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fandomsnstuff · 4 years

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Angus figures everything out and fucks up Lucretia’s whole Thing AU

Lucretia hires angus, innoculates him, and is like this is the deal with those missing people cases you were investigating

Angus says oh okay! This totally and completely satiases my curiosity :)

Internally angus says this is sus as hell

So he does what he does best, he snoops

So angus is snooping and somehow, cause he's a little crime boy who can sneak around real good, he finds the starblaster

He's like what the fuck is this

He gets in, and it's.....odd. he doesnt linger in any one room too long, he just kind of pokes his head into the bedrooms and moves on (he figures he shouldnt stay here too long, lest he get caught)

But the most peculiar thing is how lived in this place looks. There's mismatched furniture with throw pillows and blankets in the common area, a chore chart on the fridge, the bedrooms are all cluttered with knick knacks and clothes, beds unmade, theres a lab with papers scattered around tables and taped to the wall

But one room catches his attention

It's... fairly simple, and emptier than the others. Bookshelf with some books missing, a bare desk, but what catches his attention is the pile of red on the bed

He goes to investigate and finds robes and jackets, all with an odd patch and names embroidered on them

He finds, in this order:

A robe with "lucretia" embroidered on it

A jacket and robe, together as if someone had been wearing them at the same time, with "lup" and "taako"

A jacket with "davenport"

A robe with "merle"

A jacket with "magnus"

(there’s no barry robe cause he fell off the ship with it, these are the robes/jackets lucretia took off of the crew members as she sent them off to their new lives)

Now. This is after crystal kingdom and angus was at the candlenights party. He knows the director's name is lucretia

He knows who Davenport is

He knows who taako, magnus, and merle are

This is pre-LUP incident, so he doesnt know who lup is

Angus, appropriately freaked out, puts them all back and BOLTS

Angus vacates the premises

Runs back to his room

He tries to figure out what this all means, but his thoughts dodge around the obvious conclusion that's right in front of him

Hes too nervous to go back, it's not until the L U P incident that he decides okay. I have to go back

So he goes back. He goes into the room labeled Captain's Quarters (although "captain" has been scratched out and changed to "cap'nport". Angus doesnt think too hard about what that means)

In the desk he finds some folders with the same weird logo as the robes and jackets. He doesnt look in them. Not yet. He can do that back in his room. He cant spend too much time here.

Then he goes to the lab. He doesnt know what hes looking for, but he grabs ones that seem important. A notebook or two. Some papers clipped together. He just grabs and shoves them into his bag and he fuckin bolts again

he looks at what he grabbed and some of it he can read, some of it he can't

They lived in that ship. They were going on a mission for something. They made the grand relics to stop something. Theres a lot of notes on the planes.

Angus recognizes the way some stuff is redacted, and he kind of figures out that there must be another voidfish. And if the directors name was on one of those robes, maybe she has it.

Refuge mission comes and goes

Angus, cause he's so fucking good, is able to sneak back into lucretias personal quarters and finds junior. He fills a water bottle with the ichor and gets the fuck outta there

He gets back to his room, innoculates himself and is like AAAAAAAAAA

Cause he can finally put it all together properly

And he basically pieces together the whole hunger situation himself with the notes he grabbed

The stuff he grabbed from davenports room was the crew's like profiles or whatever from when they got hired on to the mission so angus now knows who lup is

So angus is like oh i GOTTA fix this

So he heads down to the reclaimers dorm with his bottle of ichor

Angus: i need you to drink this Merle: what is it? Angus: voidfish ichor Taako: *laughs* hate to break it to you kid, we already drank the voidfish juice. Angus: just- please? Magnus: yeah alright

So magnus drinks it. His breath catches and he kinda goes weak and he's shaking and he drops to his knees. After a minute or two (or more) he looks up at angus. "Holy shit," he says. He grabs the bottle from where he dropped it and holds it out to taako and merle. "Drink it." He says.

"Yeah alright," merle says. Same deal as with magnus.

Once merle collects himself, they both turn to taako.

"Yeah, alright. Sure. Let's get taako in on this weird party," he says, taking the bottle and drinking

This time, magnus is ready and he catches taako when his knees give out

"Im gonna fucking kill her," taako mumbles into magnus' shoulder, his knuckles white as he grips his shirt.

"You're not gonna kill her."

"Im gonna fucking hit her so HARD, i swear to god."

Taako keeps his face in magnus' shoulder, but magnus and merle watch as angus crosses the room to where taako had left the umbrastaff, and he walks back over to magnus and taako on the floor

"Sir?" Taako looks up at angus. Angus holds the umbrella out, "i think i know where your sister is."

(Lup, meanwhile, in the staff: HEEEEELLLLL YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH)

It takes taako a second, but he realizes what angus is saying and scrambles out of magnus' hold and to his feet. He takes the umbrella and lifts it, about to snap it when angus says, "wait!"

Taako glares at him. "Ive waited ten years, kid. Make it snappy." "Madame director had a holy symbol in her office. I think it would ward against your sister, if shes a lich." "Uuugggggghhhhhhhhh LUCRETIAAAAAA"

The four of them go down planetside under the guise of a magic lesson and not wanting to burn any more "cryptic messages" into the walls

Taako snaps that fuckin umbrella as soon as his feet hit solid ground

Lup's back!

Lup does some magic shit to summon barry, so barold shows up, happy reunion, and then a Discussion on what to do re: davenport not being innoculated and re: lucretia

Their plan boils down to this: thb and angus will go back to the moon and act as if this never happened. As far as lucretia knows, thb are still under junior's influence

As soon as they can get davenport alone without rousing any suspicion, they bring him to their room and innoculate him. Once he's got his memories back, he'll be powerful enough to a) get his bracer off/disable the tracking spell in it and b) get off the base undetected

Davenport will definitely not want to go back to playing butler, so he'll sneak off the base and hang out with lup and barry until lucretia sends the boys to wonderland

When the boys get sent to wonderland, theyll meet up, get the bell all together, and THEN confront lucretia, cause at that point theyll have the whole light, and they'll have Options

So they do just that. They go back and innoculate davenport a few days later, a week at most

A panic ensues once everyone realizes davenport is missing

AND the tracking in his bracer is turning up nothing

Lucretia's blood pressure has never been higher

But everything goes as business per usual

Lucretia, oddly enough, suspects nothing re: the boys ‘cause surely they wouldve confronted her if they remembered

The boys get sent down to wonderland. They meet up with blupjeans and dav at the entrance. With the six of them with all their memories and full access to their skills they take edward and lydia down in like 30 minutes. Tops.

So edward and lydia get their asses thoroughly handed to them by the six of them

(Davenport has the time of his LIFE)

They head back to the lich cave, barry gets in his new body and gets innoculated (the boys brought some ichor with them for him)

Lup possesses barry, then barry-with-lup and dav get in the pocket spa and back up to the moon they go

Lucretia is in her office when avi comes knocking "Uh... director? The boys are coming back." "Already?" "Yeah." "Are you sure it's them?" "Yep."

Lucretia is.... stunned. It's been... an hour and a half. Two, maybe. She has full faith in the boys but they took down wonderland in two hours?????

Not even two hours

She goes to meet them, highly suspicious

But they arrive and, sure enough, it's them. No magic. No tricks. It's them, for sure.

taako has the bell and hes just holding it casually from the top as if it isnt one of the most powerful magic items in existence. And she can tell he isnt thralled, that's just how hes decided to transport it.

Lucretia: ive got to admit, you boys took care of that...much faster than i expected Magnus: ah, it was no big Merle: piece of cake! Taako: yeah, luce, shit was easy. Dunno what you were talkin' about earlier.

And lucretia just freezes. Luce. Thats what taako called her. It’s what they all called her, really, but it’s the nickname Taako took 4 whole cycles to give to her, officially cracking the door of friendship open to her. And she looks him in the eyes and she knows that he knows. And she looks at merle and magnus and she can tell they know, too.

And taako gives her a venomous smile, all teeth, and says, "why dont we go have a little chat, madame director" and she flinches at the way he spits out her title

She doesnt know what to do but nod and turn to leave. As she turns, there's angus, looking up at her with a determined set to his brow, and she knows he knows too

They head back to her office, and taako pulls the pocket spa out, and before lucretia can ask him what hes doing, out walks barry and davenport. And barrys eyes have got that red glow about them, so she knows lup's here too.

"Take down the lich ward, lucretia," barry says.

She does, and now there's a firey, red robed lich among them.

Now this is where things get a little iffy for how they work out but here's what i got

They have a similar confrontation as canon where theyre bickering about staying or going, shield or no shield, and im thinking this is where taako has his "there's a third option" realization

And, because they did extreme wonderland speedrun, and they didnt take a whole extra day to travel to the lich cave and just used fuckin magic to get there, theyre a whole day ahead of where they were in canon

The hunger is close enough at this point tho that they can enact the plan like. Now.

But magnus insists on returning Fisher's baby to them first

As magnus takes junior, lucretia works on getting the base secured and getting the bureau members ready for if the hunger touches down before they can cut it off

Magnus goes down to fisher with the baby, he takes his axe and swings, breaking the tank open

Johann, still alive and now soaking wet, is like dude wtf

Magnus returns the baby and out goes the story and song

Now johann is REALLY like DUDE WTF

Magnus is like im off to save the universe. Peace.

So since theyre a whole day ahead of the hunger, all seven of them go up in the ship

And then they fight and they win and they cut the hunger off and it's rad

The end

#taz au #angus mcdonald #taz balance #magnus burnsides #merle highchurch #taako taaco #taako #taz taako #taz lucretia #lucretia adventurezone

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ask-codeearasure · 4 years

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Questions and Answers

Question: Why did you combine Dreamtale and Mafiatale together for Dream and Nightmare?

Answer:

I did so because I thought it would be fun. I like to go with the most wacky and zany ideas because to me it’s fun. Think of Treasure Planet.

How can they breathe in space? Why are the spaceships like boats? I DON’T KNOW BUT IT’S FUN AND COOL AND FUCKING AMAZING!

I love that fun shit. Fuck serious shit, let me have my fun. But, also I like to add serious tones to it but the thing is, is that too much seriousness is not fun. Think of Teen Titans, it was a funny as shit show but also had serious undertones that would seemingly come up out of nowhere but it did so in a way that let the viewer take them seriously because of how they complimented the comedy. Angst and drama works in small bursts, but you can never have enough comedy. If you don’t let yourself have fun, you are going to lose interest in your own creation and no one wants that.

Also there was a deeper reason for this. A good while ago (fuck my memory) several people were having very serious issues with a guy called ManiaKnight, and his treatment towards people during these event things where he’d roleplay as several characters, such as Ink, Error and push narratives, however he’d use the characters to gaslight and manipulate those who had joined the events.

He made it all super dark, serious and edgy in the worst way possible and people wanted him to lighten it up via Dream. However for some reason Mania hated Dream and so out of spite he made Dream an Amalgamation, and thus normal Dream became a symbol of “Fuck you Mania” for the people who were tired if Mania’s bullshit.

A former friend of mine had vented to me about this so I designed Mafia!Dream to help encourage their “rebellion”. One thing led to another and here I am! We’ve been having fun with the characters since then.

Question: Is Error obsessed with Hazbin Hotel?

Answer:

No, I made a few Hazbin Hotel jokes in OOC because I fucking loved the pilot and couldn’t help myself because I’m a massive goober. Also FYI. Error is actually obsessed with Gambling, and doesn’t know Novella exists nor would he care that it exists.

My version of Error is not much like normal Error.

Question: Why’d you make Dream and Nightmare hoomans?? Nightmare looks like a onceler >:(

Answer:

The AU that my Nightmare and Dream are from requires them to go to the human world, so they need a human disguise. Thus they use illusions to make them look human. They’re not actually humans. They’re monsters with illusion magic. The humans in their AU don’t know that Monsters exist.

Let me elaborate, sorry for Spoilers.

Nightmare and Dream’s AU is extremely different from Dreamtale.

Mafia!Dreamtale is an AU where Dream and Nightmare are from two different realms of reality that they’re named after. The Nightmare Realm and the Dream Realm. Monsters are from these realms and consume desires and only feel certain emotions.

Dream Realm: They only feel Positive Emotions and eat Positive Desires

Nightmare Realm: They only feel Negative Emotions and eat Negative Desires.

They need to go to the human realm in order to collect these desires because the human realm is in the beginning of an Industrial Revolution and sleep has been practically outlawed because people are more concerned with progressing technology. In this AU Sleep Medicine and Alcohol are outlawed and give you time in prison if you’re caught with them.

Nightmare and Dream both make and sell these products. Nightmare sells alcohol, Dream sells Sleep Medication. Which is why they need to go to the human world and why they have the illusions.

Question: Are you tryna butcher every AU sans you come across gurl

Answer:

If by “butcher” you mean switch shit up and have fun. Then yes. Yes I am. I’m not trying to be accurate to the source material. You assuming that I’m trying to stay accurate to the source material is just that. An assumption. Not the truth.

Aren’t you tired of the same ideas over and over and over and over again? Let’s get extreme! Let’s go ham! LETS FUCKING GO! FUCK, KINGDOME HEARTS!TALE LETS GO -- okay but in all seriousness. Let’s look at all the AUs that we have. Where are the more zany ones? Where are some that just go weird and shit comes from seemingly left field before doing a nose dive into weirder territory? Why not have fun?

Fuck, I’ve seen Harry Potter meets My Little Pony fanfictions that are twice as fun than some of the AUs that I’ve seen.

Outertale is just Undertale but in Space! Can we go a little bit harder on the concept? Let’s push it just a little bit further. What else can we do with this concept? Are there space theme magic? What about when the monster’s die? Do they become dust? Stardust? Why not push the concept a bit further? What if they went supernova? What about that? Can we go further or are you just content with Undertale but in space? What if we made the story take place in the year 3000?

(Note: I don’t know much about Outertale. I only used it as an example.)

Question: Why is your Horror based on Japanese mythology?

Answer:

I wanted him to be different and I like going all out with my characters. I like basing them off of different things. I wanted my versions of the characters to be different. I didn’t want to be blatantly ripping off others. I know the originals are great! But I didn’t want to feel like I was ripping them off and claiming them as my own. But I also wanted to show off some individuality. I wanted to deviate for the sake of fun. I wanted to go all out. There is nothing wrong with changing things up.

Horror is actually mainly based off of the Blood Moon skins from League of Legends. But it got my interest in Japanese mythology going again so I decided to mix that in there BUT that is also because The Blood Moon Skins are based in Ionia a region on Runeterra (the world of League of Legends) that is based off of Japan and… well.. Asia in general. So I got those two things and mixed them together and started to switch shit up. Change the Blood Moon idea into something new! I want to make things different.

Question: Is Dust based off of Assassin’s Creed???

Answer:

I have never played Assassin’s Creed. The closest thing to it I’ve played is League of Legends’ Pyke, and Ekko; and with Watch_Dogs (the second one) but I haven’t gotten past the first level because I had to focus on my college education and I haven’t had the time to play through it.

Dust is based off of Alice in Wonderland, Alice: Through the Looking Glass, American McGee’s Alice, Alice: the Madness Returns, Dr. Spencer Ried from Criminal Minds, Sheldon Cooper from the Big Bamg Theory, Ekko the Boy Who Shattered Time from League of Legends, Visual Kei, and the image in this Youtube video: https://youtu.be/jJ0qDlyrGow

It’s weird that you came to such a conclusion because everyone else keeps telling me he looks like he’s from Kingdom Hearts, which is hilarious! Dear god, I don’t see either! Someone needs to break this down to me because I must be fucking blind.

(Ps. Please send the music artists in that video love, adoration, support, and money. They’re amazing and need more of everything positive.)

Question: Killer looks like a walking JoJo reference!!! Is he??

Answer:

Nope. I didn’t even watch Jojo when I designed him -- which reminds me I still need to binge the show. Killer is actually based off of Tanya Degurechaff from Saga of Tanya the Evil, and Edward Elric from FullMetal Alchemist and FullMetal Alchemist: Brotherhood.

His story will barely even reflect this. And I know what you’re thinking “So original/sarcasm” well there is no such thing as originality. As an artist (which writing even falls under). Everything is inspired and based on something.

