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quillyfied · 1 month

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Hellaverse Theories: Hazbin Hotel S1E3

Welcome to Quilly’s Hellaverse Theories, where I overthink the entire Hellaverse! It’s been a little bit; life got busy, I have a semi-major medical procedure at the end of next week, and my reverse seasonal depression is hitting real hard this year, so let’s jump into the madness.

Starting tonight with s1e3!

Short diversion to say: Lucifer sending Charlie out into the world with Razzle and Dazzle (who can turn into dragons) and KeeKee (who appears to be a powerful tool of creation that Lucifer uses, though all the theories I’ve seen people swapping around say it’s something more integral to the hotel itself rather than to Lucifer, but just based on what’s in the show…sure looks like Lucifer gave away a heckin powerful magical artifact to his daughter) is sensible but also warms my heart so much. And I would love so much to know if that was Lucifer’s doing at all, or Lilith’s, or a joint venture from the both of them. I am so ready to learn more about their relationship without the Charlie Blinders on.

Y’know. There is a very strong trend I’m noticing about my own fiction preferences right now wherein a bubbly blond of privileged status undertakes an impossible task to make a difference in the places they choose to be, meet a colorful cast of queer characters, and continually fail while also somehow succeeding at the bigger and more important task of creating a space where a bunch of traumatized folks with a lot of baggage can feel safe to work through those issues and bond with each other and form wonderful found families. Charlie and Stede Bonnet from Our Flag Means Death would have a DELIGHTFUL afternoon tea of swapping lesson plans, is what I’m saying.

(And Angel and Lucius would probably have a field day swapping stories but anyway)

Charlie and Vaggie’s relatively harsh sex-negative attitudes strike me as unusual for the show, which IMO itself has a pretty sex-neutral to sex-positive stance, depending on the angle. It begins to make more sense with a later episode and I’m sure I’ll talk more about this then, but in case I forget: they both appear to be operating off of what they THINK is the standard for getting into Heaven, which…is baloney because NOBODY knows how a soul gets into Heaven (and once they’re there they still bone with frequency and impunity, or at least Adam does). But if you’re going off the basic Christian-centric idea of sin, I can see where Charlie and Vaggie are coming from. Though Vaggie should know a little better what the Heavenly culture is like around those kinds of things, but tbh until we get more information, my assumption is that Vaggie hung around Exorcists pretty exclusively and they seem like a separate class entirely from other angels, if their jobs are a secret from the rest of Heaven and they purposely go into battle fully helmed. They’re two sheltered girls without a clue.

(The way Charlie turned out does make me heavily question what Lilith was actually like and how she expected Charlie to act. I want to KNOW dangit.)

Zestialllllll. I adore him. And I adore that he is, outside of Lucifer, most likely the most ancient being in Hell that we see. Certainly he’s the oldest sinner, and given that there are at least three methods of regular mortal turnover in Hell, that makes his very existence highly impressive. He’s survived hundreds of years of Overlord politics, turf wars, and Exterminations (assuming they’ve been going on for a while, GIVE ME A NUMBER VIVIENNE I NEED TO KNOW), and is so well known that people SET THEMSELVES ON FIRE to get away from him and Alastor walking together down the street. And Alastor gives him something much closer to actual deference, as opposed to what he gives the literal ruler of Hell next episode (a high-charged rivalry anthem on par with Loathing from Wicked, how have I not seen anyone do an edit or a comic of that one yet).

“Some have spun tales of you falling to holy arms.” Followed by Alastor pulling a major bluff, complete with shifty eyes. So Zestial’s information isn’t entirely inaccurate. Which still means just about anyone could be holding the other end of Alastor’s leash, but the major theories of it being Lilith (my personal favorite but also too easy and coincidental, feels like a red herring) or Eve (bound up somehow with Roo, I can just feel it) still feel most plausible to me. This could be foreshadowing and Zestial is wrong, since Alastor does nearly die due to holy arms in the finale, but…those shifty eyes. Zestial is definitely close, guessing a little too near the mark for Alastor’s comfort. What the HECKIE happened that put the Radio Demon and the Queen of Hell down for the count for the same amount of time? It is MADDENING. The incidents are obviously related, but how did that end with Alastor showing back up in Hell and Lilith up in Heaven?

(My cracked fanfic writer brain just went “Lilith decided she was done and passed her Queen duties to the deer man, Lucifer just found out he’s essentially married in power to Alastor, now discuss” but that is getting stuffed to the back of the mental closet where I will only ponder it late at night when I need a good giggle. Especially because it’s far more plausible that if Alastor and Lilith have any kind of deal whatsoever, it has to do with guiding and helping Charlie.)

(…could it be possible that Lilith’s deal with Adam involved trading Alastor somehow? Unlikely, since Adam had no idea who Alastor was, but Alastor being used as a pawn instead of being a major player would be such a delicious burden for his arrogant ass to bear and I kinda want to see it.)

Anyway.

Seeing an Overlord meeting is so fascinating, because watching Velvette come in and immediately challenge Carmilla and Zestial very much establishes something of a generation gap; the oldest Overlords in the room versus the youngest. But before I get ahead of myself and how BRILLIANTLY MANIPULATIVE Velvette is, a little stage-setting: no Overlords appear to have the same business dealings as the Vees, though there is genuine friendship between some of them (Carmilla and Zestial, Alastor and Rosie). No Overlords are locking horns at this meeting before Velvette shows up, no hint of political undercurrents or rivalries. The Overlords in the room are also high-rollers, it seems, the more powerful of the bunch, if only SIX of them own MILLIONS of souls. However, there are some hints after Velvette’s musical number to further shed some light on what Hellish politics are like, but before she comes in, all seems fine. Alastor gets his pride wounded (much to my personal amusement), but overall it’s perfectly civil.

Enter that hashtag bitch.

Her entire performance from top to bottom is a calculated strategy. Step one, show up late, ruffle some feathers with her lack of decorum, make it very clear up front that she’s showing up despite having better things to do. Put Carmilla on the back foot right away. But Carmilla is a professional; she’s a ballerina, used to dancing around her opponents. Step two, pull out the angel’s head and keep a close eye on Carmilla’s reaction, and start to push when Velvette meets immediate resistance to her “full assault plan” (I will eat my hat if they had such a thing at all; the three of them are safe in their fancy tower and they know it, and Velvette attending this meeting was never about the Vees working together with other Overlords at all). Step three: annihilate the meeting, push Carmilla into either admitting what she did and starting an uproar across all of Hell or shutting down the discussion before it can come to light, and the result is: the Overlords don’t actually sit down and make a plan about what to do about this accelerated Extermination. The Vees’ power remains unchallenged as the other Overlords scramble to keep theirs. Velvette planned this from the beginning.

The lyrics in the finale number confirm it, too “After the battle, masterless cattle, Overlords hanging by a thread…nature abhors a power vacuum, it leaves room for you and me. The future of Hell belongs to the Vees.” What better way to secure power than making sure your enemies can’t organize, even if it isn’t against you at first? The Vees are formidable, practically untouchable, because they work together. They can’t have other Overlords doing the same thing, because uniting against one seemingly impossible threat and succeeding has ripple effects. It becomes easier to unite against other threats. And if every other Overlord in Hell decided to band together to take down the Vees, the Vees wouldn’t win that encounter. Much easier to let Overlords’ natural distrust of each other continue to keep them alone and vulnerable while the Vees work in the background to take advantage of that vulnerability.

The Vees are a union-busting corporate tech giant monopoly, is what I’m saying.

Annnnyway.

Side note about character design: Velvette and Carmilla and Carmilla’s daughters all having very similar, if not the same, eye design is fascinating, but I’m not sure if it denotes a connection between them, since they also have the same eye design as hellhounds (seen more in Helluva Boss but there are a few in the background of Hazbin Hotel), and I’m not sure what to make of that tbh. Though Velvette being a doll and the Carmines being ballet-themed, possibly music box ballerina themed, does strike me as interesting too.

Okay, Zestial’s response: “Mightn’t they purge all of Hell for daring an uprising?” He’s the oldest guy in the room. He’s the most cautious, the most cunning, and one of the most powerful Overlords in that room, so probably in all of Hell. And what he just said is EXACTLY why the Exterminations are happening in the first place. Which begs the question: do the sinners know why Exterminations happen? Charlie knows, or at least knows a version of the story; Zestial being so ancient and also throwing out this incredibly obvious possibility that is already currently happening…I’m not sure if this is a writing continuity error or a hint that Exterminations have been happening for longer than Zestial has been around, so long that the original reason for it is lost to time for those who weren’t old enough to be there. The cautious way that Zestial and Carmilla are determined to stop Hell from trying to go to open war against Heaven makes me think that even if they don’t know the reason for the Exterminations, they’re smart enough to guess, and to want to keep their heads down and their people as safe as they can possibly be during a yearly bloodbath.

Also it continues to beg the question of why Lucifer “granted a pardon” to the Hellborn in the first place, if it was so long ago that Charlie probably didn’t exist yet, because a Hellborn sanction wouldn’t protect Lilith. She isn’t Hellborn. Technically neither is Lucifer, but I assume they figured that as an angel, even a fallen one, he wasn’t going to be in any danger anyway (since it apparently took ten thousand years for them to figure out on a wider scale that angelic steel kills angels too) (though it wouldn’t surprise me if the Seraphim all knew and just didn’t say anything). I’m rambling now but hOW LONG, VIV. HOW LONG HAVE THE EXTERMINATIONS BEEN GOING. I’M GOING TO START SCRAWLING ON THE WALLS.

“That was a productive meeting!” Okay, that’s my indication that expecting anything actually useful from this was probably a high bar to reach, but Velvette throwing an angelic bomb in the mix and then working Carmilla up to a bloody froth didn’t help, either. Overlords don’t collaborate, they don’t band together, they don’t share power. Even the Vees’ brand is held together with a lot of mutual self-interest and each one of them thinking that they’re the top of the operation. Though, personally, with this one scene, my money is on Velvette for being the top of that particular dogpile. Since. Y’know. She just single-handedly destroyed any chance of the Overlords working together to try and protect Hell.

(Also please tell me there’s at least one fanfic out there where the Hotel crew actually gives BDSM a shot. I don’t need to read it; I just need to know it exists. With a more nuanced and fair view of what professional BDSM is that isn’t just “weird deviant sex.”)

I can also see why a lot of people think Carmilla is a fallen angel when she’s placed so very obviously in narrative parallel with Vaggie. Part of me thinks this is merely foreshadowing to Carmilla becoming Vaggie’s mentor, because Carmilla being an Overlord and having daughters both seem like things that angels don’t do (and Carmilla’s daughters sharing physical similarities with her indicates to me that they might not be adopted daughters, but perhaps her actual daughters from life, since Sinners can’t reproduce). But there are plenty of little tidbits that would lend themselves to Carmilla being a fallen angel as well, such as the winged shape of her face markings and her general coloration being similar to Exorcists. Not to mention her deep knowledge of how to beat them, but that could very well be the decades or even centuries of observance Carmilla would have gotten in as one of the few demons willingly out during an Extermination Day. I lean towards Not, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she was, either. (How Carmilla and Vaggie both speak Spanish if they were both once angels is another question I want answered, tbh, but that could be something as simple as Heaven/Hell being multicultural by design and maybe they just sort of picked it up. But that doesn’t feel right tbh.)

“I just thought this would all be easier.” OH HELLO MAJOR THEME OF THE SHOW. Charlie’s naivete can be so charming sometimes, but so deeply saddening other times. Watching her grow up and start to shed some of that is a satisfying and subtle character arc and I can’t wait to keep watching her go.

Pentious having minions that have nothing to do with his power makes me more inclined to think that the little creatures that Alastor summons are souls he owns, but again, there’s literally no way to tell just by watching the show right now. Sigh.

Okay, only took two hours to get through this episode, so let’s take another two for the next one! It’ll be fine!

#quilly's hellaverse theories #hazbin hotel #quilly writing

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candied-cae · 2 years

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One of my favorite things about watching Ed and Stede fall in love, is how clearly we see the consequences of their lives effecting how they are able to perceive their own feelings.

Where Ed was shown bad examples of love, Stede was shown nothing at all. When Ed was shown freedom, Stede was still trapped. But when Ed found himself caged, Stede found his way out. And all those things shaped how they realized they were in love.

On one hand, we have Ed.

His first exposure to "love" is his mother's abuse at the hands of his father, that at a young age he felt he carried the responsibility to end. It paints it bad: Even if there was once love there, it withered and died until it became violent, or perhaps there was never love and it was just the thing adults did because that's the world we live in, you get married and hate each other because what else are you going to do to pass the time?

So he runs off, becomes a pirate at a young age, rebelling against society and its expectations, and its rules, and its nuclear families. Fuck them all, Edward Teach doesn't need any of it. And in his new life, he finds power and control over what happens to him for probably the first time. He's good at piracy, he has tense companionships, earns respect, and it's fun. It's new and different from the mainland life.

And then he get's used to it, and suddenly it's just another trap again. It's not the same game as the land fairing people of the world, a different charade, yet still one he has to play just because the world says so. Maybe he didn't get married, but he's got this nickname and reputation and now he had to fill its role. All these expectations he tried to avoid, but he just created new ones. And it's probably somewhere in here, that even if he had let himself believe he could love and be loved, that he lost it again. Such a thing surely wasn't real, people just lie and pretend they loved each other because that's just what you do.

But then he finds Stede. This crazy, weird, fantastic guy who just isn't doing it like anyone else. He is doing what he wants just because he wants and there's no one's stopping him. And it's beautiful and refreshing to see that freedom, after all his years had made him jaded. And at first it was just fun, really exciting and wild and thrilling and joyful, but it was just fun. Something to fill that void of boredom.

Then he really falls. When Stede tucks that silk into his pocket and tells him he wears fine things well. When he really sees everything that Stede is and it's amazing. He's so undoubtably his own person, unwilling to bend to the ways the world wants him to be. He is in open rebellion to society in every way, and in every move he makes he heals a little bit of Edward's broken heart. He gingerly holds it in his hands and assures him that he is worthy of sweetness and finery. And when Ed loves Stede, it's entirely its own feeling. So different from his parents, his crew, his companions. It's just something new to the world that it's never seen before, and it's all his. It's so powerful and beautiful, and he's willing to die or give up any other freedom he has for it. That love meant too much to lose. So when he kisses him, it's his unabashed, unafraid, leap of faith into love's embrace.

And on the other side, there is Stede.

His father's love to him did not exist. All their interactions were cold and dripping with hate. His father hated him. Hated his softness and his hope and all that made Stede himself. And he had no one else to turn to. In school, with the other boys his age, he was hated exactly the same. Tormented and abused in the name of asserting superiority over him. Ripping him to bits for daring to love flowers.

He never had family love, he never had friendly love, and when the topic of romance was finally brought up, he was told he got none of that either. His entire life was a series of business transactions the rich would move around as they organized themselves in their hierarchy. And so he did his job in it. He was "baby Bonnet" so other boys could be better that him, and he was "Mr. Bonnet" so he and Mary could combine their families wealth.

Then he ran away. When he could no longer stand all these different roles he served for everyone but himself, he ran away. And he was only on the waters for less than a year. That was not enough time for him to even begin to understand love. He tried his best, he did have such a large heart despite his life. He showered his crew with respect and gentle understanding, giving to them all the love he held, wanting not just his dreams of piracy, but companionship for the first time in his life. Of course it was strained, he had a lot to learn before they could really bond.

So when he meets Ed, he's almost entirely entranced by his first friend. Someone who is actively enjoying every single thing about him. Every ridiculous character quirk, all his strange priorities, the way he caries himself, his humor - all of it is beloved by Ed. For the first time in all his life, he has someone who actually likes his personality. He was falling in love, but he had no idea that wasn't just how friendship felt. The prospect of companionship was something so foreign to him. All of his love was genuine, just vastly underestimated by himself who couldn't place the name of all the feelings he now carried.

Even when Ed kisses him, he knows he likes Ed, he knows Ed is his favorite person in the whole world, he knows he liked the kiss. But he still wasn't sure how serious it was. Still couldn't be sure it wasn't just a best friendship. It was only when Mary walked him through it would he admit to himself that it was real. It was actually love.

What all those kids did to him, what his father told him before he met Mary, all the times he has felt like an outsider to his own heart: none of it mattered. Despite all of it telling him that he would never get love, he went out and found it. And now that he knows it, he's going to fight like hell to get back to Ed so he can enjoy it.

More OMFD

#Cae Has Lots of Feelings About Our Flag Means Death #God I fucking love them so fucking much #This was just my excuse to ramble about them #And how even though Stede didn't know he loved Ed during the kiss he absolutely did #They fell in love so differently because of the everlasting events of ✨trauma✨ in their lives #And it so goddamn beautifully written and portrayed #Again - lets have some applause for motherfuckin 👏🏻David Jenkins👏🏻 👏🏻Taika Waititi👏🏻 👏🏻Rhys Darby👏🏻#Their work on Our Flag Means Death will literally follow me until the day I die and be so revolutionary to the entertainment industry #Stede not knowing how love is supposed to feel is actually something that can be so personal #I stg they can't make me relate more to Stede Bonnet #I see that man on screen and I just see myself in a million different ways #only main divergence is I don't have a dad -period- and I am not a wealthy middle aged man from the 1700's #Pretty much everything else tho? That's me. He is me and it's utterly gut wrenching and heart warming to watch.#I don't think I've ever gotten to see such a good representation for me in my life - and we don't even share Gender/SocialClass/TimePeriod #Our Flag Means Death #OFMD #Our Flag Means Death Season 1 Spoilers #Stede #Stede Bonnet #The Gentleman Pirate #Edward #Edward Teach #Blackbeard #Gentlebeard #Show Analysis #Stede Bonnet Character Analysis #Edward Teach Character Analysis

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inky-duchess · 4 years

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21 History Ancedotes for my 21st Birthday

So today I celebrate my 21st birthday and I have decided to gift you all with 21 of my favourite historical Ancedotes. Some are funny, some are sad and some are plain bizarre but I hope the make your day 💜

Mary Maloney, an Irish-born suffragette in England followed Winston Churchill around while he was campaigning for a seat in Parliament, drowning out everything he said with a very large bell and calls for him to apologise for his comments on women's rights and suffrage movements.

Clodius Pulcher was a well born Roman noble during the last day's of the Republic. He gave up his Patrician status to become Tribune of the Plebs (an office in which one had to be a Pleb) by being adopted by a much younger Plebian man who became his "father". Clodius was a bit of a riot, sneaking into religious festivals dressed like a woman to sleep with Caesar's wife, building a shrine to Liberty in the ruins of the Conservative Cicero, vetoed the last speech of one of the Consuls (who basically did nothing all year and was apparently going to roast Caesar) and burned down the Senate House with his funeral pyre (the Plebs who loved him literally tearing up the furniture to build his pyre). He was honestly the best fun.

When laying on her deathbed, Queen Caroline of Ansbach turned to her husband George II of England and told him he should marry again. George refused to ever wed again... But added he would have mistresses. Caroline said , likely with a roll of her eyes, "oh my god that doesn't matter."

Florence was a pretty cool city in the Renaissance until Savanorola came to town. He disliked the loose living artists that crowded the city, with their naked pagan gods and rampant homosexuality. He expelled them all with help of the French hoping to make Florence Holy Again. When the Borgia Pope excommunicated him and sentenced him to death, one man in the crowd was reported to have said. "thank God, niw we can return to sodomy." One Floretine man in the 1490s said Gay Rights.

So this list couldn't be complete without an entry of the only American politician I love, Alexander Hamilton who was just a walking entity of sass. I could go on about his sharp sarcasm or his disaster bi vibes with John Lauren's but my all time favourite Alexander Hamilton ancedote has to be this exchange with Thomas Jefferson "There are approximately 1010300 words in the English language, but I could never string enough words together to properly explain how much I want to hit you with a chair."

Caterina Sforza was an Italian noble woman during the Renaissance. She was apart of the powerful Sforza family, which drew many enemies to her. One fateful day at Forli, Caterina's children were snatched as hostages. The besiegers threatened to kill her children if she did not cede the castle. Caterina refused, lifting her skirts and shouted to the besiegers that she had the means to make more children.

Hannibal Lecter's creator Thomas Harris was happy to end his great character's story with the original trilogy. However his publishers forced him to write an unneeded prequel explaining why Hannibal became Hannibal. Thomas Harris agreed lest he lose the rights to his character so he wrote Hannibal Rising, where Hannibal as a young man hunts down the Nazis who ate his sister with a katana.

Nell Gwyn is my favourite mistress of Charles II, mainly because of her sass. Once while trapped in the middle of a riot where Londoners swamped her carriage thinking she was Charles's Catholic mistress. She popped her head out the carriage and told the people "Pray good people be civil. I am the Protestant whore." She also dosed her rival Moll Davis with laxatives in order to free up some of Charles's time and she once flashed her underwear at the French ambassador after asking him why the Franch King did not pay her to spy on Charles because she was with him every night. A true Queen.

Emperor Ai of the Han Dynasty of China once rose from his bed to go do some ruling when he realised his lover, Dong Xian was sleeping on his sleeve. Rather than disturb his lover, the Emperor cut his sleeve off at the wrist to leave Dong Xian nap. Nothing has ever been more romantic than that. Y'all could never.

Princess Margaret the sister of current Queen Elizabeth II was a socialable Princess and often tasked to visit the up and coming music stars of the day on behalf of the Crown. When meeting the Beatles one evening, she noticed George Harrison was acting a little odd. When she asked what was the matter, he replied "We arent allowed eat until you go." Princess Margaret laughed and promptly left so the Beatles could get some dinner.

