person beyond the pale, or worse – but since gossip forms the metabolism of the community, talking about things without using their true names becomes an essential part of everyday life. 

This creates a sort of puzzle for the reader. Part of the work necessary is in unpicking the narrator's oblique references to what has come before, and what will come after; we have to work a bit to decipher, to cross-reference. A family tree would have been helpful for the reader, if dangerous for the narrator: we get the impression that all this obscuring with name-confusion is part of the point. The impression is of a text that has been coded for safety. Yet it isn't coded in such a way as to truly anonymise everything. Ireland itself is never explicitly mentioned here, but it would be impossible to mistake this for a book about anywhere else.

This raises a question which I feel entirely unequipped to answer: does this process of un-naming render the book more equivocal than it would be otherwise? I found it hard to find much in the way of politics in Milkman. There's little here of the outright anti-imperialism we can find in James Kelman. Instead, the narrator maintains a sort of light contempt for both sides in the conflict. Their motivations are always obscure. History is expressed mainly in a record of tragedies, most of which seem more or less gruesome and inexplicable. The present conflict is a heap of local dogs with their throats cut by the state forces; it is the scurrilous rumours about a car part from a Bentley, which may or may not bear the British flag; it is the local agents threatening a group of second-wave feminists, before the local women calm them with a show of practical contempt for the ‘toybox mentality’ of the renouncers. 

All of this seems horrible and absurd, all the more stark because it is stripped of much of the context that would enable an understanding of how the world came to be like it is. Everyone is about as bad as everyone else, except for the few who aren't. It is all only boys playing with their toys. Another unanswerable question: is the pursuit of this literary effect only a way of side-stepping awkward questions about cause and effect, or is it a sincere representation of how it felt to grow up in such a society? Milkman isn't exactly apolitical, but it doesn't seem especially invested, or interested, in any kind of ideology outside the survival of an individual consciousness. 

Black comedy is very much the dominant tone here. At first something will happen that seems as though it's going to lead to disaster until (in most cases) the author slowly deflates the issue. There's a sort of tension between the constant aura of threat and the linguistic thicket thrown up by the narrator's incessant thinking and talking. Language becomes her only means of defense, and sometimes her means of attack. Absurdity is part of the comedy at play, but it's a very specific sort of absurdity. Flann O'Brien feels like a fair stylistic comparison: we have here the same relish in verbosity, that same arch, dilated, expansive use of language. 

And yet for all the tension there is no quietude. The narrator is not actually threatened into silence. The overwhelming presence of the text is proof of that. There is no anxiety here – quite the opposite. In life we're given to understand the narrator is bookish and somewhat solitary but in her own story she is in absolute control. This is not a surreal novel in the way of O'Brien. The narrator here is always specific. Words are used to say precisely what they mean, but the narrative could be called a literal interpretation rather than a transcription. To put it another way: we are told exactly what the characters say, think and do, but we aren't told it in their own words. The question of reliability never seems to come up. We trust her, I suppose, because we must trust her. In a meaningful sense there isn't really anyone else in this novel.

Sometimes this feels suffocating. This is a long book: a tad under 350 close-set pages in paperback. It feels its length. I have sympathy for criticisms I've read that take aim at the narrator's tendency to repeat the same adjectives under slightly different names. This kind of repetition, recollection, raking-over (for that is what she does) isn’t the literary maximalism it could be mistaken for; I think it has more in common with a certain kind of minimalism, given the focus on a relatively small, specific quadrant of human experience. 

It is exhausting to read because it attempts to be exhaustive. What we're left with is a book which tries obsessively to re-word, re-frame, re-cast a certain very specific sort of strange experience in a strange place in a strange time – a young powerless woman being followed obsessively by a powerful older man. Until eventually the sheer weight of the thing itself – the book – wrenches the situation around until this dynamic of power is neatly, effectively inverted. Would it work if the book weren't so weighty? I'm not sure. 

[hcpefulmarshmallow]

I’ve been thinking about how so much of the way Komaeda presents himself seems so reactionary, in light of what he’s been through, which can make AUs hard because even a small change can make him feel like a different character altogether, thus rendering said AU pointless and stressful for a stickler like myself. You know, a normal Monday. So I decided it’d be fun to go over a few AUs I’m fond of, and just see if I can reconcile this other Komaeda with the canon dumpster fire we all know and adore. This post is mostly for my own reference, and I may add to or alter it in the future, but hey, if any of my mutuals see something you like, feel free to hit me up.

