#besides I thought we were going to be discussing the real problem with mass shootings
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Men are disproportionately arrested in general. Or murdered. Or die in general.
What does it mean. What does it matter. There's hundreds of little topics everyone is discussing already that flood such sentences to the point there is no argument being made, just pointing out reality for the actual sake of doing so.
Women commit suicide far more than men, women are more likely to win in parental cases, women aren't arrested nearly as often.
Again, what does this do? We already have the mini topics being discussed, this is an amalgomation of everything that doesn't make you look smart.
I think that's what people need to realize. You're not smart for pointing out the obvious. You're not smart for mentioning it and running away. You're not smart when all you can do is point out flaws with no fixes.
So, I ask of you, what is the purpose, what is smart about it, and what does it accomplish, pointing out that all mass shootings have been by men.
Now don't misconstrue me here, I too see the statistic, and would like to be informed on why. Except I already am because since 2013 the internet has had a boner for discussing every topic into a political umbrella as possible.
So I know that Men have less mental healthcare, Men have less emotional resources, Men are belittled, mocked, and thrown away like trash for crying or showing anything other than masculine bravado. I know that Men are disproportionately arrested by police, I know that divorce is worse for Men. I've talked to men who's lives were upended by a false claim from a women and the court took her side until it became obvious it was a lie.
I've talked to men. Actually discussed and discourced with them. I actually know what a majority of men go through. Not just because it's been endlessly discussed since 2013, but because I and every possible male has lived it.
I don't hear about women losing their kids to an insane man who ends up killing them later after a court custody battle allowed the child to go with the obvious worst choice. I do hear about men in general getting their entire life upended over false claims of any variety. You know what else I hear about Men? Total lack of a support system.
Know what else I hear about Men? A constant struggle to not have the wrong perception of you, because that can mean your entire life.
Men have to pay alimony even in ridiculous circumstances. Men lose their kids more often than women.
So with all this said, that hardly scratches any surface, it's far closer to pointing at the moon, Why is it, that all the mass shootings this year, have been done by men?
I mean, it's not like our systems give a fuck about men. It's not like Men have any outlets. It's not like Men are allowed to emotionally process without a court of law calling it irrational when they mean unmanly. It's not like the economy is destroyed, and women have ample opportunities for housing and mental healthcare, friends that'll take em in. There's women only homeless shelters, for a reason yes, but it goes to show.
Is the problem men? Personally, not trying to "both sides" this shit, but personally, I don't think inherently Men are all shooters, murderers and pedophiles. I think, and stick with me here, this country is broken from culture to government, from social to independant, this country is fucked. And despite progress socially, men are still the breadwinners in a majority of families. They are also, culturally pressured to be successful, rich, leave a legacy, own property and capitol, etc etc.
Women aren't expected shit culturally but being birth machines, and as fucked up as that is, no woman is going on a killing spree because of it. It's simply no where near the same pressure as males have to deal with. That's not to be offensive or to put down women, obviously there's shades of grey, but culturally, what are women really expected to accomplish? Get with a man, have a kid maybe.
So no. I don't see any importance in kicking in a door, dropping the statistic with literally no follow through, and running away screaming. I don't see the importance in devilizing all men and putting this weight onto them as if it's in their control.
Tell ya what, when the council of women can stop other women from false rape reports, the council of men will consider letting one (1) women commit a mass shooting.
Fuckin ridiculous. Drop statistics just to demonize. Why not just drop "despite making up" too? Wanna just look at numbers and ignore context? Did anyone who read that tweet ever speak to a man about their mental health and other slew of problems? No. They don't experience it, so don't care. The hypocrisy of feminism is not understanding the injustices of men to the point that when they see any man that breaks, or is unmanly, they are childish and unreasonable. Potentially murderous. They have no problems, they're on top! Those on top never deal with problems! (You're thinking of the rich, not men)
Really the only question that comes to everyone's mind is "what is wrong with men" much like the 13% argument also only leaves the same question to those of african descent. So. Why is it okay now? Why is it okay to point at a statistic without any surrounding information, frame it as poorly as you possibly can, unless you're just wanting to cause division between multiple groups?
It's not frustrating that it's men, I'd be annoyed regardless, animals, women, PoC, real statistics or not, what's frustrating is thinking you're smart for noticing a statistic, but not actually smart enough to offer anything but the number. Why? Answer that then post. Otherwise, it's just divisive and immature.
We went backwards because of that dipshit's tweet. It singlehandedly pushed republicans back further being posted unironically by lefties and to various lefty forums. Nobody. I repeat. N o b o d y, learned from this tweet. Nothing was gained by hostility. Just so they could feel smart. Totally worth the tweeter points...
#just boggles the mind#do women really simply not understand how much shit men deal with on a daily?#have women ever had to hold in tears before#for their entire life#have women ever had a false report tank their career and leave them homeless?#have women ever spoken to a divorced woman that goes on to explain how fucked up it was and they lost their kids despite the other parent#being a methhead?#have women#ever#spoken to men about their problems#the answer is unfortunately very much mostly no#because men speaking about their emotions gets their life upended#women and men#all races and ages#are not connected remotely as much as people seem to somehow believe#we're disconnected as fuck and our government fucks us all over in some way that causes sharp social issues and more#besides I thought we were going to be discussing the real problem with mass shootings#republicans#and guns#not men#fucks sake#the suicide by gun statistics is relevant too but meh#men#gotta focus on the REAL problems#not government failures#not social failures#not police failures#not cultural failures#just the council of men gatekeeping mass shootings#disturbed shit I simply will not understand
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Life's a Sick Joke pt 7
Pairing: Mick Mars x Reader
Would like to start from the beginning? Great! Here is Part 1!
Sidenote: As this story is under construction, I would like to warn you that those chapters which don’t have a proper title are written in the main caharcter’s POV!! Be aware!!! Be awaaare! I hope you will enjoy this storyas I did writing it, have a nice day and feel free to leave marks!
7. “He is my brother.”
"Mass shooting at concert. On the cover: photographer who is rumored to be with guitarist Mick Mars, jump in front of singer, Vince Neil from the famous metal band, Mötley Crüe. There was a mass shooting..." You read it out loudly from the newspaper. "So what?"
"I understood that you saved Vince because I would've done the same...but you could've called me!" He ranted taking the newspaper from your hand.
"See, Mick? Everyone understands me except you." He just rolled his eyes.
"By the way, why didn't YOU called me?" Dylan turned to Mick. "If she was blacked out, you could've told me. I thought you are a grown-up. I trusted you to take care of her." Dylan was so furious, you haven't seen him like this for a very long time. He stepped closer to Mick who glared at Dylan. "I trusted you, man." Mick looked ashamed.
"I'm sorry. I... I just..." Mick started to apologize but Dylan cut him off.
"Don't apologize. It doesn't matter, now." He huffed and his face was crimson red. You put your hand on his shoulder to calm him down but he drifted away.
"Don't dare to touch me, right now."
"Dylan..." His hand swang so quickly you didn't even have the time to blink. His fist landed on the wall just beside Mick's head. He was just as shocked as Tommy and you. "Dylan, stop!" You walked closer to him and pushed him away from Mick. You stood between the two of them. You placed your hands on his chest but he pushed you away again and made you fell over. If Tommy wouldn't have been there you would land on the ground. He held your arms strongly and smiled at you.
"Hey there." How can he be this fucking tall?
"Thanks, Lee."
"Are you out of your MIND? You could've hurt her. It's okay if you hit me, but don't dare to hurt her like that again." Mick rushed to you and cupped your face with his hands. He brushed his thumb over your cheeks and pressed a kiss on your forehead. "Are you okay?" He whispered.
"Yeah, and you?"
"Don't worry about me." You glanced at Dylan who had his hand on his mouth and his eyes were wide.
"(Y/N), I'm so sorry." He glared at his hands. "I don't know why I did that. I'm so sorry." He lowered his head, put his hands in his pockets, and ran away.
∆
"Anyway, do we know anything about the shooter?" You were laying on the couch with Mick, whom with you discussed everything, he also apologized for his behavior after Dylan's burst out.
"No, but I think everyone knows who was it. At least from which religion." Mick muttered with anger. He pulled you closer to him and placed a kiss on your forehead. It was his new habit. Not that you were complaining. He was sure the new album was the reason for the attack.
"Can I ask something?" Vinnie asked from the bed you were supposed to lay on. He was laying there and was staring at the ceiling. "Back at the auditorium, you said that you had been through worse. What did you mean by that? I mean, what worse could happen to you?" You sighed and instantly regretted saying that. Mick also glanced at you and Tommy and Nikki paid all their attention, too. You slowly sat up and ran your fingers through your hair.
"Do I need to tell you? Cause it's not my favorite topic." Thank Satan Mick realized that you don't like to talk about past stuff so he kinda let it go. He accepted as your present self and didn't care about your past. But now that you have a "new" friend who is curious as fuck, he will constantly piss you off with the smallest things.
"Yeah. We want to hear it." Tommy yelled and you felt Mick's hand on your back and was playing with the end of your hair.
"Goddamn, okay. So as I have already told or not told you I didn't have the most beautiful childhood. Just like you, Nikki." He glanced at you and gave a sad smile. "Our parents honestly didn't give a fuck about our wellbeing, or anything. When sometimes they realized about our existence they either hit us or yelled at even if we didn't do anything wrong. There was a night when Dylan and I looked after our sister...I was about 10 years old I guess, and Dylan was a bit older than me. Our parents slept at that time of the day. We managed to wake up Izzy and she woke up our parents, too. They were furious as hell and my dad even hit Dylan, even if he aimed me... Later my dad grabbed his knife and cut me with it." You sighed. That dream just brought up some memories you wished you could forget.
"What the hell?" Vinnie yelled. "Where are they? I wanna meet them."
"Let me finish it. The funny part just comes, I promise." You chuckled. "So, later, in the hospital I and Dylan had to lie that I fell over with a knife in my hands. They didn't believe it due they saw Dylan's bruise but both of my parents were joking about how clumsy I was." You lowered your head and played with the side of the blanket. They didn't say a word. They were both looking at you with open mouths. "Hey, but they are not part of my life anymore and I'm here and alive! And now I have a real family. You guys."