During the Siege of Jadotsville, Irish soldiers under the flag of the UN were attacked and besieged by local insurgents allied with the Katanga Regime. The insurgents numbered thousands while the Irish only had 158 soldiers, all who were lightly armed. They radioed to their allies assuring them that "we will hold out until our last bullet is spent. Could use some whiskey though".

Napoleon was famous for writing raunchy letters to his wife, the Empress Josephine while he was away. She used to reply with really mundane letters or not at all. She really just could not be bothered with him.

Josip Broz Tito was so fed up with Joseph Stalin sending assassins to kill him, he wrote to Stalin personally to say "If you don't stop sending assassins to kill me. I will send one to Moscow and I won't have to send another." It didn't work but Big Dick Energy.

Successful Roman soldiers returning from war often got to march along in parades known as Triumphs. During this, it was customary for them to sing bawdy songs about their commander. One surviving one about Caesar goes like this "Romans, lock up your wives. Here comes the bald adulterous whore. We pissed away your gold in Gaul and come to borrow more."

Matilda, Lady of the English was a woman so badass that history cannot handle her. She was the daughter of Henry I who left his throne to her after the death of her brother. She was away in France when her father died and her throne was snatched by her cousin Stephen. They battled back and forth for years with neither side ceding any ground. Matilda was once besieged in a castle during a snow storm, with Stephen's men all around her. Instead of fighting her way out. She simply donned a white cloak and walked out of the castle. Just walked out without any of Stephen's men seeing her.

Pedro of Portugal once fell in love with a beautiful lady in waiting called Inez de Castro. For years, they lived as man and mistress, popping out a few kinds. Pedro's dad really did not like Inez and wanted Pedro to find a legitimate wife so he had her killed. Pedro returned home to find the mother of his children dead. Pedro went a little crazy. He had all his father's assassins killed, ripping out their hearts as they had done to him. When Pedro ascended the throne, he demanded the Pope legitimize his children by Inez. The Pope not wanting to upset the King, said he couldn't because Inez was never crowned Queen. Pedro dug Inez up and crowned her as Queen, having all the nobility swear loyalty to her corpse. The Pope had no choice but to agree to his request.

A famously clever general once saved an entire city with an ingenious stragety to sit outside the city waiting for the attacking army to come. The attack had come to fast for the city to ready themselves for a Siege so, the general had to move quickly. He evacuated the city and took his place waiting for the army to come. The enemy forces stopped and took one look at him and bolted, thinking he meant to lure them in one of his famous traps.

Michaelangelo was really badly treated by the Vatican when he was painting the Sistine Chapel. He constantly fought with the Popes over the design and his work, which he was paid peanuts for. Michaelangelo got his revenge in his work, painting the gates of Hell behind the Papal Throne and an angel flipping the ol' fig (the Renaissance version of the bird) toward the Pope's chair.

Peter the Great was not a perfect guy. He kept serfdom as a practise in his kingdom, he had his son tortured to death and he could be an unpleasant guy. But Peter was a dreamer. He wanted nothing more to build a fleet for Russia and bring Russia beyond its borders. Peter took a gap year from ruling Russia to wander around Europe. When he stopped in England, he was granted Leicester House to chill in while he did his shipwright studies. It was here that Peter found a new passion. The wheelbarrow. Cue Peter and his new found English buddies drinking in Leicester House, punching the artwork and rolling each other around in barrels across the house's Great gardens.

Diogenes is hands down a walking shit post. He was a great thinker in Greece during the reign of Alexander but a rather dry, sarcastic wit. He lived in a pithos/a jar because he shunned all vanities and values of society. He trolled other philosophers, attending their debates to heckle them and eat loud foods through them. When Alexander the Great came to fan boy over him, saying that if he were not Alexander he would like to be Diogenes to which Diogenes just said "yeah me too, now get out of my sunlight."

Cosimo de Medici was the son of a Floretine banker with a great knowledge and love of art. Cosimo wished for Florence to release its potentially and join the Renaissance. He hired Filippo Brunelleschi to finsh the Great Dome of Santa Maria del Fiore which had láin unfinished for over a century, a symbol of a failure of ambition. The builders had lost the knowledge of creating a dome so large so it remained unfinished. Despite much opposition from the other nobility and denouncers of the Renaissance, Cosimo's dream of the completion of the dome was completed, making it the largest brick dome in creation at that time. There is nothing like achieving your dreams and certainly nothing like leaving a lasting reminder that screams 'I was right and you were wrong' to stand for centuries.

#Instead of doing shots I decided to give you all a gift #History is our greatest gift #And it's filled with dick jokes and idiots #Anyway happy birthday to me #Go forth and enjoy this great gift #history dump #History Ancedotes #History bites: kinda?

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mor-beck-more-problems · 3 years

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Breaking Bonds || Morgan & Bea

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @beatrice-blaze & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Bea invites Morgan over to share a new discovery. The world will not consent to be fixed, but somebody has to try.

CONTAINS: references to Bea’s, Morgan’s, and Adam’s deaths

There were not many people in this world who understood life and death in the same manner Bea did. They may never have been close before either of their deaths, but after, Morgan and Bea were implicitly connected. This connection made Morgan the clearest person to go to about what Bea had found through her research. The kettle let out a shrill cry for attention as the witch finished lining up the tomes she had flagged for this discussion. It was good timing that Bea’s bracelet informed her that Morgan had crossed into the Vural’s property as she began steeping the tea. She went to the porch with a smile, Dia weaving between her legs as she waited for Morgan. “The tea should be ready soon! I hope you don’t mind that I tried to find something you’d like to eat, though I wasn’t completely sure what would be palatable,” She told the zombie, thinking of the container of meat that she had waiting for Morgan, if she wanted it.

It was no small relief to visit Bea at her place. Morgan didn't know her as well as she did Luce and Nell, but she had an ease with Bea that she couldn’t have with the others either. They had died and come back around the same time, and they were both determined to have a whole life as their altered selves. As she came up to the porch to meet her friend, she sighed and let that ease pull away some of the tension her body carried.

“I don’t mind,” she said, smiling with gratitude. “I will try any and everything you have prepared. I literally can’t get food poisoning, so there’s not much to lose. And thanks for having me over. I want to hear all about New York and Felix and whatever else people who haven’t seen each other in a while swap. But uh, you said there was something you wanted to talk about, right?”

Small talk, Bea had almost forgotten that she should be engaging in small talk because she was so excited by what she had found. “Oh yes! I need to hear all about what you’ve been doing too, I’m sure things have been very exciting over here.” And she did, just like she wanted to see how Morgan was, especially since Morgan was taking care of so many people at the moment. Still, that could wait until after.

Bea invited Morgan in, before walking over to the table and lightly touching a book. “But, first, you should see what I found in here,” She couldn’t help the excited tilt her voice took. Flipping open to the first tab in the book she pointed to a line and read,“‘I have found that some of the new undead can be controlled, tamed if the right-hand guides them.’ The wording is awful, but doesn’t that read like I could help people who are struggling with this? You were the first person who seemed right to call about this.”

“Oh, you know,” Morgan said dismissively. “Been better, been worse. Still kind of a mess. But as long as we have each other, or as much of each other as we can, and if we can keep trying to make hope…” She smiled, weighed down by every terrible thing that had happened over the past month, though no less genuine for it. “We have to get to ‘okay’ eventually, right?”

She followed Bea in eagerly. Distractions were good, learning and projects were better. If she was moving toward something, she might still be able to make something better, or at least be better. She came over to the book and looked at the words. Controlled and tamed were two different things, but maybe this meant that there was an under-utilized conditioning process. Use magic at first to mitigate the damage and get them used to things, Let them choose the right thing for themselves later. “With--by ‘this’ you mean undead hunger cravings, right? Like, if I lost myself in front of a dead body, or a vampire was trying to stay off people. Do you think…” Her hand went to her lips as she thought of Ashley the zombie last year and Nico Jemisin in the thrift store. She shouldn’t get too excited, she shouldn’t brew hope over just a stray phrase and an untested experiment. She shouldn’t, she shouldn’t. And yet. “How far have you gotten on this? This could be…it could save so many people.”

A small, sad smile took Bea’s lips as Morgan spoke. She knew that hope as well as she knew her shadows. Before all of this, the necromancer had never had to worry about being okay, she had simply trusted in the universe to balance itself again. Being hit with hardship after hardship had created that doubt in the world’s ability to allow her to have a break. “We’ll be okay eventually, Morgan,” She said softly, “We’ll be able to create our own okay, you’re strong enough for that.” Anyone who had survived what Morgan had already was more than capable of bending the world to her whims.

She nodded eagerly, “That’s what I would intend to find out at the very least. I’d like to think that the word ‘tamed’ would imply that, though I do hate the implication that the undead needs to be tamed.” She had found herself drawn to the power of necromancy at the beginning, the ability to twist death itself to what she wanted. Now, though, after experiencing that power, she had found something softer, something that could change lives, save them. That part of herself she felt had left in death was returning, the part that could help and care for others without asking what they could do for her. She could grant people some form of comfort again, she could help facilitate something beautiful from a hardship. “I’ve marked every mention I’ve found of it, but there’s not much I’ve seen. I think we can write something together on this, we can find a way to get this information out there to help others.”

A piece of Morgan’s heart unclenched at Bea’s reassuring words. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding something in, but she was swallowing tears and so loose in her bones she felt like she might fall over. It had been a while since someone had tried to comfort her, and even longer when she was able to accept their gift without any guilt. Morgan smiled, lips quivering, and whispered, “thank you,” before putting her attention back on the main subject.

“What would you need? In terms of resources or experiments?” Morgan asked. She was self-conscious enough about her now-constant discoloring at all times, but as she considered the possibilities, she felt the hollowness of her stomach too. Morgan shouldn’t be this excited for Bea’s idea. Fuck Odell, and fuck her hold on this cursed town. “Would it...I mean, you’re the expert, so you would know whether it’s safe or too dangerous if you...tested it on me?” She met Bea’s eyes with trepidation. “I’m not high risk or anything, obviously, and a year does a lot for a girl’s impulse control around viscera, but...I wouldn’t say no to some extra help.”

There were many forms of strength that Bea has seen over the years, many of them represented by the women she surrounded herself with. Morgan, she found, had one of the softest forms she had seen yet, but that did not mean she didn’t respect it. If anything, it proved to Bea that she could be strong without violence and anger. Her sisters, for as strong as they were, often hurt themselves from it. Luce with her anger, an all too powerful storm that untethered her, but kept others aware of who they were dealing with. Nell with her fierce strikes, hunting beasts and controlling demons that left her all too vulnerable to the world’s evil. Bea couldn’t always be like them, but she could be softer, she could adopt some of Morgan and create her own brand of strength that did not always mean striking first.

“Well, we’d need an area far from anyone else just in case something went wrong.” Bea wouldn’t risk doing it at her home when her sisters were so close by. She looked at Morgan for a long moment, she trusted the zombie, but it put Morgan in a hard situation if something were to happen. “We can try it on you, but I would want other people there, just in case. Who would you feel comfortable with helping?” Bea had her own list of who they could call, but Morgan was the one being controlled. She was certainly in a much more vulnerable spot. “I think we should start with small portions and then work our way up.” This would be a long process, but it would be worth it to explore the possibility.

“Well, there’s plenty of spots in the woods,” Morgan sighed. “If screaming moose can hide, so can we. Especially on the outskirts, near the border, I don’t think there’ll be anyone for miles.” She wasn’t that worried. White Crest liked to keep its secrets to itself as much as possible. But Bea’s second question was another beast. Deirdre came to her mind briefly, but her love had promised to never physically harm her on purpose and refused to be released. And then, Bea wouldn’t want to endanger her sisters after all they’d been through. Who did that leave? Mina, who barely spoke to her anymore?

At last, Morgan had to admit defeat. “I...don’t know. If you know someone or have ideas, I trust your judgement. You know about discretion as much as anyone, so. But, little bits at a time! That sounds good. Reasonable. It’ll, you know, probably come in handy some time. Even with someone like me.” Or especially, with how things stood at the moment. “You’re the one channeling big magic, so you should probably set the pace. I’ve got that infinite stamina going for me. So I...I can take it. Whatever might happen, I can take it. I want to, if it means having more control over myself.”

With everything, Bea had good and bad days. With the woods, she had bad far more often. She controlled her face as well as she could, only hesitating for a moment. “Let me pick the spot in the forest? I’ll find something in the outskirts for us.” She would pick somewhere far from the place it happened, where even on her bad day she could hold herself together. Her first thought would be to ask Leah to help, but that could be very dangerous for the phoenix. Her sisters weren’t an option. Maybe this wasn’t as easy as she had originally thought it would be. “I could see if Kaden was willing to help.” She trusted him to behave with Morgan, but she had no idea if they were on good terms anymore. “If you are feeling comfortable with that.” That was a good point, Bea had no idea how much energy this was going to take. If it was anything like the other necromancy magic she had done, she was going to need to work her way up. “We’ll go slow, there’s no need to rush what’s going to happen. Especially as we need to get more people on board to help.”

“Of course,” Morgan said. To her shame, she only remembered how much the woods had taken from Bea when she saw the look on the woman’s face. Morgan, for her part, never lingered on the part of main street where she’d felt the sun on her back for the last time, and ice cream trucks made her feel sick and bitter. But these were small things, specific. As much as the spot where Bea died was cursed ground, for all Morgan knew, every dark cluster of trees held the shadow of her trauma. Too late now.

Morgan considered Kaden. She didn’t want him to know she was struggling. She didn’t know how much of his fear and disappointment she could bear. And would he feel guilty for helping? Would he doubt himself? Or feel as though he were betraying himself? But a hunter was a clear and obvious choice, for Bea’s safety as well as Morgan’s own. And the only other hunter Morgan trusted was dead. “It makes sense. If you think he would, and that he wouldn’t...feel wrong or bad about it, yeah. That sounds like a good idea. And you’re right about needing others, strong muscle-y others probably, but don’t know who else is left.” She met Bea’s eyes slowly, knowingly, and ached as Adam’s loss stung once again. She cleared her throat and let the spectre of his memory pass. “Later, when we’ve got the basics down, I’ll be of more help. I’ve got lots of fresh experience with my muscle strength, and fighting off people, living and undead. But, slow and steady first.” With difficulty, she summoned a smile. “Who’d have figured it would take two people like us to make a new magic discovery?”

Oh, Bea thought, Of course Morgan knows. A fragile, brittle smile made its way onto her face. As the days went on, as his loss compounded, the closer she felt to slipping away. She was teetering on a precipice, close to falling over the edge of understanding grief as other people had. Her understanding before had been abstracted at best, a twisted and strange version of an emotion that everyone around her seemed to understand better than she did. A necromancer who had faced death, danced with her, but did not comprehend her affects seemed like an oxymoron. The room was spinning, twisting around her as she tried to focus on Morgan’s words. “Oh, I don’t know it makes sense, doesn’t it?” She replied weakly, “We like pushing and figuring stuff out. We’re fixers.” Fixers in a world that could not be fixed, would not consent to be fixed. Adam had been a fixer too, it was why he was gone.

“Fixers, huh,” Morgan repeated, her own smile turning sad as well. She didn’t think of that word often except in terms of her own shame and desperation. She broke something, therefore she had to fix it. But to hear Bea say it, they were doing something better than hastily atoning; they were solving the world. Not all of it, because no one could do that. But little hurts, difficulties, problems. They knew how to seal cracks in people’s hearts and put in new supports where old ones had snapped. And it didn’t have to mean that any of it was their fault or their responsibility. Just that they happened to know how. They happened to have the strength to try. And when everything broke all over again, they would fix it again. On and on.

The future stretched out in her mind’s eye, a line of patch jobs into centuries. Nothing holding or staying for long. She wondered if Adam had ever seen the future that way, and if he ever let himself dream of a green field and a quiet existence where the only things that needed fixing were fence posts and kitchen appliances, as she often did. She didn’t know which answer was sadder.

“I guess we are,” she said quietly. “I guess somebody has to be.”

#wr bea #wr chatzy #wr bea chatzy #breaking bonds #sibling death tw #//short and v sweet

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tisfan · 4 years

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From Joe Morice, daughters in 8th & 10th grade in Fairfax County Public Schools' Centreville Pyramid:

To our fellow FCPS families—this is it gang: 5 days until the 2 days in school vs. 100% virtual decision. Let’s talk it out, in my traditional mammoth TL/DR form.

Like all of you, I’ve seen my feed become a flood of anxiety and faux expertise. You’ll get no presumption of expertise here. This is how I am looking at and considering this issue and the positions people have taken in my feed and in the hundred or so FCPS discussion groups that have popped up. The lead comments in quotes are taken directly from my feed and those boards. Sometimes I try to rationalize them. Sometimes I’m just punching back at the void.

Full disclosure, we initially chose the 2 days option and are now having serious reservations. As I consider the positions and arguments I see in my feed, these are where my mind goes. Of note, when I started working on this piece at 12:19 PM today the COVID death tally in the United States stood at 133,420.

“My kids want to go back to school.”

I challenge that position. I believe what the kids desire is more abstract. I believe what they want is a return to normalcy. They want their idea of yesterday. And yesterday isn’t on the menu.

“I want my child in school so they can socialize.”

This was the principle reason for our 2 days decision. As I think more on it though, what do we think ‘social’ will look like? There aren’t going to be any lunch table groups, any lockers, any recess games, any study halls, any sitting next to friends, any talking to people in the hallway, any dances. All of that is off the menu. So, when we say that we want the kids to benefit from the social experience, what are we deluding ourselves into thinking in-building socialization will actually look like in the Fall?

“My kid is going to be left behind.”

Left behind who? The entire country is grappling with the same issue, leaving all children in the same quagmire. Who exactly would they be behind? I believe the rhetorical answer to that is “They’ll be behind where they should be,” to which I’ll counter that “where they should be” is a fictional goal post that we as a society have taken as gospel because it maps to standardized tests which are used to grade schools and counties as they chase funding.

“Classrooms are safe.”

At the current distancing guidelines from FCPS middle and high schools would have no more than 12 people (teachers + students) in a classroom (I acknowledge this number may change as FCPS considers the Commonwealth’s 3 ft with a mask vs. 6 ft position, noting that FCPS is all mask regardless of the distance). For the purpose of this discussion we’ll say classes run 45 minutes.

I posed the following question to 40 people today, representing professional and management roles in corporations, government agencies, and military commands: “Would your company or command have a 12 person, 45 minute meeting in a conference room?”

100% of them said no, they would not. These are some of their answers:

“No. Until further notice we are on Zoom.”

“(Our company) doesn’t allow us in (company space).”

“Oh hell no.”

“No absolutely not.”

“Is there a percentage lower than zero?”

“Something of that size would be virtual.”

We do not even consider putting our office employees into the same situation we are contemplating putting our children into. And let’s drive this point home: there are instances here when commanding officers will not put soldiers, ACTUAL SOLDIERS, into the kind of indoor environment we’re contemplating for our children. For me this is as close to a ‘kill shot’ argument as there is in this entire debate. How do we work from home because buildings with recycled air are not safe, because we don’t trust other people to not spread the virus, and then with the same breath send our children into buildings?

“Children only die .0016 of the time.”

First, conceding we’re an increasingly morally bankrupt society, but when did we start talking about children’s lives, or anyone’s lives, like this? This how the villain in movies talks about mortality, usually 10-15 minutes before the good guy kills him.

If you’re in this camp, and I acknowledge that many, many people are, I’m asking you to consider that number from a slightly different angle.

FCPS has 189,000 children. .0016 of that is 302. 302 dead children are the Calvary Hill you’re erecting your argument on. So, let’s agree to do this: stop presenting this as a data point. If this is your argument, I challenge you to have courage equal to your conviction. Go ahead, plant a flag on the internet and say, “Only 302 children will die.” No one will. That’s the kind action on social media that gets you fired from your job. And I trust our social media enclave isn’t so careless and irresponsible with life that it would even, for even a millisecond, enter any of your minds to make such an argument.

Considered another way: You’re presented with a bag with 189,000 $1 bills. You’re told that in the bag are 302 random bills, they look and feel just like all the others, but each one of those bills will kill you. Do you take the money out of the bag?

Same argument, applied to the 12,487 teachers in FCPS (per Wikipedia), using the ‘children’s multiplier’ of .0016 (all of us understanding the adult mortality rate is higher). That’s 20 teachers. That’s the number you’re talking about. It’s very easy to sit behind a keyboard and diminish and dismiss the risk you’re advocating other people assume. Take a breath and think about that.

If you want to advocate for 2 days a week, look, I’m looking for someone to convince me. But please, for the love of God, drop things like this from your argument. Because the people I know who’ve said things like this, I know they’re better people than this. They’re good people under incredible stress who let things slip out as their frustration boils over. So, please do the right thing and move on from this, because one potential outcome is that one day, you’re going to have to stand in front of St. Peter and answer for this, and that’s not going to be conversation you enjoy.

“Hardly any kids get COVID.”

(Deep sigh) Yes, that is statistically true as of this writing. But it is a cherry-picked argument because you’re leaving out an important piece.

One can reasonably argue that, due to the school closures in March, children have had the least EXPOSURE to COVID. In other words, closing schools was the one pandemic mitigation action we took that worked. There can be no discussion of the rate of diagnosis within children without also acknowledging they were among our fastest and most quarantined people. Put another way, you cannot cite the effect without acknowledging the cause.

“The flu kills more people every year.”

(Deep sigh). First of all, no, it doesn’t. Per the CDC, United States flu deaths average 20,000 annually. COVID, when I start writing here today, has killed 133,420 in six months.