To quote Picasso “Good artists copy, Great artists steal”. Now this can be taken in a horrible way but it’s talking about technique. You can steal a technique and those techniques are something you are even taught in art school. You can take inspirations and those inspirations are dependent on how they are used. In this context, the technique is a trope. Tropes are dependent on how they are used and executed. And yes I might switch up Killer’s design a bit, but at the same time I like his design but I don’t think I will change it right now, I need to think about it, because now that I think about it, it’s not much of a military uniform but that’s because of his jacket. I will have to add a bit more detail to his uniform. Also the shadow behind him is a visual signifier of the Chara part of his soul (he absorbed Chara’s Soul but her soul is still active) which is awake and can still talk, but it's more like she is talking through him a voice emanating from his soul -- perhaps that’s why he looks so… Jojo-y?... I’m going to have to go through his design with a fine tooth comb to switch it up a little more.

“Question:” WHY IS BERRY TOO CUTE AND TOO MUCH OF A BABIE!! I HATE THOSE KIND OF BERRIES AND I WANNA MURDER THAT THING FGHJKL!!!!!!111!!

Answer:

That isn’t my problem bud. I don’t cater to anyone. If you think he’s too cute, that’s not my problem. Hell I made him that way because my version of Berry -- Cyber!Berry -- is literally a 3 year old who is super intelligent but still a child. I’m not sure if you’ve ever seen a 3 year old, but they look so fucking cute. But if you don’t vibe with cute things… that’s a you thing, not a me thing.

It’s your problem. Not mine. You don’t have to like my designs.

“Question:” i hate ur characters, they made me cry because of how badly designed they are hurrrr durrrrr

Answer:

Not my problem, I’m not catering to anyone. You hating my characters doesn’t mean shit. After all, let's point out the obvious… it’s just your opinion. You don’t have to like my designs. They weren’t made specifically for you. They were made for fun not for you. I’m not going to cater to you. Do yourself a favor and go away and find something you do like,or find the best discount at Macy’s, or send your favorite creator love, because those things are better than wasting your time and more importantly mine and my friends’. If you wish to stay strictly to bitch, bemoan and troll, please cry directly into my coffee mug, your salty tears give me life.

#faq post #qna #Code: Erasure

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bisexual-inuyasha · 5 years

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Promises Made, Promises Kept

AN: Canon-divergent. Ling is absorbed along with Greed, but his philosopher’s stone survives with Ling inside. Ed is told he can save him.

Ed splayed across his bed. Dark smudged under his eyes like shadows. Research was never easy. This research was harder than anything he’d undertaken. So many rules had never needed breaking. He’d never been so unwilling to break them.

A clock ticked beside him. Every second counted down closer to all of this being over. The sound was mesmerizing.

Tick—tick—tick—tick.

His eyes grew heavy. The sky lightened to the east. Ed curled into a ball, clutched his pillow over his eyes, and fell asleep.

On the tray beside his bed, surrounded by the tools of transmutation, a red stone glowed in the sunrise. A vial of similarly colored liquid rested beside it.

There is a way to bring him back. I can show you, for a price. It is all the way, far away in his Truth. Do you want it, Edward Elric?

The world was cold. A hand, colder and empty all the way through, reached for his. He pulled his hand away but it grabbed. When the Truth reached him, it took everything.

He saw a palace, extravagant and golden. A yellow shirt lay resting on his bed in his apartment in the city. A thousand faces pushed against their binding, a thousand souls reached for him. The sun set a hundred times and rose a hundred more and still the only sound Ed could hear was a heartbeat. All the world moved on without him, far away, unattainable.

Hunger gnawed on his desire. Anger burned low in his belly. He reached and reached and nothing found him. Finally, he turned around, unable to watch the world any longer. A pair of eyes caught his.

The last eyes he saw belonged to him—all the way in his Truth. And then Ed disappeared.

Ed jolted awake. The sun poured in through his window. Frost climbed up the panes. Outside, snow surrounded his small mountain cabin. His blanket lay folded on a chair across the room. His jacket lay crumpled on the floor. Ling would be cross with him if he saw the state Ed was in.

He’d probably tell him so with a snarky joke and a gentle touch.

“Yeah, well, if you want to chastise me come out here and do it then.” The stone did not respond. It never did. “I’m going to try a new circle today. Mei says she may have an idea from Xing that could work, but she’s practicing first. We don’t want to hurt you whenever we pull you out of there.”

He swung his legs over the side of his bed. His shoulders and joints ached. His head swam when he stood. He’d forgotten to eat yesterday. From the creaking of his knees, he’d forgotten to drink as well. He rubbed his eyes and hurried to his cabinets. Dust and cobwebs collected in the corners. Everywhere else was bare.

He sat down and fiddled with his braid.

Alphonse would find him soon. When he did, the game would be over for a while. Until he found his way away again. Somewhere new to hide. Some new thread of evidence he could find.

“I hope you’re working from inside get out. I’d hate to find out you were just lazing around.” Ed considered his meal options. He could make his way down the mountain and into town. A small convenience store at the bottom of the trail usually stayed open through bad weather. Sometimes they had jerky sticks he liked. “Would be like you, though.”

Would Ling come out hungry? Would he come back ravenous for all the delights he couldn’t have? Would he be thin as sticks? If he was hungry, Ed wouldn’t be able to feed him right away. Not like this.

Or would being stuck in a Philosopher’s stone be entirely different from being possessed by Truth?

He had asked this question every day for the last three years.

Al said worrying about it was turning him gray.

Al also said Ling had moved on from this world, and he would want Ed to move on from him.

What did Al know anyway?

He couldn’t possibly know more than Truth. And Truth said he could bring Ling back.

Ed shrugged on a coat and fought on his shoes. Just because he had to be cold didn’t mean he had to starve. Shopping wouldn’t be so hard. Probably. The whole money situation would be a hassle but most grocery stores didn’t understand when he explained he was on the run from his brother and so had no access to his savings.

He’d figure something out.

It was a three hour walk down the mountain to the store. If he followed the path. Ed had only become more meandering in his days since the military. So, he took a moment to enjoy the winter. It ached in his bones—in the new hand he’d had taken months to bring fully to strength, in the hollow spaces he neglected with his apathy, in the cobwebs of his memories which could not remember a winter before his mother passed.

Birds still landed on the dead branches. Cardinals. A blanket of white covered the cracks in the ground. Every imperfection lay hidden beneath a glittering foot of snow. Ed wondered if he should miss the days when he wouldn’t appreciate the beautiful snow. In those days he would not have appreciated the absence of the birdsong in the midafternoon. He wouldn’t miss the spill of gold and red of the sunrise he’d slept through this morning. He was too busy looking ahead. Too sure he’d get everything he needed in the end. He didn’t miss things with any purpose. Life was too fast back then but it was easier to ignore the things he didn’t have.

The people, too.

He pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders. A stiff wind blew through his hair, kicking up snow and rustling the last dead leaves clinging to the branches. He could see the light of the shop up ahead. A small radio system played something sappy over the radio. Ed hadn’t listened to modern music in a long time, so he didn’t recognize the melody. The song was pretty, in its tinkering, slow way.

He found a few coins and a 100 cen bill dropped outside the door. It was enough to buy a couple of cans of beans. The dinner of kings.

He even managed to sneak out with a can of soda tucked in his pocket. He was nearly certain the woman at the counter would have let him have it, but found it best to keep her from trouble.

Maybe, if his research didn’t work out today, he’d take a vacation to travel again. Real travelling, with his brother and his new wife. He and Mei needed to swap their findings soon anyway. Phone calls weren’t as helpful as physical copies of the progress she’d made in all these years.

They’d tried every extraction and remodeling they could. Ling’s philosopher’s stone could do a lot of things. It didn’t seem able to remember his body with its limbs in all the right places. Al forbade Ed from connecting Ling’s soul to anything inanimate. Life as an empty shell was hardly worth living, he’d said. He hadn’t looked at him when he said it.

Slowly, on the walk home, the doubts crawled in.

Maybe he couldn’t do it. He hadn’t sacrificed to Truth, not this time. He knew the price would be too high. Life—real life—offered no short cuts.

How could he find someone else’s truth? How could he learn where Ling’s hid?

He just wanted to reach into the stone and pulled him out. If he could see what Ling saw, see Ling’s truth himself, he knew he could figure out how to bring him here.

He just needed a window.

He sat the can of beans in the cabinet. His notebook lay open on his bed. The philosophers stone lay on his bedside table. Someone had removed the stone and the vial from its spot in the center circle. Al had found him.

He collapsed into the chair, on top of his folded blanket and all. He hadn’t expected the end of this trip so soon. He thought he had another few weeks at least. His mind wandered, even as his mouth spoke.

“I guess Mei told you where I went?”

“Not for the reason you think.” Al stepped from behind the bedroom door. A round disc wrapped in a white cloth rested in his hands. “Mei found him.”

Al did not smile. Ed’s heartbeat picked up. His wandering mind snapped back to attention.

“What do you have, Al?”

“He’s not well, Ed.”

Ed closed his eyes. He prepared himself. All the words he’d rehearsed escaped him. He said the only words he could think. “I’ve got to see.”

Unwrapping the disc lasted longer than Ed’s patience. Al looked as tired as Ed felt. Whatever he’d seen in the disc, he didn’t want to share it.

The cloth fell away to reveal a silvered glass, etched with one of Mei’s pentacles. The design of this one was different—alchemic symbols of fire and air alternated at each point. In the center, the mark of Greed glowed faintly red.

“You’ll want to take a step back.” Al ignited the circle. He’d excelled in Alkehestry under Mei’s tutelage. Ed hadn’t benefitted from a lover’s constant guidance, so he was good but not well practiced. He wouldn’t have trusted himself with something like this.

The reflection flickered. Gold eyes shifted to black and back again. Ed reached for the glass. The reflection settled into black eyes, boxed in by unkempt black hair. The ponytail, the easy smile, the lazy posture was all gone. In Ling’s place, Ed found a shell.

Greed, despite his best intentions, had eaten Ling alive. His body was all there, but it was not as Ed had left it.

“Ling?” Ed called to him without thought. The Xingese would be emperor did not stir. His gaze was unseeing.

“I’m sorry, Brother.” Al pulled the cloth over the glass.

Ed grabbed his hand. “No.”

The single word crushed Al. He handed the disc over, quietly went to the bed, and turned his back. He wouldn’t leave. Ed knew this as well as he knew the snow fell outside. But he wouldn’t watch Ed tear himself to pieces over what he thought was a hopeless cause.

“You didn’t have to show me, you know. You could have hidden this. I may never have found him.”

Al snorted. “You’ve been at this for years, brother. I had to bring him to you.”

Al wouldn’t venture any closer to reassurance.

Ed knew what he’d have to do. He’d only try it as a last resort.

“I have food, Ling. Not much, but when I get you out of here, we’ll go for something better.” Ling didn’t move. Ed wasn’t sure the other man could hear him. He talked anyway.

He tried different methods throughout the night. Seeing Ling, he tried some of the old techniques again.

He tried to pull him through, first creating a Ling shell and then transmuting the person into the untrapped version of himself. The method had worked long ago, but the Philosopher’s stone was not a failed attempt at a gate to Truth. The stone was just a stone. It travelled nowhere.

So Ed tried again. He tried opening up the stone from what he could see of Ling’s surroundings. He chose a particularly glum patch of ground and tried to transmute a hole into it.

“I’ve got your jacket somewhere, too. You know, when you get out of there, you probably won’t have greed anymore. You can wear your own clothes again. I haven’t seen you in that yellow outfit in years.” Ed forced himself to sound positive. Ling would be out soon. He had to have hope. Ling hadn’t moved. Only the rise and fall of his chest gave Ed any clue he was alive. Ed wasn’t sure Ling even blinked. No hole formed in the ground beside him. Ed tried again.

“Lan Fan misses you. She checks in sometimes, but she has no stomach for bad news anymore. Mei helped me with research. Her notes say she sifted through the chi of the stone to find your chi markers. Now we’re able to see you.” He set the red vial beside the stone and tried again to transmute Ling from the stone. This time, he planned to have an intermediary vessel—something between Ling’s removal from the stone and the return to his form.

Ling’s time was fading. His lines were beginning to blur inside the glass. Ed didn’t think it was a sudden problem with the alkehestry. No. Ling was losing himself.

Ed didn’t know what to do. Whatever Ling’s Truth was, wherever his gate was, Ed wasn’t having any luck finding it. Attempt after attempt failed. He scrubbed a dozen circles off his floor before Al grabbed his hand one day to stop him. He was holding the disc.

In it, Ling was barely visible. Everything was edged in red. Ling’s eyes were closed. His body arched back, hair pushed up on the wall he’d leaned against. Tears left clean tracks against the grime built up on his cheeks. He said something.

Ed couldn’t hear.

“What’s happening, Ling?” Ed yanked the mirror hard from Al’s hands. Three years he’d been at this. For weeks he’d been able to see Ling. He’d assumed Ling couldn’t hear or feel, that whatever place he was stuck in eroded the senses. Now Ling looked pained. A crack formed down the middle of the glass. Ed lightened his grip. “Ling!”

Ling flickered away.

Panic seized Ed’s chest. For three solid beats, he didn’t breathe. Ling flickered back. His face was blank again. His eyes were open. The tears kept falling.

Ed couldn’t hear him, but he could see Ling’s mouth moving. At first, he couldn’t make sense of what he saw. Ling was repeating the same words over and over again. He followed the shape of the lips, cracked and dry.

I want… I want… I want…

“Al.” Ed put the glass carefully onto his bed. The crack lengthened. “Al, I’m out of time. Help me.”

Al turned from the window. “What did Truth say to you exactly, Ed?”

Ed explained the dream to him, how it had been the same dream every time Ed fell asleep since he’d talked with Truth to get Al’s body back. He had never shared the story. Truth had offered him a choice then—Al or Ling. Or at least, he was pretty sure that’s what the choice Truth offered. Either way, he wasn’t willing to risk it at the time. He’d never regretted it. He hadn’t wanted to burden Al with that knowledge. Despite everything, Al would have blamed himself for Ling’s loss. In denying Al this initial guilt, he’d denied himself Al’s help all this time.

“You’re not looking for Ling’s Truth. Ling is stuck in the stone. He has no power over where he is. Knowing his Truth won’t help you. No.” Al rubbed his hands over his eyes. “You’re looking for Greed’s. That’s his stone, right?”

Ed nodded. Greed was supposed to be able to come back using the Philosopher’s stone. All the others had used their stones to regenerate themselves if needed. As long as their stone, and some small part of themselves, existed, they could return. It’s how they lived so long. Ed assumed he’d needed to race against Greed’s regeneration.

He’d approached it all from the wrong angle.

He needed to convince Greed that what he wanted was Ling to come back alive. How did one convince Greed he wanted to give himself up so someone else could live?

Ed rubbed his hand over his eyes. Greed had done it once before. He could do it again. He just had to understand his Truth. As far as Ed knew, only one person had ever been close enough to Greed to know, and he was stuck in a useless stone.

“How can I talk to him? He’s a stone, it’s not like he has ears.” Ed wanted to throw the stone out the window and never see it again.

“There has to be some part of him left or the stone would be gone.” Al shrugged. “I know what you’re going to do, brother. You may as well do it. It’s not like Greed will stop you.”

Ed closed his eyes. Al was angry with him. He could feel it in the distance of the words. He could see it in the slump of Al’s shoulders. “I can’t just leave him, Al.”

“You think I don’t know?” Al’s voice raised, just a little. His temper deflated as quickly as it flared. “We finally get back and still you’ve got to be a hero. I can’t even pretend like I would do any different. Ling was family.”

“Is family. I’m going to bring him back. If I’m not back soon, have Mei make another mirror. Or maybe fix this one. Then you’ll know I’m alright.”

“Ling doesn’t look alright to me.” Al grabbed a piece of chalk. “It’ll be safer if I do the transmutation. Your alkehestry is shaky.”

Going into the stone was easy. Ed didn’t have to create somewhere for himself to go like he had to create a vessel for Ling. He wasn’t trying to get somewhere unknown. Ed was aware of what was being done. It was the difference between walking to the store and asking someone in a different country to leave the same store.

The transmutation still hurt. His entire body burned then turned weightless. He was in the stone but not, as well. Al didn’t need to transmute all of Ed. Only the part of him capable of travelling across gates.

