#(the world's new beginning and its near ending being all because of simon. he has such main character energy and boy does he not want it) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghcstao3 · 7 months

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feeling evil today. cw MCD

angst but it’s a soulmate au where everyone is born without the ability to see colour, but upon meeting your soulmate you can see everything. the only thing is, if you’ve met your soulmate, gained all that colour—if they die after that, you slowly lose it, as well as your vision entirely.

>:)

Soulmates were common enough, sure, but it wasn’t something so common that someone would feel left out if they went their entire lives seeing in only black and white.

That’s Soap’s philosophy about it, anyway. If one never knows colour, then how can it be mourned? If it can’t ever really be imagined with the naturally-imposed state of being human, then why should Soap ever go to bed at night wishing, praying he could find whoever fate had assigned to him, if he ever so happened to encounter them.

It’s his philosophy, at least, until he meets Ghost.

Until he meets Ghost like they aren’t moments from heading toward a possible death, like they aren’t in the midst of soldiers and weapons and nighttime where colours would hardly ever be as vibrant as they could be. Until he meets Ghost and foolishly reaches out to touch him in greeting, and ends up stumbling as his eyes and brain and everything else are forced to adapt to new sights.

Ghost hides it better than he does, but the look he throws Soap’s way is entirely too telling.

They don’t talk about it until they’re finally home safe, after weeks of gruelling work and near-death, after they’ve had the chance to adjust to this new change in their life. They don’t talk about it until they’ve both come to the conclusion that they’re more than willing to try and follow what the universe had given them.

And it works. It works so well. Soap’s thrown aside his old mentality entirely for this new, incredible, wonderful thing, because he’s not sure how he’d feel, if he ever had to go back. If he ever had to lose this new liveliness to the world and return to grey, grey, grey.

But for men like them, men like him, he should’ve known such a good thing would have to come to an end. It’s a natural cycle.

It’s still upsetting, however, when Ghost dies in the field despite his insistence, his promise to make it out of all this alive. To escape the military one day, when they’ve both seen enough conflict and blood, once their souls have truly been tainted beyond repair.

Soap was supposed to retire with him, only a few months later when their contracts reached their ends, but instead finds himself renewing his own for however many years while Ghost’s body lies cremated, interred, dead and gone.

When colours suddenly begin to look less vibrant, Soap just attributes it to his general mood, as of late. To the numbness and anger and everything else he’s been surviving off of since Ghost’s death.

But then colours are sapped from his life entirely, suddenly and gradually all at once, and he realizes it’s just because his soulmate is dead. His soulmate is dead, and the universe has since realized that he is no longer deserving of its colours, its life.

He strains so hard to remember the colour of Ghost’s—Simon’s eyes in those moments it hits him hardest. Strains and fails to remember the pink of his lips, the colour of the freckles and beauty marks that littered his face. Soap can’t even remember the colour of the ink pen he uses to sketch.

Then his vision itself starts to decline. He doesn’t know why, is just suddenly terrified, losing the last of his eyes. The blur becomes too much, he has to be discharged from his career, all he’s ever truly known, and then Soap is at home with his parents and their eternally-grey hair until he can’t even see black and white anymore, and his life is over.

He’s blind. Years after Ghost’s death and he’s lost the love of his life and the colour it gave to him, he’s list his career over something he can’t control, something doctors call unfortunate but irreparable, incurable. Fated to go completely blind, they tell him, since losing his soulmate.

It happens, son. We’re sorry. You’re not alone.

But how could he know that? How could Soap believe that, when his entire world has been stolen from him?

He wishes he could return to his younger, naive self. Return to a world prior to Ghost, and everything that came with him.

Because he’d been right. He wouldn’t have ever felt left out, if he knew this was all his future would ever hold for him.

#oopsie daisies #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #ghost x soap #soapghost #ghoap #ghostsoap #soulmates au #writing

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jean-does-not-have-a-horseface · 3 years

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Jean with their almost full term wife just being extremely uncomfortable, they cry a lot and are just ready for the baby to be out?

Here I go... this has been in my inbox for an embarrassing amount of time but I had this plot in mind for two years and I was waiting for this moment to be animated to be able to write and post this... Listen while you read → the sound of silence by Simon and Garfunkel

Pairing: Jean/ Reader

Tags: hurt/comfort (yes my ✨favorite✨), Jean being a sweetheart

Warnings: pregnancy, grief, mentions of labor and childbirth, crying, Post Sasha's death

The Sound of Silence

The dull, gray shade that was plastered all over the sky was accompanied by an excessive stride of frozen air that was blowing on your hair, sending stray strands of (e/c) flying all over your eyes. A few droplets fell faintly in random places over you and on the freshly trimmed grass that was swaying under your feet. There was a vast variety of tombstones that surrounds you, sternly and calculated lined up tombs extend to a tragic horizon, where your eyes couldn't seem to find an end to. A few leaves were being blown around over them, as well as fresh flower petals, ones you could recognise as you had seen numerous people leave bouquets to their deceased loved ones for all the time you'd stayed here.

Inevitably, the gravestone you were resting your back on was frozen, making your whole body shiver as you lean on it, but you chose not to pay any attention to it; you simply buried your chin between your knees and closed your eyes before letting out a sigh escape you. Your stomach tightened as your chest hitched and you instinctively brought a hand to rub over your swollen tummy. You inspected the bum by running your hand around it, rubbing on a few places near your inverted belly button, pressing slightly over the top as you felt the probing piece of flesh flick in the palm of your hand underneath your dress.