And when you mention the flu, do you mean the disease that, if you’re suspected of having it, everyone, literally everyone in the country tells you stay the f- away from other people? You mean the one where parents are pretty sure their kids have it but send them to school anyway because they have a meeting that day, the one that every year causes massive f-ing outbreaks in schools because schools are petri dishes and it causes kids to miss weeks of school and leaves them out of sports and band for a month? That one? Because you’re right - the flu kills people every year. It does, but you’re ignoring the why. It’s because there are people who are a--holes who don’t care about infecting other people. In that regard it’s a perfect comparison to COVID.

“Almost everyone recovers.”

You’re confusing “release from the hospital” and “no longer infected” with “recovered.” I’m fortunate to only know two people who have had COVID. One my age and one my dad’s age. The one my age described it as “absolute hell” and although no longer infected cannot breathe right. The one my dad’s age was in the hospital for 13 weeks, had to have a trach ring put in because she could no longer be on a ventilator, and upon finally getting home and being faced with incalculable time in rehab told my mother, “I wish I had died.”

While I’m making every effort to reach objectivity, on this particular point, you don’t know what the f- you’re talking about.

“If people get sick, they get sick.”

First, you mistyped. What you intended to say was “If OTHER people get sick, they get sick.” And shame on you.

“I’m not going to live my life in fear.”

You already live your life in fear. For your health, your family’s health, your job, your retirement, terrorists, extremists, one political party or the other being in power, the new neighbors, an unexpected home repair, the next sunrise. What you meant to say was, “I’m not prepared to add ANOTHER fear,” and I’ve got news for you: that ship has sailed. It’s too late. There are two kinds of people, and only two: those that admit they’re afraid, and those that are lying to themselves about it.

As to the fear argument, fear is the reason you wait up when your kids stay out late, it’s the reason you tell your kids not to dive in the shallow water, to look both ways before crossing the road. Fear is the respect for the wide world that we teach our children. Except in this instance, for reasons no one has been able to explain to me yet.

“FCPS leadership sucks.”

I will summarize my view of the School Board thusly: if the 12 of you aren’t getting into a room together because it represents a risk, don’t tell me it’s OK for our kids. I understand your arguments, that we need the 2 days option for parents who can’t work from home, kids who don’t have internet or computer access, kids who needs meals from the school system, kids who need extra support to learn, and most tragically for kids who are at greater risk of abuse by being home. All very serious, all very real issues, all heartbreaking. No argument.

But you must first lead by example. Because you’re failing when it comes to optics. All your meetings are online. What our children see is all of you on a Zoom telling them it’s OK for them to be exactly where you aren’t. I understand you’re not PR people, but you really should think about hiring some.

“I talked it over with my kids.”

Let’s put aside for a moment the concept of adults effectively deferring this decision to children, the same children who will continue to stuff things into a full trash can rather than change it out. Yes, those hygienic children.

Listen, my 15 year old daughter wants a sport car, which she’s not getting next year because it would be dangerous to her and to others. Those kinds of decisions are our job. We step in and decide as parents, we don’t let them expose themselves to risks because their still developing and screen addicted brains narrow their understanding of cause and effect.

We as parents and adults serve to make difficult decisions. Sometimes those are in the form of lessons, where we try to steer kids towards the right answer and are willing to let them make a mistake in the hopes of teaching better decision making the next time around. This is not one of those moments. The stakes are too high for that. This is a “the adults are talking” moment. Kids are not mature enough for this moment. That is not an attack on your child. It is a broad statement about all children. It is true of your children and it was true when we were children. We need to be doing that thinking here, and “Johnny wants to see Bobby at school” cannot be the prevailing element in the equation.

“The teachers need to do their job.”

How is it that the same society which abruptly shifted to virtual students only three months ago, and offered glowing endorsements of teachers stating, “we finally understand how difficult your job is,” has now shifted to “screw you, do your job.” There are myriad problems with that position but for the purposes of this piece let’s simply go with, “You’re not looking for a teacher, you’re looking for the babysitter you feel your property tax payment entitles you to.”

“Teachers have a greater chance to being killed by a car than they do of dying from COVID.”

(Eye roll) Per the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety (IIHS), the U.S. see approximately 36,000 auto fatalities a year. Again, there have been 133,420 COVID deaths in the United States through 12:09 July 10, 2020. So no, they do not have a great chance of being killed in a car accident.

And, if you want to take the actual environment into consideration, the odds of a teacher being killed in a car accident in their classroom, you know, the environment we’re actually talking about, that’s right around 0%.

“If the grocery store workers can be onsite what are the teachers afraid of?”

(Deep breath) A grocery store worker, who absolutely risks exposure, has either six feet of space or a plexiglass shield between them and individual adult customers who can grasp their own mortality whose transactions can be completed in moments, in a 40,000 SF space.

A teacher is with 11 ‘customers’ who have not an inkling what mortality is, for 45 minutes, in a 675 SF space, six times a day.

Just stop.

“Teachers are choosing remote because they don’t want to work.”

(Deep breaths) Many teachers are opting to be remote. That is not a vacation. They’re requesting to do their job at a safer site. Just like many, many people who work in buildings with recycled air have done. And likely the building you’re not going into has a newer and better serviced air system than our schools.

Of greater interest to me is the number of teachers choosing the 100% virtual option for their children. The people who spend the most time in the buildings are the same ones electing not to send their children into those buildings. That’s something I pay attention to.

“I wasn’t prepared to be a parent 24/7” and “I just need a break.”

I truly, deeply respect that honesty. Truth be told, both arguments have crossed my mind. Pre COVID, I routinely worked from home 1 – 2 days a week. The solace was nice. When I was in the office, I had an actual office, a room with a door I could close, where I could focus. During the quarantine that hasn’t always been the case. I’ve been frustrated, I’ve been short, I’ve gone to just take a drive and get the hell away for a moment and been disgusted when one of the kids sees me and asks me to come for a ride, robbing me of those minutes of silence. You want to hear silence. I get it. I really, really do.

Here’s another version of that, admittedly extreme. What if one of our kids becomes one of the 302? What’s that silence going to sound like? What if you have one of those matted frames where you add the kid’s school picture every year? What if you don’t get to finish the pictures?

“What does your gut tell you to do?”

Shawn and I have talked ad infinitum about all of these and other points. Two days ago, at mid-discussion I said, “Stop, right now, gut answer, what is it,” and we both said, “virtual.”

A lot of the arguments I hear people making for the 2 days sound like we’re trying to talk ourselves into ignoring our instincts, they are almost exclusively, “We’re doing 2 days, but…”. There’s a fantastic book by Gavin de Becker, The Gift of Fear, which I’ll minimize for you thusly: your gut instinct is a hardwired part of your brain and you should listen to it. In the introduction he talks about elevators, and how, of all living things, humans are the only ones that would voluntarily get into a soundproof steel box with a potential predator just so they could skip a flight of stairs.

I keep thinking that the 2 days option is the soundproof steel box. I welcome, damn, beg, anyone to convince me otherwise.

At the time I started writing at 12:09 PM, 133,420 Americans had died from COVID. Upon completing this draft at 7:04 PM, that number rose to 133,940.

520 Americans died of COVID while I was working on this. In seven hours.

The length of a school day.

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miracle-sham · 4 years

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When Sitting on the Roof, We are but Coffee Sleuths.

| {Sequel to Death is the Stage, My Art is Your Grave.} |

| {Repost due to original post disappearing from tags.} |

| Triggers/Warnings: Mentions of drugs/drug ring (in regards to a case), Mild language. |

| After a long day of boring casework, there's nothing better than getting a new commission, and then drinking coffee and having a chat on top of a roof with a certain bat. |

| Word Count: 3051 |

==–==

| A/N: First of all, I'd like to quickly thank everyone for all the positive response and support the original oneshot got on both Tumblr and Ao3! It really motivated and inspired me to continue with this Au (expect at least another sequel, maybe more if I get more inspo but even if I don't there's definitely gonna be one sequel minimum to this). I'd also like to mention, that this took a lot longer to write as I got a cold halfway through writing it and also it's romance based fluff (which is not my forté), but thanks to those who've waited for this! And finally, for reasons that I'll explain in a separate post later, it might be a "little" while before I can start work on the sequel to this one but it will get written at some point. |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics, or a specific Au, then send me a DM or an ask! |

| Also side note, Don't Like? Don't Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

==–==

It's been a month since Marinette got kidnapped, kissed Red Robin, and solved the Elemental Park Serial Killer case. For three weeks she's been held off active duty to make sure her bruised ribs heal but now that she's able to be on active duty again, all the available cases are those that are paperwork heavy. A small part of her misses the immediate healing of the Miraculous Cure but she's not Ladybug anymore and even if she was, it would raise too many flags for her to even use it anyway. But logic doesn't stop her from missing the days when she could literally and metaphorically magic away her aches and pains.

Marinette groans and slumps into her chair, it's been a surprisingly slow day at the GCPD, so when her phone beeps rapidly for a few seconds, she thinks, please be something interesting, and can't help but take a quick glance to see what new notifications she has. The screen reads: '3 new messages from Red'. So she taps the notification and reads through each message.

>RedRob: Hey, found some new evidence on our case, want to meet up for coffee to discuss it?

>RedRob: Rooftop coffee after dark, of course.

>RedRob: I mean I could waltz into a coffee shop during the day in my suit but that might get too much attention for case talk.

Marinette snickers to herself as she reads the messages over a second time. She quickly taps out her response.

>MariBlue: Will we need to worry about one of the other Gotham vigilantes crashing our coffee not-date?

Almost instantly she receives a response.

>RedRob: I'll bribe Oracle or Batgirl, maybe even Black Bat, into keeping the others away.

She sends a heart emoji back, then returns to sorting out her boring paperwork.

Detective Grayson raises an eyebrow at her from over the desk, clearly having caught her looking at her phone. “Red Robin again?”

She flashes him a sheepish grin. “How'd you guess.”

He gives her a deadpan stare. “He's the only person you respond to when working.”

Marinette bites her lip. “Whoops, that obvious?”

“Yes.” Detective Grayson hesitates for a second, he leans in closer—and like a teenage girl at a sleepover in a cheesy teen drama, asks, “So are you dating yet?”

She shrugs. “Well neither of us have asked the other so not really.”

“But you guys are perfect for each other!” He exclaims, gesturing towards her with an outstretched arm—very narrowly avoiding knocking anything off the desk.

It's Marinette's turn to raise an eyebrow. “We literally have only seen or talked to each other when working…”

“So? What do you call you quote unquote "not-dates"” He huffs, making air quotes as he speaks.

She huffs and shakes her head. “There's a reason they're called "not-dates" and that's because we discuss work at them. And anyway it's too early to rush our relationship.”

“Fair.” Detective Grayson stills, frowns and then almost hesitantly, he asks, “Is it because if the mask? The whole not knowing his real identity?”

Marinette rolls her eyes and shakes her head again. “Nope, I couldn't care less about finding out his real identity—at least not without his consent that is.”

He hums, a pensive look on his face. “So you're not curious?”

She shrugs. “Not particularly, why?”

Detective Grayson shrugs back. “Just wondering,” he leans back on his chair and for a split second, Marinette fears he might topple over but somehow he seems unaffected by gravity, “I think you're the first person I've met, who doesn't want to know who's behind a vigilante's mask.”

A smile tugs at Marinette's lips. “I think it's kinda dumb that so many people are obsessed with the people behind the masks because if they're doing good, unmasking them will only deter them from continuing fighting the good fight and all that, y'know.”

He nods slowly, “huh, that's one way of putting it I guess but I agree, the vigilantes do more for this city than people think they do.” Detective Grayson then tilts his head towards the Commissioner's office. “Anyway back to work, don't want to get in more trouble with the Commish than we are already!”

Marinette huffs in amusement and rolls her eyes but complies nonetheless. Wouldn't do to get in trouble so soon after getting back onto active duty!

==–==

It isn't until gone seven pm, that Marinette finally gets home. She slips through the door, locking it behind her. Now that she's in, the first thing she does, as she does every day, is check her online portfolio and commission site.

Marinette plops herself down in her wheely chair and logs onto to her computer, going through all the verification and security Max had kindly added. A new commission notification grabs her attention. With three clicks, she brings up the new commission's details. She scrolls down to the name of the commissioner: one Mr 'T. Drake-Wayne'.

Curious as to why the name sounds vaguely familiar, Marinette opens up a tab on Google with a hum and types in the name. Upon reading the top results, she half chokes in shock and thinks to herself, Are you kidding me? She blinks and breathes in, a small part of her very glad she wasn't drinking anything otherwise she definitely would've fully choked on that or spat it all up from the shock. I know a bunch of well-known celebrities have all commissioned me many times before, but still why the heck is a fortune 500 CEO commissioning me? I'm not Audrey Bourgeois, Gabriel Agreste, or even Valen-hecking-tino. I do celebrities, not fortune 500. The heck. What. The. Actual. Heck.

Eyes wide and gobsmacked, Marinette shakes her head and clicks back to her latest commission's details page to read through the actual commission. After reading the first line, she scrambles for her sketchbook and begins jotting down notes and scribbling down ideas.

Half an hour in, Marinette takes a break to sort out and eat dinner, no point designing on an empty stomach but once she's done eating and washed up, she goes straight back to designing.

Even at a quarter past midnight, she's still at it—surprisingly only three drafts in and so thoroughly lost in her own head in designing, Marinette nearly misses the knocking against her window facing the fire escape.

The rapid rap-tap-tap spooks her so much that she falls out of her chair with an “Eep!”

Marinette, face flushing bright red, scrambles up and scurries over to the window in question. Shoving her blinds out the way, she stares through the window and is greeted with the absolutely glorious sight of a beaming and uninjured Red Robin holding two takeaway coffee cups on the fire escape. He waves at her with one hand and gestures for her to join him on the fire escape.

She can't help but grin back at him and deftly opens the window and slinks out onto the fire escape. He hands a coffee cup towards her and instead of taking it, Marinette gives him a good ol' bearhug—smooshing pressing her face into his Kevlar armoured chest. Which is unsurprisingly, very uncomfortable. She shifts her head to stare up at him (as he's at least whole head taller than her) “Hey,” she greets.

Awkwardly hugging her back, as to not spill either of the coffees in the process, “hey yourself,” Red Robin responds, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

Marinette pulls back from the hug and nabs the coffee cup that had been offered to her before their hug. “Thank you~!”

“No problem.” He then gestures towards the fire escape stairs leading to the roof, “after you.”

“So which of our cases did you manage to get a lead for?” She asks, making her way up to the roof.

“The one pertaining to the new drug ring in the fashion district. I've narrowed down where they're storing the drugs to potentially three warehouses near Miller Harbour.” Red Robin answers, following after her.

Reaching the roof, Marinette sits down on the half wall around the roof edge. She glances over at Red Robin as he joins her on the improvised seat. “That's the drug ring dealing Miraclo right?”

“Yeah, that's the one.” He pauses to take a sip of his coffee, “I got the intel from an old friend of Catwoman's called Mackey lives in an apartment that overlooks the Harbour and saw a shipment of the drug arrive at the warehouses.”

Taking a sip of her own coffee, Marinette raises an eyebrow. “And will Detective Grayson and I will be able to get that intel as witness statement?”

Red Robin nods. “Yep, Catwoman's vouching for you both.”

She jerks back in surprise, nearly toppling off the half wall but managing to cling to the edge in time to keep her from falling. Miraculously somehow managing to avoid dropping or spilling her coffee. Oof, if it wasn't for my stint in Spandex I definitely would've made a fool of myself in front of Red Robin. And here I thought that part of my life had since passed. Marinette thinks to herself, wincing at the newly gained superficial graze across her palms. She clears her throat and attempts to look like she didn't just nearly fall off a half wall. “Catwoman's vouching for us? Since when? I've literally never encountered her before.”

Red Robin, the traitor, snorts at her predicament. “You are the epitome of elegance. And Detective Grayson's bumped into her a few times on the job.”

“Thanks.” She responds drily, layering on the sarcasm thickly. She shakes her head and sighs. “So do you know what the addresses are for the warehouses and this Mackey's apartment?”

He takes an excruciatingly slow sip of his coffee before speaking. “Of course I can, what kind of vigilante do you take me for?” He then proceeds to rattle off the addresses.

Which Marinette jots down on the napkin that came with her coffee, and puts it into a pocket for safekeeping. “Thank you.” With it written down, she pauses then starts kicking her legs in the air. She sniffs. “And I take you for the kind that flirts with innocent police officers.”

Red Robin grins at her as he gently elbows her in the ribs. “I don't hear you complaining.”

Marinette scoffs and slaps her hand to her chest in an overly dramatic mock of shock. “Unfair! If I complained I wouldn't get any hugs or kisses from you!”

Humming he wraps an arm around her shoulders and presses a kiss to her temple. “That's true, what a shame it would be for you to miss out on all those hugs.”

She hums back and the two ease into a comfortable silence; leaning against each other and sipping their coffees whilst staring at the night sky.

Once Marinette gets halfway through her coffee, she glances at Red Robin and hesitates, her earlier conversation with Detective Grayson springing to mind. “Communication is key in healthy relationships,” she prefaces, “so are you okay with our current relationship? Y'know the flirting, the not-dates, the whole me not knowing your identity?”

Red Robin laughs, sounding slightly bitter. “Of course I'm fine with the flirting and not-dates but I'm not going to lie and say I don't have any worries over you not knowing my identity. It's one of the reasons a relationship I had with a fellow mask didn't work out.” Rubbing at his jaw, he tilts his face away from her slightly, as though reminiscing about something. He then shakes his head and turns back to her. “Really, I ought to be asking you that. So what about you, are you okay with how our relationship is?”

Marinette hums. “This isn't the first time relationship I've had with a masked hero.” Then takes a calm sip of her coffee.

“So you've got a thing for masks then huh? Lucky me I guess.” He responds, smirking mischievously, and whilst she can't see the rest of his face thanks to the cowl, Marinette just knows that he's wiggling his eyebrows at her from underneath that cowl.

His comment nearly sends her tumbling off the half wall—again. She coughs and splutters in laughter as she nearly spits up her sip of coffee. It takes her a full thirty seconds to recover and mock gripes, “remind me why I love you again.”

Red Robin cocks his head to the side and grins. “Because I bring you coffee?”

She huffs, “good point.”

“So back to the mask thing, can I ask what happened with your masked hero relationship?” He asks, tone hesitant. He stares at her, ready to back off the topic at the slightest sign of discomfort from her.

Marinette hisses through her teeth and states, “I can trust you.”

His stare conveys an 'I would hope so' whilst he bobs his head a little in a 'yes you can' and a 'please continue' gesture.

She takes a deep breath before speaking, “I used to be a hero, back when I lived in Paris.”

“Oh?” Red Robin freezes, thrown off guard by her admission.

Nodding, Marinette continues. “It was difficult. We started when we were barely teens and had no training and no support except for temporary heroes we could bring in when the battles got too hard for just me and my partner to handle. When we started, we were repeatedly told to never, under any circumstances, let anyone find out our identities. My partner and I, neither of us knew who the other was beneath the mask. And we only knew the identities of the temporary heroes because we gave them the ability to become superheroes. But even then we didn't always know their real identities and they certainly never knew ours.”

“Yikes.” Is all he can respond with, mind racing with questions. “That can't have been good, at least I had Batman and Nightwing when I was starting out, but you had no one to talk to about being a mask, outside the mask.”

She flashes him a watery smile and sighs. “No, I did have someone. Tikki. But we're uh, not in contact any more. Since I retired.”

Still, Red Robin makes a noise of concern at that.

“Anyway, one thing led to another led to another, and my partner found out my identity.” Marinette puts her coffee down then tips her head back and closes her eyes. “We started dating not long after that. But once we defeated the BBEG terrorising Paris and some… concerning things came to light, our—we,” She shakes her head, “we realised that because of that, neither of us were emotionally able to continue our relationship in a romantic way. So we decided to stay friends and I—uh, I retired and moved to Gotham.”

He puts his coffee down as well, and pulls her into a tight hug, although making sure it wasn't too constricting as to not make her uncomfortable. “I'm sorry.”

She leans into the hug, rests her head on his shoulder, and delicately wraps her arms around him in return. “What? Why? It's not your fault.”

Red Robin frowns, not that she can see in their current position, “I know but no one should be forced into becoming a hero at such a young age with no support network.”

Huffing, Marinette buries her face in his shoulder, somewhat muffling her voice but not enough to make her unintelligible, “what about Spoiler? She became a hero around that age and had no support network.”

He sighs. “Spoiler chose to become a vigilante, she wasn't forced. And anyway, she had Robin and the rest of the bats to support her once they realised what she was doing.”

“Hmm… fair.” Marinette pulls back from the hug and pauses. “On a lighter note, I got a commission on my fashion site from Tim Drake-Wayne!”

Red Robin raises an eyebrow and with poorly concealed amusement, responds, “Oh? And what's so special about him”

She rolls her eyes at him. “He's the youngest fortune five hundred CEO, founded the Neon Knights among other charities, and often donates to various charities around Gotham! Plus Wayne Enterprises is one of, if not the most ethical company in the fortune five hundred bracket. Employees get living stipends, and training and higher education paid by the company. They get healthcare and dental insurance. They get flexible work hours, paid breaks, and receive above minimum wage pay!”

He laughs. “I guess he is a pretty decent sounding guy then.”

“Mhmm.”

“So what's the commission then? Or is it a secret?” He teases, leaning towards her.

Marinette dramatically places her hand over her heart. “I guess I can spare you the details this one time.”

“Wooh!”