Landing in Greed was not what Ed expected. Ling was nowhere to be found. Souls, tired and already lost, stretched out from the lining of the walls. Their groans chilled Ed’s blood. Some of the groans sounded like words, and those words were familiar.

I want… I want…

Ed walked, searching for Ling while he figured out how to approach his new goal. He had to bring Ling back from the edge—the Xingese would-be emperor was dangerously close to losing himself. But he didn’t have to wait until he found Ling to start convincing Greed.

But how?

Greed had kept Ling this long for a reason. And it wasn’t because he didn’t know what would happen to him once he’d stayed so long being ravished by Greed’s hunger. If he was already willing to sacrifice himself for Ling once, why hadn’t he already done it again?

“Greed, can you hear me?”

The groaning of the walls paused. Everything was quiet. Ed could hear a whisper far away—Ling had not stopped when the others had.

“What do you want?”

“You know why I’m here, Greed.” Ed moved towards the low sound of Ling’s voice. He could see only one wall beside him. Darkness swallowed the others, but they must look the same. “Where’s Ling? He deserves to be free.”

“Can’t, runt. He’s part of me.” The voice surrounded him. It was weak. “The part that’s alive.”

“Not yet he isn’t. He doesn’t have to be.” Ed strained his ears to hear. He was getting closer. “He still has a chance.”

“If he goes, what’s left?”

“You were willing to give him up before.”

“Yeah, when I was—” Greed stopped. The break off hung heavy in the air.

When what? Greed had thrown himself into Father before—there’s no way he could have survived. If Ling hadn’t been determined to save him, he would have died for sure. What could be different now? At least now he’d probably survive.

Ed’s steps faltered. The truth—Greed’s Truth—hit him like a steam train.

“You don’t want to live alone. You were going to die before, and that was alright. But now, only one of you can leave. That’s all the energy left in the stone. So if you let Ling go—”

“I’m stuck here, forever. Alone.” Greed laughed. The sound blew through the space around Ed like an empty breeze. “Never would have bothered me before, but your friend here had to point out that I like having friends.”

“Ling was always too perceptive for his own good.” Ed picked up his pace, keeping his steps even. “You’re going to let him die so you can keep him a little longer?”

“I’m not called Greed because I’m so selfless, kid.”

“You’ll still be alone.”

“I’ll die eventually.” Greed’s voice echoed. He sounded tired.

“If you give him back, I can destroy the stone. You won’t have to live with your loneliness.”

“Defeats the purpose of surviving doesn’t it?”

“Defeats the purpose of keeping him here if he’s just going to die, doesn’t it?” Ed shot back. Greed didn’t respond.

Ed ran. Ling’s mumbling grew less coherent, though Ed was certain he was close. Ling had to be just ahead.

He tripped over Ling’s legs. His shoulder jammed against the ground, one arm jutting out to grab Ling’s shirt.

The mumbling fell silent.

Ling had begun to sink into the wall. Now his eyes were open again. He was watching Ed.

“You’re not real.” Ling’s voice cracked.

“I am.” Ed was just glad Ling recognized him. He tugged Ling away from the wall. Red clung to him, pulling from his hair and clothes like spider silk.

“No. You shouldn’t be here.” Ling lifted a hand to Ed’s chest. He gave a weak push. “There’s no way out. Not even like last time.”

“I’m not all here. Al’s got me back home.” Ed was quiet. He pulled Ling’s arm around his shoulder. Dark hair spilled over his forearm, loose and tangled. “We’re going to find a way to take you out. You hear that Greed?! We’re getting him out of there whether you like it or not!”

Ed wondered if Al was watching, if he could hear them. If Al thought getting Ling back was hopeless, he’d call Ed back without him. Greed hadn’t been promising.

“Al?” Ling’s eyes slid over Ed’s face and down again. “You aren’t real.”

Ling had been here a long time. Ed didn’t know what it had done to his mind. There was a possibility Ling had seen something very similar to this once and it had been an illusion.

“I heard Mei has been practicing her dragon’s beard candy. She says you should try it.” Ed grunted, pushing Ling up onto his knees. “And Lan Fan has gone back to Xing. She says the Emperor is on the cusp of dying. He’ll need an heir soon. You’re famous in Xing already. You’d be even more famous if you,” he grunted and pushed himself to standing. Ling hung from him like a rag. “If you came back from the dead.”

Ling scoffed. Ed took the new response as an improvement.

“I’ve got your clothes at home. I’m ready to see you dressed like you again.”

He didn’t know where he was taking them. They couldn’t escape on their own two feet. The red seeping into Ling’s hair and clothes creeped him out, though. He had to get away from it.

“I’m afraid.” Ling didn’t move his legs to help Ed walk with him.

“Afraid of what?” Ed wanted to keep him talking.

“Of you.” Ling planted his feet, refusing to move.

Ed didn’t know what to say. Ling didn’t explain further. He watched Ed with his dark eyes, gaze steady and unblinking. One hand lifted and cupped Ed’s cheek. Ling’s skin was warm, his palm rough as the day he’d left. Three years hadn’t changed him much. Ed waited. Ling’s hand trembled against his skin.

Ling took a step forward, using Ed’s arm to balance himself. He approached with caution; each step slow. He didn’t stop until Ed’s chest was only a few inches from his. His hand remained on Ed’s cheek.

“You’re not real.” Ling sounded sure. It was not a question. He leaned down, pressed his lips against the corner of Ed’s mouth. Ed didn’t move.

His throat felt dry. His heart drummed so wildly in his chest it drowned out the low groan of the souls around them. A lot of things had been left unsaid between him and Ling. He thought he’d have time to prepare. Now all he could feel was the desperate want of having Ling out of here, of exploring this together.

Ling pressed another kiss against Ed’s cheek. “You look nearly as I remember you. My dreams have gotten creative with your outfit and your new arm. But it is still best I wake up.”

Ed could feel a tug in his stomach, like a string being pulled far away.

Al was calling him back. Too early.

“Ling, please, tell Greed you want to leave. Tell him to let you go.”

“I promised Green I’d never leave without him.” Ling snorted. “I have been telling him for so long. We are the same, Greed and I. We do not want to be alone. Not after finally finding someone.”

Ed clutched onto Ling’s hand, fighting the insistent tug of his soul to his body. “Please, don’t give up Ling. I’ll be back!”

Ed could hold on no longer. His hand fell through Ling’s, and he was gone. He could still feel the press of Ling’s kiss against his cheek.

Anger burned him up. It hadn’t been nearly enough time. Ling could have still come around. Together they may have found a way out. They’d done it before. He pivoted, ready to shout at Al, when he saw the paleness of his brother’s face.

“I thought I was too late,” Al whispered. “I thought I’d lost you, too.”

Al pointed to the circle.

Red particulate stirred across the chalk. The vial was empty. The Philosopher’s stone was gone.

Ed’s face felt hot. His body flashed cold. Knees buckling, he fell to the floor. Something must have used the last of Greed’s power. Was it him? Had he somehow used Greed’s power entering the stone?

“Al, I…” Al hurried to his side. His brother had always been quicker to hugs, to comfort, to understanding. Ed crumbled into the embrace and knew what it was to want so strongly it hurt. And no one could give him back what he’d lost.

The ghost of Ling’s kiss lingered on the corner of his mouth. Ed couldn’t even cry. Nothing felt real.

He heard a knock at the door. The sound barely registered.

He hadn’t told anyone where he’d gone. Al had only found him because they were brothers, linked through a bond that drew them together. Al could have found him in the dark across a hundred mazes. No one else had the luxury.

He ignored the knocking. No one on the other side of the door was anyone he wanted to see.

A heavy thump drew his attention again. This time the sound reminded him of a body falling.

He wasn’t even allowed to be in shock in peace.

Al lifted him and placed him carefully on the bed. Ed felt the cracked glass at his fingertips. So close, after so long of trying. Now the glass wouldn’t even work. There was no Ling to see—no dragon’s pulse to find him in.

Al opened the door. He didn’t move or shout to tell Ed who it was. Ed turned his back to the door. The start of tears pricked at his eyes. He just wanted to be left alone. Maybe he and Al could take a trip somewhere. Somewhere new. More places existed in the world than Amestris and Xing. Maybe more types of Alchemy existed too.

“Tell them to go away, Al.” Ed called over his shoulder.

“I don’t think so, Brother.” Al grunted. He was pulling whoever it was into Ed’s small cabin. So whoever it was probably needed help. For once, Ed was tired of helping.

Ed turned to face his brother. “I really don’t want to—”

His protest caught in his throat. Al’s grin practically lit up the room. In his arms, an exhausted and dirty Ling sighed. His clothes were rumpled, red still clinging to the crevices. Ed almost couldn’t believe it.

“So, I guess you were real after all. Greed let me go.” Ling wriggled across the floor. “You always were the charmer. What did you do, use force?”

Ed looked back at the red dust on the circle. “I promised to kill him, so he wouldn’t have to live alone.”

“I see. You were fast to act on your promise. I can’t sense him anywhere.” Despite the relief, Ed heard a twinge of sadness. Greed had been an ally and a friend in the end. He deserved his peace. Even still, he thought maybe Ling would miss him.

“I didn’t do it. Releasing you must have used the last of the power of his philosopher’s stone. He said you were the part of him that was alive.” Ed wanted to rush through all the obligatory exposition of what had happened while Ling was away. And yet, the room could have been the same if he’d found Ling just days after he’d been taken. Three years disappeared like nothing.

“I need to go call Mei and tell her you’ve found Ling.” Al shuffled his way to the door. “There’s a shop a little way down. I’ll be back. Maybe with better food than two cans of beans.”

“I’m starving.” Ling sat heavily in his chair. “Thank you, Al.”

Al very carefully didn’t glance back to Ed when he left. His brother was giving him the chance to use this time however he liked, with no added pressure of meaningful glances. If he wanted to just watch Ling and say nothing, he could.

“I have a lot of questions,” Ling stretched his legs and arms as far as they’d go. “I don’t really care about any of the answers right now.”

“What do you care about then?”

“If you were real inside of Greed, then you remember what I did?”

Ed was too exhausted to talk about feelings and possibilities and why exactly he’d spend three years fighting against the odds to pull Ling from the stone. So instead, he walked up and kissed Ling on the corner of his mouth. He kept his hands at his sides, kept his stance gentle and unaggressive. The last thing he wanted to do was pressure Ling into anything.

“Yes, my aim was off wasn’t it? I blame delirium.” Ling reached for Ed’s shoulder. His grip was not gentle or careful. Ling had been stuck inside Greed, after all. His chosen vice. This time his aim was true. His lips pressed against Ed’s, persistent even as Ed’s surprise made him unresponsive.

Ed kissed back.

They had a lot to talk about, he and Ling.

Lan Fan, Mei, the Emperor. Even, Ed was sure, Ling would want to talk about Greed and all the complications of their relationship. But right now, they did not need words.

The kiss was hungry and angry and awkward all at once. Ling’s lips were rough, dry. His body was too tired to respond, despite his wandering hands. Ed’s fingers kept running into clumps of tangles in his hair or strings of red buried in Ling’s clothes. All too soon, Ling pulled away. His eyes were bright. He grinned sheepishly at Ed and stepped back.

“This is more than I wanted, and I’m not still certain it’s not some dream Greed’s made to appease me, but I feel like I have never seen the inside of a shower. Would you mind?”

Ed hurried back three steps, his hand lingering on Ling’s arm until he couldn’t reach anymore and laughed. “I never expected everything to happen so suddenly. All your clothes are back in my apartment in Central. But I can see if Al brought something—you might have better luck with him. If you want to jump in the shower, I’m sure Al will be back soon.”

His stomach trembled, filling up the tense room with a low rumble.

Ling laughed. “Where is the shower?”

Ed gestured towards the door on the right. “Towels are in the cabinet.”

Ten minutes and a few stolen kisses later, and Ling disappeared into a warm steam. Ed pretended not to hear the broken sniffles. He couldn’t imagine how he’d react to freedom after three years locked in hell. The road to recovery would be long. Mental, physical, emotional. They’d have to take things slow, work things out as they came to it. Already Ed could see that Ling’s grasp on stability was shaky at best. How long until he fully believed Ed, and the rest of the world outside Greed, was real?

But for now Ling was back. And that was enough.

@edling-week

#edling #edlingweek19 #fmab #edward elric #ling yao

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bloggatersgonnagateuniverse-blog · 6 years

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The ancients’ secret, chapter 1

Her soggy eyes glanced her room, Hayley was crying as if this was the last time she would see that picture again. It was not something rare, she has been weeping all morning because she was leaving home for an expedition to an unknown place. However, those were not tears of sadness like when her father insisted that she should do her homework. Those were, in fact, tears of joy, because she could not believe still that she was accepted in such great expedition, since she thought that for being General O’Neill’s child, she wasn’t allowed to be in a military position near her own father. Against all odds, she was fairly accepted, needless to say she was also the valedictorian of one of the best institutes in the world.

Hayley O’Neill is not Jack O’Neill’s biological daughter, she was raised by the General after being the last survivor of a planet massacred by the Goa’ulds when she was just a baby. She has a strong character; if somebody hurts or lashes her family or her team, she tends to use sarcasm as a mechanism of defense. Besides, her IQ is extremely high, although it often gets wasted. Her hair is golden and when she looks at the sky, you could not tell if those where her iris or the arch of heaven. She is 5’ 3’’ feet tall and neither fat neither skinny, she had a complex body for her height.

She wanted to pack up as soon as possible, she wasn’t comfortable with her father because they recently have had an argument about the dangers of this expedition. He did not want her to go to Atlantis, the knew the risk of that. Besides, he was afraid for her daughter, that she suffered as he had suffered, he did not want to wait for a phone call from his job with bad news, telling him that his daughter was in a coma or worst, dead. With Hayley, Jack had become overprotective and she tried her best to understand his actions, he had never overcome what happened to Charlie and, of course, repeating memories was not on his duties.

When she was packing, Jack entered the room after knocking at the door. He knew it was forbidden to enter her room without asking, unless he wanted to face her fury. Even though the door was open, she got mad again, she wasn’t happy at him so she answered rudely:

‘What do you want, dad?’

The General looked sadly at her when facing her bad temper, it was a bit unfair to have an argument with her about her dreams, but he felt there were several reasons to do so. He couldn’t help to reach and hug her when he answered her question, full of affection, as any parent would do:

‘Kid, I am so sorry. I didn’t want to be so hard on you, not even argue with you. It’s just… You know what I think of working on the Stargate Command, of what it means if you go.’ Jack tried not to cry in front of her, so he did his best to maintain calm when he faced her. ‘On the other hand, though, I had been talking with John Sheppard. Do you remember him? This man… he used to come home quite a lot, when you were little you were always asking for the Major, it seemed as if you had a little crush on him.’ In that very moment, Hay couldn’t avoid blushing and hitting her father with the pillow. Jack couldn’t stop laughing at that moment. ‘Let’s be serious for once, please. He has told me that you are going to be okay by his side, and he will talk with Elisabeth in order to be your direct boss.’

Hayley, when hearing Sheppard’s name, got so excited: when she was just a little kid, she was madly in love with him, her father was absolutely right. In fact, she enrolled on the army at an early age because she wanted to be like the great John Sheppard. She never forgot that name; she never told her father, but she had a picture with him in her room, to which she wished goodnight. She couldn’t help to hug her father, although this time she did it with pure happiness, besides, she proved that emotion with her following words. Nevertheless, she didn’t use that rude tone but so much energy between her lips:

‘Thank you, thank you, daddy. I promise I call to the Stargate Command at least twice a week’ the young woman peeked at her watch, they had just an hour to go, and he was the driver. ‘C’mon mister O’Neill! Turn on the engines, I don’t want to be late and get lost with so many people.’

Jack laughed and went to get the car ready, Hayley stayed a little longer to finish packing, because talking with her father turned out to be a delay. She looked one last time at the door on her wardrobe. It was the hiding spot of her biggest treasure: a very special picture of John Sheppard and her. She kissed it and sprinted out to the car, destination: Stargate Command.