His Parents Live AU

As we’re aware, Nagito’s luck makes it’s mark very early on in his life. First, the death of his dog, and then the deaths of his parents at the hands of a meteor, which also caused the plane they were on to presumably crash and kill everyone else on board, see here, here and here. 

 From that moment, he has pretty much no one to help him learn or grow or understand his emotions, or pretty much anyone who didn’t treat him like a nuisance in general. And to be honest, I’m not entirely sold that his mother and father did the best job with him that they could, but hey. They were his parents. Still, this is the assumption I will be labouring under for the purposes of this post. 

 Their deaths lead Nagito to grow up as someone who is independent, but never really learned how to other people very well. He only takes direction when he feels like it, and he acts as if he’ll never have to answer to anybody, doing always what he thinks is right, and to hell with the rest of it. 

 So what if we put them back in the picture? How does Ko’s present self change?

 I foresee a person who is less inspired by the idea of hope overcoming despair, and more tired of it, or at least tired of his own belief in it. He’s seen this cycle so much by now, but has been shamed for it at every turn. 

 Although he’s much better at getting along with people (albeit slower to try), he still struggles to make friends. Partly because his luck makes him nervous they’ll somehow get hurt, and partly because he just can’t relate to them, nor them to him. Therefore, he has only his parents’ approval to strive for, which he knows he’ll never achieve. Whether they mean to or not, by now, his parents have distanced themselves from the son who has inadvertently attracted to much trouble - and he feels like it’s all his fault.

 He swears he’s okay with this, knowing that keeping his distance will allow them to better live their lives uninhibited by his curse. However, he still wants their attention and love, and in a misguided and contradictory attempt to get it, will engage in more risky behaviour, but then hide that from them so as to not be an even bigger disappointment. Partly, though, this is also an expression of his self-loathing, and firm belief that, though he’d like to be a stepping stone to hope, it’s not something he can aspire to. 

 He comes across as charming and friendly, but won’t make an effort to befriend anyone, actually preferring to keep to himself. During the rare times he does go on one of his Rants(TM), he’s far more vitriolic. He won’t reference his own luck unless he must, and somehow hates himself more than his canon counterpart. He’s quicker to bitterness and secrecy, refusing to tell his parents a thing even after his terminal diagnosis.  He also keeps his sexuality from them for a very long time, for all these same reasons.

 Otherwise, he’s very much the same person. Still adores his talented Ultimates, still quick to love them, to die for them; still desperate to be one of them. 

Various Talent AUs

These are fun because they can change based off the talent. One sweeping alteration across the board, is that he’s more arrogant, and looks down even further on the untalented. That said, he still doesn’t put himself up as high as the others, and that’s because deep-rooted psychological issues transcend ideology, especially in someone as deeply damaged as our boy. Here are some of my favourite examples:

Detective!Komaeda

I’m of two minds about this one. I like the idea that he doesn’t consider himself that great a detective, much like Shuichi. Therefore, he feels undeserving of his title. Or perhaps he can recognise his skill, but views it supplementary to the others: something he must use for their benefit. Rather than catching criminals, he’d rather solve his classmates’ issues behind their backs so they can focus on being the best they can be, without petty distractions in the way. 

 In this timeline, he would take on a calmer, more Sherlock-esque demeanour. Since he’s an Ultimate Detective, he wouldn’t need to try to get peoples’ attention; they would give it to him, trusting his words as true deductions. But this is not a privilidge he abuses, using it only when he has something of value to say, and keeping quiet the rest of the time. He does feel the pressure of that trust though, leading him to isolate himself in direct rebellion with his desire to make friends.

 His ability to believe in others is tested frequently, as he’s often brought in on the more brutal cases as he seems to be able to stomach them so much better (as even Hajime observes in canon how unperturbed he looks towards the beginning of the game). But these cases take a heavy toll on his psyche, especially the ones that hit close to home.

Mystery Novelist!Komaeda

Nagito doesn’t consider his books especially great literature. He started writing as he kept running all his local libraries and bookstores out of new stories, and since he found mysteries comforting, decided to make his own. He never intended to publish, but one of his manuscripts was sent in without his knowledge by one of his favourite librarians, and his stories became overnight sensations. 

