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sugargliderowl · 4 years

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Thoughts on Janus’ Playlist...

Some of my first-time-hearing reactions to Janus’ playlist (sorry for the rambling parts):

Black Hole Sun: It’s apparently about depression according to Genius? Like it’s kinda like yearning for the depression to be sucked into the “black hole sun”... The snake references and heaven and hell is definitely Janus. Also, it sounds old-timey like a jazz song, so that sets up the mood of the entire playlist. I don’t really get this... but this feels like a mood setter for the entire thing, unless it means something else. What do you guys think?

It Seemed the Better Way: The strings? CHILLS. Leonard Cohen’s voice reminds me of Hades in Hadestown. “Sounded like the truth, seemed the better way... but it’s not the truth today” is just his motto is what I’m seeing. And then the “I better hold my tongue, I better take my place...” part feels like resignation to me. It’s either Janus is trying to help, but that didn’t work so he resigns to become the “villain” of the light sides. It could allude to the dark sides as a whole: they are all trying to help Thomas in their ways, but because being themselves doesn’t work, they need the villain, spooky facade.

Anywhere: Ooh, I’m seeing a vintage vibe from all of this... Back to the song. “It’s a beautiful / If you’ve been lied to” is a good callback to the whole “society is built on lies” from SvS from Jay Dee. “Let this be a call to arms / At the changing of the avante garde / Nothing in this world... is beautiful.” Is Janus a pessimist? If so, he’s a good juxtaposition to Patton, the optimist. Also, the vocals remind me of like a really old timey radio, semi-haunted... my instincts say that it feels like the singer is like Harrison Bergeron (Kurt Vonnegut; do read it; it’s a good short story) trying to tell the truth about this world that people think is a good place.

Talking at the Same Time: Someone please draw Janus as like a 1920s gentleman character swaggering... wait I can. This song reminds me of “Why don’t you do right” by Jessica Rabbit on “Who Framed Roger Rabbit.” Jazz or blues? Either one. This song is really depressing? I don’t know why, but there is that feel of everything is hopeless. Pessimistic, again. “A tiny boy... made a sword from a stick and a gun from his hand” reminds me of Roman in a way? But then again, the “we bailed out all the millionaires / they’ve got the fruit / We’ve got the rind” doesn’t remind me of Roman.

all the good girls go to hell: “MY LUCIFER IS LOOONELYY”... sorry I love this song. Anyways, the lyrics really speak to Janus just because of the whole duality and Christian metaphors. Also, J is the side who would definitely “want the Devil on her team”. We love the whole duality motif. I just *chef’s kiss x3*.

Denial: OH MY GOSH THE SVS REDUX... J was denial. HE WAS DENIAL. “Just don’t shut your eyes closed / Not until I get it off my chest” is basically the blindfold metaphor that happened throughout SvS, so would this be the message he wants to send to Thomas and Patton... or maybe the entire light sides. “Have you turned a corner? / Do you think of leaving me behind?” Dark side acceptance arc? Also, “I know you’re looking for direction... I know where you wanna go / Oh I do, but do you?” is to Roman and Thomas for the callback because he knew they wanted to go “so bad.”

(click for more analysis and summary!)

Trust in Me: Of course, snek boi, I knew this could be something you’ll put in. But do we trust you? So this is his suave villainy song. This again shows how Bananaconda child operates; he wants Thomas to trust him and be selfish but excessively. That’s why balance is necessary for all of the sides!

Razzle Dazzle: *gasp* MUSICAL SONGS NOW? YASSS. Definition is “noisy, showy, and exciting activity and display designed to attract and impress,” so the whole facade of being fancy to hide the insecurities and “bad” parts. Sounds like someone we know (*cough* ROMAN *cough*). “What if your hinges all are rusting / What if, in fact, you’re just disgusting? / Razzle dazzle ‘em and they’ll never catch wise” is just a jab and a stab at Roman. Or maybe it’s him. He’s also the dramatic one. If so, we have angst arriving.

When the Chips are Down: HADESTOWN OH MY YES! STRINGS! AAAAA! Does Janus give me Fate vibes in a way? Yes, definitely. “Nobody’s righteous / Nobody’s proud / Nobody’s innocent / Now that the chips are down” Holy CRAPP. It’s the perfect response to Patton’s “Nobody’s perfect... except for Thomas, he loves his friends!” in SvS. Now that the “chips are down,” Thomas should take after himself... after all, the Fates were telling Eurydice to look after herself. Sounds like what Janus said to Thomas after the Redux.

Mandy Goes to Med School: Oh. Um. This sounds like the whole jazz/20′s theme. This song’s apparently about abortion? I’m kinda confused, so feel free to add on! But it’s quite the bop, just listening to it. Maybe the whole thought that society makes laws based on a false conception? Help.

I Put A Spell On You: Janus definitely goes to jazz clubs. “I can’t stand it ‘cause you put me down” and “I tell ya I ain’t lyin’” and “Because you’re mine” makes the whole villainesque feel. I don’t know where this was from, but this stands out to me just because it was on the “Friends on the Other Side Mashup”.

Evil Night Together: Ominous, and then jazzy. Jay Dee’s flirting skills go to the max. This also gives the villain vibe by the lyrics referencing things that Remus would be fond about. Also, “Who’s gonna make you a hero” seems to be directed to Roman like he did in SvS. This is a very seductive song with really dark undertones about crime. Janus, that slimy snek boi is a lawful neutral to evil.

Dont’ Tell Mama: Cabaret... a classic musical, eh? “Hush up, don’t tell mama / Shush up, don’t tell mama” goes to Janus’ power to silence people. “If you had a secret, you bet I would keep it / I would never tell on you...” Janus is definitely the one about lies and secrets, so that goes to that.

You’re a Cad: “What’s the point pretending that you could be a better man? / Just give in, since you always end up right back where you began” “You’re a rascal and a rogue, a villain and a crook” is the other sides viewing him, and “Still I tug at your line, I’m a fish on your hook” and “I should be better, but I’m worse” is hinting at some Janus angst. I think it’s going to be something about trust

As Far as I Can See: JANUS ANGST TRUCKING IN ON TO YA: “Nobody loves me / As far as I can tell.” Or even “Nobody’s listening as far as I can tell / And when I’m crying out / Nobody cries back for me.” Haha... I’m totally fine (*sobbing*). Also, the “we’re all going down / all down the staircase aboard” either hints at the Redux statement of pushing people off staircases... or maybe Virgil who went down the staircase and left the dark sides. Gosh, I thought this was gonna be a hype song by the beat, but I stand corrected.

Criminal: Oh, so the angst continues. Great. Totally great. This somehow links back to the bloopers of Thomas, as J, saying “I’m not bad; I’m just drawn that way.” This is peak sarcasm in a way, but I don’t really know. “I’ve done wrong and I wanna suffer for my sins / I’ve come to you cause I need guidance to be true / And I just don’t know where I can begin”... is this from Thomas to Janus or the other way? If it’s from Thomas, Janus is kinda mad and is using as much sass as he wants. If it’s from Janus, it’s either he’s lying or he genuinely wants a redemption arc like Virgil did... but in a not so righteous way with “And I need to be redeemed / To the one I’ve sinned against / Because he’s all I ever knew of love.” I don’t really know, but this is such a bop.

Change: “I’ve been thinking it’s just someone else’s job to care / Who am I to sympathize when no one gives a d-” and “” Wow. Janus has his similarities with Logan. He wants to be listened to the sides. I mean, there is a reason why he impersonates the light sides: to be listened without bias. “Change is a powerful thing / I feel it coming in me” foreshadows some good stuff with Janus! YES! Also, “Maybe by the time this song is done / I’ll be able / To be honest” and the rest of the lyrics just hit me like a truck? It hurts the soul in a way. Change is inevitable is the message, so would that mean Janus could have an upgrade? I mean, the change started when SvS Redux happened with him coming out and being accepted by the light sides, so maybe, maybe things will change from there in a good way.

Devil In The Details: “A house of cards / A supple heart / Is not a place to dwell”.... Patton? Oh no. “But know there’s no backing out / This is gonna be reality / You can never dream it out” is going to his reputation and relations with the sides and Thomas? He seemed to have hesitated to say his name and let his reputation down since that would change everything that he has known over the years. Would this mean the dark and light side thing will break in later episodes? Maybe. “I put the past into the ground / I saw the future as a cloud / If there’s still time to turn around / I’m going to” is a big oof. And then... “I am the first one I deceive / If I can make myself believe / The rest is easy” comes in. Is Janus lying to himself? He’s the manifestation of deceit, but is he also doing that to himself? Or it could be to Thomas. But then again...

Come Little Children: Spooky. Nice. This feels like a lullaby. “It must be this way / To weary of life and deceptions / Rest now my children...” and then “The time’s come to play / Here in my garden of shadows” make me think that Janus thinks that this life is quite... painful. I am not too sure about this, tell me what y’all think!

Into The Unknown: Oh it’s not that one. It’s the one from Over The Garden Wall (the animation if I remember it right). I don’t know why, but I saw Come Little Children and connected that to Into the Unknown as words, so that was cool. “Dancing in a swirl / Of golden memories / The loveliest lies / Of all” refers to nostalgia. This song is about nostalgia. Wait. OH WAIT. Patton’s room is all about that... so would that mean nostalgia is also part of Jay Dee too because of the mood around it that is distorted by emotions? That’s something really cool to think about. One more: “If dreams can’t come true / Then why not pretend?” I feel like this points to Virgil in a way because his dream is complete acceptance, but Janus knows V was a dark side, so maybe he’s hinting at Virgil pretending to compensate for the fact that he is a dark side.

Summary:

Janus’ aesthetic would be a 1920-40 vintage theme with jazz on the background, strings and piano used ominous effect, and being flashy and dramatic. He wants to be listened to the other sides, so he puts up different disguises (like to Pat and Lo), which includes his villain facade he put on for the past maybe 2 or 3 years. He strongly believes that society is built on lies, and like in SvS, he doesn’t want Thomas to be disadvantaged in the said society. He loves the whole duality and juxtapositions (I mean, his name is Janus for a good reason) because he embraces them both. He jabs at several sides for them faking themselves to hide their true feelings, but then again, he might also be lying to himself. He knows that change is inevitable after the whole name reveal, and we know that his acceptance arc is going to come. It could be about trust and facing the reality... just my thoughts. In other words, this playlist gave me a bunch of reasons on why Janus is a great morally gray character.

FEEL FREE TO ADD ON! I LOVE SHARING THOUGHTS! Especially with analysis, more people means more thoughts and new ideas and theories. Thank you!

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mcfanely · 4 years

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A Mirror Image

Cole has always been aware of the Oni blood that ran through his veins. He didn't remember the exact moment when he'd been told that he wasn't entirely human, it just felt like he always knew. But he did remember the sheer about of training and time he put into perfecting the use of his inherited abilities. Shape-shifting? It was second nature, so easy to use that it was almost laughable. Yet, in battle or on missions, it became an invaluable tool. It was something he wouldn't shy away from using, no matter if the only other people who knew about his lineage was Sensei Wu and Zane.

5485 words

Sneaking through a near pitch black warehouse was never something that Cole would personally plan to do on a Saturday night, but it wasn't like he wanted to be stooping between wooden crates of presumably recently stored goods, or brushing specks of dust off his gi as he moved through areas that looked like they hadn't been swept in far too long. Which wasn't good, or very hygienic since according to the stock report he'd read a few days earlier, the crates that were towering high around him contained perishables. Foods; imported from some of the further reaches of Ninjago.

Presumably.

That doubt was the entire reason why Cole, along with the rest of the team, were moving through the shadows. Trying in vain to stay hidden when it felt like every footfall created a far too loud echo, which then flowed around the wide expanse of the building. If there were people inside - other people - then it was a minor shock that none of them had been alerted sooner. It felt like every drawn breath was pushing the silence of the environment, that the next exhale could bring down a wave of criminals right on top of them.

Or maybe that was just past experiences talking, and all the training they'd all been through. In high stress situations such as a stake-out, their senses were bound to be heightened. Their hearing would be sensitive, especially to every minor noise that wound up being made. No one could be entirely quiet at every second, it just wasn't possible. The brush of clothes on clothes, light footsteps, even the beat of a heart just felt that little bit too oppressive; all unavoidable. Adrenaline ramped high caused hands to shake, even minutely. Made breathing heavier, caused eyes to track onto even the barest of movement such as a tiny dust mote that moved into his line of sight.

Cole brought his hand up to wave the minuscule obstruction away before he thought better of himself and dropped it back down to his side. He needed to focus, keep his breathing measured and keep his eyes on where he was going, which thankfully wasn't all that hard for him.

His team, wherever they were in the warehouse, they would be having a much harder time finding their way around. In what should be a closed off building, as the clock was more than close to chiming for midnight, it was dark outside with a waxing moon high in the sky. But inside? When they'd been peering through a shattered window not ten minutes earlier, Jay had remarked that he could just barely see the outlines of the wooden storage shelves that all but lined the entire building.

Cole had just given a small hum of acknowledgement, peering through the window himself, before they'd moved on to their actual entry point into the building.

There was no way that he was going to outwardly admit that he could see the darkened insides as easily as he could see his hand if he held it directly in front of his face in the middle of a sunny day. Or maybe not to that extent, but darkness had never really been an issue for him. Actually, he'd never acknowledged darkness as something that could pose a disadvantage until Sensei Wu had mentioned in passing that not everyone had the ability to see in the pitch black like he did.

That; whilst some animals could also see well during the night, was an ability that was unique to Cole in regards to it occurring in tandem with his supposed humanity.

Even though he wasn't entirely human to begin with, and he could thank his grandmother for that. For the fact that whenever he moved past the towering walls of stored products, he could see them easily. Everything may have been sharply tinted with a monochrome grey and just that slight bit blurred along the edges, but he could thank her that he wasn't totally blind like everyone else who was also currently, hopefully, successfully finding their own ways through the packed building.

Jay and Nya had entered through the far side of the warehouse to where everyone else had come in, and were ideally edging their way towards the centre. Kai and Lloyd had taken the ceiling rafters, hopping from beam to beam and providing the birds eye view of the situation below. Zane was doing the same as Cole, working solo, moving in to where he was sure he could hear whispered voices floating up from a few aisles to his left.

Cole paused for a second, his eyes slipping closed in silent frustration and realisation that maybe… Maybe it would have been a good idea for me to have taken the ceiling, since I can actually see, and Lloyd and Kai can't…

That wasn’t a smart move.

It was a brief mental chiding, but he hadn't intentionally given them the risky part of the job. He would never put someone in danger. Ever. It was just something that had slipped his mind, and either way, if the plan went off like it was supposed to then in the next few minutes the warehouse lighting would be back in action and they all would have clear vision as they moved in and carried out their respective roles.

It had started with a call from Ninjago's Police Commissioner regarding some unusual activity that some of the officers had been noticing, within the warehouse district of the city. Groups of people coming and going in the cover of night, slipping into the giant buildings through small gaps that had corroded into the metal clad walls or by forcing their way inside with bolt cutters to traverse the industrial locks and chains that were used to secure the imports overnight. Cole had spent a good portion of his morning earlier that week on the phone, sat at the dining table in the Monastery with a notepad in front of him, a pen being worried between his teeth and a group of nosy and curious brothers poking their heads not so subtly around the door. All to see what the situation was. Talking with the Commissioner, writing down information as it was provided, along with determining the issue at hand and what was going to be done to address it; it had been a long and busy few hours.

Overall, the problem had been easy to summarise for the group of ninja as they had all but piled into the room when they'd finally heard Cole's professional, "Yes, of course. Thank you for calling, I'll start planning right away and give you a call over the next day or so, so we can coordinate a joint plan of action. Right. Yes. Got it. Goodbye."

The phone hadn't even been moved from his ear before he'd basically gained a lapful of Jay as he'd come barrelling inside with an excited and sing-songed question of, "Is it a ninja problem?"

Cole gave a short nod, before he began to spread his few pages of notes out over the table for them to be read. "The Commissioner has reason to believe there's a gang, or a group of people, breaking into the storage buildings west of the city and stealing some of the products… Or--"

"Or?" The question was asked far too quickly, even though Cole had been about to finish his train of thought. He shot Kai a pointed look, and a raised eyebrow. Though everyone's excitement was understandable. The past few weeks had been fairly quiet, so anything vaguely interesting was more enough to break up the monotony.

A joint operation with Ninjago PD? That was exciting.

"Some Officers seem to think that these people aren't taking stuff, but leaving things hidden. Inside the crates." Cole carded a hand through his hair slowly, "I need to make a plan, but the basis is we all move in and apprehend the criminals, and then the police move in and make the arrests, scout the area, crack the case. And all that." He waved a hand loosely. "We just go in and make sure no one gets hurt. Easy."

It had taken a few days, and many calls and scribbled notes on post-its, torn pages of notebooks and maybe one or two sleepless nights, but Cole had a plan in place, and the Police on standby outside acting as a surrounding force. No matter what, the people inside the warehouse? They would be leaving in cuffs. All it would take was for Cole's plan to go down without a hitch.

Easy.

Everyone knew their job, what they had to do, it was just a matter of time.

Cole paused mid-step just as he was turning a corner around a small pile of boxes, a sharp drag of air through his teeth ended in a clamped mouth, held breath as his eyes focused on a small group of people in front of him. Three people, two males and one female, all fairly well built and each armed with their own blaring flashlight in one hand, and an assortment of weapons in the other. Namely from what he could see, a couple baseball bats and one length of what seemed to be rusted rebar that must have been laying around. Cole's fingers itched to reach back and pull his scythe from its sheath, to have a proper fight, but that wasn't the plan.

The plan was no injury. Jay would find the fuse box, he and Nya would get it running again and actually light up the area. Then by that time, everyone else would be in positions where they could hem in the criminals that were dotted around the building and incapacitate them until the police moved in. Simple enough.

Cole had found his targets, his pupils shrinking to adjust for the sudden change in light levels as he kept to the shadows and observed from a careful distance. The warehouse lights turning on was the cue to move in, and that hadn't happened yet. So he waited. Listened.

A minor huff of air came from one of the men, dressed in a loose fitting hoodie which did a good job of hiding any possible muscle underneath, though the way he wielded the rebar displayed experience and curated strength. Light swings, accompanied by a woosh sound as it sliced through the atmosphere.

"I can't believe we're here for no reason." He groaned in a whisper, his head tilted back and eyes closed. "One person. Maybe two, that's it. Send them in, get them to retrieve the goods. Done. Sorted." There was a pause, then in an almost whine, "But no, we all have to be here."

"Because apparently there is a lot more to get than what we'd initially thought. Either way, we're not doing anything." The woman gestured around the group, "We're just here for numbers."

"Numbers?" The word was forced out around laugh, though it definitely had an air of frustration. It was as if the man wanted to be anywhere else but in that warehouse at that very time. Cole could understand that, but for a different reason. He could have been in bed, sleeping, but instead he'd spent the past week stressing out over multiple possible scenarios that could occur should the plan have to change. Or trying to make sure what he had in place would work and be effective, that each member of the team would be doing the right job, in the right place, had the right skills.

Taking the lead was never easy, but it was rewarding.

Yet, this man rotating the metal bar slowly in his grip with a smile on his face, where else would he be if not there? Committing another crime elsewhere? Sleeping? Either way, the only place he would be going after this night would be the police station.

Cole found himself cracking a brief grin from where he was crouched behind a crate, his head poked just over the top to continue observing the group. The knowledge that these people were going to get what was coming for them, and they didn't even know, there was something vaguely satisfying about the situation.

All that there was between their freedom and their arrest was a well planned--

The lights flickered on. The warehouse awash so sharply with artificial white light that his widened pupils snapped so sharply down to a near pinpoint size that it made his vision bright with glare. His surroundings, moving from a pallet of greys and blacks to coloured, browns of the wooden storage boxes, reds and blues of the painted metal shelving units where everything was situated and sorted out. Now, he could see the sheer amount of dust that flowed over the floor, marked areas where people had been moving around presumably during the day, tyre tracks from heavy machinery that did the jobs that people couldn't do.

Then, just as quickly, the lights were off again. Cole's attention immediately snapped up towards the ceiling as the orange glow of the faded bulbs finally transcended into darkness.

What the hell? Jay, you were supposed to leave the lights on, what did you--

"Wait."

One of the men's voices came out as a whisper, his footfalls falling into silence as Cole blinked his eyes rapidly, forcing them to get used to the light levels again. There was always that brief period where his vision was impeded, as apparently everyone experienced; but when his eyes took in light in a different way, when they took in so much more? Sudden shifts from dark to light was never a good thing.

Though something in the tone of voice. Maybe it was the surprise? Or the shock? Or the fact that the word was said so carefully and warily that as soon as Cole had some semblance of vision he was peering over his small hiding spot and, like anyone would do, froze.

The man, the one armed with the rebar, was staring directly at him. Sure his gaze was wandering, a little unfocused but it was definitely in his general direction. Far too close to where Cole was crouched to be anything of a coincidence, enough to make his muscles tense and adrenaline spike as he, under the cover of darkness, met eyes with the man. He stopped breathing.

"What?" The other man asked, his tone questioning. "This place is old, lights are probably--"

"Shut up." He spat out quickly, "I saw someone."

Now, the woman spoke up, and Cole was just observing with climbing adrenaline flowing through his muscles. This wasn't good. "What? Who? Where?"

The next thing Cole knew, there was the bright beam of a light directly in his field of view, his eyes wincing and vision whiting over at the visual feedback the torch gave. There was a dragged breath, and a yelp from someone else, then the warehouse lights turned on.

Cole stood quickly from his hiding position, coming face to face with the group of three who were now fully aware of his presence, though none of them seemed to be reacting immediately other than staring in his direction with wide eyes, weapons held in a lax grip and torches still on, drooping towards the floor.

That was all in the space of a couple seconds, before darkness descended again. Now, the group decided to react to the change in circumstances. Torches whipping around widely, the sound of a baseball bat tapping hard against the floor as if one of the people were deciding to prime a swing into the oblivion of nothing that was now before them.

Even if they had planned to attack in the general area that he'd been standing in, Cole wasn't there anymore. As soon as he had the cover of yet another impromptu power cut, he'd quickly moved from where he'd been standing without much second thought. Staying where he'd been hiding, that would be a stupid move. His presence there had already been compromised, but he had other pressing issues to contend with.

Namely, the sheer chaos that was quick to follow.

A shrieked, "Holy shit, what the-!" Only for the shout to be cut off by a sheer flash of blue light, and the smell of ozone quickly taking over the entire warehouse floor in under a second. Cole looked up, the far side of the building illuminated by cracks and arcs of electricity weaving out into the open air, whips and sharp retorts of discharge echoed around the warehouse and in that moment, Cole realised that his plan was going out the window rapidly.

Jay, and presumably Nya, had partially succeeded in getting the lighting on only for it to die away into an intermittent and unpredictable flickering mess. All it took was a glance up, the lighting shuddering and fluttering between being on and off, rapidly so. They were most likely reacting to Jay's element, the power of it, the present voltage.

Then there was the situation of Cole's position in the building being compromised. He had to think, he needed to think. Only, that was easier said than done. The sounds of people delving into a fight bouncing off the walls from different sides of the warehouse. Clangs and scrapes of presumably makeshift weapons, shouting and grunts of pain and effort met Cole's ears in a layered cacophony of information.