"Ohh we love you, too, Cooper." Tommy approached you and helped you stand up. He hugged you so tightly you were afraid your patch would bleed again. But fuck it. It was your moment and nothing or no one could ruin that. All the boys gathered and hugged.
"Okay, now it's enough." Mick spoke up and you burst into laughter. You turned to him and kissed his lips. He kissed you back more passionately than you expected. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. If I would've known..."
"Shhh. Don't worry." You kissed him one last time.
"Yuck. It's disgusting. Get a room, guys." Vince whined and you couldn't help but smile into the kiss.
"I think he is right." Mick whispered so quietly that only you could hear it.
"Hmm. Agreed." You smirked.
"We can hear you guys, you know." Nikki spoke up and crossed his arms.
∆
"Is this Mrs. Mars?" The famous lady whom everybody talks about?" Izzy giggled on the phone.
"You are not funny. So, I'm not calling you just for small talk. Do you know anything about Dylan?" You got in the middle.
"Nah...why would I know? Why I supposed to know?" She giggled nervously.
"Don't lie to me, little miss. You know something."
"I don't."
"You do. Literally, I raised you so I know exactly when you are lying, even if I'm not present. So what is it? It's about his job or what?" Dylan's behavior scared the shit out of you. He never hurt you or was angry at you. Like, this angry.
“Err. Dylan will kill me if I tell you."
"Me, too if you won't tell me. Oh for the fuck's sake I will convince him that I forced you." You snapped walking around as the wire let you.
"Sooo... Dylan has been acting strange lately. And on the weekends when I'm at home he is out..quite often. And when I asked him where is he going he just sent me to hell and left the house."
"So he is going to parties?" You raised one of your eyebrows.
"Who are you talking to?" Mick asked who found you after you worried yourself sick about Dylan and searched for a phone to call your sis if she knows anything important.
"Just Izzy." He hugged you from the back and placed a kiss on your shoulder.
"Oh Hey, Mick!" She greeted the guitarist.
"Hello." Mick greeted back.
"So back to the story, please."
“Well, one night I asked my friend to spy a little bit. We followed him to a bar, where he just sat down and drank."
"So that's the big story?"
"No. He drank so much I have never seen anyone drink this much. He was completely unaware of his actions. He almost got into a fight, too." You bit down your lip and started walking again to calm yourself down. You felt Mick's eyes following each of your steps.
"Hmm. And then what happened?" You started playing with the wire of the phone.
"I told my friend to go home and I will handle him. When I approached him he shouted at me and was angry as hell. Although he told me to leave him alone I helped him walk home. We sat down and I forced him to tell me what the fuck is going on with him."
"And?" You were on the edge of crying. You leaned on the wall and shut your eyes. You squeezed your forehead with your fingers.
"I don't know even if I have to tell you this. Or how to say it." Isabelle was insecure about it. She knew that you would freak out, but maybe it was Dylan's only chance to get back to normal.
"Oh come on. If you started then finish it." You yelled on the phone.
"He has problems. Anger problems. Like our dad used to have. And he is coping with it with drinking. After he told me he started crying and shaking. I had no idea this thing could be inherited." Your chest was heavy and tears ran down your cheeks. Mick just looked sorry and he gave you an encouraging smile, not knowing the situation.
"It seems it can." You muttered.
"And he told me that he went out so often because he didn't want to hurt me. He pisses off of the smallest things, well at least that's what he told me. And we both know I can be pretty annoying. Anyway, what made you call me?"
"Because Dylan was here. And he was so outraged. He almost hit poor Mick." He took your hands into his and placed a kiss on it.
"Did he hurt you?" She asked.
"No. Well, he pushed me a little but Tommy caught me. Nothing serious. You know we always did that."
"Yeah, I can remember. You two beat each other like professionals." You smiled from the thought of it.
"Do you have any idea where he can be?"
"Well, there is one place you can find him, now."
∆
"No way you are going there alone!"
After you hang up with Izzy you told Mick the whole story. He eagerly listened to you patiently while you tried your best not to cry. "You are not even allowed to leave the hospital yet!"
"I will talk to Dr. Prince Charming and finally ask him when can I go. I think they have already done so many tests that I don't have much blood remaining and I feel good, too so it doesn't have any sense to stay here more. And I'm already fed up with this place. I wanna go home...well at least away from here, from these people." You complain Mick the whole thing under one breath. He just rolled his eyes but you hoped he now got it.
"So after you are free to go you really think you can find him?" He asked not believing you.
"Yeah."
"Then I'm coming with you. I won't let you there alone."
"He is my brother. He won't hurt me."
"Hmm. Really? Then he was just joking around yesterday?" He crossed his arms.
"You can be a pain in the ass sometimes, you know that right?" You murmured.
"I know, babe. And that's exactly why you love me." He put his fingers under your chin and kissed you. "Dr. Prince Charming, huh?" He asked a few minutes later.
"Yes. But I'm more like a Dark Knight person." You smiled at him and wiped away his hair from his face and kissed him back.
∆
You were walking down the avenue along with all the boys since they wanted to go to a bar and neither of them wanted to leave you alone with Dylan. You told him you don't need them there because it's family business but they insisted.
"Then please behave, okay? And don't hurt him!" You scolded them but they just laughed.
"Okay, mom." Tommy saluted and looked at you with puppy eyes. Mick let go of your hands while you punched Tommy in the shoulder. While you were beating him, Mick walked farther and stopped in front of a pub. He looked at you and lowered his head.
"What? Oh no." You looked through the glass and then you saw him. Dylan was sitting at the bar and he had a big bottle of Jack Daniel's with him. Half of it already missed and he was pouring more for himself. He looked miserable and he supported his head with his hand. When you wanted to enter, Mick grabbed your hand. "Hmm?"
"Are you sure you want to talk to him...in his condition?" He looked deep in your eyes.
"I'm completely sure." You glared at him, escaping from his grip.
"Then ladies first." He opened the door and put his hand on your back to support, both physically cause your wound still hurt like hell and also emotionally. When you approached him you hesitated. You gave Mick a final look and cleared your throat. You didn't want to scold him why he hadn't told you, just help him handle this situation.
"Khm. Dylan?"
"What do you want?" Well, you were disappointed by this answer, but not surprised. He was devastated.
"Can we talk? Please." You tried to smile but he didn't even look up from his glass. "Dylan, come on. Don't be childish!" You poked his shoulder playfully.
"Me, childish? You are the one talking?" He huffed and pure more whiskey in his glass.
"Why are you doing this?" You asked crossing your arms. You started to get a bit annoyed. Mick pulled you closer to him. Nikki, Tommy, and Vince found a table in the back of the pub but they were all watching the scene.
"What? You tell me." He took a sip from his drink, but as soon as he put it down you took it and the bottle, too.
"Dylan Cooper, at least listen to me while I'm talking to you. And we will talk about whether you like it or not! So you don't have anything to say to me? Why you are drinking like it's the most obvious thing early in the morning?"
"Give it back." He needed the drink. He didn't want to hurt you and it was the only thing that was able to hold him back.
"Answer. Then I will give it back."
"I said GIVE IT BACK!" He shouted and stood up from the chair. His face was inches away and you felt Mick's grip tightening on your hand. The boys were approaching you.
"NO. And don't make a scene. Everybody is watching us."
"I don't give a FUCK if everybody's watching. I give them a show like your new boy does." He turned around and pointed at Mick.
"Leave him out of this! Let's go outside! Please." Finally, you made him come with you and were outside now. The others came along, too looking serious. If it wasn't this situation they might look funny. But this wasn't the time for that.
"So?"
"What do you want to hear? That I'm sorry and I won't do it next time?"
"What are you talking about?"
"That I hurt you. And your new pets come with you to save you from me. From your OWN brother who defended you from your parents and gave you the home you can live in and everything. I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING!" As he let out his anger he started to cry.
"I don't give a damn if you hit me. And don't insult them. I told them to stay at the hotel but they came nevertheless. Please, Dylan, tell me what is going on with you! Let me help you. Please."
"Why are you treating me if I were a little child or a drug addict, huh? Do you treat them like this, too?" He gestured towards the boys.
"We are here and hear everything, you know." Nikki spoke up.
"Yeah man, don't talk about us like this. We have feelings, dude." Tommy added.
"Whatever. So let's make things clear, (Y/N). I don't have any problem and I don't need help. I'm an adult man who does whatever he wants. And if you can't accept it then leave me the hell alone! I don't want to see you or hear from you! Go around and kill yourself if this makes you happy. I don't care." He took a deep breath and walked away.
You heard a sound.
It was your heart. into a million pieces.
Next chapter
Tags: @cmft-jr-winchester @leatherandheels
Tbh that's not why I originally planned. But that happens when the characters come alive and do whatever the hell they want to do.
#motley crue#nikki sixx#tommy lee#vince neil#80s music#80srock#mickmars#rocknroll#glam rock#life's a sick joke#life is a sick joke#mick mars x reader#mick mars imagine#mick mars#motley crue x reader#motley crue imagine
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in today’s update, nick and kim discuss why they shouldn’t kill the guy who probably deserves a righteous death-by-asskicking. nick is sort of an over-thinker, which usually puts him in tailspins, but thankfully kim and him have worked out a balance that keeps both of them afloat.
anyway, uh, there’s another chapter that could technically be added to this one but damn it i want to keep an update schedule for at least a few weeks lol. i’m still trying to figure out kim’s voice, a lot of the time i write her and end up pulling a softer fo5 marcy, which is... not accurate at all. so i’m working on her! also, i can’t write children too well so carmina tends to be like “fuck this i’m goin hunting” so oooo that should work out for me.
i hope you enjoy, please consider reblogging if you do! the full text of the chapter is below the cut, in case you don’t wanna go off-site. (yo, if you see a mistake please let me know, i’m pushing this update out before a bunch of errands so i might’ve messed up the formatting or a word or something)
Nick dreads every step he takes back down to the kitchen, but they only have a little while before Grace brings Carmina back. They need to make a plan before then — even if they're not going to kill John Seed, they're going to have to do something with him.