When you felt a kick, a single leg movement push against the insides of your stomach, though, you took away your hand, slamming it onto the ground as you tried to grip onto the moist soil right next to you. It was kind of a peculiar feeling and even now, nine months in you were still fully uncomfortable with it. Being pregnant wasn't something you've enjoyed; rather was more like a hazard to your very health and was reason you were relieved of your soldier duties. And you secretly cursed Jean and yourself a bit for allowing this to happen.

Who on their right mind would enjoy swollen feet and back pains, who would enjoy the crazy mood swings and the fatigue that causes you to be unable of even taking a stroll around the town? Who would ever want to feel suffoccated by how big their pregnancy belly had turned? Not you. Definitely not you, but according to your mother they were supposed to be something you'd enjoy later on.

Now, you weren't so sure.

And you were so overdue yet you weren't even sure you could even take care of your child in the mental state you were in.

Sighing hard after taking a deep inhale you dug your frail fingernails into the soil, feeling the ominous tears that the angry skies were begining to pour. Your eyes lingered on the shapeless coulds, focusing onto the dull, stripped light that could barely peak from underneath them. You felt the faint river of a tear run down your cheek at the sight and the skies responded right back at you with a loud thunderclap. It almost felt as if the skies were mourning Sasha just like you. Maybe, if you tried to convince yourself, you'd believe that it was your childhood friend that cried with you due to your departure.

Feeling your body go stiff and your face go numb from the fresh needles of the cold air that was blowing on you your scrunched your nose upwards, hoping for the action to stimulate even the tiniest blood flow to the numb tip. It didn't, and the tingling sensation of a sneeze madxhed it's way to your blood vessels, scratching methodically at all the right pressure points to force it's release. Finally and with a loud blow you felt your chest go in shock as you sneezed, your whole body joltimg up on your very spot.

Still you sniffled the little drops of moisture with the inside of your elbow, you couldn't find it in you to move or get up, you couldn't even try to find an ounce of physical strength inside your body. Sashas tombstone provided some strong comfort for you though, acting as your only comforter against the cold.

"This can't be any good for you."

A soft, large and so very warm hand came to rest upon your shoulder; delicate fingers gave you a squeeze as a bulky thumb rubbed a few circles to the end of your collarbone. You didn't even have time turn your head to see who it was, frankly because you knew.

His scent, his warmth, his touch, his whole aura practially screamed his name.

"Jean?"

"It's going to rain really hard you know." He said, planting a kiss to your temple. "wanna go back?"

"No." You sniffled dangerously.

"Okay then, I-" Jean paused before squating to your level "I guess were staying here for a bit."

"Thank you."

The soft ruffle that you felt on your hair was Jeans reply and it tousled your hair slightly, allowing the shy blond to catch a tiny sniff of your sweet scent to which he sncrunched his nose slightly and proceeded to place a kiss at the top of your hair line. Then, once again, he placed another kiss on your temple.

Fidgeting with your hand while trying to undig it out of the soil, you closed your eyes at the feeling, expecting the tiniest bits of adoration to enter your body through that kiss. Jean rested his head on your shoulder from his squatting position and you smiled a tiny bit and only in the blink of an eye, exhaling a cold huff of air to his face. A sharp pain in your chest was starting to spread, pushing back away over everything else that lay inside your body, strangling the insides of your throat.

"I miss her already."

You felt your breath chock you from the insides of your throat dangerously; a tight, looking knot was finally making its binds tighter and even more evident to the depths of your stomach as it spread to your throat.

"Me too"

"And God she was more that me excited for our baby."

As you shut your eyes, in frail attempt to mute the memories of Sasha that were coming back to your vision, a single tear rolled from the corner of your eye. With a shaking hand you managed to grip onto the side of Jean's coat; the chachi makò cotton coat rubbed against your thum as if protesting for the dirt that was being wiped on it, yet Jean didn't seem to care.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here for so long when you're dysphoric about pregnancy."

"Its-its fine" You sniffled, a hitched sigh escaping the depths of your throat.

"Mmm baby, it's not, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't bring Sasha back with me too she'd talk to me everyday about betting on how we're going to have twins."

As another thunderclap roared in the background, Jean found it fitting to move his aching legs and shift his position to the ground. As he took a turn, he placed another kiss just next to your eye while he took your hand in between his. With a soft thud he came to rest his body next to yours and you made a slight move to allow him a little more space before his back finally came to rest to the small tomb right behind you. A hand came to wrap around your shoulders lovingly silently begging you to push your head down to your lover's shoulder to which you eagerly complied.

"I kinda think she was right, I'm too huge, I can't even breathe properly these days." Another tiny peck was placed to the top of your head as you spoke. "To be honest," You sniffled "whatever it is I want it to be out."

"I know."

"And I don't want to accept that Sasha died, I grew up with her Jean."

"I know baby." He said and placed a new kiss to your head.

"And for the love of any fucking intelligent titan I'm so swollen and I'm angry and all that could make me happy right now would be you Connie and Sasha teasing me about it."

Jean felt your back pulp on him like a jolting lighting has just fell from the sky. He heard the hard sniffle of your nose and heard the painful sob that was stuck to the back of your throat as your sentence came to an end. This, with a burning desire to let his own heart go loose came the feeling of his own eyes stinging, his own chest jolting, his fingertips gripping onto the side of your head as if they were hanging onto you for dear life.

"All I get though is this stupid tomb!" You cried and threw a clenched first backwards towards the tomb, hitting it with all your potential might as you chocked on your next words. "This stupid fucking reminder that my best friend is dead."

It was so dearly painful. Your heart hammered in your chest in protest to your refusal to deny Sasha's death, your stomach churned in a coiling fire and the big swelling bumb under your right hand rioted against your mourning. But you failed to give a care. Your best friend in the whole world was dead.