No, no, he had to figure something out. He couldn't stay where he was, since that group of three people knew that there was at least someone close by; lurking in the shadows. Being on the receiving end of the rebar or even a bat was not high upon his list, but neither could he leave them unattended. There were sounds of battle, sure, but Jay and Nya could more than handle themselves. Cole could too.

Which possibly meant forgoing a plan, and just working on instinct. Assessing the situation, reacting to what was happening in the now and not what would need to be done later. He let out a short breath, and unclenched his hands from fists and let them hang loosely as he traversed around a small area of boxed products. Cole kept the three people in his line of vision at all times, the torch light shifting rapidly from surface to surface as they presumably searched for him.

"Did you see that?" a man screeched, his torch fixed on the crate that Cole had been behind.

"The guy?"

"No, the eyes! Did you see the eyes?" He exclaimed, yelped even.

He was shocked, confused. Scared even. Apparently, a length of rebar didn't provide a sense of security.

After a brief pause, the woman's voice added, "They glowed."

"They glowed!"

Tapetum Lucidum. The term Zane has used. Eyeshine, a result of Cole's night-vision. Not natural in humans, by any means. The group of three seemed to be plainly aware of the impossibility of the scenario they were faced with.

Words laced with shock, pacing and hard footfalls, they all echoed and distracted, but Cole even could come up with the most basic plan if the situation needed it. What the Earth Master knew was that he needed a little more time than he currently had. He needed to focus, needed silence, and three criminals having a minor freak out in front of him didn't help one bit.

He needed them all to just pause, which was easier said than done. With the overhead lights flickering intermittently and out of sync, the movement of torches, the three people realising they were in a situation where they couldn't even make sense of who they were facing? It wasn't a recipe for calm.

It caused heavy breathing, spikes in heart rate that Cole could barely hear around the sharp echoes of their footsteps as they turned around. The flickering bulbs provided some form of vision, cascading over the room in spasming and extremely brief washes of white and along with it, mere milliseconds where the ninja could properly take in the environment in a way that wasn't awash with black and grey tones.

He needed clear vision, he needed to be able to take a proper look at someone. On a normal day, outside in the sunlight, it was second nature for Cole's attention to go straight up to someone's face. It was a regular social cue, to make eye contact when talking or interacting but there was always that little bit more to it than being polite. For Cole, at least. It was how his powers functioned the best. Normal days provided time, he could watch the person walk, the way they held themselves; listen to how they spoke and the mannerisms they favoured, the light lilt to their voices. Did they favour their left or right hand? What were they wearing?

There always tended to be time, but in that moment? In the warehouse where he was keeping his steps as quiet as possible, a fight raging somewhere off to his left and absolutely no plan to fall back on other than dealing with the small group in front of him, to then go find and help his team? With limited significant visual input?

There wasn't time. There wasn't even time to think.

The lights kept flickering.

On and off.

On. The man with the rebar was wearing a grey-- no, a blue hoodie.

Off. He'd had brown hair? He'd seen it before, when the lights had been fully on.

A flash of lightning. Ripped jeans, black sneakers.

His face? Cole had seen it. It had been a couple of shocked seconds being caught in his hiding spot by the man's wandering gaze. It was there somewhere, in his memory. He always remembered faces. Blue eyes, pale skinned, shaven beard--

Screw it, there isn't time to be overthinking!

On.

The group of three fell quiet in an instant. Or at least, two of them did. The woman, and the man wielding a baseball bat. Their eyes were wide, comically so, but Cole wasn't laughing. He was just staring back at them.

They weren't moving. Only standing there with their weapons held by their sides, mouths hanging open just slightly. No one was saying a word. No one seemed to want to even risk drawing a breath.

They were both staring back at their rebar wielding friend, who had a much tighter grip on his strip of metal. Their gaze flicking from the left to the right in silent confusion and sudden shock.

Since it wasn't just their friend staring back with an alarmed expression. There were two of them, where the well built man in the blue hoodie stood, just a few mere paces back from the original, there was an exact carbon copy. Dishevelled light hair, blue eyes reflecting the light, expression carefully neutral.

Or was the one standing closest to the pair of criminals the fake?

The silence echoed nearly, and it was exactly what Cole had needed. A pause, a minute distraction. He was well aware that he could analyse more in a few brief seconds than anyone, and that single second of staring around the group and their joint expression of something that was bordering on fear, taking in their stances and their tensed muscles that indicated they were ready for either a fight or to run, Cole was ready.

Then, again, when the lights predictably flickered out for the umpteenth time, he moved.

First to the man he had shifted into; and to be honest it had been clear who the original was. The immediate reaction for gazing at a mirror image of one's self was surprise, and the man's face had been a picture of it. It wasn't as if he'd been trying to act like the man. There hadn't been time, or the need, the purpose was just to form a plan.

Now he had one, more or less. The details were vague, but coming together slowly and surely. He needed to reduce the group size, starting with the one who was the biggest threat.

The man with the rebar was taken down, with the cover of darkness providing a much needed advantage. Between a scythe still strapped to his back, and a meter and a bit of metal already primed for a swing? Cole hadn't liked his odds with a one on one fight.

Now, all he had to do was deal with the other two.

There were shouts of alarm from the two remaining thugs, trying to correlate an attack when they probably couldn't see their hand in front of their face without their torches to aid them. They must have been discarded somewhere.

Cole stepped over to the woman next, his gaze set. This time, he'd do a better job. The sensation of the familiar cold purple fog shuttered rapidly over his chest, down his limbs and clouding over his sight for a single brief instance. It tousled his hair, and brought a minor sense of disorientation that righted itself in an instant. The sensation of shifting always brought a wide smile to his face, even in the current tense circumstances. The cascade of change, the way it was so easy. There wasn't a way to explain it, it just happened. Like taking a breath, like lifting an arm.

The warehouse lit up. The hanging lights the brightest they'd been, the crackle of lightning ceasing and the sounds of the fights drawing to a close.

Then, one raised baseball bat later, and a calculated strike to the side of the woman's head with the butt of the carved wood and she crumpled down to the floor in an instant, eyes rolled back into her head.

There was a laugh, just to the left hand side. The last man was still standing with his own bat held tightly in his grip. It was easy to tell the source of his glee, even though seemingly two of his companions were laid out unmoving on the concrete floor.

It was the fact that the woman, chest heaving deeply, long blonde hair dishevelled, drooping forwards over her face and partially shielding her eyesight was still standing.

And in front of her, on the floor, with a pale pallor and a reddened welt already forming rapidly on the side of her head was the doppelganger. Taken down by a single lucky swing, and a successful one at that, since it had been executed when they'd been surrounded by darkness.

"Take that you-- uh, thing!" she jeered after a second, taking a small hopped step forwards, lifting one foot to tap at her own mirror image's shoulder. When there was no immediate response other than the prone body to rock slightly to the side, she stepped back with a wider grin.

Though, her tone was questioning when she squinted and cast her gaze over the body, "What even are you? You're… you looked human." She mused, turning back to face the only standing man with a small smile and a look of accomplishment.

Yet all that she was met with was a gaze now filled with distrust and wariness.

"I mean, you saw him right? That guy? Do you think it's him or something else?"

The only thing her question was met with, was pure silence and a furrowed brow. Even, a searching expression that switched rapidly between the prone form on the floor, and the visage of the same person still standing.

She took a step closer to her friend, bat draped lazily over one shoulder.

"Wait." the man said.

She stopped.

Then after a second, a frown marred her own features. "What?" she moved the bat again, energy dissipating out through fiddled movements and an inability to stand still. She rested it against the floor, propping her weight up onto it. "Are you really going to stand there," She gestured with one hand, "and ask me if I'm me?" It was a question one that held a tone of slight sarcastic shock, at the sheer absurdity of the situation that they'd both found themselves in. All it was, was moving some goods. They weren't even important to the overall task and it seemed as though everything had gone wrong anyway.

"No, well," The man forced out a breath, his gaze flicking between his friend who was standing just a little in front of him, his male compatriot behind him, and the fourth person on the floor. He cleared his throat heavily, "You saw that thing."

"Yeah, the guy following us. And you saw the lightning." She added after a moment, nodding loosely to the far side of the warehouse where the impromptu lightshow had come from. "That guy probably didn't come alone."

"You think?"

She rolled her eyes at that, "We should get going. If there's more than just that one guy here, we should leave. What if there's other people who can do that?" The question was poised with a second prompt glance to the man, as if scrutinising him. The expression was returned, but not maintained, since all too quickly their eyes fell to the unconscious male.

"What the hell even happened?" was mumbled, the man's tone disbelieving. "He turned into Mikey. Like, exactly into him. Or," He paused, "Was it even that guy? What the hell can do that?"

"Well, whatever. The guy-- thing. Whatever it is, he's going to be out for a while. Let's go head back to the others." She shrugged, one finger tapping absentmindedly on the side of her leg as she started to walk away from the scene.

Only, the other man didn't move from where he was standing, shuffled steps leaving grooves in the dust covered floor, his fingers wrapping just a little too tight around his bat. "What's my name?"

"What?"

"My name. You tell me it, and I'll know it's you."

There was a brief pause, and a huffed laugh. "Really? You're doing this right now? We've just been attacked by who knows what; from the sounds of it the fighting that was happening is over and I highly doubt we've won, otherwise we would have already left, right?" she raised an eyebrow, and when she didn't get a reply she scoffed. "Come on, man, we need to go. The cops are probably crawling around this place."

"I'll move when you tell me my name."

"How do I know that you're you? You could be asking for your name so you can sell the lie more." She said, her voice climbing an octave at the statement, but the man didn't seem to budge. He was just watching, staring.

He wasn't budging.

Eventually, the woman's expression fell just that little bit. It was barely anything, just a slight drop to the shoulders, a tilt of the head. She lifted her free hand and ran it through her hair, her expression changing minutely as she ran her fingers through the strands, as if the length of them was slightly surprising. Though the action looked so casual, so carefully normal.

The biggest change though, was her voice. It took on a slightly vexed tone, almost as if she was let down by the turn of events.

"Why does everyone always ask that question?" She questioned, "Is it James?"

"Elijah." came the clipped and quiet reply.

"Man, so close."

Between one second and the next, the resounding sound of air parting as the momentum of the moving bat picked up rapidly, and a satisfying thwack sound as the wood came into contact with the man's cheek, sending him crumpling to the ground. The only woman in that group was the one laid out on the floor amongst, now, her two equally unconscious friends.

Cole just looked over the group for a second, a tiny lick of blackened smoke finally tumbling off his hands and dissipating into nothingness, the rush of his power fading to a low adrenaline fuelled hum in the back of his head as if it was itching to be used again so soon. He took a minute, moving from person to person. First, checking that they could and were breathing, then using a pocket full of zip-ties to fasten their hands behind their backs when he was content in the knowledge that other than superficial injuries, the knocks to the head weren't anything significant. He stepped back.

His foot knocked against the baseball bat he'd discarded beforehand, rolling lazily over the floor.

"So much for no fighting." Cole mumbled as he cast his attention elsewhere in the warehouse. Overall, it was silent. No shouting, no nothing.

Which could either mean good things, or bad.

He carded a hand through his hair and pulled his scythe from his back, rolling the wooden handle in his hands before he set off walking through the brightly lit building.

"Always that question."

AO3

#Third Oni AU #ninjago #lego ninjago #lego #cole #cole ninjago #cole brookstone #Oni cole #oni #kai ninjago #jay ninjago #zane ninjago #nya ninjago #shape-shifting #mcfanely writes #mcfanely aus

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elk-ambrose-scott-writing · 3 years

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Top Five Favourite Classic Books

Genre: Adventure

Author: Jack London

When it was published: 1906

Plot in 20 words or less: Spicy good doggo lives rough life, wolves eat everything, and eventually someone manages to pet doggo.

“Normal For The Times” Factor: Racism, in text and in Jack London’s personal views (see the link at the bottom for the full post and explanation of what those messed up views are)

Why it’s awesome:

White Fang is one of the first classic books I sought out and read as a younger adult.

While the graphic animal death isn’t for everyone, I really enjoyed seeing everything from White Fang’s point of view, and I found him to be an interesting character to see the world of the Yukon through.

I was drawn in by the horror elements to the introduction, and the more realistic view of nature that other animal POV books I’d read (much love to the Warrior Cats series but they aren’t realistic AT ALL) didn’t have. It felt, to me, like an animal book written for those who wanted to learn about animals.

It was paced well, it was written well, and I really, really enjoyed the ending.

Genre: Tragedy

Author: F. Scott Fitzgerald

When it was published: 1925

Plot in 20 words or less: Friendly chap meets his cousin’s ex and dude’s got mad money and great people skills, both lead to his downfall

“Normal For The Times” Factor: Character expresses challenged racism, negative stereotypes about Jewish people (proof in full post)

Why it’s awesome:

The Great Gatsby feels like a fly stuck in amber; it cannot exist outside of the time period it’s in, and it’s one of the most fascinating times in history.

I was hooked from the first sentence.

I connected with Nick, though the character I was drawn to the most was, of course, Jay Gatsby. I adored him. I didn’t see what he saw in Daisy and I kind of wanted her to quietly leave the novel and never return, but I also see that Gatsby and Daisy were both flawed people.

It’s a well-written book with excellent characters, and it is a slice of history that deserves it’s timelessness.

Genre: Comedy, tragedy, mostly a social commentary

Author: Miguel de Cervantes

When it was published: 1605 (for the first part)

Plot in 20 words or less: A man from La Mancha has a midlife crisis and decides reality is overrated and becomes a “knight”

“Normal For The Times” Factor: Written in old Spanish, and translated from old Spanish, so some of the phrases are a bit dated. Pretty sure de Cervantes was not a racist or sexist dude, but he’s also been dead for like 300 years.

Why it’s awesome:

Don Quioxote is the second most translated book ever, after the freaking Bible, so you know it’s gotta be good.

It’s like the JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure of literature; once you read it, you see tributes and references to it EVERYWHERE.

While it is a tragedy and a portrayal of Spanish society at the time, it’s also freaking hilarious, which makes the tragedy hit all the harder.

I don’t know if I agree with scholars who say it’s the greatest work of literature, but it’s definitely one of the best.

If you haven’t read it I’d recommend trying it, but make sure you get a good translation because the book is originally in Spanish. If you don’t want to read this long book, see if you can find a recording of “The Man of La Mancha”, the musical play I mentioned. It’s also excellent!

Genre: Horror, Science Fiction (The first of it’s kind, the OG scifi novel)

Author: Mary Shelley

When it was published: 1818

Plot in 20 words or less: Man creates monster, decides to be a deadbeat parent, comes to regret it

“Normal For The Times” Factor: None, except for the way the novel is written which is different from how we use language now. Mary Shelley was fucking badass and had awesome parents.

Why it’s awesome:

Even before I’d read the book, I knew the basic gist of the story, and I knew some of the famous lines from the 1930’s motion picture.

When I read the book I fell in love. It’s much different from the movie, which I don’t understand, and so far there hasn’t been many mainstream movies that capture the greatness of this work.

Pop culture leaves a lot to be desired, including perpetuating the idea that the Creature is called Frankenstein. Ugh.

I could go on and on, but I will sum it up with this quote from Tumblr: knowledge is knowing that Frankenstein is not the monster. Wisdom is knowing that Frankenstein is the monster.

Back to the great book. And it is great. Not only is it the first science fiction novel, it is also an examination of science, of society, and of the consequences of abuses of both.

It is a classic because the themes of alienation and of science without morality is still so relevant today. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is an example of all the best parts of sci-fi, and if you haven’t read it, do so. Then join me in ranting about how the movies got most of it wrong.

Genre: Science Fiction

Author: H. G. Wells

When it was published: 1898

Plot in 20 words or less: The Martians are coming, it’s definitely a metaphor for something, cough on aliens to save the world

“Normal For The Times” Factor: H. G. Wells was an anti-Semitic eugenicist, so there’s that

Why it’s awesome:

This book is the quintessential science fiction novel, as famous as Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.

It’s narrated by a nameless man living in London, and the whole book details the arrival of Martians, his perilous escape from them, and the world under the Martians and their eventual defeat via germs.

I personally found the narrative very tense, despite the old-timey language, and I enjoyed the suspense I was in despite knowing how the whole thing ended.

This one, like Frankenstein, doesn’t have a movie adaptation exactly like the book, as it keeps getting updated for the era the movie is in. Unlike Frankenstein, that doesn’t take away from the book. While the book is tense and well-written, the main character is just kind of there.

The whole book is used to illustrate why colonialism is really bad to England, which I personally enjoy because it’s hilarious how they didn’t get it, though Wells seemed to not really understand himself the depth of the way England tried to wipe out entire cultures. It was more than just diseases. CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation for the uninitiated) recently started broadcasting the Australian adaptation of this story, and I’m looking forward to watching it. he novel isn’t for everyone, but it was a good introduction to scifi for tiny Elka, and is a good example of the genre.

Full Post Here: https://wordpress.com/post/elkascott.wordpress.com/1498

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jerseydeanne · 3 years

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Some free PR advice for Harry: Put a sock in it - Since moving to America, it's become obvious that the Duke of Sussex needs to re-familiarise himself with the concept of national pride

I’m going to give Prince Harry some PR advice. And it’s the best he’s ever going to get. It doesn’t necessitate lengthy conference Zooms or complex ‘communications strategy’ spreadsheets – complete with popularity flowcharts – and, unlike the advice he will have been paying through the nose for from the team of Hollywood supremos responsible for rebranding the exposure of Janet Jackson’s right breast at the 2004 Super Bowl (from “nipplegate” to “a wardrobe malfunction”), it has the bonus of being free.

Harry: stop talking. Pipe down. Quit chattering. Put a sock in it. Shush.

It shouldn’t be hard for the Discontented Duke to stick to this gagging order. After all, it was freedom of speech Harry was criticising when he made his own “boob” on actor Dax Shepard’s podcast last Thursday. Oh, and one of America’s founding principles. But let’s not get bogged down by any small print dating back to 1791.

It was while on a brief break from the public bashing of his own father (and, implicitly, his grandparents) that Harry apparently got confused about the First Amendment that protects basic US freedoms including freedom of religion, freedom of speech, freedom of the press, the right to assemble, and the right to petition the government.

“I’ve got so much I want to say about the First Amendment as I sort of understand it, but it is bonkers,” he said during the podcast aptly entitled Armchair Expert last week. “I don’t want to start going down the First Amendment route, because that’s a huge subject,” he maintained with a commendable if, by that point, entirely redundant caution, “and one which I don’t understand because I’ve only been here a short time, but you can find a loophole in anything.”

If you listen hard enough here, you can actually hear the dull thud of Harry’s old Eton history master’s forehead against plasterboard. And that thwacking sound? That’s Meghan giving her well-meaning husband a handbagging with her Burberry Baby Bridle: “Not the Constitution, Haz – never the Constitution!”

But there’s more royal wisdom where that came from. “You can capitalise or exploit what’s not said,” he muses, “rather than uphold what is said.” The backlash was swift and brutal. Americans are funny like that. They’re as fond of their founding principles and freedoms as we are of our similarly archaic monarchy. Just imagine if an American came over here and trashed the Royal family. Wait – that’s right. We don’t have to. And what with the ink on Harry’s passport stamp still drying, a storm of strongly worded suggestions ensued. If the prince doesn’t like it in The Land of the Free, perhaps he should head back home?

“Don’t let the doorknob hit you, Windsor,” tweeted Fox News TV host Laura Ingraham on Sunday. “This is why July 4th is referred to as Losers Day in your homeland,” added Managing Editor of the Washington Examiner, Jay Caruso. “Prince Harry attacking America’s First Amendment tells you everything you need to know,” chimed in veteran Navy Intelligence officer Jack Posobiec, as incensed fellow Americans piled in.

“His family is one of the world’s largest welfare recipients [sovereign grants] of all time with no real jobs and no set policy, which he benefited from for years. That is bonkers.” And while one threatened to fly over to Ginge and Cringe’s Santa Barbara mansion and “dump a box of Tetley in his pool if he keeps running his mouth like this”, another reasoned that: “Well, here in America, he has the right to say stupid things.”

Lucky for Harry he has that right. Because thanks to a dangerous combination of entitlement and fatuousness, those stupid things are likely to keep on coming. They have to now, don’t they? It’ll be in the multi-million-dollar contracts drawn up with Netflix and Spotify (incidentally, though not coincidentally, the floggers of Shepard’s podcast), and the glittering partnerships forged with the likes of Procter & Gamble that Harry needs to keep up the claptrap – let it all hang out.

And one wonders how long it will take to percolate that the demands made by these companies and organisations will be more onerous and exploitative than any once made by The Firm. Well done you for getting out of opening yet another bridge in Chester! Now if you could please detail your most intimate struggles to 60 million people in a singing-and-dancing cabaret of grief, that would be great.

If I’ve learned anything from living in the US for over a decade, it’s this: Americans are among the most welcoming people you will ever meet. They will take you in, relish your charming British idiosyncrasies and let you start afresh, if that’s what you need. But beneath that unparalleled generosity of spirit, one thing powers them more than any other – and while Prince Harry’s researching his adoptive country’s founding principles, he might want to re-familiarise himself with the concept of national pride.

by Celia Walden

#celia walden #prince harry #shut up #first amendment #america

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jcogginsawriter · 3 years

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Hand to Hand: Mark Waid’s Flash

I have been a fan of comic book characters for a long time. I started with the cartoons, and as I got older, I began doing deep dives into wikis, reading fanfiction, and participating in that shallowest of internet past times, the vs debate. I dabbled in writing fanfic for myself, but I spent far more time thinking about writing fanfic instead. I would come up with all these ideas about what I would take from the various different versions of the characters, and don’t get me started on the idea of Crossovers. The point is, I knew a lot of what happened in the comics, but I never read many comics. I didn’t know where my local comic shop was, and even if I did, I wouldn’t have had the money to spend on them. The comics that I did read were usually fan translations of manga. I did read a few comics, big name stories like Death of Superman or Crisis on Infinite Earths, but they were few and far between.

Recently, I’ve begun to change that. I now follow several comics as they come out, most notably the current X-line. This change sprang in part because I began reading a lot more comics criticism. In particular, I followed the blog of a certain Superman fan, and began to eagerly digest his various takes. I wanted to be able to ask him questions about new comics without looking like an idiot (This is how 90 percent of my interactions on comics twitter go, BTW) and that was a kick in the pants for me.

After getting into a steady habit, I decided to look into reading some of the classic runs I’d read so much about throughout life. To go from knowing them second hand, to knowing them first hand. After a bit of hemming and hawing, I’ve settled on Mark Waid’s legendary run of Flash Comics to start off with.

(Spoiler Warning for some 30 year old comics, by the way)

As of this writing, I have read up to the final issue of his story arc Dead Heat, wherein Wally does battle with the speed cultist Savitar. Before we get into things like plot and characters, I want to discuss the art, because no discussion of comic books is really complete without talking about the art. Unfortunately, the art in this run hasn’t done much for me, but that’s not really it’s fault. I read this comics in manner that they were not created to be read, digitally and zoomed in. These comics were drawn with physical issues in mind, and I don’t doubt that they’re good in that format. It also doesn’t help that I’ve read far more manga than I have American comics. American comics have never clicked with me the way manga does. Even now, I still find the layout of manga more legible than the layout of an American comic. That’s not a value judgment, it’s just my personal experience.