She bites her lip before launching into a long ramble about the commission, gushing over what design and colour palette she's thinking of going with, what bots and bobs and patterns to add, what stitch to use and how to make sure it fits his style, etc.

Red Robin spends the entire time listening attentively, despite not really understanding half the fashion terms, and staring at her like a love-struck puppy.

“Damn, I love you!” He exclaims once she finishes speaking, then leans in to kiss her on the lips.

Marinette bursts into giggles and kisses him back. Her giggles are seemingly infectious, as once they part from the kiss, both are giggling and flushed red.

A bright flash of white followed by a camera shutter sound immediately distracts them both. They just manage to catch sight of Nightwing swinging away.

She gives him a look, which is somewhat less effective as she's still smiling from the kiss. “What happened to bribing Oracle, Black Bat, or Batgirl?”

Red Robin groans and drops his face into his hands. “Clearly Nightwing was able to one-up my bribe. Probably in the form of giving them copies of the photos both he and Detective Grayson have taken.”

“You mean to tell me those two are working together? No wonder Detective Grayson was asking about our relationship earlier today at work!” Marinette gasps, sounding mildly horrified and betrayed.

“Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” Red Robin asks, lifting his head up and grinning deviously at her.

She smirks back, “Revenge?”

He nods—the sagely kind of nod. “Revenge.”

==–==

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

@casual-darkness

#Miraculous Ladybug #ML x DC #DC x MLB #Maribat #Timinette #MariTim #Timari #Marinette x Tim #Tim x Marinette #Death is the Stage My Art is Your Grave #DitSMAiYG #DitSMAiYG Sequel #When Sitting on the Roof We are but Coffee Sleuths #WSotRWabCS #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

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wanna-b-poet31 · 5 years

Text

Aziraphale’s Lies and Crowley’s Truth (A 3-Part Series) Part 3: Liminal Spaces, Happy Faces

A final installment of a series I started!! Will wonders ever cease? >tbh I want to preemptively start this final installment saying that I’ve been staring at the word doc for a solid 3 months trying to will the right words to come to me... let’s hope these are good ones?< #sorrynotsorry for the delay

Honestly, I could do a whole other series about why Crowley is fallen and Aziraphale is not. However, I wanted to refocus this series on my central argument that honesty (or lack thereof) is a strategic tool for establishing their in-between status...their humanity, as it were.

To grossly summarize parts 1 and 2 (but no seriously check them out) Crowley can lie, he’s actually pretty slippery but he chooses to be honest and forthright with Aziraphale on purpose. Meanwhile, Aziraphale wields his lies like his sword, trying to protect the two of them from Heaven’s wrath.

The problem is, when Crowley is so heartbreakingly honest, like genuinely, unapologetically honest, to Aziraphale, he leaves both of them vulnerable. Without the security Heaven claims to provide him, Aziraphale panics, is afraid that revealing his hand -- that he feels for Crowley, wants to go to Alpha Centauri with Crowley -- will put both of them in danger. So, he does what he does best, he lies, cutting both of them. They fall out of sync, they’re set up for failure, they’re not on the same page, and ultimately they’ can’t occupy the same space or same side.

See Aziraphale’s face here? [a gif where Aziraphale is shouting at Crowley that “We’re on opposite sides”] The tone of voice? The desperation in his face? It’s clear that he’s lying, and it’s detrimental.

BUT when Aziraphale (and it has to be Aziraphale) realizes he’s miscalculated his lies, realizes that his position is not protecting Crowley (or the earth), but realizes that he IS, and perhaps has always needed to be, on Crowley’s side, the true nature of Heaven is revealed (to him).

Once they are reunited, their lies are weaponized, their honesty is protective, and they create a new space for themselves and humanity to exist. They don’t fit in Heaven or Hell or even in a garden. In a very real way, they become more human once the realize the impact of their actions and the weight of their choices.

No, I don’t mean I literally think they’re human now, they’re as magical as ever. But by the end of the series, they DO become a new kind of hybrid, occupying the same liminal space between holy and hellish that humans do. And the evolution of their honesty and lies -- their supposed “flaws” -- enable them to form their own side.

It allows them the freedom of choices.

ANGELS OF LIES

I think it’s important to point out that Aziraphale isn’t the only lying angel.

All of them lie. Often.

Examples:

We first see the lies appear when Gabriel praises Aziraphale for trying to “turn” Warlock to the good side. It becomes evident that by the end of the series, the angels never had any intention of stopping the war.

We see Michael lie (by omission) when she shows Gabriel the photos of our ineffable duo. She neglects to mention that she got them from Ligur.

The only true difference is the target of their lies and the fact that they all justify their actions under the flag of dogmatic loyalty and their presumed “goodness”. None of the other angels ever quite question their own actions. They simply “do” in the name of the Lord. Their prophecy of a great war drives each of their actions, and each reads it as an immutable fact.

While the vague nature of the prophecy allows them some wiggle room (like Michael conspiring with Ligur, and Gabriel with Beelzebub) to behave and build an ineffable bureaucracy around it, at the end of the day, none of them act like there is even a choice. They presume their destiny has been solidified.

Looking at Gabriel’s insistence that “Wars are not meant to be avoided, they're meant to be won” demonstrates, at least on some level, he firmly believes that angels are predestined to fight, to win, and to crush demons under his shoes. There is no question in his mind then, no wayward thought asking “should we do this” or “is this right”, he simply is following “orders”. There is the implicit belief then, that “to war or not to war” is not “find the solution with the least harm” but rather a really toxic “win or die” mentality. Any dissent, in this framework, must be squashed.

Any dissent...like Aziraphale.

In the GIF above, when Aziraphale asserts that the angels have a choice, “there doesn’t have to be a war.” Look at the condescending posture and the fake smile. His response “Of course there does, otherwise, how would we win it?” speaks volumes to how he sees the situation. There is no choice for him, not necessarily because he doesn’t see there’s no choice, but because the alternative would be losing, and Angels don’t lose.

There’s a real danger for Aziraphale at this moment, although he has been conditioned not to see it. If he is honest to Gabriel, the way Crowley needs him to be as a partner, for posing the question, for insisting that there is a third option. This moment of honesty after several bald-faced lies makes Aziraphale very vulnerable to retaliation. Retaliation, mind you, that we DO see him endure (a la Sandalphon).

THE DEMON IS IN THE DETAILS

Similarly, the demons show that they believe this is their chance to overcome Heaven. That there is no choice on whether or not they will fight, because the choice has been made for them. They must fight. The only question is if they will win. Like the Angels there is no question if they can fight or not, they simply must, and everyone is vying for a role in the destruction.

Interestingly though, while Ligur and Hastur condescend “what is the world coming to if Demons started trusted Demons”, we also see an honesty streak.

Hastur, in particular, is oddly a beacon of honesty, but particularly gullible. Yeah, he’s malicious (we see him burn down the church, threaten Crowley, and kill another demon) but we don’t really see him lie... do we see him lie? Sure he’s wrong a lot, but he’s not good at lying like Crowley is, nor prone to it like Aziraphale is.

For example, we see him openly and honestly communicate with Ligur while they’re sulking, waiting for Crowley to show up. Sure, he’s wrong about what “Caio” means, but is it a lie? It seems more like his arrogance of Italian, transliterating it to an English word than an actual lie.

The closest lie I can think about is when he’s disguised himself to capture Crowley. He doesn’t even lie when he’s reading out Crowley’s crimes to the audience.

Instead, we actually see that he’s actually surprised by Crowley’s lies. As much as he claims not to trust other Demons, when he’s actively pursuing Crowley and Ligur is killed, for a split second, Hastur looks like he believes Crowley’s lie that “the Dark Council” is testing him.

This seems to put extra emphasis on Crowley’s ability to lie but not be unnecessarily cruel (whereas Hastur is cruel but doesn’t lie). Or that choosing to lie to Hell, for the sake of Aziraphale and himself, is paramount.

Crowley, in contrast to Aziraphale, realizes this “must and at no point tries to be honest with Hell. He’s smooth, he’s suave (at least he tries to be) he tries to get out of it, flatly stating that his own role in it (delivering the anti-christ) is not his scene. Then, he tries to stop the end of the world, he convinces Aziraphale it’s needed, gives him the pretext to make that third option a reality, and actively refuses the dichotomy of their bosses.

It’s not until Aziraphale is fully out of the picture (read: presumed dead) that Crowley gives up, that he succumbs to the idea that it really is hopeless. Which, I will come back to.

HUMANITY’S VIRTUE

Meanwhile, humans don’t take well to black/white dichotomies. They neither are heaven incarnate nor hell incarnate. They simply are human. And that means they have choices.

This manifests a few different ways in the series, but first, let’s look specifically at the dynamic between our “predestined” Anathema and our “what the actual fuck is happening right now” Newt.

Anathema (in the series) is pretty much trained in the ways of reading and interpreting Agnes Nutter’s prophecies. She has trained every moment since she was a child in the ways of occult studies and believes to a fault that she has no choice. The clearest example is how she doesn’t (really) choose to sleep with Newt because she liked him, or knew him, or seemed to care at all about his feeling on the matter, but because it was foretold. There is no real sense of choice.

Now, it seemed to have worked out, with them happily ending, but it’s “happiness” balances upon the fact that with Newt’s support, Anathema CHOOSES to reject the predestined nature of being a descendant. While I’m sure Aziraphale weeps over the loss of more accurate prophesies from Agnes Nutter, her decision to burn the second book is crucial not only to her sense of self but to the core message of what it means to be human. To have choices.

Then, there’s Adam, the adversary... >incredibly long title/name<. His friend’s support allows him to make the choices he wants to make, and be proactive with his powers. Aziraphale says it best when he says he feared Adam would be Hell incarnate but hoped he would be Heaven incarnate, but he’s neither, and that’s a GOOD thing.

“An Ineffable Game of Own Creation”

But why go through all of this in an Honesty series?

Consider, for a moment, this phrase “God does not play games with the Universe”. It’s a phrase that nicely bookends the series, appearing prominently in the first few minutes of episode one, and again after Adam and his friends have bested War, Famine, Pollution, and Death. But, what does its appearance mean, if anything?

Choice.

This (book/tv) series is really predicated upon choice. And, consequently the presumed lack thereof our characters have. Again and again, we are shown that the Angels, the demons, Anathema, and even God herself, repeat the idea that “God is not guessing” or “we make no real choices”.

But Adam, Crowley, and Aziraphale reject this notion and actively create an alternative.

Adam rejects his destiny, he rejects his demonic father and chooses to leave the garden (versus the original Adam and Even who were shunned, cast out, and really isn’t that a traumatizing experience in itself?) because he chooses to be human.

But Adam is Human (at least now) how is this relevant to the ineffable duo? Two unquestionably supernatural entities?

Well, Crowley is as far as I can tell upon my 6,000th review of the series, has the series’ best ability to lie, even though few of his demon counterparts do. We’ll chalk it up to his imagination, but with this great power to deceive, he actively chooses to trust Aziraphale, to be honest, even if he’s hurt in the process.

Aziraphale meanwhile is a shit liar, especially compared to Crowley’s and the other Angel’s abilities. But he is a defensive one. He needs to protect himself, then Crowley, then humanity, but he can’t do that until he chooses to occupy the liminal space between Heaven and Hell.

But they can’t do this alone.

This “third” option that they’re carving out for themselves requires them to be blunt and honest and defensively protective of each other. This is why, when Crowley is in the bar, convinced Aziraphale is dead, he breaks down. Without Aziraphale, this third option is unobtainable because there is no one else who could share the space with him. There would be, nobody to love, as it were.

This is also why (I think) the lies from Metatron breaks Aziraphale. If it’s clear, even for an instant, that no one on his “side” is willing to consider an alternative option, an option that would spare demons, then he wants no part of that option. He flatly refuses to fight in a war that would mean the destruction of Crowley and tells the quartermaster as much in his epic swan dive out of Heaven.

This new space is distinctly not human in the literal sense (neither of them is human), but it’s also not heavenly or hellish. It’s a space for them to leave the garden, to continue to be who they are, fight for what they love and feel safe knowing they are a team (romantic or otherwise).

A third space is really what Crowley and Aziraphale have been working for since day one because no other force will consider that maybe, just maybe, there are alternatives to the good/bad, angel/demon, live/death dichotomies Heaven and Hell create for themselves. It is the place that Aziraphale will lie to protect, and Crowley will honestly confront if it means they are finally going the same speed, together.

TLDR: The way that honesty and lies work in this series allows for Crowley and Aziraphale to “break free” as it were and create a space for themselves to exist.

Thanks for coming to my TedTalk

#good omens #Ineffable Husbands #good omens meta #Aziraphale #crowley #anthony janthony crowley #gomens #gomens meta #in this essay I will #thanks for coming to my tedtalk #good omens honesty #good omens lies #meta #please give me feedback #i take constructive criticism #someone give them a hug

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fernwehbookworm · 4 years

Text

Haunted- Chapter 6

Lena feels giddy with her first bite of food. Solid food. Because she is solid again. The warm tomato sauce bursts across her tongue, mixing with the garlicky crust and earthy flavor of mushrooms. A tomato slice pulls off with the melted cheese and Lena moans into the bite. Kara laughs from across the table in the rundown pizza place tucked into a forgotten alleyway. It was the best pizza Lena had ever had, living up to Kara’s claims. The pizzeria sold by the slice or the pie, Lena getting the former, Kara ordering the later. Which didn’t surprise Lena at all, after practically being by her side for a week. The Pizzeria was also open twenty-four hours a day, which was great for the starving CEO at 5 am.

Lena wipes at her lip self consciously as she notices Kara staring. “What?” Lena asks.

“Nothing, just still can’t believe you are actually here.”

“You’re telling me.” Lena laughs, “I was very worried when you went to your sister’s. I didn’t think I would ever be able to reach you.”

“Hey, I was freaked out. But we are here now.”

“Yes, we are.” Lena smiles softly. “Does this count as our first date?”

“Only if that means we get a second. This isn’t what I was thinking when I asked you out. I planned on roses and candles and probably some cheap champagne.”

“I think this is perfect.” Lena takes another bite and chews quickly before continuing. “Everyone always wants to woo me. To give me fancy things and impress me with money. This,” Lena gestures with her slice around the dimly lit pizza parlor, “This is wonderful.”

“Good, because I am far from fancy.” Kara smiles, a blush coloring her cheeks as she and Lena lock eyes. Kara only looks away when her phone rings.

“It’s Alex. Hold on,” Kara says and Lena nods. “Hey, Al. Any news? Okay, great. Yes, I’m sure she will want to be there. Thanks. See you soon.”

“Well?” Lena asks as Kara hangs up.

“They will have the warrant within the hour. They have enough to seize records, thanks to you. The team is gearing up to arrest Max Lord. I figured you would want to see that.”

“See it? I want to be a part of it. Come on.” Lena stands and takes one last bite of her slice and drops a large bill on the table. Kara scrambles to follow after Lena with her pizza box.

“Where are we going?” Kara asks through a mouthful of triple meat pizza.

“Lord Tech, of course. I need to talk to Max himself, plus he’ll need to be distracted. Otherwise, once he catches a whiff of the feds, he will disappear.”

“So what's your plan?” Kara asks.

“To go rub it in his face that I am not actually dead and then keep him talking until your sister busts down his door and cuffs him.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a plan. How are you getting in?”

“Oh honey, I’m a Luthor. I can get in anywhere.”

Lena flags down a cab and Kara climbs in the back seat with Lena, continuing to eat her pizza. Kara offers Lena a slice but Lean declines. Kara just shrugs and hums happily as she finishes the last three before they get out in front of Lord Tech. Lena straightens to her full height, gathering an air about her that directly contradicts the sweats she had put on to replace the lab clothing she had been trapped in, collected and held for testing, of course. The MIT sweatshirt even covers most of her hands and Kara has tried very hard not to be distracted by that fact.

Lena strides into the building like she owns it, not even stopping as a confused security guard calls out for her to but then choking off their commands as they realize that a ghost has entered the building. Kara trails behind, unwilling to let Lena out of her sight now that she isn’t at risk of losing her.

The elevator is quite as Lena begins to set up the chess pieces in her mind. She is thinking through the moves Max and she had been playing for since taking over for Lex. She will play him like a fiddle until the FBI shows up. Lena smirks at the thought.

“So… this is my most interesting first date. Saving my date from completely disappearing, pizza, and now an arrest. I don’t think I can ever top this.” Kara breaks the silence and into Lena’s thoughts.

Lena laughs. “Yeah, it is pretty memorable. You are pretty memberal.” “And you are very pretty.” Kara grins, cheeks stretching with the width of it. Lena laughs again and that is all Kara wants to hear. It is a great laugh.

“I have a feeling that the two of us working together will be a great thing,” Lena says honestly.

“Me too, but we can still go on a second date right? This isn’t going to be one of those situations that you don’t date people you work with, right?”

“I just don’t date people who work for me. Not with me. The better the chemistry, the better the result.” Lena winks. Kara is saved from stuttering out a response when the elevator doors open and Lena strides out. The CEO is no doubt on a mission. Kara is just along for the ride as the powerful woman tears a warpath past upper-level executive offices and makes her way to the giant doors clearly installed to stroke Max’s ego, his initials inlaid in gold, taking up the entire floor to ceiling doors.

Ignoring the stuttering secretary, Lena pushes the doors open and sweeps into the room. Kara mumbles an apology to the woman before brushing past also. Max stands quickly at the intrusion from behind his desk. Lena suppresses a chuckle. Max gathers himself and straightens his tie.

“L-Lena Luthor. What are- How are you not—”

“Dead? Yes, it seems like it was quite a misunderstanding.” Lena makes her way to the wet bar and pours herself a drink. “Want anything Kara? Max here only stocks the best whisky. It’s really his only redeeming quality.”

“Oh, umm, no thank you. Whisky isn’t really my thing.” Kara decides to hang towards the door.

“And who is this?” Max asks, noticing Kara only after Lena drew attention to her.

“Oh, the reporter who saved my life after my lab accident. She really is quite brilliant. And her story on my death will be printed in the morning, and then her story on my resurrection will be printed the day after. But I am sure, her article on your arrest will earn her awards.”

“My arrest?” Max repeats, indignantly.

“Why yes. You see, Max, you slipped up. You got sloppy and greedy while I waited for the opportunity to strike. I—” Lena is interrupted by Max’s phone ringing.” Don’t you need to get that? Could be important.”

“No, I am much more interested in how I might be arrested. You and I both know that I am too careful.”

“Oh, you used to be. But I think you have grown careless in your own age. Also without Lex protecting you and holding your hand, you got in over your head. I mean, really, trying to kill me when you were literally the only one who knew my plans had changed. That was just idiotic. And then, your man didn’t even do it right. He left it up to chance. An experiment gone wrong. Granted, it was almost clean. You almost got away with it, you just didn’t count on such a connection between me and a stranger.”

“What are you even talking about?” Max seems to be reigning his composure after his initial surprise.

“Are we really going to play this game?” Lena sighs after taking a drink and sets her glass down, purposefully next to the coaster. “Fine. I know Max. You sent in a sloppy assassin to kill me after I told you I couldn’t make our meeting because I was stuck in the lab. He just changed the settings on my matter transporter and it didn’t kill me. Instead, I was stuck in a state in between being molecularly solid and being separated. Luckily, I was able to anchor myself to my favorite pen and then communicate with Miss Danvers here,” Lena pauses to point to Kara, who wiggles her fingers in an awkward wave, “And she was able to reverse the conditions to bring me back.”

“And what proof do you have of all this pseudoscience you claim to be happening?”

“Oh not much on the actual science yet, but the assassin and your shady dealings, plenty.”

Max smirks. “That seems unlikely. Why else would you be here? You are just trying to scare me into confessing something that is untrue.”

“Oh, no. I’m just here to watch.”

“Watch? Watch what?”

A commotion sounds in the hallway and heavy footsteps thunder towards them. Kara moves away from the door and urges Lena to the side of the room as Max’s eyes go wide and fix on the closed office doors.

“Watch you be dragged away kicking and screaming,” Lena smirks as the doors burst open jackbooted, FBI swat troops storm in. The women raise their hands but are completely ignored as the agents surround Max Lord.

Agent Danvers strides into the room and begins reading out the arrest warrant and Max’s rights. She pauses briefly to salute Lena silently before shoving Max out the door.

Kara is busy watching her sister and doesn’t notice Lena dialing her phone.

“Yes, Jess? Dump our stock in Lord Tech. I have a feeling it’s about to tank. And anything of L-Corp buy up. I'm about to rise from the dead."

A couple of agents stay back to escort Kara and Lena from the building. By the time the reporter and CEO make it to the lobby, a massive crowd has gathered out the doors and Max Lord is struggling as he is pushed through the crowd. He bites comments at the reporters, jerking his head side to side, much like a muzzled dog on a leash. Lights flash like fireworks and Lena holds back, slowing to a stop just short of the doors.

"You should probably wait. This will be a mess." Lena says softly, taking a moment to actually look Kara in the eye.

Kara smiles softly, "Hey, we've made it this far together. I'm seeing this through with you."

Lena seems to deflate with relief to not have to face the mob alone. Then she takes a deep breath to build herself back up. One of the agents opens the door for them, the other leading the way with the first following behind the two women. It takes a moment for the press to turn from where Max Lord was loaded into a government SUV and to turn to look upon the newcomers. Kara could have sworn she could hear a pin drop in that second. But it would have been lost in the next as the reporters scramble to get a good look.

More agents force themselves between the crowd and the CEO, forming a small circle to give her room. Lena ignores all questions and waits for the chaos to die down as she levels a glare over the crowd. Soon just the flashing of lights and shuffle of feet fill the air.