 His greatest criticism is that the people in his stories don’t always act like people: but otherwise, he is praised for how deeply he can make readers feel what his characters feel. What his adoring public don’t know, is that he’s based a lot of that off of things he’s seen and experienced, venting his own depression and post-traumatic stress into his work. As a result, he never re-reads his own writing once it’s completed. He is also critically acclaimed for the complexity and intelligence behind the mysteries he creates, fooling even some of the greatest minds who read his work up until the very last page. And even then, they’re left with a sense that the answer could’ve never been anything else.

 It’s this reputation that gets him invited to Hope’s Peak, although since Nagito doesn’t think his books are that great, and because this ‘talent’ comes from a deep pain he feels hopeless to resolve, he thinks of his talent illegitimate. He doesn’t bring it up unless made to, and refuses to be interviewed. 

No Tragedy AU

Ah, the dream. The kids get to go to school, enjoy their school lives, graduate and live happily ever after. What would become of our boy in the big, bad adult world? Actually, this is a favourite of mine, but do permit me a little creative licencing here. For the sake of a better answer than “he ded”, we’re going to assume Nagito either never gets ill, is cured of his illness, or his condition is indefinitely stable. 

 I think that, after graduation from Hope’s Peak, Nagito will never wander far from his beloved school. The position of talent scout will be offered to him due to his innate ability to sense hope and despair and talent, and he will adore his job. He even comes up with innovative ways for the school to improve, citing his own experience as a student, and the mistakes he saw made. 

 If and when he’s ready to settle down with someone and start a family, he will take paternity leave to be with his child, but will always return to the school. After his first/only, however, he does not come back as a scout, but rather, takes a teaching post, allowing him to, instead of just finding future Ultimates, help shape them into the best that they can be. (And also, because the hours are more structured and require less overtime, so he can be with his family more.)

 For Nagito, there is no higher cause a lowly nothing like him can dedicate himself to, than to see that hope is nurtured through the generations. He’s matured a lot by now, but he’s still a pretty...bizarre teacher, to put it nicely, often going off on lesson-long tangents about how “each of your talents is uniquely beautiful, and you should treasure them and use them to bring about hope!” Typical Nagito stuff. But he does truly care about his students, and is fair and treats them well. He works hard to earn each and every one’s respect over the years. Most of his former students will write to him at some point, citing him as one of the reasons they learned to believe in themselves and in their skills. It’s not a job he ever wants to retire from. 

[yabisagashouse]

the escapee

Probably in some way Like you and him And her and them, I am A fugitive, a refugee High flying or low creeping We are that much the same And there is no escape that I can see By any normal means

In the square of a middle-sized market town The people stare when the shoes on your feet Are different from those in the windows of the shops Or your face is not from the standard mould They do not cross the road when the little man is red Even when no traffic is coming And the cars do not stop at the zebra crossing Even when people wait to cross A trip to the shopping mall on Sunday morning Is the project for the week A town dropped centuries ago from the flat grey sky Onto the flat brown plain Where the people say (Never having ventured very far away) This is the best place in the world

So from this market square In the best town in the world I ran far away

Among all pretty hills and valleys Of flowing waters sparkling in the sun The light reflected shines so bright it dazzles Deflecting eyes from many little lies And eager exiles come in boats Roam the valleys and the hills Unwitting bound for other grinding mills Rose sellers by the village path Smile bright with seven-coloured eyes But their smiles are crooked Seductive air, fluttered whisperings Essence of thyme dances through the glade But the jade water maiden's troth is lightly made Stained glass splinters tinkle as they fall Down the church's crumbling walls While little piles of rocks salute the sacred mount Rising unaware through iridescent mist And the new preacher blows a kiss Then runs to land a blow To the heads of creatures of the unloved kind While the word book resonates, it's binding mesmerising The kaleidoscope chameleon standing on it Blinks an eye Licks up a pretty butterfly Casts a coin into the well Pays for a day's illusion Of the best place in the world

So from those valleys and hills I ran far But not away And am running still

I run to hoped-for farther corners I sink to longed-for deeper channels I fly to willed-for outer reaches I travel not one inch in space Yet I am on the run The companions few but good Along the way This is the glorious paradox There is perhaps escape But not by any normal path

Copyright © Robert Hale 2018. Santa Eulària des Riu, Eivissa, April 2018.

(Image: “I’m still running away” by Vincepal via Flickr, reproduced under Creative Commons licence.)