I do distinctly recall thinking that the art was better up to issue #79 (The conclusion to the Return of Barry Allen storyline), than it was after. I prefer the less exaggerated character designs, and lighter inks, though it could very well be a case of me having gotten used to the initial style and not liking the change. One thing that thing I can say about the art is that it helped me grasp how Wally’s costume differed from Barry’s. Before this, I was incapable of separating them in my mind, but seeing them side by side made it clear to me how different Wally’s Costume was colored and shaded.

Now, onto the writing of the run, we’ll start with the lead, Wally West. My previous touchstone for Wally was the Justice League series from the DCAU, which I watched a lot as a kid. The Wally in these comics comes off as more serious that his DCAU incarnation. Not too serious, he still cracks jokes, but he’s more on the ball. He takes his adventures as seriously as any hero would, rather than the more carefree attitude I recall his DCAU version having. This is not unsurprising, Wally here is the lead whereas there he was part of an ensemble cast, and here we get his internal monologue which gives us a much more thorough sense of his headspace. Not to mention, the DCAU version was voiced, so we know with no ambiguity what tone his dialogue’s in. In text, tone is more up to interpretation.

Perhaps the biggest thing that set Comic Wally apart from DCAU Wally is that the Wally in the comic was more consistently angry and frustrated. While his DCAU incarnation had hidden depths, I can’t recall a time when he got seriously angry. This Wally is frequently irritated, usually by things which are enitrely understandable. On occasion, his irritability causes him to be rougher with the bad guys than he could be, and that feels uncomfortable sometimes, though thus far he hasn’t gone too far.

Going into this, I knew that one of the issues that Wally had to overcome was his mental block about surpassing Barry, and to my surprise, it wasn’t as much of a through-line as I expected. I was expecting it to be a reoccurring issue that was solved by the Return of Barry Allen storyline, but in reality there are only one or two times something like it comes up, usually in the context of him not being able to do the vibrating through walls trick. In the Return of Barry Allen, it feels more like an issue introduced in that story than a long running plot line. Granted, it may only feel this way because I’m solely reading Mark Waid’s Flash. I didn’t read the issues prior to his take over, so that storyline could have been more apparent there for all I know.

Moving on, starting with Waid’s run had another knock on effect, that being that the character introductions aren’t introductions. I came into this expecting to see when Wally met Linda, when he met Jay Garrick, when Pied Piper redeemed himself, but all of that happened before Waid took over the book, so they’re already part of the cast from the start. Again, not a flaw of the work, it’s just a result of my personal experiences. Now, let’s take a look at some of these characters.

I’ve heard a lot about Linda and Wally’s romance, and so far it’s not bad. I wouldn’t rate it as one of the best of all time, but I haven’t gotten to most of the major moments yet, so that’s not a huge surprise. One thing that’s very apparent is the Lois Lane DNA in her character. Some of that is to be expected, which the love interest to your superhero is a reporter, but I see a lot of similarities in their personality as well. There’s a lot of the same fire in her. Fortunately, the fact that Wally’s identity is public lends a very different arc to their relationship than what you see with Lois and Clark, so Linda doesn’t come off as a Lois rip-off. Linda’s concerns that there’s no place for her in Wally’s wild superhero life is the kind of relationship hurdle that isn’t present in Lois and Clark’s Relationship.

Next, let’s take a look at the first Flash, Jay Garrick. Within this series, Jay is perfectly pleasant, and by no means unlikable, but he also comes across as...kind of superfluous? There are three elderly male speedsters in this comic, and of all of them Jay is by far the least defined and has the least role. Max Mercury is the Wally’s mentor in the ways of speed, the one with the most knowledge of the Speed Force. He’s basically what I expected Jay Garrick to be going into this. The third of the group is Johnny Quick, a speedster who is the father of another speedster, Jesse Quick. Jesse is also very skeptical of Max Mercury’s teachings, which veer from the scientific into the mystical.

Because Johnny takes the role of skeptic, Jay is left without a role in the narrative because being the nicest of Wally’s friend group. Veering over to Hollywood for a second, whenever a book gets adapted into a movie or TV Show, minor characters get lost in the transition. Either they get composited with other characters, or they get cut entirely. Game of Thrones is the most prominent example in recent memory. I bring this up because, if Waid’s Flash were to go through that process, it’s hard to argue that Jay wouldn’t get the ax. Despite being the most important of them in the context of the universe at large, Jay is the least important Speedster in this narrative. Of course, Jay’s importance in the context of the larger universe means that in this hypothetical adaptation, he probably be composited into either max or Johnny. More likely Max, since mentor is the logical position for the first Flash to take in the Third Flash’s narrative.

I mentioned Jess Quick there, so let’s talk about her. Thus far, her most prominent role in the narrative has been to call Wally out and be his critic, though she does have very good reasons to be angry. In the Terminal Velocity storyline, Wally believes he’ll die soon, and tells the Flash Family that Jesse will be his successor, but it turns out to be a lie in order to motivate Bart Allen to take things more seriously. Jesse has remained angry with Wally since then, though it hasn’t seriously impacted her hero work. That’s good, because her continued competence lends legitimacy to her anger within the narrative. She’s not being punished for being mad at Wally for mistreating her. Hopefully it stays that way going forward.

Now let’s take a look at the character Wally chose over Jesse, Bart Allen AKA Impulse. I’ll say up front that I’m not reading Bart’s solo series during this read through, as I didn’t want the hassle of going back and forth between books. As such, the only issues of it that I’ve looked at are the ones that tie into the Dead Heat arc. I feel it’s important for me to say this, because I’m basing my opinions of Bart primarily on his showings in Wally’s book, not his own. In Wally’s book, Bart’s character flaws are more on display.

Bart is a character deliberately designed to be obnoxious, and such characters are a hard tightrope to walk in fiction. Gotta be annyoing enough to get the point across, but not annoying enough to turn people off from the work. Bart in Wally’s book isn’t perfectly balanced, and tends toward the too much pile. Not to an egregious extent, but a little bit. I found myself echoing Wally’s frustration with Bart more than a few times. In Bart’s defense, Wally does share some of the blame here. He doesn’t do a very good job as a mentor, and handing those duties off to Max is probably for the best.

I find it interesting, that a character like Wally who is so defined by inheriting a legacy is a poor mentor, to both Bart and Jesse. He makes different mistakes with both of them, but he still fails both of them. I’m eager to see how that plays out in the future issues.

Now that we’ve discussed the supporting cast, let’s discuss some of the book’s villains. We’ll start with the one who is most infamous, Eobard Thawne. Thawne’s spends the majority of his time in this book thinking he’s Barry Allen, and if I’m being honest, he’s more effective under that guise that he is as Eobard. The scenes where what appears to be Barry Allen turns evil out of jealousy of his successor are powerful, more so than the more traditional villain Eobard displays after the reveal. Not that it would have been a good idea for it to actually be Barry, of course. Much as I prefer Wally to Barry, having Barry go full supervillain would have been very out of character. In any case, this run had a profound impact on Eobard’s character going forward, solidifying him as an agent of toxic fanboyism, making him a dark mirror of Wally West.

The next major villain of the run is the cult slash terrorist organization Kobra. That might bring thoughts of GI Joe to your mind, and you honestly aren’t far off. So far as this run goes, the biggest differences between DC’s Kobra and Hasbro’s is A) DC’s version prefer green over blue, and B) Hasbro’s version has more in the way of distinct characters. Kobra thus far is more of a plot device than anything else. They’re generic terrorists with little to make them distictive. Their storyline, Terminal Velocity, is more notable for it’s introduction of the Speed Force, Wally preparing for his upcoming ‘death’, and Linda going on a revenge quest after said ‘death’. All things that Kobra is incidental to, any villainous organization would have sufficed.

The final, as of my current point in the run, major villain is Savitar. Savitar was formerly a soviet test pilot who gained a connection to a the speedforce, gave himself the name of Hindu god, and started a speed worshipping cult. It says a lot about my mind that my immediate thoughts upon reading Savitar’s origin were. “Huh, an AU where Hal Jordan became a Speedster the same way would be neat.”. Savitar is in some ways an improvement on the Kobra Cult from Terminal Velocity. This time the Cult has a more direct connection to the Flash and his mythos. Dead Heat is by no means a retread of Terminal Velocity, but if you wanted to mesh them into one story, it wouldn’t be hard. And it’d improve on both, in some ways.

One of the things I like to do in my fanfic ideas is connect the other speedsters to Thawne’s theme of Toxic Fandom, and it wouldn’t be hard to do that with Savitar. His entire motivation is to deprive those he considers unworthy of their speed, and that can easily by played as a metaphor for gatekeeping.

Over all, while the run is far from perfect, I must say I’m enjoying these comics a good deal, and if you’re like me and have read a lot about comics without actually reading them, I don’t think you’d regret jumping into them.

#opinions #personal experience #dc comics #The Flash #wally west #mark waid

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razzle-zazzle · 4 years

Text

Christmas gift for @incorrect-myinnerdemon-quotes, who requested I write something about Cole discovering her headcanon of his true potential form.

1879 Words

Honestly, Cole should have seen this coming.

And yet, it still made no sense. Yeah, his Earth Punch involved a bit of lava, but not to this extent. And lava was more of a fire thing anyway, right?

Maybe he should start from the beginning.

It hadn’t been an unusual morning, and certainly not one which Cole might expect would lead to this. He and the others had breakfast, went through their morning katas, and then broke off to do some individual training of their own choosing.

Cole had been working on basic form today, putting on some music to dance to. He didn’t particularly care if the others decided to watch; he was more than comfortable dancing in front of them. Besides, they were off doing their own things.

Cole would admit to having ulterior motives when he decided to dance that morning—but it was for good reason. He knew that “mastery of the sixth sense” was Zane’s thing, but this was different. Cole had been hearing this beat in his head for days now, an abstract rhythm he couldn’t place a name to. He’d been playing hundreds of songs trying to find the one it matched up to, but none of it did. So this morning, after trying and failing to match the beat to the songs he’d picked out, Cole figured he might as well just turn the music off entirely.

That, Cole decided, was when things started to get weird.

It wasn’t a hard beat to follow—unique as it was, Cole could pick out the basic pieces and how they fit together, one of the perks of being the son of a musician—but that wasn’t to say it wasn’t interesting. There was something primal about it, something almost instinctive in each movement Cole made; before he knew it he was humming along.

It was then that the familiar surge of power and heat from his Earth Punch made itself known, and Cole had to stop. Why his powers decided now would be a good time to act up was beyond Cole, but a quick shake got the buzz out. Satisfied, Cole resumed dancing.

It was after the third or fourth time—Cole wasn’t sure—that his powers activated without him calling upon them that Cole realized. It was an interesting discovery, that his powers and this song in his head were linked somehow.

Before Cole could really take the time to ponder that, the alarm went off. Joining the others on the bridge, Cole shoved the discovery to the back of his mind to ponder later.

“Another crime? Really?” Kai asked, towel around his shoulders. “Can’t the police handle it?”

“It’s a little more than that this time.” Nya replied, face drawn into a grim smile. “You know how there’s the charity run, today?”

The others nodded, perfectly aware. Nya continued, pulling up a map of the route.

“The police got an anonymous tip that there may be a terrorist attack at the event. So they’re taking extra precautions, ya’know?”

Everyone froze at that. Terrorists were always harder to deal with than the run-of-the-mill thieves and garden-variety murderers that the ninja usually went up against. Not quite at the level of threats like the Devourer or the Overlord, but there was an unpredictability in a terrorist’s fanaticism that made them harder to take down.

The briefing hadn’t lasted much longer after that, the information too sparse to go into detail and the prep time too short for more in-depth research. They got ready, placing a ninja at each key location along the route. They were as ready as they could possibly be.

Which, as was becoming the norm, was not ready enough.

Even being caught by surprise, the ninja were able to keep people safe, able to handle themselves fine. It was unusual, for the ninja to be caught so off guard and still do so well—but perhaps that was just the effect of being caught off guard so many times. Or they’d gotten lucky. Either way.

Cole was grappling with a particularly troublesome masked fiend, rolling around on the roof they’d ended up on. Without even noticing, Cole had begun to hum, the same abstract beat he’d been dancing to that morning.

And that, Cole knew, was when it started.

It had been almost unnoticeable at first, a simple rush of adrenaline. But it had quickly grown into that familiar surge of strength and warmth and life that Cole associated with his Earth Punch, quickly spreading outwards from his chest to his entire body. And it didn’t fade into the comfortable power Cole was so used to—if anything, it got more intense, until Cole was pressing an obsidian-coated hand to his chest with a short cry of pain.

As soon as the pain started, it ebbed away, leaving Cole standing above his opponent with an almost dizzying sense of strength coursing through his veins. His opponent, who had been staring for some reason Cole didn’t understand, yelped when Cole stepped forwards, quickly dashing away.

“Hey!” Cole stumbled forwards, his legs taking a moment to warm up for some odd reason, “Get back here!” With a short leap, Cole quickly caught up to the fleeing fiend, pinning them to the floor with a sudden ease that hadn’t been there before. Quickly, he brought out the cuffs he’d been provided and snapped them into place, setting his captive down on the pavement beside him.

It was then that Cole began to realize, began to properly take note of the obsidian coating his hand. Of the soft orange glow of lava spilling out from cracks in the obsidian, where his joints would be. Of the sudden energy buzzing in his limbs, the way he’d moved faster than he normally did. Of the sudden clarity with which what had been only a beat became a song in his head, the notes familiar and foreign. And it was then, as Cole was processing this, that he began to freak out a little.

His face burned as tears spilled from his eyes. But moving his hand up to brush them away revealed them to be lava, actual molten rock, instead of the salty water they were supposed to be. The pavement he’d been pressing his hand into had grown soft under him, and as he stood up he realized it wasn’t just his hands that had heated up; there were footprints in the pavement, indents where his knees had been.

Movement in the corner of his eye had Cole turning back to the terrorist, who was desperately trying to back away from Cole’s new form.

“Hey…” Cole said softly, still not fully processing whatever the hell was going on with his body. “Don’t run.” The snarl in his voice only made the guy yelp and back away faster.

Shit. Cole was at a loss. What to do? Could he grab the guy without hurting him? He had before, but looking back at the handprint in the pavement, maybe not.

“Cole!” Zane’s voice was a godsend, the automated lilt making Cole relax on reflex.

“Zane!” Cole whirled around, pointedly ignoring the way Zane flinched, surprise in his features. This was great, Zane was perfect for a situation like this. Calm and reserved, Cole was certain Zane would have some kind of advice or answer for Cole’s current predicament. And even if he didn’t, there was nobody who Cole trusted more to help with things like this.

“Cole… are you okay?”

Cole rubbed at his arm, absently noting that his clothes remained unharmed despite the literal lava only centimeters away. “I think so…? Nothing feels wrong, if that’s what you’re asking.” He smiled sheepishly. “I have no idea what’s going on with,” Cole gestured to himself, “this, so some help might be appreciated.”

Zane nodded. “I see.” He moved over to the handcuffed criminal, lifting the small person up with ease. “Let’s get this suspect turned into the police, and you back to the Bounty.”

Cole nodded. “Sounds great.”

+=+=+=+=+

And that’s how Cole got to where he is now, sitting on the deck with everyone else staring at him. He still hadn’t returned to normal, even as the sun set and it got dark. Could he go back to normal? Or was he stuck this way forever, all stone and obsidian and lava?

“So you really don’t know what’s going on?” Lloyd asked.

Cole shook his head, careful not to get flecks of molten rock all over the deck again. “No clue whatsoever.” He’d tried humming the song, hoping it would maybe change him back, but that just made him even more energized. As a result, Cole genuinely had no idea how to change back.

“Perhaps Cole simply has to wait until it fades.” Zane suggested, eliciting a frustrated sound from Jay.

“And how long will that take?” Jay near-shrieked. His expression morphed into hysteria. “Or what if it never fades? What if Cole is stuck like this forever?”

“I highly doubt that.” Wu interjected, having been silent until now. “Clearly that form takes energy to maintain; it is only a matter of time before Cole cannot sustain it.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “The question now is how long that will take.”

There was an obvious question in the air, everyone clearly wanting to ask how exactly Wu was so certain about Cole needing energy to maintain whatever his body was doing, but everyone knew they wouldn’t get a straight answer out of their sensei either way.

“So I’m stuck like this until it wears off?” Cole asked, just to be sure he understood. At Wu’s nod, he flopped over onto his back dramatically. “Great! I’ll just lie here and try not to set the deck on fire, then.” While he wasn’t keen on lying out here in the dark, Cole didn’t want to do below deck and risk starting a fire. He’d already left burnt footprints in the deck; it was only Zane’s quick thinking and Nya’s mastery of water that gave Cole a space to sit without scorching a hole through the deck. So he’d wait, out here, in the night, until the lava and obsidian went away. Even as his eyes pricked at the thought of waiting out here, alone, while everyone else ate dinner.

Cole was startled from his musings by Kai’s hand on his shoulder, warm and alive and reassuring. “And we’ll be right here until it goes away.” He said, like it was so obvious that they’d wait out here with Cole.

And Cole smiled, shoving down the whiny voice in his head insisting they shouldn’t do that.

And so they sat there on the deck, talking about whatever came to mind as they waited for Cole to wind down. And as the others ended up falling asleep, as Cole chatted with Zane even as the gray light of dawn began to fill the sky, Cole smiled again.

This was nice. Maybe, after he changed back and things wound down, Cole should try humming the song, see if he could trigger this form again.

Eventually, as the sky turned pink and orange, Cole felt himself relax, the buzz in his limbs fading away. As the energy left, Cole realized just how exhausted he was, not even bothering to try and get up as he let the exhaustion overtake him.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #cole ninjago #zaz writes #kai ninjago #nya ninjago #jay walker #zane julien #sensei wu #lloyd garmadon #there's not really a specific time this takes place #it just is #this was really fun to write thank #even if the ending feels a little cut off #yes cole is planning to trigger it again #and pretend to not know how it happened

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sn0wshimmer · 5 years

Text

hhhh I need to talk about this warriors au sitting around in my brain anyways here goes

Differences in clan custom:

- It’s pretty normal to bring in and/or mate with outsiders so as to keep the gene pool not so... incesty...

- Clans pretty much are a large family unit. It’s not uncommon for cats in the same age group to think of each other as siblings despite not being from the same litter.

- LGBTQ+ is seen as a normal thing and accepted without much question. It’s customary for cats to introduce themselves with their pronouns included.

- Mollies can be deputies/leaders while nursing kits. The idea that they can’t is just sexism.

- Sign language is a standard skill because,,,, let’s be real,,, it’s pretty much practicality.

- Disabled cats can be warriors because the only reason they can’t is ableism.

Storyline changes:

- Tiny was found by Bluestar on her own rather than Thistleclaw and Tigerpaw. He becomes part of ThunderClan under the name of Nightpaw, and later Nightstorm.

- Rusty and Princess join ThunderClan at the same time as Firepaw and Kindlepaw. Firepaw is trans.

- Sandpaw and Dustpaw don’t bully Firepaw. However, Sandpaw is generally unpleasant because of losing her father recently, and Dustpaw is destructive and unpleasant because he and Ravenpaw were loner kits with an abusive mother before coming to ThunderClan. They both get support.

- Ravenpaw stays in the clan and earns the warrior name Ravenfeather. He has support for his anxiety and PTSD.

- Mosskit is the child of Bluestar and Thistleclaw (result of a one night stand). They are non-binary and go by they/them. They’re a ThunderClan cat and their warrior name is Mossheart. They mentor Firepaw.

- Tigerclaw is less Obviously Evil, he’s a lot more covert about his actions.

- Tigerclaw is Snowfur’s son and Whitestorm’s brother. That’s why Bluestar falls apart after that, because that was her nephew and she loved him dearly.

- WindClan doesn’t get kicked out because that’s whack and really never would have happened in any sort of realistic scenario.

- Brokenstar is less... stupid. He makes smarter decisions. Basically, instead of training young kits, he collects lots of rogue allies and wages war on the other three clans.

- Crookedstar X Bluestar instead of Oakheart X Bluestar. Because the idea of this just being a taboo subject that a lot of people kind of know about, but they’re just rumours and like as if our two clan leaders would have had an affair with each other? Gold.

- Crooked X Blue have Mistyfoot, Stonefur and Silverstream. Bluestar pretty much stares down her daughter and thinks “why did she do literally the exact same thing I did” and Silverstream’s death is the first thing that starts pushing her towards breaking.

- Stormkit and Featherkit go to RiverClan without a fight because the claim does belong to the mother’s clan regardless of circumstance. Graystripe doesn’t change clans (he can’t bring himself to leave his entire family for one that won’t trust him) but is still very much present in his kits’ lives.

- Firepaw, Kindlepaw and Graypaw stay apprentices until the end of the second book.

- Dustpelt, Ravenfeather and Sandstorm become warriors before the other three apprentices.

- Cloudtail is Ruby’s son. Ruby is leader of BloodClan (renamed “The Clowder). She couldn’t deal with having a son and leading The Clowder, so she gave him to Nightstorm instead.

- Fireheart, Kindleflame, Nightstorm and Cloudtail actually have significant family relationships.

- Cloudtail, Ashfur and Ferncloud are foster siblings and it’s relevant.

- Cloudtail, Ashfur and Ferncloud are Sandstorm’s younger siblings and it’s relevant.

- Dust X Fern is changed so that it’s less creepy.

- Snowkit lives. His warrior name is Snowcloud.

- Cinderpelt, despite being disabled, is not a medicine cat because she’s disabled. She’s a tripod (born without a leg) rather than an accident happening. She becomes a medicine cat because she wanted to be one.

- Yellowfang was originally named Murkstorm, but Brokenstar changed her name as a way to disgrace her.

- Swiftpaw is Brambleflower (Bramblestar) and Tawnypelt’s older brother and it’s relevant.

- When The Clowder comes to the forest, Ruby tries to take Cloudtail back. He declines, and ThunderClan straight-up refuses to give him up.

- Leafpool is a demigirl and Squirrelflight is agenderflux. Brambleflower and Squirrelflight have a toxic relationship (so basically canon) and eventually the truth about the three’s parents is the final straw that break’s the camel’s back. Squirrelflight gets together with Nightcloud and Brambleflower with Stormfur. Alderheart and Sparkpelt are Nightcloud and Squirrelflight’s kits.

- Squirrelflight and Crowslash (Crowfeather) have a one-night stand resulting in kits. Squirrelflight rather than Leafpool because it’s less out of nowhere. Squirrelflight doesn’t know if the three are Brambleflower’s or Crowslash’s until the kits are born and Hollykit has almost his exact coat and Jayfeather has the exact same WindClan build. Crowfeather knows upon seeing them that they’re his but keeps quiet. Brambleflower notices but blames it on coincidence. He had some doubt in the back of his mind but it’s mostly gone by the time they’re apprentices.