"Now, I realize you have many questions. I will not answer most of them, the exclusive will be going to Catco because, with their reporter's help, I was able to contact the FBI and help provide information for them to arrest Max Lord. As you can see, I, Lena Luthor, am not dead. Nor was I ever. I sincerely apologize for the multiple power outages and L-Corp will be working to help those affected. The rest of the story can be read tomorrow through Catco. Good day."

Lena strides towards The final government SUV without waiting for more questions, Kara right on her heels. The questions come anyway, some even thinking to throw some towards Kara. Kara follows Lena's lead and ignores them all. Once an agent closes the door, all the shouting is finally muffled and the flashing lights are barely visible through the darkly tinted windows.

Lena deflates once more and leans her head against the glass, closing her eyes. Kara watches her. That's all Kara feels like she is doing, too afraid of Lena suddenly disappearing again. Without looking, Lena holds out her hand and Kara just stares at it. Lena sighs and opens her eyes to look at Kara.

“I thought there was going to be handholding that came with our dating?”

“Dating?” Kara asks, still confused.

“Well, we had one date, and I would like to go on a second. Multiple dates usually means dating. Unless you didn’t enjoy our first date?” Lena raises an eyebrow at Kara.

“No! What? I mean, yes! I had a great time. How many people have a first date that ends in the arrest of a corrupt businessman?”

“I’ve had three. Granted, the man was the date for the other two, so this is far better.”

“This has been the best first date I have ever had.” Kara twines her fingers with Lena’s and relaxes against the seat of the car.

After a debriefing with Alex, Kara and Lena were free to go. Kara shuffles a bit on the sidewalk outside of the building, unsure what to do. She wasn’t really ready to go home just yet. “Would you like to come back to mine and watch a movie?” Lena asks as if reading Kara’s mind. “I need to shower first but we could order more food and just hang out. I don’t think I’m ready to be alone yet.”

“Me either. Is that weird? I mean it was only a couple of days, but it's like I am so used to your presence now, it will be weird to be without.”

Lena smiles softly, “Same. Come on.”

A short cab ride later, and the couple make it to Lena’s penthouse. Kara tries not to snoop too much as Lena showers but Lena did say for Kara to help herself to any drinks in the fridge and pick from the take out menus in the drawer. Kara orders from her favorite Chinese place and settles on Lena’s much too comfortable couch to look through her video streaming services.

Lena is out before the food arrives and she pays cash when it does. It’s a weird sort of domesticity that Kara feels settling over her as Lena pads towards the couch with a paper bag in her fuzzy socks. Kara smiles at her and Lena grins back.

“There are some sweats and a t-shirt I put in the bathroom if you want to change,” Lena says while unpacking the red and white cartons.

“Sounds perfect. I’ll be right back.”

A quiet evening in with a wonderful woman is just what Kara needed after all the chaos and panic of the week. The food dwindles to just enough for leftovers as Kara and Lena pick at it. Lena stands to put it away before settling on the couch, right next to Kara. Without thinking, Kara lifts her arm and places it around Lena’s shoulders, pulling her close. It felt like something she had been doing for years, not for the first time. Soon the two begin to slowly sink lower and lower into the couch, and by the time the credits roll, Kara is half asleep on her back with Lena snoring softly in her chest. Kara manages to reach the remote to turn off the TV and pull a blanket over them. There was no way she was waking Lena now, plus the couch was really comfortable.

#supergirl #supercorp #scbb2020 #scbb #fanfiction #au #Haunted

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kbstories · 4 years

Text

Synthesis

syn·the·sis (n.) A higher truth gained from two contradicting ideas.

Every man has a breaking point - even Luffy. Good thing Usopp knows a thing or two about overcoming boundaries.

(Or: Sabo is in danger and Luffy is stressed)

Tags: Post-Wano, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nakamaship, Canon Compliant (up until Chapter 977), Recovery, Usopp is MVP as always, Mentions of Ace

Spoiler warning up to Chapter 977. Anything beyond that is pure speculation.

***

There’s a poetic sort of justice to the fact that everyone knows and Luffy doesn’t, this time.

It’s fucked up, sure, a twist of fate so morbid only Robin would find joy in it, and even she looks vaguely sick. You see, repetition is a fantastic rhetorical device: There’s nothing more satisfying than a story coming full circle, when the intricate mosaic of setup and payoff results in much-needed catharsis. Simple and effective, any storyteller will tell you – and Usopp is damn good at telling stories. It’s the one thing he can be proud of, when everything else fails.

Usopp doesn’t feel particularly good about that – or anything really – right at this moment. Perhaps in future he will, by all the seas, he hopes he will because that means this too will pass, and they will emerge from it victorious, just another miracle by the miracle-working crew from the East Blue.

But right now, surrounded by the shaken faces of his crew mates, all he feels like doing is crawling back to bed and passing out until it’s all over. To run for the hills and never return.

Usopp can’t and Usopp won’t, however. Because it’s Luffy, and because he made that mistake once before and swore: never again, never, never–

The newspaper lies innocently between them, a few days old by the time it made it past Wano’s crumbling borders via a confused News Coo, a clearly-alarmed Bepo (he hadn’t even apologized for almost running over Brook in his haste to get to his captain, and looking back that should’ve been the first red flag) and Law bursting into the room the Strawhats have claimed for their recovery, covered head-to-toe in gauze and all warmth drained from his expression.

Usopp did not miss witnessing their ally that close to despair. It makes the bright smile Law shared with Luffy in their moment of victory seem like a distant dream, perhaps part of one of Usopp’s more ludicrous tales.

“They got him. They got Sabo.”

It’s like he dropped a live grenade in their hands, if grenades were made of words torn kicking and screaming from a nightmare they all share. Usopp wants to ask – They, who is they?! – and there’s always a ‘they’, the Marine or the World Government or CP0 or some other shadowy organization pulling the strings of corruption and misery. But it hardly matters because this… this is real, a realization that passes from Strawhat to Strawhat along with the black-and-white print staring at them from pages increasingly crumpled by nine sets of shaking hands:

Revolutionaries Defeated at Mariejois: No. 2 of the Revolutionary Army Successfully Captured!

And in their midst slumbers their captain, huddled in the softest blankets they could find and snoring away his injuries, and he doesn’t know.

The irony – horrible, grotesque, unfair, unfair – isn’t lost on Usopp. Two years ago, he would’ve killed to have this, to be there, to catch Luffy as he bled and screamed and burned at the pyres of his brother’s death. To save Luffy just as he saved every single soul in this room, Law included.

Please, is all Usopp can think of, begging to every deity he’s heard of and those he hasn’t, to anyone who will listen, let him rest. Luffy doesn’t deserve this, not again. Please, have mercy–

Zoro is the first to move and something in Usopp moves with him, a fledgeling sense of optimism fluttering pathetically in his chest. Because it’s Zoro and Zoro always leads them right when their captain is off saving the world or a country (or two). Yet all Zoro does is sit at Luffy’s bedside like a mountain shaken into rubble, a measured kind of collapse that hits Usopp square in the gut. He doesn’t know what the others are doing, doesn’t dare look away from their first mate, but someone is crying and someone else is murmuring comforting words, and that at least sounds like Sanji so the first must be Nami.

There’s only a handful of times Roronoa Zoro has yielded without mounting a counterattack right afterwards and none of them are memories Usopp wants to revisit. Not now, not ever.

“Who else knows?”, Zoro asks, the steel in his voice worn down to a dull edge at best, and Zoro’s hand settles on Luffy’s head so gently it brings tears to Usopp’s eyes, too. Luffy mumbles in his sleep and smiles, nuzzling further into the covers with the clumsy comfort of a napping dog.

Law, too, is staring blankly at that gesture before blinking, focusing anew. He’s so tense a muscle visibly twitches in his jaw with the heavy swallow working its way down his throat.

“Bepo, me. Now you. Kidd is suspicious but he won’t leave Killer’s side, not yet anyways.”

The mere mention of Killer serves as an additional sucker punch on top of the veritable tsunami crashing over them, on the mend as he may be. That could have easily been Zoro, or Bepo, and the haunted glint in Law’s eyes says he’s thinking of it, too.

Zoro nods, absently. “And how long till we can set sail?”

For the briefest of moments, Law looks like he’s going to protest. The Trafalgar Law they met a few months ago would have, grim and annoyed, and the one from just last week would too, exasperated and loud–

Since then, they have beaten one of the Four Emperors and sent another one packing with her tail between her legs, and that feeling of having your dreams within reach if you only try hard enough, if you truly believe in it and your friends and yourself, it forges a bond like little else does. Hope is a dangerous thing – it can heal as much as it can wound, and Luffy has taught them all, one by one, how to endure both sides of that coin.

This pirate alliance of theirs has long stopped meaning what Law had wanted it to, and instead turned into what Luffy promised all along: Something permanent, something unbreakable, that all-or-nothing sensation of trust that is as much a freefall as it is flying.

So Law just… sighs. He rubs at eyes deeply smudged with missed hours of sleep and close calls all around, and Usopp can see his shoulders bend under the weight of being a captain.

“I… I don’t know. But I’ll find out. I don’t need to remind you all that this– It’s not like Kaido. Our chances against Kaido were slim to none but they were there. That report, it’s already outdated. The world has been shifting with us being none the wiser, and it could be that Luffy’s brother is already…”

It’s like Law can’t bring himself to say it, as if even speaking the possibility into existence will make them lose something they can’t get back. His gaze flickers to Jinbei, briefly, then to Luffy, and sympathy deepens the lines on his face.

“I’ll find out”, Law repeats, firmly. “Just… be there when Luffy wakes up. Then we’ll decide.”

And though many things may have changed, two years and countless battles later, this remains the same, always, always. Being at Luffy’s side is a privilege and a duty no Strawhat will ever turn their back on.

Blinking the blurriness from his vision, Usopp looks at the bandages wrapped around Luffy’s chest with loving care and the deep purple of bruises peeking out underneath, and he clenches his trembling hands to fists and hopes. As long as there is a sliver of sky above them and the wisp of a current below, they will follow their captain to the end of the world and beyond.

Come whatever may. Because this time, they are here and they're not letting go.

Luffy starts craving food the next morning.

It startles Usopp, the hand that knocks against his head and snaps him out of his doze by his captain’s side. He stares at the questing fingers for a few uncomprehending seconds. Usually he’d laugh, spirits lifted by the prospect of Luffy waking up sooner rather than later so they can celebrate properly.

There is nothing usual about this. Usopp reaches behind himself to the solid weight slumped against his back, shifting fitfully.

Sanji comes to with a tense breath. “It’s just me”, Usopp mumbles and doesn’t ask if his friend is alright. None of them are. Instead he says, “He’s looking for you”, and watches Sanji’s eyes soften somewhere between relief and heartbreak behind the strands of his fringe, weirdly unkempt.

“Mh, thanks”, Sanji replies in a raspy whisper; he gets up and leaves, side-stepping the jumbled puzzle of limbs that are the Strawhat Pirates. Only once he’s out the door does he reach for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket.

Sighing, Usopp rubs his eyes until they ache in an effort to wake up. Fuck, it’s like he hasn’t slept for a year and it’s been barely twenty-four hours. Beside him, Luffy’s hand inches its way towards Nami – sleeping close enough to brush knees with Usopp, head pillowed on crossed arms – and Usopp reaches out, takes it gently.

Luffy’s palm is warm against his, slightly damp from the fever he ran the first few days of recovery. His knuckles are a busted, swollen mess even now, and Usopp is careful. It wriggles impatiently, this hand that knocked a literal dragon out of the sky, and then it settles in Usopp’s grasp and Luffy sighs in his sleep.

Usopp can’t help but smile a little. “Food is coming, captain”, he tells him quietly. “Be patient with us, okay?”

Back to waiting it is. Not for the first time, Usopp plops his chin on the edge of the bed and just… looks. With his straw hat set aside (and safely tucked against Jinbei’s chest where he finally found a semblance of sleep, napping against the wall on the other side of Luffy’s bed), Luffy is sporting a truly impressive case of bedhead, the rest of him lost in a helpless tangle of blankets he tried to kick off during the night. He actually looks his age, Usopp’s age, like this – just some nineteen-year-old punk among many and not the one-of-a-kind captain of a crew famous the world over. It’s a rare chance to soak up this side of Luffy, the expression on his face relaxed and peaceful and lacking the chaotic energy that’s so infectious even eternally-grumpy Law had to give up fighting it off.

A selfish part of Usopp wants Luffy to remain that way, safe in the afterglow of a war well-won and unburdened by the cruelty of reality. It’s the same part of him that remembers the loving smile Sabo directed at Luffy, sleeping soundly in someone else’s bed just like this, and asks, why? Why didn’t you stay put? Why are you risking everything when your little brother is right here–

It’s selfish because stopping someone from doing what they truly want is the exact opposite of what Luffy is all about. Because the thing Sabo yearns for is freedom, and as long as the Celestial Dragons rule over their paradise built on the backs of countless slaves, no one is well and truly free.

If there’s a fight worth dying for, it’s that one. And yet–

“He’s going to be okay, you know?”

Usopp jumps a little, his neck protesting painfully as he whips his head around. Nami snickers at the wince on Usopp’s face before she sighs, the brown of her eyes bright with emotion.

“This sucks but… Luffy is strong. He’ll know what to do. Traffy is with us, we have a fleet to back us up, we’ll call in every favor we’re owed, and then we’ll show those fuckers hell for taking what’s ours. Sabo will be fine. I’ll kill him myself if he isn’t.”

She huffs, then, having talked herself into that righteous kind of fury that’s uniquely Nami even if she keeps her voice down for Luffy’s sake. Usopp finds himself chuckling.

“Say, what’s our going rate for personal rescue missions against impossible odds again?”

“A lot.” The grin on Nami’s grin is knife-sharp. “The Revolutionaries will be in a world of debt just for making Luffy worry.”

“Good”, Usopp says, and grins back just as fiercely.

They let Luffy eat his fill, for one because his healing factor is largely based on burning through incredible amounts of calories in no time at all, and also because Sanji looks like he needs to see it.

As much as their cook has his gripes about the bottomless pit that is Luffy’s stomach: Only when his captain is back on solid foods and on track to regain the weight he lost while unconscious does Sanji allow himself to relax. For Usopp, this means making sure his own plate is damn near licked clean by the time Sanji lets out a quiet breath and shuffles to the open window to smoke. The rest of the Strawhats eat, too, a low hum of conversation taking some of the tension out of the room they’ve barely left since Kaido.

The only exception is Zoro, and Usopp can’t help the glances he gives the door every few minutes, as if he’d magically reappear just like that.

The negotiations have been going on for ages now. As far as Usopp gathered, the Heart Pirates are heading intel and logistics, while Momonosuke assured them whatever resources Wano Country can spare – after taking care of their people, Zoro had added with a huff when he’d checked in on Luffy around dawn.

That’s not the problem, then. Eustass Kidd is, and after all that happened around the Kidd Pirates and pirate alliances, Usopp isn’t exactly surprised the guy refuses to compromise when it comes to his crew. Killer is awake now, though, and judging by the explosive arguments raging on outside, Kidd is not happy with his partner’s input on the matter.

The all-too-familiar sound of three swords being drawn is loud in the ensuing hush, and every scrap of metal in the room vibrates from the near-oppressive wave of magnetism sweeping through it.

“Oh? Who’s fighting?”

“Zoro and Kidd”, answers Usopp automatically, sighing. “Again.”

“Ah, okay. Not seriously though, right? We promised them a party after all. Like, a big one.”

“Kinda? It’s hard to tell honestl–”

Usopp blinks and turns to see Luffy awake and tilting his head at him. His hands are yet to stop shoving food in his face and Usopp stares with his mouth agape.

“Y-you’re awake!”

“Yeah!”, Luffy says with enthusiasm, and not a second later does he lift his plate away from the ball of fur charging at him with the force of a bull. Calmly, Sanji grabs the food and sets it aside for later.

“Luffy!”

Chopper’s tearful wail is followed by a breathy oof from Luffy as the reindeer clings to his bandaged chest in a flurry of hooves. Luffy chuckles, “Hey Chopper”, sounding pleased as punch that the doctor is walking all over him. Then he meets the half-circle of relieved looks around him, his smile only getting wider and wider.

“Hey everyone! I slept in again, huh?”

“Hey yourself”, Sanji murmurs around a smoke-filled smile. He leans out the window and calls, “Mosshead! Crew meeting!”, and the clanging of swords on metal immediately stops.

The Strawhats coalesce from all corners of the room, crowding around their captain whilst leaving enough space for the impromptu check-up Chopper is conducting. This, at least, is familiar. Frazzled as they are, Usopp’s nerves are soothed by Luffy’s easy-going compliance with Chopper’s orders to make a fist, breathe deeply, cough, does this hurt? and if the doctor’s hooves are marginally less steady than usual, well, it’s only to be expected. There’s a line forming between Luffy’s eyebrows though, and Usopp knows none of them are ready to answer the questions forming behind that pensive look–

It’s in that moment that Jinbei steps up, eyes a little solemn even if the smile on his lips isn’t. “Glad to see you awake, captain”, he says, and offers Luffy his hand, palm-up. Cradled with infinite care between webbed fingers, Luffy’s beloved hat looks small and unassuming; met with immediate delight by its owner, it might as well be a crown made of gold and the finest jewels far and wide.

“My hat! Thank y– Jinbei!”

The name rings with joy the same way it did during battle, and while Jinbei regards Luffy with some measure of perplexity as he’s drawn into a rubbery hug along with the hat, Usopp exchanges fond looks with some of the crew. Dire news be damned, it’s still a little unreal to have their tenth crew member finally with them, like, permanently.

They couldn’t have found a better helmsman in any of the seas, that’s for sure.

“It’s so cool you’re back! We gotta celebrate! Oi Sanji–”

“Not so fast, Luffy. We gotta talk.”

Those gruff words cut through the smiles and laughter like they’re made of washi paper; finally Zoro is there, skin glistening with sweat and droplets of blood pooling around fresh scrapes, and the unhappy slope of his mouth is an important reminder that fate doesn’t care about reunions and banquets of epic proportions.

The change in Luffy is instantaneous, eyes snapping to Zoro’s. His attention shifts like the wind, a physical force in this limited space. Almost absently, he places his hat where it belongs, a captain once more.

“Zoro? What’s wrong?”

No one answers, the silence lasting a mere heartbeat and an eternity all at once. This is it, Usopp thinks, the moment balancing on the precipice before a future as murky and uncertain as the ocean’s deepest trenches. He closes his eyes.

“What happened? Tell me.”

It’s said with authority, a weight similar to Haki but kinder, reassuring rather than suffocating – and resolve takes shape in Usopp’s chest, an urge to keep his head high and watch it all unfold with courage in his heart.

It has a similar effect on Zoro and it’s only then, with his shoulders squared and gaze steady, that Usopp realizes how miserable he had looked without Luffy by his side. Guilt creeps on Usopp, acidic in his veins. (Later. He can feel shitty about all of this later.)

“It’s Sabo. Things… are not looking good.”

Zoro produces the paper – a different one, newer, and Usopp feels his heart clench – from the sleeve of his yukata and hands it over, pre-folded to the relevant page. All Usopp can see from his angle is Sabo’s smile, determination apparent even upside-down. It’s a re-print of his wanted poster.

Next to him, Robin draws in a trembling breath and Usopp reaches out for her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers to stop them from shaking.

“Sabo?”

It’s with clear surprise that Luffy utters his brother’s name, and Usopp watches helplessly as Luffy’s pupils flit left to right, reading, skipping over dense paragraphs and coming up to the picture at the top over and over–

Then he looks up, and Luffy’s eyes are wide with worry and confusion so earnest it hurts Usopp to the core. “I… What? But he was there, at Dressrosa. And he was fine…? I don’t understand. Is this a joke?”

Zoro’s eye narrows, something wounded there and gone like a shadow. “It’s not. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand”, Luffy repeats, insistent now, and he turns to Robin because that’s what Luffy does when something doesn’t make sense to him. “Robin?”

Robin’s hand squeezes Usopp’s, near-painful. All Usopp can do is squeeze back.

“The revolutionaries, they… There were plans to rebel against the World Nobles. The people in bubbles on Sabaody, remember?” Robin’s voice evens out and yet, her lashes are wet with unshed tears.

“It looks like they failed. We don’t know more than that – the Marine has kept the papers scrubbed clean, as always – but it seems your brother was in charge of the mission. They’re sending him to Impel Down, Luffy. That’s what it means.”

Impel Down.

Usopp can see the exact moment those two words sink in: all blood drains from sun-kissed skin, leaving Luffy’s face close to pallid in contrast to the mottled bruises underneath; Luffy’s mouth opens but no sound arises, no word of protest, no nothing, and Usopp would honestly prefer to see him scream to the heavens or burst into tears than this, this petrified sort of shock that doesn’t belong anywhere near Luffy. Then–

“We’re ready, captain.”

That’s Zoro again, and there’s a hard edge to his tone that Usopp recognizes as sorrow only because it mirrors his own.

“Law has a plan, we’re fully stocked, the fleet is one snail call away. Killer wants to help so Kidd will come too. It’ll take a week to get there, tops. Just say the word and we’ll–”

“No.”

It’s nothing more than a whisper and yet, they all hear it. And even if they didn’t, Luffy repeats it once, twice, gaining in volume.

“No, no. We’re staying here. Sabo–”

Luffy’s voice cracks, and Usopp’s heart breaks clean in two, and Luffy pushes on, panting like he’s running a hundred miles in a hurricane.

