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korkorali · 4 years ago

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The Beginning

Alright, I wanna talk about the Hp au, so all my my followers are going to be subjected to another post about it!

Today, I think I’m gonna talk about some plot points for what the beginning of the ‘First Book’ would be! (From the beginning up to the collecting of the wand)

First, a few fun facts to get you interested, though

- The first fic’s title would be The Brothers Who Lived (Maybe, I’m not too sold on any title yet)

- It would mainly be told with Dewey at the focus

- Though this doesn’t mean his story would be an exact replica of Harry Potters

- Specifically, he lives with Gosalyn and Drake, who love him a lot

- Though his stay at Hogwarts would be a different story

Caught your interest? Well, continue reading under the cut for more ;) (be warned: it’s a bit long)

- We start off with Drake Mallard going about town

- He keeps running into weird people saying that ‘She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead!’

- This confuses him but he’s seen weirder, they don’t seem to be hurting anyone, so let them be odd, as far as he’s concerned

- He ends up running into this old man, who strikes him as one of those weird people. yet he seems a little sadder than the rest of them

- He is holding a bundle in his arms

- Drake talks to the old man, and he seems nice enough

- They part ways, and later Drake the bundle the old man was carrying in his kitchen

- He opens the bundle to reveal a one year old child, with a note that says ‘His name is Dewey Duck’

- He knows he should contact the authorities, and try to find that old man, but until then, he’ll take care of the kid.

- Fast forward about ten years (specifically about a week before then) and Dewey and his sister Gosalyn are enjoying their summer break by playing video games

- The mail comes and Drake goes to collect it

- He’s surprised when he sees a letter for Dewey tucked into the usual junk mail

- The surprise turns into concern and worry when the address has Dewey’s bedroom on it

- He decides to just it away and pretend it doesn’t exist

- Cuz that’ll solve all his problems

- He ‘nonchalantly’ talks to Dew and Gos about whether or not they’d like to go on a small vacation for Dewey’s birthday

- The next day he gets two of those creepy letters

- He once again pretends that they don’t exist and burns them

- Dewey and Gosalyn start getting a little suspicious

- A day goes by without any letters

- Drake thinks that’s the end of it.

- Then they get a full eight letters

- Cue Panic

- He makes Dew and Gos make a pack and then they head out for ‘vacation’

- They are thoroughly suspicious of him by now

- Gos calls Drake out, but he dismisses her and they go by boat to some run down house on an island

- Drake is sure that’ll be the end of it

- The night before Dewey’s birthday, he decides to stay up until midnight

- Gosalyn joins him and they talk about stuff

- Dewey admits that he wishes he knew about his birth family

- Drake’s only ever told him that he was given to him by some old grandpa

- But both Dewey and Gos think he’s joking about that

- Gosalyn kinda understands, because she knew her grandfather

- She still thinks of Drake as her dad, but she finds comfort in knowing about her biological parents

- So she hopes he learns eventually

- The clock strikes twelve

- Dewey turns 11 (and the same age as Gos, but only for a week)

- And suddenly the door gets busted down

- Gos and Dew are, obviously, pretty fucking scared

- home invasion and all that

- Drake swoops in with a punch to the dudes chest, and nearly breaks his hand

- The strange large man apologizes for knocking down the door, saying that he just wanted to knock

- He says hi to Dewey, introduces himself as Launchpad, and goes to sit down

- Drake shows a lot of confusion at this turn of events. Specifically, he wants to know how Launchpad knows Dewey’s name

- Launchpad express’s his own confusion at this, and realizes that Drake, Gosalyn, and Dewey know nothing about the wizarding world

- So he gives Dewey his Hogwarts acceptance letter (and a cake, which already has a Launchpad-sized bite taken out of it) and explains -sort of- about how he’s a wizard, and what that entails

- He also tells Dewey a little bit about his family, which 100% sells Dewey on the idea

- Drake, understandably, does not believe him, until he gives them a show of magic

- Which kinda freaks Drake out, but makes Dewey and Gosalyn way too excited

- Drake decides to allow Dewey to give this ‘Hogwarts’ a try

- But he does tell Dewey that he’ll love him no matter what happens

- So the group makes plans to go to Diagon Alley with Launchpad in a few days

- A few days later, the group meets up with Launchpad outside the Leaky Tap

- Drake doesn’t notice the Leaky Tap, but he’s the only one who can’t

- Of course, he can easily see Launchpad, so it doesn’t really matter

- Drake is still a little wary about the whole thing, but he is quickly warming up to Launchpad, which helps to put him at ease

- When they enter the Leaky Tap, everyone (sans Launchpad) is surprised at how everyone inside seems to know Dewey

- They even recognize a few faces as some of the strange people who’d wave or act like they knew him sometimes

- Drake never really liked those people

- Launchpad explains that Dewey and his brothers are kinda famous, and he’ll tell him more later after they get him his stuff

- They leave the Leaky Tap out the back entrance, and enter Diagon Alley

- Cue shock and amazement from everyone

- Especially Drake, as he can no longer deny that this actually a thing that is happening

- The kids run off, looking into the shops at all the amazing and mind bending things in them

- They are quickly enthralled

- Drake is initially worried that they’ll get lost, but Launchpad assures him that it’s fine, because the place they need to go (Gringotts) is straight ahead, so they probably won’t get lost

- He and Drake talk for a little bit (Drake is still annoyed about how the letters had Dewey’s f r e a k i n g bedroom on them) and Launchpad gets Drake to calm down a little

- Just in time for them to enter Gringotts Bank, and thusly, the mine-cart roller-coaster

- Drake hates it, the others love it

- Launchpad picks up a mysterious parcel, which the kids are immediately intrigued about

- Then they get back on the mine-cart to go to the vault Dewey shares with his brothers

- He learns that both his brothers have already accessed the vault earlier that week, which means that he won’t be running into them until the school year starts

- Which he’s kinda bummed about

- All sad feelings go away when he sees the inside of the vault, and the massive amount of Galleons in there

- Which means that Dewey’s rich

- Which Gosalyn immediately comments on

- After they shake themselves out of the money stupor, and Dewey grabs a fair amount of money, the group goes back outside of Gringotts and begins the trek for Dewey’s school supplies

- Dewey and Gosalyn try to go on a spending spree, and the get the most impressive/expensive stuff

- Which leads to Drake confiscating the gold pouch

- At least until after Dewey gets all his school supplies

- They get most of them, including getting Dewey fitted for robes (which both Dewey and the seamstress hated - Dewey cannot stand still for the life of him) until it gets to the wand

- Dewey and Gosalyn go in, but Drake and Launchpad stay out, saying that they wanted to get him something

- The shop is run by a old duck by the name of Olivander

- He is immediately excited to see Dewey, one of the ‘Chosen Three’

- Though he does spare an intrigued glance to Gosalyn

- He gets right to it afterwards, fitting Dewey with wand, after wand, after wand

- None seem to be right (which makes Dewey nervous)

- Until Olivander finally picks out one special wand, which Dewey immediately knows is right with barely a touch

- He picks that wand, and Olivander explains that it’s core is a phoenix tail feather

- And that the phoenix that gave him that tail feather gave him one more

- And that one had been placed in his mothers wand

- Filled with awe and respect, Dewey pays for the wand, and he and Gos head back out

- And they find Drake and Launchpad waiting for them, with an owl for Dewey

- Gosalyn decides that that’s unfair, until Drake explains that it’s so that Dewey can write to them

- Dewey, overcome with emotion, decides to name his owl Darkwing, for the show that his family was raised on

- Which makes Drake emotional as well, and he does a poor job hiding it

- Drake makes Dewey promise to write every day while he’s gone, and he tells him again that he’s already so proud of him

- And he does end up caving to Gosalyn’s demands and promises to get them a puppy while Dewey is off at Hogwarts

And that’s it for how it would begin! Honestly, the length kinda got away from me, so next time (if it doesn’t get away from me again) we’ll talk about The First Meeting and Beyond! I hope you’ve enjoyed!

#ducktales #dt17 #hpdt au #harry potter crossover au #dewey duck #gosalyn mallard #drake mallard #launchpad mcquack #Magic and Mayhem

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makeste · 6 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 229: The Real Me

Previously on BnHA: Dabi fought a dude who could control ice. For like three pages. Then we cut to my boy Twice, who had located an unconscious Toga (who as you recall had her blood blown up a couple chapters back, so yeah) and was understandably freaking out about how to get her some help. To make a long and somewhat confusing story short, you know that long-haired guy who hacked Giran’s phone? Turns out he has the power to create human puppets or some shit, and he created a bunch of Twice duplicates and sent them to capture the real Twice (who you might also recall has some traumatic history involving clones of himself). Seems they want to use Twice’s quirk to create a backup clone of Re-Destro, just in case history repeats himself and he ends up kicking the bucket like his great-great granddad. Wouldn’t that be sad. Re-Destro getting murdered. Wouldn’t that just be a darn shame. Anyways so let’s see where this leads.

Today on BnHA: The Villain Flashback Arc continues with today’s installment featuring, you guessed it, more villain flashbacks! We learn more about our little buddy Twice who was apparently orphaned as a young teen and subsequently found himself alone in a cold and uncaring world. Honestly you guys, after reading this I’m amazed that he’s still as nice of a guy as he is. Anyway, so he used his quirk to clone himself because he was lonely, and the clones and him engaged in a petty crime spree or two, and then somehow or other it all led to the whole murderfest that fucked up his head so badly. Back in the present, a struggling Jin tries to escape and help Toga, so Skeptic orders his puppets to break Jin’s arms. They do so, but this has a curious side-effect that Skeptic may not have been expecting. Namely, that having that much damage dealt to him makes Twice realize that he definitely is not one of his clones, and is in fact the real deal. This appears to at least temporarily cure his split personality woes, and the chapter ends with him creating about a dozen duplicates to go fuck up the Liberation Army’s day. Hell yes.

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity immediately afterward, but aside from that there are no changes.)

hey guys, sorry I’ve been inactive all week; I’ve been sick and haven’t really had much energy. I still am sick, but I appear to have reached the stage of exhaustion where I’m all “eh, fuck it, yeah sure whatever” where it’s ironically easy to motivate myself to do stuff because I have no willpower to resist, lol

so anyway. we’re apparently not missing a beat, picking up right where we left off last week with Twice’s mask being pulled off by one of the gorilla puppets

wow and they’re just like. flinging him aside

DON’T FLING MY BOY NO!! AND GET AWAY FROM TOGA

AHHHH

shit, how creepy is that? are they cold because they’re just ~puppets~ and not actually real, living people? what a disturbing touch

now we’re cutting back to Skeptic, who’s giving the puppets orders and addressing them as various letters of the alphabet. how can he tell them the fuck apart

meanwhile Giran’s asking what they’re doing to his pal. ;_; Giran you continue to be the best

and Re-Destro’s forcibly directing his attention elsewhere, but he’s also answering his question, strangely enough

that’s a lot of detail to be giving the guy when you could have just smacked him and told him to shut up. these villains are so confusing

but I guess they’re just telling him all this to taunt him more, because now Skeptic is bragging that he learned about Jin’s psychological disorder from Giran’s client data

hey btw I don’t think I’ve said this yet, but fuck this guy so hard for taking advantage of Twice’s trauma and using it against him. what a shocker, the Meta Liberation Army of dickheads pulls another dickhead move. these guys are so classy

oh my fucking god you guys Giran is getting hotter with each fucking chapter though fffffffff

if you’d told me a month ago that this dude would be nipping at Aizawa and All Might’s heels for the title of BnHA’s most eligible bachelor I would have called you a liar and a thief, yet here we are. good lord

that said, I appreciate that he’s thinking about how hard it’ll be on poor Twice, but they also just said they’d kill Toga as well, so I imagine that part of it would be pretty hard on her too. just saying

SDLFKSDLFHK SPEAKING OF

FUCK ME YOU GUYS I ALMOST LEAPED TO MY FUCKING FEET, WHAT THE FUCK. DON’T TELL ME THEY’RE GOING TO SNAP HER NECK. HOLY SHIT

SOMEONE BETTER SAVE HER OR I’M GOING TO FLY OUT TO JAPAN AND GIVE HORIKOSHI MY STUPID COLD. THAT’LL SHOW THAT BASTARD. HAVE SOME BRONCHITIS YOU PIECE OF SHIT

AND TWICE IS WATCHING ALL PANICKED AND SCREAMING THAT HE’S GOING TO KILL HER

AT FIRST I WAS CONFUSED AND WAS LIKE, DOES HE BLAME HIMSELF FOR GETTING HER IN THIS SITUATION? BUT THEN I REMEMBERED THE CLONES AND THAT YEAH IT’S LITERALLY HIM KILLING HER THOUGH OMGGGGG

AHHH HE’S SO CONFUSED THIS IS SO CONFUSING

I’M TOO SICK TO DEAL WITH TWICE’S EXISTENTIAL CRISIS YOU GUYS, IT’S REALLY FREAKING ME OUT, HELP. THE FUCKING PANELS ARE ALL WOBBLY-LINED AND THEY KEEP ZOOMING IN ON HIS FACE AND SHOWING HIM ALL BUG-EYED SCREAMING “WHO AM I” OVER AND OVER AGAIN OH GOD

OH SHIT!?!?