- OKAY SO the story behind Squirrel X Crow. Instead of Feather X Crow, Crowslash and Squirrelflight have a highly passionate affair during the great journey, before breaking it off because they’d rather stay loyal to their clans. Squirrelflight moves on with Brambleflower and Crowslash “moves on” with Nightcloud. At first, all seems well until Squirrelflight and Brambleflower have a massive fight, and she finds herself at WindClan’s border. She is met with a Crowslash who immediately moves to comfort her. They end up getting more... sexual (Crow just can’t resist his old flame). Afterwards they are both extremely ashamed and vow to never speak of this again. That is, until Squirrelflight gets pregnant...

- Lionshade (Lionblaze) becomes the medicine cat instead of Jayfeather. He’s terrified of his powers and doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He and Jay say “fuck you” to destiny.

- Hollyheart (Hollyleaf) is the third cat. Their power is persuasion. They can convince others to agree with them or do things for them. They can’t make them do anything against their morals and it might not work against a particularly strong-willed kind of cat, but they just have a kind of... charisma about them. She doesn’t die in the last hope, but near the beginning of a Vision of Shadows.

- Dovewing is the fourth cat. Her powers remain the same. She’s pressured into becoming mates with Bumblestripe by her friends, Rosepetal and Blossomfall, because he loves her. However, she feels nothing for him. She’s only ever had one crush before, and it was on Sedgewhisker, an older molly from WindClan. She finds herself more and more drawn to another friend, however... Briarlight. Briarlight listens to Dovewing without judgement and helps her find the courage to break up with Bumblestripe. The two mollies become mates not long after.

- Ivypool is pretty much the same as she was in canon but Fernsong is a bit older. Blossomfall is their other mate and they’re in a happy polyamorous relationship with their lovely kits, Bristlefrost, Flippaw, Thriftpaw, Shellfur and Plumstone.

- Thornclaw’s a single dad, his kits are Eaglewing and Stemleaf.

- Leafpool dies in the final battle of Omen of the Stars, leaving Lionshade devastated. Hollyheart also dies. Lionshade then takes on his younger half-brother, Alderheart, as his apprentice, and it becomes a really precious sibling bond.

- Shadowpaw is Tigerheart’s son with another molly (not sure who yet). He’s still the same as in canon, just not Dovewing’s son. Lightleap and Pouncestep are still Dovewing’s daughters however.

- Tigerheart never becomes leader. In fact, he STAYS. DEAD. Tawnypelt is ShadowClan’s leader instead.

And yeah that’s all I got so far should I make a separate blog and turn this into a rewrite?

#warrior cats #Warriors #warriors au #warrior cats au #warrior cats rewrite

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theliberaltony · 5 years

Link

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Welcome to FiveThirtyEight’s weekly politics chat. The transcript below has been lightly edited.

sarahf(Sarah Frostenson, politics editor): In the latest issue of the New Yorker, reporter Jane Mayer suggests that Fox News has become a propaganda organ of the Trump administration, but who do you think really sets the agenda? Is President Trump influencing Fox or vice versa? And what does that mean for the state of journalism in the U.S., particularly in an era as politically polarized as ours?

Also welcome Jay Rosen, who is joining us today from New York University!

natesilver (Nate Silver, editor in chief): I suppose it’s a cop-out to say that it’s a symbiotic relationship? But I think Fox is following Trump’s lead — and the ratings he produces — more than the other way around.

One of the things I was wrongest about in the 2016 GOP primary was that once Fox went to war with Trump he’d have to back down (thinking of when Megyn Kelly asked him tough questions at that first debate, for example). But nope. He called their bluff.

That’s the short-term history, though. In the long term, Fox did an awful lot to lay the groundwork for Trump.

clare.malone (Clare Malone, senior political writer): Mayer points out this dynamic in the piece, about former chairman and CEO of Fox News Roger Ailes working with Fox to create the audience that would eventually come to love Trump. And in some ways, I think we have to concede that Trump was a member of that audience himself, before he ever ran.

jay.rosen (Jay Rosen, journalism professor at New York University): I think we should see it as a merger, in which it no longer makes sense to ask: Who is influencing whom? The two have become one. You do not have the necessary separation between the two to even say that Fox “covers” the Trump presidency since the Trump presidency is so frequently driven by what’s on Fox.

clare.malone: Maybe it’s a symbiotic merger … I think we can agree that Trump/Fox share a certain tabloid sensibility. That’s what really makes it all zing so well on TV.

sarahf: What was hard for me to grapple with in Mayer’s piece was how things at Fox have changed. To Clare’s point, Fox’s audience predates Trump and Fox News has long been a conservative outlet criticized for its right-leaning coverage coverage. So what’s really changed?

clare.malone:That’s an interesting question, Sarah. Mayer’s story does suggest that Ailes at least urged a valence of journalistic norms … that seems to have disappeared under the new leadership.

jay.rosen: This is the central problem in discussing Fox as a propaganda network. One way to answer that is that Ailes understood that it was in the long term interests of Fox News to preserve some independence or some space between itself and the political actors it promoted. Now that discipline is gone.

natesilver: If you’re a Weekly Standard (RIP) conservative, maybe you think that Trump does too much long-term damage to the cause of movement conservatism. But I don’t think the people running Fox News have never been those types of conservatives. They’ve always been attracted to the sensational, the conspiratorial and sometimes the slightly or not-so-slightly racist or xenophobic angle. They probably also want lower taxes and conservative Supreme Court justices. But if Trumpism is a bridge to get there — that’s more a feature than a bug for Fox News, especially since Trump is so good for ratings.

clare.malone: It’s basically the rise of New York Post conservatism over Wall Street Journal conservatism, I guess!

natesilver: I mostly agree, although the New York Post has a pragmatic streak on issues like gun control by virtue of being in New York, which Trump sort of had during the course of the campaign but has mostly given up since then.

Like, although it’s a subtle difference, I think Trump would be slightly more popular as a New York Post conservative than as a Fox News conservative.

But part of this is also that there’s not much of a market for the Weekly Standard/Wall Street Journal brand of conservatism. That was reflected in the failure of Marco Rubio’s campaign, for instance.

jay.rosen: Something that makes it hard to interpret the behavior of Fox News: For the most part, the people at Fox sneer at the legitimacy rituals of mainstream journalism. The network was founded on the rejection of those norms. But every once in a while they find the pressure too great and the situation “flips” into a conventional one, where the criticism is too great and they fire or reprimand someone, or pull back from a story. But it can be hard to predict when these normal rules take over, and when they will be rejected.

natesilver: Isn’t that a little bit like Trump himself? He will back down from a crisis, e.g. the government shutdown, at least occasionally. Every now and then — say, the State of the Union — he tries to exhibit some auspices of normality.

jay.rosen: Yes.

sarahf: But Fox does have some good reporters. I’m thinking about Chris Wallace here. So I don’t think they’ve entirely abandoned all journalism post-Ailes, even if they’re giving Sean Hannity a longer leash than they did, say, Glenn Beck.

natesilver: They do, yeah. Wallace is a very good reporter. Also, there’s Martha MacCallum. But as the New Yorker piece illustrated, their Trump boosterism is starting to impinge upon the journalistic parts of their operation.

clare.malone: I think we have to talk about the way that the public has no real sense of the separation between hard news reporters and opinion journalists at networks (and newspapers).

Journalists complain about that, but it’s not an intuitive distinction for a lot of people, i.e., Rachel Maddow is not a journalist, even if you like what she’s saying and even if she’s reporting tax returns (in a long and drawn out manner).

She has a point of view and I use MSNBC as an example because while they’re obviously different from Fox, they do very much have point of view in their journalism that can be difficult for viewers to separate out from their hard reporting.

jay.rosen: Disagree that if you have a point of view, you’re not a journalist. I wrote about it in greater detail here.

clare.malone: That’s not quite what I’m saying, Jay.

I think that shows where the host is first and foremost a personality — a Maddow, a Hannity — can have outsized effects on the way that the audience views the network as a whole.

natesilver: I’m with Jay on this, although I do think it’s interesting that Hannity has, at times, explicitly said he’s not a journalist — something you could never imagine Maddow saying.

I guess I think the whole opinion vs. newsroom distinction is problematic on a LOT of levels. Like, it’s a big problem for the New York Times and the Washington Post and the Wall Street Journal, because the distinction as they advance it doesn’t make a ton of sense to consumers.

jay.rosen: To me the relevant distinction is not whether a POV is present in the presentation, but whether you maintain high standards of verification, or regularly relax them to accomplish some other agenda you have that comes from outside journalism.

But a personality-driven style is different, I agree with that, Clare. That said, I still don’t understand why Rachel Maddow is not a journalist.

clare.malone: It’s fair to say that networks or a reporter with a certain point of view can have high standards of factual verification and can report really important work. For example, you can point to a place like Mother Jones that has a distinctly liberal point of view and still does a lot of investigative work. But I guess I’d again point to the, shall we call them, atmospheric effects that politically slanted presentation can have? A liberal news network’s opinion/point of view hosts might cover the Mueller investigation with greater gusto for instance, because of editorial choices that inherently influence what an audience should think is the most important news of the day.

natesilver: I guess I’m arguing that news organizations should abolish their opinion sections. If it’s good enough to run in the New York Times, you don’t need to segregate it into an opinion page, even if has a point of view or makes a devil’s advocate case. If it’s not good enough to meet those standards, it shouldn’t run.

clare.malone: Ooh, there’s a take, Nate!

sarahf: But Nate, we would never have learned about the #resistance inside the administration!

natesilver: I’m not sure we learned much about it anyway! Probably would have learned a lot more with a Maggie Haberman story about it.

clare.malone: I don’t think we should abolish the opinion sections of newspapers, though … but maybe there’s a better way to telegraph the editorial red line that exists between opinion/hard news?

Should they be published only in the weekend editions of the paper? Is that the silliest idea ever in the internet age?

A separate site online?

natesilver: Maybe by the comics page?

jay.rosen: Both the New York Times and the Washington Post use the news/opinion distinction to start doing things they should be doing to innovate in news by labeling them “opinion” to avoid a holy war in the newsroom.

natesilver: But again, readers absolutely should hold the New York Times (substitute WaPo or WSJ or anyone else as you see fit) accountable for dumb shit that runs in the op-ed pages.

They certainly benefit from the traffic and buzz those hot takes create.

clare.malone: But when you say that, Nate, do you mean the publisher should be held accountable? Or the top management/editors? Because a lot of people take their frustration out on reporters and writers who don’t have as much power.

natesilver: The publishers (so e.g. the Sulzbergers in the case of the NYT) should primarily be held accountable. But I also think the NYT executive editor Dean Baquet and every reporter in the newsroom should be furious at the Sulzbergers every time there’s some Bret Stephens piece engaging in hokey climate change semi-denialism, for instance.

clare.malone: Yes. That’s fair.

But to take it back to Fox …

Who should be accountable there? Is anyone accountable? WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?

jay.rosen: My solution to this mess is: All journalists state where they are coming from, all practice high standards of verification, all are transparent — explaining how they work — and all engage in dialogue with their users.

clare.malone: In some ways, the Mayer story and the anonymous Fox contributors who gave quotes is some people raising a kind of alarm from the inside. But does Fox chairman Rupert Murdoch and his sons have much incentive to change the network?

Of course not.

sarahf: The accountability question is a good one. I find this idea that Ailes was a moderating force … hard to believe?

Especially considering his preoccupation with Fox covering Obama.

clare.malone: The news is a business on some level, and if the businesspeople are not “The Trust” (a la Sulzbergers) it gets really tough. Journalism is both integral to democracy and accountable to capitalism. Unless you get Laurene Powell Jobs’s money. And even then, who knows …

jay.rosen: I don’t know if “moderating” is the right word. He was more concerned with maintaining power by making them fear you. Even your “friends” should fear you, Sarah.

natesilver: It’s hard to know, but it does seem from Mayer’s reporting that Fox News is extremely personality-driven. So Ailes and Murdoch matter a lot, as individuals. In the news organizations that I’ve worked for, I think outside observers actually overrate the influence of the two or three leaders at the top as compared to the overall institutional culture. But it doesn’t seem to be overrated at Fox News.

There’s also something to be said about the culture of sexual harassment at Fox, which also seems to flow in part from highly hierarchical and closely-held decision making processes.

jay.rosen: Here’s a question I have for FiveThirtyEight people: Do you think Fox and MSNBC are fundamentally similar, or fundamentally unlike each other despite the right vs. left POV?

clare.malone: I mean, they have roots in similar approaches to TV news.

But they’ve obviously gone different directions.

natesilver: I think about halfway in between similar and dissimilar.

sarahf: I would argue similar, though I don’t know MSNBC’s origin story as well.

natesilver: The business model is pretty similar, but a higher percentage of MSNBC programming adheres to higher (or at least more traditional) journalistic standards.

sarahf: Yeah, that’s the distinction I was going to make.

natesilver: But I don’t think there was the same degree of symbiosis between MSNBC and, say, the Obama administration, so that’s also something that’s qualitatively different.

jay.rosen: For me the key variable is standards of verification and in this they are fundamentally dissimilar.

natesilver: In some ways, CNN has somewhat more of those problems (not the verification problems, but the symbiosis problems), since they’re sort of a revolving door between both Democratic and Republican White Houses and with positions for them as an on-air commentators.

jay.rosen: Also, a story like Mueller pushing back on Buzfeed’s report. It is not likely that MSNBC would simply pretend this did not happen. But that kind of thing happens on Fox all the time. Which is not to say MSNBC doesn’t ignore inconvenient stories sometimes.

natesilver: Yeah, that seems like an important point. Very often, Fox News simply won’t cover the major story of the day.

clare.malone: It’s also possible there are/were a lot more left-leaning mags/outlets that served as feeders to bigger orgs that adhered to rigorous journalism norms — The New Republic, The American Prospect, Mother Jones, Washington Monthly, The Nation. The conservative movement had fewer. Maybe The Weekly Standard, The Federalist, The American Conservative? (I’m sure I’m missing some.)

There were just a lot more jobs for young journalists at left-leaning places. And conservative outlets tended to get more think tank/former political operative writers. That probably fed the ecosystem divide writ large.

natesilver: Clare, I think there’s an imbalance in that the rightmost 30 percent (just a rough guesstimate) of the news-reading audience is catered to by a small number of outlets (e.g. Fox News), whereas remaining 70 percent is catered to by a large number of outlets.

So you have a large field of news organizations that’s center-left, on average. It’s definitely not right down the middle, in part because their readerships lean left because the most conservative 30 percent of the audience is missing.

sarahf: And for that 30 percent, Fox News is their main/only source of political news, at least according to a 2014 Pew Research study.

jay.rosen: This was another key moment in Mayer’s article because it makes an important distinction. The speaker is Nicole Hemmer, assistant professor of presidential studies at the University of Virginia’s Miller Center and the author of “Messengers of the Right,” a history of the conservative media’s impact on American politics, “Fox is not just taking the temperature of the base—it’s raising the temperature,” she says. “It’s a radicalization model.”

That’s different from just “appealing” to the base.

sarahf: Unpack that a little more for us, Jay. How is it different?

natesilver: Some of the stuff that appears on the Lou Dobbs program is extremely — “radical” would be a polite word for it, frankly.

jay.rosen: It’s because it’s a leadership strategy. Not striking a responsive chord in the audience, but pulling it somewhere. If you have someone in your family who has been changed by Fox News (I do) you get this distinction right away.

sarahf: If Fox News really has become the propaganda organ of the Trump administration, what are the implications? Do we really have an example of “state TV” on our hands? And does this just mean the polarization in news will get worse?

clare.malone: I do think that we’ve got a problem for democracy with what’s going on at Fox News because it does spread misinformation and disinformation. And liberal democracies do best when they’ve got an educated citizenry. And he fact that journalistic lines have been blurred so completely there is a real harm. I’m not sure what happens with Fox.

jay.rosen: The implications are that 30 percent of the electorate is being isolated in an information loop of its own, and increasingly do not live in the same world as the rest of the voters.

natesilver: One thing that helps both Fox and Trump to succeed is the sort of autoimmune response that they generate. Journalists get outraged — occasionally they get trolled by something minor but usually, the outrage is fully justified! And so they drop their “view from nowhere” (to use Jay’s term) veneer.

But because the audience has been taught for years that the “view from nowhere” is how you know when a new organization is “objective” and trustworthy, it doesn’t say “gee, this outrage must mean the offense by Fox or Trump was really serious.” Instead, it thinks that Trump’s point is being proven!

Or at least, that’s one somewhat stylized view of what’s going on.

It’s worth remembering that Trump is a rather unpopular president and that the average voter trusts the New York Times a lot more than she trusts Trump.

Both Fox and Trump are quite smart at understanding where the weaknesses are in the journalistic immune system.

They might be smarter still if they dialed it back by 10 percent, but that’s a minor quibble.

#IFTTT #Politics – FiveThirtyEight #politics #538 #A FiveThirtyEight Chat

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evalulu · 6 years

Text

A little thing based off this by @xmafiacatx! It gets a little bloody, so do be warned.

Fuze could hardly see, the dim lights further muddled by the tint of his visor on his helmet. His shoulder was bleeding, grazed by countless bullets that his gear had shielded him from the worst of. A simple mission of clearing out the abandoned offices should have been simple for him, cluster charges given full reign to cause as much damage as possible without endangering innocent lives. The same couldn’t be said for the building, but better destruction of things that could be rebuilt in the end over lives that could never be put back together.

Fuze had made a mistake. He didn’t particularly enjoy admitting it, but the bullets flying past him and keeping him in place were clear indications of that. If he tried to get up and run, or even fire back, he’d be an easy target. He had to find a way out of this, and quickly, before he got overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of his enemy.

He took the break in gunfire as his moment to fire back, AK-12 familiar in his hands and taking down several targets before he had to duck behind the cover he had put together. The situation was getting a bit more manageable, he just had to be patient. He made sure his knife was at the ready when he swore he heard footsteps getting closer, sound masked by the gunfire.

Another break in the suppressing fire allowed him to stand and take down more targets, down to at least a more reasonable number of terrorists to kill before he was out of the worst of this situation. The sudden creak of wood underfoot caught his attention; he hadn’t moved. He spun around to meet the aggressor, knife drawn and aiming for the jugular vein. He felt the stab in his arm, making sure to drive the knife deeper until the flow of blood coated the floor and every nearby surface. The body fell limply to the ground, giving Fuze the opportunity to see what he had been stabbed with. The syringe was quickly rolling away in the pool of blood. Has to be tranquilizer.

No, no no no no-

He couldn't pass out now. The gunfire entirely ceased but he knew they were waiting like vultures, just beyond his reach. He had to fight back the surge of panic. Stay focused. He shook his head harshly, trying to shake the blurriness from his vision. Whatever it was, it was acting quickly and he didn't have time-

Fuze barely registered that he stumbled to the ground. He kept his hold on his gun, determined to at least fight back if they got overconfident. There was at least three different sets of footsteps inching closer, undoubtedly aware of what their lone member had died to achieve. It was a disgusting sacrifice that the White Masks made all too often.

When he saw the leg of a terrorist walk around the corner, he didn't hesitate in lifting his gun and firing. If he could simply kill the rest of them, passing out wouldn't be that much of a concern. He could at least be sure in knowing that his team would grow concerned and find him, there was no telling what would happen if there was a terrorist alive when he passed out. The sudden shout cut short from the terrorist was enough of an alert for the others still alive. He felt the strike on his shoulder from behind, turning around to try and pierce his own knife into the terrorist's neck.

Another strike across his side made him stumble backwards, looking down to realize he was bleeding and that the strikes were stabs from the terrorist’s own knife. His vision was getting more and more spotty, combining pain with panic as he finally slipped from consciousness.

The harsh scent of burnt metal awoke him. His arms were tied behind his back, shoulder wound no longer bleeding but still in pain as his arm bent further than he would've liked. Fuze instantly knew his protective gear had been taken from him, leaving only his basic clothes and his helmet. He preferred it that way, not wanting his captors to clearly see his eyes. He was forced onto his knees, skin and fabric torn away as he was undoubtedly dragged with little regard. There was no outside light in the small, damp cell, but he couldn't really be surprised.

There was blood spattered across his visor, not able to remember when that even happened. He was familiar with pain by now, biting his lip to stifle any sound of pain. The person in the room with him had clearly been waiting patiently, and didn't want to give that any satisfaction.

“Rise and shine, asshat.”

The voice was alarmingly feminine, but distinctly annoyed.

“Easy, V. We just got started.”

Another voice, this time deeper and more masculine. He was clearly the patient one of the two he heard.

“Yea, and I don't plan on wasting time with this. We got pulled away from our-need I remind you, Jay- very important project for this waste of space. We should just kill him and save ourselves the trouble.”

“Ever so impatient, V. This won't be a waste of time. Consider it a well needed break from that project. We don't get much done besides destruction when you get frustrated.”

Fuze was starting to get annoyed. These people were more than willing to bicker in front of him, uncaring if he heard. Even going so far as to use their names, they had to be confident that by the end of this, what he knew wouldn't at all matter. They would likely kill him regardless.

“You know what? Fine, this is a break from work. But if you-" she paused, grabbing the collar of Fuze’s shirt, “-don't cooperate, you're gonna have bigger fucking problems.”

She let go and stepped back, Fuze keeping his head down but moving his eyes to watch them. Their masks were different, half white and half red with the sides alternating with each other. The left side of V’s mask was the same color as the right side of Jay’s, ake vice versa. Jay sighed, crossing his arms and turning to look at Fuze.

“Don’t worry too much. This can go very simply if you work with us.”

Hell would sooner freeze.

He refused to speak, staying silent until he felt a hand under his chin to lift his head.

“I don’t recommend defiance.”

He kept quiet, narrowing his eyes at the man. V was leaning against the wall, arms crossed and clearly annoyed.

“Quit being nice and fucking electrocute him already, you damn electromaniac.”

“Patience, V.”

“For what? Rainbow shouldn't get mercy, they should be put down like the mutts they are.”

Fuze felt heat rise to his face. He hated not being able to fight back, to make her eat her own words and die with the knowledge that she was horribly outclassed.

“Since my dear twin here is getting irritated, I'll speed this process up. Tell me where the base you operate from is.”

“Go to hell.”

“Look at that! He does have vocal chords.”

“V, I'd hate to have to ask you to wait outside.”

“Like you really would. You enjoy having an audience way too much.”

Jay laughed quietly, Fuze able to feel his gaze shift back to him.

“So, no cooperation then?”

“Are you deaf? Go. To. Hell.”

It was V’s turn to laugh, pushing herself off of the wall.

“I'll go get your favorite toys, because I'm such a considerate, dear sister.”

She left the room quickly, leaving Fuze alone with Jay.

“Truly, she’s quite lovely when she isn’t upset. Best family I could ask for.”

Fuze hated them. He wanted nothing more than to tear the ropes apart and close his hands around Jay’s throat. He wanted to kill them both, make sure they never opened their mouths again. The door opened again, Fuze slowly looking over to see her bring in what he guessed was an electric cattle prod.

“And you brought my most favorite. Such a sweetheart, V.”

“Only the best.”

She pat his shoulder, taking position again against the wall to watch.

“A customized cattle prod, capable of extremely high voltages that are excruciatingly painful for human limitations.”

The device was turned on, crackling electricity audible before he felt it jab at his injured side. He couldn’t bite back the screams of agony or stop himself from convulsing with the shocks. He wasn’t sure how long it lasted, taking strained breaths when it finally stopped.