“Sabo has his friends, and my dad. He’ll be fine, okay? He’ll come back. Sabo always comes back. So we don’t need to worry.”

That’s how it works: If Luffy believes in something, his crew does, too. It’s how they’ve always worked, how they’ve pulled off miracle after miracle and will continue to do so until they have sailed the entirety of the Grand Line and their captain is made King.

Something burns in Luffy’s eyes now and it’s not… that. It’s desperate, hunted, wrong. A lie said like a truth, and Usopp would know.

It occurs to him, in a distant part of his mind, that this is the first time he’s seen his captain truly afraid.

And it’s that what kicks Usopp’s brain into overdrive, because on this crew of reckless monsters he’s the one tasked with a healthy sense of fear, to manage the doubts everyone else doesn’t have because those are important, sometimes.

Because true bravery is a road made of boundaries and the means to overcome them, again and again and again – as many times as it takes to reach the end.

“Luffy”, Usopp says, and his voice doesn’t shake. He doesn’t let it. “We got this. We can save your brother. You have to trust us.”

In many ways, this is Usopp’s personal nightmare come true. He sees Luffy clench his trembling hands to fists, and his eyes narrow, and the vulnerability there bends into anger in an instant and it’s all so familiar.

“It’s not about that. It’s my decision to make, and I’ve decided. We’re not going.”

But this time, Usopp breathes. He forces himself to pause, just a moment, just so he can think and not lose himself to the panicked rush of blood to his head.

“We’re not gonna die, Luffy. We went through hell before and we came out alright, didn’t we? So we have to go. Please let us go.”

Suddenly Nami moves, kneeling next to the bed. She places a hand on Luffy’s wrist, gentle over the tense line of muscle there. “Luffy. Usopp’s right. Sabo’s your brother. He’s family.”

“I know that. I know–”

Luffy pulls away from her, from all of them, hides his face in his hands and pushes his fingers into his eyes hard enough that the bones in his hand show, thin and fragile-looking. One by one, tears start dripping down his palms and to the covers below.

“You guys don’t understand”, he says, his voice a hoarse, quivering mess. “You think you’ve seen hell but you haven’t, ‘cause Impel Down is hell and if we go there– There’s no way we’re getting out. Not a-all of us.”

It’s so quiet Usopp can’t even hear anyone else breathing but Luffy, every inhale hitched and barely realized before rushing back out. It’s like he can’t but speak, the horrors he’s seen and never talked about strangling him from the inside.

“Back then I wasn’t thinking ‘cause it was A-Ace, and he was trapped in there and not free, and just the thought of him dying like that made me sick. I only survived ‘cause I had a ton of help and ‘cause a bunch of people died instead of me.”

Luffy stops, and breathes, and rubs his arm across his face until the tears are gone. Usopp doesn’t mention he’s probably ruining the careful work Chopper put into binding that arm. Chopper himself is too busy crying his eyes out against Franky’s shoulder to really notice.

“I’m not risking it”, Luffy says then, eyes dull and red-rimmed. “Mariejois – that’s at Sabaody, right? Marineford and G-1 are around there, too. It’s gonna be a huge mess, again, and I…”

I can’t do it, not again.

It goes unsaid, in the end; perhaps, despite everything, Luffy isn’t actually capable of expressing something so devoid of hope, so close to giving up. That’s… more than nothing, it’s enough to hold on to, and that’s exactly what Usopp does.

“Then we won’t go to Impel Down. And we won’t go to Marineford, or G-1, or wherever those assholes are gonna make a show out of– That. Okay, Luffy? We won’t go to any of those places.”

“But… then how…?”

Usopp searches for Zoro, his gaze bridging the few feet between them that feel endless and Zoro blinks and gives him that devil-may-care smirk of his. To Zoro’s credit, it almost looks right.

“We’re pirates”, says Usopp with enough conviction for both Luffy and himself. For all of them, really, for one brilliant moment.

“We’re going to catch them at sea, because we have the best navigator and the fastest ship and the most skilled helmsman. We’re going to fuck them up because we have the strongest swordsman and a musician who can cut through souls and a freaking cyborg with laser beams and Nico Robin. And we’re going to be fine, because Sanji’s food raised you from the dead just this morning and Chopper can heal any wound and because our captain always leads us right. And even if they manage to account for all of that…”

Usopp grins with far too much teeth.

“We just have to get in range. I’ll shoot those bastards from so far away they won’t even see it coming, and if anyone even thinks of laying a hand on your brother I’ll shoot those off too.”

Luffy just stares at him like he’s seeing him for the first time, eyes swimming in tears. Then he laughs, an awkward, hiccupping kind of laughter that’s raw relief more than anything else. “That’s right”, he gasps, a hand rubbing at his chest where the starburst scar is currently hidden from sight.

“You’re right! We’ll save Sabo, and everyone will be okay, and then we’ll throw the biggest party ever. Right?”

“Right”, Usopp says, “and don’t you dare forget it”, voice wobbling all over the place now that his captain is smiling again, and he hears a fond sigh from Sanji to his left and a melodic chuckle from Robin to his right and Nami looks at him with so much pride Usopp doesn’t know what to do with himself.

It’s Jinbei he settles on, who gives his captain a soft look before he meets Usopp’s eyes half-way and nods, his smile full of admiration. For him. Usopp, son of Yasopp, from Syrup Village, East Blue.

None of his storybooks taught Usopp what to do after the heroic speech is over and the day is saved. And perhaps there is no trick to it, no how-to guide to achieve that dream of his – perhaps, for now, it’s enough to let himself be dragged into a rubber-limbed hug that threatens to crush his ribs, and share the laugh that found its home in his captain once more.

If that’s the case, then Usopp thinks he’s doing alright on the hero front after all.

#one piece #fanfiction #monkey d. luffy #usopp #roronoa zoro #one piece spoilers #one piece fanfiction #oda's got me so tense about the wano arc and what comes after omg #(also sorry if the read more doesn't work RIP)#let's see if tumblr actually throws this in the tags this time #not linking AO3 for the same reason but this fic is also on AO3!!#my stuff

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reading-writing-revolution · 4 years

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Very long, VERY with the read -

Copied:

"I have been purposely been absent from the online conversation about opening schools because I was keeping my head in the sand for as long as I could. But the words below from a Fairfax parent, Joe Morice, could not express any more clearly why we should be fully virtual in the Fall. It’s a long read but well worth it.

——-

To our fellow FCPS families, this is it gang, 5 days until the 2 days in school vs. 100% virtual decision. Let’s talk it out, in my traditional mammoth TL/DR form.

“My kids want to go back to school.”

I challenge that position. I believe what the kids desire is more abstract. I believe what they want is a return to normalcy. They want their idea of yesterday. And yesterday isn’t on the menu.

“I want my child in school so they can socialize.”

“My kid is going to be left behind.”

“Classrooms are safe.”

100% of them said no, they would not. These are some of their answers:

“No. Until further notice we are on Zoom.”

“(Our company) doesn’t allow us in (company space).”

“Oh hell no.”

“No absolutely not.”

“Is there a percentage lower than zero?”

“Something of that size would be virtual.”

“Children only die .0016 of the time.”

If you’re in this camp, and I acknowledge that many, many people are, I’m asking you to consider that number from a slightly different angle.

“Hardly any kids get COVID.”

(Deep sigh) Yes, that is statistically true as of this writing. But it is a cherry-picked argument because you’re leaving out an important piece.

“The flu kills more people every year.”

(Deep sigh). First of all, no, it doesn’t. Per the CDC, United States flu deaths average 20,000 annually. COVID, when I start writing here today, has killed 133,420 in six months.

“Almost everyone recovers.”

While I’m making every effort to reach objectivity, on this particular point, you don’t know what the f- you’re talking about.

“If people get sick, they get sick.”

First, you mistyped. What you intended to say was “If OTHER people get sick, they get sick.” And shame on you.

“I’m not going to live my life in fear.”

“FCPS leadership sucks.”

“I talked it over with my kids.”

“The teachers need to do their job.”

“Teachers have a greater chance to being killed by a car than they do of dying from COVID.”

“If the grocery store workers can be onsite what are the teachers afraid of?”

A teacher is with 11 ‘customers’ who have not an inkling what mortality is, for 45 minutes, in a 675 SF space, six times a day.

Just stop.

“Teachers are choosing remote because they don’t want to work.”

“I wasn’t prepared to be a parent 24/7” and “I just need a break.”

“What does your gut tell you to do?”

Shawn and I have talked ad infinitum about all of these and other points. Two days ago, at mid-discussion I said, “Stop, right now, gut answer, what is it,” and we both said, “virtual.”

I keep thinking that the 2 days option is the soundproof steel box. I welcome, damn, beg, anyone to convince me otherwise.

At the time I started writing at 12:09 PM, 133,420 Americans had died from COVID. Upon completing this draft at 7:04 PM, that number rose to 133,940.

520 Americans died of COVID while I was working on this. In seven hours.

The length of a school day."

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mst3kproject · 4 years

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Atomic Rulers

So 2020 fucking blows. We’ve got Death and Pestilence all over the place, War is waiting in the wings licking her chops, and I’m sure Famine is only a matter of time. You know what we need? A hero. Operator, put me through to the Emerald Planet! After fifty-five years, the Earth must once again call upon Star Man.

(I apologize for the poor quality screencaps in this review. The WiFi at sea is not great, so I’m watching movies on YouTube in decidedly low definition. I’ll replace them with better ones if I ever get out of here.)

Atomic Rulers, also sometimes known as Atomic Rulers of the World, is actually the first Star Man movie. Does that mean we get an origin story for our brave hero? Of course not. Instead, we learn that the evil nation of… uh… a sign in the movie says Merapolia but the dubbing sounds like Magolia... whatever. Their nuclear testing is starting to contaminate Outer Space and the Emerald Men don’t like that – they send Star Man to Earth to do something about it.

This movie gives us two things none of the other Star Man movies do. First of all, there’s an actual purpose to that ‘globemeter’ watch thingy he wears. The opening of every movie explains that the globemeter allows Star Man to do three things: travel through outer space, speak and understand any language, and detect sources of radioactivity. The first two functions have proven to be very useful, but neither the Salamander Men nor Ballazar’s Brain were radioactive, so the third just sat there like the stocks app on an iPhone. Now, with the threat of concealed Magolian nuclear weapons, he finally uses it!

The second is, holy shit, a plot. The Magolians want to rule the world, and aliens from a dozen different Godzilla movies have assured them that when conquering the Earth, you have to start with Japan. To that end, their agents are sneaking atomic weapons into the country. Star-Man tries to confiscate these, and in the midst of the lame-ass fight scene that follows, the Magolian Bag-O-Nukes is carried off by a bunch of annoying little kids! The Magolians kidnap one of the kids and try to force him to tell them where their bomb is. Star-Man rescues the boy, but it’s too late – they’ve already retrieved the bomb. There’s just a few hours left before Japan must surrender, or be blown to bits as an example to the rest of the world!

There’s actually even more to the plot than that. It’s full of wild twists and turns, with Star Man and the Magolians taking turns looking like they’re about to win the day. Yet at the same time, unlike the other Star Man films, the story is not obviously bifurcated! You can tell where Movie One ends and Movie Two begins (with the rescue of the kidnapped kid), but the same characters are involved throughout rather than changing from reel to reel. Even the gaggle of nameless kids in short-shorts kind of play a role in the plot, helping Star Man and giving information to the police whenever they can. The plot unspools in a single main storyline from beginning to end, and events usually make enough sense that you can figure out where they fit.

Even more shockingly, Star Man himself actually has some personality in this film, even a bit of a character arc. In the other movies he just ran around punching aliens and smiling at children, but here we see him as a bit of an arrogant dick, confident in his ability to beat the mere humans who represent the threat to the universe. When he is nearly beaten instead, he is forced to learn a little humility, and nearly sacrifices his life to save a hostage.

By leaps and bounds, then, this is the best Star Man movie I’ve seen. There’s a couple more out there, but they’d have to work hard to be better than Atomic Rulers. At the same time, as praise goes ‘the best Star Man movie’ is almost as faint as ‘the best Coleman Francis movie’. It still sucks big-time, and Mike and the bots would have had riff material to spare.

I mean, this is a movie where the bad guys have a giant cartoon demon face on the wall of their lair for some reason, and when they’re not disguised in blazers and ties they wear coronavirus suits with the same face on the chest. There’s a bit where Star Man swordfights with a bunch of them, using fencing foils that were just lying around in the room for some reason. Other fight scenes are mostly things like Magolians frantically shooting at Star Man while he just stands there looking smug. The ‘atomic core’ MacGuffin is just a plastic tube full of glitter. The back-projected ‘flying’ effects are dire. There’s a bomb that has a literal clock on the side ticking down the minutes like in an old cartoon. There’s a pretty girl strapped into a death trap that I can only describe as the world’s slowest guillotine.

There’s a fairly extended sequence in which we see the Magolians’ car driving down a road, then cut to Star-Man flying, then back to the car, then back to Star Man, then back to the car, and on and on until I could almost hear Crow shouting “he’s following them! We get it!”

The Magolians themselves confuse me a bit. People refer to their embassy and their ambassadors, and there’s a flag on their car and so forth, so I’m pretty sure they’re supposed to be from a country on Earth… and yet they behave exactly like the villains of a Japanese alien invasion movie. They have dumb costumes, they call the guy in charge ‘supreme leader’, and most distracting of all, they refer to conquering ‘the Earth’. Maybe this is just an artifact of the translation, but I would expect humans to talk about ruling ‘the world’ rather than ‘the Earth’. It left me expecting a big reveal at the end, and when there wasn’t one, I had to go back to the beginning to see if they’d been established as aliens and I’d missed it.

Speaking of possible artifacts of translation, there’s another thing here I’m not sure about. A lot of Japanese ‘no nukes’ movies have American antagonists, or at least, white guys who are clearly a stand-in for Americans. My favourite example is the belligerent country of Rolisica in Mothra, which is an absolutely hilarious summary of what 60’s Japan thought the West was like. Magolia, on the other hand, appears to be a stand-in for the USSR. The actors playing the Magolians are mostly white, and we only ever hear two of their names: the supreme leader has a nonsense name, but the ambassador is called Boris Zedenko. I wonder if this is original to the script, or whether it was changed when the movie was dubbed for American release.

The thing I find most interesting about Atomic Rulers is that while Star Man does save the Earth, that’s not really his goal. The Emerald Men sent him here to prevent a war because Earth’s radioactivity was leaking into outer space, threatening other planets. Star Man isn’t here to save humanity, he’s here to save the rest of the universe from us; saving us from ourselves is merely a side-effect.

This makes Star-Man a little different from his imitators, Space Chief and Prince of Space. Despite their space-themed code-names, they are humans from Earth, with a specific interest in protecting this planet. Star-Man seems to have the broader responsibility of protecting the civilized galaxy in general, and this is reflected in the premises of his movies. In Evil Brain from Outer Space, Ballazar’s Brain is using Earth as a place to launch a general takeover of the universe. Invasion from Space was a little less clear about it, but I’m pretty sure there was something about the Earth being ‘the richest planet in the galaxy’ and the Salamander Men would presumably use that loot for nefarious purposes.

A side implication here is that Star-Man probably has other adventures, too – we’re only seeing the ones that happen to bring him to our particular planet. Considering how strange Star-Man movies can be anyway, and how trippy the brief shot of the Emerald Planet, with its crystal-headed creatures and robots and even a couple of what appear to be the Pairans from Warning from Space, one has to wonder about these potential non-Earth storylines. How fucking weird would those be? I’m imagining something like an entire movie about Krankor’s pet giant.

Another thing that distinguishes Star Man from the other space dinks is that he has actual superpowers. Space Chief and Prince of Space are basically just normal guys in stupid outfits. Prince of Space claims that Krankor’s ray guns have no effect on him, but really we see he’s using his wand-thing to deflect them. Star Man, who is from another planet, can fly and has super-strength. This kind of makes me wonder if he was intended as a Superman imitator… but that would make Space Chief and Prince of Space the equivalent of Batman, and I just can’t insult Batman like that.

I am developing an honest affection for Star Man movies. Their desperate cheapness is more than made up for by their over-the-top absurdity, and the result is not at all ‘good’ by any reasonable measure and yet is always entertaining. Camp like that is all too rare to find, and even rarer to find a franchise like Gamera or Star Man that can do it dependably. I don’t know why the Japanese are apparently so good at this, but I’m glad somebody is.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #atomic rulers #60s #starman and friends

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ladyhistorypod · 4 years

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Episode 13: Only the Good Die Young

Sources:

Ryu Gwansun

History Channel

Internet Archive

Wikisource

Korea(.)net

Further reading/viewing: Pantheon, Memories of Cell No. 8 (YouTube), A Resistance Trailer (YouTube)

Brittany Murphy

Investigation Discovery

ET Canada (YouTube)

Biography, Brittany Murphy: The Mysterious Circumstances Surrounding Her Untimely Death

Rotten Tomatoes, 11 surprising things you probably didn’t know about ‘Clueless’

Buzzfeed

CNN

Alice Ball

Biography

National Geographic

Oxford Museum of Natural History

ScholarSpace University of Hawaii Manoa

Chemistry World

Click below for a full transcript of the episode!

Alana: So the title of this episode is Only the Good Die Young, right? Haley: Yeah. Alana: And I know it's a song. But that's not even true, because people are complicated, first of all, and all dichotomies are false dichotomies, even that one, because there are some true dichotomies. And goddammit that's a Hank Green quote. Lexi: Yet another episode where the Greens slipped in. Alana: Because I love one man and his brother. [INTRO MUSIC] Alana: Hello and welcome to Lady History; the good, the bad, and the ugly ladies you missed in history class. I'm not quite with Lexi. Lexi, what's the worst part about doing this on Zoom? Lexi: Dang. The worst part about doing this on Zoom is if I wanted to make cocktails and give them to you guys I would have to mail them and then the ice would melt so that would really suck. Alana: Also almost here is Haley. Haley, what's the best part about doing this on Zoom? Haley: Seeing your lovely faces. We spent like three, four years together just seeing each other every single day and that was the worst part about going to grad school was I didn't have you guys. Alana: And I'm Alana and I haven't spent this much time in a closet since 2014. Haley, laughing: Oh, shit. Lexi: That's good I love that. That adds a little light. Alana: A little levity. Oh my god Haley’s losing it. Lexi: A brief warning about the following story. This story includes police brutality and torture. If these subjects are uncomfortable for you, please skip to the next story. Archival Audio: Arirang Lexi: You just heard the song Arirang, an approximately six hundred year old folk song which is on the UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage List. During the fight for Korean independence, protesters sang the song as a symbol of Korean spirit. We will tell the story of one of those protesters today; Ryu Gwansun, listener suggested by my sorority sister Kate. Shout out to Kate. My sister from George Mason. I love her and she suggested this lady and it was a really good suggestion. Alana: Wait it's– it's another Korean lady. Lexi: Yes. Alana: Which is the language that you studied in school. Lexi: Yes so it all comes back. And I actually had heard of Ryu Gwansun before, so I was excited to dive deeper into that story and share it with other people because every Korean teacher I ever had brought her up at some point. And if you take Korean history in a college setting, one of the days will be about her, inevitably. So every year in Korea, the people celebrate Independence Movement Day on March 1, and Koreans call this day Sam-il, which literally means three one. This annual event commemorates the protests that took place on March 1, 1919, a large resistance of Japan's military rule of the Korean people. For some context, in 1910 Japan annexed Korea without the consent of Korean leadership. Japan's rule in Korea sought to assimilate Koreans to Japanese culture. It would take a whole episode to explain this entire story and how the U. S. is involved in a whole bunch of other things, but for our purposes it is important to understand that this was like overall a really bad time for the Korean people. Korean culture was restricted, Japanese individuals moved into their land, and violent military rule by the Japanese became the norm in the Korean Peninsula. Additionally, Koreans were forcibly removed from the peninsula and taken Japan to work as forced laborers. So, as you can imagine, there was a lot of resistance to the Japanese in early 20th century Korea. One act of resistance was a protest that occurred on March 1, 1919, Sam-il. On that day, thirty three activists gathered in Seoul and read aloud the Korean Declaration of Independence, which begins “We herewith proclaim the independence of Korea and the liberty of the Korean people. This we proclaim to all the nations of the world in witness of human equality. This we proclaim to our descendents so that they may enjoy in perpetuity their inherent right to nationhood.” Obviously that was said Korean, translated to English for our listeners. This moment was just the spark that began a fire of resistance with communities across the peninsula beginning to protest the Japanese occupation. One protester was Gwansun, who had represented this moment in history for generations of Koreans and today serves as the main symbol of the March 1st movement. Gwansun was born in modern day South Korea, but of course at this time Korea was still one unified nation, so that doesn't really matter, but she was born in a province that's now modern South Korea. She was born on November 17, 1902 so happy birthday to her two days ago when this episode airs. Her father was a reform-minded Methodist and an enlightenment thinker. And in 1918, Gwansun was admitted on scholarship to the Ewha Girls’ School. It's a school that still exists today and has a long list of famous graduates. It is not to be confused with Ewha University, which is a prominent women's university in Seoul, but it is in Seoul and it is Ewha’s girls school so I can understand why people mix them up. The school, along with many others in the country, had become a hub for young activists to learn and discuss the Japanese occupation. Together, they dreamed of Korean independence, so it was very much a young people's movement, and they protested actively cheering “long live Korean independence!” Japan, noticing the schools were becoming organizing hubs for young activists, shut them down. So, Gwansun was sent back to her hometown where she continued to rally support for Korean independence among her community. The school closures were catalysts for national unity among the Korean people and ignited a wave of new activism. So everyone was like “they closed our schools, let's all get together and really start to protest.” So Gwansun recruited people to participate in protests with her on March 1, 1919. The protests would take place at the Aunae– I might be saying that one wrong, I couldn’t find in Hangul, only in English so I'm reading the Romanized version not the Hangul which is why I'm pronouncing it really badly– the Aunae Market. And soon Japanese police forces arrived and began to shoot the Korean protesters who were unarmed. And the police killed nineteen people, including both of Gwansun's parents. The police arrested many of the protesters, including sixteen year old Gwansun. In custody, Gwansun was offered a deal; if she pled guilty and outed her fellow activists who organized the event, the Japanese police would lighten her sentence. When Gwansun refused to out her co-conspirators, the Japanese police tortured her. Despite being beaten, she still resisted giving up any information, thus maintaining her role in the fight against Japanese oppression and violence. Many other women who fought for independence were imprisoned with Gwansun at Seodaemun prison. One year later, on March 1, 1920, women in the women's walk of Seodaemun prison began to chant “long live Korean independence.” The chant spread across the prison. One of these young women was Gwansun. I actually got the chance to visit this prison when I was in South Korea in 2018, highly recommend going there it's now a dedicated history museum with exhibit materials in English, Korean, Chinese, Russian, and a couple other languages. And I got to see cell number eight in the women's branch which is where Gwansun was imprisoned, and it's now dedicated in her honor and it’s set up as an exhibit for her. They had really immersive exhibits to explain her story so it was a very moving experience. After the chant, Gwansun was transferred to solitary confinement. Just two days before the end of her sentence on September 28, 1920 at the age of just seventeen, she died in prison from injuries sustained during torture. Never abandoning her beliefs, she continued to advocate in prison, writing in her diary “Japan will fall. Even if my fingernails are torn out, my nose and ears are ripped apart, and my legs and arms are crushed, this physical pain doesn't compare to the pain of losing my nation. My only remorse is not being able to do more than dedicating my life to my country." It would be another twenty five years until Korea gained independence, with Japan being defeated in World War II. Gwansun has been remembered in popular media, including in Korean films and books, and the trailer for one such film that just came out last year will be on our show notes in the tumblr, it's called “Resistance” in English, it looks really cool. I haven't had a chance to watch the whole film yet but I watched all the trailers that are on YouTube because I was just so captivated. The young actress who plays her seems really really talented so I will be watching the whole thing. Join me in watching it at some point, definitely check it out. And Gwansun is seen as a martyr for the Korean independence movement. She is still honored by Korean people to this day. A shrine was erected to her in home city. It's a really cute statue of her holding up a flag and protesting. And many scholars refer to her as Korea's Joan of Arc, but I don’t like when we compare women to each other. I really think Gwansun is Korea’s Gwansun. She is a woman who died far too young, fighting for what she believed in, and we deserve to remember her in that way. Haley: I love your note on not comparing women to women because… Lexi: It bugs the shit out of me. I just… Like, why does she have to be compared to particularly a white woman, white Christian woman. But why does she have to be compared to anyone else? She did something incredible for her people. Maybe Joan of Arc is France’s Ryu Gwansun. Archival Audio: Before you lies the most glamorous city on Earth. Hollywood, California. A city where men and women skyrocket to fame or crash to oblivion.

