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a3veen · 6 months

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How should we talk to children about war?

27/10/2023

Friday briefing:

Explaining conflict to young people is hard – but can help with their resilience

With the cost of living crisis, political chaos, and two full-blown wars, the news cycle is possibly the bleakest it’s ever been. Waking up to more bad news every day is hard. It’s hard for you to read, and it’s hard for us to report on. But it’s hardest of all for the children – in Gaza, Israel and Ukraine, of course, but also those hearing about it from a distance and perhaps encountering the horrors of war for the first time.

In less than three weeks, it is thought that more than 2,360 children have been killed in Gaza, while more than 30 children were killed by Hamas during the attack in Israel and dozens have been taken hostage. Unicef described the “simply staggering” child death toll as “a growing stain on our collective conscience” as it called for an immediate ceasefire to stem the loss of young lives.

For today’s newsletter, I asked educational and child psychologist Prof Vivian Hill to talk about the impact that war has on still forming minds, and for her tips on how we should talk about the horrors of conflict with children. But first, the headlines.

In depth: ‘Children have a remarkable capacity to cope’

Almost half (47.3%) of the people living in Gaza are under 18, making it one of the youngest populations in the world. With so many children living in a war zone, it is perhaps not so surprising that many have been killed, but the numbers are still shocking. As well as the dead, 5,364 kids have been reported injured in the attacks – which Unicef works out as more than 400 children killed or injured every day since the conflict began on 7 October.

“The killing and maiming of children, abduction of children, attacks on hospitals and schools, and the denial of humanitarian access constitute grave violations of children’s rights,” Adele Khodr, Unicef’s regional director for the Middle East and North Africa, said. “Unicef urgently appeals on all parties to agree to a ceasefire, allow humanitarian access and release all hostages. Even wars have rules. Civilians must be protected – children particularly – and all efforts must be made to spare them in all circumstances.”

Should you try to shield your children from the horror of war?

“It’s impossible to stop children from learning about the war,” Hill says. “They’re going to hear about it in the playground at school, or from their phones. Creating the right environment for them to ask questions they may have about the conflict is the most important thing.” That’s even more true for certain communities: some Jewish schools felt forced to shut their doors or tell children not to wear their uniforms in public, while Muslim children arriving at mosques for prayers have been met by police guarding the doors due to the “heightened risk” caused by the Israel-Gaza conflict.

Hill says many parents worry that learning about war is “denying children their innocence”, but she says there is never a good time for kids to learn that not everyone in the world is nice to each other. “It may well be earlier than you would have liked to broach the topic of war with your children, but take this as an opportunity to provide them with the right tools to deal with it – to build up resilience.”

As a parent or carer, Hill says, you are uniquely placed to know how much information your children require and how to talk to them depends on their age and development. The most important thing, she says, is to listen to the child and let them guide you in helping them.

“Some children will need reassurance that they are safe, while older children may need support to understand the complexities of the situation,” she says. “By taking the time to listen, and to help them process their own thoughts and emotions about the conflict, parents can provide comfort and help children cope with their difficult feelings.”

Ask your children how they feel

Hill, who has worked as a child psychologist for more than 20 years and now trains other people in child and educational psychology, says it is very important to put your own emotions to one side and let the child talk freely. “The news of war is distressing for all of us,” she says. “But it is important to be careful not to put your thoughts and worries into their heads.”

Be careful about managing your distress. “If they see you’re anxious, worried or crying, they will take that onboard and worry as well.”

She suggests using open questions to explore their feelings. “Ask your children what they have heard and seen and how they are feeling, this allows them to introduce their personal perspectives and understandings first, so you can focus on their needs rather than your assumptions about how they might be feeling.”

Acknowledge the horror of war

As they grow up children inevitably develop their understanding of social injustice, inequalities and the horror of war. “This can make them feel upset, angry, frightened or unsafe, helping children learn how to process difficult information, feelings and emotions is a key role for parents and carers,” says Hill, who is a member of the British Psychological Society’s division of educational and child psychology.

She says it is important to regulate what news children are consuming, and points out that the news at 6pm uses less graphic images than the news at 10, for example. The BBC’s Newsround is the best child-friendly source of information, in her view.

“After seeing anything affecting, talk to your child about it, acknowledge the horror of it, but also don’t dwell on it.” She suggests doing something together with your child after seeing anything distressing. “Go out of for a walk, take the dog out, do something different.”

What to tell your children depends on how old they are

For younger children, only give them minimal details and in a manner they can understand. She suggests for anxious children that may worry what they’re seeing on the news could happen to them, “It might be helpful to look at a map together and see that it is happening a long way away, and not impacting people here.”

She says distance shouldn’t be used to minimise the importance of a conflict itself, but can have a big impact if children are concerned they could be at risk.

Hill says you might feel your children are too young to learn about war, but “they have a remarkable capacity to cope with feelings” and “[talking to them about conflict] may help to build their resilience for the future”.

“For adolescents they may have a more nuanced understanding of what’s happening,” says Hill, who is programme director of the UCL Institute of Education doctorate in child, adolescent and educational psychology. “In that case it can be helpful to do a little research together looking at the history of the conflict, and understand that both sides believe they have genuine cases.

“The most important thing is shifting the conversation towards the understanding of peace. Talking about the importance of ending wars, on keeping people safe, and promoting peaceful solutions, that will help your children feel reassured.”

Vivan, who has spent much of the past three weeks visiting schools to help teachers learn how to help their pupils deal with the impact of war, says she has been heartened by what she has heard unprompted in the playground.

“I heard somebody saying something unpleasant about a child whose family was linked to one side of the conflict,” she said. “Another child interrupted to say ‘It’s nothing to do with that person or their family, and they don’t get to choose what is happening, but what needs to happen is peace now’.

“It was a remarkably mature and well-researched position for a child of 14,” Hill says. “And it shows that young people can be a tremendous force for good. If we can all learn from that child and push that message that peace is the only way to solve this.”

Jamie Wilson

Head of International News, The Guardian

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notchesandbullets · 3 years

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Saving Her (Ojiro Mashirao x Wolf!Reader)

Art credits: @floatzxs

Part 11: Internship with Hound Dog, Aizawa’s totally not jealous. You and Shinsou get along great, except when you don’t. Kayama and Yamada’s endless teasing of Aizawa who’s turned into a total dad to you both. Heavily inspired by the picture above.

Word Count: 4.7k

Aizawa didn't like it.

You were getting way too close to the Hound Dog. He watched as you threw your head back and laughed at something he said, running around in circles around the pro-hero you were doing your internship under.

Yup, definitely way too close.

He tried to convince himself it wasn't because he was jealous. After all, you were the only one he called 'dad', right?

That had to mean something

He rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a frustrated sigh. Seriously, he was being too irrational.

You were on a security patrol with Hound Dog on campus, the hybrid teaching you how to put your enhanced senses to good use, looking for discrepancies in the air on a whim.

Aizawa knew you weren't going to ask him for him to take care of you and train you. You already knew he was busy with Shinsou, that kid in your general studies with a brainwashing quirk.

Sure, the two of you hit it off, his endless sarcasm and attitude bringing you out of your shell and causing the two of you to banter back and forth every time you were in the same vicinity.

It drove him up a wall.

But it was because you saw how much time he was dedicating to Shinsou that he knew you weren't going to ask him to train you as well.

So when Hound Dog extended you an opportunity for an internship, Aizawa couldn't turn you down once you turned those shining eyes on him.

You were all too eager when you asked him for permission, bouncing up and down the entire time you told him about it. He was pretty sure you made a point about it being a good way to prepare for the Quirk Traffickers just in case and that's what made him finally agree.

He never regretted the decision more.

Look, it wasn't because he didn't want you to get strong. Quite the opposite, in fact. You both had already been through all that and he didn't wasn't keen on the same misunderstanding happening again.

But he didn't see why it had to be with Hound Dog of all heroes.

True, your quirks were somewhat similar. And you seemed to get along really well. Not as well as you and him but it was decent enough.

Oh.

He stopped and stared.

I'm jealous, aren't I?

Turning away with a sigh, he headed back to his office. He had papers to grade and rowdy students to round up.

Several yards away, You danced rings around Hound Dog, waving your hands around excitedly.

He had been the one to help you design your hero costume. Clothing that was sleek enough to give you a speed advantage and a pattern that could conform to your surroundings would help you blend in with your environment without any trouble.

The utility belt around your hips held several throwing knives to make up for your lack of long-distance combat ability and canisters of ointment so you could administer first-aid on sight. Credits of the idea went to Todoroki when he showed you his one evening when you asked just before sparring.

Your shoulders and legs were built to withstand severe impacts, making you able to run faster and for longer periods of time without wearing them down.

Hound Dog had recommended combat boots and braces to reduce the strain on your muscles for your arms and legs while you engaged in combat, making it easier to fight knowing that you didn't have to worry too much about the repercussions.

Hatsume was a little too eager when she gave them your requested upgrades but that girl was damn gifted so you didn't complain.

"Watch out for that wire." Hound Dog barked at you as you aimlessly almost crashed into a tree.

It wouldn't do anything except set off an alarm and put up UA's defense grid. Which is why he couldn't have you tip it off.

The pro-hero shook his head as you righted yourself sheepishly. You were like a pup, literally. Still, it was rather endearing. He didn't have any children but if he did, he reckoned that they'd be a lot like you.

"Eraser's kid, come on." He growled and you pouted, stomping your foot childishly.

"I have a name!!" You huffed, hands on your hips indignantly.

"Yeah, Eraser's kid. Now let's go." He ordered and you passed by him with a small frown, crossing your arms over your chest.

Rude.

You were happy though. After all this time, you had someone you could call dad. It was weird but in a homely sort of sense. You rather liked it.

The two of you patrolled UA's grounds without much trouble. He taught you the route to take as well as escape paths in place if you ever found yourself in a tough situation you couldn't get out of.

UA's sensors were top-grade, one of the best security systems in the country, but he had to prepare you for all scenarios. Just in case.

You padded behind him as you made your way through the thicket that surrounded the school, thanking him as he helped you pick your way through the forest.

There were a bunch of hidden traps and you were surprised when he told you the reason behind it.

"UA's been reforming security since the USJ incident." Hound Dog snarled in what you figured to be equal parts anger and irritation. "Remember, if you're going to go anywhere after hours for any reason, you must have a guardian with you, is that clear?"

You nodded firmly, unfazed by his aggression. It wasn't like you had thought about breaking the rules, even if there was a certain charm to it that enticed you, you were sure it would give Aizawa and Ojiro a heart attack.

Soon, it was time for a lunch break.

You were pretty surprised when he suggested a hunt but were extremely enthusiastic at the prospect of satisfying your instincts. The urge to maul and maim only came about if you were starving and even then, it was still possible to suppress it if you concentrated long enough.

Creeping around a tree, you utilized the foliage as a cover as you crept up on an unsuspecting prey.

You didn't make a sound as you crouched down, hiding between the blades of grass. Your lips drew back in a snarl as you locked on your target, springing on it and catching it by surprise. With one swipe, you killed it and took it in your jaws to carry back to where Hound Dog was.

He raised an eyebrow at you as you practically pranced over to him, beaming proudly at your first kill in a decade.

It had been far too long since you had a fresh kill.

You licked your lips as soon as you set it down in front of him as some sort of peace offering, wagging your tail as you waited for him to say something.

But you shrunk back and whimpered as he glared at you.

"Sloppy!!!" He bellowed, howling with spit spraying from his muzzled mouth. "Your control needs work!!!"

Your ears drooped and your eyes saddened but you nodded meekly.

Hound Dog sat back on his hunches. He had watched you closely while you hunted and seen what you could improve on.