They were all excited for that greater adventure coming up in Atlantis, it was something new for them, everyone could tell. Hayley and Jack arrived a bit late, in the control room Doctor Elisabeth Weir was waiting nervously. The General tried to apologize, but Hayley stopped him because she did not want him to act for her anymore, which made the Doctor smile:

‘Worry no more, soldier O’Neill’ said Doctor Weir, at the same time she indicated with a gesture to remain calm. ‘You will be traveling with Major Sheppard until we reach Atlantis, it will be a short trip, but organization is organization.’ Doctor Weir was going to give further explanations about the expedition, but she was interrupted by Doctor Jackson, who suddenly appeard to rush them up, so Elisabeth talked to the team straightforward, after saying some last words to Hay.

‘We will talk about everything when we reach Atlantis. It was a pleasure to finally meet you.’ Hayley smiled kindly and copied her words, but the Doctor wasn’t listening anymore.

Hayley, before reaching the Stargate, said goodbye to her father and Daniel with a big hug. Samantha Carter couldn’t be there for personal reasons, so Hay asked her father to give Carter some kisses from her. Jack was about to cry, although he played the strong boy and let Jackson to cry for him. Hay had to hug Daniel once more, crying with him as well, even Jack finally teared up in that moment. After that fully emotive goodbye, Major Sheppard indicated Hayley to come along, and Hayley tried her best not to faint for being in his presence.

When the last one of the team crossed, Hayley and Jack crossed their looks, they were saying goodbye once more. She couldn’t keep it on, after all, it was time to leave, time to go through the stargate and start a new adventure on Atlantis.

xxxx

“Tick..., tack, tick..., tack, tick..., tack”

That sound was madness, but more exasperating would be a complete silence. The class was focused in one thing and one thing only: the paper which will decide if they pass that subject. The faces of the young students were such an exhibition on the strongest emotions of humankind. A boy on the first line was answering the questions extremely fast, with an unhealthy position of his back, his neck almost upside down and his tongue resting in one side, being bitten by his owner as if he was a little child drawing. A youngster was crying on the corner, and another one was lying on his desk sleeping, probably... The teacher was sick of moving around watching the class to avoid any short of cheating, and he stayed looking at the infinity, wishing the hour could finish as soon as possible.

That was the great opportunity of Edward. That boy, who had finished his exam centuries ago, took a piece of paper from his suit jacket and put it on his exam questions. There was no worth in copying right now. Edward hated archaeo-biology, but not for its content. That exam was focused on bones’ classification and Edward learned that lesson one boring day during the last course of primary education. In fact, he hated that subject for his professor. He was always saying that Edward was useless, he wasn’t meat for this degree, he will never be some one to remember. That boy, still innocent and full of strong emotions, used to cry for it, and get disappointment for his choice of career.

If any luck, he actually had a professor who’d pushed him forward. That professor proposed him a mental exercise, a riddle to test him: he had invented a language which Edward had to unravel clueless. And Edward, in the middle of an anatomy exam, discovered how to use that invented language and how his teacher had created it; from which languages it came from… everything.

The alarm sounded loudly in each four walls and reached to their ears as a disturbing beep. Edward run away from the room with his precious paper on his hands. He slipped on the wings’ floor and climbed the stairs jumping some steps on the way, stepping hard with his white converse. The boy forgot to knock at the door, he even forgot how to breath after that run.

‘Doctor Jackson! I… I have it.’ The young man lowed his enthusiasm when he realized his mistake: he has interrupted the Doctor, that mustn’t be done in any university, is so unpolite… His head went all dizzy imagining the worst-case scenario.

Doctor Jackson was professor on Egyptology and Cryptology. Rumors said that he was the director of an expedition in a conflictive area, and that was the reason why you often could find him talking with some soldiers, who were part of his team as a defense line. Therefore, it was quite strange to find professor Jackson at the university. Edward was lucky. He met the professor in an activity for which he was selected some years ago, some short of gymkhana for nerds which consisted in decoding some symbols. Edward discovered that those were engravings of stars’ coordinates and that ignited the obsession of Doctor Jackson for the boy. Needless to say that Edward decided to study archeology from that archeology and hence, Jackson and the boy created a close friendship.

Daniel Jackson was growing his hair again. He said that that reminded him what it was like some years ago, when everything was different. He wanted to go back. He has always been showing a picture of him and a military friend of his in the desert, right after saying all of what I mentioned. He was a strong man, still having a childly face, though. He used to wear an army suit which his friends on the army lent him for his expeditions, and Doctor Jackson used to redecorate it with junkie-hipster patchs he bought on the internet, like sings as “SG1” or similar ones. Edward imagined that was the name of his bike-aficionado gang and he never believed there was something remarkable about it.

The professor stopped talking with the person on his office and fixed his eyes on the boy. Edward had twenty-one years, but he dressed up with a bizarre suit: a dark-green jacket with a red dying flower, a brown shirt, a black blazer from witch hanged a pocket watch and brown trousers His youth could be seen between his callow face and his white converse. He had a scruffy brown hair like his eyes, always shiny, always full of will to learn something new.

‘I’m so sorry, professor. My lady…’ he made a formal sing which actually turned to be quite messy. ‘I’ll come back later.’

The woman gave Edward a big smile and her eyes sparkled out of curiosity. Her golden hair, so curly and so wild, seemed to become even curlier when she show the boy.

‘So… This is your newest obsession, Danny?’ she smiled as a scoundrel.

‘Moore’ he said to the boy, ‘let me introduce you to Doctor Song.’

‘Moore…Oh, you are so polite when you are near my presence, Danny. Don’t worry, my child.’ She touched Edward’s shoulders, which made the kid uncomfortable as he looked down. ‘I was already leaving. Enjoy my little Danny, he is a wonderful company.’ She winked him and Daniel shaked his head, hiding a smile.

‘I’m sorry for interrupting, professor’ said the boy when the woman left. ‘But I had discovered it. I know how your language works, the wraith language, as you called it.

Daniel Jackson raised his eyebrows, questioning the situation.

‘It is… It is a simple patron of two base-languages’ he followed, mumbling. ‘It uses some Latin grammar structures, but its iconography is, nonetheless, a very imaginative alphabet, professor, I give you that. However, I got you. It’s a basic form of Egyptian iconography, like a draft of the real representations. Mixed up with a similar form of the language of stars you invented when we met in that museum activity. How much time did you spent in elaborating that language?’

Daniel had a total speechless expression, although he dared to ask:

‘How much time did you spent in decoding it?’

‘An anatomy exam’ he answered, proudly.

‘An anatomy exam, you say…’ he muttered. ‘Edward, I would love to fall back on you for something far more important that any test I gave you, far from university, or any job you could ever apply to.’

His heart skipped a beat. Was that his biggest opportunity? Will professor Jackson take him to his expeditions at last?’

‘I want you to participate in a very important project. You will be my eyes and my voice in a secret investigation. This is going to change your life, you are going to move out from home if you accept. You couldn’t see your family for a very long time, but you will be one of the most important explores in the whole universe.

‘The whole universe?’ He blinked.

‘Edward, what I am going to tell you is top secret. You will have to take an oath in front of the most important faces of the militia.

‘You are scaring me…’ the boy sneezed. He did that all the time, he had allergies to everything, but he used to sneeze when he was nervous too. Daniel smiled warmly, picturing himself on the boy’s shoes.

‘I want you to come with me to the Stargate Command…

…Edward Moore, welcome to the stars.’

#sg1 #stargate #stargateatlantis #DanielJackson #jack o'neill

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sunaddicted · 6 years

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Lilies 1/2 (nygmobblepot, tw: mentions of past child abuse)

Once again, with his heart full of dread, Oswald realised that hadn't paid a visit to his mother's grave in months; falling from his throne and the subsequent struggle to claw his way up to the top - a viciously painful cycle he had went through a little too often for his tastes - had driven his mother's memory to the back of his mind, shadowed by more immediate problems that required his attention unless he wanted to join her in the afterlife.

Which he highly doubted it would have made his mother happy - Oswald could imagine her gently scolding him for having such morbid thoughts as if she was standing next to him, her fingers petting through his hair stiff with pomade.

Still, it didn't erase the fact that he was a terrible son and guilt tied tight knots of his squirming insides, making Oswald feel nauseous just at the thought of his ungrateful behaviour: he should have been able to spare a few minutes for the woman who had raised him in a house that, while poor and lacking when it came to the most material things, had always been full of love and acceptance.

Gertrud hadn't batted an eyelash when he had tentatively implicated that he wasn't remotely interested in those scandalously painted women she was afraid would take her son away from her.

She hadn't tried to drive his most flamboyant habits out of him, teaching him instead how to style his hair and put eyeliner on without poking his eye out.

Despite being unable to afford it, his mother had fought with Oswald for months and taken up all the odd jobs she could to persuade him to stay in high school until graduation.

And Oswald knew that she deliberately had chosen to never speak out aloud about his unsavoury career of choice: she wasn't a stupid woman - a little untethered sometimes, but far from obtuse.

His mother had been a rare breed, as plenty of Oswald's acquaintances had showed him: it seemed that too often the love of a parent was denied to children who were different.

Freaks.

Oswald knew that amongst them, he was one of the few who could boast about having had an happy childhood and nurturing parents - even his father, who he had met too late to form the deep bond he had with his mother, had loved him despite his plentiful flaws.

He also recognised that it probably was the reason why he had the slightly unhealthy habit of collecting unique people that had only known hatred in their lives to give them a semblance of a family to count on - a support network of sorts. The fact that his kindness - not that he purposefully broadcasted it as such: he needed to be feared and respected, not regarded as some sort of mothering figure by all the villains around town - was repaid with loyalty, it was an added bonus that he obviously wasn't going to turn down, seen as most of them had abilities that helped Oswald to keep his hold onto Gotham's underground firm and tight.

Oswald shrugged on his coat and went to the kitchen where he could hear the steady murmuring of Fries' voice talking science to Martin; he hated to interrupt the tutoring sessions, but he had quickly learnt that the boy would restlessly look for him around the Manor and become antsy when he couldn't find him: when Oswald realised that Martin probably acted out of fear of being abandoned once again, his heart had done a little painful summersault and he had promised himself to always warn him when he was going out.

Silently leaning against the doorframe, Oswald took a few seconds to admire the scene playing in front of his eyes: Victor Fries was surprisingly good with children - or maybe he just particularly liked his ward - and, apparently, also very good at explaining maths without being boring if Martin's captivated and focused expression was anything to go by.

He cleared his throat, smiling as he limped up to the table to squeeze Martin's shoulder "I'm going out for a bit"

Immediately, Martin retrieved a discarded scrap of paper with a big question mark doodled on it - the symbol briefly made the blood in Oswald's veins freeze before he realised that Martin must have used it to ask questions to his impromptu teacher to better clarify a piece of information - and thrust it in Oswald's hands. They had both been working on sign language, learning it together in the evenings after dinner, but Martin still hugely preferred to use his notepad.

"To the cemetery" Oswald answered, handing back the note "I'll be back in an hour or so"

/Can I come?/

"Aren't you in the middle of solving a problem?"

"It's fine, Oswald" Victor reassured, fingers already quickly gathering their notes to put them away until the next lesson "He's been coped up inside the whole week: take him out for a bit of fresh air"

/So?/

Oswald wanted to argue that a cemetery wasn't the best place for a child for a trip but relented when he looked down and saw those big brown eyes studying him hopefully, waiting for an answer "Alright, go get your coat" Oswald relented with a sigh "How is he doing?" He turned to ask Victor, peering down at the neatly scribbled notes.

"He's a sharp kid" Victor answered "I'm still not sure about homeschooling being the best option but he's not going to have problems passing his examinations"

"I know, I have a bunch of geniuses teaching him" Oswald retorted with a proud smile.

"He needs to interact with his peers, Oswald"

The smaller man sighed "And I agree but he needs to build up his confidence first" he pointed out "I'm not going to send him to school before I'm sure he won't let himself be bullied"

"I suppose that's true" Victor admitted, bringing the conversation to an end when he heard the distinctive pattering of excited feet running over the parqueted floor "Well, I'll see you later. I'm leaving your notes on your desk, Martin - work on the problems we haven't solved today"

Martin signed a quick 'thank you' before he tugged on Oswald's coat, clearly impatient to get out of the house - even if that meant taking a walk amidst graves.

"We're going, we're going" Oswald reassured, rolling his eyes fondly as he led him to the limousine and opened the door for him "Don't squash the flowers" he warned, settling next to Martin's quietly comforting presence.

***

Edward had always been a creature of habit, routines were so deeply ingrained in his brain that, with their disruption, his thinking process halted and he felt like a fish out of water - choking on thin air, gills gaping obscenely in a gain vain attempt at survival; it was in those moments that his mirror self had used to take control, the Riddler slipping through the cracks as sleek as an eel to ensure that Edward Nygma didn't do anything idiotic while weighed down by panic.

Not that the Riddler had been any less fixated on patterns - otherwise, Oswald wouldn't have been able to play him so well, predicting his actions with with almost clairvoyant ability. No, the only difference between them was that the Riddler handled the unexpected better than Edward Nygma did and managed to fiction even when their safety net was snapped.

"Are you hoping that taking up old habits will dislodge the psychological block that's keeping you from using your brain to full potential?" Lee inquired, frowning; Nygma's reasoning made sense - proving to the man that he wasn't actually stupid, if only he bothered to see- but she did worry about what the other man's emotional instability could push him to do.

Living in the Narrows didn't mean that she suddenly condoned criminal activity and she wouldn't turn a blind eye to her patient going on a murderous rampage just to kick his brain into working like it used to. Lee was slowly growing fond of Edward - it rankled her: he had killed one of her friends, after all - but she wasn't yet so fond that she wouldn't hand his arse at the GCPD if he started spilling blood.

"It can help people suffering from memory loss"

"You don't have memory loss" which had been one of the first signals that had made Lee suspect that Edward's damage had been more psychological rather than physical; it didn't make sense that Nygma would loose something as significant as his intelligence but had retained every single one of his memories up to the moment when he had been iced over by Fries. Various tests and scans had proved her right "What did you have in mind?" She asked, noticing the defeated expression on her patient's face.

Edward immediately brightened at the question: doctor Thompkins wouldn't have asked for further clarification on his plan, if she had thought that it was completely stupid; it almost made him feel like his old self "Something small" he reassured "But on which I truly relied on to calm down whenever I felt particularly under pressure"

"Such as?"

There came the embarrassing- and potentially dangerous - part of his plan "I used to bring flowers in Gertrud's grave, every other Thursday" he admitted. Even after discovering Oswald's betrayal - even after shooting him off of the pier - Edward had kept visiting Gertrud Kapelput with a handful of the whitest lilies he could find, critically inspected to ensure that there weren't any brown speckles to blemish the petals.

It genuinely was surprising that every single florist in Gotham hadn't banished him from their shops.

There was no need to know Penguin particularly intimately to immediately link that name to his mother and Lee's frown deepened as she shook her head, lips slightly parted as she looked for the right words to tell Nygma that he couldn't possibly go on Oswald's mother's grave "Really?" She blurted out instead.

Much to her chagrin, Lee was endlessly fascinated by Edward's conflicting behaviours: he claimed that he wanted to destroy Oswald, take everything away from him in retaliation for ruining his last shot at having a normal relationship, but then he had also admitted to using drugs in order to hallucinate his former best friend and have a chat with him whenever he needed moral support or was feeling lonely - and now she discovered that Edward brought flowers on Gertrud's grave.

It made absolutely no sense.

Unless her little theory was right.

Edward flushed a bright pink "Really. The soul who sins shall die. The son shall not suffer for the iniquity of the father, nor the father suffer for the iniquity of the son"

"Have you just quoted the Bible to prove your point?"

"Ezekiel 18:20. My parents were very religious" Edward offered as an explanation, dismissing her slightly teasing smile and stared at her with a resolute and serious glance. He needed something more than the puzzles and exercises she gave him to train his mind; they stressed and depressed him, made him wonder about whether he'd been an idiot all along - a lying cheater, just like his father had claimed him to be for his whole childhood.

Maybe he had deserved every hard punch against his heaving ribs, every sharp lash of the belt to his quivering back, every cigarette butt burning the tender skin of his inner arms.

No, he couldn't afford to let such doubts take root in his head: Edward Nygma knew he had been abused by his parents, he knew it hadn't been his fault if they hadn't loved him because he was a little odd.

"Nygma, are you alright?"

Edward took a deep breath, fingers pressing down his lowered eyelids "I need to do this" he just said, trying not to sound too desperate.