ACTUAL TWICE FLASHBACKS OH SHIT?! I was not expecting this oh snap. I am so into this

anyway, so he’s thinking -- with surprising coherence -- that because of his rough appearance, people were always afraid of him growing up

but also, what was that part about him not having a family? so he was an orphan then?? Horikoshi you are aware that I already love Twice and am emotionally attached to him, yes? but like if you want to hit me with even more feels and fuck me up some more then be my guest I suppose?

anyway so whoever he’s talking to here says Jin, who is apparently sixteen here, evidently hit some dude with his motorcycle by accident. oh shit

and baby!Jin says the guy jumped out in front of him and he was obeying the speed limit and everything

and the man he’s talking to seems vaguely sympathetic but says that regardless, it’s usually the victim who ends up winning these cases, and that Jin may end up with a criminal record. “but don’t let it get to you.” oh, sure. yeah, let’s just look on the bright side here

he says that no matter how many times you stumble in life, you can always start over

well shit is it any wonder this kid ended up going the villain route and making a bunch of clones of himself to live his best life? I mean jeez, he had absolutely no one on his side and was slapped with a criminal record when he was only sixteen. that shit is rough

oh fuck me and it just keeps getting worse

well that’s nice. so make that homeless with a criminal record, then. jesus christ he was still just a kid

so apparently his parents died in a villain attack when he was in middle school, and he had no relatives. I guess the state didn’t give a fuck either, damn

I find it extraordinarily easy to empathize with, actually! that’s one of the things that makes you such a great character!

so I guess he originally ended up making a clone of himself just because he was lonely. okay wow. not only does Twice continue to be the most likable villain in the series, he’s working his way up there as one of the most likable and relatably human characters, period

look at this shit! he’s just a guy who had a run of bad luck and tried his best to cope with it in whatever ways he could. there’s nothing villainous about him, he was just someone whom nobody wanted. he had his entire future stolen out from under him in the blink of an eye and had nowhere else to turn. he just wanted some friends for fuck’s sake

and so then he and his merry band committed a bunch of petty crimes. but they just needed some cash so they could live! like, all he wanted to do was just chill out and be happy. I got your back Twice. it’s not your fault

and then the flashback just kind of cuts to him tied to the chair in the aftermath of the clone hunger games. so I guess that’s all the backstory we’re getting as far as that goes. ngl I would have really liked to see just a bit more of the lead-up to that specific event. he’s such a nice guy that it’s a bit hard to picture him just suddenly going “RAWR I’M GONNA MURDER ALL Y’ALL.” but what I’m thinking is that all of the tragedy in his past contributed to him forming his violent alter ego personality, and that one of the clones must have just snapped one day and the rest is history

anyway so now we’re cutting to his first meeting with my new boyfriend Giran

ah okay, so he’s scared because if he actually is one of the clones then just a tiny bit of damage would be enough to finally do him in

btw Giran, possibly the one good thing Re-Destro and his buds did was getting rid of that scarf and sunglasses though bud. if you decide to change up your look after all of this, I’m not going to complain. there’s a reason I thought you were just some douchebag this whole time. obviously I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge you, I realize that now of course

but seriously Giran who wears sunglasses at night indoors. I mean, idk, maybe you get migraines or something. but if not I’m just saying

regardless, questionable fashion choices aside, Giran is actually a super nice guy, a mensch if you will, and he is now casually changing Twice’s entire life in the span of a few sentences. awww

how the fuck were you planning on smoking that cigarette while wearing a paper bag over your face. ??

also, Giran on this page kinda reminds me of Sanji, if Sanji was, like, a beatnik about to throw down on open mic poetry night

anyway so that’s the end of our happy flashback, and now we’re back in the present with Twice resuming his freakout!

but in spite of his mental struggles, he’s shaking the puppet clones off and trying to dash toward Toga again omg!

up in his little tower Skeptic seems fairly surprised

in related news, fuck this guy so much. also he’s using one of his puppets as a chair, which is one of the creepiest touches Horikoshi has put in this manga to date. but also they mentioned last week that Skeptic makes the puppets out of any human-sized materials that happen to be lying around, so I kind of wonder if maybe this dude originally was a chair. the mysteries of BnHA

moving on though, yeah, Twice and Toga really do have a strong bond though, don’t they? their chemistry is as beautiful as it is strange

oh shit but they really did hit him though

FUCK YOU F AND G

FFFFF SON OF A BITCH

DLASFKJLKJ PLEASE DON’T YOU FUCKING PSYCHOPATH, I CAN’T WAIT FOR YOU TO FUCKING DIE YOU ASSHOLE!!!

motherfucker! and we just established that he’s afraid that a broken bone will be enough to kill him if it turns out he really is a clone!

-- holy shit, but. on the other hand, if it doesn’t kill him though, that just might be enough to cure him of that particular fear once and for all. oh shit, unexpected plot twist

though in this particular situation it probably won’t make much of a difference how sane he is if he’s still got two broken arms though fuuuuuuuck

anyway... gotta click to the next page... even though I really don’t want to, sob

aaaaaaaand they’ve broken them. well shit. at least it wasn’t graphic. he’s just hunching forward and screaming and his arms are facing the wrong way, fuck

and now Skeptic is all “your legs are next,” and uh, can Twice actually hear him, though?? like, what? did I miss something here? is he piping his voice in through the shed’s convenient sound system or something?

anyway he’s telling Twice not to struggle anymore, and Twice is muttering to himself all darkly about how much that hurt

and apparently Toga’s regained consciousness now!!

wow Skeptic, okay sure, go ahead and keep talking about how you’re about to kill Toga in front of his eyes. just keep on digging yourself deeper. it’s like he doesn’t realize there’s only one page left in the chapter and things are just about reaching a tipping point and our heroes (?! I mean they are, though, for this arc at any rate) have had just about enough of his bullshit

lol I can’t take the tension omg

please do something badass please do something badass please d --

oh snap

Twiiiiiiice ;_; so it’s like I thought. they unexpectedly cured you of your identity crisis angst

anyway I guess this chapter is a longer one than usual because it’s page 15 now and we’re still going! so I will now resume my “please do something badass” chant. c’mon Twice. kick some assssssss

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS

THIS TIME I REALLY DID LEAP OUT OF MY CHAIR OMG. BOIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

LMAO ARE ALL OF THEIR ARMS BROKEN TOO. FUCK IT, IT DOESN’T MATTER. DEKU HAS SPENT APPROXIMATELY HALF THE MANGA WITH BROKEN ARMS AND IT’S NEVER STOPPED HIM*

*forest angst aside. and anyways that all worked out in the end, so

“wounded heroes are the most dangerous.” well fuck. given that we’ve just seen an exhausted and delirious Shigaraki eradicate an entire wave of people, and a bloodied and wounded Toga straight up murder one of the Army’s leaders, I think it’s safe to say we can apply this statement to villains too. and I for one can’t wait how dangerous a wounded -- but now sane -- Twice can be. motherfucker how I am loving this glorious arc

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themaskedwriter · 6 years ago

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Stargazer.

Clues

Mutual pining and modern AU’s are my main things to write.

I enjoy constellations and they tend to be part of most of my stories in some way.

I try my hardest to leave a comment on all the stories that I read.

Summary: There’s a gala and your dear friend finally decides to do something about your crush – Nat decides to do the same for Bucky as well.

Pairing: Modern!Reader/Bucky Barnes

Warnings: None.

Word Count: ~2.3k

All Stark Industry employees are welcomed to this year’s fundraiser gala. The event will be held in […]. Please remember to wear your finest and hide your face so the world will never find you!

–Anthony and Virginia Stark.

—-

“Did you see the email?”

“Yeah, it was massive email blast. I am sure everyone saw it.”

“You know that’s not what I mean, James.”

“No, I really don’t know what you mean, Nat.”

—-

“So, do you plan on going?”

You frown at the question, giving the email one more glance before turning up to see Sam grinning at you as he took another sip of his coffee. The twinkle in his eye seemed permanent, but you didn’t want to deal with it, especially with the lack of sleep in the past 48 hours.

“I don’t know, Sam,” you grumble before pointing at the giant machine that was taking up most of the space in your shared lab with one Bruce Banner, though he had left and hopefully knocked out after his own sleepless four-day run, “I’m sort of trying to make this giant machine work before the next Expo.”

It was the completely truth – you and Bruce had been just one team that was working on a functioning engine for the future Stark Car, but like everyone else you weren’t having any progress. It was the anniversary of the Stark Expo and one Mr. Stark felt it was necessary to finally show some progress and what his father had shown years ago, though there hadn’t much progress on the project since them.

“And since it is going to be one of the main attractions,” Sam starts off, playing advocate with you like always,”You should consider putting some dedication to that—mppf!”

Sam lets out a huff an air as you see a certain brunette and redhead walk across your little workspace, heads together and ignoring the rest of the world around them as you let out a little lovesick sigh.

“You can’t seriously think that I could compete against that,” you murmur in utter defeat, while staring at Sam for a brief second. You let out a huff of air in annoyance before getting up and going to see what you are going to get for lunch before deciding to pass out in one of the break rooms within the building.

You just weren’t aware that there were two pairs of eyes watching.

—–

“They aren’t going to ask each other out, are they?”

“I doubt it.”

“I guess it’s up to us then!”

—–

You end up sleep straight through the end of the work day after lunch, but instead of going straight back to work the aches of flooding your back and neck and realizing that you haven’t changed in a couple of days makes Sam send you back home before you can think of doing anything else. You end up walking towards the subway station, when you notice him – sitting outside of a Starbucks with a drink and computer in front of him, confused but determined about whatever he was doing at the moment.

You and one James Buchanan Barnes had entered in the same department around the same time and while you struggled here and there with your work alongside Bruce Banner, James always seemed to some new idea that him and Dr. Romanoff were working on.

It was lovely and frustrating to see, though you were sure somewhere along the line you–

A familiar redhead soon joins him and your heart deflates for a second. You let out sigh before taking the stairs down and away from such a sight.

—–

“Don’t worry everything will be under Stark’s credit card.”

“How the hell did you do that?”

“He owned me. Now, time to play fairy godmother to these numbskulls.”

—–

In the following weeks after the announcement of the gala, Sam doesn’t ask you once more if you are going or not, though you hear through the grapevine that both James and Natasha are, and for a brief second every once and awhile you get lost in your little daydream of being able to dance with the man – though you knew it was a faraway dream since you didn’t know how to dance or even approach him if he wasn’t already dating the beautiful genius.

“Hurry!” Dr. Banner’s yell pulls out out of your depressing thoughts, as he motions you to get in front of the little console you had set up outside to the control the car.

The little thing stutters once then twice, as Brice screams from his seat in the car, while motioning at you with awkward hand signals what you should be doing next. The engine pops a little bit a smoke before stabilizing completely and hovering in midair.

You and Bruce both scream in delight, as a small group starts to gather around the glass doors of our your lab with wide eyes and clapping all around. You swear that you see a flash a blue from the sweater that James had decide to wear today, but you push aside at the sound of Mr. Stark’s exclamation over the sight that his father could never accomplish.

By the end of the day, whether you like it or not you and Dr. Banner are both gala bound.

—–

Once Sam hears the news, he can’t stop grinning as he makes you go last minute to get a dress because nothing in your closet will do for such an event, he had said so himself. Thus, you spend most of the weekend being dragged around by your best friend to all the high-end dress places in New York, though you aren’t quite sure who is buying and Sam just smiles and tell you not to worry.

“Well, you’re going to turn heads with that one,” Sam finally remarks with a laugh as he makes you twirl once then twice.

You end up glancing in the mirror once more with a bright smile and a little laugh, because even though you might be going alone and your crush was with someone else – you were drink and eat all you could grab your hands on.

However, before ending the shopping spree – Sam has one more trip to make with you on the other side of Brooklyn with that large shit-eating grin of his that sends you in high alert. You grab your bags a bit tighter than before as you stop in front of a little red-brick building with the word PSYCHIC painted on the glass.

You frown, unsure what is going on, as Sam laughs.

“What are we doing here?” you can’t help but ask as you wait for someone to appear after Sam had rung the bell on top of the glass table that is filled with candles, chalks, various stones and a little tree that seems to be greeting anyone that comes in. It bothers you just a little, but whatever Sam is planning bothers you even more.

“I know you need a confidence boost,” Sam starts explaining, as you look at him,”I usually come here when I need something of the sort.”

Your eyebrows shot up for a second at the sound of his awkward laugh and sudden confession, before smiling: “Does it work?”