“Tell us where your base is, and this will stop.”

He was breathing hard, pain becoming almost unbearable. Almost.

“Go fuck yourself.”

The prod was pressed into his side again, making him scream and jerk away. V watched intently, waiting for Jay to stop before speaking.

“Fucking bastard! Can’t we just shoot him?”

“No, not yet. Don’t worry, it will take some time for anyone to get to us, even with the very best after us. We have time.”

Fuze bit his lip and braced for another shock, closing his eyes tightly.

Twitch was tired and worried out of her mind, but there was no way she could stop now. Fuze had been MIA for a day now, and it was far too unlike him to simply disappear without a trace. She and Valkyrie had made slow progress, only getting an area of where he was and no real idea of what to expect. Valkyrie had recognized the area as an abandoned theme park, eroded away and repurposed now as a fairly large terrorist base. They had to narrow down where he was, and make sure the team that went in avoided certain death that would await if they simply rushed in.

That didn’t factor in the guilt she felt for keeping it secret from the others. It was a delicate situation, and while she cared intensely, there was no way she was going to put others at risk too. She dreaded the reactions of some of the others if they found out, especially Maverick and the other Spetsnaz. They would be beyond pissed off, she knew.

“Do we have a better idea of how many there are yet?”

Twitch looked over to Valkyrie, who seemed just as tired as she was.

“No, they know where the cameras are and shot out inside cams. I have no way of knowing how many are in there, or even if they’ve rigged the whole place to blow up the moment we step inside.”

Twitch sighed, rubbing her hands through her hair.

“They have to know we're onto them, then, and are buying themselves more time. Still, we can't risk more lives if it's all a trap.”

Valkyrie sat back in the chair.

“We’re starting to not have much of a choice. We've been at this since last night, and it’s nearly been a full day since I've even seen my bed.”

“I know, I just hate the idea of walking blindly into a trap.”

Twitch let out a sigh.

“I'll see if Ying or Lesion know anything about it, maybe their home CTU is aware of it and has something they haven't shared.”

Valkyrie nodded, leaning back in the chair.

“Sounds good to me. I'll see if I can get something new while we wait.”

Twitch nodded once and turned to the door, heart leaping to her throat when she heard footsteps. She swung the door open quickly, seeing Maverick turn around a corner.

“Merde, Erik! Wait!”

Valkyrie turned her attention around when Twitch sprinted down the hall, not able to speak before she was long gone.

“Erik, just listen to me-"

“A full fucking day, and neither of you told anybody. You're happy to sit on your fucking asses for a full fucking day?!”

He paused to glare at her, unbridled fury in his eyes.

“Erik, just listen, we can't rush in without any knowledge- hey!”

She grabbed his arm as he turned to walk off, yelping when his fist connected with her nose.

“Don't put your hands on me! Do you have any fucking idea what they could be doing to him while we're sitting here doing nothing?! I'm going to get our fucking teammate back.”

He left her standing in the hallway, delicately holding her bleeding nose. She knew better than to try pursuing him again, instead pulling out her phone.

“Evening Manu, is-"

“Gilles, I need you to stop Erik from doing something ridiculously dangerous. I'm worried he's going to go on a suicide mission by himself.”

“I'm on my way over now, I'll make sure he doesn't.”

“Merci.”

She hung up quickly after that, heading to the infirmary. She could take care of herself with what Doc kept well maintained in the cabinets. She turned down the hall and bumped straight into Lion, walking far too fast to realize he was there in time. Lion was one of the last people she wanted to see right now, knowing how confrontational he could be.

His hands immediately went to lift her face after he spotted blood on his own clothes and get a better look at Twitch.

“Manu, who hit you?”

“Olivier, it's alright, you don't-"

“I don't need to but I will. Who was it?”

Twitch shook her head.

“Please, Olivier, not now.”

He could see tears threatening her eyes, nodding and gently grabbing her hand to head to the infirmary. Doc couldn't yell at him for going through supplies if it was for Twitch's sake.

“Will you tell me what's wrong?”

He handed the tissues over to Twitch, letting her hold them up to her nose to wipe blood away.

“Fuze got captured. Valkyrie and I have been trying to find him and the best way to get him out without sending anyone into their death, and…”

She shook her head, taking a deep breath.

“I'm so exhausted and being told that I've been sitting and doing nothing just… hurts.”

Lion nodded quietly, then grabbed an ice pack from the small cooler.

“That's not your fault Manu. You've been trying your hardest, like you always do. We'll get him back safe and sound, don't worry. I'll make sure of it.”

She nodded meekly, wiping her eyes and staying quiet. He gently pulled her close in a hug, rubbing her back.

“It'll be okay. I promise, it will. Take care of yourself, I’ll handle it.”

He gently kissed her forehead, reluctant to leave her alone but far more determined to ease the source of her stress. He didn’t necessarily like Fuze personally, but he was still a teammate and Rainbow always stuck together. He took one last glance at her before walking out, heading to the room where he knew Twitch tended to be when working on intel gathering.

“Emma, you get anything from Ying or Le-Oh. You’re not Emma.”

Valkyrie blinked, staring tiredly at Lion. He shook his head.

“No, I’m not. What do you have so far?”

“Please don’t tell me you’re thinking of just heading out alone to do this.”

“Not alone, no. But we cannot wait longer. We’ll have to take the risk.”

Valkyrie nodded, getting out of the chair.

“Plenty of hostiles inside, I don’t know how many exactly, but there’s a lot we don’t know. I’d take IQ, Montagne, Zofia, and have Doc on standby. I’d also bring Blackbeard, he won’t quit with someone on the line like that.”

Lion quietly listened, already planning out who he would want to bring along.

“Merci, we’ll head out with that team, then.”

“Good luck out there, I’ll be here if you need me.”

He walked out without another moment of hesitation. Valkyrie would take the news to Six and the other operators, that they were going now and couldn’t wait. When he got to the landing zone for base helicopters, he was surprised to see Montagne already there, holding Maverick in a bear hug.

“Put me down, god damn it!”

“Erik, please calm down!”

“Not while one of our own is getting tortured! I’m not letting that happen for any longer, put me FUCKING DOWN!”

It was almost like watching a rebellious child being physically carried away from a toy they wanted, kicking and screaming. Part of Lion understood it entirely, sheer rage clouding clarity and bringing personal feelings to the forefront of decision making. The other part of him knew how dangerous that was in itself.

“Maverick, please, just list-”

Montagne was cut off when the back of Maverick’s head collided with his forehead, yet his grip stayed firm. Maverick was only slightly shorter than Montagne, making the effort of holding him still a struggle.

“Olivier, could you-” Maverick’s struggling interrupted him, starting to seem more like a frenzied animal, “-could you get Seamus? And possibly Alexan-Mon Dieu, Erik!”

Lion didn’t need to stick around to do as his friend asked, knowing that Maverick wouldn’t rest. Sledge and Tachanka were easy to find, and didn’t need much convincing to run to the landing pad and take the still trashing Maverick off Montagne’s hands. It was a struggle for the two of them to hold him back, pulling him away as Zofia, IQ, Blackbeard, and Doc made their way over. Zofia unsurprisingly took charge, moving towards the helicopter.

“Let’s go. No more delaying.”

The others didn’t hesitate at the command. Zofia was a very adaptable operator, capable of changing plans in an instant and handling near anything that came her way. Doc sat across from Lion, arms crossed.

“I imagine you might know why the supplies in the infirmary have been thrown around? And more importantly, why Emmanuelle had a bleeding nose when I walked in?”

Montagne’s attention snapped from Doc to Lion.

“Is she okay?”

“She refused to tell me exactly what was wrong. She’s stressed over this situation.”

Doc nodded, attention being grabbed when Montagne spoke up.

“She called me asking me to prevent Erik from doing something reckless. You don’t imagine…?”

Lion muttered curses under his breath, already planning on the conversation he’d have with Maverick later. For now, his attention needed to be on the mission. It would be a relatively long flight, and they had to be ready to move quickly when they finally got there. The waiting was the worst part.

Zofia had already decided on a plan, and there was hardly any swaying her from it. IQ would check constantly for explosives and stay close to Blackbeard, while she, Montagne, Lion, and Doc would stick together and press forward. IQ and Blackbeard could take spot and take care of other threats trying to surprise them.

IQ’s scanner was up even before they touched the ground, detecting the maze of mines hidden under the ground. She carefully stepped off the helicopter, scanning around as Montagne moved to cover her if anyone from the theme park was aiming at them.

“There are a lot of them. Step carefully.”

They moved behind Montagne with IQ’s guidance, Blackbeard keeping his attention on the building to make sure no hostiles inside took shots at them with no returning fire. The entrance of the building was boarded up, normal doors torn down.

“When we’re inside, we go back to our plan.”

Zofia quickly looked to the others, then to the door as she shouldered the KS79 Lifeline and blasted the barricade apart with an impact grenade. Montagne’s shield took the brunt of the gunfire, allowing Blackbeard to easily take them down with the rifle shield protecting his face and Le Roc protecting his body.

“We’re moving quickly, but not recklessly. We’ll check downstairs first, since Valkyrie wasn’t able to get anything from his gear, it has to be below ground somewhere.”

Lion was content to nod and follow orders, trusting Zofia’s judgement and calls. The woman hardly ever went wrong, and fought tooth and nail to make things right if they did. Blackbeard and IQ stayed close by, checking around the area and covering their flanks. Their movement was agonizingly slow, nitro and explosives nearly everywhere and forcing them to take their time. Lion despised it, also able to tell how irritated Doc was getting as his concern for their captured teammate instilled a special urgency that wouldn’t stop until they were back at base.

The stairs down were coated in dried blood. It was a morbid sign they were on the right track, but Lion would take it regardless.

“Bottom of the stairs, tripwire explosives on either side.”

IQ and Blackbeard were above them, taking the opportunity to clear out the ground floor of hostile targets and still scan for threats from a floor above. Doc shot the explosives, following down the steps. Even in the flickering lights, Lion could see the blood trail across the tiles. The surroundings were messy, things strewn about as if they had been searched for.

“They wanted to make us waste time, so they could leave.”

Zofia simply nodded at Doc’s realization, eyes following the trail to a barricaded doorway. The impact grenade from her launcher revealed the other room, beeping with idle nitro cells. The trail led to the end of the room, behind a sturdier door.

“Those cells are close enough to get caught in the same blast and be destroyed with only a few explosions. I can set them off safely.”

Montagne rarely differed, putting himself in harm's way so others didn't have to. Lion took his pistol out of the holster and started taking out the further cells.

“For ones closer, I agree. But we can take out plenty of them now.”

All of the visible explosives were now gone, leaving Montagne to walk towards the incessant beeping and let the nitro cells detonate harmlessly against the shield.

“That hall is all clear.”

IQ’s voice called out over the radio, Doc taking the opportunity to move up to the door.

“We need to get this door open.”

Zofia set up the breaching charge on the door, planning to at least blast the hinges and get inside one way or another. They backed up to let the charge explode, hinges coming loose and letting the door fall backwards.

Fuze had heard the explosions, even with the overwhelming fogginess clouding around his mind. The White Masks had left the room awhile ago, for some reason he didn't know. He was in pain and far too weak to keep himself upright, arms still tied behind his back as he lay on his right side. The floor was damp-he couldn't tell if it was water or blood or both-and overall miserable.

He couldn't even keep his eyes open, the pain in his stomach from hunger and in his throat from thirst familiar now. He wasn't sure if he preferred that over the pain of electric shocks. The loud bang of the door hitting the ground was out of place; White Masks held the key. Didn't they? He couldn't make a sound as he felt the gentle touch against his neck, checking for his pulse, but he couldn't help the attempt to shy away from it. A futile attempt, but he still tried.

He heard a voice but he couldn't tell what they were saying or even clearly tell who it was. It's familiar. Familiarity didn’t matter; he wanted their hands off of him. He couldn’t struggle with his arms behind his back as the person’s hands moved from their neck to the open wound on his side. The pressure hurt, forcing a soft, strained cry from him. He could feel his own weakness, could understand why it was so difficult to get his body to respond to anything he tried to do, and he hated it. Being entirely at someone else’s mercy only drilled the fact harder into his mind.

He was at least relieved when he felt the ties around his wrists get cut loose. The relief was soon overtaken by the fierce feeling of distress when he was lifted over someone’s shoulders. Their grip on him was much stronger than any of his weak attempts to get free, spotty vision making it hard to see who it even was. It had to be Rainbow, the sound of metal moving was a sound he was used to hearing from Montagne’s shield.

Blackbeard didn’t have to be an expert to know Fuze was in bad shape. Doc was rightfully worried, and stressed the importance of getting back to base as soon as possible. He was more than capable of carrying Fuze, and was more than happy to help get him back home. It was a fast trip back to the helicopter, he and IQ had confirmed the rest of the building was devoid of any opfor. Doc didn’t wait to start cleaning the bloodied injuries, despite Fuze’s struggles and quiet protests. It was almost a relief when Blackbeard watched him finally pass out; at least he wouldn’t be conscious for the pain of tending to every wound. Blackbeard knew Doc well enough to know the man wouldn’t rest himself until he was sure Fuze would be alright.

Fuze slowly opened his eyes, struggling to adjust to the bright lights shining above him. It didn’t take him long to realize he was in the infirmary, beeps marking his heat rate. He tried sitting up, only gaining Doc’s attention and being gently stopped.

“Don’t stress yourself. You came very close to dying.”

Fuze let himself relax, body aching with the dull awareness of the pain he had felt. He watched Doc look over the various instruments around the bed, preferring to stay quiet. What was there to even say? His stomach growled, prompting Doc to hand him a plate of food.

“Slowly, so you don’t throw up what you just ate.”

“I know.”

He didn’t like being babied, even if Doc only meant well. He knew how to take care of himself, had dealt with his fair share of pain and agony in his life and this was hardly going to be the last time. Doc took a deep breath, putting a pill bottle on the bedside stand.

“If your pain gets worse, take two of those no more than every four hours.”

Fuze nodded again, watching Doc leave. His phone was on the stand beside the bottle, and he couldn’t help the curiosity of checking it. He had a mountain of messages, every one of them concerned questions about how he was doing.

At least I have time.

#Rainbow Six Siege #r6s Fuze #r6s Lion #r6s Doc #r6s Montagne #r6s Twitch #r6s Valkyrie #r6s Maverick #others too but im lazy #blood #torture #my writing

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writemoment · 6 years

Text

Recovery Companion Pt.3

Writer: Ellie-Mae (Pen Name)

**Part: 3/5 Previous Parts: 1 - 2

Summary: Being the only girl stuck in a maze with boys, things get complicated. When y/n gets attacked, resulting in several injuries, she is assigned a companion during recovery. Will her quickly developing feelings for the tall, British boy be platonic or something more? And what will happen if or when he finds out?

Pairing: TMR Newt x Female!Reader

Warnings/Rated: Mentions of suicide attempt, attack(s) on character(s), nightmares and fluff!!

Word Count: 4,571

A/N: Hey! Quick note here! So this story will have a bunch of time jumps from here on out so please watch for that. ALSO! I would like to start a new imagine series for you guys - Should I do another TMR or a different fandom? Message me and let me know your ideas!! I really enjoy writing for you guys and would like to continue doing so. Anyway, now you can enjoy the story.**

( Readers ) P.O.V.

To say that Newt and I have been spending a lot of time together feels like an understatement. We sit together during meals (whenever he isn't busy), no matter where I'm working, he collects me to help him do his rounds of The Glade and every night we are together either in his room or mine.

It makes me really happy to be with him and sometimes he's busy so I don't see him much at that time. It doesn't feel overwhelming because we do get breaks from each other. The only things that are bothering me are; Newt acts affectionate one moment then backs off the next.

And...Gladers are starting to notice how much time we spend together, questions and jokes are going around but they don't ever reach Newt because he's second in command - that leaves me to take all the teasing.

Several weeks have gone by and Newt has been acting strange when we're seen together. I don't know if I should be relieved or hurt, I'm scared of these feelings that I have for him and I don't want to hurt anyone or be hurt.

I woke up this morning to a 'see you later' and a smile from Newt as he was walking out the door. He's been sleeping a lot better recently but when the nightmares hit, they're worse than the last.

One night after I woke him, I decided to ask him what was wrong, what causes the nightmares. He didn't look at me and gave me a vague answer "loss". Not wanting to upset him, I didn't push it or ask again.

I've gathered that it's probably something to do with The Maze, sometimes he cries out in his sleep. Stuff like "run!" "I'm sorry" and "leave me".

After he left this morning, I haven't seen him. It was already dinner and there has been no sign of him. I'm not worried, he's most likely with Minho and/or Alby. I don't worry about him as much anymore because I know that we will see each other every night.

Chuck and Zart sit with me tonight, we're discussing whether or not pranks would be appropriate occasionally around here. I mean, it'd be kind of fun and I'm sure everyone would be a good sport. We are all laughing about our stupid ideas when a boy named Jay comes up and takes a seat beside me.

I don't know him that well, he's just another one of the dozen boys around here that I don't hang out with. I basically stay with my main group of friends and keep friendly with everyone else.

Something about Jay feels off though, I begin to shift uncomfortably when he doesn't say anything to us.

I greet him, offering a small smile with Chuck and Zart following my lead. Jay doesn't acknowledge the boys and continues to stare at me, smiling. "Hey, y/n. I just came over to see how you've been doing." He continues to smile and I assure him that I've been fine.

"That's great. I've noticed you spend a lot of time around the second of command..." God, not this again.

"Yeah, he's a good friend. Like Chuck and Zart here, I like to stay close to my friends." I finish, gesturing at my company. The boys sit quietly, not sure what to do. Silence fills the air and after a few moments, my friends decide to turn in for the night.

After they leave, I finish my food and push it to the middle of the table.

Jay still sits beside me, staring. I uncomfortably smile and try to find a polite way to excuse myself. Sadly, I didn't get to that point. "So, it seems like you are the closest to Newt since he's around your age." I nod, I suppose that's true.

"You and I are close in age." He slides closer and I lean away from him."Maybe you could become closer with me..."

He places his hand on my knee and I immediately stand up and excuse myself. He grabs me by my arm tightly and I push him off, only for him to advance on me. I pull my arm back and aim for his face but he catches my hand.

Seriously? Why am I always caught in these situations!? He smiles smugly at me but that soon disappears. Another hand suddenly pulls us apart and Newt is standing at my side.

Newt still has Jay's wrist in his hand and pulls him in close, "Don't ever touch her like that again or I will feed you to the Grievers." it's barely a whisper but Jay got the message. Newt shoves him back and the boy stumbles over himself before hastily leaving.

Embarrassed. That's all I feel right now. I don't need to be saved all the time yet I'm so glad he was here. I hold my wrist in my hand and cradle it to my chest. I whisper a thank you, feeling my cheeks flush.

Slowly and gently, he reaches out and takes my wrist in his hands. It's red and turning a light purple in small patches. Newt's face remains expressionless as he examines my wrist.

I pull it away from him, he sighs but doesn't say anything. Not knowing what to do, I told him I was tired and made my way to my room. Our room? I don't even know anymore, all I know is that I need a bed.

Not bothering to change my clothes, I get into bed and cover my entire body. Newt didn't follow me and after a while, I assume he went to his own room. God, I'm such an idiot. Why do I have to be the only girl here?

I thought I could hold my own but I guess that's only true when others are around. Then when I'm alone....I feel out of control, useless.

Out of nowhere, I hear my door open and slam shut. I throw the covers away from my face and see Newt looming over me. Before I can ask or say anything, he's talking and rather loudly.

"I can't take it anymore! I hate it, so much." he half shouts, looking at my confused face.

"You drive me so bloody insane, I can barely stand to be around you! And the worst part is, you don't even realize it."

My heart hurts and I can't think straight. Newt doesn't like me? Were we ever friends or was it just something he felt obligated to do? He keeps talking, not allowing room for me to speak.

"Most of the guys think of you like a sister, a part of our family but others...bloody hell, It makes me want to beat the klunk out of them!" Newt bangs his fist on top of my dresser, irritated. I'm not sure what to think, I'm hurt and confused.

His eyes meet mine, glossed over and I see pain in them. "All I want to do is keep you safe. I want to protect you and make you smile. I want you to never worry over anything and most of all..." He looks away from me, walking to the end of the bed.

"I want you to love me as much as I love you..."

What? My heart flutters and hurts at the same time. Does he really feel the same way I do? With all of my being, I hope he does. Gently, I stand up and walk over to Newt. My hand reaches his shoulder and he turns around to look at me.

Newt. My best friend, the one I love. He's here in front of me and even if this is just a dream, I want him to know that I love him. He looks at me as I scan his face, my other hand going to the back of his head.

"I love you, Newt." I whisper, leaning my face up to his. Although he doesn't move, my lips meet his and soon he's kissing me back. Both of his hands rest on my hips, pulling me closer.

Whatever hurt I felt before, it all disappears and gets replaced with the affection we both have for each other. I pull away, breathing heavily while smiling and Newt places a kiss on my exposed collar bone before hugging me. We hug tightly for several minutes and I never want to leave this moment. Pecking his lips a few more times, we both head to bed and sit there, talking about everything we kept inside. Newt. The tall, blonde, British boy that I've been drawn to since day one. He's mine now and I, his. My Newt.

Now that Newt and I know we feel the same, so does the entire Glade. He didn't bother hiding it but didn't flaunt it either. I respected that, keeping our business to us. Still, if anyone messed with me, he made it known that I was his. Thankfully, no one has except for a smart comment here and there.

"'Bout time you guys got together! I was starting to debate stealing her from you." Minho says, laughing.

Newt punches him hard in the shoulder, causing Minho to wince while a smirk creeps onto Newt's face.

A few days passed and we have been so happy. I was working with Chuck today and he wouldn't shut up, which I didn't mind. He was a bit nosy about my relationship but I answered most of the questions as long as they weren't too personal.

On our way to the builders to deliver water, Newt passed me and stuck a piece of paper in my hand. He smiled and winked at me, leaving without a word. Even though I was eager to look at the paper, I didn't want Chuck to know about or read it. I finally got a chance to open the folded note and it read

‘Meet me at the tower after work. - Newt'

It took everything in me not to smile for the remainder of work but occasionally, I'd feel one spread across my face. So after work, I took a shower and changed into new clothes before heading to the tower.

When I finally reached the top, Newt was sitting with his back against the rails and looking out at the field that makes up most of our home.

He must have heard me because he looks over, smiling and motioning for me to join him. Everything in front of me made me happy.

A tan blanket was spread out and our dinner was placed on top. He had a lit torch setting inside it's holder, casting a warm light over everything. But most of all, Newt was there.

I sat beside him and he gave me a kiss, not a long one but gentle. My heart swells and I can't help but smile into his lips.

"I thought I'd try to take you on dates even though it's almost bloody impossible to be somewhere alone." He chuckles lightly and I reassure him how wonderful it is.

Newt always made me feel safe and always took my feelings into consideration. After our lovely date, we ended our night like always. Peacefully asleep in each others arms.

**6 months later **

"You really are a piece of work, Thomas." I laugh at him as he tries to come up with ways to get out of the maze.

"Listen, we've tried all of those things. Unless you have a map of the maze memorized in that head of yours, I'd leave the maze to the runners." I say this in a serious voice.

