#but well. he's so insanely vi-core. i care him so much i need to know his deal badly and for them to write him the best way possible. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

parachutingkitten · 4 years

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Do you have any Dewlet headcanon?

So sorry this took so long! But yes! Of course I do! I realize these are a little more story-oriented, but screw it, they were the first things to come to mind!

Violet likes Dewey first, she is pretty open about it but Dewey is super oblivious

The moment his brothers mention it to him, he starts freaking out cuz he has no idea how to process this information

After getting over the initial shock, he decides that Violet is well worth his time, she's smart and responsible and adventurous and beautiful, and oh crap he totally has a crush on her

Violet is much better at having a crush than Dewey is

She has the sort of "oh, aren't you gonna come over here and talk to me?" style approach

While Dewey is a complete bumbling idiot who forgets how to speak cuz his brain is overloaded

Although he does try his hand at flirting with her and she doesn't care that he's cheesy and tripping over himself constantly

Dewey also calls her Vi. This is just a fact.

It all kinda fizzles out as they get older and they start getting more self conscious about themselves, but they get a really strong friendship out of it

Dewey still has an underlying crush on her, but he's happy just being friends, and Violet is focused on school more and more, she's going to be off to college soon, it's all a mess

They hang out pretty often for having exactly zero common classes or activities with each other

I feel like they have a lot of late night ice cream runs because they both just need a break

Violet will also carpool with him all the time - she has her own car and Dewey has failed his driver’s test twice now

They’ll do a lot of crazy long phone calls to each other and just talk about nothing for hours on end

The others don’t really catch on to how much time they actually spend on each other (and neither do they honestly)

Dewey's kinda waiting for an opportunity to say he still has feelings, Violet is drowning in stress, Dewey really genuinely cares about her and is worried about her cuz she's totally going to burn herself out

But during senior year all their emotions kind of explode all at once and they confront the fact that they still really like each other and there’s no way they can just part ways after school lets out

Anyway, after all this fuss, they do get together

I feel like they’re not a very touchy couple, but they are a very flamboyant couple- if that makes sense?

Like they don’t hang on each other or hold hands everywhere they go or anything, but Dewey does make a point of making these way over the top romantic gestures (most of which he’s learned from movies) - you know, giving her his coat (even if she doesn’t really need it), throwing rocks at her window late at night, buying the biggest most insane valentines balloons, stuff like that

Like everyone who comes in contact with them definitely knows they’re dating, but not because they’re super lovey-dovey with each other

They totally cuddle up when not in public though

Lots of hugs and forehead kisses and such

They also shove the fact that they’re dating into the conversation as often as possible

They’re together all the time, even if they’re not even really doing anything

Dewey always has awful puns for Violet to roll her eyes at

Violet has to continuously remind him to not eat stuff that he's allergic to

You’d swear they’ve been dating for years - they kinda skipped the whole love struck phase (I mean they’ve had years of that while being stuck as friends) and skipped right to the old married couple stage

And on top of it all, everyone still doesn’t quite understand them. How do they function so well? How do they not argue more? Just… why them?

But in the end it really just boils down to the fact that they’re weirdly on the same page - even if they have vastly different personalities, they’re just on the same brain wave

Violet can totally follow Dewey’s strange backwards logic and Dewey is weirdly receptive to learning things the way she explains them

Violet has a good grip on how to analyze emotions and get to the core of why she’s feeling the way she’s feeling and Dewey is an expert at just feeling them - together they’re extremely emotionally supported in all the right areas

They just click, and nothing can take that away from them

#ducktales #dewlet #dewey duck #violet sabrewing #asks

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harry-leroy · 4 years

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okay: Così opinions? spill. I want to hear them all.

okay okay okay oh boy oh boy oh boy (Thank you, Savannah! It’s time to go absolutely insane...) I’ll tag @vera-dauriac because I said I would go off about the Così opinions.

So I’m currently in the middle of the Met’s Così stream for tonight - and it’s okay. Definitely not my favorite production. I think the strongest cast member is Isabel Leonard as Dorabella - I might have a bias though, because I absolutely adore her. Thing is, I think it’s the acting that’s bringing this production down for me, not the singing - so time to spill my thoughts about how Così should go down in my head. (These will be about the four lovers, not really about Despina and Don Alfonso - I think I still need to sit with them for a little longer).

To me, Così is the Love’s Labour’s Lost of opera. (It even got the Shakespeare treatment in 1863 - where Mozart’s score was put to the text of LLL, translated into French. Ferrando and Guglielmo became Ferdinand and Berowne, and the ladies were the Princess of France and Rosaline). While some may read this opera as a sexist joke with fickle and uptight characters, I think there’s a lot more to it than that - and it’s why I prefer the title “The School for Lovers” to “All Women Do It”. Everyone is learning something in this opera, not just the women. I also think the ending is far more complicated than the libretto would have us believe.

I made a post a while ago about the 2006 Glyndebourne Così giving us a really complicated set of looks from the singers right before the curtain drops. The couples are back where they should be, according to the libretto. Guglielmo is holding Fiordiligi, Ferrando his Dorabella, but then Fiordiligi looks back at Ferrando. Ferrando looks intently and longingly at Fiordiligi, Guglielmo realizes this and looks angrily at Ferrando, only to have Dorabella look at Ferrando, confused and hurt. And I think this is exactly where we should end. While the original couples are supposedly back in place by the end of the opera, I think each of these four young people end up in a totally different place. I think Fiordiligi loves Ferrando. I think Ferrando loves both women. I think Dorabella is lost, and I think Guglielmo wants absolutely no part of it anymore. You can find evidence to support this ending in the score and in the libretto, and you can end up creating much more exciting characters to watch in the process.