“It really depends.” he winks at you, as the psychic calling herself Wanda finally comes out to greet Sam and start whatever she has planned for you. ‘

However, the strangest thing out of the hour-long session is when she smiles at you and declares: You’ll meet a fish by a fountain soon.

You aren’t quite so sure where you are supposed to do with that piece of information.

—–

“She’s actually going. So, what are you going to do about it, Romeo?”

“I really don’t know, Nat.” —–

The Stark Expo Anniversary Gala is nothing short of beautiful with it being set up near the waterfront where Howard Stark had started his humble beginning and was now home to Stark Industries’ Brooklyn base. High ceiling, bright lights with people dressed to the nines caused you to pause at the entrance for a moment, before you feel someone push you just a bit.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going,” the voice behind you states and you swear you stop to seeing a nervous smiling James, though completely different from his loose hair, sweaters, and lab coat that you have seen him in most of the time.

“It’s all right, I was just trying to prep myself,” you admit bashfully, starting at anything but the man in the dark blue suit that match his eyes with slicked back and a killer smile.

Damn, Romanoff was a lucky woman.

“Do you,” his voice breaks for a second, “Do you need someone to escort you inside? If you want to?”

You have to pause for a moment and actually think about what he is saying, your mouth gaping slightly as you kill the both of you just a bit with your silence, as you end up giving him a small smile.

“Yes, it would help a lot actually,” you end up admitting and you swear his smile grows just a bit more as he places his arm in front of you to hold it.

“Anything for you,” James states with a twinkle in his eyes, as you wrap your arm around his arm and head inside.

In your excitement, you don’t notice the stars and city lights twinkling on a certain surface.

—–

However, as quickly as you get James to yourself for a brief moment, you are pushed as quickly away as Mr. Stark makes you do rounds with Dr. Banner to all the people that are excited to see what you two had in store. You don’t see Sam anywhere throughout the whole night, though he had promised that he would be there, though you were finding yourself meeting a certain set of blue eyes when you looked around.

You would smile and James would sometimes smile or laugh, only for you to turn back more bashful than before. Dr. Romanoff wasn’t in the gala either, so you weren’t sure how to feel deep down about the attention you were getting from him tonight.

And as the demonstrations and speeches moved the evening, you eventually found yourself in front of everyone trying to explain the success of the car and paying special tribute to Back to the Future with the “Science Bros” (as the media liked to call them) taking the reins when it becomes too much. The bright lights and millions questions became too much after everything was said and done, as you found yourself sitting outside besides the foundation and taking deep breaths in order to calm down.

“Hey, hey,” that voice that has been haunting you all night decides to show up once more as you feel a hand over yours and rubbing calm and easy circles on top of it, “Take a deep breathe and count. Only pay attention to my voice.”

You let out a little whimper, it had been the thing that you had been avoiding since meeting him during the employee orientation all those years ago, but here he was playing with your heart when all you wanted to do at the moment was disappear regardless of a successful showing.

“You’re just making it worse,” you say in shaky breath as he stops moving. You look at him with the best glare that you can muster, as there is nothing but question in those pretty blues of his, “You shouldn’t do all this if you’re already dating someone else. It’ll give someone the wrong idea.”

“I–” he stutters a bit unsure, “Who am I dating?”

“Dr. Romanoff,” you exclaim pulling your hand away from his and you try to ignore that brief hurt in his eyes, “I know that she isn’t here, but you shouldn’t–”

James gives out a laugh, which angers just a bit more as you get up ready to head back inside before getting your heart bruised any further. However, he pulls you back as your face to face.

“I’m not dating not, sweetheart,” your eyes widen at his statement as it appears that there is a switch that goes off in him. James isn’t shy anymore as he leans in a bit more into your personal space. A crooked but rueful smile on his face, as he places one hand on your hip and the other on your cheek.

“If fact, she’s always getting on my case about asking someone out,” he keeps going as you stare at him with wide eyes, as he also states that Natasha never stopped bothering him about his crush – like Sam did with you.

“W-who do you like?” you let out in one breathe, angry slowly giving away to confusion and anticipation as his thumb grazes your cheek softly.

“I thought it had been obvious that I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off of you all night,” he breathes out, he leans in a bit more. You let out a sound like a wounded animal at this revelation that makes him laugh just a bit.

“And if I said the feeling was mutual?” you state, as he lets out a small, delirious chuckle.

“Then, I’ve gotta make up for lost time and take share a dance with you,” James grins as you nod in sudden enthusiasm, “And maybe to a date later on.”

“Yes, yes to both,” you let out your own giggle before you lean in to kiss on the cheek – an interlude to all that you had planned now that your feelings were set free as he guides you back into the building to share the rest of the night, the foundation and loneliness you had felt for such a long time slowly being forgotten.

James smiles and you realize that the feeling is mutual as you think of Wanda’s words for a brief moment, while staring at the dark sky above for such a second before looking at the star in front of you.

You’ll meet a fish by a fountain soon.

It’s much later on that you come to find out that James is actually a Pieces.

#fic

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strikeoutslugger · 7 years ago

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Junpei’s Group Date

That’s right folks. This’s gonna happen! It’s just a little event for those interested in having some fun on the dash~ This is a Group Date event open to any character, canon or OC, who is from the Persona franchise or has a Persona verse (in the case of crossovers or OCs). Here’s how it’s gonna go down.

Junpei Iori’s feelin’ pretty good lately and has organized a group date to AEON LakeTown, one of the largest, most eco-friendly shopping centers in all of Japan. There’s restaurants, shops, relaxation areas, a cinema complex and more! If you’re interested in seeing the vast size of this place, and every possible store it has, you can go to the (English) website here. Plan ahead. Or if you’ve got trouble coming up with ideas, feel free to ask. Honestly, I’m even surprised Junpei had enough foresight to pick such an awesome place beforehand...

Each participant is going to be paired up (whether through special request or RNG) with another person to go out on a ‘date’. It is your responsibility as muns to make a thread or two regarding interactions on your date. Use the mall to your advantage. Go on a shopping spree, maybe have something to eat or watch a film. There’s a ton of things for you to do, and communication between your partner is key.

Throughout the event, there’ll also be a Discord ‘server’ that may serve as a group chat for all participants. Every muse is going to know who each person is paired with, so feel free to tease, pry or otherwise comment on that. The Discord server is not mandatory to join, and may be deleted once the event is over, but it just helps with adding the ‘group’ part to the group date, since every muse is going to be at the mall at the same time. It’s natural to want to pair up with others. Maybe you want a group date within a group date and have two couples go catch a flick at the same time? It’s up to you!

The event’s going to (most likely) occur next week from Friday April 13th (*insert scary music here*) to Monday April 16th, just so people can have adequate time in starting threads and developing them just a little bit. There’s nothing saying you can’t carry your threads on afterwards, just, y’know... Try to start something with your partner in the timeframe given. We all wanna have fun but we get having a busy schedule.

Though I posted an interest check long ago, this is the official post to like if you definitely want to participate in this event. If you like this post, please also send me an inbox including: Your character’s name, your timezone (just in case), and your Discord name only if you are wanting to join the temporary group chat for the event. In addition, if you and another mun would like to pair your muses up together for the group date, you may also state this in your ask, but BOTH muns need to list the other as their special partner. Otherwise I’m leaving it up to RNG.

Here’s a couple reminders on rules and functionality:

Dates aren’t necessarily all romantic. You can have romantic dates yeah, but platonic outings are fun too. Or even two enemies being ‘forced’ to have fun together? Don’t assume that because you get paired together you need to do something romantic or ‘shippy’. You don’t.

Please communicate with one another! There’s so many things you can do in a mall like that. Seriously, there’s a ton of things to do! If you’re having trouble with coming up with ideas, another participant will be glad to help you, myself included.

As far as duplicates go, unless your character specifically has a ‘duplicate’ verse, they’re going to be called by their name, and we are just going to accept that there are multiple. We can discuss specifics once we actually have the full list of people participating.

If you notice that you have beef with any of the other participants, you don’t have to explain why. Just a head’s up is cool and I’ll ‘rig the system’ so that you and that person are not paired up for whatever reason. I get it. We just want everybody to be comfortable.

Otherwise, have fun! As long as you start your thread within the timeframe, you’re good to go for however long you want.

I’m limiting this to one muse per person though. So pick the muse you really want to join in with! We’ll be accepting up until the Thursday before the actual ‘event’ or Thursday April 12th as the final day of acceptances. I look forward to the nonsense, teasing and buffoonery. And maybe someone (hopefully Junpei, but we all know how bad he is with this) will find love~

Let’s have those home-run dates y’all!

#[take me out: group date]#//yes this is happening #persona rp #/bolded important stuff #long post

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rosemakh · 3 years ago

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A Burden's Recompense

[Author’s note: I wrote this in 2020. It’s loosely based on true events, as recounted by a friend of mine. This story is a tragic family drama. It deals with domestic abuse, and other things that might trigger some readers (like most of my stories!)]

My mother looked me dead in the eyes, "You ruined my life by being born."

That's what she said to me.

I was seven years old. And I knew she was right.

My mother's life was hard from the beginning. Born to abusive parents, she was beaten and starved for as long as she could remember. When she was around six years old, her mother (my grandmother) forced her to tend to the farm animals before school every day, alone. That gave my grandmother more time to lie in bed, watching TV and drinking. When my grandmother's lovers visited, she'd lock my mother in the closet so she couldn't reveal their identities to her father. When her father got home from work, he'd blame my mother for every trouble in his life and beat her with a leather belt until he felt better.

Eventually, she passed that evil legacy onto me.

I'd seen the pictures. I knew my mother used to be a happy person. She smiled from the frames of faded Polaroids in our family albums. Hair flipped out in a "Farrah Fawcett" style, she posed playfully in corduroy bell-bottoms. Her eyes twinkled with the promise of a bright future.

But my birth wrecked her body. She nearly died bringing me into this world. My father abandoned her because I wasn't a son. She became a casualty of age-old traditions. Homeless and unable to work, she took me to stay at her mother's for the first year of my life. Resting her ravaged body between baby care and housework, my mother eventually became well enough to work again. Then a new problem loomed before her: lack of education.

Back when my mother had turned 13, my grandmother introduced her to my father. Eventually, she convinced my mother that my father was a good man that would take care of her. So, as soon as she turned 18, my mother got her GED, quit school, and married my father. She truly believed that her fairytale had come true. In reality, my father had desired my mother for years. He was in his 30's when they first met. He had some kind of sick arrangement with my grandmother involving money and land. For her part, my grandmother had spent years talking my mother into loving him. It was a messed-up situation.

So, when I was around 18 months old, my mother entered the workforce with determination. She planned to work her way up in a fast food place and maybe own a location of her own one day. Daycare cost too much, so she swallowed her pride and went on government assistance. She was trying desperately to give me a normal life by sacrificing hers.

The years dragged on and promotions came. She fought her way to Assistant Manager, then bumped her head on a glass ceiling. A new franchisee had bought the location and refused my mother further promotions, citing poor performance. But all the other employees knew she was just jealous of my mother's youth and beauty.

One day, when I was five, my mother picked me up from school early. She'd been crying. Her eyes were puffy and red. She smiled at me weakly, "We're going to the beach." I climbed into the rusty car and away we went.

For my mother and me, the beach was the perfect place to hang out. It was beautiful, peaceful, and didn't cost a thing. It was early February and the wind ripped through my Rainbow Brite jacket like an ice knife. My mother was cold too, but she sat on the sand in her work uniform and stared into the clear sky. The wind threw her yellow hair around like dancing pasta. My own auburn hair whipped my face but I could see well enough to navigate around begging gulls to collect seashells from the wet sand. I chose the prettiest ones and carefully placed them in a plastic bucket. I just knew my mother would cheer up when she saw them! When the important job was done, I proudly showed them to her. She smiled through tears, then pulled me close. In the waning afternoon sun, we admired them together, cuddled up against the wind.

The next day was a Friday. She should have been working but she picked me up from school early again. She told me she'd been fired. Apparently, the franchisee fired her because her husband thought my mother was pretty.

My mother frantically looked for another job and in two weeks, she was the official cleaning lady for three of the local phone company's switch stations. It was hard work. She pushed heavy buffing machines and cleaning carts and moved huge spools of cable all by herself. Her shift started after school, so I'd always go with her. I loved it! Using a huge cable spool as a table, I'd color or draw in a room filled with tall cages and blinking switchboards. The whole building was filled with metal boxes, flashing lights, and bundled wires. It was the coolest place I'd ever seen. But it wasn't cool for my mother. Her frail body, already damaged by my birth and years of farm work, couldn't stand the abuse. Within a year, she was back in the hospital, being prepped for hernia surgery.

The phone company promised she'd still have her job when she recovered. But six weeks later, when she arrived to resume work, she was flatly told that she'd been replaced by a professional cleaning crew. At the age of six, I learned a valuable lesson from my mother's hard life: Always get it in writing.