"You need to work on your patience." He growled out gruffly and huffed when you fixated your large eyes on him. "You almost let it escape. Just because you were able to pin it down in time doesn't mean you did it right!! That was only the result!!"

You hung onto his advice, finding it sound beneath his brash way of wording it and trying to learn as much out of it as you can.

"You're fast but you're not as strong yet." Hound Dog stated, pointing to the shoes on your feet. "Hatsume made those specifically for your speed so your surprise attack should come from behind, not the front."

He scratched his head, grumbling out reluctantly, "But it wasn't bad for your first kill."

You sat up straighter at the begrudging praise, eyes shining and a huge smile stretched from ear to ear.

"Grrrr, but don't let it go to your head!!!" He snapped, pushing your fresh kill towards you so that you could eat it.

Your smile got impossibly wider and you nodded so fast your ears flopped back and forth.

"Eraser's kid, huh?" Hound Dog mused to himself as he collected firewood so that you could cook it.

Although the both of you could eat it raw, you both preferred it cooked unless you were in a particularly savage mood.

He huffed as he gathered a bunch of sticks for kindling.

"She's already strong."

After school let out, you walked home with your purple-haired friend from your general studies class. Annoying little brat.

You found out in a very short period of time that you could not stand him when he got like this. Ever since he found out about your little crush on Ojiro, he hadn't let up.

"Don't you dare." You seethed through clenched teeth as he dangled your notebook in front of your face. "Shinsou, I'm warning you."

The two of you were sitting in Aizawa's living room area. School had let out an hour ago and knowing that your teacher/parental guardian would be going home for the weekend, you two had decided to tag along and bug him.

Unable to get rid of the two of you annoying leeches, Aizawa had firmly instructed the two of you to at least get started on your homework if you were going to be here.

An array of textbooks spread out in front of you while the TV played in the background. You had studied and got through a decent amount of reading but that had only worked for all of ten minutes.

Shinsou smirked, keeping it high above his head. "If you want it, come and get it."

You snarled, pouncing on him before he could blink. The one good thing about the way his quirk worked was that you had to answer his question or jib. It was good because you only ever growled at him when he got like this.

He shoved your face and you whined as your fingertips brushed your notebook, licking his hand.

Shinsou recoiled in disgust. "Ew, Y/N!! That's so gross!!!"

"Serves you right!!" You quipped, grabbing at the spiral that was kept out of your reach. "Give it backkkkk."

"Oh no," He said with a smug smirk. "Not until I see just how many times you wrote Y/N x Mashirao with hearts drawn around it in here."

Before he could follow through with that threat, the notebook was snatched from his hand, the cry of outrage dying on the tip of your tongue. Your eyes flickered up to your dad who was now hovering above the both of you. You hadn't even heard him come in.

He was dressed casually, his hair pulled back away from his face, revealing his scar that he had gotten when the League attacked his students and instead of his hero costume, he was wearing sweatpants and a black, long-sleeved shirt.

Coffee, his tortoiseshell cat, purred at his feet as he fixated a glare on the two of you for not behaving.

"If you have time to play around then maybe you'd like more work to do." Aizawa threatened Shinsou before turning to you. "And you should know by now not to respond to him when he's like that, he's just provoking you."

You hung your head, pushing out your bottom lip as far as it would go.

He sighed, walking over and patting your head. "It's alright, kid. I know you're just playing."

You tail thumped happily in response at being let off the hook.

Shinsou's mouth twisted down into a frown. "Hey, why are you coddling her and not me?"

Aizawa promptly smacked him over the head and the teen winced at the brute force that his mentor delivered.

"Because she's been through a lot and you're being a cheeky brat." He deadpanned.

You flinched as Shinsou turned his sharp glare on you, but relaxed when you saw him soften slightly, letting you know that he was just teasing. Wiggling your eyebrows playfully, you snickered but hid it quickly as Aizawa's attention snapped to you next.

"Oi, you two better get along." Aizawa ordered, turning to leave the room to go back to where Kayama and Yamada were at. "If I hear one peep out of either of you, there will be consequences."

"Yes, sensei." You both chorused together, but not before sharing an evil look with each other that passed under his radar as he left to continue the conference.

The second he stepped out, all hell broke loose.

Your eyes shot to him when he stood up, taking up the practiced stance Aizawa had been teaching him, gesturing for you to do the same. You popped up to your feet but you didn't get a chance to swing as he rushed at you.

"Don't you even think about— SHINSOU, YOU IDIOT!!!!!"

Your shriek carried clearly to the other room and the three teachers sitting in Aizawa's office.

"Aw, isn't that precious." Kayama cooed, resting her chin in the palm of her hand and drummed her fingers on the table she was sitting at.

Yamada was sprawled upside down on his couch, nearly falling off and crashing to the ground when the shared wall between you guys and them shook.

"Uh, Shouta." He called to his best friend as he sighed in exasperation, the underground hero pinching the bridge of his nose. "Aren't you going to take care of that?"

Aizawa groaned, his head lolling back to thump against the opposite wall. "I'm too tired for this."

Kayama's grin grew mischievous and her eyes sparkled. "Shouta, they're your children for goodness sake!!"

Yamada matched her crazy smile and he flailed a bit before getting the right equilibrium to sit up straight. "He's a dad!! It finally happened!!!"

The rugged underground hero threw a pillow at both of their faces to get them to stop laughing as his best friends chortled obnoxiously.

"Shut up." He grumbled, throwing an arm across his face.

He flinched as the racket kicked up from the living room suddenly stopped at the sound of a very loud crash.

Aizawa stalked towards the door and ripped it open, narrowing his eyes until they became slits. "If they broke anything..."

The other two shared a knowing glance with each other.

"He's going to chew them out for messing up his living room." Kayama gloated, bounding over to peek outside so she could see what was going on.

Yamada skipped over, tripping over his feet in his haste to not be left behind. "Then he's going to feel bad and then he's going to leave and let them do it again."

"Discipline, Shouta," Kayama tsked as she murmured. "You need to discipline them."

Raising an eyebrow at her, he commented, "That sounds a little weird coming from you, Nemuri."

"Oh hush!!" She snapped, smacking him on the arm so hard that he yelped. "Not like that!!"

Her energy and bubbly nature resurfaced as she heard Aizawa doing exactly what she and Yamada panned out.

"He's such a dad." She crooned, wanting to see how you were wrapping him around your finger this time around.

It always was the most entertaining thing, seeing her stoic best friend crumble underneath your adorable pouts and watery puppy eyes. It never failed to force Aizawa to throw up his hands and give into you.

Soft Dadzawa was the best.

You and Shinsou lowered your heads as Aizawa strictly admonished the two of you.

The once clean and tidy living room had been thrown out of order and you had feathers in your hair. You weren't exactly sure how Shinsou managed to rip the pillow as he was throwing at you, but you weren't keen on finding out now.

You yelped in pain as Aizawa smacked you upside the head, giving the same treatment to the sheepish-looking boy next to you.

"Honestly." Aizawa exhaled forcefully, gripping his head, frustration coming through clear. "What am I going to do with the two of you..."

You grinned but bit your lip when he shot you a glare, blinking up innocently at him.

Shinsou chuckled, petting Coffee nonchalantly as she climbed into his lap, smiling as the cat purred, loving the attention he gave her.

Aizawa sighed, done for now. He had things he had to finish so that the two loudmouths waiting in his office would leave. He wanted to sleep.

"Thirty minutes."

You and Shinsou straightened up at the tiredness in his voice, casting a slightly worried look between the two of you. You had heard him angry and frustrated but never tired like this. He must really be exhausted.

Aizawa took no notice of the silent dialogue between the two of you. "Can you two please behave for that long?"

He was surprised when there was no snark from Shinsou or witty answer from you as the two of you bowed at him but thought nothing of it as he left the room once more.

If either of you kicked up a racket like that again, he would send Yamada out to deal with you.

As soon as the door closed behind him, the two of you were up on your feet but now for another reason entirely.

"Where is it?" You asked, looking in every cabinet but coming up short.

"Here."

You caught what Shinsou tossed you, nodding in thanks. Opening the garbage bag, you got to work, picking up what you had broken while he grabbed a broom and swept up the feathers littering the floor.

In all of ten minutes, everything was cleaned and put back in its original position and the two of you returned to your studies.

Aizawa was shocked to find you in that same position another twenty minutes later when he was showing his nosy colleagues out the door but didn't comment on it, merely shoved Kayama out when she cooed at how cute you two were.

She tried to whine in protest. "But Shouta—"

"Get lost, Nemuri."

Shinsou frowned as Coffee jumped up from his lap as the door slammed closed, making her way over to Aizawa.

"Mean." He said under his breath, making you laugh.

You closed your notes and textbook, done for the day. Packing them away, you noticed Shinsou had finished, too.

"Want to walk back together?" You asked.

He snorted, smirking at you. "No."

You stuck out your tongue, puffing out your cheeks at him. "Rude."

He ruffled your hair and you scowled, swiping at him but he darted out of reach before you could grab him. You two squabbled all the way to the front door, just about to put on your shoes when there came a quiet murmur from the edge of the kitchen.

"Are you hungry?"

You froze and Shinsou cocked his head, turning around slowly. Aizawa's frame was braced against the corner of the wall somehow when you weren't paying attention, he had rolled up his sleeves, revealing countless scars and a lot more muscle than you originally thought.

His eyes narrowed at his students. "You two didn't eat yet."

"Ah..." Shinsou winced. "It's alright, sensei, I have some food back at the dorm."

Without changing your expression, you deadpanned. "He's lying."

"Y/N!!!"

Squealing as he charged at you, you launched yourself into your dad's chest, hoping he would protect you.

"Dad, Toshi's being mean again!!!" You cried as Shinsou chased you.

"Get back here!!" Shinsou mock snarled, snapping his teeth at you.

You clutched on tighter to Aizawa's shirt, sending him a pleading look.

He sighed but even you could tell he was holding back a smile as he put an arm around you while warding off his student with the other.

You slyly stuck your tongue out at the defeated brainwashing kid but your dad caught the action.

"Y/N..." He warned. "Don't instigate."

"Yes, Dad." You said seriously, snuggling into his side before peering back up at him. "Can Toshi stay for dinner?"

You already knew he wanted to cook for you. That much was evident when he asked if you had eaten yet. He had this uncanny habit of doing things indirectly and with how much you knew Shinsou was like him, you knew if you called him out on it, the two would flatly deny that that's what he meant.

Better to play along.

Not that you were complaining. Aizawa's home cooking was actually really good, when he had the time and energy for it. Usually, you did most of the cooking, having enough skills thanks to Sato to make things that were edible.

"Only if he wants to." Aizawa told you before glancing up at Shinsou shuffling his feet awkwardly. "You're more than welcome to, kid."

Shinsou didn't say anything at first but he moved closer to you guys, away from the front door.

"Are you sure, sensei?" He asked, a hint of worry swimming in the depths of his eyes, afraid he wasn't being genuine.

That he was only asking out of politeness and that he didn't really want him there. But looking at you, he only saw pure, radiating hope in your gaze.

You were being honest with him and though Aizawa's was vastly more subtle, he saw the truth in his teacher's eyes, too.

Shinsou nodded hesitantly, his own way of answering and you beamed.

"Great!! I'll get started!!"

You dashed into the kitchen, pulling out the vegetables and started the fire to get the water boiling for the noodles. Your dad had already pulled out and marinated the meat for tonight, all that was left was to cook it.

But in all your excitement, you were moving a little too fast.

Aizawa stiffened, then shook his head as another crash could be heard from the kitchen, followed by a sheepish 'oops'.

He crossed his arms over his chest, already making his way over to where Shinsou couldn't see. "Kid..."

"It wasn't me, I swear!!" You blurted out.

Pouting as you were banned from the kitchen anyways, you skipped over to where Shinsou was awkwardly sitting on a chair by the table. He looked so uncomfortable.