Kim is in the kitchen, taking her anger out on the vegetables she's picked. Nick can imagine his neck snapping as easily as the wimpy little carrots do, swallowing as he steels himself for the hard choices about to come. He'd sworn up and down that he was going to live a simple life from here on out, and yet here he is, bringing trouble in with him like a stray goddamn cat. Not even considering the safety of his family, or the feelings of his wife — or his friends , because what is Grace gonna say about all this? They have to tell her, right? And what about Jerome? Not to mention the other survivors. God — the list of people he's betraying grows by the second!
"Carmina will be back soon," Kim says, breaking another carrot into quarters. "We need to deal with John before then."
Despite her hostile tone, Nick doesn't think she means kill the guy. He hopes she doesn't. Nick will do it , of course — he can't expect Kim to clean up his mess — but he can barely stomach the guilt thinking about it. God, what if she tells him to do it? The man wouldn't even be able to fight back. Nick's never had to kill someone who couldn't fight back .
"Hey," Kim calls out, soft but firm enough to shake him out of his thoughts. "It's going to be okay."
"Yeah, I know," Nick replies, the words spilling out. "Just — I really messed up, Kim, what the hell was I thinking? I saw him lying there, I had my gun in his face and I decided to put us all in danger, because why ? Because I felt sorry for him? I should've done something differently. I should've..."
Kim has this way of smiling that never fails to pull Nick out of even the worst thought spiral. She uses it on him now, tiny crows-feet crinkling beside her eyes as she comes around from the kitchen. "There are a lot of things we could have done differently," she says gently. "We spent six years in a bunker learning that lesson. Six years un learning all of the bullshit the cult forced on us." She reaches him, taking one of his hands up in both of hers. If there's an easy solution she can see that Nick can't, she doesn't tell him; she only sighs and admits, "I don't blame you. I don't know if I could have done it, either."
"Well, at least I know I'm not the only one who's gone soft." Nick looks back towards the stairs, as if John might somehow crawl out of the spare room and demand they hand over the house. "The question is, what do we do now that we got him here?"
"Well..." Kim's shoulders slump with a resigned sigh, as she also turns to look up the stairs. "I mean, there aren't a lot of options that don't end with us shooting him. It's not like there's a court to try him in, or anyone left to hold him accountable."
Nick shrugs. "Maybe that was the plan? Maybe he thought he could outlive the consequences of his bullshit."
"I'm definitely in favor of shooting him if that's the case. I'm surprised he outfoxed the deputy, much less that he survived for this long."
"I don't think I'd call whatever he's been doing surviving ." Nick gestures up the stairs. "You saw the guy. All I know is that I found him next to an open bunker that smelled like a mass grave. I mean, Dep... Dep said they put him down. They wouldn't have left him alive somewhere. Right?"
"They never were big on murder," Kim points out. "Or revenge."
"God, if they fuckin' stashed him away after everything he did..." Nick exhales heavily; he's getting too worked up about a hypothetical situation. "I guess it doesn't matter. They couldn't've known what was gonna happen." No matter how often Joseph or his fucked up family would tell them otherwise, the Deputy had never been big on religious zealotry, and the concept of the end of the world had seemed impossible to them at the time. They hadn't been a fan of killing the Seeds outright, not if they could be brought to justice, but they had never been given the chance. Well, that's what Nick thought, anyway. Now, he's not so sure that Rook didn't play some key decisions too close to their chest.
"Okay, okay," Kim cuts through his thoughts, "Let's just focus on the information we have for now."
"Easy for you to say," he sighs. But, she's right, of course she is, so Nick sighs again and shakes his head to clear away the random what-ifs he's been conjuring up. "Okay, so — the facts. Right."
"You said you found him in a bunker?" Kim prompts.
"Near a bunker. He'd made a... I mean, it wasn't a camp . But he was living topside for at least a couple days. My bet is he crawled in there after the plane went down."
"He must have run out of food at some point and had to come up," Kim suggests.
"Yeah, for all the good that did him. Though I guess it might be better starving to death topside instead of pre-buried."
"Maybe if we're lucky, he'll starve before we get around to feeding him," Kim sighs, although she sounds too resigned to be hopeful of an easy outcome. "Although it'd be hard to explain to Carmina and Grace why we're burning a corpse..."
"Oh, man," Nick groans. "What do we tell Grace? And what are we gonna do about Carmina? She can't go anywhere near that psychopath. Even if he's too weak to hurt her, I don't want him giving her... weird ideas or something."
Kim hesitates. "Grace won't be forgiving. If we tell her, she won't consider another option."
Nick hates the idea, but not enough to keep from considering it. Grace wouldn't hesitate; she would do what needs doing and she would only wonder why it took her coming along for it to happen. And if they don't tell her, they won't just be keeping John a prisoner — they'll be harboring him from the justice he deserves. They'll have to keep him hidden from everybody, even strangers. The alternative would be to put the burden on somebody who doesn't deserve it.
"I don't think I've got the guts," Nick admits shamefully. "I feel sick just thinking about it."
He hopes that Kim has a stronger stomach than him, but she only sighs and nods. "I'm not sure it's the right choice. I'm not even sure there is a right choice. But — for the sake of fairness, he should at least be able to defend himself."
"We've gone soft," Nick chuckles. "Back in the day, we'd have busted his teeth in just for surviving."
Kim gives him this look, like maybe she's always seen him as soft, but he doesn't mind it coming from her. "So," she asks, "What do we do with him once he's well enough to be a problem?"
"Hopefully, he does something to inspire some righteous, old-world justice before then."
"Considering his track record, I won't rule that out. But... Ugh. I don't even want to say it." Kim rubs her face with both hands, pacing in a small circle. "Eight years is a long time to plan in. He could have any number of... of plots, or hidden caches, who knows what? If we don't kill him, there's a real chance that he might use our kindness against us." Kim's frown is heavy enough to pull her whole face into it as she turns back to Nick. "It wouldn't be the first time."
"We'll keep him in the nursery. He'll be under lock and key, 24-7, until we can figure out what his deal is. If he turns out to be plotting some kind of second cult uprising or, I dunno... resurrecting Joseph from the grave, we'll put him out of everyone's misery. Which, let's face it, is the most likely outcome."
"And if he doesn't? How long can we keep him prisoner up there? I mean, Nick... our food supply isn't exactly stable, and he's another mouth to feed on wimpy carrots and mushy turnips. Summer's almost over, and last winter was hard enough without four of us."
Nick chews his lip. Looks back towards the stairs, wondering whether John can hear what they're saying, if he's cognizant enough to understand the position they're putting themselves in on his dumb behalf. "And then there's all the stuff we gotta get done before then," he sighs, thinking of the myriad chores and home improvement projects he's put off in order to focus on basic survival. "Hell, I don't know, Kim. Maybe we can put him to work when he's able to stand upright. Give him all the jobs Carmina's too young to do yet."
"We do need somebody to dig this house out of the dirt," Kim suggests. She's mostly joking, even though it's extremely true — they haven't had time, energy or interest enough to do more than a cursory sweep to clear the stairs. "And you've been talking about fixing up the hangar again..."
"All manual labor that I can oversee with a rifle," Nick says. "John owes us — seems only right that we take what we need."
"Assuming he'll cooperate."
"He's not going to have much of a choice."
Kim frowns. "If he doesn't, are you sure you can handle making him?"
Nick should probably be offended, but she's right to ask. Truthfully, Nick's not sure he can be intimidating enough to sway John into listening to him. The guy is a fucking maniac, after all — other than pain and revenge, there's not much that gets him up and moving. Nick doesn't have an ace up his sleeve that can outdo the Cult. That doesn't mean he's not gonna try — it just means he's going to have to try harder than John deserves.
"I'm gonna have to be. Look, after Carmina gets back, I'll take up some food and see if he's willing to talk. We'll just... go from there."
"You've always been good at improvising," Kim hums. She's got a smile on her face that Nick's never seen before, something sad lingering in her eyes as she gives him a curious look over. "I love you, you know," she tells him, as if she hasn't said it a dozen times this week alone.
"I love you too," he replies. "And I'm sorry I brought this on us. I'll make it right."
" He'll make it right," Kim says. "Or we'll shoot him."
Nick laughs. "Yeah, or we'll shoot him," he repeats, pulling Kim in for a long, tight hug. Nick's not sure if it's old age or being a father that's softened him so much, but he's sure it hasn't softened him enough to keep him from doing whatever might need to be done. All he can do is hope that John won't put that to the test.
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Unfinished Medical Procedures Fic
In which Lin takes Alex to see a neurologist and has a series of brain tests done (EEG and MRI) to make sure nothing more serious is wrong. I wrote this last January while I was snowed in and highly productive. This was before I knew what in the verse to write and was doing a little of everything. I stopped working on it when “Where You Started” took over and demanded all my attention. At this point it’s been so long that I don’t know if I’ll ever go back to it, but it has some really nice moments that deserve to see the light of day, so here it is.
They are at first neurologist appointment, discussing tests he wants to run before prescribing medication to prevent migraines.
“It’s not at all scary, not like the MRI,” the doctor reassures them after expressing the need for an EEG. “All that happens is we attach electrodes, which look a bit like watch batteries, to different parts of your head with washable glue. Each one is attached to a wire that records the brain signals. You’ll just lie on a bed for an hour and your parents can stay with you.”
It’s starting to become a thing that every doctor they see refers to them as Alex’s “parents”, “Dad” or “Mom”. They’ve given up on correcting it.
“Now one part of an EEG that is challenging is that we intentionally put the brain under a lot of stress to increase the likelihood of catching unusual activity.”
Lin’s eyes widen at this and he gives Alex’s knee a squeeze. As if he doesn’t have enough stress on his brain already.
“What exactly does that mean? Can it be done without that?”
“It would just be a waste of time and money to be honest. The biggest aspect of this is sleep deprivation. For teens this means staying up for at least 24 hours beforehand.”
Alex full on rolls his eyes at this. Even Lin has to crack a smile. Alex would consider being allowed to stay up all night a special treat.
“I saw that look. It’s noted on his health history he has insomnia. Is staying up like that typical for Alexander?”
“Very. If we aren’t policing him Alex will go a full week with only a couple of hours of sleep.”