It's impossible to predict what might break someone. Nobody can stay strong forever if their life is nothing but disappointment and pain. Losing that job was my mother's breaking point. It left a bad taste in her mouth and a sour look on her face. She went back on the job hunt. On the weekends, she dragged me from business to business as she applied to job after job. She walked into every place wearing that bitter expression. I was just a kid but even I knew nobody would hire that kind of face.

On that dreadful day, she'd been turned down by jobs all morning. Exhausted, she leaned on her car and cried. Her tears fell with weak sobs. I desperately wanted to help her but there was nothing I could do. I could only offer her a little moral support. I tugged on her shirt sleeve to get her attention but she yanked away violently. Then she bent at the waist, looked into my eyes, and said it with all the putrid resentment she'd held inside for years: "You ruined my life...I never should have had you. I was so stupid!"

She knelt in front of me, grabbed my tiny shoulders, and screamed, "Why did I think your father loved me! Why did I think he'd take care of me! Why didn't I have a boy!" She collapsed to the ground, nearly dragging me down with her. She doubled over and sobbed into the filthy pavement.

The next night, a neighbor girl came over to babysit me. A wrinkle-faced guy arrived in a red sports car and gave the babysitter some money. My mother gave the babysitter some instructions and jumped into the car with Mr. Wrinkle-face. They sped away, laughing. That was the first of many come-and-go boyfriends. She was on a dating spree, finally catching up on all the things she didn't get to do because of me. Sometimes she'd come home with her hair tangled and makeup smudged. Sometimes she'd stumble into the house and pass out in the hallway. Sometimes she wouldn't come home until the next morning and slur an apology to the exhausted neighbor girl as I dug into my second bowl of Circus Fun cereal.

One Saturday, my mother got up early and started cleaning, cooking, and making herself up. She was grinning from ear to ear and absolutely glowing. After breakfast, she helped me into my best dress and shoes and did my hair up in ribbons. We both looked so good, I just knew something wonderful was going to happen!

Around lunchtime, the doorbell rang. My mother practically flew to the door. She was like her old self again! She fluffed her hair and opened the door. A man stepped in and embraced her with a gravelly, "Hey, baby." He handed her a small bouquet of flowers which she took with a giggle. She'd always said cut flowers were a stupid gift because all they did was sit there and die. I wondered if those ones were different somehow.

He released my beaming mother and bent down to me. "So, here's the little rugrat!" he said through crooked, yellow teeth. His breath was stale and rank. I made a face at the smell, "I'm not a rugrat! I'm seven years old!" Behind him, my mother put a finger to her lips in a stop-talking-or-I'll-tear-you-up kind of way. I immediately shut up and stared at the floor. "Well aren't you cute," He patted my head, "Just like your mom!" She giggled again and wrapped one of her arms around his, "Come on, Chad. I'll make you a sandwich."

With Chad around, things were great for a little while. He got us cable TV, did house repairs, and took us to the movies every weekend. My mother even cooked dinner when he was there, instead of just heating some Chef Boyardee on the stove like the babysitter always did. He was at our house all the time, like a new family member. My mother loved having him around and he loved being around her. They enjoyed each other's "company" almost every night. I started sleeping with my head under my pillow because they were so noisy.

The abuse started gradually. Sly comments about her looks, weight, and housekeeping skills slowly turned into open insults. Eventually, he began belittling her in front of his friends and refusing to let her see her own friends.

They argued every night. Sometimes, I could hear things hitting the walls of their bedroom. They screamed at each other. In bed, I'd hide beneath the covers with my pillow over my head and cotton balls stuffed in my ears.

One night, I was woken up by a loud bang. Something big had slammed against their bedroom door. I peeked out from under my covers, plucked a cotton ball from one of my ears, and listened. A whimper floated on the air, weak and hollow. From within the whimper, my mother cried, "Please, don't baby, please--" She screamed. I felt the walls shake. I heard slapping sounds. More crying and pleading. From the safety of my bed, I got the picture: My mother was being beaten by the man she had taken into her home to take care of us. But if I weren't around, she wouldn't need him.

She was being beaten because of me.

From then on, he beat her a few nights each week and continued to criticize her every day. It made her a nervous wreck, so she stopped eating and lost a lot of weight. He'd ridicule her for being too skinny. "Put some meat on those bones or I'll leave ya!" He laughed while she massaged his feet after dinner one night.

After that, she never left the house without packing on makeup to cover the bruises.

A foul mixture of hatred and guilt had been growing inside me since the verbal abuse began. In the cartoonish world of my 7-year-old mind, I'd spent weeks mulling over ways to get rid of my mother's abuser. She wouldn't kick him out and he wouldn't leave. It was clear that murder was the only option but Bugs Bunny's anvils and ACME Brand TNT probably wouldn't cut it.

One warm Saturday night, fueled by my mother's pleas for mercy, I finally formed a brilliant little scheme.

On Sundays, Chad liked to relax in a hot bath after playing goodie-two-shoes at church all morning. That blessed day, my mother drew his bath, then went into the kitchen to make lunch. With him in the tub and my mother distracted, I sprang into action.

With the measured movements of a horror movie villain, I quickly opened the bathroom door, grabbed the hairdryer from the cabinet under the sink, plugged it in, turned it to High, and dropped it into the bathwater before Chad could react.

It was cool, like in the horror movies! He shook a lot. He screamed, just like he'd made my mother scream. When I remember the way he flopped around in the tub, it still makes me smile.

After he was sufficiently cooked, the circuit breaker finally tripped and the lights went out. Luckily, the Sunday sun streaming through the bathroom's frosted window provided plenty of light for me to bask in the glory of my work.

My mother appeared in the doorway, "Chad? Oh my god, Chad!" As she rushed to the tub, I unplugged the hairdryer, to be safe. She touched his neck to feel for a pulse but immediately drew back. I still wonder what his cooked skin felt like.

She covered her mouth and sobbed, "Chad," turning to me, she yelled, "Why?"

"He hurt you, mommy."

Her makeup was smeared in places, exposing some of her purple bruises. She shoved me hard against the vanity, "Why do you have to ruin everything!"

She ran to the phone in her bedroom and ten minutes later an ambulance came wailing down the street, followed by a police car with flashing blue lights. My mother burst from her room, the bruises on her face and neck gone again. As she dragged me down the hallway by my wrist, I marveled at the wonders of makeup.

She threw the front door open and stepped aside to let the cops in. Guns drawn, they quickly checked the house for danger, then signaled to the paramedics that it was safe to enter. One of the cops said, "Bathroom, down the hall!" as the paramedics rushed past us with a medical kit and gurney. I wanted to follow to see what they'd do with Chad's body but my mother's grip was firm.

My mother said to the older of the two cops, "You won't need your guns," she nodded in my direction, "My seven-year-old is the murderer."

***

The interrogation at the police station was fun. They separated my mother and me. A nice woman joined me in the interrogation room and we played with toys and talked and ate snacks. I got to tell her all about my brilliant murder plan. She seemed shocked, yet impressed. After a few hours, I'd managed to convince her that the plan was all mine and my mother hadn't put me up to it. I had saved my mother and I was proud. The lady left, assuring me she'd "Be right back."

I looked at my reflection in the big mirror on the wall. I was pretty messy from playing, so I smoothed my hair and straightened my Transformers shirt.

The woman returned, along with my mother, two policemen, and a gray-haired man in a long white coat. Everyone smiled at me, except my mother, who looked away, frowning. The nice lady crouched beside me and offered her hand, which I took. It was soft and warm.

"Would you like to go to a place where there are lots of other boys and girls?" she asked me.

"What kind of place?"

She smiled, "A special place for very special children. You'll get your own room and get to play and watch TV and learn all kinds of new things and make lots of friends. Doesn't that sound good?"

It did sound good but I wasn't so easily tricked. I knew I was going to an "institution." I'd known it the second that hairdryer hit the water.

The nice lady stood up, "Say goodbye to your mommy, honey. You probably won't see her for a little while."

I looked up at my mother, then walked to her and hugged her legs -- the only part of her I could reach. She didn't respond but continued to look into the distance with that sour expression I knew so well.

I've been in the institution for seven years now. It's been a lot of fun. I've made friends with interesting people and I've learned a lot.

Every year, I get evaluated so the doctors can see if the rehabilitation is working. Every year, they ask me the same question, and every year, I say the same thing: "I killed him. I'm proud of it. And if I had to make the choice again, I'd still do it."

I say it every year, and every year they seem surprised. Maybe they keep losing their notes.

This year, one of the younger doctors asked if I realized that if I felt sorry for killing that man, I could go back home, "Of course I realize that," I replied calmly, "But I don't feel sorry for it. Should I lie?"

"That kind of attitude will keep you here for a long time, miss," He scolded.

"That's fine with me."

At least in here, I'm no longer my mother's burden.

#short story #short fiction #Drama #family drama #dark story

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auskultu · 7 years ago

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Aretha—The True Professional

uncredited writer, Melody Maker, 4 May 1968

IN ONE of the attractive middle-class homes which line the long streets of north west Detroit, passers-by often notice an attractive young woman dusting and rearranging objets d'art in the living room.

If any of the pedestrians ever stopped to tie up a shoelace, they would catch the familiar sound of daytime TV soap operas. The situation is typical. The woman is not.

Her name is Aretha Franklin. She's the biggest phenomenon to stun the music industry since the Beatles. In the past twelve months, she has sold more records and made more money than any member of the recording fraternity. She arrives in England next week.

A year ago, Aretha lived in another house — close to the city's ghetto area — and another world. In those days, she dusted, watched soap operas, and dreamed of the day when things would change. It came. But it has not greatly altered her life.

A new home for manager-husband Ted White and herself, and some especially exquisite gowns for concerts. She has received seven gold records — each of which is worth at least 40,000 dollars in royalties — but she has yet to indulge in an uninhibited shopping spree.

She finds the fame and fortune difficult to comprehend, and to justify. "It's just a great feeling," she says, shyly and with humility.

Aretha is reserved, occasionally peeping out from behind her self-imposed curtain to laugh at some long forgotten event. She is down to earth. There is no pretence.

She finds her singing style difficult to categorise. One gets the impression that she has no desire to pass judgment on her proverbial pot of gold. It is there. It is intangible.

She pauses for several seconds before offering, "Well... it's a crazy mixture. I guess I'm just a singer with gospel influences."

She has no children. Nor does she plan any "for some considerable time." When the time comes, she'd like a small family. Despite the lack of young ones to complicate matters, she rarely goes out. Hardly ever sees movies. Only occasionally goes to concerts.

Her first big trip outside of the States started this week when she flew to Europe for concerts in Paris, Berlin, Stockholm, Amsterdam and later London.

"Boy, am I ever looking forward to that," she says in a rare burst of lengthy gaiety. "Everyone tells me that London is the fashion capital of the world, and I might even have a mini-shopping spree."

Those long years of waiting and hoping have prevented Aretha from taking her overdue fame for granted. She is basically insecure, never anticipating success until it actually happens. She forecast a dismal flop for her first hit, 'I Never Loved a Man'. It sold well over a million. Reliable sources predict her latest single, 'Ain't No Way', will be the biggest blues ballad since 'Drown in My Own Tears'. "I don't think so," she comments, with no phony modesty.

She believes that 'Respect', her best selling disc so far, most eloquently represents what she is saying; her message to the world.

Insecurity and shyness are temporarily forgotten when Aretha sits in front of her piano and the recording microphone.

"We spend a great deal of time deciding which songs we'll use," Aretha says. She admits to having the final say on what is, and what is not, released to that ever-waiting public. Her latest album, currently number two on the charts and entitled — most appropriately — Lady Soul which contains four single hits, required several weeks of constant studio work.

Not that Aretha is difficult to work with. Producer Jerry Wexler, who's cut some of the biggest names of the past decade, claims he has never produced a session with a more talented or co-operative artist.

She arrives at the studio with as many as one hundred songs, from which three or four will actually be electronically etched across the eight-track tape.

She's happy in her present bag, with plenty of reason. "I want to keep on making the sort of records which people can identify with. I'd also like to do some of the softer old numbers with strings and big orchestras. But we have to be very careful in the material we select... people associate strange things with songs."

She makes few concert appearances, and no club dates. Her last concert, a homecoming affair in Detroit pulled in 60,000 dollars at the door. She confesses to preferring home to the concert stage.

She was deeply shaken by the assassination of Martin Luther King. "I just can't find words to express how I feel. It is a great tragedy... underlined." Her father, the Rev. C. L. Franklin, had worked with the late Dr. King.

In her own quiet, softly-spoken way, Aretha Franklin has a way of getting things done to her complete satisfaction. Be it making great music, dusting a coffee table, or charming an interviewer.

She is a true professional, without the glossy veneer and the phony glamour. In short, Aretha really knows where it's at. As do the people who dig her inimitable sound.

#Aretha franklin #1968 #1960s #sixties #60s #soul #r&b #martin luther king #melody maker

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sunlitroom · 8 years ago

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Gotham 3.20 How The Riddler Got His Name

As I watched it, and some random observations here and there.