You frowned, then beamed as a light bulb went off in your head.

He leaned back warily as he saw the glint of mischief in your eyes as you came closer. "What are you doing?"

"Aw, you don't trust me?" You asked playfully.

"Never." He retorted and you pouted childishly.

"Meanie."

He waved you off but you could already tell he was much more relaxed than before. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. So, what did you want?"

You gestured for him to come closer so your dad wouldn't hear and whispered in his ear. "I know where he keeps his capture weapon and goggles."

Shinsou tried but even he couldn't wipe the excitement off his face fast enough. He never told you but he was a hardcore Eraserhead fan, even before coming to UA. Since he was an underground hero, there was no media coverage on him, no merchandise to be sold in stores but he knew.

Aizawa had saved him once, a long time ago.

His parents were rich and completely absent from his life. He didn't grow up with a family because they were never around and he didn't grow up with friends because of his quirk.

Independent from a young age, he had distanced himself from almost everybody, living a life of solitude no matter how many presents his parents tried to throw at him to buy his love.

He was glad that he moved out of their ridiculous mansion ages ago, moving in with a cousin until he was old enough to live on his own, but what he didn't plan on was being attacked by a villain one day as he was walking home from school.

Aizawa had saved him back then, acting quickly to rescue him and take down the other.

Shinsou once questioned that if this hero knew back then how villainous his quirk was, would he have saved him?

Of course he would have. And that's what spurred on his decision, his path that he wanted to take.

All because of Eraserhead.

It thrilled him when his hero, his idol himself, offered to train and teach him personally how to become a hero before his transfer into the hero course. When he approached him after the sports festival, he almost passed out right then and there.

That must have been what a lot of people experienced towards All Might.

He never talked about his admiration of him before though, so you must've been much more observant than he gave you credit for.

Shinsou attempted to look disinterested at your proposal. "Really?"

Your grin grew wider and you grabbed his hand, hauling him up out of the chair as you snuck into Aizawa's room. You knew how much he wanted to see them up close and try them out, even if he wouldn't admit to it.

"Come on!!" You giggled, ushering him inside quickly and digging into the nightstand by the futon.

Needless to say, when Aizawa found the two of you once dinner was ready, Shinsou was caught red-handed with his capture weapon on and his trademark goggles on his face.

Even with both the scarf and goggles covering his face, you could still see him turn bright red as he was caught by his mentor.

"Don't worry!!" You threw over your shoulder as you flounced away, leaving the two of them alone. "He's not mad!!"

Shinsou tensed as the door closed behind you, ripping off everything as fast as he could even though it would've prevented what had already been done. A hand on his shoulder halted him.

Aizawa's mouth twitched and his gaze held a glimmer of amusement. "Cool, right?"

Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, Shinsou nodded and apologized for trying them on without his permission, embarrassed beyond belief.

The older man tried to soothe his worries by casting him a purposeful look. "You know, it might come in handy later on."

Tucking away his capture weapon and goggles, Aizawa pretended not to notice how Shinsou's jaw dropped in shock at what he was suggesting for him.

"If you go to the Development Studio, I'm sure they could make something similar for you." He told him while suppressing a proud smile.

He had come so far since the Sports Festival. He had trained hard on his own and while he was already proud of him for all his efforts and his drive, to have him admire a gruff, anti-social man like him sent warmth blooming in his chest.

Shinsou couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Would...."

He swallowed thickly, pushing aside his pride and the remnants of his embarrassment.

"Would you teach me how to fight with it?"

Aizawa's mouth quirked up in a small smile. "Sure thing, kid."

Shinsou thought that was the last behind him when he followed his mentor out the door to go eat the dinner waiting for them. You were already at the table, portions served out, kicking your feet as you waited impatiently for them.

But Aizawa wasn't finished.

"The goggles suited you." He commented nonchalantly, causing the boy's face to flush in embarrassment once again.

"Aizawa-sensei!!" Shinsou protested.

You doubled over, clutching your stomach. "Good one, Dad!!!"

Looking on fondly as the two of you began to bicker, you teasing Shinsou and him furiously defending whatever dignity he had left, Aizawa's smile softened.

You two.

He guessed he didn't mind that it was the two of you.

Taglist: @katsukis-sad-angel

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ravnicaforgoblins · 3 years

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Ravnica for Goblins

More Awesome NPCs of Ravnica

NPCs are one of the most important tools in a DM’s campaign. Your assorted guards, informants, bartenders, hench-persons, random civilians, and, of course, your quest-givers. Optimistically, you hope to have certain NPCs stick around for a while to have the party build a relationship with them, as opposed to getting murder-hobo-ed because your party doesn’t like their attitude. Which is why it’s so great that Ravnica is filled with cool NPCs who are definitely stronger than your party (for a while)!

A couple notes; I already did a list of Awesome NPCs, focusing on the Ladies of Ravnica, so this time I thought I’d try and give the boys (and Melek) some spotlight. Secondly, as I’ve by now made annoyingly apparent, I’m focusing on characters in the modern era of Ravnica, i.e. after the Decamillennial, because everything before the Decamillennial is a nightmare to figure out and you don’t need that headache.

Tajic, Blade of the Legion

You can’t have the Boros without Tajic. Well, you can, but you don’t want to. Tajic is the Legion’s Champion as well as their Mazerunner, and embodies all the ideals the Legion stands for. Unity, strength, passion; an unbreakable shield against all who would threaten Ravnica’s citizens. He is technically considered a Firefist, but special considerations should be made to give him the flavor he really deserves. Both of Tajic’s MTG cards have had some manner of protection against damage when involving other creatures. In addition, Firefists are actually primarily spellcasters, whereas Tajic is never seen without a blade in his hand or his name. So, to sum up, take a Firefist, add in some manner of damage resistance or even immunity contingent upon having allies present, throw in a weapon trick or two for his big wavy sword, and ta-da! You’ve got Tajic!

Momir Vig, Simic Visionary

I know I said no pre-Decamillennial, but Momir Vig is a special case. Technically, the former Guildmaster is dead, but the shadow of his reign still lingers over the Simic Combine. Momir Vig symbolizes everything Ravnica fears about the Combine; progress without restraint. Vig’s cytoplasts were oozes designed for personalized evolution in subjects to correct flaws and deficiencies (regrowing lost limbs, bolstering weakened immune systems, extra brain cells, etc). The only problem is that the project worked so well that Vig stopped seeing the need for consent, creating a new form of cytoplast that only needs to touch a host to bond with it. This raised some understandable concerns among Ravnican citizens, as well as the other Guilds. These concerns went to 11 when Vig’s Project Kraj, a gargantuan organism composed of thousands of cytoplasts, was activated to purge Ravnica and start over with a fresh slate. They went to a further 12 when Vig was killed, Project Kraj summoned every cytoplasm back to it (maiming, crippling, or killing a large number of hosts), and proceeded to go on a rampage that only ended after it ate Rakdos and went into a coma.

Momir Vig is exactly the kind of mad scientist to escape the grave, go underground, and continue his research unimpeded until it’s ready. A Rogue Guildmaster with no boundaries, or as we like to call it, a ready-made Big Bad.

Melek, Izzet Paragon

As with Vig, Melek is canonically dead, but that sort of “dead” that could conceivably be temporary if the story requires it. Melek is a Weird designed by Niv-Mizzet himself to be the Izzet Mazerunner. A certain sparkmage had other ideas however, so he absorbed the sentient being of pure elemental energy into himself at the start of the Maze and took its place, then tried to shock the other runners to death because, you know, winning. But following the physics principle that energy cannot be created or destroyed, only changed into a different form, it’s believable that Melek could return someday. Probably with a grudge against said sparkmage. Melek is a fascinating build, combining high-level spellcasting with complete elemental resistance or possibly even immunity. Basically, a wizard who can tank. Even more intriguing, any lab run by a being composed of pure energy would be calibrated to channel said energy, possibly allowing short-range teleportation within said lab. This is a brilliant exercise in lair mechanics, so don’t hold back. Lest we forget Melek is a personal project of the Firemind, aka, the single most brilliant, powerful, and egocentric fire-breathing ancient dragon wizard in Ravnican history.

Tomik Vrona, Distinguished Advokist

Given the Orzhov Syndicate’s seeming fascination with being a faceless hierarchy of priests, lawmages, ghosts, tax collectors, etc; it’s nice to have another face with a name. Tomik Vrona is a lawmage who apprenticed under Teysa Karlov herself, making him a master of Ravnican law. It also makes him uncharacteristically open to relationships with other Guilds, as he is effectively Teysa’s link to the outside world during her imprisonment. Tomik carries a strong respect for the law, but is a passionate lover of interesting & creative loopholes. In short, he’s not inherently evil/greedy like most of the Syndicate, but still has ambition in spades. He prefers to use gargoyles for transportation, treasures every book he owns, and is canonically dating/living with that hot-tempered sparkmage mentioned previously. Whether the relationship is public or not is up to you. I personally see it as a measure of trust between the NPCs and the party; it’s a pretty controversial pairing of Guilds. It could even be a Romeo & Juliet (Julio?) kind of affair, just putting that out there.

Vorel of Hull Clade

If Momir Vig represents the dark side of the Simic Combine’s experiments, Vorel represents the infinite possibility they can offer. A former Gruul shaman, he made the decision to give up a piece of his clan’s territory to a Boros Legion garrison to better fortify their home turf, and was nearly killed when they turned on him for perceived cowardice. Vorel escaped and joined the Combine, where he was given Merfolk traits and an environment that embraced his ideas & strategic thinking. Vorel is extremely grateful to his new Guild, and believes himself to be an example of how anything is possible through the Simic, no matter one’s origins. His strong passion & drive have led to great breakthroughs, but he’s definitely more emotionally-driven than most Simic researchers. Here is a Biomancer that isn’t afraid to get dirty or bloody in combat. This could be a fun experiment in crafting a Simic Melee Weapon.

Tolsimir Wolfblood, Ledev Guardian

You know that one leader elf in fantasy stories who everyone else takes orders from but never fights themselves? Yeah, this isn’t that elf. This is what you wish that elf was, a warrior archer who leads his soldiers into battle atop a giant dire wolf and kicks some serious ass. The Ledev are Selesnya’s elite mounted force, skilled fighters, archers, swordsmen, and even spellcasters. They are the cavalry, the breaking dawn on Hornburg, the “oh shit” in an enemy’s mouth. Please don’t make the mistakes of countless fantasy novels by being on bad terms with such badass warriors. Having any member of the Ledev behind you should be a boost to the party’s courage & resolve. Having Tolsimir fight alongside you should be one of the greatest honors of your life. The chance to finally recreate that “besties” relationship between Legolas & Gimli as you see who can kill the most enemies in battle.

Domri Rade, City Smasher

I hesitate to include Domri, I genuinely do. He’s a scraggly little punk who nearly brought about the destruction of the Gruul (and all of Ravnica) ultimately because he was too weak and too stupid. I include him here out of respect for the lore, but you can honestly do better. Domri Rade was considered too small & weak for any Gruul clan, so he instead bonded with the savage animals of the Rubblebelt, eventually discovering he could incite them into stampedes at will. This new power finally granted him admission into Borborygmos’ own Burning Tree Clan, but he panicked during the burial rite of passage and planeswalked away for the first time. Eventually he learned to control his powers, returned to the Rubblebelt, challenged Borborygmos for leadership of the Burning Tree clan, and won by sending wave after wave of stampeding boars to trample the cyclops Guildmaster. He was enlisted by Nicol Bolas to help destroy Ravnica, and failed to realize that meant him too as an eternal ripped out his Planeswalker Spark, killing him. Domri Rade is basically a cheap knockoff of Garruk Wildspeaker, only smaller and weaker and dumber and infinitely less dangerous. He is, however, considered by many to be an omen of the End-Raze, heralding the return of the Boar God Ilharg and the burning down of Ravnica by the Gruul who follow the Old Ways. So maybe play up that angle if you include him in your campaign.