A few months ago, Newt woke from a nightmare screaming out my name and frantically searching for me. I calmed him down and finally got the truth out of him...

About four months before I arrived in the box, Newt had been a runner. I was confused on how that could be, with his leg and all. Newt was in a dark place, no hope left to be found in his mind.

One day, on a run, he climbed the vines of the maze walls and jumped off. He tried to take his own life but instead he landed on his foot - he fractured his ankle.

I started to cry when he told me, not being able to imagine a world without him. He told me he felt like a failure, like he couldn't do anything right, including his attempt. Minho found him and dragged him back to the glade. His nightmares are about that day. And he has a constant reminder of his failure, his limp.

However, the nightmares started changing when I came up. His voice seemed broken as he told me. "I started dreaming about you coming into the maze to find me..." Newt had never cried in front of me until that night.

"and a Griever gets a hold of you and I can't reach you. I can't run or protect you because I wasn't strong enough to fight for you. I never want that to become a reality, ever. And you're the only thing that keeps me from drowning in those nightmares." Newt finished and I straddled his lap and embraced him. Quietly I told him that I was happy he failed and that sometimes being a failure is good when succeeding wasn't. We both cried silently and he told me the last secret he had.

"Y/n....there is no way out of the maze."

My mind snaps back to the present, I had forgotten I was talking to the Greenie.

Thomas came up a few days ago. Newt was originally in charge of showing him around but he got called into a meeting with Alby so I got left with the job.

I hadn't gotten close with any newcomers since Aaron came up but Thomas is nice. He's helping me out in the gardens, he seems to be about Newt's age but he's not as tall as Newt.

With his messy dark hair and tan skin, he's cute. I feel a connection with him but not like I do with Newt. It's different..

We keep on working even though we're basically finished, we try to stretch the work out until the end of the day. Thomas picks up a chunk of dirt and throws it at me, hitting me square in the forehead. That slinthead....

He barks out laughter, throwing his head back with tears in his eyes. I throw myself at him, tackling his form to the ground and smother loose dirt onto his face. Quickly laughing, I jump off and run.

Newt has been teaching me how to get stronger since we started dating, I had told him how useless I felt. Even Minho has been training me like a runner. Although I can run faster now, Thomas caught up to me near Homestead. I screamed, laughing as he spins me around by my waist.

"Put me down you slinthead!!" When he sets me down, I'm dizzy from the spinning. I nearly fall over but bump into someones chest before I can steady myself.

Oh, klunk. "What are you doing, love?" Newt says as he pushes me to stand, steadying my figure. Thomas and I weren't doing anything wrong, yet I feel guilty. Glancing over at Thomas, he looks as uncomfortable as I feel.

"Hey, hun. We're just goofing off since we finished with work. Clearly, things escalated quickly." I say, gesturing at the dirt stuck to our sweaty faces.

All I get is a hum in reply and Newt grabs my hand, leading me away. When I look back, Thomas is gone. I refocus on wherever my boyfriend is leading me, which apparently is in the Deadheads.

We get to a corner of the maze wall that's surrounded by trees and I get pulled down beside him. I look over at him, patiently waiting for him to speak.

Honestly, I can't tell if he's mad. Even with having been in a relationship with him for over six months and knowing him for almost a year, I can never gauge how pissed he is.

"Newt, are you okay? Please, tell me what's wrong." He doesn't say anything so I reach to turn his face to look at me but he pulls away. What the shuck? Feeling slightly hurt, I pull my hand back. Our hands are still intertwined but he sits away from my body.

I jump when he suddenly turns and begins talking, "Am I failing again?" He looks at me, still emotionless. I'm confused.

"I can't even find a way out of this bloody maze, I can't help look because of my shucking leg and I feel like I'm not making you as happy anymore."

No..no, he can't think that. "Please. Newt, please don't say that. You aren't failing, you never failed at anything good! We've had so many work on that maze and still no one knows. It's not your fault..."

I lay my hand on his knee, wanting so badly to comfort him. "And don't you ever say you don't make me happy. Because that's a bloody lie, you make me smile everyday and love me when I can't even love myself. You're mine and my feelings for you aren't going to go away."

Our eyes meet and he pulls me into a hug. I repeat myself, making sure he understands and doesn't forget how much I love him.

He pulls back and kisses me. Both of us smile and he says, "Good that."

After dinner, we sit around and catch up with our friends. Chuck and Newt are sitting at my sides, Thomas is sitting beside Newt and Minho. My heart flutters, making my cheeks flush when I feel Newt's hand resting on my thigh.

He doesn't mean anything by it, it's something he does unconsciously. It's just a reminder that I'm here with him but even after all this time, the love that fills my heart doesn't cease when he's around.

The hand on my leg squeezes gently which is his signal that he's ready to leave. We say our good-nights to the boys and head upstairs.

"Goodnight, lovebirds!" Minho calls after us.

I stick my tongue at him but he just holds his arms open to me. I quickly jump into his bear hug before continuing to bed. Newt and I just stay in his room now. The other room is vacant, waiting for some glader to occupy it eventually. I'm changing clothes and standing in my undergarments when Newt comes up behind me, hugging me. He's so warm, I turn and just lean into his warmth. When we pull away, he runs his hand over my chest, over my scar. Quickly, I pull on one of his tank tops and a pair of shorts.

With a little jump, I flop onto the bed and wait for my boyfriend to join me. My eyes close and I hum in contentment. I feel the bed dip but slightly jump when I feel my stomach become exposed.

When I looked, Newt was shirtless and hovering over me. (He still is dressed from the waist down, you pervs.) Lightly his fingertips trace the deep scar on my thigh before he moves on. His eyes become glued on the big pink scar across my stomach. Gently, he places soft kisses across it.

I love this man so much, I didn't think I could ever feel like this. He looks up at me and begins to apologize but I just shush him by throwing a shirt at his face. He feigns irritation as he pulls the shirt over his head. I tug him beside me, kissing him to convey these feelings.

He still blames himself for not stopping Gally, but Newt's the reason why I don't have nightmares about it. We smile at each other and he wraps his muscular arms around me, enveloping me in warmth from his skin.

Huh? Where am I?

I look around and I'm in some kind of room filled with screens. There are many people in here, all typing something into computers. I move closer to the screen to inspect and gasp. Newt.

There in front of me, the whole Glade is broadcast and I see Newt running through the maze. That's when everything slows down. Newt, he's climbing the maze wall. No, no this can't happen.

Frozen to the spot, I watch as the love of my life jumps, breaking his ankle.

Frantically, I start screaming, needing to find a way to help him. The people around me call out and suddenly two men dressed in black clothes drag me out of the room.

Through the halls, I scream and thrash. Newt. He can't be dead. He can't. The guards throw me into a room and close the doors.

Immediately, I'm up banging on the door. This can't be happening. Losing strength, I fall onto my knees and cry.

Suddenly, the door opens and someone pulls me up. Thomas? I don't understand...

"Y/n, we need to get you into the maze. Newt is alive but I don't think he will last without you going in. I don't know how, but we have to put you in there." Thomas talks fast but calmly.

"How? There's almost no way that they'd put any of us in there. It's too risky. But whatever you have in that head of yours, if it'll get me to Newt...I'm in." After I finish talking, he tells me to follow him.

“We need to get you in there soon but because of your outburst, they wouldn't consider putting you in right now. They'd just kill you."

I mutter a sorry, not sure what to say. Thomas just smiles at me, giving me a side hug. "It's okay, I understand. If that were you in there, I'd probably do the same thing. Anyway, we need to get their trust again before we try anything."

I agree with that, being killed won't help Newt. We come to a closed door and Thomas grabs my hand. "We can't do this alone though. We need to talk to Teresa."

Gasping, I sit up in bed slightly in panic. Newt jumps, clearly not used to me being the one with the nightmares. "Y/n, are you alright? What's wrong?!" Newt kneels in front of me, rubbing circles into my shoulders.

"Yeah, just a nightmare. It's okay, it was nothing." I tell him but my voice carries no emotion. What was that? And why was Thomas there and who the hell is Teresa?

Newt must accept my answer in his half asleep mind and climbs back into bed with me. He pulls me back to him but I don't sleep for the rest of the night. Who am I? The terrifying thought enters my mind and I can't shake it. What if that wasn't a dream? What if that were a memory...

All I know is that I can't tell Newt, not until I know for sure what's going on. Also, I have to talk to Thomas and see if he knows who Teresa is.

The next morning, I work with Thomas in the gardens again. I want to talk to him but Newt is here along with a few others. Thomas must have noticed because he calls me out on it.

"Hey y/n, you're being awfully quiet. That's a first that I've seen." He says as he throws another chunk of dirt at me and sticks his tongue out. I apologize and force a laugh.

Goosebumps rise on my skin as I feel Newt look at me. He must notice that something is off but doesn't choose to say anything in front of others.

'If that were you in there, I'd probably do the same thing.'

Who is Thomas to me? And I to him?

With all my being, I hope that it was just a nightmare but the sinking feeling in my stomach makes me think otherwise. No matter how hard I try to think back to any kind of memories, I get super sick. When I think of my nightmare last night, I feel uneasy.

Something is happening and I'm not sure that it's going to be good. My eyes wander over to Newt, feeling my heart sink. In my dream...I called him the love of my life. I wonder...

"Hey, Tommy. Would you go get some more dirt instead of throwing it, yeah?" Newt throws a bucket to Thomas. After he leaves, Newt crouches beside me as I pick weeds from around the veggies.

"Y/n?" he reaches over and holds my face towards him. "You seem off today. What's on your mind, darling?" There's so much concern and love in those eyes, I feel guilty for keeping this from him.

"Nothing, really. Just thinking about the maze..." I trail off, hoping he assumes I'm talking about escaping.

"I'll be fine. It's just one of those things tha-"

Screaming.

Newt and I jump up. There's screaming from the Deadheads. Oh, no. Thomas..

I grab a shovel and together we run towards the sound. We catch sight of Thomas running with Ben hot on his trail. Ben? He's one of our runners, he shouldn't be here around this time of day.

Ben tackles him and I feel the sinking feeling of remembering this happening to me a year ago. Newt passes me and I throw him my shovel, which he catches with ease.

With a quick swing, Newt slams the shovel into Ben's face. The swing was powerful enough to knock Ben back, giving enough time for the rest of the Gladers to catch up and secure him. I crouch by Thomas, he's not badly injured. I'm relieved that it wasn't as severe as my attack.

Alby comes up and commands the boys to lift Ben's shirt. The runner thrashes, screaming out as they tug up the clothing. There's a small puncture wound but that's not what makes me gasp.

From the small opening, dark purple and blue veins spread underneath the skin like the roots of a tree. At this point, Ben is basically foaming at the mouth.

"He's been stung, take him to the med-hut. I'll meet you guys there. Newt, follow me. Y/n, you have training from the medjacks right?" Alby asks me.

I reply that I do and he orders me to take Thomas to the spare med room to treat his wounds.

We all follow our orders and I help Thomas over to the extra med room beside the kitchen. I gather some supplies, he doesn't need much help since he only has a few scratches, a cut on his head and a headache.

"Thomas, what happened? Do you know why Ben would attack you?" I ask, not looking up because I'm bandaging him.

He slightly winces and I whisper an apology. "It's okay. I don't know, I was gathering dirt like Newt asked then I started hearing twigs snap. Ben stated yelling at me, he kept saying things like 'this is your fault' and 'you're going to suffer like the rest of us'." Thomas finishes.

I drop the roll of gauze I had in my hand, looking up at Thomas. He asks what's wrong and all I can do is shake my head. Finally finding my words, I choke out quietly,

"Thomas...we put these kids in here..."

Part Four Here

A/N: Duh, duh, duuuuunnnn!!! Hey, hope you guys enjoy this! I will still be posting the next part this Monday so be sure to follow us and watch out for that. Thank you all so so much and I’ll talk to you all soon! - Ellie-Mae

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jasper-x-bettencourt · 5 years

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[ TOM HARDY, MALE, HE/HIM ] — If you’re strolling Derry today, you might see [ JASPER BETTENCOURT ] along the way! The [ THIRTY-EIGHT ] year old can usually be found at [ HIS HOUSE ], when they aren’t busy with [ WALKING HIS DOGS or EXPLORING DERRY ]. I hear they seem to be [ LAID BACK and CALM ], but they are also rumored to be [ IMPULSIVE and SELF-CRITICAL].

BASIC

Full Name: Jasper Finley Bettencourt Nickname(s): Jazz, JB, or J. Bettencourt (his professional name) Age: 38 Occupation: Full-Time Writer / Novelist - Part-Time Bartender. He occasionally fills in for people at The Falcon Bar, even though he doesn’t really need the cash. It makes him feel like he’s doing something when he’s in between his books or research. Is an ex police officer. Birthday: January 11th, 1981

Father: Gerard Bettencourt Mother: Sandra Bettencourt Sibling(s): Two younger brothers, two younger sisters (22-37) Ex-Spouse: Melanie (30-35) Children: Son - Julian (10), Daughter - Annelise (8)

(+) Calm, Imaginative, Laid Back, Compassionate, Respectful (-) Impulsive, Impatient, Self-Critical, Stubborn, Distant

Jasper is a very chilled and laid back individual. Incredibly friendly to most people, and though he’s a bit of a hermit and quiet, he’ll talk your ears off once you get to know him. He’s insanely imaginative, and a great storyteller. He’s got a calm demeanor, and though he can be a little impatient when it comes to waiting for things - be it events, people, or his food and drink orders - he is never outright disrespectful or rude to others. He can act quite impulsively sometimes - joining the police academy right out of college being a prime example of that - and when it comes to his own writing and other skills (like his graphic designing), he can be very self-critical.

Interests

Writing

Doing Research for his novels

This includes investigating old cold case files and sites around Derry. He does do a lot of trespassing, but only when its necessary. He usually is very professional about meeting people and asking for interviews / tours.

Photography - he loves taking photos of places and anything that will help him with his novels.

Drawing (he’s really into graphics, and graphic design and even studied it in school, before deciding that being a novelist was his true calling).

Is an animal lover, and he owns two dogs - a 2 year-old female weimaraner named Lola, and a 7 month old male boxer named Moe.

Is a Vegan.

He is not big on watching crap television - prefers watching educational documentaries and the like, verses sitcoms and other tv shows and films. Loves a good war film, though. Three of his all-time favorite war films being Apocalypse Now, The Deer Hunter and Full Metal Jacket.

Occasionally frequents the local gym.

Spends about fifty to sixty percent of his time in his house, or at the local library, but does get out - to walk his dogs, explore the town, run errands, or pick up some hours at The Falcon Bar.

Biography

Was born and raised in Halifax, Nova Scotia, alongside his four siblings.

He is French Canadian (his father), but has more Irish blood than French (his mother).

He is the eldest of five, and is pretty close with all of his siblings. He considers his brothers to pretty much be his best friends.

He left Nova Scotia for New York at 18, where he attended university for graphic designing and creative writing.

At 22, he graduated and impulsively joined the city’s police academy, having the notion that his writing just wasn’t good enough to bring in too much money. After completing the course, he became a rookie officer for the NYPD. He stayed a cop for three years after that, all the while working on his first ever novel. When he finished it and sent it in, he was so surprised by the response it got and how quickly it was published. Realizing that he might actually be good enough, Jasper quite his job as a cop and started writing full time.

At the age of 26, Jasper made his way from New York City to Derry, Maine, attracted to the small town due to all of his strange and unsolved cases. As a certified novelist of the mystery / horror / supernatural science fiction genres, he was drawn to the weird and unexplained. He often took inspiration from those cases to write his own take of them - often taking quite a few liberties with filling in the blanks.

Jasper met his ex wife, Melanie, a few months into his quiet life in Derry. They met at one of the local diners and hit it off. They were married within a year, and had their first child - son Julian - not long after. Two years after Julian was born, their daughter Annelise was born.

After the kids, things between Jasper and Melanie started to fizzle out, though it wasn’t noticed until Annelise was five and heading off to school for the first time. There were no major fights, but the passion that was once there in the beginning of their marriage just seemed non-existent anymore, and they realized that they were spending more and more time apart from each other - Jasper cooped up and isolated in his study, writing his books and Melanie off doing her own thing elsewhere. Instead of trying to change or work out how to fix the distance between them, they both agreed to a divorce (the easier, and more sensible option, since the romance was gone). The divorce between them was a mutual decision, and they remained amicable throughout the entire affair, and even to this day, three years later, they were still on pretty good and even friendly terms. They shared joint custody, though the kids lived with Melanie most of the time. He got them on weekends, or any time that they wanted to come and stay with him.

Jasper has been in Derry for twelve years now, and a full-time novelist for thirteen. In that time, he’s written over fifteen science fiction novels, many of them having been best sellers. You can find his work in most libraries and book stores. He’s well known around Derry, but he won’t ever consider himself a world-renowned novelist. Whether he actually is or isn’t is pretty irrelevant to him. Although he’s had quite the successful writing career so far, Jasper doesn’t thinks of himself as anything other than a man from a small New England coastal town, who is a bit of a hermit most days and a devoted father of two on others.

Wanted Connections

Younger Brothers (ages between 28-37) - (Suggested FCs: Chris Evans, Jai Courtney, Charlie Hunnam, Garrett Hedlund, Travis Fimmel, UTP)

Younger Sisters (ages between 22-27)- (Suggested FCs: Danielle Rose Russell, Dominique Provost-Chalkley, Kristine Froseth, Madelaine Petsch, UTP)

Ex-Wife - (Suggested FCs: Katie McGrath, Bryce Dallas Howard, Odette Annable, Anne Hathaway, UTP)

Publisher

Editor

Bartending buddies - anyone who works at The Falcon Bar, really.

Cop pals - he would have introduced himself to most of the police department, as he liked to interview locals and investigate the strange and unusual cold and on-going cases when he was able.

Fans of his books, maybe.

Love interests / Crushes

Work out buddies

#derryintro #leona's intro will be up in a day or two!#hmu for plots!

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no-white-knights-blog · 7 years

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Halo - An Etrian Odyssey Novel (Chapter 25/50)

The unnerving feeling of being watched remained heavy in the pit of Sage's stomach as Halo traversed deeper into the trees, staying on what appeared to be a deer path of sorts so they had some semblance of direction. They walked for quite a while, dispatching a few low-level attacks as they went, and the entire time Sage stayed at Dyria's back, his right hand held firmly in the protector's left.

From behind them, the others from Halo conversed about their current spontaneous game plan of searching for a beast companion that might not even exist. Thinking logically and realistically, Sage was sure this was an impossible quest, the chance of Na'axri being out there when the Guardians had found the bloody aftermath of Historia on the first floor was slim, yet he couldn't find it in himself to say that out loud.

If he opened his mouth and gave up, then that was it, it would feel like he was giving up on his brother. He still couldn't remember a lot about the past, he couldn't remember his childhood, or how he became an explorer, how Historia was formed or where the other members of the guild came from, he couldn't even remember what separated them, and what killed his brother, but he remembered their faces, their names, he remembered how much he loved them all, and he remembered how close Historia had been.

His first family, his older brother by blood, they were gone and now that Sage remembered them, he couldn't just let what happened go. Eliath had asked him to get help, but Sage didn't. He fucked up. His injury had knocked out his memories on the way to get the guards, and he was incapable of bringing his brother the backup he needed. Which lead to the annihilation of their guild.

Sage would never be able to forgive himself for what happened, the fact he failed, yet at the same time something seemed so off about what he remembered. Maybe it was because he still couldn't remember everything clearly, because of his head wound, but when he thought about that day, when he thought about the explorers who made up Historia, it didn't seem right that they would have been taken out by the monsters of the Labyrinth.

He could hear his brother's voice, filled with amusement, "We're not called Historia for nothing."

Their guild was named Historia, defined as inquiry, research, account, description, written account of past events or writing of history, story; to have a name like that, Sage was positive they had done something important, or at least important to Eliath.

Maybe they searched the Labyrinth's for stories, they sought knowledge about the past of Yggdrasil, or they collected information like they were saving up for a library. Or maybe... maybe the explorers who made up the guild were themselves historical. Sage couldn't recall how, he didn't think he was all that special, but then again, he could barely remember anything about being a survivalist besides the basic skills.

Granted he was remarkable with using a bow, but that wasn't anything to be written about in any history books. If the name of their guild was that important, it had to mean something. Eliath said so, and Sage somehow recalled that there was a reason, he just couldn't remember what.

On that note... why did they come to Lagaard in the first place? Did it have something to do with being Historia?

"Hey, Vien, you said that wolf sounded domestic, right?" Iliad asked suddenly, pulling Sage from his thoughts, "How could you tell?"

Sage looked over his shoulder, frowning at the way Vien was swaying on his feet, coughing into his hand as he stopped walking si he could answer Iliad, "It was in the pitch of the howl," he explained as Nirim reached out to steady him and Emery dug into his bag, "When feral wolves howl or bark there's this tone that makes it seem like they don't have any control, they do things strictly on instinct, so the howls and barks and stuff are all crazy and wild. The wolf that was howling earlier sounded precise, like it was calling to someone or something specifically, not just the rest of his pack."

"You also mentioned the wolf sounded wild though," Emery argued, handing Vien one of the medicine vials for the troubadour's lungs, "Drink that."

"It sounded a little wild," Vien agreed, pulling the top off the glass bottle, "It sounded like he was going crazy, but if Sage is right and we're looking for his brother's wolf, that would make sense. It's been two months since we found Sage, two months since his guild was... you know," Vien shrugged one shoulder, looking down, "That would mean Na'axri has been alone in the wild for two months. It wouldn't be surprising if he's developed some feral personality, reverting to his lowest form of animal instincts in order to survive."

"Drink," Emery reiterated, and Vien held the vial to his lips as Sage looked around the area they'd stopped in.

It appeared to be a clearing in the middle of the forest, surrounded by trees and bushes, growing so densely that it was hard to see very far through the trees. Right in the middle of those trees was pristine grass, but nothing else. No flowers, no bushes, just this empty space. Luckily, Safe could still make out the path splitting through it, but it made Sage feel a bit wary. He tensed up when he heard something short and sharp, melodic, a birdsong coming from the trees, but... it sounded a little strange.

"Are there normal birds in the Labyrinth?" he found himself asking, and Dyria looked over at him with a raised eyebrow.

"If there's a normal wolf, there's bound to be other creatures from outside. It wouldn't be very farfetched that some birds may have found their way in here."

"I suppose," Sage agreed, looking up at the trees and slowly panning his gaze over them, like he was expecting to see a robin or stellar jay sitting on the branches preening its feathers.

That same birdsong came again, the exact same notes, and Sage furrowed his brow when the wolf they'd been tracking howled as if in response. It was closer this time, somewhere in the trees just in front of them, and Dyria's hand tightened around Sage's, tugging him closer and reaching for his sword. The bird chirped again, followed by the wolf’s how, then everything became eerily silent.

Halo shuffled into a small group, looking around the area uneasily and trying to pick up any sound at all, either the howl of the wolf or the chirp of the bird, rustling leaves or snapping twigs, but they heard nothing until a few moments later when that same howl echoed, much, much closer, and the entirety of the guild spun in the direction of the noise, freezing when their gazes collectively fell on a large black wolf that had wandered into the clearing directly across from them.