You could still remember when you decided to join the military together, you still remembered your very first friends, you still remembered how she and Connie were the ones to help you and Jean get together. You remembered the way you'd play when you were kids and how you'd spend days sewing clothes just to play like you were paying a visit to Sina in your most elegant attire. You remembered watching her fall in love with food and with whom you had thought could be the man of her life.

You remembered every single miniscule moment of your life spent with Sasha and it crushed you.

Nevertheless when Jean's long fingers came to sway over the roots of your hair and his nose nuzzled to the top of your hairline, his lips rubbing onto your soft hair, ready to press another kiss at any given time, your face softned, taking away the chocked sob you were about to let out with it. You brought your hand to your face, pulling your sleeve to cover it up and put it to your nose to wipe the runny goo off of it.

"I know, shh" The ashy blond rubbed his chin to the side of your scalp, giving you the tiniest bit of affection from it before bringing his nose back to your head to rub it on the spot again.

Then, the way that you sighed was almost silent.

Save for the whiny hiccup that escaped you.

"Please don't cry so much, I'm going to panic."

A tiny laughter inevitably escaped you. You remembered that phrase very well. When you had caught Jean crying after Marco's memorial he had came running into your arms, sobbing like a madman and you had wispered the same words while rubbing your palms soothingly over his back. That was the same night that you decided to follow him into joining the scouts, the first night of an endless personal misery.

"It's just-" You cried "I just can't, we've lost so many people and it hurts Jean. I should have been there."

"Shh no, don't think like that."

Jean was holding back tears for you. It was evident in the way that he was shaking and jolting his head from time to time. His palm was flexed in a fist, tightly resting over your shoulder as it gripped a fold in your cloack. You only breathed harder at the realisation, feeling your chest sink in a tremendous amount of pain that left you hollow. You felt another kick coming from the inside of your stomach to which you shut your eyes to, too afraid to see the outline of a hand or a foot appear under the thin linen clothe of your dress. And just like before, another heart wrenching sob escaped you.

"I didn't want to say goodbye." Jean said quietly, his voice coming as a breath that barely brushed your ear. "You didn't even get to say goodbye and that's bad of me to say, but I didnt want to see what I saw. I didn't want to say goodbye. I don't want you to suffer. I don't want to suffer either."

"Jean.."

The sniffling of your nostrils wasn't nowhere near coming to an halt, thus the back of your sleeve was the ideal solution to your distress; had you had any more little power in your body you would reach for the handkerchief in your shoulder bad. But that couldn't be the case. Not until you could feel your feet.

"(Y/n), baby... I'm sorry. I promise I won't let anything happen to you and our baby. Even if it means I have to sacrifice my life for you to be safe."

A gasp came out of your mouth quicker than you had anticipated. The hiccup that escaped you was accompanied by another burning hot tear that run down your eye, your whole spine giving in to the wave of fear that shook you, resulting in your head jolting in shock. Your hand shot to his, gripping it with force to bring it over your stomach, your fingers clinging onto his while pressing hard in between his knuckles.

"Don't say that shit, you're not dying Jean, get that thought out of your idiotic head," You inhaled through hitches "I'm going to die a pitiful death if you leave me."

"Please don't do that." Jean clenched his teeth.

"Then don't die too you idiot."

Another rush of a few raindrops started pouring, this time even more quickly that before. The grass under your feet swayed, each spiky peak bending and bouncing as the weight of the rain hit the ground. Big blotches of water were now forming on your attire, waiting your skin as they came to connect with each other, darkening the brown color of the linen skirt you were wearing. Jean wrapped his hand tighter around you, rubbing his cheek to the top of your head again with mellow force, as if trying to assure you it would be okay for you to stay there for only just a moment more.

And you begged to listen to his silent proposition.

Letting his hand rest loosely over your swollen stomach, you took a deep breath, allowing your self to flex your toes inside your shoes. Your indstep steamed as the little strap squished you so hard that you tried your best to convince yourself you weren't going to deal with a blood clot. You hated that you had come to despise your favorite pair of shoes. All you ever wished for was that then would just fit you like normal. Still, even to that thought, the little being inside you took half a leaping turn, giving another kick to the top of your stomach.

Had Sasha been here she would have told you something to help you get your mind off of it. She would have teased Jean for not being able to keep it in his pants and you would have laughed, feeling the tentuon easing off.

Still, the kick, that most women would have found one of joy, only turned your insides like clothes swept by a tide.

"I want to throw up." You announced, half looking at Jean

"Because of the kick? Or the thought of it?"

"Maybe-maybe both."

It was then that another kiss was planted in your forehead. The raw sound of lips smacking filled the air against the drenching water of the rain, giving a little antsy essence to the gesture. Jean rubbed his closed mouth against your skin with his eyes closed in his best effort to help you calm down.

"Now now," He whispered "It wouldn't be the best thing to throw up in the cemetery, would it?"

With closed eyes, you pouted and shook your head twice in response.

"Okay then, I have a proposal for you."

"What?"

"Want to go visit Marco's grave? And then get you somewhere warm? And changed?"

Your pout intensified amd you fixated your gaze at the ground with furrowed brows. The nauseating feeling in your stomach was coiling begging to obertske you, but there was something so warm about Jean's sweet tone that fought it violently, so much that you could even feel your face loosen up as you melted under his touch.

"Yes, I'd like that."

"Okay then."