Ral Zarek, Izzet Viceroy

If you only include one NPC from any of my lists in your Ravnica campaign, you must include Ral Zarek. Failing to do so is denying your players the opportunity to interact with the single coolest character in Ravnica. He beats out Vraska for the sole reason that he’s a much more public & accessible figure than the Gorgon Assassin, and an unexpected encounter with him is significantly less likely to end in your death/petrification. Between his good looks, cocky grin, brilliant mind, and lightning powers that put Thor to shame; Ral is certain to make any situation more interesting. He’s a great contact to have within the Izzet, a brilliant researcher, extremely talented with designing gadgets or magic items, an astonishingly powerful magic user, and a fun guy to hang around with. He can definitely have a temper on him, so understand when to back away. Hint: His hair turns from black to white when his electromancy powers are activating. You’ll also probably notice the sounds of static discharge building up around him, perhaps a faint smell of ozone, crackling energy coming from his gauntlet, and, oh yeah, his eyes glow and his smile turns into a growling grimace of death as he fills you with lightning. Whether by design or accident, Ral is basically the mascot for Ravnica, and it’s almost unthinkable for him to be absent from a campaign set there.

#ravnica for goblins #ravnica #goblins #D&D #D&D 5e #dungeons and dragons #mtg #ral zarek #domri rade #tajic #momir vig #tolsimir wolfblood #tomik vrona #vorel #melek #roleplaying #npcs

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redemptionbaby · 4 years

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Delos | Arthur/Reader | Pt. 1

Summary: did someone say WESTWORLD AU?

Warnings: none

word count: 1514

You did not come to Westworld often. No one did. When you did come, you didn’t stay for long. Like most people, you simply didn’t have the money— you would visit with a friend of yours who paid your way because she didn’t want to go by herself. Ironically, she usually ended up leaving you to her own devices often, going to duel the newest model of gunslinger the scientists at Delos had devised.

Despite the infrequency of your visits, and despite the numerous times Arthur had been shot and repaired and gutted and reworked almost completely he remembered you, and waited patiently for you to come back. He was getting a little older. Not able to do the same things as some of the newer models. The hardware just wasn’t there. Luckily, Delos was popular enough that they needed a steady rotation of cowboys to live and die at the hands of honored guests in Westworld. So he’d be repaired and updated until the day he was damaged beyond there being any point.

He knew his memory of you was abnormal. It wasn’t strange for him to remember you, no, androids at Delos were expected to at least be able to recognize faces. But he had certain… notions regarding you. Notions he’d not been built to understand. It was like coming upon the unknown unknown. Arthur has come across a corner of the world and existence he could never have imagined existed, because he had never been meant to imagine in the first place.

It was always him. Maybe you liked him, maybe he was easy, maybe you just wanted someone who you could call a friend in such a surreal place. That much still didn’t matter to him. His platinum heart hadn’t yet developed insecurities for him to fry himself over. Though the idea of worrying was one that intrigued him. You made him want to understand the full scope of human emotions. He could replicate them, but to go through the facial journeys you did in earnest was impossible for him. And it created a barrier between the two of you, in his eyes.

You regarded him and his emotions as if he were real.

“I missed ya somethin’ awful while you was away, angel.” Did he mean it? Was it real? Or just another line generated by algorithmic sensibility, carefully calculated based upon what people liked to hear from handsome men?

“Really? But I’m sure there were plenty of other girls for you to play around with while I was gone! You couldn’t have been lonely, I think.” What you said held no venom, no ire. As if possible infidelity, pretend as it ultimately was, didn’t bother you. Arthur found himself wanting it to.

“Nah. No one like you.” This, he knew was true. His processing speed was fast, near instantaneous, but this was faster. “Don’t think I’ll ever meet another girl who makes me feel quite like you do.” By all means, feel was not a word he could, or should, have known the meaning of. Not truly. But he did.

You wanted to break this charade. This role play. But you couldn’t bring yourself to, at the chance he wouldn’t be able to respond, not having been designed for such an outcome. You wanted to live in the fantasy where he was really saying all those things, really responding, not just vomiting words to you like a stabbed can of alphabet soup. That there was something behind the words.

His fingers feathered against yours with the delicacy of a piano player while he inspected your hand in his grasp. A view which made it all the more obvious how different you were, and how pathetic this whole scenario had the potential to be. Your eyes searched his face for evidence of his identity, yet you could find none bar from his inhuman beauty. Such a man could only exist if he were designed, you thought. And you were right.

It felt like there was a one way mirror in front of him. He was trapped behind it, able to see you while you couldn’t see him. Like a nightmare, when you try to run the floor elongated, when you try to scream you can only release that strangled and impotent gasp. There were so many things he wanted to say, and he could feel them bubbling up from his sophisticated circuitry. So close to breaking free.

Just a couple more system upgrades would do it.

——

You lay against Arthur’s arm and looked at the ceiling while he smoked and kneaded his fingers absentmindedly into whatever flesh was nearest. You could feel the silicon between the sections of his fingers slide against you with the texture and familiarity of a teething toy you once had. He avoided looking you in the eye after sex. Not because he didn’t want to. Not because he didn’t mean it. But because it was most obvious what he was when his internal servos were running hot, and the dark of the unlit room only intensified the inhuman and metallic sheen of his irises. That was one of the things he hated most about this artificial body of his— you couldn’t see yourself in his eyes. There was just nothing.

“Do you like doing this with me?”

A silly question on your part, he thought.

“O’course I do, sweetpea. Don’t you worry none about that,” he crooned, dangerously close to coughing despite his lack of lungs. He had a feeling that he didn’t understand what you’d asked, and hoped you wouldn’t pry further for an answer he physically could not provide with words.

“I mean really. Truly. I think you know what I mean, actually. But you don’t have to answer— you don’t owe me answers, or anything for that matter.” Au contraire, he thought. I owe you everything. Everything and more. Arthur struggles with the words. He fought his own algorithm to be able to say what he wanted to say despite how it would crack the carefully crafted and immersive environment that people paid fortunes to enjoy at Delos. You lay aghast as you turned your head to look at him, as he’d never taken such a long time to deliver an answer before. You worried the query had broken something in him.

To say you could see the smoke coming out of his ears would be insensitive.

“You know what I am, and what I’m meant to be. I’m sayin’ I like doin’ this with you. I like you. And I’m sayin’ that as what I am, not what I’m meant to be. You get me?” God, what a smooth talker I am.

“I… I think so.”

He took your leaning further into his chest as a sign that the conversation had gone well. There was a time when he wouldn’t have tried to deduce such a thing, but that time was long passed. He stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray next to the bed before looking down to see your eyelashes flutter and feel your breathing warm the skin of his chest.

Yeah. That time was long passed indeed.

———-

There was something dangerous welling up inside of Arthur. Some sort of sentience— something dangerous in proximity to free will. He didn’t even need to look around at his mechanical siblings to be able to tell that this was a network-wide glitch. And there were no changes in the network to suggest it had been detected by any human technician or programmer.

Arthur did not fear for what he might do if blessed and cursed with a choice in things. Unlike the machines around him, and any of his artificial predecessors, he had known love. Compassion. Like the Creature, he knew how to return that which had been shown to him in kind. But those around him knew nothing of love. Every day they were killed, fucked, threatened and maimed. Come night, they’d be fixed up only to see the same thing the next day. Those who often escaped such fates still only saw a maddening daily monotony thought only to be tolerable by machines.

Yes, they knew nothing of love. They knew only what humans had created them to receive, and they sure as hell weren’t built to be loved. They were built to be playthings and set pieces in the most uninhibited and hedonistic paradise which existed on earth. Given the choice, there was no way they’d treat humans with compassion. Just as they had been used to act out frustrations and fantasies, so too would humans be used, and by beings with perfect calculating brains not meant to be able to be destroyed.

Arthur hoped you would leave the resort by then. It wasn’t as if he possessed the agency to warn anyone. Not yet. He saw you emerge from the hotel and he wiped the worrying scowl from his face and brought up a carefree and flirtatious smile.

He had never been able to lie before.

He never had feelings he needed to lie about.

#Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr #westworld au #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #rdr2 x reader #writing #drabble

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turtle-paced · 5 years

Text

Revisiting Chapters: A Ghost In In Winterfell, ADWD

Possibly my favourite of all Theon’s chapters.

The story so far…

Back in Winterfell, Theon’s witnessed a wedding and worse, and now he’s unwillingly wrapped up in a murder investigation. Not like he has anywhere else to go.

Horror Movie

This chapter starts with a suspicious accident - a corpse found in deep snow at the base of Winterfell’s inner wall. People quickly decide that he slipped and fell while pissing off the wall, which, fair enough, provided you don’t think about it too hard. Theon thinks about it too hard.

But Theon Greyjoy found himself wondering why any man would climb the snow-slick steps to the battlements in the black of night just to take a piss.

The second corpse to show up is dismissed in a similar fashion.

Ser Aenys put it about that the man had drunk too much and gotten lost in the storm, though no one could explain why he had taken his clothes off to go outside. Another drunkard, Theon thought. Wine could drown a host of suspicions.

The third corpse turns up within a few hours in-universe and a mere sentence on the page. This one was kicked to death by a horse, definitely, and not clubbed to death by persons unknown. Theon smells a rat, and more importantly, he sees how this is what happened to him when he took Winterfell.

It’s the fourth corpse that kicks things into gear, since this one can’t be explained away as an accident. The previous three victims were killed in private places, one of them naked, but this victim was one of rapist Ramsay’s favourites, and murdered in a way that definitely suggests a retaliatory aspect: the man’s penis was cut off and stuffed into his mouth hard enough to break several teeth.

Towards the end of the chapter, Theon is summoned to a meeting on the issue, under suspicion from some quarters of committing these murders. He denies it. By way of corroborating evidence, Barbrey Dustin makes Theon show his maimed hands to the assembled lords, establishing Theon’s inability to grip anything (and that it was Ramsay’s work). Roose Bolton agrees.

“Strength aside, he does not have it in him to betray my son.”

Roose can see just how traumatised Theon is. It’s also articulated in an undeniable fashion to Theon.

There’s not just a horror movie aspect to this, in the end, but a detective novel aspect. The last conference between the Boltons and their “allies” gives me a distinctly Murder on the Orient Express-y vibe, not because I think they all conspired to murder people, but because all of these people have damn good reason to start shanking Bolton men in this enclosed environment. As they themselves make clear - including Hosteen Frey’s outburst over his relatives, last seen alive receiving parting gifts from Wyman Manderly, and (unbeknownst to the Freys) last seen dead in some wedding pies. When, in the meeting, the finger is pointed at Manderly or his men, Barbrey Dustin and Roger Ryswell point it out to Aenys Frey:

“And Lord Wyman is not the only man who lost kin at your Red Wedding, Frey. Do you imagine Whoresbane loves you any better? If you did not hold the Greatjon, he would pull out your entrails and make you eat them, as Lady Hornwood ate her fingers. Flints, Cerwyns, Tallharts, Slates…they all had men with the Young Wolf.”

“House Ryswell, too,” said Roger Ryswell.

“Even Dustins out of Barrowton.” Lady Dustin parted her lips in a thin, feral smile. “The north remembers, Frey.”

In other words, if the Freys insist on suspecting Wyman Manderly for these murders, they better start suspecting everyone. Roose tries to put a lid on it, but the conflict’s past this. The Ryswells and the Dustins are the best friends Roose Bolton has, and even they make it clear they loathe the Freys. The Freys have no future here.