At first it didn't seem like he'd noticed the group, his fur was jet black and his head lowered as he sniffed the ground, his left fore-paw lifted as he limped further into the clearing. He was definitely a large animal, and appeared to be wounded, searching for something, reaching a tree and nudging his nose against the base before baring its teeth and snarling, lifting its head in a snarl before limping in a circle.

"Is-," Iliad paused, "Is that your wolf?"

"I can't tell," Sage whispered back, slipping his hand away from Dyria's and stepping past him, though the protector reached out and grabbed his shoulder to keep him from getting too close to the possibly feral monster.

The wolf still didn't seem interested in them as it took its injured leg and scratched at the bark of the tree trunk, snarling, like it was trying to climb the tree. Maybe there was a squirrel up there, or something related to a squirrel but from the Labyrinth, like a treerat. Ah, Sage hoped not, those things were inconvenient.

"Na'axri?" Sage called out in a nervous whisper at first, reaching up to brush Dyria's hand aside before taking another step forward, stopping when the wolf's ears picked up and it froze, black nose wiggling as it tested the air.

Sage tried again, a little louder, "Na'axri?" he slowly lowered himself to his knees, watching as the creature's ears twitched in his direction before it slowly lowered down so his stomach was almost against the ground, head turning. Sage nearly cried in joy, but his blood froze when the wolf curled its lips to show sharp white teeth, turning towards where Halo was standing and easing towards them in a dangerous hunting stance.

"Fuck this," Sage heard Dyria hiss before the protector grabbed his arm and yanked him back, standing in front of the survivalist with his sword drawn and shield positioned as a barricade, though the wolf didn't react, continued to slowly slink towards them, "Stay back, Sage."

"Wait!" Sage pushed at Dyria's back, "It still might be him!"

"It's just some feral monster from the Labyrinth, Sage, look at it!"

Sage shook his head and turned his gaze back to the wolf, his eyes growing wide and a gasp catching in his throat when he caught sight of something around the beast’s neck, pushing past Dyria and dropping to his knees again, much to the protectors utter panic and frustration.

"Sage!"

"It is him!" Sage insisted before holding his hands out for the wolf, who had dropped down to its stomach completely, still growling lowly in warning as the survivalist hushed him, "Na'axri, it's me. Do you recognize me?"

The wolf stopped growling abruptly and stretched its head forward, sniffing the very tips of Sage's fingers before a low whine slipped from its throat, the bushy black tail waving as its deep amber eyes became softer and it shuffled forward, dropping its head into Sage's lap.

Dyria slowly lowered his sword and stepped closer to watch as Sage pulled at a leather collar that was around the beast's neck, "See?" the survivalist smiled, rubbing his thumb over the silver tag hanging from the collar, "I told you it was him."

"He's hurt," Emery noted, stepping past Dyria but stopping when the wolf snarled, relaxing when Sage hushed him and scratched behind his ears.

"It's okay, Emery is a nice guy, he's a medic."

Na'axri seemed to settle, but his ears picked up when that same chirping birdsong echoed. He scrambled to his feet and barked, turning in the direction he'd come from as the hair lifted on his haunches, snarling dangerously, looking so feral even Sage felt a little uneasy and panicked.

"Does he not like birds?" Iliad asked, and Sage shook his head.

"No, I... I don't remember. I mean I don't think so. Na'axri, it's okay," he reached out and grabbed the wolf's collar, dragging him closer, and the wolf willingly followed where he was lead, pressing his side against Sage and growling lowly.

"I think he's protecting you," Vien spoke up suddenly, and Dyria frowned.

"From what? Us?"

"No," Arcan stated, lifting a hand and pointing shakily across the clearing where something large was rustling and knocking against trees, "Probably from whatever that is."

"Get up," Dyria grabbed Sage's arm and hauled him to his feet, pushing him towards the others, "Let's go before it sees us."

"Whatever that thing is it's big," Iliad said, and Vien made a weird noise.

"Hold on, it didn't show up until that bird started chirping," he held his hands out, "Maybe it can be controlled with the power of music."

"Vien if you don't start running I'm going to sock you in the jaw," Iliad bit.

"Na'axri, come," Sage called, holding a hand down, and his brother's beast companion stopped growling and turned, trotting up to the survivalist and allowing him to grab onto his collar as Dyria pushed Sage to walk faster.

For a while the guild managed to stay the same distance away from whatever was following them, until they broke through the trees and found themselves back on the path they'd been on that morning, premature sighs of relief echoing until a sharp whistle filled the air, followed by a monstrous roar that had all eight of them freezing in place.

The monster towered above them, blue coloring most of it, and piercing yellow eyes that had Sage trembling, hugging his brother's bow against his chest as a noise of fear fell from his lips, the dinosaur-like beast breaking through the trees and gaping its mouth open with a scream that could match that of a mountain lion, amplified by about a thousand times, thick saliva dripping from its terrifying rows of razor sharp teeth.

"I don't mean to sound like a bitch," Vien stated, "but what the fuck is that thing?!"

"A Raptor, I read about them," Iliad answered, holding his bow up and grabbing an arrow from the quiver at his back, "We can't outrun it, we have to fight."

"It shouldn't be here," Sage whispered, his hands pressed against either side of his head, eyes wide in horror, "It shouldn't be here, this is the first floor. No, no the second, no... where are we? Why is it here? Raptors occupy the fourth floor, this isn't possible, why is it here?"

"Oh fuck," Iliad hissed and Emery pushed past Nirim to reach the panicking survivalist, taking Sage's shoulder and squeezing it.

"Easy, take deep breaths, you're okay," Sage shook his head, gasping at this point, and Emery scowled at the monster that was essentially herding them into a group, "Sage can't fight, he's gone right now."

Dyria tuned his head to look back at Sage in concern, inching closer to him and taking his chin, "Sage, look at me," the foggy magenta eyes shifted to meet Dyria's green, "You're okay. You're safe. This won't be like what happened to Historia. I'll protect you."

The clouds of fear seemed to lift, and Sage slowly pulled his hands from his head, staring at Dyria in fear, "This is the monster that..."

"I understand," Dyria whispered, moving his hand so it was cupped against the back of Sage's neck, "but it doesn't need to be feared. You're strong, Sage. This is your chance to avenge your brother."

That seemed to wake him up a little more, his eyes narrowing in determination as he nodded firmly and grabbed his bow, looking up as the Raptor roared again, "We need to spread out," he said quickly before Dyria could get a word in edgewise, throwing an arm to the side and pointing, "It's trying to keep us close so it's easier to pick us off, scatter and find secure places to attack."

"Do it," Dyria agreed, hoisting his shield higher and pointing with his sword, "Emery, take Vien and stay back, stay away from the fight, and if the bastard comes at you, run and don't look back."

Emery clenched his jaw and nodded firmly, grabbing Vien around the wrist and dragging him towards the back, stopping suddenly and spinning on his heel, "Zed, stay out of the fight!"

The dark hunter craned his neck to give Emery a confused look, "I'm good at fighting," he assured, and Sage spoke before Emery could argue.

"It's weak to ice, so get in as many close-range attacks as you can manage, Nirim. Zedimir, try to trip it up," Nirim nodded firmly and Zed pulled out his whip as Sage looked over at Arcan and Iliad, "You two stay together, stay away from the main fight, aim for the eyes and the feet. I'll get to a tree and aim from above."

"Got it," Iliad nodded and elbowed Arcan to get him moving.

Sage watched as the four of them ran off to position around the raptor before turning and inevitably meeting Dyria's eye, "Any order for me?" the protector asked, and Sage nearly stopped breathing from the look in his green eyes.

"Just... stay away from its teeth, okay?"

"I can do that."

Sage nodded and ran past him, smiling when he noticed Na'axri was running at his side, despite his wounds. In the midst of battle, all previous injuries became nonexistent. Sage knew how to fight this thing, for some reason it was familiar, the scream-like roars, the blue shade of reptilian skin, the frothing mouth and the frustrated way it started to pace when it realized its meal had scattered and was fighting back.

Sage climbed the first tree he got to, settling on the highest branch he could reach and pulling out two arrows, biting onto one as he prepared the second, drawing back on the string and aiming at the Raptor. At the height he was standing at in the tree, he was eye-level with the FOE, and when it turned its head in Sage's direction, he loosed the arrow and destroyed its right eye.

"Nice shot!" he heard Arcan yell, and smirked around the shaft of his arrow.

Of course it was, he was trained for this after all. For years he worked alongside Eliath, both of them learning from books and from firsthand experience, because they never had a mentor. That's right, Sage realized, the only reason they became survivalists was because they were drawn to the skill. They had no memories of parents who were born with the affiliation of a survivalist, they were simply fascinated by it and wanted to immerse themselves in the lifestyle.

For years from the moment Sage could walk, he and his bother trained together, researched and cataloged, self-taught from the age of four. That was why they were in Historia, because they had these skills without training with a veteran survivalist. Sage remembered training, he remembered everything about being a survivalist, crouching in his tree and watching as Halo attacked the Raptor from the ground, letting those memories flood his mind, filling him with pride.

Eliath had been a protégée, skilled from birth, and he taught Sage everything he knew, the way to hold his bow and set two arrows against the string at one time, loosing both together and hitting a soft spot on the Raptor's neck.

"Can you see me?" Sage whispered out, "Are you proud of me El?"

Sage remembered Historia, he remembered they were all skilled in unorthodox ways, that's why they were called Historia. So why then... why did they fail? How were they bested by this creature? There was no way one Raptor had the ability to take out all of Historia. Something wasn't right. Not to mention they'd been on the first floor. Raptors shouldn't be anywhere near that low level, so how?

"Sage!"

The survivalist tensed up and lifted his head, he hadn't even realized he was lost in thought for a moment there, distracted by his memories and the realization that it would have been impossible for all six members of Historia to have been bested by one FOE, especially this one.

When Sage looked up he nearly screamed at the gaping jaws that were baring down at him, throwing himself to his feet and slamming his back against the trunk as the Raptor snapped its jaws closed, splintering the thick branch that Sage had been perched on. Saliva soaked shards of wood flew through the air, tearing into the shoulder of his shirt and scraping across his skin, pulling a gasp from him as he grabbed at his arm, looking at the blood on his fingers and cursing as the toxin quickly worked away at his arm, paralyzing it.

Eliath's bow fell from his limp fingers and Sage clung to his shoulder as he grit his teeth and looked back at the Raptor, glaring into its piercing eyes and feeling suddenly confused. These eyes... they weren't the ones Sage remembered. For certain it had been a Raptor that attacked them, but the ugly yellow eyes that were staring at him like he was a meal weren't the ones from his nightmares.

"Move, damn it!" Iliad screamed, and Sage threw himself out of the tree as the Raptor shot forward again, its powerful jaws breaking into the trunk where Sage had been standing.

He hit the ground hard on his paralyzed shoulder, luckily it kept him from feeling too much of the pain, and reached out to grab his brother's bow before crawling along the ground to get further away from the FOE. He found himself freezing up when a large shadow fell over him, splintered shards and chunks of wood raining around him.

At this point in time, most people would see their life flash before their eyes, but amnesia didn't make exceptions, even at death's door. Sage slowly looked over his shoulder to see the Raptor towering over him, and choked on his breath, trying to use his bow but failing, as his left arm was entirely useless.

He heard a short whistle then, a melody he swore he recognized, and the Raptor froze up, allowing Sage just enough time to look up and see the silhouette of a man standing on a high branch of the tree just a few yards in front of him. Sage couldn't see his face, it was getting dark so he couldn't make out anything. All he could see were the piercing yellow eyes.

It clicked together finally, and the man let out a long, high pitched whistle, like he was sending out a kill command that the Raptor acted on, roaring. Sage threw his good arm over his head in an attempt to protect himself, horrified screams echoed in his ears even louder than the monster's screams of victory.

Then the sound of clashing metal, so loud it hurt Sage's head. His eyes were pinched closed but the noise of metal scraping against something sharp was deafening, then came the sound of that same metal being crushed, a crunching sound that had the survivalist's stomach doing a flip. All sound seemed to die out, there was a ring in his ears as he peeled his eyes back open, holding his arm as he shifted around and looked over his shoulders.

This time he did stop breathing.

Dyria was standing over him, facing the Raptor, who had it's jaws closed around the protector's left arm and shoulder, down to his chest, locked in place, his armor pierced through as if it were a wet paper towel. Sage couldn't even see his shield, but it was likely in the monster's mouth. Even in that position, Dyria's sword had pierced the Raptor's eye, plunged deep into the FOE's skull, and his body gave a shudder as he shifted on his feet, pushing at the hilt of his sword and slowly, sadistically so, eased the sword deeper, until none of the blade could be seen.

The Raptor swayed on its feet and fell onto its side, taking Dyria with him. Finally, Sage made a noise, screaming, scrambling on his knees over to the protector, who's left arm and shoulder was still locked in the monster's jaws. He was on his knees and slumped over the Raptor's head, moving sluggishly as blood pooled in the dirt around his knees.

"Dyria!" Sage dropped to the protector's right side and reached out for his face with his right hand, "Look at me, please."

"Oh god, oh god," Vien was shaking, the second person to reach Dyria, and Sage looked up as Nirim climbed onto the Raptor's neck, taking his katana and slashing at the tendon in the monster's neck to loosen its jaw.

He got the mouth open with Arcan's help, and Emery was the one who carefully pulled Dyria from its jaws, laying him out on his back and grabbing his face. His skin was the color of ash and his green eyes were unfocused, but he wasn't complaining or saying anything, just lying there. In fact, he almost looked confused.

"Emery," Iliad's voice sounded wrong, and Sage looked up to see he was about as pale as his brother, eyes wide, "He..."

"We have to get back to Lagaard," Emery whispered, his head bowed and his hands shaking as he started to undo the buckles holding Dyria's armor against his chest, pulling the chest plate off and dropping it to the side as Nirim knelt down at the protector's head to help hold him up by his shoulders, letting Emery pull the rest of the armor from his back.

The damage done was obvious without the armor hiding it, several large, deep punctures in a row starting from his shoulder and leading down his chest to his hip, lacerations trailing along his left arm. The wounds were bleeding heavily, his shirt was stained deep crimson, which was now staining Emery's hands as well as he vainly tried to stop the bleeding.

"Dyria," Sage whispered and reached out to push back the protector's black hair, choking when his green eyes shifted to him, a smile pulling at his lips.

He still didn't say anything, but his eyes were easy to read. He had the same look in his eyes that Eliath had that day. Dyria didn't regret a damn thing.

"Activate an Ariadne Thread," Sage vaguely heard Nirim order, and lifted his head to look up into the tree where that man had been before.

He was gone now, but Sage couldn't help how scared he was. Whoever that man had been... he was the reason Historia had been attacked. Eliath, Lesai, Naylin, and Flandr... they were gone because of that man, and now Dyria...

Why?

#took me three tries to post this #fuck you wifi #dyria ded #goodbye dyria #why are all protectors like this jfc #you'd get along well with jhon tho #EO #etrian odyssey #fanfiction #original characters #guild halo #my babies #meet na'axri he's awesome

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artificialqueens · 7 years

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Star Struck, Fuck! {Bidadore} Tonksie

A/N: So while I was writing DMISWD I had a plot bunny! Unlike most of my plot bunnies it did not just leave me alone and wait it’s turn until I was done! So after writing it in my journal it demanded to be written. Enjoy!

Summary: Soulmates AU- A world where you see black and white until you touch your soulmate for the first time! Bianca Del Rio, winner of RuPaul’s season 6 has the best top three friends ever in Courtney Act and Darienne Lake! They Surprise Bianca with Danny Noriega tickets, a pop star Bianca secretly loves!

“You got me concert tickets. Bitch do you know me at all?” Roy sassed looking amused at his best friends. They probably weren’t cheap tickets knowing Shane and Greg. Hell they were basically front row so either Shane had pulled some strings with his music contacts, being a model and singer had its perks, or they’d both shelled out a pretty penny for them.

“Yes! Those are Danny Noriega tickets!” Shane squealed brightly. “Oh come on you love him!” he insisted stubbornly crossing his arms. Shane refused to accept that this was not the perfect Birthday present for Roy! Sure he’d asked for bolts of fabric or a gift card to a craft store but this was totally better!

“I do not Queen! I don’t listen to shitty pop music!” Roy lied. Well, it wasn’t a total lie. Roy did usually avoid the shitty pop music that seemed to invade every shop. But he did listen here and there and the main one that caught him was Danny. The kid had a smoky voice and was just a little bit to die for with his pouty lips, straight and way too long hair, and those big light eyes. He was a total lady killer and he was gay like every other man at the table. He was also, as previously stated, a kid. No matter his sex appeal or what happened in Roy’s mind every time he listened to ‘Dynamite’.

“Yeah sure you don’t. So can I have my Copy of After Party back now?” Greg tossed in sassily with a pointed smirk.

“I lost it.” Roy shrugged. Another lie. He listened to it all the time. He was tempted to make a copy or just buy one but really stealing Greg’s had just been easier and so much cheaper.

“On your living room table? I saw two days ago.” Shane insisted laughing. “If you want we can even go in drag so no one will see your face.” Shane offered smirking.

“Bitch people know Bianca, Courtney, and Darienne better than they know us!” Roy smirked laughing. “But fine. I’ll go to the concert. Thank you guys. I know it wasn’t cheap.” He sighed giving in and looking at the tickets. This was going to be amazing. He didn’t totally know why he was always so drawn to the kid in the CDs. Preteen Roy who was still in love with shiny pop stars and craved color would have told you that he was sure Danny Noriega was his soulmate. Preteen Roy had been completely sure that his soulmate was going to be famous.

Adult Roy had stopped searching for color. Shane had met his soulmate after their stint on Drag Race where they had been top three together. Bianca had won and their lives had rocketed into chaos. Greg had already had his for years before they even got on the show. So Roy was the only one in a black and white world. He had stopped caring really. He had people around to help make sure his colors matched for people who could see them and usually he just stuck to black, white, and silver anyway because black was slimming and the other two just worked well on him.

Roy wasn’t naive enough to believe his soul mate was a pop star anymore. Hell he was pretty sure he just didn’t have one, but if he did it would be just his luck the person he was meant to spend his life with was fourteen years his junior.

“Yay!” Shane squealed excitedly. “Perfect! So night of, we’ll pick you up! Wear something hot! He sometimes picks people from the audience to sing to and I want it to be you!” Shane was already planning out their night. He’d insisted Roy was secretly in love with Danny for a while, which he was but he’d be damned if he was going to let Shane know that.

“Doesn’t he usually pick guys with tattoos and piercings?” Roy pointed out flatly.

“And how would you know that Miss ‘I don’t pay attention to pop stars’?” Greg teased smugly with pointed lips and raised eyebrows.

“Oh shut up, Shady Elephant.” Roy muttered looking down at the tickets he’d set next to his coffee.

—

Danny was obsessed with color. His mom had met her soulmate in an adorable and tragic way where she didn’t get to spend long with him but their time together was beautiful. Danny had grown up on stories about him and living in a world of daydreams of his own tragically beautiful romance, hopefully with a better ending. Bonnie’s soulmate wasn’t Danny’s father. Bonnie hadn’t had kids with her Soulmate. But Danny knew so much about him he might as well have lived with the man his entire life.

Danny was secretly sure that his mom’s soulmate would have loved Adore! He was sure the man who should have been his dad would have supported his drag like his mom did. Sure his mom was protective and had asked him not to perform as Adore to keep him safe,which his managers loved; but he always dreamed of a world where his mom had been able to have their family with her soulmate instead of his shitty father. Then he was sure he wouldn’t have had to hide that part of him.

Danny was confident he wouldn’t lose his soulmate the way his mom lost hers. He was sure that once he saw in color the world would be better. He’d have someone who accepted him as he was and helped him go to new heights. He’d have a sexy guy who loved Danny and Adore and wanted both and loved his music.

Music was another thing. Danny had always been a singer. It have gave him purpose and direction. When Danny performed he swore he could see color for a little bit. Like his mind tricked him into believing it. He had always hoped that when he became famous his soul mate would just find him! That hadn’t worked out so far. He didn’t know what was taking so long. He thought he’d found him over and over but so far nothing had worked.

Making top three in Idol with the David’s had been amazing. He wasn’t really that close to the two he’s been with in that last episode but it has been fun. He’d had a year of spotlight and then almost nothing. He went to school for a while. He was miserable in continuation school but managed to graduate and performed as Adore some in night clubs in WeHo before his comeback at 21. He’d called his old label that had taken him at 17 and released a new album and had been working ever since. His Youtube channel had made it pretty easy since he posted pretty religiously on there though nothing in drag at his mom’s request.

The celebrity life was a whirlwind and Danny loved it. The parties were amazing and he was making his mom and her new, and much cooler, boyfriend proud. It was lonely sometimes but he couldn’t see himself trading it for anything. Except maybe winning RuPaul’s Drag Race and meeting his soulmate at the same time. He loved that show! He watched every episode and kept hoping someday Ru would ask him to judge. He’d talked to his manager about auditioning for it for a while. Especially after Courtney Act, and Australian Idol contestant had competed in the same season as his friend Jay who he’d started out as Adore with. But that has been firmly put down.

So he contented himself to watch and dream about it. He dreamed about hanging out with Alaska and Sharon Needles and Jinkx and Detox and especially the season six finalists. Bianca, Courtney, and Darienne were his favorites. They always seemed so close and so perfect. He wanted to join them. But that was not an option. Danny couldn’t let Adore out of the bag which meant no Drag Race, no queens, and no RuPaul. Apparently being out and gay was enough of a problem for his people to have to deal with.

Danny put on his stage makeup contouring just enough to make himself happy and looked at his glitter before putting it back in his bag with a sigh. That wasn’t an option for him. He looked at himself, natural lip color, only a few little streaks of different grey in his pretty short hair which was supposed to be a color, he didn’t even know which one! He’d asked his mother for purple. He wanted long bright colored wigs and loud lipstick and glitter everywhere! He didn’t even know what they looked like past the greys that shaded his world. He just knew he was desperate to show those sides of him just as much as he was to see the colors he already loved.

Once he’d tried passing off a bright lipstick as just not knowing what color it’d been. He’d walked in the next day with a makeup artist waiting for him to do basic boy makeup. He’s never done it again. Doing his own stage make up was calming and fun for him. No matter the restrictions he had to deal with from it.

“Danny sound check time. Is your makeup finished?” the stage manager asked knocking on the door.

“Yeah I’m done.” He said popping up excited for the show and coming to the door with a smile.

Behind the stage manager his manager pursed her lips looking completely unamused. “A little too much contour Danny.” She nit picked.

“I think it looks cool. It’s a manly contour.” Danny insisted.

“Most men don’t know the meaning of the word contour.” The manager shot back.

“Gay men do. I’m still allowed to be that!” He reminded stubbornly with a slight glare.

“Fine just try to keep it toned down. I say this for your protection. It’s because I care.” She said gently trying to call calm down the star and avoid a diva tantrum. He didn’t throw them often but makeup and drag was definitely trigger buttons for him.

Danny took a breath and nodded. He understood. He knew she meant well but it was still so frustrating for him! He just wanted to be himself. “I know.”

The woman in front of him smirked looking him over. “Ready for the show?” she asked trying to cheer him up the way she always did.