“That does not sound at all healthy and increases my worries about unusual brain activity. I’d be interested to see what’s going on in his head when that’s happening.” Wouldn’t we all. “If we’re going to do this, it’s best to do it right. Do you think Alexander could tolerate going 48 hours?”
“Alexander’s right here, you know!”
Lin grins. He loves Alex’s sassy side.
“What do you think Alex?”
“Please. That’s cake. I can go longer if you want.”
“No!” Lin and Vanessa say at the same time.
Alex is confident in his ability (and likely ecstatic to be allowed to stay up that long), but Lin can’t help but be nervous that this might not end well.
There’s a catch. Of course, there’s a catch. When Lin finally reads through the info packet on the test the night before Alex starts the sleep purge one detail jumps out at him: absolutely no caffeine.
Alex’s entire existence is powered by mass quantities of caffeine, which is one of the many things they have in common. Him and Vanessa have figured out that even when Alex is home sick or recovering from a bad migraine he still needs coffee, or else caffeine withdrawal symptoms get added to his illness. With all his anxiety cutting back on Alex’s consumption has been on the “things with Alexander that need to be addressed” list for a while now, but they haven’t gotten to it yet. Partially because that would mean Lin going through coffee detox with him to avoid looking like a huge hypocrite and partially because then they would lose their most powerful Alex negotiation tool. Need to convince him to do something he doesn’t want to? Bribe with extra coffee. Need to get Alex to stop an unhealthy behavior like refusing to go to bed? Threaten to take away his coffee. In their defense they are very new to this whole parenting thing.
He does try to convince Alex to back out of this and just do the twenty-four hours, but once Alex gets something in his head as a personal challenge there is no backing out.
The pamphlet recommended having an adult stay up with him to make sure he doesn’t sleep, but they all know that with Alex on the first night it’s not at all necessary. They’ll save that for the second night, if for nothing else then to keep him company and show solidarity.
The next morning over breakfast all Lin has to do is take one look at Alex to know this is proving more difficult than they had anticipated, taking in how pale he is and the already increased size of the bags under his eyes.
“Alex, you’re not going to school today.”
“What? No, I’m fine.”
“Even so, I’d really prefer if you didn’t, mijo.” He wants Alex near him just in case something goes wrong.
Lin’s concerned that if he leaves Alex home alone he might accidently fall asleep, which would normally please him, but that would just mean having to start this whole thing all over again. However, since Alex isn’t actually sick, Lin can’t quite justify taking the day off with him (given how many times he’s done that already), so he quickly comes to the decision to have Alex tag along with him all day. Besides it would probably be better if Alex was up and about doing things all day.
[Insert fluff of spending day together and finally meeting the cast for real. I’ll get to it!]
- Spoiler from nearly a year later, nope never did, oops.
Later on in the day at the Public Theater backstage, Lin finally convinces Alex to formally meet a few people. Knocks on Daveed and Oaks door.
“Hey Daveed, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. This is my…this is Alex.”
A man with one of the largest afro’s Alex has ever seen pops his head out. He looks familiar though.
“Alex. Good to finally meet you officially.”
“Hi.” Alex resists the urge to hide behind Lin. Not cool Alex. Not cool at all! You’re fifteen, not five.
“I’m glad to see you looking better. You really worried me a couple weeks ago.”
That’s it. He recognizes the voice now. This was the guy who called him “baby Lin” and had so frantically called Lin claiming he needed an ambulance. Alex could just about melt into the floorboards in embarrassment. What the heck is he supposed to say after meeting someone like that?
“Wait until you hear Daveed rap tonight Alex. The man’s a beast!” Lin gushes, completely oblivious to Alex’s humiliation. Or is it because of?
“Are you seeing the show tonight?”
Alex nods. Why is talking so hard?
“You’re in for a real treat! You’ve got a certified genius for a foster dad. Seriously, if anyone else had pitched this idea to me, I would have laughed at them, but because it’s Lin... Okay, I still laughed at him. Listen, I want to apologize for our last encounter Alex. We’ve been hearing Lin talk about you for so long, we were a little too eager, but shouldn’t have burst in like that. I’m sorry for the additional pain we caused you.”
Alex gapes at him. Nope—no idea how to respond to that either. He must look like such an idiot.
“Are you kidding?” cuts in Lin. “Daveed, you get that if you, Oak and Ramos hadn’t disregarded my orders to leave my kid alone, it probably would have been another hour before I checked on him? I don’t even want to think about what state he might have been in then. I am so incredibly grateful for your interference.”
Did Lin just call him his kid? What the hell is he supposed to think of that? This is his tweets referring to him as his ‘son’ all over again. Everyone had assumed he had meant Sebastian with that one, but sheesh. It flashes him back to the conversation he overhead Lin and Vanessa have about it while he was still recovering in bed.
“Oh come on, give me a break here! There are only 150 characters allowed. I don’t have room to put foster in front of it. Besides, the public doesn’t need to know about him.”
“You didn’t have to tweet about it at all.”
“People thought I was dying. I didn’t even give a goodnight tweet. I had to give some explanation.”
“And those fault is that? Lin, you have a twitter problem.”
Lin is very aware that Alex has never seen him preform outside of ‘In The Heights’ youtube clips he caught him watching, so he decides to still go on as Hamilton as planned. Instead they get a sitter for Sebastian so Vanessa can sit in the audience with Alex.
Alex is dazzled by the first act. Lin sees him from the stage go from drooping in his chair looking close to falling asleep to wide awake and hanging on every word by the second song. It makes for one of his best performances. Having Alex there and earning his approval matters so much more to him than any celebrity in the audience. What’s truly adorable is that when Vanessa brings him backstage during intermission Alex is acting shy and tongue tied around him, as if he’s suddenly star struck by his own foster dad. Lin’s not worried though, he knows it will pass the next time he annoys him.
“Did you really write that?” he asks shyly right before they leave to take their seats in the audience.
“I did.”
“How?!”
“It did take me seven years. If you like we can add a discussion of the writing process to our nights planned activities.”
“I’d like that.”
It takes him a while to notice since his back is turned to the audience for the second half of “The World Was Wide Enough”, but as soon as Lin comes forward his eyes zero in right on Alex. He’s bawling his eyes out and Vanessa is starting to look worried. Lin’s distracted enough by this that he misses his cue and grabs Pippa’s hand at the wrong time. At least he doesn’t have to sing anymore. Lin doesn’t know how he could do it when his Alexander is in the front row crying like that. During the bows he makes eye contact with Vanessa who shoots him a panicked look. She holds up her phone to indicate that she sent him a text, which he nods at in confirmation. Once they’ve gone through the motions, he all but sprints off stage to get to his phone.
“Bit of a situation here. Alex *freaked out* when you got shot. Flashback maybe?”
“Stay put for now. Don’t try to navigate the crowds. I’ll meet you there once it clears out a bit. See if I can get security to move things along.”
“Did you hear him scream when Burr shot you?”
That was Alex? Shit! On most nights at least one person shouts out when that happens so it was barely registered. In retrospect, it did sound a little more anguished than normal.
“You didn’t say you were going to die!” Alex wails, clinging tightly to Lin in a death grip.
“I’m sorry. It’s common knowledge that he dies in a duel. I thought you knew. Leslie even says he shoots me in the first song.”
“Shoots! Not kills!”
Would give him a sedative if it wouldn’t make staying up any longer impossible.
“Alex honey, you’re exhausted. Your emotions are all out of sorts right now. It was stupid of me to think seeing the show tonight would be a good idea.”
“No, I’m glad I saw it. It’s a masterpiece. You just need to change the ending.”
“Mijo, this isn’t just something I made up. You can’t rewrite the endings on a real person’s life and make it happy.”
“Then you need to play a different part where you don’t get shot.”
“It’s not real.”
“Doesn’t matter. I don’t want you getting shot at every night.”
Too exhausted to hold back emotions that night Alex ends up telling him about the cousin who took him in and moved them to New York after the hurricane and shot himself in the head soon after. That’s how Alex ended up in the American foster care system and why he’s not at all a fan of guns.
Alex is not satisfied until he gets to examine the prop gun and confirm that it can’t hold bullets that someone who dislikes Lin might sneak in. Even so, they have to get the props department to remove the trigger to reassure Alex he’s not really being shot at and make it so that if someone replaced a prop gun with a real one it would be obvious. Even after all that, it’s clear Alex doesn’t trust Leslie.
It’s past midnight and Alex and Lin are holed up in a café getting desert.
“Alexander, I know you don’t like talking about these things, but do you think you could fill me in a little on what happened tonight? That was a pretty big reaction.”
“I don’t like guns,” Alex mutters, taking a sip of his herbal tea. Even though it doesn’t provide the caffeine fix he takes comfort from the ritual of drinking a hot beverage. It gives him courage.
“Can you tell me more?”
“My cousin Peter shot himself in the head while I was in the next room. There was a loud bang, I ran in and he was on the ground. There was so much blood.”
This is a huge breakthrough. Alex has never shared anything about his past with them. All they know is the bare facts: his father’s not in the picture, his mother died quite suddenly of “natural causes”, cousin who was given guardianship of him committed suicide and he’d suffered unimaginable abuse at the hands of his most recent foster family. The exact details of these occurrences are foggy and until now Alexander hasn’t been willing to share.
“Do you think tonight was a flashback to that?” Lin tries to keep his tone mild and calm.
“Yeah…probably…” he looks so defeated. “When I hear a gunshot it’s like I’m back in that room again. Usually, like when Lee and Phillip were shot, I can talk myself out of it, remind myself it’s not real and I’m being stupid. But…when there was a gunshot and then you were keeled over... It looked like there was blood everywhere. I don’t think there was though. There was nothing to clean up after.”
“No Alex, there was no blood on stage.”
“All in my head,” he breathes heavily. The absolute exhaustion just oozes out of him. It’s clear all his defenses are down and Alex doesn’t have the energy to resist questioning. Lin will have to tread lightly.
“Do you think you could tell me more about Peter, mijo? Did he treat you okay?” Lin asks gently.
“I liked Peter. He was kind to me.” Alex stares down at his plate, not making any eye contact, but he talks. “After my mother died the probate court ordered all her possessions be auctioned off and the funds given to my half-brother, her legitimate son. Peter went to the auction and bought back all her books to give to me. He didn’t have to do that, I never asked him to and he never had much money, but he did anyway.”