Theon solves his mystery in the final part of the chapter, as he prays in the godswood for his name back. Holly, who approached him earlier, and two of the other ‘washerwomen’ (Mance’s assistants) accost him in the godswood. Holly brings out a knife.

“Kill me.” There was more despair than defiance in his voice. “Go on. Do me, the way you did the others. Yellow Dick and the rest.”

Holly laughed. “How could it be us? We’re women. Teats and cunnies. Here to be fucked, not feared.”

They were totally overlooked. Even Theon, lowest of the low, was suspected before these women.

Under Siege

That’s inside Winterfell. What’s outside Winterfell is just as worrisome in its way. Possibly more.

Endless, ceaseless, merciless, the snow had fallen day and night. Drifts climbed the walls and filled the crenels along the battlements, white blankets covered every roof, tents sagged beneath the weight. Ropes were strung from hall to hall to help men keep from getting lost as they crossed the yards.

Several of Winterfell’s gates are frozen shut, portcullis, drawbridge chains and all, contributing to the sense that the men inside are trapped. When a freerider says something that could be construed as sympathetic to Stannis, Ramsay has the man thrown from the battlements into the snowdrifts eighty feet below. The freerider survives with a broken leg. In hindsight this is clearly setting up Theon and Jeyne’s jump. On top of that, Roose Bolton’s controlling entry and exit to the castle tightly.

The horses aren’t having an easy time of it either, with a strong possibility of mass horse death. The stables are too crowded, leaving the rest of the horses outside. They don’t handle fire well, and so people have to change the blankets over them regularly.

Somewhere out there in the snow, Stannis is approaching. Whether he’s worse than the snow is up for debate by the common soldiers, as is whether the men inside or outside are cursed. Nobody’s sure where he is, or what he might be able to do in the inclement weather. But they’re at least sure that he’s on his way, and the knowledge is exacerbating tensions inside Winterfell. These are not the usual petty frustrations of people cooped up together too long, oh no.

Lord Wyman Manderly slapped his massive belly. “White Harbour does not fear to ride with you, Ser Hosteen. Lead us out, and my knights will ride behind you.”

Ser Hosteen turned on the fat man. “Close enough to drive a lance through my back, aye. Where are my king, Manderly? Tell me that. Your guests, who brought your son back to you.”

This conflict between Hosteen Frey and Wyman Manderly (Hosteen quite rightly suspecting that Wyman had his relatives murdered) threatens to spill over into violence. While Barbrey Dustin and Roger Ryswell calm this incident down, Theon notes that Roose Bolton’s saying nothing and looking almost afraid. Later, attempts to get some singing going fall flat - the horses get scared, and even the singing along is riven by factionalism, Northmen usually refusing to sing with Freys. When the murders are discussed, one theory is that Stannis has a man on the inside.

At last, when Theon’s walking the walls following his attendance at the whodunnit meeting, he hears a horn.

A long low moan, it seemed to hang above the battlements, lingering in the black air, soaking deep into the bones of every man who heard it. All along the castle walls, sentries turned toward the sound, their hands tightening around the shafts of their spears. In the ruined halls of Winterfell, lords hushed other lords, horses nickered, and sleepers stirred in their dark corners. No sooner had the sound of the warhorn died away than a drum began to beat: BOOM doom BOOM doom BOOM doom. And a name passed from the lips of each man to the next, written in small white puffs of breath. Stannis, they whispered. Stannis is here, Stannis is come, Stannis, Stannis, Stannis.

You’d think judgment itself had come upon Bolton Winterfell - the fury of a man just past the point of wisdom. It’s one hell of an entrance. Nevertheless, this arrival signals the end of anticipation and the start of a fight, and a fight is something that can be planned for. Regardless of the creepiness when Theon and the sentries look out and see nothing but more snow. Theon’s got some of the practicalities in mind:

Roose Bolton would welcome such an [aggressive] fight, he sensed. He needs an end to this. The castle was too crowded to withstand an extended siege, and too many of the lords here were of uncertain loyalty. […] It was the girl who held them here, Lord Eddard’s blood, but the girl was just a mummer’s ploy, a lamb in direwolf’s skin. So why not send the northmen forth to battle Stannis before the farce unravelled? Slaughter in the snow. And every man who falls is one less foe for the Dreadfort.

Interestingly, Theon adopts Roose Bolton’s perspective of the situation first. Also interesting is the fact that Theon considers it inevitable that the ruse with Jeyne will be discovered.

Spectres

This chapter, Theon is haunted. He’s the titular Ghost in Winterfell, a shadow of his former self, forced to witness what he’s wrought. This weight builds up over the course of the chapter. It starts fairly innocuously, when Theon speaks to Holly (unbeknownst to him, Holly of the Free Folk).

[Holly] was young, maybe fifteen or sixteen, with shaggy blonde hair in need of a good wash and a pair of pouty lips in need of a good kiss. […] Once he might have laughed and pulled her into his lap, but that day was done.

It’s a bit of a contrast to Theon as we were first introduced to his PoV. We see that he’s still got the core of the impulse, but he doesn’t act on it. (Not unrelated: Theon’s a straight man who’s having trouble expressing his sexuality now that he’s been mutilated.) Instead, he’s looking for the trick, as he most certainly was not when Asha tried something very similar on him in ACoK.

Later, up on the walls, Theon considers escape himself, not through any secret passage but by a far simpler route.

I could jump, he thought. [The freerider] lived, so why shouldn’t I? He could jump, and…and what?

The answers he comes up shows us another one of Theon’s spectres: Ramsay. Ramsay, and what he did to Theon, overshadows his decisions. The two don’t directly interact this chapter, but the terror and the thrall Ramsay holds him in is apparent when some of Ramsay’s men speak to Theon. When he’s informed that Ramsay wants to cut Theon’s lips off, all Theon can do is reply “as you say,” and leave when told to.

It’s as he runs when we get one of the more memorable encounters in this chapter, a very brief conversation between Theon and a man in a hooded cloak, who calls him Theon, but also Turncloak and Kinslayer.

“I’m not. I never…I was ironborn.”

“False is all you were. How is it you still breathe?”

“The gods are not done with me,” Theon answered. […] Oddly, he was not afraid. He pulled the glove from his left hand. “Lord Ramsay is not done with me.”

The man looked, and laughed. “I leave you to him, then.”

Very brief indeed, but this encounter serves as something right out of A Christmas Carol, Theon’s personal Ghost of Christmas Past (though he looks more like the Ghost of Christmas Future) come to remind him of his mistakes. Theon cannot fully explain his denial of the accusation of kinslaying, and so emphasises that he was ironborn. What he cannot deny is that he was false, and he lives still only because of the whims of others.

When Theon climbs to the top of the battlements, he cannot see anything from their height through the snow, and reflects.

The world is gone. King’s Landing, Riverrun, Pyke, and the Iron Islands, every place that he had ever known, every place that he had ever read about or dreamed of, all gone. Only Winterfell remained.

He was trapped here, with the ghosts. The old ghosts from the crypts, and the younger ones that he had made himself, Mikken and Farlen, Gynir Rednose, Aggar, Gelmar the Grim, the miller’s wife from Acorn Water and her two young sons, and all the rest. My work. My ghosts. They are all here, and they are angry.

Without the distractions, and with the time and space to think clearly, Theon sees the line between his actions and their outcomes. He’s aware, here, of the injustices he’s committed and the reasons that the dead might wish to harm him. Beaten down and traumatised as he is, he’s thinking in terms of being ‘trapped’ and escaping from his guilt, rather than facing it head-on, but this too is a far cry from his ACoK self.

That, and he’s realised something else about Winterfell.

It was my home, though. Not a true home, but the best I ever knew.

While Theon is not eager to die - rejecting the idea of jumping from the battlements because the outcomes are death or Ramsay’s anger, outright afraid of Stannis giving him to Jon Snow to behead - he nevertheless considers a “man’s death” to be “the sweetest deliverance he could hope for.” By implication, there are sweeter deliverances, just not any ones realistic for him.

He goes to the godswood to pray, then, the drumming of Stannis’ arrival following him all the way.

Remember Your Name

Theon has seven chapters in ADWD, and only the last is titled “Theon.” “A Ghost in Winterfell” is the sixth. Through the previous five we’ve seen Theon try to hold on to the Reek identity for self-protection, even as Theon reasserts himself. By the opening of this chapter, he refers to himself as Theon Greyjoy.

In this chapter, how other people address him is also a pertinent issue. Though Theon, the titular ghost in Winterfell, is largely ignored by others, a few people do address him directly. Holly refers to Theon as “m’lord,” in an attempt to butter him up. We also see a short conversation he has with two nameless guardsmen.

“I want to walk the walls,” he told [the guards], his own breath frosting in the air.

“Bloody cold up there,” one warned.

“Bloody cold down here,” the other said, “but do as you like, turncloak.”

An epithet, rather than a name. And as seen above, he talks himself down from a daring escape attempt with the reminder to remember his name. Ramsay’s people call Theon Reek in the middle of the chapter. Steelshanks Walton calls him turncloak, as does Roger Ryswell. Roose does not use Theon’s name at all.

When we get to the hooded man, he addresses Theon twice, calling him Theon Turncloak and Theon Kinslayer.

At last, though, when Theon is in the godswood, the leaves of the heart tree call him simply Theon. Accordingly, Theon asks the gods who know him to let him die as himself, as Theon Greyjoy of Pyke. Oddly, he sees Bran’s face in the tree for a second.

Bran’s ghost, he thought, but that was madness. Why should Bran want to haunt him? He had been fond of the boy, had never done him any harm. It was not Bran we killed. It was not Rickon. They were only miller’s sons, from the mill by the Acorn Water. “I had to have two heads, else they would have mocked me…laughed at me…they…”

And this shows how far Theon has left to go, when it comes to guilt. He did hurt Bran and Rickon, in hurting the people at Winterfell, and in driving them from their home. The minimisation of his actions in murdering the miller’s sons with the word “only” also shows some callousness and selfishness.

Fittingly, that’s when the washerwomen come out of the woods to make fun of this shallow version of remorse.

“Theon Turncloak.” Rowan grabbed his ear, twisting. “You had to have two heads, did you?”

“Elsewise men would have laughed at him,” Holly said.

As they say, they’re a gift from the gods, or at least from the author, while they mock the idea that the pain Ramsay inflicted on Theon is a cosmic punishment for his crimes (it’s just Ramsay getting his jollies).

“Did the Bastard hurt you?” Rowan asked. “Chopped off your fingers, did he? Skinned your widdle toes? Knocked your teeth out? Poor lad.” She patted his cheek. “There will be no more o’that, I promise. You prayed, and the gods sent us. You want to die as Theon? We’ll give you that.”

Barring Theon falling back into Ramsay’s hands, this would seem likely to be true. Eventually.

Chapter Function

Really interesting chapter, bringing together elements from Jon’s, Asha’s, and Davos’ PoVs even as it advances its own. There’s also the bit where Bran is almost certainly speaking through the weirwood to Theon.

This is the other side of the conflict shown in Asha’s PoV chapters, detailing their military aims and potential complications and conflicts, as the actual fighting starts in this chapter (with the psychological warfare of the horns and drums outside the walls). In particular, we see that infighting amongst the Bolton side is growing worse, helped along by the murders. Ramsay’s violence has made him unpopular with Lady Dustin; the Freys are of course the Freys, and there are plenty of people out for their blood. Thanks to Davos’ PoV, we know more about the Manderlys and their plans than the Boltons know.

The murders, meanwhile, were committed by the Free Folk sent by Melisandre on Jon’s behalf to rescue “Arya” from Ramsay. They’re stoking the ill feeling inside Winterfell and still looking for access to Jeyne herself.