Haley: I'll be talking about Brittany Murphy, and with this a brief warning of death, poisoning, murder, and eating disorders. I really struggled with picking a lady today because it was either someone who recently died, which I felt very awkward talking about, or a very small child, which I just, again, mental health needed a break. However, I recently watched Clueless and there is a new ID Mystery or Investigation Discovery coming out so drum roll I had to pick Brittany Murphy. And a lot of me in remembering my deep dive of her life when she died in 2009 and she's one of the first celebrities I remember as a– like a death, like they're dying being reported, and me as a young child having that connection being like “I know who that is I've watched her movies, I've seen her, I had a connection. Also I believe it was around the time my grandfather died, so I kinda– it's been very strange. Whenever someone significant in my life has died another celebrity that had a significant impact in my life also dies around then, so that also had an impression on me. So we all know her as Tai Frasier from the 1995 classic Clueless. However, her big break actually came from becoming a regular on the sitcom Drexell's Class at age fourteen, and honestly it was no surprise that she became such a huge star because around age eight she was begging her mom to start acting, and by age twelve her mom was like “you know what, sure. Let's do this thing. We'll see what happens.” And almost immediately she was booked for gigs, and it was like gig after gig. Back to Clueless. As if - heh - I were gonna just not talk about that movie. Brittany’s character Tai is a new student who's described as hopelessly klutzy and who gets pulled under the wing of popular socialite, Cher, and once she gets that classic makeover, her popularity skyrockets. And yes, this is the movie where the main character starts dating her ex stepbrother who's Paul Rudd. Utter classic. I believe it's still on Netflix. Do yourself a favor and watch it. Alana: It’s based on Emma… Haley: Yes, yes. Alana: And at the end of Emma, Emma starts dating her brother-in-law, so… Haley: So along with the movie being absolutely iconic, it's over twenty five years old so we get a lot of like the fun facts or the tidbits being released. And honestly, not many reference Brittany Murphy. I was really surprised by that. A lot of them of course are on like Cher, being the main character, but a lot on like the director, creator and the costume designer. But for Brittany Murphy I was like oh my gosh I just have all these fun facts in my brain that I just remember from her In Memoriam reel but I couldn't find like the evidence to back it up. But my two favorite were the insult that Tai and Cher like were arguing and Tai goes “you’re a virgin who can’t drive.” Alana: Way harsh, Tai. Haley: Chef’s kiss line. Well, Brittany Murphy was actually the virgin who couldn't drive, which I thought was hysterical. And at the time I watched Clueless I was also a virgin who couldn't drive, so I don't realize like why that was an insult like yeah, what? Alana: I still can't drive. Haley: Like do you not have a license or you’re just a bad driver? Because I’m a shitty driver but I have like– Alana: Oh, my license expires in January. Haley: Oh, okay. Also the scene where she gets hit in the head with like a clog in that like house party, it was a little bit of movie magic if you will because they did the scene with like a prop and it just looked really really fake so when they went in post they superimposed a shoe or whatever like hit her, I believe it was a clog, so the movie would look more realistic. And now I really want to rewatch the movie to see if I like they got it just right with the editing. Now doing a one eighty to her death. As I said, Investigation Discovery has a new episode documentary. In the show notes, I’ve linked it, it’s free. It calls it like episode one or something and I believe it's like forty minutes long, so it's something you can do while you're building a bookshelf, cooking dinner, trying to fall asleep; that's how I watched it, please don't read into that. And the episode documentary is not necessarily on her death that she died, but investigating it as not actually an accident from the perspective of her father really spearheading this. So her father, before he died in 2019, was like “I need to investigate this more,” did a bunch of interviews on how he believes that there is a little more to the story about his daughter Brittany Murphy dying at the age of thirty two. And a lot of my notes come from the documentary or commentary from it and I'm doing a warning in addition to my previous trigger warning that there are a lot of nine one one calls and as Investigation Discovery does, it covers the tragic story without holding anything back. So if that might be a little too much, you'll have a snippet here today. A very abbreviated version, if you will. So her official death from like LA county or like the coroner there in 2010 was said to be a combination of iron deficiency, anemia, pneumonia, and a combination of prescription drugs- like heavy doses of cold medication. But originally, the report was written as a heart attack, and I believe that one of the coroners told news outlets that her death appeared natural. I just want to pause and say a thirty two year old should not have like a natural death if it was ruled as a heart attack. And even kind of with the like documentary, I was having a hard time with like which coroner said what. Maybe that was just me watching this after my stressful life just being my stressful life with work and school. I really want to watch it with you guys too. There are also rumors that she had a drug problem and an eating disorder which could have contributed to her death, but when I was reading like some news outlets and it was like the really crappy tabloids it was like “she died of an eating disorder” and like no or like if she didn't have an eating disorder she would've lived. And there was nothing to say that she did or did not have an eating disorder per se, like at that time. I couldn't find any credible sources from 2009/2010 that she did have an eating disorder. All I could find was like “Brittany Murphy is looking really skinny” and that that’s… as a person– I’ll go out and say it– who has struggled with like eating disorders in the past, I will never say this person had an eating disorder, this person didn’t. I could not find Brittany Murphy coming out and saying that she had an eating disorder. This is all speculation. Even if it comes from a doctor, even if it comes from her dad, speculation. I’m not a doctor. Before her death, both Brittany and her husband Simon Monjack believed that they were being watched by the US government, and Brittany was reportedly a witness to Julia Davis, the Homeland Security employee who called out some of the problems within the organization. So that was kind of like a part that I– people are like “oh she could’ve been murdered, taken out by the government.” And I really didn't know where to put this note in, because it was kind of like she was saying it before she died as well, and she was, I think, a little paranoid from this. Also before her death, Simon and her mother were both sick in Puerto Rico. Brittany was filming The Caller, they went along for a vacay and things just turned nasty. You get sick, that's also like just like a common thing… getting sick on vacations. However, she was reportedly fired on like the first day and some kind of like pointed to her husband causing a nuisance on set for being like drunk and such. So things are just like being very weird. Like a lot of first like the government coming in thinking that she was being followed or watched and now being on a film set and her husband causing a huge disturbance. And sometimes still while on this island, like I said Simon and her mother got sick, so much so that on the flight home, Brittany had to give her husband CPR. And someone, I believe it was Simon claimed he was having a mild heart attack. So again we have this heart attack cause of illness coming back. So of course we get to the part where Brittany now gets a little cold, and it isn't just a little cold. She gets laryngitis. Apparently she got her second period in a month, hence the anemia. A lot of list of just the dominoes hitting the fan of she was essentially sick for six weeks, which takes a toll on any body, regardless of if you were healthy before or not. And she even had a doctor's appointment for the Monday after she died and I believe she died like on a Friday night at home. So fast forward a few months to now her husband dies, of like similar causes. And this was also sketchy because not only did he die like in the same room, same bed, his death was also ruled as quote “severe anemia and acute pneumonia.” So now like bells should be ringing off like what the fuck what the fuck, this is just a few months after her. And another weird part was that there was like an alleged scandal that he also had a relationship with her mother. Things are not adding up. Just to like wrap this whole thing up, like her father said in one of his last interviews he just didn't feel right. This didn’t sit well, and he continuously made allegations against other family members, and he just really wanted to get closure on her death. And that's basically where it ends– where it’s we don't know, we just now have all this new information and people like Investigation Discovery documentary episode are just trying to put it together. Alana: That's a heavy one. Archival Audio: From the Middle Ages, down to modern times, the magic of chemistry has fascinated mankind. Alana: So I don't have a content warning for this one aside from like she died when she was young and that's hard to talk about. Alice Augusta Ball was born on July 24, making her a Leo, 1892 in Seattle, Washington. I'm gonna make that my thing that I just note the star signs of my ladies. Both of Alice's parents and her grandfather were photographers, which meant that because of like photographic technology in the late 19th century Alice grew up around the chemicals that were used for developing photographs at the time. In 1902, when Alice was ten, they all moved to Honolulu, hoping that the change in climate might alleviate her grandfather's arthritis and other medical conditions. Alice's grandfather died two years later and the family moved back to Seattle where Alice graduated high school in 1910 with stellar, amazing, incredible, top of her class grades. She earned a degree in pharmaceutical chemistry in just two years and then a degree in chemistry in four years, both from the University of Washington. She went back to Hawaii to get her master's degree in chemistry from the University of Hawaii which was then called College of Hawaii. She was the first woman and the first Black woman to get a master's degree from the university of Hawaii. She graduated in 1915 and then that fall she became head of the chemistry department. Her thesis was about isolating the active ingredients in kava root for medical purposes, and this is why Dr Harry Hollmann, an assistant surgeon at the local hospital, sought her help. At the time, the best treatment for Hansen's disease, A. K. A. leprosy, was a pill or an ointment made from chaulmoogra oil, which was derived from the seeds of a tropical evergreen tree called the chaulmoogra. So isolating these active ingredients in plants would be an excellent skill to have if you were to research further on chaulmoogra oil and cures slash treatments for Hansen's disease. She juggled teaching and research as a twenty something. And the time management skills of this woman, that within a year she had created a water soluble solution of chaulmoogra oil which meant it could be administered directly into the bloodstream and be much more effective. It. Worked. The practice for people who had been diagnosed with Hanson's or leprosy was to group them together and isolate the group. This is where you get the phrase leper colony. One of my sources called this treatment only partially effective, but holy shit! Because of Alice, those people got to go home to their families. So I don't– partially effective? No. I hate you. I don't hate you, thank you for writing something that I could read for free, but come on. Alice died December t31 1916 at the age of twenty four, after a lab accident while she was teaching gave her chlorine poisoning because lab ventilation wasn't required yet. Her work was stolen. And this you'll see when we talk about– when I talk about Rosalind Franklin in January that stolen work of women in STEM is kind of a theme for me. Arthur Dean, the college president who took over her work after she died, but basically all he did was publish it, only mentioned her name once in the publication and started calling it the Dean Method. Luckily, Dr Hollmann was like “um. No ma’am.” and actively started calling it the Ball Method, and that's the name that stuck. And this method was used until the 1940s, so for twenty years, until sulfone drugs came onto the scene, and they work better or something. I… As previously mentioned, I am not a doctor. Just a little bit about her legacy, as of 2000, February 29 is officially Alice Ball day in Hawaii which… February 29? Really? The twenty ninth? A date that doesn't really exist? Come on. The University of Hawaii Manoa also offers the Alice Augusta Ball scholarship for students majoring in chemistry, biochemistry, biology, or microbiology. They also have a little plaque for her on their chaulmoogra tree, which is just small but I think it's cute. But Alice's work basically cured leprosy. And was just like– people weren't contagious and could go back to living with their families and living their lives and just being people. And then this is one of those things like in a general sense that I'm like, how many great, incredible, fantastic, smart, brilliant minds are we stifling due to systematic oppression? because Alice was so amazing and smart and was able to accomplish all of these things as a Black woman and overcame like– every single source that I read was like this was so strange for a woman, for a Black person, for a Black woman to be doing. So like, larger than anything that she personally could have done, which I think if she had survived this poisoning or if there were… if ventilation was a thing in labs, could she have found the vaccine for leprosy? That I don’t know whether or not we have. I can't really tell. They were working on it at one point according to one of my articles, that was in 2018 and it was promising so it might be done by now. But like what are we as a society missing out on by making life so difficult for anyone who isn’t a cisgender straight white man. Like all of these amazing… Lexi: Snaps. Snaps to that. Alana: Thank you. I'm very frustrated by systematic oppression these days. It's like Covid, systematic oppression, how systematic oppression is making Covid worse in places… Lexi: There's gonna be a Black woman in the White House. Alana: There’s gonna be a Black woman in the White House. Lexi: Just to make you feel a little better. Alana: I do feel better about that. Haley: It makes me so happy. Alana: I do like that. And then her husband is the first Jew in the White House. Haley: Really? Alana: Yeah. Haley: I really wish like we could've called him like the First Doug, because I feel like that's awesome. Yeah, the First Doug. Lexi: Second. Second, because it’s a VP’s spouse. It’s the Second. Alana: Yeah, Second Doug. Lexi: A Doug that really went up the ranks. Alana: I think the vibe that is going to end up happening is First Gentleman– Second Gentleman because that’s what they do for governors. Haley: But like I want Second Doug and then like forever it just be Doug. Lexi: Oh, it becomes Doug, even after. Haley: Yeah. Alana: I like that. Lexi: Kinda love it, it's like oh the Doug. Alana: I'm not a fan of Second Dude, I don't care for that I think that's like… Lexi: Yeah I don't like that. We need like a Spouse of President. No like a SOP. Alana: SOP! Lexi: You can find this podcast on Twitter and Instagram at LadyHistoryPod. Our show notes and a transcript of this episode will be on ladyhistorypod dot tumblr dot com. If you like the show, leave us a review, or tell your friends, and if you don't like the show, keep it to yourself. Alana: Our logo is by Alexia Ibarra, you can find her on Twitter and Instagram at LexiBDraws. Our theme music is by me, GarageBand, and Amelia Earhart. Lexi is doing the editing. You will not see us, and we will not see you, but you will hear us, next time on Lady History. Haley: Next week on Lady History, it's our U. S. Thanksgiving episode, and we’re doing a deep dive into Native slash Indigenous peoples’ history. [OUTRO MUSIC] Haley: Are raccoons like ducks where you can just like pick one up off the street? Lexi: That’s not true for ducks, we talked about this. You can’t steal wild animals.

#womens history #history

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maxolotl67 · 5 years

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children of dust and ashes

Triple H x Reader (gender-nonspecific)

Summary: Set in a Mad Max-esque future, a scrapper enters the court and good graces of a mysterious king.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: The following is VERY not safe for work. There is swearing and sex. Please read responsibly.

Notes: So, uh. This ended up being way too long. And porny. Oops. This is directly inspired by Triple H’s WM35 entrance, which I loved far more than is probably healthy. Title comes from a song in Natasha, Pierre, & the Great Comet of 1812, a highly underrated musical.

Coughing weakly as a breeze kicked up a dust cloud, you shielded a hand over your eyes and scanned the horizon. Nothing for miles save desert and rock.

No one knew you were gone yet, but it wasn’t likely to stay that way for long. With any luck, maybe they would forget about you and drive off in the other direction. But that would still leave you stranded.

Shade. Water. Options. Three very important things that you currently lacked. Still, it was better than staying and risking death. Or worse. You resolved to keep walking, quickly and quietly and as far away as possible.

Minutes stretched out into hours. Maybe even days. Your feet hurt, there was dirt in your eyes, and you’d long since lost track of which tire tracks were the ones to avoid following. Had the sun moved at all? You couldn’t remember. The horizon stayed the same no matter which way you turned your head. Was this hell? Had you died in that ramshackle camp and this was your punishment? That distant growl was probably the devil’s hound out for your blood.

Wait. Growl?

Far off to the south, the horizon had suddenly changed. You were no longer alone. Over the crest of a dune came a single solitary wagon, its engine baying like an angry predator. It seemed to be heading north - that was, until it made a sudden turn straight for you.

You wanted to flee, but every part of your body screamed in protest at the idea. It seemed unlikely that you could even get away or think to hide. You fell to your knees, exhausted. Hopefully this one would at least think to kill you quickly.

The car was clearly built for speed, exchanging size and practical armor for mobility and acceleration, yet the iron chains and barbed wire wrapped erratically around its sturdy frame suggested its builder was familiar with combat. There was only one rider. They wore a mask and hood, obscuring their face. You closed your eyes, resigned to your fate.

The engine fell silent. Two heavy boots hit the ground.

“Your reverence is appreciated,” a deep voice said, with more than a hint of amusement. “Though in your case, it isn’t necessary.”

Looking up and blinking against the light, you saw the rider had removed his hood and mask. He was a tall man, bald and muscular, with loose-fitting leather clothing, rust-colored eyes, and a commanding bearing. Your immediate reaction was one of awe - he was at once the most intimidating and the most intriguing person you’d ever seen. Perhaps this wouldn’t end in your death after all.

You shakily rose to your feet, politely refusing his outstretched hand when he offered it. “Why’s that? Are you a king?”

He smiled mysteriously. “The king of kings, baby.”

You groaned inwardly. Men. “If that’s the case, why are you out here alone? Don’t kings usually travel with an entourage?”

“Heard scattered reports of raiders traveling through our lands. Wanted to check for myself.” He squinted back in the direction you’d come from. “Small time, by the looks of it. Not worth bothering with just yet. You see them?”

“Came from their camp, actually. Bastards stole my wagon.”

He looked you over, raising an eyebrow. “Must not be a smart bunch, letting you out of sight. Why don’t you come with me and we can discuss it?”

Discuss? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Could this kingly stranger be trusted? Was this another cage waiting to happen? You sighed. Even if this man was a tyrant, riding with him back to wherever he came from sounded better than dying of thirst out here. “Fine,” you said after a moment. “Though I doubt I could tell you anything you don’t already know, your highness.”

That earned you a laugh. “Please, call me Hunter.” He gestured for you to take the gunner post. You did so with a satisfied smile.

Hunter threw the wagon in gear, and it set off back south with a mighty roar. Yours had barely held together even at the best of times, so it was a refreshing change of pace to ride on a rig built for speed. If you played your cards right, maybe you could score yourself a setup like this.

Over a number of dunes and through a maze of stones the wagon flew, until you came to the edge of a dried lake bed. Or was it a crater? At the center lay a massive fortress adorned with flags. You didn’t recognize the emblem from any of the groups you’d come across in the wasteland - black fabric with a big yellow X.

So, an insular society ruled by a reasonable king, with fast rigs, a presumably large force, and a willingness to talk with strangers? This would be interesting.

The garage was cool and dark, an instant relief from the hellscape you’d left behind. Again Hunter offered you his hand, but you climbed off the wagon yourself without a word. King’s guest or not, you wouldn’t be patronized to today.

“What’s the word, boss?” A voice called from a high catwalk. You couldn’t see their face clearly, though you did see an impossibly long braid dangling over the edge of the railing.

“Trouble brewing in the southwest,” Hunter called back. “Get Lorcan and Burch out there. I need numbers, I need defenses. No engagement, got it? Purely an assessment.”

The person with the braid gave him a lazy salute and skipped off. Hunter gave you a smile that left a fluttering feeling in your stomach. “One of my kids. Not literally, of course. You’ll get to know them.”