Previously on Gotham.

The Court of Owls plotline helpfully condensed in 5 seconds. Fake Bruce – and how can he save Gotham. He‘s apparently only part of the plan - with Jim the other part. Katherine asks if Frank knows what happens if Jim fails. Bruce and Selina seem pretty over due to Bruce not telling Selina about her mother’s plan. The pier. Ed doesn't love Oswald. He loved Isabella. Bang. Splash

As always, long post will be long - reaaally long. There are likely to be rambling digressions. Gobblepot may appear (although I welcome all shippers and non-shippers alike :)). There will be naked favouritism and naked not-favouritism. Broader comments at the end on plotlines and parallels and general direction.

We see a scientist enter a raised glass lab in which Ed is lurking with a gun

Greetings, professor

The professor wisely calls for help, but Ed assures him that no-one is coming.

Ed’s appearance is very clean and clinical – not a hair out of place. Sterile.

Who are you – asks the professor. Ed smiles.

Excellent question

Ed offers a riddle, but the professor gets it wrong. Ed is infuriated by this – control totally lost. He seems to catch how extreme his response is.

I apologise - I'm not myself these days

Ed ties him up and tries another riddle, which he again gets wrong. Ed is furious again, and says he expected more. I’m not really sure why he expects the head of chemistry to be good at wordplay – but whatever. Ed says that none of the others did well either. We see the penny drop for the professor that he might not make it out of this.

Others?

A writer, artist, philosopher. Intellectual and artistic stars

Ed killed them all, apparently. He continues.

My best friend recently said there was no me without him. I shot him and dumped him in the river.

The professor cringes – because if this man murdered his best friend, he knows there’s no hope for him. Ed goes on.

He was a sort of guide to me on my journey…..

(an aside – this is a theme for Ed in this episode. Oswald the person is reduced to only what is useful for Ed, in memory and in hallucination. In a way, it’s as much an assertion of control and ownership as painting a question mark over Oswald’s portrait, or holding on to trophies like Dougherty’s badge, or Kristin’s glasses.)

…I know who I am professor. It’s how to be him that is eluding me. Ed is visibly agitated and frustrated. He offers another riddle – which the professor can’t answer.

Too bad, says Ed. He opens gas canisters and leaves, blowing the building up behind him as he goes.

Ed really is a selfish asshole. Artists and academics all squandered because they couldn’t answer his riddles. It’s maybe interesting to consider whether Ed – whose role was perhaps not reflective of his intellect – is likely to have resented figures who were recognised for their abilities.

Bruce recounting night of his parents’ death - except it's not Bruce, it's fake Bruce, who's been well rehearsed. Katherine is pleased.

Excellent, my dear - you truly are Bruce Wayne.

She phones Uncle Frank, and says that they are ready, adding.

I hope your nephew is amenable. Should he refuse - you know the rules.

Frank reassures her. She tells Bruce they are to proceed, and fills a biiig syringe.

Ed is reading a newspaper - Oswald missing, worst feared – a report on the murder of the chemistry professor.

Ed rubs his temples (we can assume running the city single-handed and going on a killing spree is pretty tiring) and pops a pill. His eyes go weird, and he turns to the sofa to see a hallucination of Oswald in a sodden suit. He snarls at him

What did I tell you about dripping on the couch?

It’s Oswald’s house, Ed. So belt up.

Os needles Ed over his hypocrisy, asking him how long he’ll present the public face of grief, when he actually killed his best friend. Ed is rattled – which suggests that although Ed might be using the hallucination of Oswald to serve his own needs, we’re still seeing some of the same stuff we saw eack when it was BadEd in the mirror – needling, provoking, mocking.

Oswald walks into the room and asks Ed about his extra-curricular activities, looking at a noticeboard with pictures of Ed’s recent victims.

HallucinationOswald mirrors Ed’s gestures as they look, because he's essentially just a projection of Ed.

Oswald recommends that Ed ditch the riddles. Ed reacts strongly. This is not an option

A good riddle reveals the asker – so someone who can answer can help him

He wants to find a guide to help him – because knowing who he is and how to be that person are two different things. Halluc-Os sneers.

I made myself Penguin when I killed Fish

He claims he didn’t need anyone’s help – and had no teacher.

(An aside- This also flags up areas where Ed’s understanding or knowledge of Oswald is flawed or incomplete. Fish told Oswald she created him when they met again – and Oswald did not dispute that. Either Oswald did not share that information, or Ed didn’t listen. I’d go for (A), since Ed paid attention to everything that helped him to read and manipulate Oswald)

Ed clicks his fingers. Maybe it’s not a teacher that he needs – but an enemy. Villains are defined by the men who seek to stop them, and he knows the perfect man (Freudian slip there from Ed – as discussed elsewhere with insights from @rhavewellyarnbag and @millicentcordelia - Jim is indeed the golden boy in Ed’s eyes)

Halluc-Os snaps to attention and steps in front of Ed as if to stop him

Please - do not say Jim Gordon

Jim says Jim’s name at the same time – and smiles maliciously at Oswald’s pained expression. Again – discussed elsewhere with @millicentcordelia and @rhavewellyarnbag – Ed knows that Oswald cares about Jim and tries to protect him, and so his hallucination of Oswald behaves accordingly. Mentally tormenting a hallucination of Oswald after he’s already messed horribly with his head and shot him is…. something else. Ed really does enjoy hurting people.

At GCPD, Lucius is talking over the recent string of murders with Harvey, who still appears to be acting captain. Harvey is dismissive, but Lucius is insistent.

And professor of mine died in that lab fire

Harvey pulls a face.

Bored down in the lab, Lucius?

Lucius visibly reigns in his frustration

Yes – but that’s not why you should look at this

Harvey says they cannot allocate resources to this (6 murders, Harvey – really?)

Lucius wants to call Jim, but Harvey refuses and says Jim needs rest.

A singing telegram arrives downstairs for Jim with a murder riddle from Ed. It’s a chess strategy, from which Lucius deduces he is going to kill again. I get a depressing flashback to season 2 of Twin Peaks and Windom Earle’s shenanigans.

A competitive chess game. Ed watches from a balcony. He’s tired and headachey – slapping his face to stay awake. They should have left the scene explaining Ed's exhaustion and drug use to combat it in – I think. The idea that Ed was not enjoying running the city anymore and was suffering physically adds more fuel to his decision to find his own way. Oswald appears again when he pops his pill. What the hell is he taking? Ed thank Oswald for coming. Oswald is sour.

Like I had a choice

Ed promises that it will be electrifying.

Oswald eats popcorn while Ed obnoxiously interrupts games by yelling suggestions from the balcony. Oswald tires of this.

Can we discuss why you're doing this?

Ed doesn’t like being questioned. Oswald smiles.

The problem with talking to projections of your psyche – and you of all people should know this – is that they know everything you know. Gordon can't help you (a slip by Ed– I don’t think Os ever refers to Jim by surname only). No-one can. You need to face the truth. (Again, this is pretty much BadEd territory – undermining, insulting)

Ed is distracted by the arrival of GCPD.

No Jim Gordon? Well then, who?

He smiles when he sees who - Harvey and Lucius

Oh - how interesting.

Ed flips the first switch, shocking a player – and enjoys the chaos that ensues – the hallucination forgotten.

Country Cabin That Looks Suspiciously Like The Place Maroni took Oswald

Jim wants to know why he's here. Is Uncle Frank going to explain disappearing when he was a kid? Or what happened between him and his dad?

Frank asks for trust. Jim knocks back a drink before answering.

You’re family - of course I trust you.

Somewhere, Selina feels the urge to smack Jim on the side of his head and give him a talking-to.

Frank asks Jim if he’s ever done something he thought was right at time, but would give his life to do over. Jim internally reviews every life event to date, up to and including his breakfast choices this morning.

Frank says that was what happened with Jim’s father. He loved his brother and Jim is his son. He wants to make things right.

Wayne Manor, where knife throwing lessons are in progress.

Alfred deliberately annoys Bruce as he throws to test his concentration. He thinks Bruce has something on his mind.

Miss Kyle, perhaps

Apparently, Selina let a note for him – asking for a meeting. Bruce refuses - Selina's avoided him for weeks, and it’ll take more than a note to have him running. I suppose Bruce is a child – so his lack of understanding is plausible – but Selina did have her mother, who abandoned her, come back into her life and immediately cynically try to scam her. I think she’s allowed to have some problems right now.

GCPD, where Lucius reviews evidence. There’s numbers on bottom of the chess pieces. They call the number they give them, and reach Ed, trying out a new gravelly voice. He tells Lucius it’s bad manners to intercept other people’s mail. Lucius asks why he killed all those people

I had no choice - they failed my test

He invites Lucius to solve clue – the next target is in the belly of beast. If he can solve the clue, then he’s one step closer to finding him.

We can see, in the background, that Ed has painted a question mark over Oswald's portrait

Out in the countryside, Jim and Uncle Frank are hunting. Jim misses. Frank commiserates – but Jim tells him it was deliberate, in order to test his gun. Frank makes disappointed noises, but Jim’s having none of it.

You tell me you’ve done terrible things, and then you bring me out here (Good instincts, Jim. Isolated cabins are murdery)

Franks asks if Jim’s heard old Gotham tales about the Court of Owls. Jim responds,

Pretend I haven't

Frank elaborates. They’re a secret society started by elite to maintain balance. (elites aren’t interested in balance, Frank – they’re interested in maintaining an unbalanced status-quo which perpetuates their power, but anyway).

However, time and power has corrupted the organisation, of which Jim’s father was, and Frank is, a member.

Jim handles his gun meaningfully.

Frank reassures him. The Court doesn't mean him harm. It has the highest regard for him, and wants him to become a member. Jim looks generally unhappy.

GCPD – where Lucius and Harvey interrogating a man. Harvey tells Lucius to rough him up, but Lucius doesn’t play that way – and says that ‘no-one is hitting anyone’.

Long story short – the man’s boss is called Mr Thirio – Greek for beast – so they can find the next clue.

Wayne Manor, in the kitchens.

Bruce asks Alfred what he’s making. It’s shepherd’s pie. Fuck – flee to the city, Bruce. Get in a fight. Get abducted. Visit Jeri. Visit Jerome. Shepherd’s pie tastes of precisely fuck all and never seems to come to an end.

Alfred tells how the recipe was given to him by an old ‘lady friend’ with whom he had a fling, but broke up over something silly. Bruce scoffs at the attempt to get his to see Selina. Alfred elaborates, though, and says that at least he and his ex got closure. Bruce should see Selina – if only for that. Bruce agrees, and Alfred says he’ll keep some pie warm. Even better. Dry shepherd’s pie.

GCPD.

Lucius tells Harvey that Thirio was not in his apartment. Harvey is not really listening, admiring himself in the mirror. He’s going to the academy graduations.

How do I look?

Is this what Gordon deals with?

Harvey thanks him, and then asks if he’s seen his badge

Oswald’s mansion, where Ed is being berated by his own psyche. Oswald rants at him. He showed him how to be Ed Nygma. He showed him how to run the underworld, hidden in plain sight.

(An aside. Ed fundamentally doesn't want that. He doesn’t want to be concealed in any way. He needs to be recognised – which is why his situation with Oswald was only ever temporary)

Oswald works on him some more. He says that Ed isn't sleeping, that he’s taking drugs and talking to his own hallucination. He’s screaming now, trying to undermine him.

You’re lost without me.

Ed tries to leave. However, his vision blurs and turns red, and suddenly hallucination Oswald is singing a torch song. This seems to enrage Ed. He doesn’t want a reminder of this aspect of Oswald. His hallucination is there to serve a specific purpose, and Ed – ultimately – had no use for this part of Oswald. Maybe – too – seeing a reminder of the fact that Oswald was an actual person with his own motivations and feelings kindles some guilt, because Ed hits the table and yells:

I admit that killing you killed part of me – but I will find a way forward and be reborn!

The hallucination yells after him, but is breaking down now, more obviously just a projection of Ed’s insecurities – talking about Oswald in the third person

Penguin saw you Ed - he made you. There’s no Ed Nygma without Penguin!

Maybe try taking just half of one of those pills, Ed?

GCPD – where Lee is examining the corpse. Lucius points out that Lee worked at Arkham, and asks for her insight – why would a killer do this? Lee replies that we all want answers to the same big questions. Who am I? Will anyone ever love me? Some people seek answers in a logical way….

While others stuff Harvey Bullock’s badge inside a dead body.

Lucius courteously thanks Lee before leaving, using her professional title.

At the academy, Harvey rehearses a bad speech. Ed sidles up to him. Harvey asks what the hell he’s doing there. Ed comments that – as GCPD seemingly can’t locate the mayor – he’s here to address the cadets on his behalf. Harvey bridles at the suggestion of Ed – a cop killer – addressing the cadets. Ed is irritated by this:

How is the view from the moral high ground, Harvey?