I’ll begin with the boys. Guglielmo was played by Francesco Benucci in the original 1790 production, the one singer in the cast that Mozart could trust (Mozart and Da Ponte had a thing against four out of six people in the original cast). Benucci was the first Figaro, the first Viennese Leporello, and also a singer who was thirty years older than the original Ferrando, Vincenzo Calvesi. You can hear it in the score too. Guglielmo seems older than Ferrando - if you had a pick a leader of the two it would be Guglielmo. He’s also got an ego, and if Mozart’s slight affinity for the man in the original role wasn’t enough indication, you can also look at the libretto. “No one can resist a Guglielmo” he says after wooing Dorabella. His aria “Donne mie, la fate a tanti” is all about women and their annoying habits, but it also points to the fact that he’s been with a lot of women. Also look at the two love duets we get in this opera, “Il core vi dono” (Guglielmo + Dorabella) and “Fra gli amplessi” (Ferrando + Fiordiligi). Which one seems more sincere? Keeping with the opera buffo style that Benucci was so well accustomed to, “Il core vi dono” plays with the theme of the heartbeat. It’s meant to be funny. Guglielmo, (I think in a good staging) also does not seem as invested in the love duet as Dorabella, and he certainly isn’t invested in her afterwards. He feels bad for Ferrando at points, but keeps up with the idea for soldier’s play. I feel that he’s the man who thinks women would be a fool to turn him down.

Ferrando is a little different. He’s the younger of the two, infinitely more passionate, and possibly could be depressed - to me, he’s a classic enneagram 4. If Guglielmo’s the leader, then Ferrando certainly follows his lead. Until “Un’aura amorosa”, he lets Guglielmo take control of wooing the women. I really think that when Ferrando sings “Un’aura amorosa”, he should have the stage all to himself. It’s the first little hint of his personality that diverts from Guglielmo’s, and shows that he cares about not having his heart broken, more than keeping his ego intact. In fact, I don’t think Ferrando is at all afraid to have his ego wounded. After Dorabella’s moment of infidelity, he toggles between love and revenge in “In qual fiero contrasto”, but is ultimately softened a bit by love. His love for Dorabella will always nag at him. I think his revenge (to woo Fiordiligi) is more against Guglielmo than it is against Dorabella. Guglielmo’s never felt the pain he just had to go through, and Ferrando’s going to make sure he does. But the lengths to where Ferrando goes to win Fiordiligi tell me that he’s more invested in her than originally thought. As he holds a sword against his throat, I think a believable Ferrando would have let her drive the blade in. It’s the moments where Ferrando acts independently of Guglielmo that are the most exciting to watch. It’s where he asks Fiordiligi for “just one glance”, it’s imagining what happened on that walk with her offstage, it’s “Un’aura amorosa” if it’s staged right. (It’s that one last glance at Fiordiligi at the end of the Glyndebourne Così!). He and Fiordiligi have this link in which they’ve been following Guglielmo’s lead for what feels like all their lives. Ferrando is shaped by Guglielmo’s philosophy, just as Fiordiligi is shaped by the (false and perhaps social) need to remain loyal to Guglielmo.

That said, I think the reason that Fiordiligi is so uptight in this opera is because she’s young, and she’s got the hottest soldier in town for a fiancé. She’s got the man that women could only dream about, and until Ferrando (in disguise) shows up to break her defences, I think she’s never thought about the idea of not being with Guglielmo. I don’t think she’s all that in love with Guglielmo when it comes down to it, but in love with the idea of being in love with Guglielmo. They would easily be the it-couple of their social circles, why throw that away? It takes all of the courage that Fiordiligi has to say in “Fra gli amplessi” that final “I am yours” - do with me what you will, because falling in love, real love, is the scariest thing that a young person will ever go through. I think, if done right, both Ferrando and Fiordiligi should be terrified the entire love duet- terrified of rejection, terrified of yielding their hearts up, terrified because ‘is this what real love feels like?’. (That terror is missing from Guglielmo in “Il core vi dono”). I also assume that because she owns a house, and she has a maid, that Fiordiligi is rich - it’s very possible that many choices in her life have been made for her, and making those independent choices for the first time can also be terrifying. That said, I completely understand her obstinate behavior.

And that leaves Dorabella, my poor darling. I really think she gets the short end of the stick here, and it’s because of Guglielmo mostly. When I first saw Così, I really wanted the switched couples to stay together, but I think that was because of Ferrando and Fiordiligi, and when you watch the Glyndebourne production, you just see how much Ferrando and Fiordiligi love one another. But now that I’ve seen a few more productions, I really just want Ferrando and Fiordiligi to be together. Guglielmo and Dorabella actually don’t have that sincere of a connection, and while Ferrando does love Dorabella, I’m not sure how much we can recover from their love after watching the passion between him and Fiordiligi just moments before. Dorabella is someone who follows Fiordiligi’s lead for the most part, but also has her own moments of independence, and I think in that way, she’s like Ferrando. Both she and Ferrando have moments of passion, far more than their counterparts. “È amore un ladroncello” is a marvellous aria, and I think it’s because Dorabella gets it. She gets that love is about putting your heart on the line and going for broke, and she knows how terrifying that is, and she found that in Ferrando and Guglielmo, but I’m not entirely certain that the boys found it in her. In that way, she is the most mature of the four, but she also gets left with the least.

So back to that ending, I think that we should understand that it’s not just that these lovers are getting back with their original couples, but that they all have a lot of individual work to do and a lot to think about. It’s the school for lovers and they’ve all learned their individual lessons. Guglielmo learned how to have his heart broken, Fiordiligi learned how to love, Ferrando walks away with a conflicted heart, and Dorabella has to swallow her own words: love is a thief. They may have forgiven each other, but their story is far from resolved.

If I were staging this, I would love to stage it in the regency period - like 1810s England, because there would be no end to the Austenite yearning and the costumes would be gorgeous. You would also get the boys rolling up like the desperate romantics they are (especially Ferrando). I’ve also been entertaining a gender-bent version, probably set in the same period, because of how sex-charged the opera’s connotations are, but I also think it would work really well.

Obviously, there are places in this discussion of mine that you could probably tear and stretch a bit. It’s not the only reading of Così out there - but I think we need to give this opera a more human shape rather than make it a battle of the sexes or an opera where the characters are caricatures, which is why I think a conflicting ending (like the one that Glyndebourne did) works so well. No one group is supposed to win the day at the end, but I think forgiveness is a good first step.

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onetruesporkbot · 6 years

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One or the Other...Preferably the Non-Stupid One

A website I frequent, the Outhouse, has an article pertaining to Detective Comics #980, and the potential effect it (and to a degree, Flash War) has on the lives of Cassandra Cain and Stephanie Brown. I’ve mentioned my problems with their reinventions before, but...well, I’m doing it again. Sue me. And yeah, this’ll be a long one, so maybe go for a walk around the block to stretch your legs first, make sure you got to the bathroom, and maybe grab a drink before reading on.