Of course. A large group like this would need a familial bond to stay strong. As you followed Hunter through a series of hallways, you took note of the dormitory-like rooms, a few small armories, even a communal kitchen. Maybe an extended stay here wouldn’t be completely awful.

The two of you came to a large space, clearly meant for group gatherings. The high ceilings and second floor walkway around the room you understood, but what you found most notable and most perplexing about the room was the raised square platform in the center, surrounded by ropes attached to posts. A combat arena? A space for the king to address his subjects? Both?

On this platform, two men were exchanging blows. Not hard-hitting ones, though. It looked like they were training, though to what end you couldn’t guess. Hand-to-hand fighting wasn’t common in the wastes, or at least that was the case with the raiding groups you’d met.

“We have a guest,” Hunter boomed, stopping them in their tracks. “Johnny, stay here. Tommaso, I need Dream and Shayna in here now. See if Hanson and Rowe are back, we’ll need them too.” His tone was a lot different with his followers than it was with you. His authority definitely wasn’t to be challenged here.

The man with the grizzled beard nodded and ran from the room. The other jumped down from the ring with a smile. You saw then that his belt buckle was exceptionally large and made of what looked to be gold. It was marked with the same emblem you’d seen on the flags outside. “Johnny Wrestling,” he said, extending his hand to you. “Good to have you on board.”

“Don’t get excited,” Hunter corrected as he ascended the stairs on one corner of the ring. “They’re not signed just yet. Let’s hear their story before we decide anything.” You appreciated Johnny’s welcoming nature nonetheless, so you shook his hand politely.

A tough-looking woman entered the room, followed by a man draped in black linens. Both of them had belt buckles similar to Johnny’s, but otherwise their contrasting styles and demeanors almost made you laugh. If the people here were all this diverse, you’d fit right in.

“The Era’s been looking for you again, your highness,” the man drawled. “Always on and on about their rematches. Frankly, the Dream is tired of it.”

Hunter groaned, a long-suffering kind of sound. “Thank you, I’ll deal with them later. Everyone in the ring, now.” The three with the belts climbed between the ropes, until all the eyes in the room were on you and you realized that he had meant you too. Oh right, this was supposed to be about you. You scrambled in and stood awkwardly next to Hunter, who cleared his throat.

“As you know, since we’ve decreased the number of border teams there’s been a bigger need to keep an eye on movement outside our territory. Now, the last thing I want is to weaken our force by sending those teams back out there. What we need is to look into the possibility of more long-range recognizance. Outposts, checkpoints, whatever’s necessary to keep outsiders out of our territory. I want each of you to talk to your friends, have them talk to their friends, and start drafting plans. No idea is too small or too dumb. Have it on my desk as soon as you’re able.”

You were so caught up by Hunter’s expert calculations and contagious confidence that it took a moment to realize he’d turned to smile at you. “In the meantime, I’ve brought in someone you might call an expert. Our new friend here can give us a better idea about what goes on in just one enemy camp. Care to start from the beginning?”

Clearing your throat, you told them everything that you remembered about the raiders and their camp, from the details of your capture, guesses at their defenses and social structure, identifying markers and symbols, to numbers and potential weak points and how you’d escaped. You weren’t exactly a tactician, and it was hard to tell from their faces if they were impressed, but hopefully your information would be helpful to them in some way.

“And, uh. That was where your king found me,” you finished with a sideways glance to Hunter. “I’m glad he did. Without my wagon, my chances out there weren’t great.”

The corner of Hunter’s mouth formed part of that mysterious smile you were starting to like. “Well, you did well to make it as far as you did. Flying solo takes guts.” He turned to the others. “Let that be a lesson to everyone. You were once independents just like our friend here. You’re here now because you’re strong. Clever. Resourceful. The best at what you do. We will endure because of you. What’s our name?”

“N-X-T!” they shouted back, chests puffed and faces flush with pride.

“I can’t hear you,” he roared at them, beaming.

“N-X-T!”

“WHAT’S OUR NAME?”

“N-X-T!”

“Dismissed.”

Their determination was utterly infectious. As they filed out of the room, leaving you and Hunter alone, you were grinning. “Interesting bunch. Are all your kids like this?”

“Most of them. If they aren’t yet, they’ll get there with time.” Hunter stood opposite you in the ring and gestured to the walls around you. “That’s why I built this place. To shape the future. You know as well as I do that the wasteland doesn’t make warriors. It breaks them. Only by standing together do we have a chance to change the world.”

You hummed in careful consideration. “That’s quite a goal. You think you’re the one to make that possible?”

He smiled again. Damn that smile. How could a simple smile transform a face so completely? “I know that I am. And I know that everyone in this place believes it too. And I want you to help me make it happen.”

You blinked slowly. “Beg your pardon?”

As if impassioned by the mere utterance of his mission, Hunter stepped forward and took both your hands. “Stay,” he implored. “Train with us. I see in your eyes the same spark that laid the cornerstones of this place. The same spark that will ignite the flames of the future. You could be safe here. Food, water, a family to watch your back and help you grow into a champion. You could stand by my side as we build a better tomorrow.”

This was too good to be true. There was no way it could really be that simple. You were just a scrappy-looking scavenger, not a champion, and certainly not someone who could change the future. What was Hunter seeing in you that you somehow missed?

You exhaled shakily. “I don’t know. I...I don’t think I’m good enough for this place.”

The look in Hunter’s eyes was warm and reassuring. No one had ever looked at you like that before. “That’s alright. Give it a few days. If it’s not the right fit, you’ll know. For now, get down to the mess and get some dinner in you. Find Shawn. He’s my second-in-command, he’ll get you set up with your own bunk and a schedule.”

You’d only just arrived here, and already you were allowed to go places on your own? What a strange family. Hunter sent you off, saying something about royal duties awaiting him in his office, and you were eventually able to find your way through the narrow hallways to the expansive kitchen.

Shawn proved to be easy to locate. His laughter was uproarious and jovial, and the small crowd of young drivers behind him spoke to his respectability and experience. He knew you were Hunter’s guest before you said a thing - he waved it off as fast-traveling gossip - and after sitting down with you and a hearty bowl of stew, he peered over a pair of dusty glasses at a long list of names.

“Let’s put you in with Kushida for right now,” he said, scribbling a note. “He’s a newer face. Confident, experienced in the ring, and he needs a driver. You two can learn from each other.” Looking up, he flashed you a wry smile. “Boss must like you. He normally doesn’t bring in new blood unless he knows what they can do in the ring. You get a name yet?”

You frowned in confusion. “Name?”

“Yeah, your ring name! Or your family name, if you like. People who come here, or who are running away from what’s out there, they get a chance to start over.” Shawn gave you a roguish grin. “You think the king lets just anyone call him Hunter? That’s just for people he likes. His ring name is Triple H. Last poor sucker that called him Hunter without permission got two months kitchen duty. A name for you just means you’re part of the team now.”

Huh. You’d never considered the possibility of using any other name but your own before. But then, you’d never been a part of anything quite this meaningful before. Maybe this would be a good place to start over. To have a family.

You must have looked lost in thought, because Shawn then nudged you with an elbow. “Don’t stress about it too much. If you’ve got ideas, he’ll hear you out. He’s our king, sure, but he’s not a complete asshole, y’know?”

You nodded. That made sense. Just as you were about to ask more about Hunter, the doors to the kitchen swung open with a loud bang. Four men entered, looking very angry, and marched toward the front table where the gargantuan stew pot rested. One of them stopped and glared at you, his eyes a startling blue. You wondered what you’d done to earn his ire.

“You the new stray?” he asked. “His majesty wanted to see you after dinner.”

“Watch it, Cole,” Shawn warned. “Don’t make it worse for yourself.”

Cole, or whatever his name was, scoffed and sauntered away. You kept your head down, staring at the dregs of your dinner. Men like him didn’t scare you. There were more important things to think about. Like what your new name could be.

You stood outside the massive wooden door longer than was probably necessary. Every time you thought about raising your hand to knock, your stomach did a couple backflips. There would be no going back from this. Hunter was accepting you into his fold, more or less agreeing to care for you and train you to be a fighter. Someone who could stand with him without fear and face the future. Nothing you’d ever done before carried this much finality. Once you accepted your new name, this place would become your home, and Hunter would be your king.

A fleeting worry crossed your mind - what if he was disappointed in you, what if you failed to please him, what if he never spoke to you again after today - but you did your best to push it away. Unable to bear the waiting anymore, you knocked three times.

“Enter.”

You did, and the luxury that you beheld was instantly overwhelming. There was a cushy rug under your feet, the walls were lined with carefully crafted portraits and well-worn golden buckles, and the heady scent of incense hung in the air. So not only was this Hunter’s office, this had to be his personal room. Only a king would go out of his way to make his space as befitting of his station as possible.

Hunter sat in a massive chair behind a polish metal desk, bent over a stack of papers. He looked up when the door shut behind you and smiled. That was enough to get your heart pounding. “Settling in alright?”

“I’ll find my feet soon enough,” you replied with a huffed laugh. “What are you working on?”

He raised an eyebrow, and right away you felt sheepish, realizing he probably wasn’t used to being questioned so openly. It must not have bothered him too much, though, since he didn’t react beyond that. “Keeping records. Every driver, every match, every result needs to be kept for posterity. We don’t have much from the old world, so it’s important that we leave what we can for future kings.” He made another few scribbles before he set down his charcoal and smoothed his fingers over the immaculate surface of his desk. “That includes what you bring to us. Did Shawn explain our naming tradition to you?”

You nodded and swallowed. “I, uh. I did have a few ideas. But I’ll trust whatever judgement you make.”

Hunter rose to his feet, circling around the desk to stand in front of you. He was close enough to smell the incense on his skin. You tried not to think about it. “I always have time for new ideas. Let’s hear it.”

“Sparks.” Even now, it sounded like the most natural sound in the world. “Ty Sparks. If I am to spark the fires of the future, my name should inspire that.”

Hunter seemed to consider this for a moment, then smiled. “We sort of already have a Ty, but you’re on the right track. Sparks. I like that. What about Cadence Sparks?”

“Cadence. Cadence.” You rolled the sound around a few times in your mouth. It had a heroic feel to it. You beamed. “It’s perfect.”

“Then kneel.” You did so hurriedly, as Hunter placed a warm, heavy hand on the crown of your head. “Cadence Sparks, there are many warriors in this world, but none like you. Do you wish to stand with us and prove your worth?”

“I do.” Your heart hammered with excitement somewhere in your throat.

“And will you protect this family with your life just as we will protect you with ours?”

“I will.”

“And should you stand out among our ranks and become a champion, do you swear to defend your title with dignity and honor, setting the best example you can for the champions of tomorrow?”

“I swear.”

Hunter’s hand moved down, his fingertips skimming oh so gently over your cheek to cup your chin and tilt it up. It was like looking at him for the first time, the handsome king that came out of the horizon to save your life and change your world forever. “Rise, Cadence Sparks. And welcome to NXT.”

Suddenly overcome with emotion, you leapt to your feet and threw your arms around his neck. You panicked for a split second - this was most certainly not how you showed a king his due respect - but to your surprise, he embraced you back and chuckled into your hair. You felt your face flush a deep red. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“It’s alright,” Hunter murmured, as if he could hear your thoughts. “This is a big moment. It’s okay if you need to cry.”

You laughed. You knew you should probably have let go by now, but every second you held on, it got harder and harder to consider pulling away. Something about Hunter’s arms around you felt so safe, so warm, so much like home. “I just...I’ve never had a family before. Not like this.”

“Mmm. That’s what I love most about this place. The bonds that are forged here last forever.” You inhaled sharply, realizing that he had begun stroking the small of your back. “Some go deeper than others. Some may only exist in passing. But all are equally unbreakable.”

You swallowed, daring to hide your face in his neck. “Like...like this one?”

“Indeed.” Hunter pulled back a little, though he was still smiling, still holding you close. “Though, uh...I should warn you, there is an informal tradition for my personal recruits. Once they’re named and sworn in, I make the effort to personally make them feel welcome.”

Something about his words, combined with the gentleness and intention in his touch, set a deep heat stirring in your belly. Feeling emboldened, you moved even closer, your lips barely an inch apart. “I’m feeling pretty welcome already.”

“Then allow me to seal the deal.” Before you could blink, Hunter closed the distance between you, kissing you with a fierceness you’d never experienced before. His hands dropped to your hips, holding you in place. Not that you would even dream of pulling away now.

Pressing impossibly closer with a soft moan, you allowed your hands to wander, learning the defined slope of his shoulders, the smoothness of his chest, the hard strength of his biceps. Maybe this had been what you were looking for all along - not just a family, but even just one person you could place your whole trust into. Whatever Hunter asked for now, you knew you would do anything to make it happen.

Hunter’s mouth moved to claim other parts of your face and neck, all pretense of gentleness gone, his hands busy with removing both your clothes. It proved difficult to blindly shift over toward his bed with both of you unwilling to separate for longer than necessary, but he more than made up for it with his confident and knowing touch. Every inch of your skin that he covered felt electrified.

His fingers found the spot between your legs that made you cry out just as the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. But he didn’t let you fall back just yet. He pressed on that spot over and over, rough and desperate and everything you wanted. “You like that, baby?” he whispered hotly, briefly sucking the shell of your ear between his teeth. “Gonna let me do whatever I want, isn’t that right?”

“Yes!” you keened, too flushed with desire to think of how wanton you must have sounded. “Please, God, don’t stop!”

He released you when out of desperation you started to buck at his hand, standing over you for far too long, just looking, just taking the sight of you in. “God, look at you,” he said, lost in thought, a hand reaching down to palm his cock. “My perfect prize, all spread out for me. Gonna give it to you so good, baby.”

You whimpered, straining with the effort to keep your legs spread, shamelessly putting yourself on display. “Please,” you begged again. “I’m all yours. Whenever you want me. However you want me. Please, Hunter, touch me.”

“Careful. ‘M gonna want to keep you in my bed forever with talk like that.” At this point, you were very willing to consider that. He spat in his palm, and it was only a little disgusting, but he did at last put a hand on your hip. When at last he finally pushed in, all the breath seemed to leave your body at once. You had to close your eyes then, as the sight of Hunter inside of you, all around you, on top of you, was overwhelming.

He appeared to steady himself as well, just for a moment, before he began to thrust. Both his hands were on your hips now, holding you in place on the edge of the bed. You almost wanted to tell him to grip harder, to leave bruises, but at that point forming words was impossible.

You felt his mouth on your chest then, learning with his tongue what his fingers had mapped out only moments ago. You gasped when he hit a nipple, opening your eyes just in time to see his grin. “So fucking hot,” he murmured, thrusting hard enough to make you groan. “Say my name again.”

“Hunter,” you gasped. You reached down with one hand, unable to help yourself. “God, Hunter, that feels so good.”

“Yeah, that’s it, baby, touch yourself.” His thrusts were brutal now, almost boneshaking. You wouldn’t even have to ask for bruises this time. “Who’s your king, Cadence?”

“Fuck — you! It’s you, Hunter, you’re my king.” God, your name sounded so good in his voice. With your free hand you gripped the sheets, desperate to ground yourself, desperate to finish with him.

“You need to come, don’t you? Gonna come on your king’s cock? Show me, baby, show me how good you take it.” His breathing came sharply, but he didn’t take his eyes off of you. You’d never seen anything so beautiful in your life.

“Oh God, Hunter, I — “ But you couldn’t even finish your warning. You came with the force of an oncoming storm, hard and fast and forever stuffed into a few seconds. And just as the world seemed to right itself again, Hunter came inside of you with a guttural moan.

You both laid there for a while, just breathing, just memorizing each other’s warmth, the feel of each other’s skin. He arranged both of you under his blankets, which was a good thing, as you were still too boneless to be of much help. Thankfully he didn’t seem to mind. There were a few more words, a few more lingering and lazy kisses, but you fell asleep in his arms soon after, confident and assured that you were exactly where you belonged.

#triple h x reader #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #max writes about wrestling

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incarnateirony · 4 years

Text

Re: Ratings etc;

I saw questions crop up in regards to some TV Grim Reaper stuff.

A while back people may remember me posting about CBS and WB breaking their former legendary agreement with Netflix (x) -- and I don’t think the ramifications of that really set in on viewing eyes.

It isn’t coincidence that as quickly as has happened, Charmed has been moved to the Friday Death Slot. Previously, CBS-WB’s partner agreement with Netflix was a prime operation of Pedowitz’s CW. For reasons that ultimately boil down to merchandising tantrums by CBS, the two broke their partner agreement. This means that no longer do CBS properties (Charmed, Dynasty) that are god awful and failing have a default signed promise to get their properties onto Netflix, but they have to actually negotiate and shop products independently. This agreement used to have CBS, essentially as a parent company, slog a whole bunch of shitty products onto the CW to make use of the CW agreement, which put a smokescreen that let CBS properties run considerably lower in ratings before cancellation (SEE: CHARMED, AGAIN, or yes, Dynasty, notice BOTH OF THESE ARE MOVED TO FRIDAY NOW).

This also had direct impact on things like available TV dev space for Wayward (Eg: Moonves was a CBS exec and honestly the origin of the statement about not giving a shit that Dynasty ran shit poor ratings because CBS got to run with 100% of the digital profit promised to them).

(If Moonves sounds familiar, you may remember my original “reasons behind Wayward being cut last second” commentary which was, ironically, confirmed by Kim & Bri at a M&G a few weeks later by chance. When they mentioned Moonves a bunch of people probably had no idea what that meant; yes, the same Moonves that MeToo trended and is now no longer with CBS -- just to put icing on the shitcake. Like Deadass if he had MeToo trended half a year earlier we might be in a slightly less shitty AU where Wayward was airing.)

In regards to Grim’s token bitter and dismissive attitude that’s a bit of an online character, I think the biggest point to remember is that Grim outright slated SPN for “obvious renewal” last year (x) and even openly mocked the idea that ratings for it ever stumbled, and is instead reacting purely to the unpredicted final season announcement based on rule of thumb, rather than awareness of exceptions. TV Grim Reaper does not follow the production teams, or even the shows they talk about, and instead observe ratings patterns. Live ratings patterns indicated perpetual renewal, but since then Grim has struggled to identify why a show still powering onward would cancel.

Generally, if a TV show is popular the network will find some way to rotate cast etc (OUAT), but there are landmark shows where that simply doesn’t *work*. The precedent for this was set by Seinfeld which, while still being a TV leader back in its day cancelled, they knew better than to try to replace Kramer, George, Elaine, and--well, Seinfeld on Seinfeld when they decided to hang up their hats after a bajillion years.

The presumption that it must have been *failing quietly, digitally* is a fair one from the outside but not with observation of the last several years of production, most notably back end since early-mid S13 (about a month or two pre-Paley, or around when I stopped openly speccing the ending and stopped talking about demos/ratings, to date this if Paley seems intangible in historyscape). The only substantiative grounds for this is something that plagues literally the entire network, that being that the CW’s general marketing has been struggling for ad space value for years, but that affects shows A-Z in the end and the show remained a growing digital leader. This says nothing for it being one of CW/WB’s digital leaders in the likes of Game of Thrones and Walking Dead category, which mostly their DC properties (The Flash, etc) get the honor of but there’s SPN chugging along as a worldwide digital leader. (16-19, improving the last few years, I haven’t found S14′s numbers because I haven’t cared about tracking this for *reasons* since S13, but 11-13 in the very least)

The simple fact is: Everybody’s tired, the CW continues to be stupid (although at this point it’s more CBS’ fault but they catch the surface level impact of the Dumbz) and it was time to wrap.

I somehow doubt Netflix will decline to take on SPN again, considering its streaming power, but that says nothing about all the other shows CBS/WB want to make Netflix choke down without any merch rights. Or if these WB streaming platforms they’ve been trying to get off the ground will end up taking SPN unto itself and leave Netflix actually having to pursue it.

Though at the snails’ pace WB is figuring this out, failing DC platform included, it’s probably safe with Netflix for a few years until it stops being actively profitable enough to care. By the time WB gets a damn viable proprietary app together Netflix might not give a shit lmao

CW is designed to be a digital leader, WB is not and CBS knows how to market to baby boomers and that’s about it, so for now CW is trying to keep its center, which is probably why there’s been so much virtue signal marketing (done very badly) since the announcement.

The digital curve is the future of television and *why* live ratings are at rock bottom across the board. To understand the worth of digital weight in modern television please click this (x) but best summed up with “According to eMarketer, 55.1 million people will no longer watch traditional pay TV by 2022“

Of the 119.9m homes and 305.4m people in Nielsen’s estimated TV universe as of 2019, we’re talking losing 1/6th of classic TV viewers in the next year and in the same stretch, almost half of homes. And I hate to put it like this, these data points rarely take into account that some of the demo is old people dying, which ultimately accelerates the growth path and why every year some shit like this is “exceeding expectations.”

What was once CW’s strength has been cut out from under it which is why CW is trying SO HARD to define themselves right now instead of standard fare marketing that the last however-long was. You wanna know why the last like year or two are all dArE tO dEfYYYY rainbow flag of all of our straight leaaaaaaaaads it’s because CW is desperately trying to chisel out a network image now that their entire bankrolling system is fucked.

If SPN’s long-planned end point has to do with anything advert/money/marketing-wise, it’s that it’s going to be harder to bankroll under new methods than, say, DC properties, Because DC, for the level of operative costs; it’s less about SPN’s success and more about the network’s shortcomings and pitfalls all under a shiny new marketing mask. The fact that it’s season 15 and everybody’s #tired is a pretty major culprit too though. The incentive to keep finding ways to *make it work* just diminishes and you want it to finish strong.

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