“He sounds like a good guy,” Lin comments, encouraging him to go on.
“Peter was never stable though. His emotions were all over the place. He’d get really down sometimes and be too depressed to get out of bed for weeks. I ended up having to lie about my age and get a job so we could afford food and rent because he never went to work and couldn’t keep a job. When he got like that I’d have to bring him food or he wouldn’t eat at all. I used to worry all the time that he was going to die in bed like Mom. Sometimes he wouldn’t eat what I gave him, so I would force him and he’d yell at me to leave him alone to die.”
“How old were you when this happened, Alexander?”
“Twelve. I was twelve when I moved in with Peter.”
Over a year then. Over a year with that horribly depressing home life.
“It wasn’t always like that though. Sometimes Peter was full of energy. He was a lot of fun. He never slept much when he was like that and would take me out on wild late night adventures, sort of like we are now.” Alex smiles fondly. It’s clear that despite everything, he cared a great deal for the man. “Peter would get all these wild moneymaking schemes that he’d obsess over, but usually he’d get sad again before anything came of it. Except with moving to New York, that was the one plan he actually did and his mood didn’t change until a week after we moved.” Alex’s breath hitches in his throat. Lin can already see where this is going. “I don’t know where he got the gun…I should have kept a closer eye on him. I should have known the crash was coming.” Alex blinks rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling.
“Mijo, it wasn’t your fault. Not even a little. It sounds like Peter had severe bipolar disorder that was untreated. Do you know what that is?”
“I’ve heard of it,” Alex sniffs.
“You never should have been put in a situation to have to care for him like you did. He shouldn’t have been made responsible for a child in that state. It wasn’t fair to you.”
“I loved him.” At this the tears start running freely that Alex tries to rub away, though it makes no difference. Lin can’t hold back anymore and gets up from his seat across from him to pull Alex into a hug.
“I know honey, and that makes it so much worse.”
“I must not have mattered that much to him if he could kill himself and not care what happened to me.”
“He had a mental illness Alex. His brain was sick and not functioning properly. I don’t think he was capable of thinking of anything but his own misery at that moment. But it sounds like he did care about you a good deal.”
“He bought me back the books.”
“That’s right mijo, he bought you back your mother’s books. That sounds like a man who cared. Who loved you as much as he was able.”
Lin wishes so badly that this was the end of his trauma. That Alex was brought to live with them right after his cousin’s suicide, because surely all of that had been enough horror to last a lifetime. It’s not the end though. It’s not even close. After all of that Alexander’s story gets so much worse.
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Soriel Discord Halloween Writing
So, we did a thing together at the Soriel Discord. :D I proudly present to you our little take on a Undertale Halloween Special. Have fun.
Warnings: Well they are scary stories. Please keep that in mind. Also this is literally multiple authors writing together so there could be some style-crashes.
Many thanks at @drawingwithgreen13 @purpleangrywitches and @heloflor02 who contributed greatly to this and to all of the Soriel Discord who are seriously nice people. Happy Halloween! :D
“On a dark and stormy night...As the wind flits through the trees...Several monsters will gather...To shoot the spooky breeze….Ooooo…”
Sans wiggled his fingers at Toriel as she rolled her eyes, putting the finishing touches on his hamburger costume.
“Yes, yes, very spooky indeed! Goodness me, I’ve never met a monster so at ease being such a dork!” She covered her mouth in a giggle as Sans struck a silly pose, waving his hands as he crossed his eye lights.
“Well ya know I can’t just let this day pass without a joke or two, it’s the best holiday of the damn year.” A sigh escaped Toriel’s lips as she leaned up to peck him on the cheek, the makeup from her vampire costume smudging onto his cheek.
“Heh...I’ll never understand why you used makeup to pale your face when your fur is already stark white.” Toriel stood from her stool in front of him and offered out a hand, a small smile playing on her lips.
“Yes, well, one can always be more dolled up, you know. It’s the thought that counts, don’t you think?” Sans took her hand in his skeletal grasp, leaning up to press his grin to her...Shoulder. Still couldn’t quite reach her cheek.
“Yeah, yeah, I understand. C’mon, we have kids to go introduce to cavities.”
“Must you put it so bleakly, dearest?”
“Hehe...Yup.”
After a bit more freshening up, the duo descended the stairs of their home to the bottom floor, in front of the door which lead onto the porch. Beside the door on a small table sat a bowl of assorted sweets and candies, and a couple of fruit bags. Sans stopped for a moment to stare out of the window, his usual smile widening as he saw the twinkling of stars in the cool night air.
“It’s just as beautiful as the first time we saw ‘em, don’tcha think, Tori’?” She turned to him for a second before directing her gaze out of the window, her expression softening as Pegasus shone brightly through the glass.
“Quite so...You weren’t born on the surface, were you? You won’t have seen them before…I’m ever so glad that you got a chance to do so.”
Sans shook his head, turning back to her...His eye lights seemed shinier than before, as if he were looking at something he truly admired.
“Even so, wouldn’t wanna be seeing it without you, y’know? It’d be a wasted view.” A soft blush played on Toriel’s cheeks, just about visible beneath the fur and makeup. With a shake of the head and a slight tug on his arm, she began leading him through to the kitchen.
“C’mon, you big flirt! Let’s join the others before you CHARM the night away!”
“What a CHARMING gesture” Sans winked.
“...Not your best”
“Eh, the night is young.”
“Oh would you FINALLY get over here?”
The two of them were interrupted by a very impatient looking Undyne. She had her arms crossed and her food was tapping.
“The kids will be here any second and you two waste time being all… smoopy!”
“... is smoopy a word?”, wondered Sans.
Undyne looked at him as if she really wanted to slap him while Toriel just chuckled softly. “We haven’t forgotten, dear.”, she said gently, sitting down in one of the very big and plush reading chairs that they had dragged here.
“Besides, you and Alphys are all… kawaii together.”, said Sans grinning while letting himself fall into the chair beside Toriel.
“Urgh that’s different.”, huffed Undyne.
The finer points of being smoopy couldn’t be discussed however, because in that moment the doorbell run.
“TRICK OR TREAT!”, came the cheer of the children even before Undyne could open the door.
There were a lot of children, Frisk, Monster Kid, a few of the bunny children from Snowdin, Fuku Fire and that skater girl that was always hanging out with her, as well as a few of Frisk’s classmates. Sans even recognized Billy, Linda’s kid.
He wondered for a moment if she knew. Welp, not his problem.
And behind all of them stood Papyrus and Alphys, both of them beaming with delight. Also both of them were carrying stacks of candy.
“FINALLY!”, cheered Undyne and opened the door even more.
“GREETINGS! WE BROUGHT CHILDREN AND OFFERINGS OF SWEETNESS.”, said Papyrus seriously but still with a wide grin.
“Well get in there nerds, you are all in for a great treat!”
The children cheered and poured inside, sitting down on the pillows and blankets surrounding Toriel who chuckled and patted the thick, leather bound book in her lap.
“Ah, my children.”, she said softly. “I see all of you found their way here safely. Gather around me, children, for I will read you some spooky stories. And in the end, when you braved them, there will be a great reward…” She winked to Papyrus. “Of sweetness.”
There was more cheering and Toriel chuckled softly and opened the book.
“The first story is called “Lost in code”...”
“Ah, let me read this.”, said Sans, taking the book and winking. “Alright kids, let uncle Sans tell you some stories about the dangers of the knowledge and shady deals…”
He made himself comfortable, tuned a page and started to read.
“Everybody knows that the world is a world of numbers. There is a code running underneath everything, like the river under Waterfall. Human, monster, everything else… all is written in code.
It is said that very few skilled souls, very very special souls indeed, can take a look into this river below and can read the ripples of the tiny waves on the surface. They can read the code.
But to attempt to manipulate this code? Well, one would have to be a pretty dirty hacker, wouldn’t they?
There is a story you know, about a monster that tried. They were a famous monster, at their time. Brilliant and bright, full of drive and HOPE for the future. They thought they knew everything or close to everything and what little they might not knew… well that would be easy to archive, wouldn’t it?
But the monster noticed that something was blocking them. Some things eluded them. Some things just… wouldn’t add up. Some things the monster just couldn’t understand. And they were offended by it.
“I am the greatest scholar monster kind has ever seen!”, the monster lamented into the night one day. “I archived more than anybody alive! Even the king of all monster seeks my advice but still, why do things like this elude me so much?” They had started to pace in their room that was filled with all kinds of magical and technological stuff. Candles and light bulbs, books and computer parts, delicate glass concoctions and big, heavy stones with carved in runes. There was strange and unusual stuff all over his desk and his shelves, notes laying open around, sketches and theories written and drawn on so much paper.
“It is simply not fair!”, stated the monster. “I should be able to figure this out. All of it!” They sighed deeply, looking over their equipment, their notes and experiments. “I would give everything for finding the answers I seek…”
“Everything?”
The monster jumped when he heard the unfamiliar voice suddenly behind him, turning around and stared at… that person that suddenly appeared behind him. The newcomer was a skeleton… or at least looked they as if they once were one. They had a skull alright but the blacks were to black, the whites to white and all in all they radiated some sort of… wrongness. Parts of them were flickering all around, mass and texture seemed to flicker a bit… it was just unsettling to look at them.
“W..what?”, asked our unlucky scholar.
“Would you give everything for answers?”
“Well…”, the monster hesitated but the desire to get to know things, to conquer this goal they set themselves overwrote their common sense. “Yes.”
“I could show you a way.”
“How?”
“I can teach you how to reach the code. How to read the code. How to change the code.”
The monster was speechless. That sounded almost too good to be true! With that kind of power…
“What do you want for that?”, asked the monster, eager to gain this phantastic new ability.
“Don’t worry about that.”, said the newcomer. “Just take my hand.”
A hand was offered to the monster, skeletal but also not. Gray and almost see-through as if the hand was barely real but just real enough. One last moment the monster hesitated but finally gave in and shook the hand.
“I would very much like to!”
“Good.”, said the newcomer and even with the monster not getting a good look on their face, our unlucky scholar could almost hear the grin in the one word. But all of that was soon forgotten because their newfound partner kept their word.