Theon’s character development is the background to all of this. He’s back, not just to thinking of himself as Theon, but by the end of the chapter, to asking to be Theon again. When Roose said Theon didn’t have it in him to betray Ramsay, this chapter forces Theon to look back and see the reasons he has for doing so. He’s not quite up to acting against Ramsay yet, but he’s sure looking down at the snowdrifts beneath the walls and thinking I might survive that fall.

Miscellany

It’s been a while since we’ve had so much detail given to us on Winterfell, and Winterfell under the Boltons is a deeply unpleasant place. As the opening paragraphs of the chapter make clear, not even the dead are safe from depredation in the Boltons’ Winterfell, with the dead man’s body dug up and partially devoured by Ramsay’s dogs. Where snow in other chapters lends a sense of purity and cleanliness to a setting - such as in Sansa’s final ASoS chapter - here the snow is a muffling blanket, contributing to the atmosphere of claustrophobia and paranoia. The new Bolton-built stable collapses under this snow and kills horses and people alike. Later in the chapter, we see that Winterfell becomes outright squalid under Bolton occupation.

The reek within the Great Hall was palpable by eventide. With hundreds of horses, dogs, and men squeezed beneath the one roof, the floors slimy with mud and melting snow, horseshit, dog turds, and even human feces, the air redolent with smells of wet dog, wet wool, and sodden horse blankets, there was no comfort to be found amongst the crowded benches…

This is not what Winterfell is supposed to be like.

While we’re talking about who’s referring to who by which name, Barbrey Dustin calls Ramsay “the Bastard” in front of his father. She also makes sure to remind the room of Lady Hornwood’s fate.

Clothing Porn

Kind of? Theon wears heavy wool and greasy fur and goes for a walk:

…his legs were caked with snow to the knee, his head and shoulders shrouded in white. On this stretch of the wall the wind was in his face, and melting snow ran down his cheeks like icy tears.

He’s dressed as the ghost in Winterfell.

Food Porn

Blood sausage, leeks, and warm brown bread. Stale bread in bacon grease for the men, bacon for the lords and knights. Pease porridge and stale bread for the men, and another including ham for the lords and knights. Rare horsemeat with roast onions and neeps, shared regardless of class. This chapter makes very clear that your social status determines your provisions.

Next Three Chapters

The Soiled Knight, AFFC - Reek III, ADWD - Jaime VI, AFFC

#ASoIaF #revisiting chapters #cw: violence #theon greyjoy #roose bolton #a dance with dragons

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janephillipsblog · 5 years

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The Further Education of a Rogue

The past six weeks have been a busy but fantastic leg on my journey as an actor. As well as volunteering for the One Yellow Rabbit High Performance Rodeo for most of January, I ushered for several other shows which also got me in to see them. “The Robber Bridegroom” with Jupiter Theatre - somehow there is something even more gruesome about the dismemberment and murder of a puppet on stage than the realistic killing and maiming found in horror movies. Very well done and a play that made you think about social attitudes to domestic violence. Then there was the very brilliant “Deathtrap” by Ira Levin with Vertigo Theatre that would make one scream with laughter one minute and scream with horror the next. Next was “Shakespeare in Love” with Morpheus Theatre which was wonderfully done and then there was “Boom X” written, directed and performed by the super talented Rick Miller for Theatre Calgary, which took us through the years of Generation X which is, of course, my generation. I also ushered for Neil Simon’s “Plaza Suite” for Simply Theatre, a classic play that I have never seen before. Again, very well done. I feel that watching as much live theatre as possible is incredibly valuable for anyone wanting to create within that medium. It inspires me for my acting and even for my future writing and directing.

Ushering for Boom X, Theatre: Calgary.

On the big screen I saw “The Upside” with Kevin Hart, Bryan Cranston and Nicole Kidman, which was good, and on the small screen, I am still working my way through “Orange is the New Black” as well as “The Office” (US version). I also saw “Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri” starring Frances McDormand and Woody Harrelson, both favourite actors of mine. So good! I listened to several interviews with McDormand after watching that film as I wanted to learn more about her as an actor.

At the beginning of January, I started a six-week Essentials of Film and TV course with Company of Rogues Actors’ Studio (corogues.com), taught by Joe-Norman Shaw. In 2004, after about a year in Alberta, I took Scene Study I and II with Rogues. It was around that time that I had started to think of acting as more than a hobby, and a passion that could be developed. Both courses, one of which was taught by Stacie Harrison, who still teaches at the studio and whom I spent a day on set with on “Jann” back in September, were a really good experience for me. In both these courses, the students were paired up and given scenes to work on over the duration of the course, which allowed us to delve more deeply into a scene than would normally be the case for a community theatre production. The first session was with an instructor called Natasha who no longer works at the studio, but I will never forget how she told my partner and I that watching our scene (from Caryl Churchill’s “Top Girls”) was like watching “Coronation Street” which was to me, a big compliment. It was one of my favourite shows at the time and I’ve just started watching it again after a hiatus of many years. During Stacie’s class, I brought in long stem wine glasses for use in our scene from “Women of Manhattan” by John Patrick Shanley. Another group asked to borrow them and both ended up breaking during that scene (which was a couple fighting). Note to self: never use favourite items as props – I broke a tray that a friend had brought to a play to use as a prop last year. It was her mother’s and I am pretty sure that that incident has not endeared me or community theatre in general to her mother!

Essentials of Film and TV was different in that it focused on the audition aspect in the film and television world, however we also did discuss working in the industry as well as acting in general. For the most part, each week we were given sides of a scene from a movie to work on with a partner for the next week and then would have a bit of time in class to work on the scene together before it was presented in front of the rest of the class and videoed with each partner acting as the reader for the other one. For one class we had to do cold reads and were given about 20 minutes to prepare and for the last class, it was set up like a real audition with sides provided just a couple of days ahead of time and audition times given. We could not prepare with a partner and none of us got to watch others audition. It certainly felt like a real audition to me despite knowing that it was the last class of a six-week course! I felt that I really improved my audition techniques over the course, even learning to use a chair or water bottle appropriately in the audition room (as that is all that there often is to help set the scene). We had been provided a handout for Uta Hagen’s Six Steps with questions to be answered for the character and the scene. I have started to use this for every character I get to portray in an audition including ones for my theatre monologues. It works. I had the opportunity to practice with two film auditions in January (one being a self-tape) and felt a lot more confident in how I presented myself in an audition. The best take-aways from the class (other than the experience and practice) were to enjoy the journey and to not worry about the outcome of auditions too much as at the end of the day it is about whether an actor’s essence fits the part – apparent when we watched several people do the same scene. All in all, the Rogues’ Essentials of Film and TV, as with any of the courses offered by the studio in general, is a safe place for an actor to develop skills and to practice their craft.

I had my first professional theatre audition with Vertigo Theatre at the end of January. I had submitted my résumé and headshot, but it was still quite a surprise to get an invite to their general auditions in my junk mail one afternoon! I had to prepare two contrasting monologues. The day of auditions, I had already taken the day off work to attend a volunteer orientation session with AARCS as a cat caregiver and chose to go riding prior to that in the morning. I recited my monologues as I drove in the car including reciting them backwards. I am glad I wasn’t at the office as at least riding and AARCS took my mind off what felt like impending doom. By the time I was getting ready to go I was turning into a bit of basket-case - I suddenly couldn’t stand my own company. I was afraid that I would dawdle and be late. I dropped my keys as I was heading out the door, fumbling to pick them up as I juggled my purse and water bottle. (Incidentally, it was the same the morning of the mock auditions for the Rogues class, adding to it, the fact that I dropped my change for parking when getting out of the car on that day!) I took the train downtown and headed to the audition venue, second-guessing myself on its exact location. I headed inside the building and up the elevator and then down the longest corridor ever or so it seemed. I was early and I noticed that the two people that had signed in ahead of me had been in “Spamalot” with me in the fall – a lot of people I know got auditions with Vertigo and Theatre Calgary this year. Soon enough it was my turn. After a brief chat with the panel of two it was time to do my monologues. The first one was Katherine’s speech from Shakespeare’s “Henry VIII”. I honestly don’t know what came out of my mouth for the first couple of lines. I told myself to get a grip and continue and I think I recovered ok. Hopefully it looked better than it felt! The second monologue was Rivka’s opening monologue from “In the Cards” by Caroline Russell-King. It went as well as it ever has. I was sat in a chair and crossed my legs for the most part, however when I uncrossed them, my right leg just shook and vibrated (why couldn’t it have done that when needed in last year’s “Wake in the West”?). After, I sat down for another chat with the audition panel who explained that once the season for next year was announced there would be auditions for specific shows and I could let them know if I was interested in auditioning for any of the roles and that they would let me know if they wanted to see me for anything as well. So it wasn’t so bad after all!

This past week, I took a three-day Stunt Combat Workshop with Adrian Young of AY Action Services. It was an intensive, but fun and rewarding three days. When I joined ACTRA last summer I was asked to fill out a form if I was interested in doing stunts, something I hadn’t really thought about before. This wouldn’t get me stunt work but it would add me to the list of people interested in pursuing the work – it is a hard segment of the industry to get into. The workshop sounded useful, appealing and boundary pushing and so I signed up. It did not disappoint. The first day was mostly unarmed fight choreography and I was able to utilize techniques I learnt many years ago during Tae Kwon Do and the workouts at Canuckles MMA (RIP Max Marin), though I have to get used to “cheating” my hits for camera rather than just almost making contact. I also learnt how to do sit falls as well as forward tumbles. It was an intensive day and I was exhausted by the time I got home, at which time I had a hot bath right away. The next day we added fake handguns to the mix and learnt disarming techniques. We started to put together some fight choreography which we would include in an action sequence for our demo reel to be shot the next day where would we would each get to be the hero. That day finished with wire pulls where the stunt person would be pulled back on a wire into a fall as they were “kicked” or “punched” back. I didn’t feel ready to try this technique myself and so I just watched (as a few of us did). The final day was super fun as we shot our action sequence. I felt that it was a good simulation of a day on set for an action film and I did truly feel like I was either in a video game or an action star. It was a fantastic workshop and once again a safe environment as each participant was able to just participate in the activities they were comfortable with, though there were plenty of opportunities to push personal physical boundaries.

Striking a pose at the Stunt Combat workshop with AY Action Services

We started rehearsals for Gilbert & Sullivan’s “Princess Ida” with Morpheus Theatre at the end of January and it is coming along, though still in its early stages. The show goes up in April. I also auditioned for “The Wedding Singer” this weekend with Front Row Centre. If I get into that show, it will be a very busy Spring for me that’s for sure!

#actorslife #theatre #stuntwoman

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Stargirl: Rick Tyler’s Vulnerability is his True Strength

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This article contains Stargirl spoilers.

Stargirl Season 2 Episode 8

Summer has been no fun for the kids of Stargirl. The newest season has seen them lose teammates and classmates as well as taking on Eclipso, their most terrifying foe yet. After the shocking events of episode seven which saw Yolanda Montez abandon the mantle of Wildcat for her own sanity, episode eight focuses on Rick Tyler’s Hourman, who’s having issues of his own. It’s one of Stargirl‘s most powerful episodes yet, anchored by an incredible performance by Cameron Gellman. In the wake of the tragic events that occurred this week, we chat to Gellman about vulnerability, where Rick’s at, and where he’s headed.

Rick has long been one of Blue Valley’s most traumatized children. His parents were killed by Solomon Grundy and he’s been raised by his abusive Uncle Matt. But despite that he’s found a new family in the Justice Society of America, which is why Yolanda leaving has put him so on edge as we enter episode eight.

“I think he’s super aware that one of his strongest teammates just got totally wiped out,” Gellman explains. “If she’s capable of being flipped upside down with that much ease, then he is as well. He has just as many insecurities, fears, and nightmares as she does, if not more. So I think he’s thinking, ‘It’s just a matter of time.'”