I've had my own ideas on how to fix the error of Cass and Steph’s altered histories. Mostly they involve retconning Harper Row into either non-existence or just not being an attention/glory leech on the Bat-Family’s butt-cheek, praised as a paragon of splendor. Even if someone can find evidence that editorial/executive mandates forced the spotlight on that character throughout the Eternal books, the interpretation/execution of that, vis-a-vie how she affected Stephanie's and Cass' lives, is on Tynion (and, granted, the other writers who were working off his ideas), and acts as a basis for his ‘Tec run. As is her lack of development, off-putting but still happily accepted bad attitude and generally not really doing much, but still being treated like royalty by her experienced betters. She’s a bad character, and none of the Bats or Birds, acting in their right mind, would tolerate her like they did. THAT is the core of the problem with those stories and these reinventions, and they aren't solved simply because Harper became the Mr. Wick to 'Tec's Drew Carey Show, and just isn't seen very often later on.

Not the most fair comparison, because the depraved, abusive, lying, cheating, over-privileged misery-mongering manager is by far more likable.

While heavy-handedly-hoisted Harper is a large part of the problem, there are others where these characters are concerned. Steph's reinvention started out well enough, but then Tynion decided to charter her a flight from "beginner" to "accomplished crime-fighter" in a mere few issues. Stephanie lost a big part of what I've seen draw her to readers (like a friend of mine): her tenacity. Instead of a girl that kept doing the hero thing after being frequently told by those around her, including Platinum-Status Crook-Scarer Batman, to quit, and publicly (off-line) actually spoiling her Dad’s schemes, training hard to better herself...she was remade into a girl running around with her mask down half the time, leaving vague hints online that are ignored or hacked away. It’s later discovered didn't really want to catch her Dad, regardless of what that meant for Gotham, a city she’s quick to abandon when the s#&t hits the fan. She could swing across the sky and fight off assassins despite little or no training (excelled in this regard only by...you know blue). So, she’s got a skill-level and bravery on par with vigilantes with years of experience...until she doesn’t.

Cassie's changes are the biggest offense to me. While Steph started somewhat strong and had any thunder thoroughly absorbed by Harper, Cass' entire EXISTENCE became tied to Row. Every movement, every action, every breath was about some unlikable wastrel with delusions of perfection. Remaking a pre-existing character's life all about a newer one’s is even worse when that newer one has all the originality of the comic Diesel (see Linkara's review for context). Their "friendship" had zero basis, other than one party's guilt and the other party needing constant attention and praise heaped upon her. It makes Cassie’s her entire motivation more about appeasing Harper, proving herself to Harper, even asking for death in Harper’s name...as opposed to realizing that, regardless of who the victim was, killing someone was wrong. I don't recall if they ever named the guy Cassie originally killed, but it was better that he didn't have some "important" connection to a character like a bad soap opera desperate for ratings. Now it’s felt more like “killing that person was wrong...because it was Harper’s Mom.” Just like the Wayne Murders, it's better and more poignant if it were left random. But again, the problems go beyond Harper. Having Cass speak so early changes her "neurologically atypical brain", or how, when you think about it, slaughtering children and piling them up (seriously, what the eff, Jimbo?) kind of defeats the whole revelation Cass has when she takes her first life. Even if she feels she has no family, Cass taking the name of a serial killer makes no sense...I would think the body count would outweigh “feeling alone” element to the name (really, Jimmy’s stretching for that one). Then there’s the fact that Tynion’s blithering idiot version of David Cain never loved his daughter, except as a passing reference in his kamikaze strike, which was mostly about Mother not appreciating him enough. And probably just an excuse to kill another characters father because some at DC has Daddy Issues. I mean, they cut Cluemaster’s throat, THEN cut Orphan-Cain’s throat...but he somehow survived...oy, now I’m remembering all the plot holes. So many plot holes. I mean, Cassie turning evil was incompetent, but not only did that give fixed in under two years, Adam Beechen excelled in other respects during Robin, and wasn’t prone to unbearable slog.

This is the crap you’re making me miss, DC.

Harper Row was either the standard or the launching pad for Tynion’s versions of these characters, and much to their detriment. This vision OMAC-Tim gives Cass and Steph just proves what I've been saying, that these characters of Orphan and...Not-Quite-Spoiler...aren't "just the same" characters as before Flashpoint, despite some similarities. They haven't earned what they did beforehand, Tynion just tried rebuilding them from the ground-up, then a few issues later just wrote "it's this way now" to closer resemble their pre52 versions, with no build-up or effort put into it. Heck, after hearing 'Tec readers talk about how Steph has been acting insane, these last pages suggest that, perhaps, she was playing Achilles or whatever his name is, which...I could kind of see Batgirl-era Steph doing...not a bumbling idiot who let Gotham burn over her stinkin' parental disputes and took orders from an ego-maniacal brat.

Cassie and Steph can hug all they want when things get emotional, it doesn’t change that the versions under Tynion had one called the other subhuman, and then when they next saw each other, spontaneous group-hug-invite. That is nowhere NEAR the same as the two of them disliking each other, and their rivalry developing into a friendship.

“Remember when I said you weren’t a person only because you didn’t speak? AHAHAHAHA! Good times, GOOD times...”

And really, I think fans of these characters are just so glad to have ANY version of them, they're more forgiving of Tynion's writing, whether it's error-heavy or just serviceable. They’ll excuse the problems to support the characters. Sure, Jimbo tosses in some emotional moments, hugging, crying, but given his previous work and history with them, I question if it had any real structure to it. He didn’t hesitate to have Tim bone Steph, even though that’s not something pre52 Tim would do, so why should I believe he put any effort into the Clayface/Cassie friendship, or...any character/Cassie friendship? But even if he did...how does it justify what he changed or how he changed it? I’d say it doesn’t; his mistakes aren’t better just because he and/or DC refuse to acknowledge them (hence the absence of Harper). NOTHING justifies these problems.