Harvey’s phone rings. It’s Lucius. Ed grins...

Must be about me

…and lurches forward to grab Harvey and – presumably – chloroform him.

Sitting on some stairs in the city, Bruce reads Selina’s note. He hears a fight and goes to see what’s happening.

I remember you - Bruce Wayne

It’s Sonny Gilzean, who asks if he has money, and makes to mug him.

Selina appears and tells him to back off

Bruce says he’s here to talk. Selina isn’t – she’s looking for Sonny – with whom she’s got business. Bruce proceeds to put his foot in it.

He’s a thief - you can't trust him.

Selina icily responds that she’s a thief too. Bruce tries to apologise.

Sorry – I should have told you I suspected your mother

Selina doesn’t want to hear it – but can’t quite manage to restrain a backhanded attempt to protect him.

Go home – you don't belong here

Bruce asks why she asked him here at all. Selina says she didn’t – and tells him not to come looking for her again.

Sonny says it’s too bad his girlfriend left.

I don't think she's my girlfriend

Me neither

Bruce takes more of a beating before rallying.

Graduation ceremony. Ed takes the stage and banters a little. Harvey’s all tied up. They all look dandy.

How do I look?

He riddles at them

Light as a feather- but no man can hold it long. What am I?

The audience of cadets mutters, and wonders if they can legally shoot him now or have to wait until after the ceremony.

Ed loses his temper and delivers the answer while rolling out gas canisters.

Your breath

He laughs, and leaves.

Meantime Lucius arrives and encounters another telegram. He talks to Ed on the phone

Foxy? How’d you know it was me?

Only one person refers to me as Foxy

(Oh dear – a special nickname. That sound in the distance is someone, somewhere, launching a ship. Ed helps the launch along by demanding Lucius’ undivided attention)

Come upstairs and play a game with me for the antidote. Come along, or Harvey and the cadets all die.

Lucius runs upstairs to find Harvey tied to a chair and perched on the banister. He asks if he’s OK. Ed removes Harvey’s gag to let him answer. Harvey tells him not to try to outsmart ‘this lunatic’ - cadets lives at stake.

Lucius ignores him.

Let’s begin.

Ed smiles widely.

Wonderful.

If Lucius can get just one, everyone lives. Lose – and they all die.

(To save my wrists, and because the riddles are giffed elsewhere – I’m not typing them all out in full)

Ed offers the first riddle. Lucius answers ‘love’ – but the answer was ‘loneliness’. Ed is enraged.

How do you not know that?

He cuts a rope. Harvey panics and pleads.

No – Nygma, no.

Another.

I’m a member of a group – but can never blend in

Lucius answers ‘snowflake’

Ed screams in rage

‘Individual’

Lucius remonstrates.

Snowflake is also a suitable answer.

Ed wants his answer – though. He becomes very agitated, and cuts another rope. Harvey is frightened, and pleads again.

I'm sorry - oh god

Ed is arguing with himself now. Oswald was right -he's was the only one. He wheels suddenly to point confront Lucius. No! It's just you - you aren’t a good enough enemy

Lucius stays calm, and listens to what Ed says – so when Ed starts his next riddle….

I feel your every move. I’m with you through birth, and I’ll see you rot

He’s able to interrupt, unsettling Ed. He keeps his tone controlled and soft. Curious, more than anything

What did you do Ed, what happened to Penguin?

Ed falters.

Did you kill him? You did, didn’t you?

Ed is repeating the riddle compulsively now – almost like it will calm him.

Lucius answers:

A reflection

Ed’s smile contains genuine joy

Correct

Ed walks away without enacting any of his revenge. He wants to be understood more than to kill

Unfortunately, the rope frays anyway – and Harvey is caught by Lucius before he can topple down the stairs.

Back in the city, Bruce's nose is bleeding. He stops at a convenient mirror in an alley – only to see his double appear behind him, which is still less scary than BOB.

You

Good to see you too

Bruce says his double sent the note – and notices that he’s dressed identically to him.

Yes - like looking into a mirror.

Bruce 2 lunges forward and plunges the syringe into Bruce’s neck

This is what I was made for - to be Bruce Wayne.

Back at the hunting lodge. Jim doesn’t want to believe what he’s hearing.

How could my father have been part of this?

Frank protests. At the time, they were proud to join - thought we were going to do good. He claims now, though, to be disenchanted. He despises them. Jim’s father saw through their lies earlier – but Frank didn’t listen until it was too late. The Court killed him.

Jim can’t hear this. He denies it - adamant. He was there. It was an accident. A drink driver.

I was in the wreck. I watched him die.

Oh Jim.

Frank says staging a crash is simple business for the Court.

Why now, Jim wants to know – 20 years later? Where have you been? Where were you when my mom and I needed you?

Franks said the Court sent him abroad to prove loyalty. Jim asks why he would prove loyalty to group that murdered his brother? Frank says he chose to live. Now, though - they want Jim to join. He wants Jim to help him succeed where others have failed. He wants to bring the Court down and return the rule of democracy and law to Gotham. Jim asks why he should believe him.

You have to believe in something

Wayne Manor kitchens. Alfred listens to a radio report of Ed’s exploits which tells people to look out for a man in a green suit. Should probably also mention cheekbones. Look out for a guy wearing a green suit, with cheekbones that could cut glass, probably having a conversation with himself.

Bruce 2 enters. Alfred asks how Selina was. Bruce 2 smarmily responds.

Selina Selina

Alfred smiles, and offers shepherd’s pie. Bruce says that sounds delicious. Alfred looks momentarily suspicious – because shepherd’s pie plainly isn’t delicious – and claiming it is means you’re definitely an evil doppelganger.

He masks his uncertainty quickly

Jolly good - won't be a mo.

A swat team invades Van Dahl mansion. Ed’s gone, though. We see the portrait again.

In the street. Lucius gets into his car. Ed pops up from the back seat.

Hello Foxy

Lucius seems unruffled. So - the antidote turned out to be grape juice, and the deadly toxin was knock-out gas.

Ed says the whole point was to play a game, not kill people. Lucius points out,

But you killed Penguin and Prof Dyson.

Ed frowns.

Have you always been Foxy?

Lucius says he’s not sure what he means. Ed elaborates.

All my life - I felt like someone was inside of me. Someone stronger and smarter, that people would fear. No one else saw that.

Lucius interrupts,

Except Penguin

Ed agrees – a moment of sadness on his face

Except Oswald.

But he killed Oswald because Oswald killed the woman he loved

Lucius asks if that’s what Ed thinks he’ll do now Oswald’s gone - fill that role - to be a reflection (‘a friend is, as it were, a second self’). Ed says no – though.

I know who I am. I know how to be him.

He smiles as he puts a gun to Lucius’ head – and thanks him for the part he played in that.

Lucius points out how reckless Ed’s actions are. He’s honestly worried and pitying, and tells Ed that any part of him that isn’t insane needs to listen to him.

You need help. Turn yourself in.

Ed’s smile fades.

My actions seem mad to you

Lucius nods.

To anyone

Ed swallows.

I - I killed the best friend I’ve ever had. My search for a teacher or enemy…that was just me trying to hold on to him for a little bit longer. (Interesting that Ed is able to reflect honestly when confronted with genuine, calm concern)

But now I know who am without him

So who are you now?

Come on, Foxy. I’m The Riddler.

He wallops Lucius on the head with his gun, and then leans back, laughing to himself.

Ed is at the pier with Oswald. Ed tells the hallucination that his friendship meant something to him. He cared about Oswald, and he misses him.

Oswald is sour

Gee. That almost makes up for being dead.

(An aside - Ed’s admission isn’t exactly surprising. I've said before that while Ed was extremely manipulative, and fostered dependency from Oswald - I honestly think that Ed - being utterly convinced of his own judgment above anyone else's - felt that this was fine, because he was acting in Oswald's own best interests. Oswald is the only friend Ed ever had, and that was meaningful to him.

As Oswald points out though - while it's nice that Ed gets his emotional closure, it doesn't make Oswald any less shot. In the same way, Ed’s retconning of Kristin's death into his 'becoming' doesn't make her any less strangled. In a way, it serves to make Ed more frightening. He can feel genuine love or friendship for someone, but he equally has the capacity to knowingly hurt that person, to frighten them, and to take their life from them. That he can then package it neatly into something that suits him psychologically just feels like one last violation, someone's personhood taken away, and their life considered only in terms of how it served Ed's needs.)

The hallucination points out that all GCPD is hunting him, and no one is going to be afraid of The Riddler.

Ed smiles. They will be. Kneeling at the edge, he tips the pills into the water. Looking round, he sees he is alone, and smiles. He bids Oswald goodbye before donning a bowler hat and striding away.

Ivy is misting lots of pot plants in a room which also contains a bed, which also contains one Oswald Cobblepot. Oswald is waking up

Well - looks who's alive.

Oswald asks who she is.

Ivy Pepper, stupid.

Confused, Oswald asks if they know each other. Ivy tells him she pulled him out of the river – and has been nursing him for weeks. It’s pretty boring – he sleeps a lot. She then frowns, noticing that Oswald looks strange. Like he’s going to puke. She asks if he’s OK. Oswald’s possibly confused at being rescued and nursed out of simple altruism for once, as opposed to being shot full of drugs and relentlessly manipulated.

Oswald smiles, and his jangly signature music kicks in.

I just remembered – there’s someone I need to kill

You go, sweetie.

At the miserable cabin. Jim brings back wood for the fire. He calls for his uncle, but he’s gone, leaving a family photograph with a message written on the back:

Help me honour his memory.

At the Court, Katherine is enquiring how things went. Frank says Jim’s interest is piqued, but convincing him will take time. Katherine says they don’t have time, and that the clone is in place. Bruce Wayne is waking up as they speak.

And he is. Bruce sees bright lights and wakes up in a cell, in weird woollen pyjamas. Going to the window, he looks out to an arctic looking landscape.

I apologise - I’m not myself these days.

This has always been the problem for Ed, who has struggled for as long as we’ve known him to have a coherent sense of self. Shot through with self-hatred, parts of his psyche splinter off and manifest as other people – usually berating him, mocking him for his failure to be a better self – this other, buried person he feels he’s supposed to be – that he sometimes glimpses in other people, like Lucius, or Jim.

Unsure of how to embody this better self – Ed looked for a guide. He thought that was Oswald, but Oswald failed him, and was mercilessly discarded. He thinks defining himself against an enemy might help – and who better than Jim Gordon? But Jim, hilariously, manages to thwart Ed simply by being absent.

So Ed’s left with Lucius – which is fortunate for him – because Jim’s approach would have involved much less in the way of warm, calm compassion, and more in the way of punching. Lucius is perhaps the first person to express genuine, disinterested concern for Ed. He listens, and doesn’t mock. Ed, in turn, credits Lucius with helping him see who he is. As we leave him this episode, he has a renewed purpose and sense of who he is.

Jim’s dead father has always loomed large, and many of Jim’s interactions with authority figures are informed by that relationship – with Jim seeking out father figures, but then almost immediately being disappointed by them, and acting out in response. I wonder whether – on some level – Jim had an inkling of something being not quite right?

Whether he did or not, the revelations about his father will shake Jim’s sense of identity, and force him to question himself and his ideas. Already there’s a fundamental shift. He’s no longer the boy who witnessed his father’s accidental death. He’s now the boy who saw him murdered.

Bruce isn’t himself right now because he’s at odds with Selina – who acts as a counterbalance to him in many ways. Whether he can retain his sense of self in the face of whatever training he seems to have been forcibly sent on remains to be seen.

Bruce 2, meanwhile, is exultant. A lifetime of experimentation and prodding, and he finally gets to ‘be’ Bruce.

Oswald wasn’t Oswald for much of the episode, because what we saw was a fake – a projection of Ed’s insecurities, conjured up to help him cope with sadness at the loss of a friend. However, the Oswald we saw at the end – grinning and out for revenge – seems to have regained a more firm grip on his sense of self.

General Observations

All-round enjoyable episode, I thought. Lucius is warm, thoughtful, curious, respectful, and intelligent – and great to watch. His interactions with Harvey and Lee offer something a little different. His scenes with Ed, though, were really the highlight. There’s a genuine connection there that will hopefully be developed more.

Butch, Barbara and Tabitha were conspicuous by their absence. All we can take from this is that Barbara has not made good on her promise to kill Ed – despite some weeks having passed – and that this is likely having an effect on that relationship.

Jim’s in a pretty vulnerable place right now. Still smarting – we assume – from the aftermath of the triangle of tedium, he’s now on very treacherous ground, being either guided or manipulated by an Uncle whom he resents for abandoning him after his father’s death.

Also dealing with parental abandonment twice over is Selina. She seems hard and uncaring right now – trying to go back to her old life like Bruce never existed – trying to protect herself.

An Ivy/Oswald friendship would be great. They’re both – as discussed elsewhere – perceived as odd outsiders, both (for different reasons) childlike adults. Oswald never forgets slights, but he never forgets a good turn either – and Ivy selflessly cared for him for weeks.