"Breathe"

"I am breathing"

Lee rolled her eyes, somewhat fondly even as she still recognised the usual feeling of annoyance that Edward would have managed to awaken even in a saint "Do it properly" she retorted with a gentle murmur "I didn't mean to discourage you from this plan" on another plan? Sure "But.."

"But?"

"Two conditions"

That didn't sound too bad, he could deal with two conditions; Edward nodded, eyes following doctor Thompkins as he forced the ferocious thoughts spinning in a whirlwind in his mind to slow down "Alright"

Pleased, Lee leaned back against her chair "I'm coming with you and we won't go until we have Oswald's schedule pinned down to a reasonable level of accuracy"

Edward shook his head "He doesn't plan this sort of things" which had always drove him insane to no end: how could someone as powerful as Oswald stand to live his life in such a.. disorderly manner? Didn't he understand that structure was needed to manage his time as best as possible, avoiding waste? Apparently not, Oswald had always been adamant about the importance of... improvisation.

Edward wrinkled his nose at the thought, just as if he had tasted something that had gone off.

"Then we'll have to go when it's most unlikely that he will do so" Lee insisted; hadn't Nygma been purposefully rallying the Narrows up against Penguin with his little comedy act, maybe she wouldn't have worried so much about the two of them meeting on Gertrud's grave - on the contrary, she would have hoped for such a thing to happen so that, helped by the tenderness of the moment, they would finally talk and stop their ridiculous pining before they became the city's laughing stock.

Because Penguin was still so painfully in love with Edward - had someone of Oswald's goons actually believed the whole "out of revenge" spiel when he had let his enemy go? - and to anyone who bothered to look past Edward's rantings about how much he hated the other man, it was so clear that he still cared.

Personally, Lee thought they just needed to be honest with themselves and pull their heads out of their asses.

Not that she was going to be so blunt: she didn't even think Edward realised that it was alright being bisexual and being attracted to both genders - and it wasn't a realisation she was going to help him to have, he had to work it out on his own.

"Doctor Thompkins?"

"Sorry, I was distracted" Lee apologised "Could you repeat that?"

Edward scowled in annoyance; it already was difficult to string sentences up together sometimes, the least his doctor could do was listening to him without zoning out after thirty minutes "I said that Oswald is too unpredictable - even going out at night, which logic suggests to be the most unlikely time of the day to find him bringing flowers on his mother's grave, wouldn't work since he's quite the nocturnal creature" between working at the Lounge until the wee hours of morning and his insomnia - they had shared many cups of tea in front of the fireplace whenever they had found one another wandering around the Manor, sleep eluding them both - it wouldn't have surprised Edward if Oswald picked a ridiculously late hour to visit his mother "Why are you so concerned about us meeting? I'm not worth wasting any time on, now that I'm stupid"

Was it dejectiom that Lee could detect in Edward's voice? "Is that the reason behind your taunting?"

Edward gritted his teeth, voice leaving his mouth through them in a hiss "No, I'm not begging for his attention"

Except that he was. Lee sighed but let the subject drop, not wanting to make the other man even more upset than he already was "Alright"

"Alright?"

Lee nodded "Alright. When do you want to go?"

A sheepish smile slowly appeared on Edward's lips, dimpling his cheeks at the corners "Now? I already have picked the flowers up"

#my writing #nygmobblepot #edward nygma #the riddler #oswald cobblepot #the penguin #martin #lee thompkins #victor fries #tw: past abuse #bantering

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inappropriatefangirlneeds · 7 years

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Gotham s3ep12 “Ghosts” Personal Review

“Okay. Weird” .. “But not illegal.” Warning spoilers below

“Please don´t leave just yet” BRUCE WAYNE says to Mrs. Kyle. Before that the ornament OWL gets examined, the one they stole and people died for. And yes I do very much like to know why this thing is so important as well and thank you Gotham that might have been the most interesting seconds of this plot: Bruce puts the owl aside and sun shines on it, revealing a map or something. I´m curious! Better be useful, Luka died for that. Anyway it´s all about SELINA KYLE´s mother who was an orphan and left at the same step as she did leave Selina and now tries to make up for over a decade of neglect. Selina is not having it she is angry. Her mother brings a box to the Wayne Manor that they should give her daughter and omg Bruce is so precious in this, he tell her to stay and try reaching out once more! Well done Bruce! He brings mother and box to Selina and they hug. They all have dinner and get along well. Daughter and mother bond over robbing Alfred and it´s glorious. It feels like a happy family and I really like that but why do I got a bad feeling about this.. Bad feeling gets some fodder when Selina accompanies her mother going into her hotel room. Some guy wants money. At first I thought Mrs. Kyle might work together with that guy but she does seem truly worried? Selina is quick to offer Bruce´s money. Like when did that happen, at first she did not even take the offer of a shower and warm place to stay now she is spending his money. Okay it´s not for her but someone else but still. Mother says this is her past and that the Wayne boys should be warned because they are not to be messed with .. Dear, ALFRED PENNYWORTH is really into Mrs. Kyle, and .. really?! .. I thought he would look down on her just as much as he does on Selina and despise her, but then again both are horrible with the parent role so maybe that connects?

“Let the vultures have at me.” Okay now I do call bullshit how does OSWALD COBBLEPOT not know that he has been doing good for the city. He seemed to have been involved as much that he knew he was doing good for the mob interests he gotta know that stuff at least some tendency. Like yes, he did not know how to do the bar thing with Butch but now I´m starting to get annoyed. Once he finally gets the memo that things are alright he is all smiling and “How´s my hair” and that´s more the penguin I want to see. Also for fox sake can´t they have him be happy for more than a second. They just throw shit at him that keeps piling, this is not fun anymore. Being mayor could have been so great and good for him why always skip that stuff. Anyway TARQUIN, deputy chief of staff elegantly offers his assistance and also arranges some national TV interview. Meanwhile “someone” digs up Elijah van Dahl´s corpse and gets spooky. Oswald´s sanity certificate shatters, how symbolic. Oswald sees his dead father wandering around and even warning him about a birthday boy that should not be trusted. Tarquin gets some birthday cake and Oswald finds a corpse in a bag, one thing leads to another. Tarquin gets murdered. “You are a sick man! What are you plotting? What's the angle? Who are you in on this with?” Yes Oswald that´s what you should be asking but honey, dead people can´t give you answers. I feel sorry for the both of them, this is a mess. Oswald thus is late for his TV interview, which of course can only take place in this mere moment, but makes it “Sorry I´m late, mayor stuff”. TV lady told him she is no fan of him and wow she really isn´t, she suggests Oswald murdered his family to inherit the money. NO! You don´t do that lady. I mean from her point of view yes you do very much do that and question the whole thing but god damn it. Anyway I´m pretty annoyed as well that Oswald did not seem to be able to answer her question about how he has archived doing good for the city but I can let that slip because I so deeply relate to that “Well ..” I really don’t like this plot, what annoys me most is probably the question of: Don´t other people see Clayjah van Spook ? Like have him spook around in Oswald´s place at night okay, but have him show up at the TV interview?! Why isn´t Oswald all like .. stop, hold that man that looks like my dead father. Or just stop that man. Like it does not make him look much more insane than running of and even saying “to hell with the people” This is annoying me so much. On a bright side: I like TARQUIN the way he presented himself was just lovely. And I adore his elegant reaction of *gets hit .. well, better place this cake carefully, so it won´t go to waste falling on the floor. Why did he have to go so early. I´m a bit pissed at Ed for setting him up like this. EDWARD NYGMA is still in full rage mode and wants Oswald to suffer plenty before putting him out of his misery. BARBARA is still all excited about getting a new empire to play with and meanwhile CLAYFACE is worried about his performance, the voice issue again ..

“That´s the law, this is family” HARVEY BULLOCK explains to Jim Gordon who is watching Mario Falcone´s funeral and is absolutely right. Jim feels guilty, wants to do something but for once thinks about his actions and leaves. Damn it LESLIE THOMPKINS really fits into that mob family. I´m more and more thinking about her being at least as much into the family as into Mario. And damn it Mario, he deserved better. Least I´m glad that seemingly he indeed was a decent person. [Why the heck did Victor not like Mario??!] LESLIE shows up at the GCPD “You´re the real virus, Jim” and I think what a drama queen but then again she is right. Nathaniel and Mario had the same infection, one is dead and one isn´t. Jim could have shouted at her instead of shooting Mario. She might have died then, or not. Given the way they showed Jim last week I do blame him up to a certain extent as well but that whole thing is annoying too. LEE & FALCONE have a mob moment discussing the death of Jim Gordon. “Blood for Blood” Falcone say and wants Jim dead. Falcone also says that Jim was more like his son than Mario in some way and, really?! Like they had some thing, but they barely met. What kind of judgment is that?! Anyway Lee spits hate and wants him dead too but Falcone says Jim is his, and that it anyway is a decision Lee has to live with without doing it herself, he is used to it. “Everything bad that's happened in my life has happened because of him.” “If Gordon dies, it's a weight we'll both have to carry. I'm used to such burdens.” LEE later visits BARNES to get to know more about the infection, thinking she might have had a life with a cured Mario but Barnes gets into full, no okay about 60% executioner mode (I´m surprised that he stopped the screaming that annoyed Jervis so much, maybe the blood just did not prepare his vocal cords for this) and Lee changes her mind. She tells Falcone to spare Jim. Falcone tells her she still loves him. Why is listening Falcone to her?! It´s still about his son and he is still dead.

* Leslie wants Jim dead for killing her love interest. Edwards wants Oswald suffering and then dead for killing his love interest. Don Falcone tells Leslie she talks of hate and revenge because she does not want to acknowledge that she still loves Jim Gordon. Is this meant to be a parallel?

“It's inevitability, Jim. Embrace it.” We have gone from S1 Everyone loves Jim to everybody wants to kill Jim. What a development. NATHANIEL BARNES declares he still wants to judge, jury and execute Jim and he is pretty confident that he will get out of Arkham and do as he declared. And omg that was great acting! Then VICTOR ZSASZ visits Jim Gordon and raids his kitchen. He warns him about Falcone wanting him dead but drops a hint that he does not. “Nice shot on Mario, I never liked him.” [Why?!] Omg, omg .. Zsasz could have an own agenda?! Do we finally get to know things about his loyalties about how he works and all that stuff we have been wondering about for so long?! I´m totally excited. Also I´m totally worried. This could get so messy. Also I can´t quite wrap my head around why he would hint something like this but still carry out orders like usual business. Like does he care about his own opinion?! Anyway I guess I got to wait for more answers. [But please Jim & Zsasz .. gotham you´d make me happy] Later Falcone orders Jim to get killed and Zsasz goes after him with two new fellow hitmen, who promptly get probably killed. Zsasz does not even bat an eyelash anymore when Jim uses one as cover and puts several bullets into them, seems this has become usual business. Why do people still work with him? [Or did he pick some he did not like anyway and was plotting to have Jim get away all along, for Mr. I do good work that was pretty much not good work there in the kitchen] Jim beats him, biig surprise, and points a gun at him, it clicks and it´s not loaded .. would Jim have shot him if? Jim leaves. Round two happens in his place but Falcone calls the whole thing of. Victor Zsasz leaves without any of the usual words of “oh please boss, let me kill, and murder, pretty please” ... this is suspicious, okay maybe I just want to see it as suspicious.

“These days I no longer say impossible. Unlikely.” LUCIUS FOX says when examining a dead/again girl. She was stabbed, she was fried with electricity, took a walk and died again. The morgue is more like a motel HARVEY says and he and JIM make their way to it. DWIGHT does not know how the corpse could escape but he worked at Indian Hill so he might have a clue and the Detective Dream Team follows him to a weird but not illegal gathering. Dwight got a Jerome patch on his back (someone tell me again patches are stupid and insignificant.) The crowd is dressed in Jerome memorial straight jackets and in for a good laugh. Guy on the stage shows some cut together Jerome material. Everyone is blind, bla and just believing the establishment´s lies, bla sanity is just a prison, bla .. wake up and be super duper enlightened and chant the same stuff as your fellow cult members. The GCPD Boys put a stop to the laughter but can´t catch Dwight. Instead VICTOR ZSASZ shows up and Jim is oh, shit! while Harvey is all oh shit?! and legitimately pissed about the question mark. As he tells Jim later, Jim should have told him. While Jim thinks it´s just his business because Zsasz is a professional, has great work ethics and only after him Harvey points out that he pretty often stands beside him and dear please tell me Harvey was aware of that great double meaning. Harvey always got Jim´s back. Jim should honor that with giving him a bit more of that quite vital information. Falcone appears and calls Victor back. Jim approaches him and all I can think is whatever comes out of your mouth better be an apology and he does say “I´m sorry”. Phew. Basic decency. I´m relieved. Falcone says that if it were his choice he would be dead .. giving Jim something to think about. Lee. God please no.

“You´re a good egg” I am so glad that Gotham is keeping this man that could kill you shows up in your kitchen eating your food thing, like I´m really glad this keeps happening, I love that .. also I might really have to move, this .. and all the fancy bathtubs..

* Diseases & Viruses 1. Alice Tetch´s Blood = Virus in the literal sense “This virus isn't the disease. It's the antidote.” Nathaniel Barnes says to Lee about being infected with the blood. Lee believes in a cure but Barnes does not want to have that. There is an interesting parallel to the second kind of Virus they have established.

2. Jerome´s Cult = Virus in the metaphorical sense “There is nothing more contagious than laughter.” Jerome announced in Season 2 and established the grounds for what we see now. People spreading and adding to his message. They see it, such as Barnes sees his infection as the antidote: “What you call sanity, it's just a prison in your minds that stops you from seeing you're just tiny little cogs in a giant, absurd machine, Wake up!” Moreover with them trying to bring back Jerome from the dead there is an additional little parallel established when Barnes talks about the Virus restoring his body “I've never felt better in my life. Clearer, stronger. More focused. Even now, I can feel it coursing through my veins. Restoring my body.” With Barnes it’s the blood infection and Jerome will be resurrected by the contagious laughter he spread.

3. Jim Gordon = Virus as moralist (mis)interpretation ? “You're the real virus, Jim. You seep into people's lives until you destroy them.” Lee says.

I´m tempted to apply the bible exegesis thing here but I´m struggling with the fourth type of interpretation and who cares anyway. And there has been disease talk in Gotham before all this but I´m too lazy to look stuff up .. for now..

* Omg that mouse running through the storage house

#gotham #Victor Zsasz #jerome valeska #Captain Nathaniel Barnes #mine #mine Gotham full episode reviews #gotham s3ep12 Ghosts

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stormysurveys · 4 years

Text

A How artistic are you? + -- I draw things.

Do you want to go to Africa? + -- Sure.

AC/DC or Aerosmith? + -- I like both. D:

Do you know what Armenia is? + -- Ye.

B What’s your beer of choice (if any)? + -- I'm not into beer.

Do you know the title of Buffalo Springfield’s one-hit wonder? + -- .... No.

Do you have a brother? (Do you like it that way?) + -- No.

Which bank do you use? + -- M&T

C Which comedian do you most enjoy? + -- A few. Jim Gaffigan is one.

Would you ever live in California? + -- I'd visit but I don't know if I want to live there.

Is it possible/likely that you’ll become a cat lady? + -- Yes. Lol.

How many different countries have visited? + -- Haven't.

D Do you believe there’s a devil? + -- No.

Does eating dessert often make you feel guilty? + -- No.

Can you legally drive? + -- Yes.

What have you been diagnosed with (if you don’t mind sharing)? + -- Nothing.

E How often do you drink energy drinks? + -- Not often.

Where did you live when you were 11 years old? + -- Georgia.

Do you like the actor who played Edward Scissorhands in that movie? + -- I guess so.

Have you ever felt an earthquake? + -- Yes.

F When was the last time you saw your father one-on-one? + -- 2011.

Do you think French is the most beautiful language? + -- No. It's nice but not my favorite.

Is Friday your favorite day of the week? + -- No.

Have you listened to Jimi’s song ‘Fire?’ + -- Yes.

G Do you have real gold jewelry? + -- No.

How often do you watch ‘Gossip Girl’? + -- I don't.

Is Google your homepage? + -- Yes.

Do you like Geico’s commercials? + -- Eh.

H When did you last feel happy? + -- Not sure.

Do you prefer Hollister, Hot Topic, or H&M? + -- Hot Topic. I can unleash my inner mall goth.