So, moving forward from Steph and Cass learning they had alternate, better-written lives...we don’t know how that’ll go. ‘Tec 981 could see them decide they (for some unholy reason) prefer to have started out as side-characters in their own origins if it props Harper up further, never having actually ever been the same as before (but “different” and “change”, so that makes it better somehow). Or, in a rare show of intelligence, this will lead to them ACTUALLY getting their lives back, no reinvention, no dead Dads either influencing their sociopathic negligence or wanting them dead, no stupid changes mandated by a bunch of witless baboons in charge...none of it. Because none it was good, none of it improved or equaled what was done before, and none of it is justified by long slogs in between distracting heart-string-tugs. Tynion’s changes, including but certainly not limited to the spotlighting of Bluebird, brought nothing new or good to the table, regardless of circumstances, and I fail to see why they or their effects should continue.

The characters CANNOT have both histories; they just don’t work together. Steph’s beginnings cannot be both humble AND tied to yet-another city-wide massacre. Cassie’s life cannot be about her AND someone that has no right, rhyme or reason to be associated with her. David Cain cannot be a trained assassin at odds with a daughter he genuinely cares for AND...whatever the Hell Tynion thought he was writing Orphan to be. None of this deserves passive dismissal, not after all the years of crap DC has flung our way. They’re mistakes don’t deserve the validation of continuance for these characters or their world.

We’ll see.

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xadoheandterra · 7 years

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Title: Don’t Write Me A Postscript Chapter: IX (I / II / III / IV / V / VI / VII / VIII / X / XI / XII / XIII) Characters: Dr. Leonard Church | Director, Church | Alpha, David Church | Agent Washington | Recovery One, Micheal Caboose | Agent California | Micheal-210, F.I.L.S.S | Xi Summary: He was all sorts fucked up and didn’t want to admit it. Being alone for fourteen months didn’t help matters--except, well, Church was tired of being alone. Tired of people leaving and dying--and he thought, no more. I’m done. I’m out.

Won’t Say You’re Sorry (I / II / III)

Do You Even Feel Compassion? (I / II)

Name: Michael Caboose Age: 21 Service ID: Michael-210 Project Freelancer ID: California Record Notes:

Member of Class II of the SPARTAN-II Program on loan to Project Freelancer. Assigned to Omega Squad under Florida. Reported MIA to SPARTAN-II Program following failed implantation of ALPHA. Dr. Halsey provided additional information. Noted family within the Project; designations Four-Seven-Niner and Maine. See attached files.

Leonard pursed his lips. The failure of the ALPHA implantation still rubbed him rather raw; in part because of the damage it did to California and Alpha both, and in part because he needed Halsey’s help in essentially removing California from the SPARTAN-II Program. The discovery of California’s relation to Maine and Four-Seven-Niner was an unprecedented surprise, and one that Leonard worked hard to hide. There was no telling how they’d react to California being their brother, given the SPARTAN Program’s tendency to kidnap children and replace them with flash clones.

Name: Kaikaina Grif Age: 24 Service ID: 00215-85769-KG Project Freelancer ID: Kansas Record Notes:

Fast-tracked into Freelancer due to impeccable service record. Paired to Agent Florida for complimentary skills. Highly trained Infiltration Specialist with additional undercover training. Disruptive behavior noted. Noted family within the Project; Private Dexter Grif acquired from UNSC Military after medical discharge. See attached files.

Kansas was an interesting member of Project Freelancer. Leonard frowned lightly; Florida picked her up almost instantly and practically begged Leonard to let her be a part of his little sub team of infiltration specialists. Given how Kansas could seemingly shift the type of personality she put out Leonard wasn’t too hard pressed to give in to Florida’s request. Her brother, on the other hand, had an impeccable service record. If only the resulting trauma from his time in the military hadn’t ruined him he would’ve made a great agent himself.

Name: Franklin Delano Donut Age: 28 Service ID: 08295-64381-FD Project Freelancer ID: Hawaii Record Notes:

Arms Specialist reassigned to Freelancer per request. Specific training as Grenadier. Assigned to Beta Squad as rear support. Reassigned to Omega Squad per Florida’s request. Questionable comments from Agent noted. Counselor refuses to handle Agent.

Leonard snorted. He could remember Hawaii. He could remember the way Price left the room after Hawaii with such a constipated look on his face. Leonard found Hawaii amusing and a bit of a breath of fresh air. He’d watched the man turn heads with innuendo and how perfectly placed it was. He flipped the file and then frowned when he reached Montana.

Name: Jacob Jenkins. Age: 27 Service ID: 97165-32850-JJ Project Freelancer ID: Montana Record Notes:

Infiltration Specialist assigned to Omega Squad under Florida. Talented at information gathering. Acquired from outside UNSC Military and Navy per request. Prior history of criminal activity noted. See attached.

Montana, one of the KIA’s on the list supposedly noted to Agent Maine. Leonard closed his eyes and flipped the page. The last name on the list was Oregon.

Name: Cornelius Thromwell Andersmith Age: 29 Service ID: 55314-06289-CA Project Freelancer ID: Oregon Record Notes:

Acclaimed sniper; long range communications specialist. Acquired from Insurrectionist movement on abandoned colony planet Chorus. Concerning theories surrounding the loss of the Chorus colony. Assigned to Omega Squad under Florida.

Andersmith—Oregon—wasn’t even noted on the list of potentially missing or killed agents. It left Leonard curious as to why. With a sigh Leonard leaned back and folded his hands in front of his lips. The list was extensive, and almost all members at one point or another worked under Florida. Leonard had no doubt that Florida chose the “reinforcements” and “replacements” with care and purpose. Combine this ecclesiastic group of recruits with the ecclesiastic group of Sim Troopers and it made for a nice pretty picture.

It certainly fit the mimicry of the Desert Gulch troopers well, Leonard mused, but that wasn’t the important part. The important part was realizing that he’d missed this Agents and no one brought it to his attention. Leonard frowned and pulled the folders up side-by-side. He swiped away Montana’s—the agent was dead, there was nothing to be done there—and then swiped away California’s—that man was already far too attached to Alpha as it was.

Hawaii, Leonard noted, was actually on loan to the UNSC Ambassadorial team that Lavernius Tucker was assigned. Leonard tossed that file aside as well. That left Kansas—and Leonard grimaced at the thought. Kansas was a trip and a half, and what’s worse is that she’d have an attachment because her brother was on the Blood Gulch Red Team, despite her assignation to Blue Team Command. Plus Leonard couldn’t quite count on how she’d react to him pulling her back into the Freelancer mess with Alpha, Maine, and Washington.