Knowledge suddenly poured into the scholar, numbers and symbols flying inside their head. The monster almost wanted to cry. It was there, so beautiful! So simple! The code of the world, the river that was underneath everything! And it was so elegant, so easy. He could see it, read it, understand it. There were the values for every monster he had ever seen. One single digit showed if they were alive or death. One single digit for their stats. Values that showed where everybody was, who was king, who was a shopkeeper. It was all there, even the code of the stone around them, the crystals, the lava.
“The code!”, the scholar cried out. “It’s the code!”
“It is.”
“And it’s so easy! So simple! I could do anything with this!”
“I can only advise you against it.” said the newcomer but the scholar was far to excited to hear them.
They reached out, took the numbers. Shifting some values here, altering some numbers there. And finally releasing the code to make it take effect.
[LOAD]
At first, the world flickered, indicating that the alternations the scholar made were taking effect.
“YES!”, they cried, whole body shaking with excitement. “YES! IT WORKS! IT REALLY WORKS!”
But they were celebrating too soon. Because in the next moment, the floor under them was breaking away and they were suddenly falling, falling, while the world around them glitched and flickered.
“Wh...what happened?”
“You are a dirty cheater. That happened.” The newcomer was floating beside them, falling down next to the scholar. “And this is what happens to dirty hackers.”
And suddenly the world flickered and the scholar noticed that it was not the world flickering but they themselves! The scholar screamed when he realized what was happening, when he saw his own code flickering and unraveling, numbers falling, hitting zeros all around and finally corrupting further, forming strange symbols instead of numbers.
“NOOOOOOO!”, the scholar cried, the end of his screaming fading, transforming into corrupted screeching before disappearing totally.
The world gave one last flicker and the scholar had disappeared. In fact, it was like they were never there in the first place, name and status and everything they did forgotten to monster kind.
It is said that they wasn’t deleted, thou. That they still exist somewhere, between the code, washed away by the world rebelling against them altering it. Unable to interact with anything, unable to live or die, they would truly have met with the worst fate of all: to be forgotten and remember that forever.”
There was silence when he finished, some kids looking really spooked, others looked like they didn’t really understood the story at all.
“Welp, there you have it. Just remember kids: don’t make deals like “I give everything”. Also don’t cheat, at least not at something big like life.”
“I think we need something different now…”, chuckeld Toriel. “Does anybody want to stop?”
Nobody wanted to so Toriel took the book back and turned another page.
“Ah, the next one is a poem. Of something that could have been or might have been already… It’s called The Tale of a Queen.”, she said gently.
This is a Tale of a monster
From a world way more cruel
Where the only rule is
“In this world, it’s kill or be killed”.
She used to be with her people
And with the King, she was ruling
Until all her hope was destroyed
And she went to live in Ruins.
She wanted to have peace
But children fell down here;
She grew attached to each of them
And they all left to a cruel fate.
Her soul became corrupted
As she started to kill;
The Ruins grew more and more empty
Under her terrible reign.
She didn’t want to wait
For new generations
So she opened the gate
Leading to her prison.
Now she became a myth; hidden in the forest;
It is said that the kids who go close to her place,
When they go past the bridge, they tend to disappear;
Their dust were never seen, the people are too scared.
But there is one monster that she leaves coming in,
Not known for his bravoure but for being lazy
Who despite his brother wanting him far from this
Goes see her everyday and comes back in one piece.
There are rumors going on what this sentry lives
Some says he is in love, some says he is enslaved
But nobody ever dared to go check themselves
And he always denies all the visits he did.
But whatever happens to those who past the bridge,
This monster is still there and she is still active
So if you ever see a door in a forest,
Run as fast as you can or you’ll be burned to death.
“That is a really scary poem.”, mumbled a human. Billy. Sans was very sure it was Billy. And he hated to admit it but he was agreeing with him.
He hadn’t heard the Tale of a Queen for years, last time was when he was just a baby bones himself. It kinda became even more creepy now.
“It is a very old poem, written centuries ago.”, explained Toriel. “It was meant to be as a warning but I admit it is quite spooky nowadays.”
“Can we have another one?”, asked Monster kid.
“Well, we got time for one more.”, said Sans, taking the book from Toriel again. Next one is a human story. Heh, like humans had monster stories, we got human stories. So… something different now.”
He looked over the pages, glancing to Toriel and the children before starting to read.
“Have you ever heard about humans? You know, those creatures from myth where they all have four fingers, many strands of hair, and squishy things inside their chest? Just describing them sends chills down your back, doesn't it?
To a skeleton, a human would seem like a freak, having seemingly eaten a skeleton which now inhabits their body. To a boss monster, they would seem like a friend or their own child. To any other monster? The emotions vary...
You know about human history, right? You've been to the librarby, and read the book about how humans can have a physical form, but grow up and live without any compassion or love? I'm sure you have. It's very gruesome when you think about it.
But maybe the human is just lonely? Maybe they're the way they are because their parents were just assholes who treated them like shit. Maybe they were born without emotion, and can't help how they are. Maybe...it was us?
Let me tell you the story of one particular human. He had never had a happy life. His mother had a job in a different city, never visited, her phone calls lasting about 5 minutes before she hung up. He never grew up with a ma. His father was a nasty piece of work, would beat him up when he was angry, punch holes in walls, yell at people in the street for having different skin, the usual terrible parent. He never grew up with a true pa.
All his life, not one person he talked to would help. People would laugh, ridicule, roll eyes, be a dick or bitch, he didn't care. What was the point in caring if no one did to him?
He ran away from home, carrying a backpack of food and clothes, and never looked back. Once he reached the hills in Ebott, he thought he was free.
But then came GUILT.
It festered inside him, in his soul, and caused it to be still. It wouldn't pulse, wouldn't glow. Stopped.
Until a monster came by.
He was a big creatures, tall, yet very friendly looking and acting. Was shut down immediately by the human, told that he wouldn't 'fucking care 'cause who would'.
He said 'I would' and took him by the hand. He was kind, friendly, the human didn't like it. It felt wrong, he felt even more guilty. The monster only smiled and offered friendship. The human took it to see what it felt like.
Things bloomed from there, and monsters and humans grew closer.
But then hatred sprung up. Arguments, then fights, then war, and now we're stuck underground.
That one human...who knows where he is now. But he was one of the reasons for us being here. He had learned magic.”
There was silence after the story ended, the kids all looking disturbed and sad to some degree and even Frisk flinched when Sans closed the book suddenly.
“Welp that was a downer, huh?”, he chuckled.
“... are humans really that scary?”, asked one of Frisk’s human friends.
“Eh…”, made Sans. “It’s complicated. Are we monster scary to you?”
“Miss Toriel is super nice!”, protested one little girl. “And she is fluffy.”
“And you make all sorts of funny puns.”, said another kid. “No way!”
“Even if I am a skeleton?”
“Yeah!”
Sans chuckled, winking at Toriel for a moment. “So… if we are not that scary… then you guys are all just little children and you are just as scary to me as I am to you.”
Some giggled, some looked confused. Frisk looked proud and that kinda was… a nice feeling. He felt Toriel suddenly nuzzling at the back of her soul.
“Well, she shouldn’t be a bonehead about our arrangement.”, she reminded him. “I guess the little ones braved all our stories and we have now a promise to keep.”
“Oh, yeah.”, chuckled Sans. “It would quite bitter and sour of us to keep the sweets huh?”
“Indeed.”
And over the cheer of the children and Papyrus’s outrageous scream, Toriel got the big bowl of sweets for the children, the big old book forgotten on her chair…
For this year.
#Undertale#Sans#Toriel#Undyne#Soriel#Soriel Discord#Halloween special#Undertale fanfic#multiple authors#one fanfic#this was fun#scary stories are being told#three scary stories and some Soriel fluff
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Missed Classic: The Worm in Paradise – Won! (With Final Rating)
By Ilmari
The main problem throughout the whole game has been a lack of clear goals. I had to finally go to the well of the official clue sheet to get some idea what I was supposed to do here. It turned out there was a whole area of game, the existence of which I hadn’t been aware of. You see, my bed was usually hidden within the wall of my home, and with the command SAY BED I could make it appear. Now, if I lied on my bed and again used the command SAY BED, I was whisked away to somewhere else.
Where am I?
I found myself in a tunnel system, where my only companions were cleaning droids patrolling the corridors. At the roof of the corridors I saw various manhole covers I couldn’t reach.
In one room I found a pile of junk and a sign telling the droids where to collect the garbage. I soon got the idea I could move the sign to a different room, and after a while, the droids moved all the junk to the new place. If the new room had a manhole cover, I could climb the new pile and go through the cover to some spot in the city – well, this worked for all but one manhole cover, but let’s discuss that later.
In the room where the junk pile had been I now found a new exit. It took me outside the city, but otherwise there appeared to be nothing of interest.
I was stuck at this point for a while, until I managed to find yet another exit in the room where the pile of junk had originally been. The room description had mentioned a waterfall, and of course, behind every waterfall there is a cavern. Within that cavern I discovered a flying saucer.
You wouldn’t expect to find a spaceship within a planet
Within the manual and throughout the whole game I had heard rumours about aliens threatening the life of humans in Eden and here was a direct proof of that threat! I couldn’t approach the ship without being gassed and lasered to death. Still, I could at least use my video camera to capture some footage of the saucer.
Authorities were quite happy with me having some evidence of the alien threat and wanted me interviewed. I got to use my ticket to a Fabulous Riverboat, which took me to the pyramid, where the true leaders of the city resided. In addition to being interviewed, I was made a party member and carried home.
What next? Well, I still hadn’t been really close to the spaceship, so that appeared like the next possible puzzle. I had a leotard and a bubble helmet, which had been used as a spacesuit in previous games of the series, so I thought wearing them might prevent the gas reaching my lungs. That idea worked, but I still had the laser to worry about. The solution was to throw arbitrary items to the saucer, and let them be fried by lasers. After a while, an alien head poked out from the saucer, noted it had been a false alarm and turned the alarm system off, because it appeared to malfunction.
Getting in the spaceship, I noticed that the saucer was made of cardboard and the apparent alien had been just a clever costume. Two human technicians tried to attack me, but my trusty dagget kept them away, while I took the alien costume and escaped. Now I had some leverage against the government!