Did you dress up last Halloween? + -- Wasn't able.

Would you voluntarily watch the History Channel? + -- I LOVED that channel! :D I watched History and the Travel Channel, along with Discovery and whatnot.

I Have you ever been on an island? + -- Yes.

Would you be able to locate Indonesia on a globe? + -- Yes.

Do you know if Iceland or Greenland has more ice? + -- Greenland.

Did you watch the last presidential inauguration? + -- No.

J Do you enjoy jogging? + -- It's boring.

On which instrument could you most easily play ‘Jingle Bells’? + -- Piano or guitar.

How much do you know about John Lennon? + -- Not much.

Do you know how Jell-O is made? + -- Basically.

K Have you tried Krispy Kreme doughnuts? (Was it love at first bite?) + -- They're okay but I don't eat them.

Are you very afraid of North Korea? + -- Cautious.

How many pairs of khaki pants do you own? + -- None.

Have you ever been a fan of the Killers? + -- They have decent music.

L Does it bother you when couples are lovey-dovey in public? + -- Whatever man. I just don't pay attention.

Do you have your own lighter (why or why not)? + -- Yes, because I have candles.

In how many languages (besides English) can you count to 100? + -- I can't.

What’s your favorite lollipop flavor? + -- Eh.

M Do you believe in miracles (why or why not)? + -- Kind of.

What do you think of shows like Maury and Jerry Springer? + -- I watched them as a kid for the shock value. Now I just roll my eyes.

Do you care that Mars (the candy co.) uses deadly animal testing? + -- I already know.

How did you form your opinion of marijuana? + -- It didn't interest me.

N How often do you sleep naked? + -- Rarely. I'm prefer at least having underwear on.

Do you actually check the Nutrition Facts before eating something? + -- Yes, so I can avoid dairy.

Who is your favorite musical artist/band beginning with ‘N’? + -- Hmmmm uhhh NF?

How nerdy are you (in what ways)? + -- I dunno. I take special interest in various things like roleplaying and anime hahaha.

O What do you think about olives? + -- Disgusting.

Are you much of an outdoorsy person? + -- God I want to go camping so bad. ):

How big of an Oprah fan are you? + -- Not really interested in her content.

How often do you shop online? + -- Now and then.

P Are you looking forward to your prom? If you already went, how was it? + -- I didn't go to my prom. I stayed home and played video games. P:

How are your local policemen? + -- I don't know if I've ever talked to one to be honest. I'm sure my father-in-law knows most of them haha.

What is your ideal PB&J sandwich like? + -- Uhm. I guess a basic sandwich with grape jelly.

What do you think of the movie ‘Pineapple Express’? + -- Eh. Q How true is the saying, ‘quitters never win and winners never quit’? + -- Depends on the situation, but yes, generally.

Do you prefer Quiznos or Subway and why? + -- I grew up with Quiznos but there's only Subway here.

Have you learned the quadratic formula yet? (Do you remember it?) + -- ... I hate that I still remember it. Fml.

What is the one question you most want to ask someone and who? + -- /shrug

R How many rooms are in your home? + -- Six.

Do you like raspberries? + -- The scent and the flavor in pies. But I wouldn't just eat a raspberry? SEEDS

What’s one of your best memories from during a rain storm? + -- A hurricane came through and I went outside when the winds were whipping like crazy and leaves were flying everywhere and I danced because I'm an idiot. :D

Have you actually read Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo & Juliet’? + -- Yes. It's a shitty love story and I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY IT'S SO ADMIRED.

S Do you know any Sign Language? + -- Alphabet.

What is your sleeping schedule generally like? + -- I wake up at 3am on workdays, and I usually fall asleep by 10pm.

How well do you sing? + -- Poorly.

How often do you listen to 60-70’s music? + -- Occasionally!

T What do you think of Twitter? + -- Eh.

How much do you value the Ten Commandments? + -- Some of them are logical but you can easily condense them down into "don't be a dick".

Are there many trees where you live? + -- Yes.

How much taller/shorter do you wish to be? + -- I would love to be 5'5" u_u;; OR TALLER. I wouldn't complain!

U Where do you usually buy your underwear? + -- I bought them on Amazon oops.

How do you define ‘ugly’? + -- Me. Hahaha. But no just ... something I find to be unpleasant maybe.

Do you like to shop at Urban Outfitters? + -- Never been.

V Would you like being described as ‘voluptuous’? + -- No. For one thing, I'm not. For another, I hate the word.

For listening to music, do you like to crank up the volume or keep it calm? + -- Depends.

Do you ever watch the annual Victoria’s Secret fashion show? + -- No.

Would you agree that ‘variety is the spice of life’? + -- Ye.

W Are you currently on wireless Internet? + -- No.

Can you recall memories of learning how to whistle? + -- No.

Do you go to White Castle or just vicariously through ‘Harold & Kumar’? + -- I've never been there, but I've eaten it.

Have you gone to Washington, D.C.? Did you like it? (OR-do you want to go?) + -- I've been through it. It was alright.

X Why did you need your most recent x-ray and what were the results? + -- I have ... memories. But ... I don't even know if I did. I was really young or it was a super long time ago...? It's so weird that I have tons of hospital memories but I know my family was broke AF so there's no way I would've gone. I REMEMBER BEING CARTED AROUND IN A WHEELCHAIR but none of it makes sense hahahahaha

When it comes to ‘xoxo’, do you interpret ‘x’ as the hug or the kiss? + -- /shrug

What does X stand for in Roman numerals? Can you write the previous number? + -- Ten. IX.

Why do you think xylophones are only popular with young children? + -- /shrug

Y Can you explain the meaning of the yin-yang symbol? + -- Balance through opposing forces.

Do people more often mistake you as being younger or older than you are? + -- Dunno.

Did you know that yawning is contagious? + -- Uh. Yes.

Would you like a bottle of Yoo-Hoo or it’s not really your thing? + -- I remember drinking it as a child.

Z How many places’ zip codes do you know by heart? + -- A few.

What comes to mind when I say ‘Zero to Hero’? + -- Hercules.

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onemoremiraclefandoms-blog · 6 years

Text

They Were The Best Of Times

RoyEd Week 2018

Day 4 – Beginnings/Endings

Warning: Character death and heartache ahead!

They Were The Best of Times

The grass beneath him was damp, and it was beginning to soak into his trousers but he didn't pay it much attention. The sky above looked heavy and dark with threat, and Edward could feel the storm coming in his bones, and the way the automail pained him; he should go home, but he wanted to stay here just for a bit longer. He lay there, staring up at the sky and watching as the clouds rolled over central as he plucked a blade of grass. Roy would be useless in the rain, the pyromaniac always was. He could use a bit of fire right about now, something to chase away the cold and the storm, something to keep him feeling warm and alive.

Edward remembered the first time that they kissed, Roy's lips were softer than they looked, and Edward was surprised by the gentle way Roy had kissed him. He had expected, that after months of sexual tension, that the kiss would be fierce and passionate. It wasn't. Roy had kissed him slowly, lovingly. Roy kissed him like he was the only thing that had ever mattered, like he was precious and fragile. Strong hands had cupped his face, tilting it upwards slightly so that Roy could take his breath away with those warm lips. Edward had known in that moment, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with the man that was kissing him. Not every kiss was as soft and loving – a lot of their kisses since had been desperate and lust-driven, stolen in dark corners of Command or trailing down naked skin.

The first time they had slept together Edward had been drunk. It took him hours to convince Roy to sleep with him, the bastard was forever a gentleman and hadn't wanted to take advantage of Edward. The blonde had almost begged him, he only needed the alcohol the first time. Just to give him the confidence to actually make a move on Roy, and the older man had finally relented, but he let Ed fuck him. Since Edward had previously been on the receiving end he wasn't sure how good he was going to be, but it was a compromise; Ed would top, and that way Roy felt that Edward was more in control of the situation. He couldn't take advantage if he let Edward set the pace.

Roy had been at his side for years, and they had held each other up in times of need. Roy had achieved his goal, and he was working towards fixing this messed up country, and Edward couldn't have been prouder. He remembered the party to celebrate Roy's win vividly. The drink was all free, and it was pretty damn good too. The food was a bit too fancy for Ed's liking, but it all tasted nice enough; even if he didn't know what it was half of the time. Al and Winry had been there, and May, Ling and Lan Fan had made it across to congratulate Roy on his victory. It was a surprise to Ed that there had been any food left at the end of the evening, but he had listened to his boyfriend discuss politics with Ling until Winry pulled him away from Roy to dance with her. May was already giggling in Al's arms and Edward knew that his baby brother was completely in love with the girl. He'd spent years in Xing with her, and she was as devoted to him as he was to her.

They had danced as a group, and then as couples for hours. At some point Roy had asked to interrupt him and Winry and she happily let him, moving to Al and May. Roy looked delicious in his suit, and Edward wanted to do unspeakable things to him. He just had to get him alone; but Roy didn't let him drag him off for a quickie on the balcony, much to Ed's disappointment. Edward looked down at the grass in his hand, his mind snatched away from the blissful memory as the first splash of rain landed on his skin. The water bounced off of the ring he wore; the ring that Roy had given him a year ago, and Edward wasn't sure if it was rain or a tear that slipped down the side of his face. Roy had proposed to him that night, after all the speeches and dancing, Roy had led Edward out to the balcony where he had set up a table with two flutes of champagne and flickering candles. Edward had laughed at them – Roy was such a sappy shit that it still amazed him.

As he had turned around to tell Roy as much, Edward froze at the sight in front of him. Roy had dropped down to one knee, a small box in one hand as his free hand reached for Ed's. It was like everything had stopped and Edward couldn't take his eyes off that damn box. What the hell was Roy thinking? What was he doing? Oh god, Edward was freaking out and he was breathing too fast; or not at all, and he was going to pass out and ruin this whole stupid romantic moment that Roy had planned and organised and that would just be too bloody embarrassing to come back for.

“Edward, love, breathe.” Roy had said, a small knowing smile on his lips and that had answered Ed's question of if he was breathing or not. “Edward, I just wanted to tell you all of the reasons that I love you, but I know you'll get bored a lot sooner than I will if I do that. You never think the best of yourself and that is possibly the saddest thing I've ever heard of. Life hasn't been easy for either of us, but with you by my side these past few years I have never felt as strong. You helped to get me to this point, and I'm not sure that I could have done it without you by my side, Edward. You are the most brilliant person I know, stunningly beautiful with a mind as sharp as a razor. You're fiercely loyal, and brave and strong and honestly probably the most infuriating man alive, but I love you Edward Elric.”

Edward wasn't crying, he wasn't. Roy squeezed his hand, blinked back his own tears and then opened the box in his hands and Edward was definitely not crying now at the sight of the steel ring – the same material as his automail leg, Edward would know that steel without a doubt – and with the same flamel symbol that he and Al had used during their childhood, a nod at his alchemy and teacher. The ring was a piece of art, clearly hand made and customised just for him. One and only, and Roy had went to all this trouble just for him.

“Will you marry me, Ed?”

Edward covered his mouth with a hand, and let out a small tearful laugh into his palm. The vision of Roy was a little blurry due to the tears in his eyes and he hated himself for such a girly reaction, but damn he really had no choice did he? Not with Roy and everything that the bastard had said and done. Edward didn't trust his voice, so he just nodded until Roy grinned up at him; as if he had just given him the world and all the power within it.

“Yes.” Edward whispered even as Roy slipped the ring onto Ed's finger, and without warning he was pulled towards Roy, their lips crashing together as Edward sobbed the same three letter word over and over again, the noise lost again his fiancé's lips. Roy had wrapped his arms around Edward as they kissed, and he tasted like champagne and tears and if that wasn't just Roy and Ed in a nutshell, Ed didn't know what was. “I love you, Roy.”

“I love you.” Edward mumbled, his gaze moving back up to the sky that was crying on him now. The ground was cold beneath his back, but it served as a reminder that he was alive, that he was real and breathing and that this whole thing wasn't a total nightmare that could wake from. Edward shut his eyes against the tears that burned his eyes and forced himself to take a deep breath. It was stuttering and he let the tears escape as he rolled onto his side, pulling his knees up. It felt like he was dying, he kind of wished that he was. “You're my favourite thing about me, Roy. Please don't go.” He whispered, flesh fingers reaching out to brush against the marble stone in front of him.

“Don't go where I can't follow.” He begged through the tears, his fingers tracing the name in front of him as thunder clapped along the sky. “You need to come back, Roy. You need to fix this country, I need you. You had all these stupid plans for our wedding. What am I meant to do now? I had my heart set on you, I can't just let you go, Roy.”

A hand on his shoulder made Edward look over his shoulder as he pushed himself up onto his knees in the mud. Alphonse crouched besides him while Winry waited on the path beneath an umbrella. Edward collapsed against his brother, sobbing into his coat as Al tugged him close. “We thought we'd find you here, brother.” Al's voice was soft, quiet. It surrounded Edward and it used to make him feel safe and confident but all he felt now was the searing agony of having Roy ripped from him. He turned his head to look at the fresh grave at his side, and Edward had thought he had stopped wanting to bring back the dead. “Come on, you need to come home, Ed.” Al tried, pulling Edward to his feet but the older brother didn't move. He felt Winry move to his side, rather than heard her and she was slipping her hand into his as Al hugged his other arm.

“Why did he have to leave me?” Edward sobbed, letting his family wrap him up in their arms as his world burned and fell around him.

#royed week #Roy Mustang #royed #Royed week 2018 #edward elric #Fullmetal Alchemist #FMA #angst #character death #broken hearted #I'm so sorry for this #please don't hate me

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hottytoddynews · 7 years

Link

Delta Magazine has compiled a list of influencers — the history makers, the tastemakers and the movers and shakers out in the world as we know it shaping the way we think, what we see and what we talk about collectively as a nation. Take note: the breadth of these influences and the everlasting effects will blow your mind.