Considering Agent Maine’s track record and that Kansas’ brother might be placed into the line of fire with her participation, Leonard paused the thought to contact her. That left, out of everyone, Oregon. Leonard pressed his lips together. Oregon was interesting, out of the group, although everyone Florida hand picked were, at their core, interesting. Out of everything there wasn’t much known about Oregon. His status as a former Insurrectionist was kept from everyone—although Florida unearthed it as Florida always did—but that wasn’t even the kicker, really. The fact that Oregon supposedly came from the Chorus colony, a colony that the UNSC had long listed as abandoned and lost due to unknown factors, but he’d had interesting tales to tell about the Chorus colony.

Leonard hummed and tapped on Oregon’s file.

“Xi, dear?”

Xi popped up. “Yes grandfather?”

“Contact Agent Oregon,” Leonard said. “I have a job for him.”

Xi flickered, and then said brightly, “Of course, grandfather!”

Leonard browsed the list again, and then mused, “And leave the surviving members as MIA. It would not due to alert any…specific parties to their true status. Or information. Use a backup of Gamma to assist you.”

“I don’t like Gamma,” Xi pouted.

“He’s a devious liar who will make the changes to their service records more believable,” Leonard pointed out logically. “If it makes you feel any better he cannot leave the containment unit.”

“Very well,” Xi relented and disappeared.

Leonard sighed. While frustrating that V.I.C. called all of Omega Squad following the reported death of Florida—by aspirin of all things—it was ultimately understandable. Leonard doubted that the death of Florida was a mere accident. The man was more than aware of his own weaknesses and paranoid to boot; it made him the perfect partner for V.I.C. in Blood Gulch. Still, the entirety of Omega Squad…Leonard frowned.

“Should have terminated that damn program,” Leonard grumbled. “Overreacting as always.” There was no real heat in the words though, merely exasperation, and honestly in the end that overreaction was perhaps the one reason why Alpha survived as long as he had. Leonard couldn’t’ fault V.I.C. his insane paranoia, given everything. Leonard found himself fairly paranoid now, even.

“Xi, end secure,” Leonard called out. He’d secluded himself away for long enough. Fairly quickly the data that Leonard viewed vanished, replaced with mundane information. F.I.L.S.S. popped back up on the screen, a waveform in the shape of an eye.

“Done, Director,” F.I.L.S.S. intoned.

“Thank you, F.I.L.S.S.,” Leonard sighed. “Thank you.”

They landed on Rhodam with little fanfare and were supplied a jeep much to Agent Washington’s consternation. Church caught something about fucking cars but decided not to press considering his own rather short fuse. He’d been strung like a wire ever since the call from the Director and prone to lash out at those around him. It reached the point that even Caboose started to avoid him if only because Church was so prickly right now.

When they finally did get into the jeep and drive away everything made sense.

“Where did you learn to drive?!” Church shrieked.

“I didn’t! Taught myself!” Wash shot back, pulled the jeep around a curve way too fast and Church gripped his seat tightly. In the back Caboose hollered like he was on some sort of rollercoaster ride. Church wanted to grab him, shake him, let him know their very lives were on the line here—when the jeep rolled over and came to a rather spectacular crash with them still inside.

“SONNOVABITCH!” Church screamed. He could hear a dangerous sort of rattle, then the sound of something cracking, and then there was smoke as the jeep rolled over the edge of a cliff. “YOU FUCKIIIIING DIIIIIIICK!” They rolled over and over—and Church swore Caboose started to moan in the way that meant he was going to be sick—before they came to a sickening crunch upside down.

For a moment they hung there, upside down, and then Church flailed as the reality sunk in. “Caboose? Caboose?!” he shouted.

“Ow,” Caboose said. “I think I do not like this ride, Church.”

“You and me both,” Church grumbled. He heard the faint sound of something like power armor scrambling for a buckle and with a start Church snapped, “Caboose don’t—” and then there came a definite click and Church grimaced at the followed thunk and then Caboose’s faint, “Ow.”

“We’re upside down, dumbass,” Church grumbled. “You better not have hurt your damn head any more than it already is.”

“I feel a bit sick,” Caboose said plainly.

“Don’t throw up!” Church shrieked, flailed, and scrambled for his own seatbelt.

“I think I smell fire, too,” Caboose said just as Church got his own seatbelt unbuckled and crashed down onto the roof of the jeep. “Yes, I smell fire. Church. Is the engine supposed to be on fire?”

“What?” Church pushed himself up, and then paled at the sight of flames on the front of the jeep. “How the fuck did he—”

“Uhm, Church,” Caboose continued, “I think we should leave. Soon. Fire is bad, right?”

“Right!” Church jolted into action. “Fire is very bad!” Church scrambled to get Washington unbuckled, grimaced at the sight of the man completely unmoving, and grunted when he eventually fell down onto Church.

Caboose scrambled out of the jeep, and then over to the side where he pried the door open and hauled both Church and Washington away from the wreckage with one under each arm. He ran fast, because Caboose was fast, in some random direction and only stopped when he heard the loud boom of the jeep completely, illogically, exploding. Only then did Caboose set Church down, and carefully set down Agent Washington.

“That should not have been possible,” Church grumbled and yanked off his helmet. He was never more thankful that Agent Washington insisted they wear full power armor in the jeeps even if he found the idea illogical at first. “Caboose, helmet off,” Church snapped out as he knelt down next to Agent Washington.

“Yes, Church,” Caboose replied and carefully pried his helmet off. Church worked on removing Washington’s helmet as well, and then bit back a curse when he saw the bleeding cut on the Freelancer’s head.

“Head wounds bleed a lot,” Church murmured consoling to himself. “They bleed a lot, he’s okay.” Carefully Church shifted Agent Washington to check at the neural implant interface in the back of his neck, and sighed in relief to see it fairly intact. “Probably concussion, but okay.”