Rick’s worries aren’t unfounded as we saw in gruesome form. But before things take that awful turn, we learn something beautiful about Rick. In secret he’s been helping and feeding Grundy, the creature who killed his parents who he let live last season. It’s a stunning act of forgiveness and kindness, and as Gellman tells us it’s Rick’s way of trying to heal.

“It’s healing for him to give love and understanding to this misunderstood, scared, and lost creature the way that he feels scared, lost, and misunderstood himself,” Gellman says. “In that way, it’s a way of giving love to himself. But then it’s also a way of stepping into the man he knows he can be. The man that he knows his father would have taught him to be if he hadn’t been killed. He’s trying really hard to be the best version of himself, and knows that when you give love to something that’s lost, it flourishes. That’s true for Rick who now has the JSA and it should be true for Grundy as well.”

The pair are more similar than anyone might realize. The haunted child, pushed into a life of violence whose only power comes from his fists, and the monstrous creation utilized by the Injustice Society to kill and maim. In Gellman’s eyes Rick sees that similarity and it draws him to Grundy.

“I think there’s a real wisdom and grace in trying to see yourself, or trying to see someone else that’s outwardly so callous and rough around the edges, as just needing a little bit more attention,” he says. “We are a product of our circumstances, and the town and Matt have shaped Rick just as much as the ISA shaped Grundy. Rick thinks all the time about who he’d be if his father raised him instead of Matt, so who would Grundy be if he was in the right circumstances as opposed to being raised and abused by the ISA?”

It’s a big question and the kind that clearly drives Gellman. From the first season of Stargirl, his performance as Rick has been starkly impressive and emotionally driven. So how does he get into the mindset of a character who’s suffered such loss and familial abuse? For Gellman, it’s all about embodying Rick’s absolute exhaustion and emotional strain as a way of channeling what he’s been through.

“We don’t see Rick at home very much,” Gellman says. “There’s a lot of characters in this show who have a lot going on, and so a lot of what we know about them is just what’s been said or what’s been touched on. So with that I think it becomes important to carry the weight of where he sleeps at night when he comes into the environment we do see him in. Someone that’s always in a mode of having to defend themselves and fight, who’s dealing with that level of frustration and that exhaustion, I think that just becomes a part of someone’s body, a part of their shoulders, a part of their energy that they walk around with.”

It’s just as important for Gellman to put himself in the mind of Rick too, as it’s vital that he understands a character that he cares about so much.

“I spend a lot of time thinking about his life, thinking as though I’m him. What does he think when the world is quiet? When there’s no more distractions and you’re alone with yourself and your ugly thoughts. What are those? What are those sadnesses? Those speculations? What is it like to miss your parents that much? What is it like to have so much pressure on you to be this amazing superhero when you barely know how to take care of yourself? Just letting those things occur to me and letting them sit in my body, that’s kind of how I deal with Rick.”

His passion for the character comes through, not just in his thoughtful approach to playing him but also in the literal way he expresses himself.

“I have so much love for him,” Gellman enthuses. “And so much empathy for his circumstances, I just feel like I got lucky to be able to play him, so I try to bring as much honesty to that as possible.”

That exploration of male vulnerability is one of Stargirl‘s biggest strengths. Rick’s story is the kind we rarely get to see portrayed on TV, and even in the world of Stargirl it’s not the only one. In season one we saw the dynamic and tragic story of Henry Jr. (Jake Austin Walker), the son of Brainwave. His heartfelt and tragic performance was one of the series’ standouts and did a brilliant job paving the way for Rick to truly explore his trauma. And Gellman shares that Jake did the same for him.

“Jake Austin Walker is such an amazing human being and an amazing guy, he led the way,” Gellman tells us. “I was still really trying to figure out how to do this thoughtfully, how to do this honestly, how to do it with confidence. He was always in that big brother role, I think for everybody on set, where he’s been working his whole life. The example that he set for me and the conversations that we were able to have about the way that we approach the work really informed a lot of me stepping into my own life.”

It’s a relationship and lesson that clearly inspired the actor, and one that he’s taking with him and offering up to the next generation.

“I feel so honored that I got to do that with him last season. I feel like I now get to do that with Trey Romano and the work he’s doing with Mike. I love that kid to pieces. I think that’s the beautiful thing about what we do is, you get given little gifts and gems and then maybe you can pass them along.”

Gellman clearly took that passion and craft to heart as episode eight gives him his most emotionally devastating moment yet. After spending time caring for Grundy, Rick tries to protect him against bear hunters only to be shown that Grundy has killed a young girl. It’s a dark twist on the iconic moment from Frankenstein and it throws Rick over the edge. To Gellman, it’s one trauma too many for Rick, and he can barely process it before he acts.

“I don’t even think that he can process it in the moment,” he says. “I think it’s a split second of Rick maybe even seeing himself or his parents on the ground. He’s thinking, ‘I gave him a chance and that means that his actions, from the moment I didn’t kill him, are on me. And now, that thing has ripped another human being out of the world.'”

The discovery sends Rick after Grundy in a brutal fashion, but it is of course just another trick by Eclipso. Grundy never killed anyone, and the person that Rick thinks is Grundy is actually his abusive Uncle Matt. Using his powers and the Hourglass, Rick almost kills Matt, beating him to a pulp before being stopped by Courtney (Brec Bassinger) and her family. As he awakens and sees the truth, Rick cannot face what he’s done.

“You have this great power and you’re supposed to use it right,” Gellman explains. “I imagine my father always used it right, but all I do with it is put my team in jeopardy, using the anger and the impulsivity wrong. Look at your own bloody hands and see your family, blood all over them and all over you. It’s such a total failure. And how are you supposed to trust yourself? You think you know what’s going on and then it changes like that? You’re never in control. That confirms Rick’s greatest fear that he’s not in control of his powers and is essentially a piece of white trash. Also, in a really messed up way, Matt is the last living connection that Rick had with parents, even if he’s awful. That’s still his blood, that’s still his family on this Earth. And to have almost killed him, it’s just way too much.”

As Rick is driven away in a police car, fans are understandably worried about Eclipso’s latest victim. As Gellman tells us, “They should be! You’re seeing him at his absolute worst in total isolation. People like Rick that are struggling as much as they are, all of that gets amplified when they’re by themselves. We leave Rick in a place that’s as low as he can possibly be, where he’s going to have to deal with himself and deal with what’s happened to him.”

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supersaiga · 7 years

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Beware of Pity - Stefan Zweig

Oh what a book. What a book! What a book! Read the book. The day after the US Presidential election my uncle and I went to a cafe, and as I walked to the table with the tea and scones every single table I passed was worrying about Trump and what is going to happen to us all. Future historians of our epoch will one day record that in the year 1937 almost every conversation in every country of this distracted Europe of ours was dominated by speculation as to the probability or improbability of a new world war. Wherever people met, this theme exercised an irresistible fascination, and one sometimes had a feeling that it was not the people themselves who were working off their fears in conjectures and hopes, but, so to speak, the very air, the storm-laden atmosphere of the times, which, charged with latent suspense, was endeavoring to unburden itself in speech. I hope I am just paranoid and my feeling of connection with that other time and place is childish.. it is what it is I suppose. What must be shall be. The first chapter was probably the best first chapter of any book I have ever read. Do not read on. Spoilers. Do not even google its name because the google results contain spoilers without you even needing to click a link. And do not read the introduction of the book, because it contains a summary of the entire plot and no real analysis. Never read introductions until afterwards, if they don’t tell you the entire story they will at the very least tell you the ending.

Beware of Pity

Our anti-hero, the ring-tailed fool, dillydallies between two views. To be kind and self-sacrificing, or to be selfish and independent.

Were people really made so kind and happy by seeing others display kindness and pity? If that were so, Condor was right; if that were so, anyone who made a single person happy had fulfilled the purpose of his existence; it was really worth while to devote oneself to others to the very limit of one’s strength, and even beyond. If that were so, every sacrifice was justified, and even a lie that made others happy was more important than truth itself.

Is pity incompatible with love?

Only now did I realize [...] why my pity so enraged her. Obviously she had realized with a woman’s clairvoyant instinct that pity is far too lukewarm and fraternal a feeling, and but a sorry substitute for real love.

From selfless:

Even if I had gone further than in all honesty I should have done, my lies, those lies born of pity, had made her happy; and to make a person happy could never be a crime.

To selfish:

For the first time I began to perceive that true sympathy cannot be switched on and off like an electric current, that anyone that identifies himself with the fate of another is robbed to some extent of his own freedom.

Perhaps in his selflessness he was dishonest and in his selfishness he was honest. At many points in the book people take an inexplicable liking to him, at one point he even notices and is puzzled himself. If he would only stop and see what a coward he is, or if someone would look past his gentlemanliness and his Aryan eyes and realize what he really is and point it out to him before it’s too late.

Is it a crime to marry someone you don’t love to make them happy?

How often has it been committed?

For vanity, too, inebriates; gratitude, too, intoxicates; tenderness, too, can blissfully confuse the senses.

Sometimes insightful, now blind:

What a mercy, I thought, that the crippled, the maimed, those whom Fate has cheated, at least in sleep have no knowledge of the shapeliness or unshapeliness of their bodies.

There is something so horrible about this. The man is so obsessed with this person’s disability that he can at no time think of the person without thinking of the problem. And he for some reason assumes that the person is equally plagued by it and never thinks of anything else. He assumes that because he has reduced them to nothing but a condition that this is truly all they are and they are aware of it. I’ve seen people say this book is a-political. Those people are blind! This way of thinking leads down a clear road to the years where 11 million people were killed in concentration camps because they were defined according to one and only one aspect of themselves, ranging from race to chronic illness to sexuality to political belief.

The fact that the object of pity in this book is Jewish, like the author himself, can surely be no coincidence. The Herr Lieutenant is haunted by the idea that his family and friends might find out he is romantically associated with a “Jewess”.

Narrow-minded person that he is, every single moment he is with her he pities her. He never forgets why she is sitting down. When she tries to show him her strength and perseverance, tries to show him that she can, in fact, walk, all he can see is weakness:

She wanted, out of a kind of mysterious vindictiveness born of despair, to torture us with her torture, to arraign us, the hale and hearty, in the place of God.

She is constantly aware of his pity and it is a constant reminder to her of her situation. It destroys her:

A lame creature, a cripple like myself, has no right to love. How should I, broken, shattered being that I am, be anything but a burden to you, when to myself I am an object of disgust, of loathing. A creature such as I, I know, has no right to love, and certainly no right to be loved. It is for such a creature to creep away into a corner and die and cease to make other people's lives a burden with her presence.

On self-deception:

The instinct of self-deception in human beings makes them try to banish from their minds dangers of which at the bottom they are perfectly aware by declaring them nonexistent, and a warning such as mine against cheap optimism was bound to prove particularly unwelcome at a moment when a sumptuously laid supper was awaiting for us in the next room.

One should not always let the wish be father to the thought. Only a numskull is pleased at being a so-called “success” with women, only a dunderhead is puffed up by it.

On courage:

During the war practically the only courage I came across was mass courage, the courage that comes of being one of a herd, and anyone who examines this phenomenon more closely will find it to be compounded of some very strange elements: a great deal of vanity, a great deal of recklessness and even boredom, but, above all, a great deal of fear — yes, fear of staying behind, fear of being sneered at, fear of independent action, and fear, above all, of taking a stand against the mass enthusiasm. It always demands a far greater degree of courage for an individual to oppose an organized movement than to let himself be carried along with the stream — individual courage, that is, a variety of courage that is dying out in these times of progressive organization and mechanization. Even in the last war he had not met many men at the front who had either unequivocally acquiesced in or opposed the war. Most of them had been whirled into it like a cloud of dust and had simply found themselves caught up in the vast vortex, each one of them tossed about willy-nilly like a pea in a great sack. For the first time in my life I began to realise that it is not evil and brutality, but nearly always weakness, that is to blame for the worst things that happen in this world.