Danny instantly switched and gave her a beaming smile. He had slipped into his airhead persona he put on for stage. “Party!” He said brightly and nodded before bouncing away leaving the manager and stage manager to sigh sign in relief. Danny was sweet and a great preformed but makeup and his drag stuff was a hard line for him. He hid it from the public but it was part of who he was and that always made it a struggle.

—

Roy looked down at his tighter than usual jeans and a button down shirt someone had once called red. He hated that he was trying to look nice. All this for some little gay pop star that probably wouldn’t take a second look at his effort. But hell, at least he wasn’t putting 6 hours into a makeup right?

Shane and Greg were already there. Shane was scantily clad as one would expect in a tight tank top and skinny jeans. He was probably hoping to flirt and maybe make his lover jealous with stories about men he’d flirted with while at the concert. Greg looked much more normal for a concert but if Roy were honest Greg was the only one of the three actually looking like he was going to a concert not a wine bar or a dance club.

“Look who decided to dress all sexy!” Shane cooed excitedly looking Roy over and Greg gave him a thumbs up looking far too proud.

“It’s not cute to compliment yourself Queen.” Roy joked flatly but smirked slightly just to show he was joking. They all laughed and Roy looked up at the huge hall that the event was taking place in. “He really is popular isn’t he?” It was sort of a realization to him in all honesty. Looking over the place and all the people gathered around it was impressive. Roy could only imagine drawing in crowds like this for one of his shows.

“He’s a heartthrob.” Greg shrugged “They tend to get a lot of attention. Look at the world’s oldest twink over here.” he pointed his thumb over and Shane who smiled and struck a sexy pose.

“And I am working it!” Shake joked making the other two break out laughing.

“Sure you are Queen. Now work it back into the box.” Roy teased amused and relaxed by the banter. He wasn’t totally sure why he was nervous but for some reason he was. He felt his palms sweating. It was like he was expecting something, which was stupid. Maybe he was just excited, he didn’t go to events like this often. At least not events he or one of his friends weren’t the headliner for. It was a night to relax. “Let’s go get some fucking drinks!” he suggest. A suggestion that was touted to be brilliant by his cohorts and instantly acted upon.

—

Danny ran on stage ready to turn up. “HOW ARE YOU DOING LA!” He shouted in his bright party Boy voice. He looked at the crowd and nearly died.

Right there in the front row were Bianca Del Rio, Courtney Act, and Darienne Lake! They were sitting in the front row free of drag feet from Danny. He pushed down the urge to completely squeal over the queens and just dive at them. He took a deep breath to calm down and smiled. “Are you ready for a great show?” she asked brightly waving.

He fell into performing. The world became brighter for him and everything felt right. He paid a little bit of special attention to the front row where Bianca, Courtney, and Darienne were. Mostly Bianca. God she was hot in person. As a boy with those dimples and that hair he looked hot.

Danny danced and sang and flirted his way through his first song trying his best to drive the sexy drag queen in the front row absolutely bonkers as he did. He moved his body to the music and danced and had a generally good time. The first song was really a warm up to get everyone going and it worked wonders. He had everyone jumping and dancing and he was having a blast as his vision swirled brightly with the lights on him.

Roy was utterly enchanted. Danny was so fucking beautiful up there. He was dancing and singing and really in his element. If he had loved Danny’s voice on the CDs it was nothing compared to real life. It was like there was something missing on the processed discs that reality added. He felt like Homer in the ‘Odyssey’ but without the rope or the mast to save him from the siren’s pull. He danced up to the front of the stage with Courtney laughing and jumping to the music and letting Danny’s voice fill his every sense with energy and electricity.

They danced to the foot of the stage and jumped around getting taken away with the music. One song flowed into another and they kept shout-singing along, dancing, and cheering. Roy kept on being pulled back to Danny. He knew it had to be a figment of his imagination but he could swear that the diva on stage kept looking at him. He supposed that was the talent and draw of concerts and the front row. You got to feel like the star was looking at you.

Every so often Danny would reach down a hand and people would scream and grab for him wanting a touch of the star power the boy contained and after probably five songs in Roy was loose enough that he reached up with the crowd. His eyes met Danny’s and their hands touched and Roy felt a shock.

Danny was flying high as his hand touched Bianca’s. He almost didn’t want to let go feeling like a bolt of energy had torn through him. He looked up and ran across the stage singing and celebrating and the world looked different. It looked even brighter. The tint of the world changed. He chalked it up to his excitement about the queens and performing in general.

Roy wasn’t so lucky.

The first color Roy saw was green. He didn’t know the actual name but he remembered someone saying Danny’s eyes were green. If it was true green was his favorite color. He looked down and saw his shirt was some dark but loud color. ‘Red’ echoed in his mind remembering the name he’d never cared about before because he never thought he’d see it! He liked it. It wasn’t Danny’s eyes but it was nice.

The color drained from his face and he ran out hyperventilating. He needed a drink. He needed ten drinks. He needed it to be a lie. He couldn’t be seeing color! He really couldn’t be seeing color because of a fucking baby pop star like Danny Noriega!

Only one thing made sense to Roy and that was running. When Danny moved to the other side of the stage completely unaffected by the touch Roy turned and moved at a swift walk to the door. This couldn’t be happening!

Shane and Greg ran after him totally confused at what was going on as Roy tore through the halls looking for a bar. “Roy! Roy wait up!” he shouted running after his friend. Greg did not run but easily followed Shane’s shrieking.

Roy however paid no attention as he walked up to a bar and ordered a very large cocktail of some kind. He didn’t care what. The scene played over and over in his mind. He looked for what it could mean, he looked for any options he had. He realized there was something worse to this than finding out his soulmate.

“God what is the matter with you! You tore out of there like it was nothing.” Shane accused as he caught up Greg not far behind.

Roy looked at him instantly hit in the face with the shirt he was wearing. “Bitch what the hell kind of color is that?” Roy said without thinking. Sure it looked fine on Shane but it was just a weird one. He didn’t know a name for it. It was almost red but not. Greg’s eyes went big in seconds. Shane wasn’t quite as fast.

“It’s pink! I love p–” As soon as he got there he realized what that actually meant. “Oh my GOD!” He squealed “Who who who?! Is it Danny?! Oh PLEASE tell me it’s Danny!” He erupted excitedly chattering his mind going into making all these plans to set them up.

“Who else would it be?” Roy asked flatly downing his coctail quickly and grimacing at the overly fruity taste but ordering another. He needed hard liquor and cocktails were some seriously hard drinks.

“Right… Of course it was Danny! Oh my God that’s so exciting!” Shane squealed bouncing in her seat.

“You don’t really look– happy– about this.” Greg pointed out in his halting mannerism he used.

Roy ran a hand through his hair and hissed out a breath cursing in true drag queen fashion under his breath. “What is there to be happy about?” Roy asked sourly.

“You found your soulmate!” Shane exclaimed sounding more surprised than when she was arguing with Michelle about her Banjee girl look and her gold bamboo hoop earrings.

“I know that! That’s why I’m out here drinking.” Roy pointed out.

“It seems like an odd choice. Since the love of your life is in there singing his heart out.” Greg reasoned looking him over just as curious as Shane as to what was going on with Roy in this moment. From Greg’s voice he figured they were trying to calm him down. Really it was just pissing him off to no end! How could they be so dense? Why didn’t they see the problem with this?

Roy clutched his glass a little too tight and glared at both of them. It was probably the harshest glare he’d ever given those two and he glared at them a lot. “Did you see a damn reaction from him?” Roy asked bluntly looking at both straight in the eyes. Both were silent and Shane even looked down. “You’re damn right.” Roy growled and looked down.

Granted he’d never heard of someone having a one sided soulmate but at this point it wouldn’t surprise him to be the first. It was a sick twist of fate. The colors were beautiful but they also made him nauseous! It was horrible knowing the truth! He wished he’d stayed blind! He wished he’d never reached his damn hand for Danny’s. He should have stayed in his fucking seat! He wanted to cry. He refused to cry about something as stupid as soulmates.

“Why don’t we try to get back stage. I know someone on the crew! Maybe if you talk to him, ask him about it–” Shane tried to reason but Roy cut him off in a flash.

“I’d sound like a crazy fucking fan! I’m not doing that! I’m not some pathetic crazy person.” Roy growled slamming his glass on the counter. “It’s fine. I don’t even care about this bullshit that much anyway! I never wanted a goddamn soulmate! I was happy being a bitter old queen alone!” He shouted to the sky or fate or whoever the hell was in charge of this fucked up situation and laughed at his pathetic life.

“Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t we ditch the concert, go to a bar, get really drunk, and pretend none of this ever happened?” Greg offered. “And if Danny starts looking for his soulmate because he saw colors at a concert you can show up on his doorstep on a black fucking horse in a red dress and drag his ass to hell.”

Roy smirked at that, it was his usual joke to say he was the devil. Shane and his romantic side was having none of that idea though. “No! You are his soulmate Roy! I say go jump on that stage and show that boy what he’s missing!” Shane demanded with a table pound to flourish the sentiment for theatricality.

“Shane I appreciate what you’re trying to do but honestly I like Greg’s idea.” Roy said tossing back the end of the second cocktail and feeling the start of a buzz.

Shane huffed and looked between the two. He didn’t know what Greg was thinking walking away from this! Shane knew Roy was upset and didn’t do emotions but Greg had his soulmate! Greg should know how big a deal this really was! Shane was out voted though. “Just… don’t regret this please?” he said gently to Roy who smirked back at her.

“No promises bitch.” He joked warmly and stood up looping an arm around Shane’s waist. “And Pink does look good on you.”

—

Danny was heartbroken when he made it back to the other side of the stage to see the queens gone. He missed singing to Bianca– and the others too but he felt high at the same time. The world was bright in a way he’d never felt before and it was the best performance of his life. He figured he was just going to have to make this the best show so they kept hearing about what they missed.

He finished the concert and the encore and ran to his dressing room still flying high from the energy. It was really weird for him to still have the world feeling this bright though. He walked into the dressing room and sat down. He looked in the mirror and his smile dropped. He ran his hand in his hair pulling up two streaks of his hair. He’d remember asking his mom to dye them purple, not that he knew what purple looked like, because he thought it would be fun.

“Danny! Babe that concert was amazing! I’ve never seen you that good!” His manager walked in smiling and chattering.

“What color is this?” He asked almost in a trance still not totally able to let what this meant sink in.

“It’s purple. Which God that choice. You should have gone with green or something boy! But no! You had to do purple.” She said rolling her eyes.

“What does green look like?” Danny asked looking up at her.

“D-Danny are you… Why are you asking me this?” His manager asked.

Danny looked from his manager to himself in the mirror and it was slowly sinking in. With every passing tick, as it became more real it became more painful. He didn’t know how this was happening or why. He looked down at his makeup and looked back up “Because I can see it.” He rasped. As soon as it was out of his mouth it sunk in and he stood up and started bursting towards the stage. “Don’t let anyone leave! I need to talk to them! Please don’t let them leave!” Danny shouted as he ran onto the stage and into a completely empty room.

“Danny what is going on?” His manager asked when Danny broke down sobbing. In front of him was nothing but an empty amphitheater. This could not be happening! He was supposed to meet his soulmate and know instantly! He was supposed to live happily with them! He was supposed to get the happily ever after his mom never got! It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t right! Why wasn’t his prince charming sitting there at the foot of the stage waiting for him.

“I can see color.” he sobbed brokenly.

His manager came closer and put her hand on his shoulder. “If you’ve met your soulmate and you need a break or something to figure things out with him that’s ok. We can reschedule things and work things around and–”

“No!” Danny cut her off sharply. “I don’t know who it is. He’s not here! Why isn’t he here? Why isn’t he waiting for me? Where did he go?!” Dany demanded feeling like a brat as he screamed in pain to the room. It wasn’t helping anything and he wasn’t making any sense but it made him feel better to scream and let out his emotions and throw a tantrum so that’s what he did.

“Danny Sweetie, what are you talking about?” His manager asked.

Danny took a deep breath and looked at her completely broken. “Before the concert I only saw black and white. Now I can see color.” He said simply. “But I don’t know who it is. He’s not here to see me and what if he doesn’t want me. Why doesn’t he love me? What did I do wrong?” Danny cried to her walking into her arms sobbing. He was hurting. He was hurting so much. He felt unlovable.

In a bar dirty rundown across town a very drunk Roy wasn’t feeling much better. So much for happily ever after.

#biadore #adore delano #bianca del rio #soulmate au #au #tonksie #rpdr fanfiction #submission #star struck fuck #m/m au

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love-ya-tommo-row · 5 years

Text

Unfortunately, it is impossible to be in Louiedom without forming an opinion on “babygate”.

My opinion is basically this- I really don’t like the way people talk about Briana. I don’t like that people say cruel things and treat her as a prop, rather than a real person. I also think she is the mother of Freddie- as my father once charmingly put it, “Women have babies and men have maybes.” It’s substantially harder to fake maternity than paternity. I don’t think the pregnancy was faked.

But really, on the subject of paternity, there are only three possibilities. A) Both Louis and Briana know there’s no way he’s the father, B) Both Louis and Briana have reason to think he might be the father, C) Briana knows he’s the father and Louis knows there’s a possibility he might be the father. But during 2015, when the weirdest press that convinced everyone it was a stunt was coming out, there was no way to objectively confirm paternity, if there was any doubt. While CVS and amniocentesis can technically be used for that purpose, they almost never are because they’re invasive procedures that carry a small risk of miscarriage, and Briana would be entirely within her rights to refuse any request she submit to such a procedure. So everything was based off her word- I strongly suspect she was the ‘instigator’ of babygate, and the weird press was 1DHQ trying to get out ahead of her.

But the thing that struck me was, regardless of paternity and regardless of which of the three scenarios above was true, Briana has a rational reason to claim Louis is the father, 1DHQ has strong business motivations to go along with her claim, and Louis would experience strong pressure on both a business and personal level to go along with stories that he seemed really uncomfortable about.

More thoughts under the cut

Freddie’s birthday means he was conceived sometime between the last week of April and the first week of May, basically. Briana had publicly available photographic proof she was clubbing with Louis and getting cuddly with him three dates within that time frame (5/5, 5/7, 5/9). With a positive pregnancy test, she had leverage to name Louis as the father and potentially sell the story. It could’ve become a drawn out he said-she said if they chose to fight it. But when would she have found out she was pregnant?

I was really curious how the “It’s not real” incident lined up with the conception date. Too early and it would be before either he or Briana could’ve known she was pregnant. But the date (6/27) is just past the 7 weeks mark for fetal age (or 9 weeks if you go by LMP)- pretty much the earliest she could’ve possibly known she was pregnant. So was he making a joke about the doll, or was he thinking about Briana, maybe suspecting she was faking a pregnancy or that it wasn’t his? It’s also interesting to me that Liam joins in with him. He was actually out clubbing with Louis and Briana and the rest of their crew on 5/7, one of the potential conception dates, and shortly after, on 5/11.

The pregnancy is publicly announced on 7/14. People have commented that announcing in the 1st trimester is pretty brazen, and almost totally unheard of in celebrity cases. But Briana isn’t actually a celebrity. She’s an unknown stylist from a normal middle class family in LA. She wants to avoid being pushed under a rug, and she wants attention to promote her career. I am a little curious if she knew the hiatus was coming- she was clubbing with both Louis and Liam and their crew, and while I think a lot of the details were still being fought over (ie, whether or not to tour MITAM) the writing was on the wall by that point in 2015. Did she know she had less than a year of 1D press to try and raise her career profile?

Regardless of the above wild speculation, I don’t know any 23 year old who’s never had a miscarriage before who thinks “I should probably be discreet about this until the 2nd trimester, just in case.” I think it’s reasonable to assume she thought “Oh fuck, I’m going to have a baby, what should I do?” And naming Louis as the father clearly makes sense. Either she knows for a fact he’s the father, in which case her motivations are obvious, she suspects he may be the father, in which case he’s the best to name because he’s clearly the guy who’d best be able to provide her and her child with financial stability, at least through the pregnancy, or she knows he’s not the father but maybe hoped they’d pay her to keep quiet.

Which then brings up the very good question- why didn’t they pay her to keep quiet? Or, alternatively, why didn’t she take the money? I think timing, and the hiatus, is key here. The whole ‘babygate’ thing was unfolding all of three months out from Zayn leaving the band, and a year after “the weed video”. They knew the hiatus was upcoming at the end, though again, who knows how many details were still being negotiated. I think getting through the last four months of tour without a major scandal was the main goal. The only thing less wholesome than a boybander having an oops-baby is a boybander involved in an ugly public paternity suit that would almost certainly devolve into allegations of substance abuse. Even if Louis wanted to fight the allegation of paternity, even if he said he’d never had sex with her before in his life, I think his management and PR team did not give a shit about him personally and would’ve had strong motivations to lean on him shut up and let them put a ‘positive spin’ on things. Rather than trying to bury the story, it seems like they tried to get out ahead of it to prevent any “leaks”. Saying he and Briana “briefly dated” is the most anodyne way possible to describe “allegedly hooked up while clubbing”, and every headline wasn’t just Louis Tomlinson is having a baby, it’s Louis Tomlinson is HAPPY to be having a baby, he’s EXCITED to be a dad, this is fine!! Absolutely no scandal here!! As for her not taking the money, again, either she knows or reasonably suspects he’s the father, in which case she held out because public acknowledgement of her child was more valuable to her, or they just didn’t try to pay her off and jumped into reaction mode, at which point she could hardly say, “Oh, wait, no, I take it back.”

And on a personal level, I think Louis’ background is salient here. I don’t know any man raised by a single mom with an estranged dad who didn’t carry a quiet fear of replaying that in their own lives. So if he had any reason to suspect he may be the father of Briana’s baby, he would’ve experienced pressure to not only go along with it for the sake of the band, but personal pressure to “step up”. Even if he knew he wasn’t the father, if he wasn’t believed, he would’ve experienced this same pressure, just based on appearances.

So then, at the birth- I don’t see what’s so weird about him stepping out to wander around a shop. He wasn’t in a relationship with Briana, why would she want him there? Why should he burden her and her family by awkwardly hanging around at a very stressful point in their lives? Why should he wait in the waiting room for however many hours? I know a man, who is indisputably the father of his child, who went across the street to Starbucks while his wife got an emergency Caesarean, which is waaaaaaay more insensitive. Sometimes people do weird or stupid stuff. If babygate was a planned PR stunt, why have Louis get bored and get photographed buying sunglasses? Why not avoid the hospital all together, or only take “happy dad” photos? There’s some interesting studies of attachment- most women are attached to their babies by the 3rd trimester, but most men don’t form an attachment until they hold the child. IDK, again, obviously there’s multiple ways to view the situation, but “Louis felt ambivalent about the whole thing and wanted to step out for a bit” isn’t...like, proof he’s a bad dad or super bizarre like a lot of people make it out to be.

So Freddie is born (I love the fact he’s named after Freddie Mercury btw, lmao). I think, by that point, Louis had been pretty thoroughly gaslit by everyone around him, regardless of whether he suspects he’s the father or knows he isn’t. He’s spent the better part of 6 months being forced to talk about being a dad, but this is also probably the lowest point in his career. He had literally just lost the job he’d dedicated himself to for 5 years, and I think that he legitimately had to have a little grieving period for 1D. So why not confirm with a paternity test at this point? Maybe he’s being pressured not to rock the boat, maybe he’d feel like a heel for publicly talking about the kid then immediately pressing for a paternity test, maybe he just doesn’t feel like making a fuss. I think he stayed in LA as much for his family’s sake as anything, because, at the risk of overspeculating, if Jay had any reason to think Louis was a father, I think she’d want him to be there for the baby. It is striking, when you look at 2016, the timing of his stay. He’s in LA for 2/3 of the first four months, and almost entirely out of town the last four months of the year. Then in 2017, he starts really working towards a solo career, publicly states he wants Freddie to have privacy, establishes legal custody, then isn’t publicly photographed with him after December 2017.

The custody issue is a whole other thing. If Briana was paid off by 1DHQ, why start shit over his right to see the child? If the stories are planted, why plant them? If the goal is to give Louis the ultimate signifier of heterosexuality, why not play happy families, and if the goal is to humiliate him, having him portrayed as the beleagued father fighting for his rights doesn’t seem that humiliating. IDK. To be fair though, on the other hand, if Briana knows or suspects Louis isn’t the father, that might explain her reluctance to allow him access, while she can’t publicly say he isn’t the father without losing his financial support. It’s also a bit odd to allegedly fight for 50-50 custody then not use that right, but it might’ve been pressure as I think his main goal was to limit the amount of social media pictures she (and her family) circulated of Freddie. You can’t legally prevent a mom from posting pics of her child, except by preventing her from taking those photos. A sort of “cut this shit out or I’ll take him for half the year” thing. Which is maybe a little shitty, but not unjustified- seeking to maximize his legal rights to protect his image is not bad or evil.

As for Freddie being in the care of his grandparents a lot of the time... Like, while a young single mom deputizing her parents to provide a lion’s share of caregiving for her child is perhaps not admirable, it’s hardly unusual. Plus, it seems like half the times we see him with his grandparents, they’re out and about or on vacation? Which seems like a reasonable time for them to be babysitting him, or spending a lot of time with him. Those kind of caregiving arrangements really are just a family matter.

I do get really bothered when I see people say “babygate” must be true, because otherwise Louis would be a bad person and they’d hate him. My own moral sense is very different, haha. To me, it’s much shadier to comply with a publicity stunt involving the life of a real, literal preschooler. Like, image contracts, I understand, but sometimes you HAVE to break a contract. Having a child with a woman you don’t love, seeing that child a few times a year, and paying your child support on time is absolutely not immoral in my mind. I would still be a Louis fan if he did, as they say ‘*** **’, but I am also a fan of him if Freddie is his child.

I think I’ve exhausted almost everything I have to say on this topic haha? Oh, wait, the kid is a leggy 3 year old. He would be a very young looking 5 year old. I work with young children every day, and in every photo I’ve seen of him he ‘appears his stated age’ as they say in the business. So yeah, that’s well and truly out of my system, I think!

In conclusion, I think ‘babygate’ was PR weirdness springing from 1DHQ being their reactionary selves in the last few months of 1D and just generally not giving a shit about Louis on a personal level, I think he’s done his best to minimize this whole thing and good for him, really, I have no bad feelings towards him regardless of which scenario is true. Either he is the father, and he’s paying his child support, or he’s not the father and he’s still paying child support. Anything beyond that does not affect my enjoyment of his music. I think Briana would have rational reasons to behave as she did regardless of her knowledge of Louis’ paternity, and wanting to use a famous connection to try and find financial security and be an Instagram influencer is hardly the worst thing in the world. I don’t like or care about her, but like, she’s not the devil. She had an unplanned pregnancy and she tried to make the best of it. I personally can’t hate her for that. Being catty and mean online is fun, I also enjoy making the occasional catty comment, but I wish people wouldn’t make catty mean comments about, again, a literal actual preschooler.

#me: *just swinging at hornets nests i guess yolo*#ugh i already regret writing this #but i see stuff about this topic literally every day and it's impossible not to have thoughts #now i have WRITTEN THEM and i will NEVER WRITE THEM AGAIN #unless he does in fact *** ** i guess lmao then i will delete this and post a pic of me with egg on my face lolllll

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