Caboose dropped down beside Agent Washington, and Church moved to him next. He checked the back of Caboose’s neck and relaxed when he didn’t see anything damaged from the drop. Then Church moved in front of Caboose and began to check his reflexes. “Follow my finger,” Church said and then dragged his finger across Caboose’s vision. His eyes were off, Church noted. Sluggish, slow, and pupils oddly dilated. One looked larger than the other, and Church grimaced. “Definite concussion.”

“Bad?” Caboose asked.

“Yeah, Caboose, bad,” Church agreed tiredly. “Stay right here, watch him, and don’t fall asleep. I’m going to go and grab enough twigs to start a fire.” Church glanced up at the sky. “It’ll be getting dark soon.” Church was just thankful that Agent Washington crashed them right into a forest.

Wash groaned and rolled his head over something rather soft. He could smell dirt and trees and his head felt like someone jammed it with a hammer or ten. He could hear Church say something, and the smell of vomit, and then Caboose really loud. Wash flinched and squeezed open his eyes. Something bright nearly blinded him and he felt his stomach rebel angrily.

“What th’ fuck?” Wash rolled to his side and tried to push himself up.

“Slow down!”

Suddenly there were arms around him; they helped him up and carefully leaned him back against a tree and Wash winced. Who was—the face was blurred. He blinked and squinted and tried to parse what his brain saw.

“Dad?” Wash mumbled tiredly.

“Guess again, fuckface,” dad said and Wash listed slightly to the side. “Oh my fucking god, stay still. Drink some water. Here. Slowly.”

“Yer ‘n ass,” Wash mumbled while dad shoved a glass into his hands and helped him tip it back to drink. “Fuckin’ basterd.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure your old man is a complete asshole,” dad grumbled. “Follow my finger.” He dragged a finger in front of Wash’s face and Wash tried to follow but he couldn’t quite. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”

“Is Washingchurch okay?” Caboose asked and Wash felt a smile to his face. He kind of liked Caboose. The larger man reminded him a little bit of Maine in being a large, gentle giant. Well before Sigma, at least.

“No, Caboose, he really isn’t.” Dad scrubbed a hand down his face. “Fuck. I’m not a goddamn medic I can’t…fuck.”

“Why d’ ya cer?” Wash slurred. He listed to the side again, but dad grabbed him and straightened him up.

“I get it, daddy never cared for you, but fuck Washington I’m not your dad.”

Wash blinked, squinted, and tried to parse just what dad said.

“Bu’ ma…s’d…”

“God fuckin’ dammit, Washington, you picked me up from High Ground. I’m barely twenty-two!” dad shrieked.

Wash winced and squinted and then rasped, “Private…Church?”

“Finally,” Church threw his hands up into the air. “What do you remember?”

Wash grimaced and listed to the side. Church caught him with a soft curse. “Dun’…car?”

Church hissed between his teeth. “Yeah, there was a car. You were driving. We crashed. What the fuck.”

Wash listed to the other side and Church quickly grabbed him again. He prompted Wash to drink and Wash did so, except he felt really tired. All of this was just too much. Dad and Church and his head hurt and he couldn’t see straight and he wanted his ma something fierce. “M’sorry.”

“Goddammit Wash don’t you fall asleep—Wash—David! David you stay the fuck awake!”

Wash listed to the side, his eyes slipped shut, and he fell back into unconsciousness.

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salutethepig · 5 years

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My Dad's pigs

Well, strictly, there weren’t his.

OK, I’d better give you some more background hadn’t I? There’s already some words on my Mum in this blog from earlier, so it seems only right that he also gets a fair crack of the narrative whip in my ongoing pig tales. And I’m actually more than a little surprised that I’ve not got around to talking that much about them — except in passing — until now, some years after the blog was started. So, sorry to you both! I love you; it wasn’t a deliberate slight 🙂

But first, here’s a shot of the (in-)Famous Five. Not sure where this was taken but I’m the one on the right in the back row. By the way, you will note that my pristine discriminate suss vis a vis clothes, hair-cuts and general hard-core posing, has always been with me…

Dad had an interesting, varied life. He’d been a merchant sailor on the Russian Convoys in WWII. He’d graduated from the Royal College of Music as a pianist and, initially at least, taught piano, but after he’d met my Mum (met up again that is; they’d split up and gone their separate ways, until Mum went down to Devon and, so her version goes, “dragged him back to Oxford and away from that other woman”), five children came along in rapid succession and it was soon apparent that the measly pay offered a music teacher wasn’t enough to support us all. Taking a cue from his own Dad, he re-trained as an accountant and started working for firms up & down the country. We moved. A lot. By the first 10 years of my life, I think we’d had 4 or 5 different places we called home.

And a couple of early shots of them attending someone elses’ wedding and, in the second, their own.

[I’ve even recently attempted to map some of the houses — it’s available here as The Bulow Clan homes for any of you stalkers out there — and, using Street-view, took a look at how they’re doing now. It’s quite surprising quite how much hasn’t changed from my memories of them, memories in some cases, from over 40 years ago]

Whilst it meant that we were forever making & then saying good-bye to short-lived friendships (at first those children next door, or just along the road, then later, those at primary school), it also resulted in us becoming a superbly well-tuned and tight-knit fighting unit, skilled at packing up one day and then efficiently moving these 7 people, their dog and their furniture to a new location, the very next day. I think I said before that my Mum could easily have organised the Normandy landings — her grasp of logistics was that good. We were the civvie equivalent of the Royal Engineers, moving men, vehicles & supplies through a devastated wasteland.

Here’s a later retirement shot — from the back garden in their nice, newly built, modern house. Finally, my Mum got to have a house that she didn’t have to look after all the time. Didn’t stop her still doing so, mind you…

And then, just like that, Dad gave up the life of an accountant and became a pig farmer. Well, in my memory, it was like that. In all likelihood, it took probably a few weeks or months — at least — to convince my Mum that this wasn’t the most insane idea he’d ever had. Dad was bright (and funny and kind), but sometimes you wouldn’t know it. He also could (and did) drink. And that was a problem at times. I recall being driven by him (in retrospect, a very pissed him) at high-speed around Bournemouth, where we were visiting his parents and after he’d had a row with Mum. He was often pretty useless with money; rather surprising for an accountant and I recall Mum keeping separate little pots for each bill and, once or twice we kids and Mum had to hide silently under the bed and pretend that we weren’t in, when the milkman (or similar dunned debtor) came a’ knockin’.