You shivered slightly as Jean took his arm off of you and dug it to the ground, giving himself a little prompt as he bend his knees closer to his body before stretching them to get up. Next, he leaned towards you, extending a long arm to your side, his thick, enormous palm stretching as it signaled you to place yours in it. Lifting a hand to his direction faintly you manages to place your palm into his and soon you managed to feel his fingers tighten a grip over your knuckles.

Still though, you couldn't find it in you to get up.

You stared at Jean with brows that screamed in apology, lifted skin littered with regretful lines. You had been feeling heavy lately. Everyone knew that, everyone who laid eyes on you questioned hoe you even managed to walk normally. But today you had struggled to get out of bed so much that you had even considered asking to be carried to Sasha's grave, knowing full well that you were too heavy for this to be a reality.

"You can do it."

"Give me a second, I can feel my lower stomach pulsating."

Jean eyed you with concern, his thumb quick to rub a circle over the knuckle of your pointer finger. You only gave him a mixed look next, squeezimg him just a little as you started pulling his hand. You had to get up. You couldn't stay in the rain until someone picked you up bridal style. Thus, you gave a little push. Just a teeny, tiny push to prompt yourself up and meet Jean halfway.

"Oh, oh crap."

In that moment you couldn't even think of a worse mistake that you had made in your nineteen years of life.

"What?"

You didn't want to believe it. No. It couldn't be happening now.

"Uhm, my water just broke."

"WHAT?"

"There's fluid leaking down my thigh and I'm pretty sure I didn't just pee myself. I wouldn't do that in a graveyard."

In between Jean's petrified expression and the trembling pain in your core, you somehow found yourself be eerily non panicked about the happening. As much as you wanted to scream from the pain, as much as you felt like your feet where going to give out, you were nowhere near turning pale yellow like Jean.

"Was this supposed to happen so suddenly?" Jean breathed heavily.

"Well" You cursed under your breath as you clutched over your stomach "I have been overdue for some days now and, ah fuck this is painful-"

"I'm really, really freaking out right now. What. Do. We. Do?"

"Calm down, let's go to Marco's grave."

"What? No!? Your waters literally broke. They broke, oh my god I'm going to be an actual father." Jean let out a chocked scream while running his other hand through his hair and gripping despairately on the roots.

"Jean, okay I migh-" A sharp pain went through your core "I still have a lot of time until my contraction is big enough for the baby to come out."

"This can't be safe."

"I'm telling you!"

Jean took a deep breath. His chest rose and fell, his shaking fingers steadied just a tiny bit, his trembling feet suddenly felt just a little more steady. This wasn't a time to panic, of course, he knew that far. The look you were giving him, even though it was pained, screamed that he could trust you; despite either of you having absolutely no idea about childbirth, he knew that having an anxiety attack this early into labor would only cause a worse experience for you.

Plus, he was the one who suggested they you'd visit Marco, and he wasn't about to say no to you at your current situation. With a hand bend over his hip, he prompted your own to snail through it for support. At least if you were going to do this, he'd basically walk you there. Pressing his lips together, Jean gave you an longing look, letting a deepnsigh escape the depths of his chest.

Eagerly you nodded at him, linking your arm with his. You softly dug your button lip under your upper flesh, trying your best not to bite into it as another rush of pain washed through you. Having contractions this frequent only meant that you had to rush and you knew that better than anyone else, but there was this little voice in the back of your brain that begged you to not take this moment away from Jean. With a final little stroke at Sasha's tomb and a tear running down your wet, stinging eyes before you matched away and to the direction of Marco's grave, you let yourself think you could hear her say a tiny good luck to you.

"Okay, let's go see Marco alright?" Jean said with a hint of glimmer in his eyes "For five minutes."

"Okay and then I'm going to go and have your child."

"Quite literally."

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#jean x reader #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirschtein #jean kirstein imagine #jean snk #jean aot #snk x reader #aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #aot x reader #snk imagines #snk season 4 #aot season 4 #angst

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rjhpandapaws · 3 years

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Hey Panda! Congratulations on hitting the new milestone! Dunno if it’s still time to ask for a prompt, but if it is, I would love to see you write Simarkus first argument with a fluffy ending, please! Thanks and have a nice day! ^^

//Another first fight. This will be fun!! // @sheyshocked I didn’t mean to publish this blank! //Best read while listening to Battle Cries by the Amazing Devil

It was a long time coming he supposed looking back, that he and Simon would fight. They had fallen together in the midst of a revolution that neither one believed they would survive, and well, when you don’t think you’re going to survive, communicating with your partner isn’t the highest of your priorities. Except they had survived, and Markus’s ability to communicate hadn’t gotten any better. This started out small, as they always did. Signs and signals that were easy to miss if you didn’t know to look for them. Simon had always been surrounded by humans and learned to mimic them, so a lot of his displeasure came across in his body language, not his words, and Markus, for all the good he had done their movement, was not the greatest at reading the room. Carl voiced his displeasure, North did the same, Josh would make an effort to solve it on his own; and Simon, for whatever reason kept it to himself. The first of it started in the odd calm after the revolution, They were in free fall, and Markus scrambled to make a list of things that they wanted met in their personhood. Then came all of the legal meetings and the press, he took Josh with him, he was better at this than the rest of them. That, and he loved red tape situations for whatever reason. He had unintentionally pulled away from Simon, and return Simon had done the same.