The problem was that whenever I tried to enter the city proper, the police would shoot me on the spot. The answer was clearly the manhole cover I hadn’t been able to open. Why couldn’t I open it? Well, it was told to be rusted shut and in need of lubrication. The solution was to open a wine bottle and let the spraying wine lubricate the manhole cover. Would this really work? I know vinegar is used for removing rust, but wine?
The now open manhole cover led me to the pyramid of power. I spent too much time trying to find out what to do next. The problem was that the pyramid was a huge complex, filled with largely nondescript rooms. Checking the official clue sheet, I noticed that I was meant to go to the highest floor of the pyramid. The catch was, firstly, that only one of the two elevators in the pyramid went that high, and secondly, that elevator went there only, if I pressed the button of the highest floor twice in a row.
Weird they are city FATHERS, when the leader of the city is woman
The rest of the game went by quickly. There was a mirror, behind which was a corridor – pushing the mirror let me go through it. Then, couple of rooms further I came to the centre of power, where one half of the room was closed off by a partition wall that had slidden down when I entered the room – this problem was solved easily by throwing to the room, one screen earlier, a strong box, which blocked the partition. Finally, at the seat of power, fire extinguisher foam started to pour from an orifice, which I blocked with the cork from the wine bottle.
I have to start using the word “asphyxiate” more
With the alien costume in my hands, I blackmailed the city elders and…
…they adopted me into the party leadership. I had won the game.
Let’s stop for a while for to analyse what just happened. Usually adventure games finish with a romanticised, heroic ending: bad guys are killed or imprisoned, world is saved and the protagonist finds something to be grateful for – if nothing else, then the satisfaction of knowing that they personally were responsible for this positive turn of events. This is a quite fine way to finish a story, but let’s face it, when it comes to dystopias, it wouldn’t feel realistic. Killing off a dictator just won’t be enough, when we can rarely pinpoint an individual who is solely responsible for the bad state of society – a dictator can never rise in the position without the help of others, and if Kim Jong-Un is taken care of, there’s surely some Kim Jor-El to continue the good work. Furthermore, although a single person can lead a rebellion against totalitarian government, they couldn’t do anything without the aid of the masses. Adventure games seem poorly equipped to tell this kind of story, where groups matter more than individuals – for instance, it would just trivialise the complex events leading to the collapse of Soviet Union, if the major concern of a game called Yeltsin Quest would be to find gasoline for one’s tank.
This wouldn’t have been possible without decades of historical development
(All right, one adventure game managed to pull this kind of ending – in ROT13 it is called N Zvaq Sberire Iblntvat. We shall most likely play this game in the near future as a Missed Classic, so I won’t go into plot details here. I’ll merely note that I think a heroic ending works in that particular game, because it is not a case of real, but simulated dystopia and the quest is more about preventing it to become a reality – and the antagonist of the game is not a dictator, but a foolish politician speaking for changes that would eventually lead to a dismal future.)
Compared to a heroic ending, The Worm in Paradise chooses to finish with a cynical note: nothing will ever change, so I might as well join in the winning team. In a sense, it leaves as sour taste in the mouth as the infamous Infidel. No, it leaves an even sourer taste. At least with Infidel you have the pleasure of knowing that the bastard you were forced to play as gets his comeuppance at the end. Here, the relatively innocent protagonist becomes corrupted at the end. It’s not an ending you can really enjoy. Still it is definitely an ending that seems realistic and that makes you think deeply – and therefore it does have its point.
Before getting to the final rating, I’d still like to consider what other endings would be possible in a dystopian adventure game, beside the heroic and cynical. Considering examples from other media, the obvious possibility would be a tragic one, in the fashion of 1984 – again, nothing changes in the society, but the protagonist is crushed, instead of taking advantage of the situation. This kind of ending wouldn’t have worked in The Worm in Paradise, which despite its dystopian setting is still a satire, but it might be an impactful way to finish a more serious dystopian game.
Are there any other possibilities to finish a dystopian story? The only thing that comes to my mind is a surrealist ending, just like in the TV show Prisoner. This would be a possibility, to which an adventure game would lend itself well, but it is probably the most difficult to make in a really satisfying manner.
Makes no sense, but still so effective
Final Rating
Puzzles and Solvability
Puzzles in Level 9 games have often been a bit too intricate to work well with the simple parser and lack of textual clues to guide the player forward. The producers have clearly improved this aspect in the 1985 games, and even Worm in Paradise contained no puzzles that would have made me really scratch my head. Problem was more the opposite, since for the majority of the game there just weren’t that many puzzles to consider and I was often left with no clue as to what I should be doing next. Fine example of this approach was the whole underground city – there was no hint of its existence, so I had no idea that I should be trying to find it. At its final moments the game introduced some puzzles, which were, if not innovative, at least easily solvable, thus making this not a complete disaster.
Score: 3
Interface and Inventory
The interface is not that much different from the other Level 9 games of the period. Yet, there are things that make the game feel clunky, when compared to, say, Red Moon. All the random appearances of police bots make the inventory management a horrendous task, and moving around the so-called Enoch Mass Transport system is cumbersome.
Score: 3.
Story and Setting
The humorically dystopian setting of the game is intriguing, especially as the game world seems to have evolved believably from that described in the earlier games of the series. Story, on the other hand, is a bit lackluster, and for more than half of the game protagonist just wanders around the city from one situation to another. This lack of plot is not really helped by the protagonist being a mere blank slate with no motivation at all. We never even learn, what caused the amnesia of the protagonist. The whole shenanigan with a fake UFO comes a bit out of left field.
Score: 4.
Sounds and Graphics
Pictures were of the standard Level 9 variety of the period – nothing to get really excited about.
Score: 3.
Environment and Atmosphere
The bane of previous games of the trilogy was an inconsistent tone, with Monty Pythonesque humour suddenly infiltrating a rather serious game. Here, there’s no such inconsistency, since it’s satire through and through. Bureaucratic robots, idiotic laws forbidding everything and the lack of anything useful for citizens to do make the society of the game feel like a living nightmare.
Score: 4.
Dialogue and Acting
Although majority of the text in the game is just dull, but efficient, there are some humorous descriptions of events. There are really no characters to interact with, but as fits the theme of the game, just faceless bureaucratic robots.
Score: 4
(3 + 3 + 4 + 3 + 4 + 4)/.6 = 21/.6 = 35.
And so The Worm in Paradise receives the best score so far of all Level 9 games. Indeed, the game has the most consistent tone and actually something to say, instead of being just a collection of disparate puzzles.
source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/missed-classic-the-worm-in-paradise-won-with-final-rating/
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On May 4, 1970 the soldiers of a division of the US National Guard introduced into the campus of the University of Kent by the order of the State of Ohio Governor James Rhodes to cool off the wave of protests against the war in Vietnam, opened fire at the students. The ordinary demonstration took the lives of four of them. And millions of Americans forced their hearts to freeze.
The rise of a mass movement for peace and against the US aggression in the war in Vietnam began in the 60s. The supporters of nonviolent action began to notice that the government goes beyond what is permitted. Then America was on the verge of breaking into two parts. Social movements abounded in the country by their ideology and morality, beginning with one of the most stable anti-war organizations "Women Fight for Peace!" to the active participation of the liberal-minded public figures. At that difficult period the social and political life of the society developed in close connection with the total number of the waves of protests, whose mood gained more and more dismal colors, but it developed in the direction which was absolutely unnecessary to the state.
The United States positioned themselves as the supporter of the South Vietnamese regime, because they had earlier signed the agreement on mutual aid, including military assistance as well. The justice of the invasion was in upholding the rights and freedoms in the establishment of capitalism in a democratic way. On the eve of the next presidential elections in the United States, Lyndon Johnson, who later became the 36th president, appeared in the role of "the candidate of peace."
“I do not find it easy to send the flower of our youth, our finest young men, into battle.”
28 July 1965
But you should not forget what you are fighting for in the middle of a war. At the time when demonstrations and protests of passionate and energetic young people acting with good intentions, were rapidly increasing, the government forgot that it ought to set an example for "world peace."
In 1960s the student movement was greatly politicized. A remarkable event of the time was the appearance of the "Students for a Democratic Society" organisation (SDS) in Ann-Arbor's Michigan University campus, which was working on the problem of institutions of higher education as social agents. On the 24th of March 1965 they have carried out one of the first non-traditional actions, dedicated to the War Vietnam, where a "Teach-in" occurred. During this meeting students and professors seized and publicly revealed illicit documents showing the real character of the US aggressive intervention in Vietnam in front of a two-thousand people's audience. That event provoked the beginning of discussions all around the country, spreading like fire among the universities' campuses. By May of that year, similar events were held in 50 universities and colleges. Next five years have been turned into the massive demonstrations' arena. For instance, in spring of 1967 200 000 were protesting the Vietnam War, in October nearly 70 000 people gathered in front of Pentagon and in 1969 – 400 000 showed up in Bethel, NY. But the most remarkable example of the undue excitement was the protest at Kent University, which led to the tragic consequences.
The events of May 4, 1970, came the first bands in almost all the national newspapers the following day. The impetus for the meeting of the activists of student organizations of the University of Kent was the statement of Richard Nixon on the thirtieth of April about the bringing of the US troops into the territory of Cambodia during the war in Vietnam. Earlier, on May 2 young people expressed their outrage by breaking the windows of some of the enterprises of Kent. At 5 pm the next day, against the background of rumors about the plans to destroy the building of ROTC (Reserve Officers' Training Corps - Service ROTC) in the campus, Kent Mayor James Rhodes called the National Guard.
Prior to that, peaceful protests continued for several days and gathered about two thousand participants. Suddenly there appeared an armed unit which had received the orders from their headquarters to disperse the multitude. But the military did not expect the students would not budge and would try to start negotiations.
From the point of view of the organization of such events, the anti-war movement was a colorful and diverse picture, even though it did not intend to do any harm to the state. Nevertheless, such unity and solidarity could provide a "direct involvement" of the masses in the adoption and implementation of significant decisions, which only the government headed by the president had the right to decide. At first, this activity did not interfere with the authorities, but over time it began to grow in breadth, and further on the assistance that people in vain had tried to put off on the government, got back from the pipeline by mutual return. Exactly like Vietnam.