But become a pig farmer he did. There were, I’m sure, some sharply hissed, unkind words from behind the closed bedroom door or from the front-room, as they discussed it, but again, in my memory, we just effortlessly and calmly segued into our new lives on farms. Dad had always loved pigs, working with them in Devon, so, whilst an unexpected change of tack — at least to us — maybe not a total bombshell for my Mum. Who knows now? But there we were. Living in farm cottages as Dad never owned his own farm; he was always a tenant farmer. But one big advantage of this was that the job came complete with a large house. I’m sure the wages were pretty crap but at least they didn’t have to find rent money and were able to have separate bed-rooms for (most) of us!

Here’s the place at Kingsdown, in Kent. We moved here when I was just 11, from the previous farm in Essex. This was the last one he worked at and it specialised in careful, highly skilled breeding programmes. Now. this pristine, white house is divided into two properties but when we were there, it was all ours. Complete with nests of rats under the garden shed. An endless source of fun for us and the family and farm dogs. Corn fields behind. Bluebell woods on the horizon. And an old Royal Marine training ground further along the farm road — dangerous as all hell, full of collapsing tunnels, hidden drops and unstable sandy banks, so therefore irresistible to us.

And here, the farm buildings that housed the pigs, now looking almost deserted (and a likely asbestos health & safety nightmare), but these were where Dad worked, where we all ‘helped’ him and, from the concrete jetties, where the animals were loaded and off-loaded. The grain store and chute, at the back, was another treasure trove of rats for hunting. Oh, and it also had a large oil-drum sized tub of black molasses given to the pigs to supplement their diet. Scooping a fistful out when no one was looking, was a treat for all of us kids.

And so, as I said therefore, not his pigs. But as far as the porkers and we were concerned, they may as well have been. He loved them. He cared for them. He bedded them down when they were ill, supervised their births, farrowing, feeding, growth and deaths. As a breeding experimental site, we had quite tight access controls (for that time); and the occasional foot & mouth outbreaks nearby meant we often went into lock-down and once — luckily only the once — we had to watch as all the animals there had to be killed and burnt. An horrific sight, sounds and a smell that lingered in the air and clothes and even the hedgerows for days afterward. A lot of us cried that day. Including my Dad.

An earlier farm was also the cause of more than one or two nightmares for me. The pig manure was swept into huge underground pits (using what were, in effect, giant rubberised Squeegee mops) from where it was rather (to me) ingeniously pumped out, through a network of pipes either onto the nearby fields or into tankers for disposal elsewhere. Leaning over the manhole covers, seeing the churning, stinking dark, seething mass below, made me wake screaming in the night as I ‘watched’ Dad slip into it and get sucked away.

Gentle reader? Of course, it never happened. For which I for one am profoundly grateful. He went on to live for another 30 years or so.

But “what about the pigs”, I hear you cry? “Tell us more about them”?

Despite (or rather because of) the intensive breeding attempts, these weren’t anything special — certainly not rare breed types, just pink & large — except in their ability to grow quickly to weight, to be low in fat, to produce large litters. You know, the same as everyone else, the same as almost the entire rest of the world was looking for. We (Dad and his fellow pig-herds) were ‘guilty’ of the crimes I’ve previously excoriated the English farmer for. I suppose we could claim that this was a different time and that we “knew no better”, and in all honesty, I think that’s pretty much the case. I don’t recall anyone then extolling the benefits of the old style pigs — hardier, tastier, able to live outside — whilst calling for them to be retained. The dash for profit was headlong and Dad’s employers weren’t immune to that siren call. So these ones weren’t kept outside; they lived in inside sties. The floors were concrete (although they had huge quantities of fresh straw changed twice daily to move around on, root round in, dig for their food in). Food was generally high-energy pellets. They got given some fruit on occasions. But precisely because this was a breeding farm and the owner was paranoid about infections or diseases from outside, pigs weren’t allowed the scraps and swill from school canteens that we saw used on the earlier farms.

Ideal? No. Unfeeling? Yes, pretty much I guess. The sows had large-ish farrowing crates even then, so the natural bonding that should occur was less likely to happen. We docked tails. We de-tusked the boars. They didn’t get to run around outside, to root, to dig, to play in the way that this most sociable of animals needs to. And whilst I never saw anyone treating them cruelly or unkindly, still, this was a processing operation. I’m not happy looking back at the lives these animals led because of us. I’m unsure how to end this piece. For the time and place, they had a better life than some and Dad was uniformly caring of them. I suppose that’s the best I can say. Somehow though, it doesn’t seem a fitting epitaph for all the work and care and effort that he put into his animals. We never really spoke about this or how welfare for animals had changed when we’d both got older. And I regret that. And I miss him. Of course. But I think he’d have approved of my coming back to write about these lovely creatures. Thanks Bernie. For everything.

Oh, and one last thing? As far as I know, we’re not related to this branch of the extended Bulow Clan. We visited there whilst living in Florida. A beautiful place, calm, green, verdant. And yet. And yet. The stench of slavery — like burning pork — doesn’t wash away, even in the torrential Florida rains…

In 1821, Major Charles Wilhelm Bulow acquired 4,675 acres of wilderness bordering a tidal creek that would later bear his name. Using slave labor, he cleared 2,200 acres and planted sugar cane, cotton, rice and indigo. Major Bulow died in 1823, leaving the newly established plantation to his seventeen year old son, John Joachim Bulow.

After completing his education in Paris, John Bulow returned to the Territory of Florida to manage the plantation. Young Bulow proved to be very capable. John James Audubon, the famous naturalist, was a guest at the plantation during Christmas week 1831. In a letter to a patron, Audubon wrote:

“Mr. J.J. Bulow, a rich planter, at whose home myself and party have been for a whole week under the most hospitable and welcome treatment is now erecting some extensive buildings for a sugar house.” Bulowville, Florida December 31, 1831.

Bulow’s sugar mill, constructed of local “coquina” rock, was the largest mill in East Florida. At the boat slips, flatboats were loaded with barrels of raw sugar and molasses and floated down Bulow Creek to be shipped north. This frontier industry came to an abrupt end at the outbreak of the Second Seminole War. In January 1836, a band of raiding Seminole Indians, resisting removal to the West, looted and burned the plantation. It would never recover. Bulow returned to Paris where he died the same year.