First confirmed non-sighting of Victor. I’m watching you, show.

Thoughts?

#Gotham commentary #how the riddler got his name #gotham 3:20

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cornerverse · 8 years ago

Text

The One Where Chloé Knows

Chloé finds out that Marinette is Ladybug, and ends up telling her more than she wanted to. Marinette offers a new idea: being nicer to people. ((One-sided Chlonette, eventual Chloix))

1, 2, 3, 4, now on Ao3

Chapter 5

It had been little more than a week. Chloé seemed to be doing fairly good. Okay, she was slipping up. A lot. But her mean comments were usually followed by a swear and an apology.

She was trying to interact more as well. When teachers had them pair up, she tried to do something other than snagging Sabrina or Adrien. First she went with Marinette, then Nathaniel. Alix asked her the next time.

It was easier to talk to them than she thought. She’d been paying so much attention to them under the context of ‘what can I use against them’, that she actually got to know them fairly well. Starting up a conversation about something they liked was simple, really. Although, they kept giving her surprised looks every time she brought up something they didn’t think she knew.

Still, even with some awkwardness, okay a lot of awkwardness, it was nice. While she was still upset at herself at the end of the day, she was in a better mood. There weren’t any arguments. She didn’t feel annoyed by time she got home. Chloé hadn’t even noticed until her dad brought it up, asking if something nice had happened.

She had wanted to do something over the weekend, but she had to go to some social functions with her dad on ‘Mayor Business’. It wasn’t a total loss. Alix was at one with her dad and her brother, since it had something to do with the Louvre. They didn’t get to talk too long before their respective parents dragged them away to talk to other important people, but it was nice to have someone during those boring events.

Chloé wanted to try more, since this weekend was free. After school ended on Thursday, she went to talk to Marinette again. She knew that Marinette knew everyone’s schedules so she could plan group things like Alix and Kim’s next contest. She’d even got up the courage to ask for Adrien’s schedule to make sure he could come too.

“Hello, Marinette,” she said.

“Hey Chloé!” Marinette greeted back.

“So, I was wondering what everyone was doing this weekend,” she said. “I mean, I don’t want to invite myself to things, but if someone doesn’t have anything planned, maybe I could invite them to something. Just to make some progress without, you know, having to stop and talk about math.”

“Off the top of my head,” she answered, “Kim and Max mentioned a weekend-long gaming tournament, so they’re out. Rose and Juleka were doing something saturday, I think a beach trip, and Nathaniel’s planning to spend the weekend practically camping at an art museum. Alya, Nino, Adrien and I are hanging out Saturday afternoon, but other than Adrien’s morning photoshoot, we’re all free. I have some sowing to catch up on Sunday though. I’m not sure if anyone else has any specific plans, I can ask around or look over the schedule when I get home.”

“Thanks!” she said.

“If I could suggest though,” she added, “try talking to Sabrina again. I know you haven’t stopped talking to her, but she doesn’t really have anyone else. She’s probably a bit lonely since she doesn’t have you around all the time.”

“I know I haven’t been a good friend to her at all, really,” she sighed. “I should talk to her about all this and try and make up for lost time.”

“Good luck!” she said.

Chloé wandered off, looking for Sabrina. She’d passed by most of their classmates before seeing a flash of orange hair heading through the library doors.

She followed, trying not to bump into anyone. Thankfully Sabrina had gone to a table instead of getting lost in the shelves. Chloé slid into the seat across from her.

“Hey,” Chloé greeted. “What are you doing this weekend?”

“Usually I’d be with you,” Sabrina replied, not looking up. “Considering you’re doing other things, I’m probably going to stay home.”

“But I wanted to spend time with you,” she said.

Sabrina looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. Chloé tilted her head in confusion.

“You’ve been avoiding me for a week and a half,” Sabrina said.

“I’ve been trying to make more friends,” Chloé explained. “It’s a long story, and I can’t tell you all of it but-“

“But you could tell Adrien?” she asked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

“Just how apparently I’m not your best friend anymore,” she retorted. “After I was Akumatized, you promised you’d never ignore me again!”

“I haven’t!” she insisted.

“Then why did you lie to me about ‘having a headache’ when you were off talking to Marinette?” she demanded. “Why have you been talking to literally everyone else? Why did you call Adrien your best friend?”

“I can’t tell you about Marinette,” she said. “But I’ve been talking to everyone else because I want to be friends with them now. And I called Adrien my best friend because he’s the one who knows everything about me!”

“Considering how awkward he looks around you, I doubt he paid attention,” she scoffed. “I’ve heard a few people say he hates you, but he’s too nice to tell you to leave.”

“Clearly, no one saying that knows him,” she sighed. “But fine. You want to prove that you know me better than Adrien? Answer three questions.”

“What?” she asked. “W-why would you even-“

“You want to prove how much you know me,” she stated. “That’s the only way.

Sabrina glanced away for a moment. Chloé had expected it. Anger made her more confident, but someone else’s confidence still crushed hers. She felt bad for thinking that, especially since the whole point here was to be a better friend, but she’d brought it up.

“Ask your questions,” Sabrina said.

That was surprising. Chloé was sure she’d have given in. Seems that living in a city where people become supervillians can boost your confidence. As could becoming a supervillain yourself, depending on the situation.

“Alright,” Chloé agreed. “Who is my most recent crush?”

“Adrien, of course,” Sabrina managed to keep from rolling her eyes. “Unless something’s changed this past week that you kept from me.”

“I won’t use this past two weeks against you,” she agreed. “Next question, -“

“Wait, aren’t you going to tell me the answer?” she asked.

“At the end,” she shrugged, wondering if this was ‘bad’ too. “Who is my favorite Sailor Moon character?”

“When have you watched Sailor Moon?” she asked.

“While it defeats the purpose of these questions,” she answered, “Adrien had me watch a few seasons. Haven’t seen it in a while, but it’s been brought up a few times this past week and a half so it’s on the mind.”

“Probably Tuxedo Mask then,” she said. “He’s all the perks of a good-looking superhero, without the real-life superhero’s pun spree.”

“Last one,” she said, avoiding the need to shout and accidently reveal quite a few secrets. “What album do I listen to when upset?”

“XY’s ‘Number One’!” she said. “You can’t be upset listening to his songs.”

Chloé was torn. On one hand, she could lie. Tell Sabrina ‘yep! You’re right! Let’s go back to normal except better!’. On the other hand, that wouldn’t fix anything. On somehow another hand, she hated that she found pleasure in being right. Telling someone this shouldn’t make you feel good.

“Zero for three,” Chloé answered.

“That’s not possible!” Sabrina said. “I know you! What are the real answers?”

“First, my crush,” she said, holding up a finger to emphasize. “Not Adrien. It’s never been Adrien.”

Then why-“ she began.

“Protection,” It wasn’t a complete lie, just a half-truth. “If I’m known for being ‘totally in love’ with him, less people try to ask me out.”

“And the Sailor Moon question?” she asked.

“Just because I don’t go on and on about it doesn’t mean I never liked it,” she shrugged. “It’s a tie between Usagi and Chibiusa.”

“And what about XY?” she demanded. “You love XY!”

“His songs are catchy and fun to sing and dance to,” she said. “But not what I want when I’m upset. I don’t want someone to come in and be all ‘hey! Stop being upset!’, I want something comforting, which is what Katie Hokulani’s ‘Light, Magic, and Love’ is good for.”

“You’re lying!” She shouted.

That got them a look from the librarian. Chloé gave him a small smile and wave, a simple ‘I get the message’. Still, he looked mildly upset.

“I’m sorry,” Chloé said, making sure to whisper. “It’s not your fault.”

“How is it not my fault?” Sabrina demanded. “How can I just miss all that?”

“Because I kept it from you,” she answered. “I used you as company, basically. I didn’t want to get close to anyone, so I actively pushed them away. You were so insistent on being my friend, so I let you. But I’ve never let you get close. I’ve been terrible. And I know that. I’d like to start over, and actually be your friend this time.”

“Are you serious?” she snapped. “You just said that our entire friendship was a lie? Why would I want to just forgive that?”

“I don’t expect you to,” she answered, sinking into her chair. “But it wasn’t a total lie. I do care about you.”

“If you did you would have treated me like a friend!” she shouted. “Friends tell each other things! Marinette might’ve been a bad friend too, but she was right about how you feel about me!”

“I do care about you!” she shouted back. “If I didn’t I wouldn’t be telling you this! And if you didn’t explode at her for deciding that being stalked by an Akuma was more important that a school project, you would’ve had a great friend!”

“Yeah, a friend that talks you into abandoning me!” she screamed “At least if it was a lie, it was blissful ignorance!”

“At least Marinette and Adrien never got mad at me for trying to fix a mistake!” she said.

“Is that what our friendship was? A mistake?” she demaned.

“I’m the mistake!” she roared. “Everything about me is a mistake! My attitude and choices and stars knows what else! Having actual friends is the best thing that’s happened to me, and I wanted us to have that too!”

“Ladies!” the librarian interrupted. “This is a library, now either take this outside, or to the principal’s office!”

Chloé shook, not bothering to even glance at him. She kept her eyes on Sabrina. She felt tears start up the longer she stared. Sabrina’s face might’ve softened a fraction, but she didn’t stay long enough t find out.

“Fine, I’m leaving!” Chloé snapped at the librarian.

She ran out. She didn’t stop. Running was pointless, but she kept it up. If she stopped, it wouldn’t all catch up to her.

She didn’t care about pushing anyone out of the way. Not that it mattered, since everyone was either in a classroom, in the library, or home. She didn’t notice the weight of opening the door.

However, she did notice when there was no longer anything under her feet.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Chloé Bourgeois #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Sabrina Raincomprix

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cambriomusic · 5 years ago

Text

Mike Small Interview

Mike Small is a musician from Toronto, Canada. He was a founding member of the Meligrove Band, and now plays bass for a number of bands. CamBrioMusic.com is delighted to present the following interview. It has been condensed for length considerations.

Cam Brio (CB) = Thanks so much for making the time to be here. How did the documentary about the Meligrove Band come about?

Mike Small (MS) = We were playing a show and a group of students wanted to interview us for a video project. We had a lot of fun with them, and not long after they contacted us again and wanted to make a full-length documentary about a band. They ended up capturing a year of some bad stuff that happened with us. We had our bus break down in Florida and we were stuck in Orlando for a week. They weren’t able to come down and shoot that part. We had two bus breakdowns during the overall time of filming, and I think they composited them both into one story for the sake of continuity. It was December 2010 when we were stuck in Orlando, and we didn’t know when we’d be able to leave. The bus breakdown shown in the movie was in Reno, Nevada. In Montreal we had a belt snap on it. Eventually, we sold it to a soccer team. (laughs)

CB = In the documentary, a lot of Toronto-area bands cite the Meligrove Band as an influence, how did it feel to hear that?

MS = It’s weird, but some if it we already knew because bands tell each other that kind of stuff. I remember at the Montreal festival where we met the guys from Tokyo Police Club, their keyboardist Graham came and sat at our picnic table in the band area and told us what an influence we were on them. The very first comment on our band’s Myspace page, when we had that about a million years ago, was teenaged Graham saying, “I’m going to have a band and get huge, and we will let you open for us.” (laughs) It came true.

CB = Who are some of your musical influences?

MS = A lot of my early bass playing life comes from Paul Simonon from The Clash. Around that time too, I would say Klaus Flouride from the Dead Kennedys. Mike O'Neill from The Inbreds was an influence, but it wasn’t until recently that I started to figure out his fun chords. At some point I got really interested in the Neil Young album “Harvest.” The bassist plays grooves only on the kick drum, and was otherwise staying out completely. The bass becomes a physical presence that controls the volume of the song. Before listening to “Harvest” I would just play constantly on our songs, but when bass players do that songs have no dynamics. But now I find that with bass, not playing is a part of playing. You’re deciding what the dynamics of the songs are. A lot of bassline ideas come from me walking around with the new song I had to play on, in my head. I’d go home and try to figure out what I was hearing in my head. Then I’d go and record and change it around again, that’s generally the process. Two other guys who influenced my playing are Robert Sledge, who played in the Ben Folds Five, and Derek Tokar, who led the Toronto band Radioblaster. Both of them played a Gibson bass with a Russian big muff distortion pedal. They got me into really fuzzy bass you could play on high strings and sound almost synthy, and I definitely put that to use on almost every Meligrove album and anywhere else I could get away it with. (laughs)

CB = Funny connection here, I went to the same high school as you. Did you play a lot of school events?

MS = Yeah, in a sense. Before the Meligove Band formed, I didn’t know Jay or Darcy at all; they had their own band. Meligrove started because the band backing the school choir had all graduated, and the teacher who ran the choir knew that the three of us played instruments, so she approached us to take over. Then the three of us became the school liturgical band, before we were the Meligrove Band. When grade 12 ended, their bass player was leaving so they asked if I would start playing with them. Are you familiar with Sandy from the band Fu*ked Up?