The thing was Markus had known none of this at the time. He hadn't known that there was something that needed fixed. Simon was just quiet and Markus had chalked it up to stress. After all of something was wrong he would have said something right? And he did, close to a year on after the revolution, things had slowed down some, but Markus hadn’t, and if he had to guess Simon was getting tired of coming in last on his list of priorities. Which looking back, had been unfair to him. Markus knew that now. “Markus?” Simon asked one evening, “If you have time could we talk?” He was polite, as he always tended to be. Now he knew it had been hesitation. “Of course. I always have time for you.” Markus said setting aside the stack of papers and turning to face Simon. He didn’t miss the ice that passed through those blue eyes. “I was thinking about taking a little time on my own.” Simon said without looking at Markus, “Away from Jericho, I feel out of place here.” Markus had to stop for a moment to process this. After everything they had accomplished, Simon just wanted to leave? “Do you mind my asking why?” “You don’t need me here, didn’t really need me during things either if I’m honest.” He met Markus’s eyes for that one, and if the words hadn’t hurt enough on their own, the distance in his eyes would have done the job, “Everything is just you North and Josh. Now that we aren’t about to die at every turn you don’t need me anymore, so I thought -” There was static at the edge of his voice. Ever since being brought back his vocal processor tried to give out if he got too emotional, “I thought I could find a place where I was needed.”

“You are needed here, there are things we need you for.” Markus replied, “Morale, you help when there are humans or injure-” “Outside of the movement Markus. For once, can you maybe think about something else? Someone else?” Simon pleaded, “You never talk to me anymore if it isn’t about this. During the revolution you always said that after it ended, if we survived, we would get away from all of this. That we would find a place of our own. We survived Markus, I don’t know if you noticed that, and the only thing you’ve gotten away from is me.” “That isn’t true. I know I - We’ve been busy, but I haven’t forgotten you Si, just a little longer, that’s all I’m asking.” Markus pleaded, but he knew the answer even before Simon spoke. “When Markus?” He said flatly, “When you’ve solved the problems of each android ever made? When you’re done being seen as a hero? Or perhaps when all of this red tape gets cleared up? A year Markus, it has been a year and you haven’t talked to me about anything other than this damned movement!” There was a garble of static that Markus figured was supposed to be words, but Simon was too lost to say them, “A year since you told me you loved me.” Those last words hit him like a physical blow and Markus wanted to argue, but the thing was he couldn’t remember, “Simon, I’ve be-” “Been busy, I know.” Came the faintly static reply, “But that is exactly my point. Maybe we should put whatever this was meant to be on hold, until you can figure this out, because I can’t keep throwing myself at a wall Markus; not again; not even for you. I did this once already and its how I wound up in that boat to begin with, and it is certainly not how I wish to spend the rest of my life.”

Before Markus could reply he was gone. Markus stared at the doorway where he had been standing. He could remember those moments clearly. The nights and other moments when it was relatively safe and they could breathe, those times when they dared to dream about the world after the revolution. Promises that he ad every intention to keep, promises that had had gotten buried beneath paperwork and an image put on him by the rest of the world. He had, in small but certain steps forgotten about Simon. It was too late to admit that because the security system had already announced his absence, and even then, he had asked for space. Markus could give him that. They both had things to think about. Simon what he wanted out of life, and Markus about where exactly he had lost his. He hadn’t expected being alive to be so much work. North was good at handling politicians, and Josh’s dream job was apparently was to be nested in piles of paperwork. If Markus would only let him he would be doing this in his place, but apparently he was so used to being The Revolutionary now that he hadn’t been able to set it aside. For all it had gotten him, he had just lost the one thing he had been fighting for. Their right to life, to exist, to be able to feel, all so he could love without being killed, except he had pushed away the one person he had fought the world for. Losing Simon the first time had been hard, but this was worse. He knew that outside the house Simon was still well, but this time he just didn’t want to be neat him. Alive and well, but no where near him. He sighed quietly and looked back at the daunting pile of paperwork. Was this really what he wanted? Politics until his thirium pump rolled over and gave out? Is this what he wanted to make of the sacrifices made for him? He knew the answer to all of that, it was a resounding no. What he wanted was the life he had dared to dream of when hunched in an empty box car with Simon.

He lasted until midnight, not that he had gotten anymore work done of course. No, he had simply been staring at the door trying to find where things had gone so wrong. Where along the way he had exchanged his happiness for in image. Where in all of this he had lost Simon. It was so gradual and slow going that he couldn’t find the exact moment he had lost Simon, it still felt too much like he had been there one moment and gone the next; but he knew when he started pulling away. It was around the six month mark, right when Markus’s political career took off. When the paperwork had buried him and Simon along with it. Made a wall that was somehow both feebly thin and impossible to get through. Lost in translation as they said. He made his way to the shipyard to think. It was the place he went to ground himself. He hadn’t expected to see Simon there. Standing at the dock’s edge looking out over the wreckage in the slow rain that always seemed prevalent this time of year. But there he was, looking out over the water like it somehow held the answers, and Markus could understand why. In an ironic sense, things had seemed easier then, when they hadn’t thought they were going to make it out. Carl had said things about that on many occasions, when he got fed up with his own condition. They varied from profound to concerning depending on how sober he was; but Markus’s favorite had always been that life was the most beautiful when you were under the impression that it would end before you got to live it. Markus supposed that was true. His moment of reprieve was broken by Simon himself. “If you have something to say please say it, your just standing there is creepy.” He didn’t look away from the water as he spoke, and Markus couldn’t blame him.

“I want to apologize if you’ll let me.” He replied, “I didn’t notice that I had lost you along the way Simon. I always told myself that after the next thing I would be done, each new thing that came up was meant to be the last. I didn't realize what I was doing to you and I’m sorry. I know it’s probably to little too late, and I can’t promise that this but of legislation will be the last, but I promise to let Josh handle more of it from here on out. I don’t want to lose you again.” Simon did look at him eventually, no doubt searching to see if these promises would be empty too, “That will have to be enough then won’t it. Just talk to me this time Markus, tell me what you are thinking. I can’t read your mind despite my best efforts.” He took a few steps to close to the distance, “Just don’t forget me this time.” Markus rested his forehead against Simon’s “Never again.” He promised.