By Melissa Townsend, Addy McDaniel and Noel Workman with Luther Brown, Roger Stolle and Mark H. Stowers

This story was republished with permission of Delta Magazine

1. Robert Johnson (1911-1938) The Man, The Myth

Has there ever been a bluesman more controversial and inspiring than Robert Leroy Johnson of Hazelhurst, Mississippi? The questions keep his name in the headlines. Did he really sell his soul to the Devil at The Crossroads? If so, where? And how did he die? (His running-buddy Honeyboy Edwards claimed it was a jealous man and some poisoned whiskey. The back of the death certificate theorized disease. And the latest book on the subject suggests bad moonshine.) In which of three possible cemeteries is his body buried? How many images exist of the enigmatic musician? And why have so many claimed to have “real” photos? Seventy-eight years, three headstones and multiple crossroads later, his legend still draws tourists to the Mississippi Delta from around the world every day—not to mention rock stars from Robert Plant to Ozzie Osbourne. Still, none of the controversies would matter if his musical talent and legacy didn’t back it all up. Simply put, Johnson was the Jimi Hendrix of his generation. He took what came before, made it something new, and we’re still trying to figure it out. For music fans and musicians in search of both story and inspiration, stops at his “graves” near Greenwood (especially the third, most likely, site that includes an official Mississippi Blues Trail marker) and the ceremonial (though definitely not definitive) “Crossroads” marker in Clarksdale are essential stops. – Roger Stolle

2. Jim Henson (1936-1990) Creator of the World’s Most Famous Frog

If you’re under 50, it’s probably hard to imagine television and movies before the Muppets. Many are still surprised that the inspiration for this life-shaping collection of puppets came from the Mississippi Delta. Greenville born Jim Henson spent his childhood on the banks of Deer Creek near his Stoneville home. Kermit, the original Muppet, sprang from Henson’s childhood and memories of playing along nearby Deer Creek with childhood friend T. K. (Theodore Kermit) Scott, the inspiration for the frog’s name. He first garnered fame in the 1970s when he joined Sesame Street, and helped develop characters for the series. He also appeared in the sketch comedy show Saturday Night Live. Henson won fame for his creations, particularly Kermit the Frog, Miss Piggy, Rowlf the Dog, and Ernie, and was involved with Sesame Street for more than 20 years. Puppeteer, artist, cartoonist, inventor, screenwriter, songwriter, musician, actor, film director, and producer who changed the way children learned and created some of the most unforgettable characters in pop culture. – Noel Workman

3. Archie Manning America’s Football Family

“People ask me if I knew all this would happen…The short answer would be, Of course not. As proud as I am, I didn’t know. And I wouldn’t have dared to dream it. But I do know this. It wasn’t a fluke.” – Archie Manning, Manning: A Father, His Sons and a Football Legacy

The flat land of Drew’s athletic fields forged a living legend in Archie Manning. The three-sport phenom would go onto Rebel glory, marry the homecoming queen and produce three SEC football scholarshipped sons. Two would take their dad’s DNA and upbringing and spin NFL Super Bowl gold while a third would make his mark in the financial and entertainment world. His NFL days with the New Orleans Saints were marred with losing records and plenty of blooper reel material. But the humble Rebel kept taking snaps—and hits—and represented his home state (Mississippi) and adopted state (Louisiana) to the best of his ability. The hometown hero never got a ring, but his passion for the game and desire to be the best husband and dad gave him immeasurable rewards to reap off the field. Sons Cooper, Peyton and Eli as well as their mom, Olivia, know they’ve got an MVP and Hall of Famer that they wouldn’t trade for anything. In the business world, Manning has put his stamp on successful companies and he’s even helped provide stable success at his alma mater, vetting and recruiting coaches. Super Bowl success may now run in the family, but it’s all rooted in the Mississippi Delta. One would be hard-pressed to find a sports fan who doesn’t know of the Manning legacy. – Mark H. Stowers

4. B.B. King (1925-2015) Ambassador of The Blues

Barry Brecheisen Photography/Courtesy Of B.B. King Museum

Simply put, Riley “B.B.” King was the last universally-known bluesman the world will ever know. B.B. King or simply “B.B.”—no blues name will ever be as instantly recognized by kids and grandmas, kings and queens, presidents and rock stars. Period. He was born just east of Indianola, Mississippi, because he really couldn’t have come from anywhere other than the Delta and sounded like he did. Even after his blues went uptown—adding horns and enough band members to fill a bus—his music still “felt” like his native land. It was still connected to the cotton fields, church houses and juke joints he grew up in as a young man. It was fitting, then, that 89 years after his arrival on planet earth, his final request brought him back home to a small plot next to the world-class museum that bears his name, the B.B. King Museum and Delta Interpretive Center in Indianola. In case there is any doubt of his influence on rockers, after King’s passing last year, Rolling Stone magazine headlined an article: “10 Legendary Acts that Wouldn’t Exist without B.B. King.” The list included Jimi Hendrix, Cream, Santana, Allman Brothers…It’s a list that could go on and on, and probably will. Forever. – Roger Stolle

Getty Images

5. Joseph Biedenharn (1864-1952) Brilliant Bottler of Americana

Sooner or later, Coca-Cola would have been the world-wide symbol of classic Americana, but Vicksburg’s Joseph Biedenharn sure gave it a jump start. Like all other soda fountain sellers in the 1890s, he created the fountain drink with a squirt of Coke’s super-secret syrup plus a lot of carbonated water, a system used for rose, claret, grape, peach, orgeat, sasaparilla and peppermint. Biedenharn’s primary job was running a Vicksburg candy company, but wanted to supply out-of-town customers. In 1894 he sent one of the first cases of “bottled” Coca-Cola to Asa Candler in Atlanta, who at that time had complete control of Coca-Cola. Candler commented, “it was fine.” From that, the Biedenharn family’s interest in Coca-Cola grew to hold the bottling rights in Mississippi, Louisiana, Texas and Arkansas. Thanks to Joseph, the premier symbol of American culture was available to everyone who had a nickel—plus a two-cent deposit on the bottle. – Noel Workman

6. Holt Collier (1846-1952) The Legendary Bear Hunter and his Boon

Willa Johnson

What do Winnie the Pooh, political satire and the Mississippi Delta have in common? Holt Collier, of course, the famous Delta bear hunter whose legendary hunt with President Theodore Roosevelt resulted in the beginning of an industry that has produced untold numbers of soft bear toys. The name teddy bears originated from the 1902 Delta hunting trip to which Roosevelt was invited. Most of his fellow hunters had already killed an animal when Collier, the Delta’s legendary bear hunter, cornered, clubbed, and tied a bear to a tree for the President to shoot. The President refused to shoot the bear, deeming it unsportsmanlike. His decision famously became the topic of a Washington Post political cartoon. The President may have hated the nickname Teddy, but he permitted a toy maker to use his name. “Teddy’s bears” were an immediate success and forever became an iconic children’s toy. – Noel Workman

7. Morgan Freeman The Voice, The Face, the Living Legend

When Hollywood needed to put a voice and face on God, they came to Charleston, Mississippi, and asked for Morgan Freeman. Certainly his talent is on loan from the Big Man himself and his body of work has certainly been of biblical proportions. In the 1970s he taught us how to read on “Electric Company” on PBS and eventually found his way to the big screen where his talent showered the world with dramatic roles, though he also nailed characters that instantly tickled our funny bone with his comedic skills. His working buddies have included Paul Newman, Batman and Miss Daisy as every role he takes seems to spring from his Delta upbringing. His trophy collection includes a Golden Globe an Oscar and he’s continually nominated for each. Even with all of that Hollywood power and glory, the man stays grounded in the fertile Delta soil and even creates much of the digital voice over work from a North Mississippi studio built just for that. His “Lucius Fox” character creates Batman “toys” on the big screen but in real life, Freeman has used his Rock River Foundation to raise money for Hurricane Katrina victims and much more. He’s partnered with Clarksdale mayor and friend Bill Luckett to bring needed revitalization to the North Delta community through his Ground Zero Blues Club. His car wreck in Mississippi made international headlines a few years back, but it hasn’t slowed him down too much. His mocking narration of a Justin Bieber’s “Love Yourself” garnered millions of YouTube hits, originally published by Vanity Fair, his ubiquitous voice still heard in Visa commercials and other narrations. However controversial, when Morgan Freeman speaks, we hear about it. But “Red” learned long before he found success in life and before Dufresne put so aptly in words that he should “get busy living, or get busy dying.” – Mark H. Stowers

8. Craig Claiborne (1920-2000) King of the Culinary Arts

“Foodies now have more celebrity chefs to worship than spatulas, yet even the chefs themselves probably do not realize the debt they owe to Craig Claiborne (1920-2000),” his niece Marion Barnwell wrote in Delta Magazine’s 2009 tribute. “In his time he caused a food revolution.” Introducing the star-rating system, The New York Times restaurant critic could make or break a restaurant, and became a favorite figure in the New Yorker cartoons. The New York Times published 20 of his cookbooks, the first selling more than three million copies. When the Sunflower-born, Indianola reared Claiborne was asked by a Chicago reporter to name the best cook in the South, he famously answered, “My mother.” A two- page spread followed in a 1948 issue of Liberty magazine of Miss Kathleen “holding court” in her boarding house, where servants doted on the young Claiborne and he had his first taste of culinary artistry. Later, his own lavish dinners would make headlines and he would become an American culinary icon. – Delta Magazine

9. Tennessee Williams (1911-1983) That Baby Doll Man and Broadway

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and Summer and Smoke didn’t just happen. They were Tennessee Williams’ up close, painful observations of life growing up in the Mississippi Delta. Set on a plantation, Cat examined the relationships between Big Daddy, his son Brick and Maggie, the “Cat,” All were thinly veiled Deltans, revealed to the world through the playwright’s amazing and tortured theatrical skills. And his Summer and Smoke includes references to Moon Lake Casino, a far cry from today’s gamblers’ magnets. As a boy Williams was dazzled by the lavish entertainments of Clarksdale’s Blanche and J.W. Cutrer. The playwright even used the Cutrer name in The Glass Menagerie and A Streetcar Named Desire. Williams may have been born in Columbus, but spent his early years the rectory of Clarksdale’s St. George Episcopal Church in Clarksdale, home of his grandfather. Those years helped shape the most influential American playwright of the 20th century. – Noel Workman

10. Muddy Waters (1913 or 1915-1983) Still Got His Mojo Working’

On one of the two markers that sits out on Stovall Plantation where McKinley “Muddy Waters” Morganfield grew up, no less than god (lowercase “g”) speaks volumes in one sentence. At the former home site on the outskirts of Clarksdale, British blues-rocker Eric Clapton declares, “Muddy Waters’ music changed my life, and whether you know it or not, and like it or not, it probably changed yours, too.” The Rolling Stones (the band) and Rolling Stone (the magazine) apparently agree. Both named themselves after one of his songs. Beyond the Muddy Waters importance to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and GRAMMY set, there is also the bluesman’s amazing and lasting influence on blues music itself. From the 1950s onward, he was a household name in blues circles with a veritable who’s who of “Chicago blues” greats flowing through this band, including Jimmie Rodgers, Otis Spann, Willie Dixon, James Cotton, Hubert Sumlin, Big Walter Horton, Pinetop Perkins and others—also born in Mississippi. More than three decades after his death, his hits are still played weekly at blues bars and rock clubs around the globe. Next time you hear the ubiquitous “Got My Mojo Workin’,” tip your hat to Mr. Muddy and the Great State of Mississippi. – Roger Stolle

“When I first heard The Best of Muddy Waters, it was the most powerful music I’d ever heard, the most expressive. I’d listed to Mozart, I’d listened to Beethoven. This is on par with the best music in the world.” – Keith Richards, “Keith Richards: Under the Influence”

11, 12 Larry Gordon & Chuck Gordon Hollywood Heavyweights

“If you build it, he will come.” – “Field of Dreams”

Larry and Chuck. Chuck and Larry. Belzonians love their native son brothers, the Gordon brothers, whose executive and producer credits in Hollywood (Lawrence Gordon and Charles Gordon) include blockbusters such as 1987’s “Predator,” 1988’s “Die Hard” and 1989’s “Field of Dreams.” Larry was president of 20th Century Fox and later formed his own entertainment company with his brother, Chuck. Their filmographies take moviegoers through decades of memorable flicks. When these two Californians need to get a fill of home, however (or rather of Winkie Allen’s caramel cake), Larry especially may jet into town without much notice or fanfare for a slice of both. Chuck once challenged me as DELTA Magazine editor to track down the recipe for the old Pig Stand barbecue, in hopes of surprising his brother with pulled pork sandwiches and ribs. “He’d think he’d died and gone to heaven!” In that exchange, Chuck shared, “I have so many fond memories of Belzoni and constantly give it and its lore and colorful characters credit for whatever success I’ve had in this business. Larry and I are so lucky to have grown up there.” – Melissa Townsend

13. William Alexander Percy (1885-1942) The Greenville Galvanizer

William Alexander Percy, a Greenville native who was seldom seen outside of Tralake plantation, provided the hothouse that produced a number of authors who writings helped explained the Delta to the world. Lanterns on the Levee, his 1941 bestselling autobiography, helped explain the Mississippi Delta of a century ago to the world. His leadership helped bring Hodding Carter, who created the Delta Democrat-Times, and helped Carter explain the Delta to a changing Mid-century America. Percy’s nephew Walker Percy explained the vagaries of the human heart to the world through his fiction. Walker’s childhood friend Shelby Foote helped explain the Civil War to Americans no longer interested in that conflict. And Will Percy’s sponsorship encouraged Greenville’s every growing collection of published authors: Hodding Carter III, his son W. Hodding Carter, Ellen Douglas, Bern Keating, Charles Bell, Gayden Metcalfe, Julia Reed. A generation ago, Greenville was famous for having “more published authors per capita than any other city in the nation.” Will Percy was the example and made writing an honorable, attainable job. – Noel Workman

14. Willie Morris (1934-1999) The Giver of Literary Gifts

We all loved Willie Morris, our beloved Mississippi author. He started shaping our imagination in the fifth grade, when teachers read Good Ole Boy: A Delta Boyhood aloud in classrooms. What child growing up in the Mississippi Delta would ever forget tales of the infamous Witch of Yazoo—and didn’t shiver every time the family traveled old 49 to and from Jackson at the sight of hills and kudzu? The ‘good ole boy’ from wrote about friendships, but the one he shared with his dog Skip would make the Mississippian a part of American film history, too. Willie died (too young) just before the major motion picture “My Dog Skip” debuted, starring Frankie Muniz, Diane Lane, Luke Wilson and Kevin Bacon. As a nation in the theatres, we laughed and we cried. Back home in Mississippi, we still read Willie stories and we still tell Willie stories. Conversations with Willie at a country club party, his practical jokes, the index cards to which he jotted down ideas and memories, his drink of choice at The Gin in Oxford, his love of Doe’s Eat Place, his booth and dish of choice at Lusco’s. Of course, we quote Willie too—in our own writings, on Twitter and instagram posts and, as it turns out, in that now ubiquitous Faulkner “quote.” The source of “To understand the world, you must first understand a place like Mississippi,” as best as any researcher can find, is Willie paraphrasing Faulkner in a 1996 New York Times book review. Yep, Willie’s mark on our culture and society will never wane. He touches our souls. As his epitaph reads, “even across the divide of death, friendship remains an echo forever in the heart.” – Melissa Townsend

15. Charlie Conerly (1921-1996) The Father of Football

A man’s man football player. The original Marlboro Man wore number 42 and Ole Miss red and blue during his college years. He would don the same colors and number for the fabled New York Giants. The tough quarterback made plenty of Southerners pay allegiance to the team above that played its home games in Yankee Stadium. With his cleats hung up after the 1961 season, he came home to Clarksdale, called an option and sold shoes across the Mississippi Delta through stores that bore his name. Conerly is a member of The College Hall of Fame and Ole Miss Team of the Century and his wife Perian supported him throughout his career while carving her own swath as an author (Backseat Quarterback), columnist and TV appearance on “What’s My Line?” His number has been retired and he held plenty of Giants records and he is reviled in his home state, Conerly may never be enshrined in the NFL Hall of Fame but in the Delta, there’s Charlie and there’s Archie—and that’s one heck of a Delta Hall of Fame. He may have left us in 1996, but the quarterback’s influence cuts deep in the Delta. – Mark H. Stowers

16. Charlaine Harris Bloody Good Writer

Vampires, from the Delta? Few could have predicted that Tunica native Charlaine Harris would dominate television’s “True Blood,” a dark fantasy series, based on her Southern vampire mystery novels set in a fictional small town in northwestern Louisiana. “True Blood” premiered on HBO in 2008 and its 80 episodes ran for seven seasons. NBC just picked up the supernatural drama “Midnight, Texas,” based on her three-book series, centering around a remote Texas town where “no one is who they seem.” From werewolves and witches to psychics and hit men, writer Charlaine horrifies us—and we’re so proud. – Noel Workman

17. Hoda Kotb The Princess of Pop Culture

Who doesn’t love Hoda? Americans are on a first-name basis with NBC’s “The Today Show” co-host Hoda Kotb, and guess where she got her big break? Greenville, Mississippi. To this day, Hoda Kotb still credits Stan Sandroni (her “game changer”), WXVT-TV and the Mississippi Delta for literally changing her life and steering her career. Noel Workman interviewed Hoda for DELTA Magazine many years ago and she couldn’t have been kinder or more grateful to the people of the Delta. One of her quotes from that interview about Delta storytellers would end up in The Delta: Landscapes, Legends and Legacies of Mississippi’s Storied Region. We’ll always claim her! Now Hoda has millions of viewers curled up on the couch with coffee, while Hoda and Kathie Lee sip their wine—in their pajamas—on national television. Of course we love her! With the off-the-wall stunts she and Kathie Lee pull, she just may have the coolest job in America. I mean, we go to work humming a new Meghan Trainor song none of your friends have even heard yet because Hoda said it was her fave. Next thing you know, it’s a hit! And how much fun has it been watching Delta girl Elizabeth Heiskell in the NBC kitchen enlightening Americans on Delta hospitality and holding court with Hoda on air? Hoda simply makes mornings, and life, more fun. Cheers! – Melissa Townsend