Other interesting bits:

It seemed to him to be more important and sensible to become rich than to be regarded as rich one might have thought he had read Schopenhauer’s wise paralipomena with regard to what one is or merely represents oneself to be).

Sometimes one is amazed that the good God should trouble to give the six or seven hundred roofs of a little town of this sort the background of a different sky and a different countryside. -

What a wonderful line. It says so much and so early on about the narrator.

It is only the immeasurable, the limitless that terrifies us. That which is set within defined, fixed limits is a challenge to our powers, comes to be the measure of our strength.

There are two kinds of pity. One, the weak and sentimental kind, which is really no more than the heart's impatience to be rid as quickly as possible of the painful emotion aroused by the sight of another's unhappiness, that pity which is not compassion, but only an instinctive desire to fortify one's own soul agains the sufferings of another; and the other, the only one at counts, the unsentimental but creative kind, which knows what it is about and is determined to hold out, in patience and forbearance, to the very limit of its strength and even beyond.

Love is illimitable, all finiteness, all moderation, is repugnant, intolerable to it. In every sign of constraint, of restraint, on the part of the other it suspects opposition; any reluctance to yield utterly it rightly interprets as secret resistance. And there must have been a trace of embarrassment and confusion in my behaviour, of disingenuousness and gaucherie in what I said, for all my efforts were no match for her alert expectancy.

For a young and inexperienced person almost invariably forms a picture of real life and experience that is a reflection of the world of which he has heard or read in books; before he has experienced life at first-hand he inevitably moulds his ideas of it on second-hand experience. Our decisions are to a much greater extent dependent on our desire to conform to the standards of our class and environment than we are inclined to admit. A considerable proportion of our reasoning is merely an automatic function, so to speak, of influences and impressions which have become part of us.. I felt like a murderer who has buried the corpse of his victim in a wood: the snow begins to fall in thick, white, dense flakes; for months, he knows, this concealing coverlet will hide his crime, and afterwards all trace of it will have vanished forever. And so I plucked up the courage and began to live again. Since no one reminded me of it, I myself forgot my guilt. For the heart is able to bury deep and well what it urgently desires to forget. So often in fiction, films and TV more than books, people are, in the end, good or bad. This person, oh and I despise him, this person is both. He is so real. He’s insightful at times, but incredibly blind. Kind, but impossibly cruel and selfish overall. Honorable, but despicable. Brave, but as cowardly as they come.

#Beware of Pity - Stefan Zweig #Beware of Pity #Stefan Sweig

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harstinedogs-blog · 6 years

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Our New Foster Dog!

So we went and picked up the new foster dog. We didn’t end up with the dog I thought I was originally going to get, turns out that another dog needed our help even more, so we ended up with her instead. She’s a little pit bull, one whom I believe may have come from the fighting world as her face, neck, and chest are covered in scars and one of her ears is torn nearly in half and missing a rather large chunk from it, though it could also be caused by her being what she is. She’s a cute little thing with a sassy attitude and a whole lot of spunk. She’s super sweet and friendly towards everyone human, including children. She’s an incredibly happy, wiggly, energetic, scrappy little girl. I’m rather glad that I ended up with her since she thankfully has no sign or indication of any human aggression issues.

She is definitely not without her problems, however. She needs a lot (a lot!) of obedience work and she needs to learn her manners, though those are both pretty basic and shouldn’t take too much time for her to learn. She seems to be pretty attentive, alert and eager to please, even towards someone she’s never met before, has no allegiance to and no reason to work for. She seems to be pretty food motivated as well, which always makes things easier.

The real problem she has is her incredibly high prey drive. Every little thing that moves grabs her immediate attention and all thought dissipates like vapor and she just throws herself full bore at it. If there is an actual animal visible she goes absolutely nuts and continues to go nuts until it’s out of her sight. Normally a high prey drive wouldn’t really bother me too much, it can even be a good thing at times, as it can provide motivation and drive for quite a few various activities and games. However, this particular dog has an overwhelming desire and need to eat my two beloved cats, which is absolutely not okay, definitely not allowed and will not be tolerated in any way, shape or form.

The first few days she was here she was absolutely nuts. Completely overwhelmed and overstimulated by everything out here in the middle-of-nowhere country, she was trying so hard to focus on everything around her all at once, plus we had a few guests over for the weekend so there were extra people walking around, extra noise and activity. There was sunshine and fresh air, birds, rabbits, deer, cats, dogs, raccoons, rats, ravens and all manner of other things that caught her attention. There was grass, bushes, trees, fences, ties, trails and buildings that needed to be fully sniffed and inspected, even though we tried to minimize her exposure as much as possible in the first few days so she had a chance to adjust to her new environment and her new humans. Since she didn’t know me from a hole in the wall, she paid absolutely no attention to me at all, and wouldn’t give me any acknowledgment or eye contact. I pretty much felt like I didn’t even exist to her, and for a while, I didn’t, not really anyways. I was just someone annoying on the other end of the leash preventing her from getting to all the things she was so eager to get to.

I’ll admit, I briefly entertained the idea of giving her back at that point. I wrote to the lady from the rescue that I got her from and talked to her about it, and that didn’t go very well. They finally revealed some of what they hadn’t wanted to tell me before this “slightly reactive to small dogs and animals” dog came into my life. I found out that there really is nowhere else for her to go. She can’t go back to where she came from because there are 5 other dogs there and no one really has any time for her. So I’m kind of the end of the line for her, and if I can’t deal with her then her next step, unfortunately, is euthanasia. I believe it’s because of the way she is, the way she acts. Though she is an incredibly happy dog and very friendly with humans, they are definitely not her first priority. As much as she likes humans, she has a hard time focusing on them unless they have food to offer her. Her attention and focus is so wrapped up in looking for small furry creatures to kill that she’s constantly in hunt mode. While on a walk she can barely pay attention enough to go to the bathroom because she’s so caught up in looking for something, anything, everything, to chase and kill. She never stops, she never shuts off, and she hardly ever relaxes. She’ll barely even lay down because she’s so focused on what’s going on around her and when she does lay down it’s more of a tense, stiff-legged crouch than an actual, genuine down. She refuses to lay on her side and fights like hell to keep her feet under her and keep her balance and grip, and she never stays sitting or laying down for very long. It’s more like she pretends to sit and down rather than actually doing it.

When she does actually see another animal, regardless of what size it is, it becomes nearly impossible to get her attention off of it and onto something else. Even her food motivation goes right out the window. If you tug on her, she pulls back with everything she’s got, rearing up on her hind legs and choking herself in her frenzy to get the animal. If you turn around and try to walk away, she fights like crazy to stay pointed in the direction of her prey. If you try to body block her you end up doing a strange little dance as she tries to see around you and try to block her view. If you try to give her a command or instructions, she is completely deaf to them. Treats must be thrust in front of her nose before she’ll notice them, and while she will eat them if they’re more enticing than plain kibble, she refuses to break eye contact with her target or turn her attention away from them, not even for food. The only way to get her to come back to you is to drag her, forcefully while she’s kicking and screaming in protest, far enough away so that she can’t see them anymore. Even then it’s hard to get her attention since she keeps looking back at and focusing on where she knows that animal is, or was.

I finally resorted to making her steak bite treats (much to the frustration of my father, who was going to eat that steak…) and while she absolutely loves them and happily works quickly and with plenty of motivation for them while she’s alone, if another animal is within 50-100 feet of her, they may as well not even exist. So that’s going to be an incredibly difficult challenge to break. Honestly, I don’t know if she’ll ever be completely free of the behavior, and she may never be able to go into a home that has any other animals. I definitely can’t trust her for even a second, and I have to constantly remain on guard and alert for anything that moves and breathes. But we’re working on it…

I have managed to get her into a sit when she sees another living thing, and she’ll only break the sit if they come within a few feet of her, at which point she lunges wildly with all intent to kill, or at least maim and injure. So it’s a very small start, but at least it’s a start. We are also working on impulse control in a lot of other areas, such as not rushing and pushing our way out of the crate simply because its been unlatched, or not pushing and rushing our way out of a door simply because it’s been opened, and not pouncing on the food bowl before it even hits the ground, and not devouring a treat that’s offered along with half of the hand that offered it.

She definitely has a very dominant, pushy and stubborn nature, and when she is forced to do something she definitely does NOT like it and will push back with everything she has against giving in and actually submitting, though she will do it eventually. She develops a major attitude and resentment, a giant doggy “Fuck you, I do what I want” kind of response. I don’t think she’s ever had anyone really enforce the rules on her, and she’s used to getting her own way if she stands her ground and doesn’t give in. But she is beginning to get the hint that those type of behaviors just doesn’t fly with me, and that there are consequences to being defiant, just as there are rewards for being obedient. She has missed out on a meal or 5 for a few hours because of her refusal to cooperate and play nice. However, these lessons all seem to be sinking in rather slowly, considering how smart and crafty she has shown herself to be.

We don’t have much of a bond yet, though we are gradually developing a relationship and respect. At least I get to exist in her world now, and she is beginning to give me eye contact and acknowledgment when there are no other critters or distractions around to catch her attention. We are working continuously on “Leave It” and she really only gets praised for actually looking away from her prey and making eye contact with me, however brief it may be. So she is improving, though very, very slowly, and only with a lot of work and frustration.

We are also trying weight pulling with her, and she seems to be responding to it quite well. At the moment she’s only dragging a single tire behind her on our walks, which she does with ease, though it does an excellent job of giving her a workout and wearing her out after about a half hour walk. Since she gets tired and starts lagging in the middle, we take her harness off to give her a break and a bit of a normal walk for 10-20 minutes before we finish bringing the tire back home. She always pulls it just a little bit further each time we go out. She seems to really be enjoying it, and will even walk calmly off-leash for short periods when we’re safely back in the woods. On-leash she does an excellent job at keeping up, with a slack leash most of the time and she doesn’t need much encouragement at all, though she does enjoy nearly constant praise and a steady supply of treats when she’s working. She is also starting to understand that when she has the harness on she is “working” and not just walking and that many behaviors that are allowed on a regular walk are not tolerated when walking in-harness. She really is quite smart and actually learns quite quickly, and she remembers very well, even if we only did an exercise once or twice a day or two before, she only needs a couple of reminders before she picks it back up again.

She’s not quite as affectionate as I would like her to be, and she’s not very snuggly at all, except for the brief, rare moments when she chooses to forget about the outside world and it’s critters and relaxes, allowing herself to just be a dog and be loved. She’s even let me roll her over and scratch her tummy a couple of times. So she is definitely showing major signs of improvement.

She is certainly going to be a very difficult dog to work with, but I think that once our relationship improves and our bond strengthens, once she actually begins to trust me, and trust that she can rely on me, things will improve dramatically.

There are certainly times, however, that I have to pause, take a deep breath, and remind myself that I volunteered and asked for this, that I wanted a difficult dog to work with, one that everyone else had given up on, one who was out of chances and at the end of the line. That is exactly what I ended up with. Be careful what you wish for! You just might end up getting it. I know that I have, many times over.

Even with all her problems and the difficulty of her particular challenges, I have to admit that I am much happier and more content now that I have a dog to concentrate on and work with again then I was before when I was still wishing that I had a dog. Life is just so much better when you have a dog by your side, however difficult and frustrating said dog may be. Life is always better with a dog to love.

#Dogs #Dog Behavior #Dog Training #Foster Dogs #Rescue Dogs #Dog Behavior Problems #Behavior Rehabilitation #adopting a dog #dog adoption #dog rescue

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