(Prompt from this list)

#Canonverse 'short'#Simarkus #dbh simon #dbh markus #dbh fic #dbh #160 follower ask event!#ask panda #panda has all the answers!

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misstrashchan · 3 years

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So just as a heads up, this is a continuation of this post about which of Smirke's 14 Fears from the Magnus Archives team RWBY+Pyrrha would be aligned with and @im-the-king-of-the-ocean asking my thoughts on Winter, Ozpin and Oscar (sorry it took so long to get back to this! I've had it sitting in my drafts for a while)

Winter: The Slaughter

Winter as an Avatar of the Slaughter is something I hadn't thought of but it actually fits insanely well. The Slaughter does often bring up the question of whether anger and violence is just senseless and mindless, or following orders followed by rationalisation; or if we're entirely conscious of the choices we're making, and which is worse, which is something that Winter's arc has been dealing with A LOT. In how she follows Ironwood's orders and has to rationalise his actions to justify her own and her "choices", like how she explains to Weiss how she accepts her role as the Winter Maiden being her destiny, though it was something Ironwood groomed her into and how she tries to explain to Penny why they have to internalise however they might feel about abandoning Mantle and trust Ironwood.

There's the element of anger which you bring up, and Winter's relationship with anger is interesting to me to think about, because she seems very much afraid in indulging that emotion, or any emotion, and because of the military industrial complex and her abusive controlling upbringing, leads to a lot of emotional suppression and refusal to think on those feelings or deal with them in any healthy way. Which of course leads to everything boiling over, and there's this. Rage, an passionate fury that's boiling inside her. But I wouldn't say it's something she thinks she needs or enjoys right now, quite the opposite. (the idea of being afraid of being hurt, of needing to have control of her situation and to throw back her hurt of the world fits more with Cinder than Winter in my mind, and I think Melanie's relationship with anger and needing it reminds me a lot more of Yang. It justified her need for it and fed into it, and Melanie liked that, she wanted it, but for Winter her anger is something she's ashamed of, something to be locked away)

But I actually do think with where her arc is headed that thinks she will come to indulge in that feeling more. The one time we see her have an angry outburst expressing her true feelings is at Jaques at his dinner party, and she scolds and shames herself for allowing herself to get angry, that it was childish and immature. To which Penny disagrees, saying she thought she was just speaking from the heart. But Winter believes that to precisely be the problem. She cannot allow herself to think, or feel just for herself, because that terrifies her. So she only allows herself to follow orders. Again, similar to a lot of the Slaughter statement givers who were soldiers in wars of some kind and become numb to the atrocities they are made to commit, the sensless violence of it all, but her choice to accept her lack of agency and self worth still makes her complicit and is still a conscious decision on her part. This sort of meandered and I'm not sure if it made any sense but yes, I hadn't thought of it but the Slaughter actually fits Winter really well for a lot of reasons. And I think we will see her Go Feral in the near future, the thing she's most afraid of, showing how she really feels, and oh boi all that confusion, emotional repression, the lingering bitterness and jealousy towards Penny being the Winter Maiden, and projected feelings of thinking of leaving or betraying Ironwood she's been having and her conflicted feelings pushed onto Weiss, who betrayed and left first, just a whole over boiling pot that's a mess of emotions manifesting as Big Feral Winter Feelings.

Ozpin:

The Eye, Ceaseless Watcher, Beholding/The Vast, the Falling Titan, Awful Deep

Ohohohoho Ozpin. I can't tell you how many times I've listened to TMA 151 imagining Ozpin as Simon Fairchild or vice versa. Simon's VA was told that his character had to give off the impression that he might offer you a plate of cookies or fling you off a cliff and when I heard that my mind immediately jumped to Ozpin back in v1. And Ozpin's VA said that if he didn't have the weight of the world on his shoulders, he'd be a lot more chaotic and fun. And that's the thing with Ozpin though, is that he wants to be Simon Fairchild, so so badly. I think he wants people to see him as that kind of person too. But in reality, he's stuck being Jonathan Sims. (The Ceaseless Watcher's/God of Light's Special Little Boy assdkjhkk) Oz is 100% an Eye Avatar. Fair warning, like with Ruby and the End, I have a lot of Big Feelings with this one.

I see where you're coming from, but the thing with being an Avatar of the Vast is being so overwhelmed by the expanse and eternity of everything that you just accept your own insignificance as well as everyone else's, hence why they rarely form attachments or work with others. It's a very nihilistic perspective that it's Avatars tend to be very hedonistic as a result, we're all insignificant, nothing matters, let's just do whatever we want and try to have a good time, who cares what happens. And I do think Oz is Vast aligned, since he encourages the people around him, and tries himself, to enjoy the little things and have fun when he can, since he knows Salem is unstoppable and everything could go to shit at any given moment. And yknow. Him enjoying flinging students off of cliffs during initiation a bit too much.