18. Bobbie Gentry The Mississippi Mystery Girl

The questions surrounding the mysteries behind the lyrics in Bobbie Gentry’s “Ode to Billie Joe,” the singer’s real name, its spelling, the aloofness and all but disappearance of the musician herself, still linger after all these years—since 1967 to be exact, when her single knocked “All You Need is Love” by the Beatles off the top of the charts. Every third of June, nostalgic music fans feel compelled to post a photo of some barren landscape or cotton field and quote the opening line in the song, “It was the third of June, another sleepy, dusty Delta day…” This year, we finally declared it: June 3rd, National Bobbie Gentry Day! Journalists still try to track her down, but if you want the answers to many of the aforementioned questions, we gave them to you in the cover story by Bill Ellis in the 12th anniversary collector’s edition of DELTA Magazine, the July/August 2015 issue. Oh, yeah, and the bridge! The Tallahatchie Bridge! Which one? Where is it? We addressed that too, yet there’s still debate. As to Bobbie Gentry’s whereabouts, well, we came mighty close on that one, and at press time, decided to respect her life as a private citizen. Her ties to Greenwood have not all been broken, however, which allows us to believe that she read it all, your letters that followed included. To Bobby Lee Streeter, we will always love your music as much as the thrill of the chase. – Delta Magazine

19. Newell Turner The Eyes of American Design

The last time Newell Turner graced the pages of DELTA Magazine, he was editor-in-chief of House Beautiful, a lofty position in the worlds of media and interior design. Now the Belzoni native oversees three shelter magazines for Hearst Design Group: Elle Décor, House Beautiful, Veranda and Metropolitan Home magazines. As one who brands content for the largest publisher of monthly magazines in the U.S., it’s Newell behind the cool collaborations with designers and posed questions on paint colors and next-big things. Designer and friend Charlotte Moss adds more. “Beyond design what makes Newell the ultimate influencer is his intelligence, his curiosity and his enthusiasm for all the layers in our business, making him a rare bird,” Charlotte says. “He’s also just a heck of a lot of fun to be around!” Newell’s father Tom Turner was mayor of Belzoni for more than two decades, his mother Rose Marie an English teacher. We also asked designer Bunny Williams about Newell’s national impact in the interior design industry. “There is no one who has a better pulse on the interior design community than Newell,” Bunny tells us. “He sees that we are all exposed to the most creative talent in our industry. And no one does it with more charm and style—a product I am sure, of his Delta upbringing!” – Melissa Townsend

20. Mary Wilson Supremely a Motown Mama

“Stop! In the name of love/before you break my heart…” Need we even cue a chorus by The Supremes, from any one of their 12 number-one Motown hits? Diana Ross didn’t do it alone; she had a Mississippi Delta girl, Mary Wilson, by her side. As biographies go, Wilson wasn’t just born in Greenville, but her family migrated north while she was still a toddler, leaving behind relatives she would return to visit time and time again. Playing on the levee as a child to picking up Delta hot tamales on the way back to the airport would be memories she would later recall as vividly as her life as a “Dreamgirl” in subsequent autobiographies. “We became famous at a time when black was not beautiful,” Wilson told Delta Magazine in a 2007 interview. “We were part of that social change.” To have a first hit record at age 19 or 20, and in 1964, was life changing for this performer, but for millions of Americans then as now, Mary Wilson set the stage that talent, beauty and grace know no boundaries. And when there’s a Motown band playing, we’ll never stop singing and snapping in sync on the dance floor. “Think it o’ oh’ vah…” – Delta Magazine

21. Thomas Harris Hannibal the Cannibal

“I do wish we could chat longer, but I’m having an old friend for dinner.” The year was 1991 when the nation met one of cinema’s most terrifying creations on the big screen. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, the cannibalizing serial killer as famously portrayed by Anthony Hopkins, was created by suspense writer Thomas Harris. The film adaptation of The Silence of the Lambs was one of that year’s most buzzed-about movies, and an Oscar sweep followed, but Harris’s 1988 novel also won its share of accolades for fiction and horror writing. Rarely has Harris granted interviews, even when his own mother, still living and residing in Cleveland at the time, gave Delta Magazine his home phone number. (He politely rejected our request many years ago. Where’s agent Clarice Starling when you need her?) Although his writing is “a kind of torment,” in Stephen King’s words, his literary agent has described Harris as having “a courtliness you associate with the South.” Shiver you may, but the work of this Southern gent in the psychological horror and thriller genres made an indelible, chilling mark on literary and film history. – Melissa Townsend

22. Muriel Wilkins (1936-1990) The Spiritual Presence

The legacy of Muriel Wilkins would have been limited to the hearts of Tunica County residents and those of us lucky enough to have heard her play piano at the old Hollywood Cafe, private parties or in her church. Just four years before she died, however, her fate in music history was sealed the night she met Marc Cohn visiting from New York at the Robinsonville restaurant. The angelic Delta gospel singer invited Marc to sit with her and echo her singing “Amazing Grace,” whispering words of wisdom to the torn and hindered songwriter. The lyrics to Marc Cohn’s hit song “Walking in Memphis” tell the rest of the incredible, spiritual story. Meeting Muriel in the Mississippi Delta made Cohn, winner of the 1991 Grammy for Best New Artist, a household name. She gave Cohn the most beautiful inspiration for one of the most unforgettable, uplifting pop songs in history. It’s on many a playlist, still reverberating throughout our culture—a song that still makes us choke every time we hear and sing it. – Delta Magazine

23. Fannie Lou Hamer (1917-1977) The Advocate

The Delta produced many great Civil Rights activists who worked tirelessly as “foot soldiers for freedom,” seeking the right to vote and improve their families’ lives. Among giants like Amzie Moore, Aaron Henry, Charles McLaurin, Sam Block, and many others, one name personifies the honesty, charisma, eloquence and selfless dedication of a true leader: Fannie Lou Hamer. Mrs. Hamer lived her adult life in Ruleville, Mississippi. She did not know that she could register to vote until she was 37, and when she tried to register and was refused, she lost her job as a sharecropper’s wife and was forced to leave her home. Instead of being intimidated she was empowered and dedicated her life to the oppressed. Her deep Christian faith sustained her through threats and a serious beating. She helped found the Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party in 1963 and emotionally addressed the Democratic Convention in 1964. She ran for the Second Congressional District in the same year. Later in life, she turned her attention to human rights and founded Freedom Farm to aid the hungry. She is remembered for her impromptu speeches and her strong singing voice. She is memorialized with a life-sized bronze statue and a Mississippi Freedom Trail marker at her gravesite in Ruleville, on the grounds of the old Freedom Farm. Her headstone bears her signature phrase, “I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.” – Luther Brown

24. Julia Reed The Delta Storyteller

Southern cuisine has been a national food trend, as seen in magazines such as Food & Wine and Bon Appétit for years, and on restaurant menus from California to Kalamazoo. Quite frankly, the Yankees, with their less than colorful cultures, are jealous. Luckily we have writer Julia Reed to enlighten Americans (explain?) on Southern food and Southern taste, which includes, of course, Mississippi Delta-style entertaining. Her underlying goal? To show non-Southerners how and “why we do have so much more superior fun.” Her words. Julia is a modern day storyteller, a Delta character to be sure. She’s telling our outlandish Delta stories to a national audience through magazine articles, essays, books and cookbooks. While her web of chefs and designers and writers from New York to New Orleans is wide, her entertaining style always leads her back to the Mississippi Delta. (Who could forget the spread in Vogue of her closet and designer shoe collection, and that was more than 15 years ago!) With her new Southern cookbook (see Food) published by a major New York publishing house, she’s doing just what she told us at a recent book signing. “I’m sharing the great blessing of having grown up in the Delta with people in and outside the place.” – Melissa Townsend

Pop Culture Catalysts: 3 Unsung Heros

25. Boo’s Literary Coup

“Thanks to Coach Ferriss,” a young John Grisham hung up his baseball cap and dreams of becoming a professional baseball player when he was cut from the team, and started a new career path. Grisham’s The Firm spent 47 weeks on The New York Times bestseller list, and he’s been batting a thousand ever since. More than 300 million John Grisham books are in print; nine titles have been turned into films. And to think we can owe it all to our beloved Delta State University baseball coach Boo Ferriss, who advised Grisham to “stick to the books.”

26. Frankly, My Dear…

It’s the work of writer Willie Morris that generations of DELTA Magazine readers will always remember, but another Yazoo City boy before Willie’s time can be credited as the impetus for the popularity of one of the most well-known pieces of Southern fiction. Herschel Brickell (1889-1952) was one of the country’s best-known book reviewers and is often credited with launching Margaret Mitchell’s career with his glowing review of Gone with the Wind. Mitchell won a Pulitzer for her only novel and quotes from the 1939 film adaptation are two of the most memorable of all time.

27. Ben and His Editing Pen

The Brodsky Collection

Believing he had written “the damnest best book you’ll look at this year,” William Faulkner’s manuscript of Flags in the Dust was rejected. Shocked and angered, he asked his Greenville friend Ben Wasson, a New York literary agent, to recommend it to his publishers. Eventually, Harcourt accepted it on the condition that Wasson himself cut it at least by a quarter. Wasson labored, Faulkner continued writing, and it was finally published as Sartoris, the first of Faulkner’s tales set in Yoknapatawpha County. According to Myself and the World (University Press of Mississippi), Faulkner had “discovered what would become a signature trademark of his later fiction: the interrelationship of the present with the past.”

Scott Coopwood, publisher of Delta Magazine.

Delta Magazine is considered one of the most unique regional lifestyle publications, which some even call “the most southern magazine on earth.” The Mississippi Delta is known for its literary, musical and culinary heritage, as well as for its legendary entertaining style and social traditions. The bi-monthly Delta Magazine embodies every aspect of the Mississippi Delta with its fresh content, cutting-edge photography and devoted readership. Learn more by visiting deltamagazine.com.

For questions or comments, email [email protected].

The post Delta Magazine: 25+ Most Influential Deltans in American Pop Culture appeared first on HottyToddy.com.

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storyofmytattoo-blog · 7 years

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Mr Fix It

You are on the top of a 100 stores building with wings to fly, would you fly? Would you do it? Or you would not? The choice is yours. But remember there are outcomes (unknown) in both situations. Will you not trust your wings? Or would you trust the KARMA and fly? What? What? What would you do?

Let’s say you did not, then what? Let’s say you did fly, then what? What are you thinking? You are thinking about the possibilities and all the outcomes in both situations but why? Why? Why are you making all the outcomes when you have not even begun the first stage of your action? We are all confused and our confusion drags us to outcomes that we don’t even have a hind, is it not? Yet we all assume this and that before we even did something?

Life is funny and always like that. It makes us think and drag us to that corner of the world where we have to decide whether to stay or come out. Is it not? I think so. And so does artist Edward Swanson who has been in the industry since 2012 and have traveled across oceans and mountains to flourish the art (tattoo). Artist Swanson said, “Tattoo changed me into a whole different person, a better one; happier and stronger me.”

My option - Deadbeat artist or Scumbag Tattooer?

Growing up, I was always surrounded by the arts and myth. My mother is a potter you see, and was a bit of a hippie. It still remains the family business in fact. Our whole house was a huge studio where she made her crafts. We also had a lot of dusty old books. Some had tales of otherworldly things and bizarre illustrations. Others were catalogs of old ceramics and historic art. There were of course a lot of National Geographics lying around. It was the synergy of these influences that may well have put me on this path, or at least dictate aesthetics that interest me. But what were particularly fascinating for me were those patterns and symbols found on old ceramics. How these black shapes and lines interacted on three dimensional forms. And also what they signified. It is a visual language. It may not be obvious to an intellectual, but on a visceral level it makes sense. Though it may not be a literal picture (sometimes), it tells a story. It is these stories that ignites the imagination and defines our humanity.

Before I even had the inclination to be a tattooer, I was living in a warehouse squat and doing odd jobs, mostly construction, and some book illustration on the side. Sometimes I would get gigs hanging art at galleries. Even more rare, a few of my paintings managed to get into shows at those galleries, but I never really had luck selling anything. It was a fairly squalid and chaotic existence. But I was alive, and I got to make art. Eventually however, I felt like I needed more. I had fire but no direction. I needed to cultivate a discipline. That is how I met my first mentor. She suggested the idea of tattooing and offered to teach me a few things. So there was the crossroads: to continue as some deadbeat artist, or do something slightly more respectable like a Scumbag tattooer. The choice was obvious.

When I was first learning to tattoo I hated it. I was arrogant for sure. I had just completed my traditional training in fine art, and I was used to soft mediums like painting and drawings where you could be loose and erase your mistakes. The technique was more harsh, unforgiving and brutal than any medium I had encountered up until that point. And it intrigued me. When painting and sculpture came so easily, tattooing had my number and it pounded me into the earth like a tent peg. It made me mad with frustration and anguish. But it also cultivated an obsession to figure it out. So even when I struck out on my own and had no real guidance at all, it was my stubborn will and my desperation for survival that kept me on this path. And I continue to survive.

Tattooing to me:

Well, tattooing to me is a collaborative work between the artist and the customer. I believe communication plays a vital role. As an artist, I want to advance my sense of aesthetics and design, but still remain respectful to the patron and their conceptual needs. After all at the end of the day, they have to wear the damn thing, and I want my people to be stoked on what they have for years to come. People are not paper. They have feelings, and it is important to hear them in the design process. I should also note that I have never had the opportunity where somebody requested that I just "do my thing" on them and in some ways I do not know if I would do anyone any good with that request. I feel like the work should be inspired by the nature of that person whether it be a intellectual, emotional or spiritual. Enforcing too much of your own inner workings onto someone else just seems wrong.

It is not always a perfect arrangement though. Everybody has their own ideas about what this sort of work entails. So ego tends to get in the way of this process a lot and that always leads to trouble. I will admit sometimes I get a little too carried away with an idea and the person I am working with is not as ambitious. And sometimes the client has some instincts about a piece that aesthetically are not congruent with how I like to work. Hence the need for clear communication. And keeping your ego in check. Hahaha!

So in short, tattooing for me is like building a house. You do have to build it how the owner would like it, but you have to use your skills, judgment and expertise to make it livable and functional.

My Tattoos:

We live in a strange world where we hold identity in such importance. Most folk know who they are. They know where their people are from, who their ancestors are, and what culture they should participate in, whether it is something traditional, indigenous or capitalistic. Then there are those who are lost. And we are lost because we are disenfranchised by those who feel like they know better. And because our voices are perpetually judged and drowned out by the majority, we are forced to create new identities for ourselves in order to navigate the world around us. But though we are a lost people, we are strong as individuals. These tattoos serve to reclaim and define identity.

My tattoos are of a metaphorical and symbolic nature. They are the synergy of myth and stories, form and function. They are representative of my bloodlines, and my affinity for the land that I hail from. I am of Chinese and Swedish ancestry and I was born in the city of Oakland, California, ICECITY. I have had to fight my whole life in America to justify my existence to many who would not accept me for what I am. These tattoos are defiance to anyone who would wish to challenge me on this. Some are merely abstractions of my land: our rolling hills, our strong oaks, great red wood trees, the warm sun, the dusty earth and the rugged crash of the Pacific Ocean against our rocky coast. Some are reflections on the harsh nature of living in an urban environment and the ignored social ills that come with that life. They are songs of blood, struggle and memory. They are the embodiment of how I have lived, and my will to survive.

Tattooers are not Rock-stars:

I am pretty happy with what I am doing and all but I feel like I still have a lot to learn. I am very grateful for this trade, because in a lot of respects, tattooing saved my life. It changed me into a completely different person; I feel happier and stronger. I am way more confident. I have a place to lay my head that is all mine. And I have more respect and stacks that I have ever seen in my whole life. But what is that worth if your work becomes stagnant? I still want to be challenged by the work. I want to make art that has substance and that is appreciated by my clients and not of a shallow depth just for making money or petting my ego. I desire to constantly improve my technical skills and understanding of tattooing. I want to never stop learning, and keep the excess in check. If you think you have mastered it, you get complacent. You get complacent with the trappings of this line of work, you get a big head. And when you get a big head, you loose sight of what is important and then you will eventually cease to produce work that challenges others. And even though you surround yourself with people who worship the very ground you walk on, you know deep down that you're full of it. Your life is a lie. And then you die. And what is it all worth then?

Mr. Fix It:

Tattooers have all kinds of catchy stupid slogans that they fling at clients to help them earn a buck and look clever. I do not remember where I heard this but “When in doubt, Black it out." definitely applies to what I do. Most of my work is heavy black tattooing and it has been my style since day one. And incidentally, because of that most of my clients come for cover-ups. So I guess you can just call me Mr. Fix It: repairing broken lives and erasing bad decisions one big mag at a time...

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