CB = Yeah, for sure.

MS = She went to the same high school and had her own punk band called SNI. If I said no to Jay and Darcy, they were going to ask Sandy to play in the band next. In a sense, Sandy has me to thank for being in Fu*ked Up. (laughs) So when high school ended, that’s how I joined the band. I remember that the three of us went to a Treble Charger concert at the Opera House and that was the first time we all hung out. Side note: I’ve become a freelance bass player for hire. Do you know Rich Aucoin the East Coast singer?

CB = Don’t think I know him.

MS = Well, he sent me a message asking if I would play a bunch of shows with him starting in Ottawa in two weeks. I said yes, and my first show with him was at the Ottawa CityFolk Festival. We were in this arena and there was an outdoor stage next to it. Bush, Live and maybe Our Lady Peace were playing, and I don’t really like Live but they were a lot of fun. (laughs)

CB = Did you ever play with The Cybertronic Spree?

MS = No, but I did make their website. For a while they were getting a different friend to appear on stage as “Weird Al” Yankovic with them. At their very first show I was their first “Weird Al.” They play the ‘80s Transformers soundtrack and there’s a “Weird Al” song on it, that’s why they get someone to play him. Did you see that Kickstarter they did that got over $100,000?

CB = I missed that one.

MS = They asked for something like $15,000 to make an album and they raised way more. They planned to roll all that money into their live production, and were going to go on a huge tour this summer but obviously now can’t. Right before this Kickstarter they were going to play the Gathering of the Juggalos and asked me go to and be their tour manager and merch person. It didn’t work out, but right after that discussion they did this massive Kickstarter. If they ever ask me again, I know they can afford me. (laughs)

CB = In the Meligrove Band you guys always seemed to do your own thing and not try and find into a particular “music scene.” Did you actively try and stick to your own style?

MS = Yeah, I would say that’s accurate.

CB = Do you think that sticking to your own style helped the band’s longevity?

MS = In a sense, yeah. Often in a band your longevity is decided by the public. If in the popular imagination you are an example of a certain style and then that style falls out of favour, you kind of get dragged down with it. I think a lot of music scenes can emerge in an organic social way. A scene may center around an arts school, for example. Where we grew up there was an arts high school and the teenage music scene there was amazing. When we started trying to play in Toronto, we didn’t know anyone and had to exist outside of those social connections. We also always took a while to write songs and record albums, so if we followed trends then the trend would be long gone by the time we put something out. We may have been influenced by things that were current in an organic way, but we never sat down and said, “this is what’s hot right now, so let’s do it.”

CB = Are the other guys in the Meligrove Band playing in other groups now?

MS = Brian and Darcy have a band together. They recently put their album on Spotify. The band is called Quite Nice. Jay has been writing music. He’s been mixing a band’s record and it sounds awesome. He actually mixed the last Meligrove album all by himself. It’s my favourite sounding record we made. I was playing in a live karaoke band for a little over two years. That was really busy, around 3 – 5 gigs a week and a 4-hour set on stage. I have a garage rock band called MAX that’s with Dave Monks and Nick McKinlay. We’re just finishing up an album right now. I have this band called Bankruptcy and we had finished an album and were sitting on it for a while, unsure of how to put it out. We put it online, and then one day later a record label contacted us and wanted to put it out on vinyl. We deleted it to give it time to get pressed. We were supposed to get out and play this summer, but it’s too bad that now we can’t now.

CB = Who are some of the bands you’re listening to right now?

MS = It’s rough because I was playing live karaoke until last fall and it messed with my taste in music. I had to keep track of over 400 songs because we didn’t know what people would choose to sing. So I was constantly listening to a playlist of our repertoire, keeping all 400+ songs fresh in my mind, hardly ever listening to anything else. Lately I’ve been more into The Inbreds. I got this fun ‘70s synth record called “Plantasia.” It was sold in some plant shop in the ‘70s in LA and was reissued last year. The idea is that it’s scientifically engineered to make your plants happier. It’s really just some synth nerd getting stoned and having fun with his synths. It’s hilarious and really fun to listen to. I really like that Neil Young is dipping into his archival stuff and releasing really nice records of shows from the ‘60s and ‘70s. Two months ago I listened to “Enter the Wu-tang” for the first time and I couldn’t stop listening to that for three days. (laughs)

CB = Do you have any favourite concert films or music documentaries?

MS = I liked one called “Last Days Here.” It’s about the guy from Pentagram. They were this young, promising, Sabbath sounding band in the early ‘70s. Now, he’s in his 60s living with his parents and he’s got a lot of problems. If you think of some people you know who’ve kept trying music for too long and then extend it over an entire lifetime into old age, that’s what this movie shows. There is a concert film I love, it’s Canadian, and called “This is What 110% Smells Like.” It’s about B.A. Johnston. He’s pretty much lived on tour in Canada almost constantly since around 2004. There’s a great Globe and Mail article calling him “the new Stompin’ Tom Connors.” We took a pay cut to play a show with him in Sudbury. We drove him to Toronto from Sudbury so that he could take the bus to Hamilton. More recently, B.A. made a TV show about Hamilton as a tour guide. I know it’s fictional, but I recently watched “Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story” and I loved it. I remember when “Walk the Line” the Johnny Cash movie came out I hated it, and felt lonely about it. I feel like “Walk Hard” makes fun of all the stuff that I hated about “Walk the Line” when it came out, and I thought, “wow, I’m not alone.” (laughs)

CB = Did the Meligrove Band play last year?

MS = Yeah, we played two songs at a Sloan tribute show. The band The Golden Dogs organized it. I asked if I could join them on bass for a couple of songs, and they came back and asked if the Meligroves would get back together to play. To my surprise everyone was immediately into it. We were just one small part of the show, but it felt really good.

#Michael Small #The Meligrove Band #Interview With Musician #Tokyo Police Club #The Inbreds #Fu*ked Up #Rich Aucoin #The Cybertronic Spree #Sloan

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theconservativebrief · 6 years ago

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Last Saturday, about three hours before my wedding, I waited in a hotel room with my rabbi and watched cable news reports of a massacre at a synagogue not far from where we were.

The Pittsburgh synagogue shooting, the deadliest act of anti-Semitic violence in recorded American history, was a terrorist attack aimed at the heart of the Jewish community. The shooter, who openly said he wanted to “kill all the Jews,” was sending a message: that even in America, where Jews like my grandparents had found refuge after the Holocaust, you are not and never will be safe.

And our wedding was held under the explicit threat of anti-Semitic violence.

About two months prior, a group of online anti-Semites angry with my reporting had published its date and location and threatened to crash the celebration. They defaced our online guestbook with anti-Semitic posts and promises of violence. One message, from “Joseph Goebbels,” promised my wife Katie and I that “some day soon you will shut your lying mouths for good.”

A security consultant concluded, after an investigation, that the threats were not serious. And indeed, our wedding was lovely and unmarred by violence. But the Tree of Life shooter had marinated in similar online alt-right forums as the ones from which our threats emerged. He proved that the skyrocketing levels of hate speech directed at American Jews recently are not merely the idle chatter of bored internet trolls. This new wave of anti-Semitism could, and in fact did, produce a kind of American pogrom.

Under those circumstances, my wedding to Katie was no longer solely a celebration of our happiness. It felt like an act of defiance.

I met Katie in the latter half of 2015, and fell in love quickly. She was not Jewish, but she began reading about Judaism after seeing how meaningful it was to me.

Katie’s an academic, and she approached Jewish studies with a scholar’s diligence. She connected with the rich intellectual core, emotional heart, and beauty of Jewish ritual in a way that, she told me, came as a real surprise. She converted about a year before our wedding.

During Katie’s conversion, she saw the best parts of Judaism. She didn’t see the suffering that I had glimpsed growing up: the numbers tattooed on my grandfather’s arm; the more subtle but far more profound psychological scars of an Auschwitz survivor who escaped a death march in 1945 by hiding under a dung pile in the Bavarian countryside.

HIAS, the Jewish refugee resettlement group, brought my grandfather and grandmother over to the United States after the war. My mother was born on American soil, a birthright citizen; if it weren’t for HIAS’s assistance, she never would have been here to meet my father. This was the organization the Pittsburgh shooter singled out before he set out on his rampage. He was enraged by its work helping the modern-day equivalents of my family coming to America.

This is the duality of modern Jewish life: We are tasked with maintaining a beautiful and ancient tradition in the face of the knowledge that some people want to kill us for doing so. Every joyful Jewish event operates with this understanding humming in the background.

We didn’t want our wedding to focus on Jewish suffering. Katie and I wanted our day to be about the joy of Jewish life, about the new Jewish home we were creating together. There were little touches — my grandfather’s prayer shawl on our shoulders, my Great-Uncle Josef’s shawl on the top of our chuppah — to remind us of our ancestors, many of whom had suffered terribly. But we wanted to celebrate our lives and our future: to share our joy with our friends and family.

The Pittsburgh shooting reminded us that there is no neat separation between Jewish joy and Jewish suffering. The shooter attacked the Tree of Life synagogue during a bris, the ritual circumcision and party marking the entry of a new Jewish boy into the world. It is the very fact of us living Jewishly that these people hate; conversely, every part of Jewish life that we live publicly is a declaration of victory over their project.

So even after the shooting, the wedding went ahead as planned. We stood under the chuppah and exchanged rings; we broke the glass and were hoisted up on chairs and danced the hora. This was, to my mind, the best way we could honor the 11 victims in Pittsburgh: to show that Jewish life goes on in the face of those who want it to cease, that our family will continue the legacy that they died attempting to preserve.

In the days following the wedding, Katie and I went away on a mini honeymoon. I had initially resolved to stay away from work and the news during those precious newlywed days.

But the enormity of the Pittsburgh shooting hit home after the wedding ended, and I could not stop reading. What struck me the most, aside from the pain of the Jewish community, was the insulting response from our political leadership.

President Trump has not ceased blaming the “migrant caravan” on George Soros, a wealthy Jewish philanthropist and Holocaust survivor; just Wednesday, he said “he wouldn’t be surprised” if Soros were behind it all. This idea, that Jews are behind mass migration, appears to be the reason the Pittsburgh shooter launch his killing spree. (Soros, long an object of right-wing scorn, was himself one of the more than a dozen prominent Democrats and Democratic donors who were mailed pipe bombs in recent weeks.)

Vice President Mike Pence invited a fake rabbi, Loren Jacobs, to offer a post-Pittsburgh prayer for “unity” at a campaign rally. Jacobs is actually a Christian missionary dedicated to converting Jews — that is to say, to weakening the Jewish community — and a defrocked one at that. His comments at the rally contained references to Jesus and a call for a Republican victory in the 2018 midterms; he did not name a single one of the Pittsburgh victims.

This offensive response was in no way surprising: The White House’s response to hate crimes is quite typically tone-deaf and insulting. But this one felt different.

As a Jew mourning with my community, I wanted a promise from my political leadership: a pledge of support for American Jews, an offer that the people in power will do everything they can to protect my new family from another massacre. What I got was the opposite: a callous indifference to our justified sense of fear, and repetition of the same kind of anti-Semitic conspiracy theories you heard from people like the Pittsburgh shooter. While both Pence and Trump offered denunciations of anti-Semitism, their words felt pro forma in light of their actions.

The essential truth of diaspora Jewish life is that we are, and always will be, a minority. Because we exist in largely non-Jewish societies, we depend on the goodwill of the non-Jews who run these societies for our safety and survival. The worst anti-Semitic acts in history had been either perpetrated by governments or implicitly sanctioned by them.

During my mini honeymoon, which was supposed to be filled with joy, I was at times overcome by anger. America’s most visible leaders, the president and vice president, were showing me, my wife, and our community that they were not on our side — that they did not hear our concerns, did not feel our pain, and were indifferent to the scary historical resonances that their behavior brought up in the Jewish mind.

Being Jewish and a newlywed creates a sense of obligation: As the ebullience of the wedding reception recedes, the hard work of building a Jewish family looms ahead of you. The past week has woken me up to the fact that many people in my country, represented by the president himself, are at best indifferent to our community’s fate. It is a hard lesson in being a minority that I will never forget.

I don’t want to leave you with the sense that the shooting ruined our wedding. Far from it: It was a beautiful day, full of memories I will never forget. My best man breaking down during his toast; Katie’s sisters calling me “brother” for the first time; Katie, stunning in her long white dress. These memories, not the sense of persecution and threat, are what run through my head when I think of that day.

I wish those scenes could serve as an unalloyed testament to the strength of the Jewish community in the face of horrible violence. But my reveries are tempered by a disquieting thought, grown louder in the past few days: that our fellow Americans do not have our back.

Original Source -> My Jewish wedding was the day of the Pittsburgh shooting. Anti-Semites threatened it.

via The Conservative Brief

#IFTTT #The Conservative Brief

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