But Ozpin cares so much about humanity. He desperately wants to believe, and tries to, in humanity, and tries for them. He's been fighting so hard for so long, and believes humanity is worth fighting for (even if he has trouble actually having faith and believing in them). Everything matters to him. He agonises over every choice he makes and impact that has, takes on so much responsibility on himself, is so guilt ridden that he admits to making "more mistakes than any man, woman or child on this planet" that he practically paralyses himself with indecision and guilt. He’s also someone who has been shown to be paranoid, (his reluctance to fully trust the people around him out of constant wariness that he may be betrayed) and afraid of being perceived for who he truly is and having his secrets exposed, which are all very Eye related fears. Ozpin’s very much in this position in which he is the one who knows everything, who passively watches and waits and knows, from up high in his tower. “Oh please, your god is nothing! The Eye, Beholding, Ceaseless Watcher, whatever you call it, that’s all it does, it watches and knows, sitting bulbous and comfortable in the ignorance of infinite knowledge.” (TMA 89) In the Lost Fable, he believed he needed to be the one to know everything (think to how he only trusted himself to hold onto the relic of knowledge, believing it to be “his burden to bear” and was desperate to take it back from Ruby) and as shown in his past lives, sought after Jinn’s knowledge in the belief that knowledge would help him in his cause, only for the ultimatum of the answer in “Salem can’t be killed” to break him and make him lose all hope of doing anything more than maintaining a perpetual stalemate. In the words of his speech in vol1, in which is a very good example of Ozpin desperately needing to practice what he preaches;

“I'll...keep this brief. You have travelled here today in search of knowledge--to hone your craft and acquire new skills. And when you have finished, you plan to dedicate your life to the protection of the people. But I look amongst you, and all I see is wasted energy, in need of purpose – direction. You assume knowledge will free you of this, but your time at this school will prove that knowledge can only carry you so far. It is up to you to take the first step” (RWBY 1x03)

There’s also like. A lot of Eye statements, particularly those relating to Jonathan, that relate heavily to Ozpin and his character, including this one:

“And at last, the Archivist looks up. At last, he looks into the eye that sees all, and knows all, and clutches at the secret terrors of your heart. The Ceaseless Watcher of all that is, and all that was; the voracious, infinite hunger that tears at his soul, invoking him to discover, to observe, to experience all, and everything, and forever. It stares into him, and it stares out of him, and he is falling into the devouring eternity of its pupil. He wants to cry out in horror, but he cannot.

He. Is. Whole.

And still he does not wake. Wandering his slim collection of gifted nightmares, passing the grey and lifeless remains of severed dreams he can no longer watch, he waits- but not for long- before they can all begin again”

Like if that doesn’t describe Oz’s endless reincarnation and merging, becoming “whole”, and living all these lives is discovering, observing and “experiencing all and forever” then I don’t know what does. And then there’s the last statement we had before the s5 break, also an Eye one, revolving around the “Minister” which also gives off major Oz vibes:

God, the children. They won’t stop looking, won’t stop following him with their piteous, desperate gaze that speaks so loudly his knees feel like they will buckle. ‘Help us.’He will. Of course he will. He wants to. He hasn’t lied to them, he really hasn’t. He used to be one of them, he remembers what it can be like. He is there to speak for them. And if necessary, he will join them again. The minister grips his black leather briefcase closely to his chest, bile rising in his throat at the sudden jolt of fear that races through his veins. Where did that come from? Is he afraid of it, returning, of that sharp stab of hunger, the shivering of a cold you can’t escape? Or is he afraid that should it come to that, they will see him as a deceiver?”

“On his side of the arena the shouts should be sharper, more angry, but their tone and pitch are such as to merge seamlessly with the others. There are no golden stakes on this side pinning down his would-be comrades. But the minister must be careful not to look too closely, or else he might see how many of his allies are fused to their own chairs, on which they have sat comfortable for so long"

"His eyes drift away, through the walls to the crowd outside. Their baying cries for justice cannot be heard in here. If any whisper should make it through, it is utterly destroyed in the deafening shouting that surrounds him. But he cannot forget their eyes, watching him, piercing him with their wounded humanity.”

Another thing is that one of Ozpin’s allusions aside from the Wizard of Oz is Odin, and Raven and Qrow are meant to be his Huginn and Muninn, two Ravens that act as his “eyes” spying and gathering information for him. If you look at Raven and Qrow’s emblem, they have a left and right bird’s eye respectively, with Oz’s gear emblem inside the eye. In v4, Salem, upon hearing that Tyrian poisoned Qrow, says “the last eye is blinded” as in,the belief that with Raven having left Oz and Qrow now dying, Oz would have no more eyes to “see” with. You also have Jonah Magnus, whose corpse is missing his eyes, but is able to watch through the eyes of the Archive employees. That and the whole body hopping host thing is a little similar in concept (and Peter Lukas mentions near the end of s4 that if Elias died, Jonah would have chosen Jon as his new host which is just. Terrifying). There's a lot of other little things too, like Oz in the first three volumes is usually shown watching events like the iniitiation, the fight at the docks, and the vytal festival through his cameras in his office, a passive observer rather than someone who is actively involved. And Yang at the end of v6, when Oscar tells them about Oz saving him, says "so he's just been watching is that whole time?" The underlying tone suggesting that he could've come back at any tike but chose to watch them instead, through Oscar, and everyone looking at him like that's pretty weird or creepy (except Ruby tho, because she's Ruby)

I feel like I could go on, but this is probably waaaaay too long, so, in summary, Oz serves the Eye, is basically a perfect candidate for the Archivist, and is also Vast aligned, and in different circumstances would have totally been a great Vast Avatar.

Oscar: The Spider, the Web, Mother of Puppets

Oscar. Was. HARD.