Sunday 3 May, was sunny and did not portent any trouble. Allison was happily walking all day on the territory of the campus with her friends, speaking about the last days of unrest, but was not absorbed in serious thoughts and inner feelings. Later that evening, the teens decided to watch for the soldiers, so to speak, to fraternize with them. One of them, Myers, a shy young man immediately caught the eyes of Allison. He kept smiling and talking about everything with gentle compassion. She put a lilac flower in the barrel of his rifle as a sign of understanding. But their pleasant conversation was soon interrupted by the officer, he slapped Myers briskly on the shoulder, so that the young man changed dramatically his look and stood up like a string of the piano. Allison was standing directly beside him and heard the conversation.
O: Doesn't your division have target practice
next week, Myers?
M: Yes, sir
O: Are you going there with that silly flower?
M: No, sir
O: Then what is it doing in your rifle barrel?
M: It was a gift, sir
O: Do you always accept gifts Myers?
M: No, sir
O:Then why did you accept this one?
No answer
O: (Holding out his hand) What are you going to
do with it Myers?
Myers feebly began to remove the lilac
O: That's better Myers. Now straighten up and
start acting like a soldier and forget all this
peace stuff.
Realizing that the officer was going to throw the lilac, Allison very boldly snatched it from his hand and looked at him with disgust. But the officer, ignoring the girl's attack, was full of tranquility. He turned his back and walked away. Then Allison desperately shouted, "What has happened to the world? Better flowers than bullets!" These words were later learned by heart by the whole world.
The sharp change of the situation occurred early in the morning of May 4, when the Guards, having made a long loop through all the football field of the University, began to let tear gas to drive away the protesters, and then poked with bayonets the most energetic students. Therefore, the latter, in turn, did not retreat, being in a fury and flew into a rage near the bus stop. No one still can say exactly how shooting started. Fire was opened at unarmed students at a distance of 100 meters. Allison's best friend Barry Levine would later say: “As we began to retreat over the hill, I could see Allison almost beginning to cry. A few steps further she turned to me with tears rolling down her cheeks and asked, "Why are they doing this to us? Why don't they let us be?"”
The guards, standing on the hill for a long time, asked all the protesters to withdraw in order to avoid too much conflict, which could be very dangerous for young people. Among the protesters demanding that the war must end, was Allison Krause, 19. The National Guard received strict orders to shut the protesters, because it was the manifestation of intolerance - then regarded as a violation of the law that should be punished. At that time, the patience of the military unit came to an end: they gave the last clear warning sign. To run. First Allison, drowning in tears, came back with a friend, who always pulled her sleeve. But suddenly she turned and ran back. She stood on the hill and did not move, literally trampled grass in the ground by her fragile feet, screaming with all her mind, "as if her cry, straining lungs could change the world." Barry tried to return to her, but realized that the distance was too critical.
Forty-six years ago, on May 4, 1970, in the afternoon, during a 13-second volley of shots, they were killed: Jeffery Miller for having thrown a rocks and insults; Sandra Lee Scheuer because her last class was canceled and she was going home; William Knox Schroeder for having chosen not to leave campus; Allison Krause, because the day before she came up to one of the guards and put a flower in the barrel of his rifle with the smile on her face and the words "Better flowers than bullets."
There were nine wounded children and another one, whose youth was over at the moment. Young William Perkins stood with a rifle on a hill, surrounded by his friends, and his innocence sunk in fog with shots. Later he would say: "Those were just kids our age, and we were forced to be there,"
Will he come back again on May 4 in honor of the memory of the day?
"If I do, I'd surely not tell them who I am."
Like more than thousands of other students of the University of Kent, Ms. Bernstein was near the site of the sudden outbreak of fire. She went home in disarray, after calling to her friend Sandra, to offer her a lift because she lived nearby. A knock at the door was not answered. At the bus station she was caught by her father who hugged her and asked not to scream. That's how she found out that her friend was dead.
In court, William Perkins stated that he personally made five warning shots into the air like the others, and when the shooting subsided, one of the soldiers jabbed his finger in the direction of Jeffrey Miller, a friend of Allison and Wylie, who was lying breathless on the road, wounded in the face. Later experts found out that there were produced from 61 to 67 shots (various data) in unison. The official proceedings of the case eventually reached an impasse, because the testimonies differed radically and confused the investigation: Alan Konforae, one of the protesters, whose wrist was shot, claimed that he had heard how the soldiers were ordered to open fire, but Mr. Perkins stood firm – neither he nor other soldiers heard any orders, the cause of everything was panic and confusion at the moment. Kent State University Library collected more than a hundred testimonies of witnesses, and wrote each of them on tape, 50 more people were willing to appear in court to give evidence on camera, but finally the jury withdrew charges against the eight guards for lack of evidence.
It is noteworthy that on the eve of Friday James Rhodes promised to eliminate violence, in which the city was really drowning.
Laurel Krause was 15 years old when her elder sister Allison died. The girl does not regret about any of her statements, which anyway could slow the investigation.
"Our goal is to correct history," she said. "It is our single goal. The history of Kent State is not correct. The history of Kent State in textbooks in America does not give an accurate depiction of what happened."
This court decision caused "shockwaves" across the country. And on May 9, in Washington, DC, nearly 100,000 people gathered. The US Capital just rolled in so many rebellious. President Richard Nixon woke up at five in the morning, walked to Lincoln's living room, sat down to listen to some music, anxiously watching the whole picture through the window. And then he just escaped from the White House. After that, the CNN website wrote the following:
“President Richard M. Nixon, the strategic, calculating – and some say paranoid –architect of his own rise and fall, took an uncharacteristic gamble.”
Kent State University students completed the school year by correspondence. Some of them did not come back, for example, Bernstein Loi transferred to the University of Pittsburgh.
"We all felt so violated -- just thinking about the lives that were lost, what those people could have done, what they could have been,"
Numerous articles, books, government inquiries and TV shows highlighting the event, everyone around tryed to answer the most difficult question, "Was there the order to fire?" Actually, Mr. President himself, leading countless rambling conversations with the students, could not muster the strength to answer this question, and in fact did not take the responsibility for the deaths of four teenagers. University Memorial is still silent about the real events of that day.
In 2012, the US Department of Justice refused to reopen the case, arguing that there were too many "insurmountable legal and evidential barriers".
Allison's mother, Doris Krause, learned of the death of her daughter from reporters' calls. She dropped in a conversation about what happened after long nine years:
“I wonder if anyone will ever own up to anything. They've (University) never let me know what happened to Allison. They've never even told me she died. I learned of my daughter's death from phone calls from reporters.”
Upon arrival to the hospital, Doris did not meet a single familiar face of the University, all that she received as a gesture of apology was an envelope with partial compensation for the spring semester after the funeral, as though Allison was able to spend the money.
Allison's father Arthur commented maliciously:
"Let the death of my daughter hang on Nixon's back. She was indignantly named an idle just because her opinion did not coincide with someone else's. Is dissent a crime? Is it enough to be the reason for the murder? Have we come to this political regime, when she should be shot, because she deeply disagreed with the actions of the government?"
The Soviet Communist Party newspaper Pravda published a poem written by Evgeniy Yevtushenko on 18th of May dedicated to Allison Krause. In December 1970, the creator donated the manuscript of the poem to the Libraries' Department of Special Collections & Archives of Kent State University.
Flowers and Bullets
Of course: Bullets don’t like people
Who love flowers.
There’re jealous ladies, bullets,
Short on kindness.
Allison Krause, nineteen years old,
You’re dead,
For loving flowers.
When, thin and open as the pulse of conscience,
You put a flower in a rifle’s mouth
And said,
Flowers are better than bullets,
That was pure hope speaking.
Give no flowers to a state
That outlaws truth;
Such states reciprocate
With cynical, cruel gifts,
And you gift, Allison Krause,
Was the bullet
That blasted the flower.
Let every apple orchard blossom black,
Black in mourning.
Ah, how the lilac smells!
You’re without feeling.
Nothing, Nixon said it: “You’re a bum.”
All the dead are bums,
It’s not their crime.
You lie in the grass,
A meting candy in your mouth,
Done with dressing in new clothes,
Done with books.
You used to be a student.
You studied fine arts.
But other arts exist,
Of blood and terror,
And headsmen with a genius for the axe.
Who was Hitler?
A cubist of gas chambers.
N the name of flowers
I curse your works,
Your architects of lies,
Maestros of murder!
Mothers of the world whisper
“O God, God”
And seers are afraid
To look ahead.
Death dances rock-and-roll upon te bones
Of Vietnam, Cambodia –
On what stage is it booked to dance tomorrow?
Rise up, Tokyo girls,
Roman boys,
Take up your flowers
Against the common foe.
Blow the world’s dandelions up
Into a blizzard!
Flowers, to war!
Punish the punishers!
Tulip after tulip,
Carnation after carnation,
Rip out of your tidy beds in anger,
Choke every lying throat
With earth and root!
You, jasmine, clog
The spinning blades of mine-layers!
Boldly,
Block the cross-hair sights,
Drive your sting into the lenses
Nettles!
Rise up, lily of the Gangers,
Lotus of the Nile,
Stop the roaring props
Of planes pregnant
With the dearth of children!
Roses, don’t be proud
To find yourselves sold
T higher prices.
Nice as it is to touch a tender cheek,
Thrust a sharper thorn a little deeper
Into the fuel tanks of bombers.
Of course:
Bullets are stronger than flowers.
Flowers aren’t enough to overwhelm them.
Stems are too fragile,
Petals are poor armor.
But a Vietnam girl of Allison’s age,
Taking a gum in her hands,
Is the armed flower
Of the people’s wrath!
If even flowers rise,
Then we’ve had enough
Of playing games with history.
Young America,
Lie up the killer’s hands.
Let there be an escalating lie
Crushing people’s lives!
Flowers, make war!
Defend what’s beautiful!
Drown the city streets and country roads
Like the flood of an army advancing
And in the ranks of people and flowers
Arise, murdered Allison Krause,
Immortal of the age,
Thorn-Flower of protest!
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