Today, the coquina walls and chimneys of the sugar mill remain standing as a monument to the rise and fall of the sugar plantations of East Florida.

My Dad’s pigs was originally published on Salute The Pig

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kendrixtermina · 7 years

Text

The Trump Presidency

So, it is upon us.

[Plays fitting music]

I see 5 basic possibilities of where this could go. So here, in Order of Badness:

Scenario I: He’s Removed early on

I’ve almost completely given up on this one after the electoral college confirmed him - the system seems to be transisting neatly, no one is pointing at these 3 million more votes Clinton had - Also, Clinton herself wouldn’t fight here, she simply is a system person.

He could still be impeached, but he’s persistently proven that nothing sticks to him and he can slime his way out of everything. Normal rules just don’t apply.

It’s not like I don’t understand why they’re playing ball, anarchy is scary. I still don’t think it would be inevitable.

But - What’s true is that him being elected is horrible even if it doesn’t come to him being president; It’s a horrid thing that was better off not happening.

First there’s the question of legitimacy issues (he DID win - if he were removed the electoral college would need to go in the same breath) and riots - His supporters have proven that they’re violent and Trump is utterly careless.

Also, who’d replace him? Probably a republican, most likely Paul Ryan or Mike Pence. They have the advantage of not being insane manchildren so they probably won’t cause a war, but, they are goddawful bigots and life for minorities would still be bad.

A moderate republican would be an unlikely best-case scenario, because Trump has torn down all shame; Even if his impeachment softens this it’s not like it will be like he never happened; The definition of “unacceptable” has been altered.

I give this about 5%.

Scenario II: He has no clue what he’s doing

As in, his sole goal is to enrich and aggrandize himself, and he’s got nothing planned beyond that; He said all those things for shock factor and attention and people ate it up.

There will be corporate plundering, social issues wont be solved, the country will be seriously mismanaged for a few years and life will suck, but beyond that, nothing worse will happen, at least no globally.

Of course even if he doesn’t hunt minorities he won’t care about them and his supporters sure hate them, so they will suffer, but, like, none of the super extreme egregious things will happen. America will just get a little suckier, in the vein of how it has already been sucking and getting people trampled underfoot.

You know things are bad when the president’s utter incompetence is the best case we can realistically hope for.

But even like this, he could do serious damage outside America; Maybe not to caucassian people, but, you saw the reaction the Taiwan tweet got. China’s spent ages waiting for pretexts to invade shit; Taiwan is a democracy where millions of people live. People will die, and Trump will have killed them.

Also, who profits most if the US and China compete & Sabotage each other? Russia. They could never compete with either of the other two world powers economically, but if they outplot us they can seize dominance. That said, the Chinese are ruthless, but pragmatic. They are nit fools. But, we shouldn’t be depending on the level-headedness of the Chinese to begin with!

Either way it will be a stagnation and a burden on world politics; The USA will go from being a however sneaky ally who nominally works for peace democracy & shit to being a liability, a big manchild for Merkel and the others to contain & babysit - and this comes at a time when France and Britain are in turmoil, too. It’s a mass carambolage of suck we do not need.

The silver lining is that this makes him unlikely to be reelected, although that may depend on the Republicans’ ability to control him - a stuation where Trump does rallies and his cabinent does actual policy ( A possibility which I like to call Scenario II b): The Puppet King) might be terrifyingly effective, although mainstream republicans would be less likely to throw the world into chaos.

That said, Trump has proven very pig-headed; He doesn’t know where his strenghts & weaknesses are. And it is no use to rely on the republicans to stop him, they proved their spinelessness when they defected to his side once he seemed to be winning. This is some Gul Dukat Allies With The Dominion level shit; They sold us all.

I give this 35%

Scenario III: He goes through with it

As in, all of it; He actually go through with even the most egregious and cray-cray of his promises, stopped only by the laws of physics and other countries.

He’ll build the wall. He’ll do the muslim registry. The flag burning penalty. The lowkey neonzi pandering. He might even “lock her up” a few years down the line.

Needless to say, that will make dear ol’ murrica a very oppresive place. Somewhere people flee from instead of to. He might well bankrupt the country. But since it will please his cronies and disenfrachise those who would oppose him, this is the one scenario where he has the greatest chance for reelection. He needn’t care abou those who oppose him - all that matters is keeping the confused confused and keeping the flock in their own little parallel universe.

Also, even though he is a wishy washy narcissist, he’s surrounded himself with terrible people who will push him toward going through.

I give this 45%, the most out of any option, because he has proven again and again that he means business no matter how much everyone assumes he doesn’t. Heck, he’s already about to repeal all public health laws. Before long he’ll have killed people.

Scenario VI: He goes Full Dictator

I don’t think this is particularly likely, but the very fact that it’s

If he WERE to go Dictator, media control, erosion of minority rights and especially military would be what he’d do next. What makes me hopeful is that so far he’s been more isolationist than militaristic but there HAVE been hawkish quotes and the generals in his cabinet. Also he’d by definition do things worse than what he promised - Internment camps are almost a given, they happened before.

Could mean nothing, could be an omen, you only ever know after the fact.

Another arguments against is that he doesn’t really have a strong ideological core a la Hitler or Stalin. He’s pretty wishy-washy and his answers depend on who he’s talking to.

If he were to do this tho, his takeover would be more gradual like Ergogan’s and Putin’s. more comfortable, less risky than hitler style. Or it might be a wholly new, uniquely USA flavor involving lots of dollar bills.

I give this 15%

Best Case ATM:

Democrats change & regroup under Sanders and Warren, become popular by criticising Trump - remember, most ppl don’t want him.

Also, he might be so incompetent that he can’t explain it away and the mismanaged people oust him gloriously (see Obama’s victory); At least no one can pretend that racism, xenophobia and anti-intellectualism aren’t rampant, and the US can’t play infallible world police anymore.

Also if he’s a 1 term president this could seriously impact the republicans and make them reorient themselves - after all, the baby boomers ain’t gonna live forever.

Please make this the end of the American Exceptionalism that created this travesty in the first place.

#trump #donald trum #murrica #USA #drumpf #dumptrump #fuck donald trump #donald trump #donald j trump

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