This lil shit is part of the reason it took so long to make this post. Because see, with other characters the most obvious indicators would be their semblances (which are often manifestations of coping mechanisms for their personal fears or trauma) or songs (which delve deeper into their characters), or have very specific fears that I can focus in on as to how that factors into their arc. But Oscar? He doesn't have a semblance. His whole THING is that he's scared. All the time. His song is called Fear for Pete's sake. Now, he is Oz's reincarnation, and Oscar does also share a fair few things in common with the Archivist and his character arc, (Elias's plan and the whole plot of the first four seasons was that he was trying to align Jon by having him touched by ALL the fears, aka, to fill Jon with fear of everything, so that he became a walking living record of fear) he persistently calls out people's BS and takes issue with people withholding information, also similar to Yang (who I firmly believe is Eye aligned). So like. Eye, right? But that just... doesn't properly fit Oscar. He's not Ozpin. The Stranger, then, becoming a stranger to yourself, perhaps? That is something Oscar's afraid of, right?

"Everything changes when you see a stranger, feel proud or betrayed" (Fear)

But Oscar is growing more confident in his own identity and figuring out who he is. He’s not becoming Oz, he's becoming his own person. And even if he was becoming Oz, Oz is hardly a Stranger to Oscar. The merge, from how it's described in the show, seems more similar to how the Distortion functioned, except Oscar and Oz don't fit into most of the Distortion's themes.

I was sort of uncertain, and I wanted to wait and see till I was more certain of where Oscar's arc was headed this volume, since he's being pushed to his limits and wanted to see how he acted and what choices he made. At the start, because of how he was regretting all the choices he'd made previously, and was telling Oz how badly he didn't want the merge to happen, I was speculating about the possibility of him being manipulated by Salem and Grimm!Oscar happening, which might fall him into the Corruption, but no.

Oscar is the Web.

It fits with his fear of being controlled, of his will not being his own, and like Jonathan, who was marked and scared for life by his encounter with the Web as a child, it is his greatest fear. Only, where Jon was so afraid of the Web he sought the Eye as his refuge, believing it would keep him safe, Oscar realises that can be used to his advantage. (Which actually makes him more like Anabella Cane, which is. Hilarious) He's trying to do what Salem does, focus in on people's weaknesses and fears and dig at them, manipulate and push them, divide them, only like, steering them into the opposite direction than Salem. He's trying to use the fact that people see him as Oz to his advantage and trying to manipulate their impression of him. He's just got this very sneaky, cunning and pragmatic streak in him that people overlook because he's also incredibly kind and just. Good. But those qualities very much scream "Web" to me the more I've dwelled on it.

#rwby #winter schnee #ozpin #oscar pine #tma #smirke's 14 #the entities #the magnus archives #tma spoilers #the web #the slaughter #the vast #the Eye

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xhxhxhx · 3 years

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Alan Allport’s Britain at Bay (Knopf, 2020) is great on all the ways the United Kingdom was an only imperfectly free country at the beginning of the Second World War.

On the Civil Authorities (Special Powers) Act:

Police power in Northern Ireland was very different in character from elsewhere in the UK, owing to the Civil Authorities (Special Powers) Act, or SPA. The SPA was originally passed in the emergency conditions of 1922 at the end of the Irish War of Independence. Its powers had only been supposed to last one year, but it was found to be so useful that it was annually renewed by Stormont up to 1933, and made permanent thereafter.

Using the authority granted to it by the SPA, Northern Ireland’s government could impose curfews, prohibit public gatherings and protest marches, ban newspapers, arrest members of the public wearing uniforms or bearing items associated with proscribed organisations, search for and seize contraband goods, indefinitely detain those suspected of ‘subversive activity’ or exclude them from entering Northern Ireland, punish anyone making a report ‘intended or likely to cause disaffection to His Majesty’ and, in broad terms, ‘take all such steps and issue all such orders as may be necessary for preserving the peace and maintaining order’. In December 1938 the SPA was used to introduce internment without trial for suspected IRA men. Some of these detainees were taken to a prison hulk called the Al Rawdah, moored off Killyleagh, into which they were packed in bronchitic squalor for five months. The SPA granted Craigavon’s executive virtually unlimited domestic powers of control and surveillance, which were directed specifically at an ethno-religious minority regarded as a parasitical and disloyal enemy within. The SPA formed, in the words of a National Council for Civil Liberties (NCCL) report in 1936, ‘the basis for a legal dictatorship’. W. J. Stewart, a progressive Unionist critical of the UUP, described Northern Ireland’s government in the 1930s as ‘more completely in control of the six counties than either Hitler or Mussolini in their own countries’.

[...]

The police responded to the [IRA’s 1939] bombing campaign in different ways, some constabularies taking great pains to distinguish IRA terrorists from the Irish community at large, some less so. Newspaper stories from the Spanish Civil War had been full of reports about seditious ‘Fifth Columnists’, and the possibility that Irish migrants might be providing sanctuaries for IRA men did not seem completely fantastical. In London the Metropolitan Police asked hotel and boarding-house staff to provide details about any new visitors with Irish addresses or accents. The public was encouraged to report sightings of Irishmen ‘idling’ during daylight hours on the streets of the capital. S-Plan attacks provoked panicky and legally dubious police work. After the Piccadilly bombing constables ‘dashed through the crowd haphazardly’, as one witness later put it, rounding up dozens of men with Irish brogues. The whole operation was conducted with such a lack of basic procedure that all of the detained men had to be released later in the day for want of evidence – including a couple of suspects who, it turned out later, really had been involved in planting the bomb.

On the Prevention of Violence (Temporary Provisions) Act:

Earlier in 1939, the S-Plan terrorist campaign had provoked a similar kind of test, on a smaller scale, of how far the British were willing to compromise their traditional civil liberties in the name of public safety. In July 1939 the home secretary had introduced the Prevention of Violence (Temporary Provisions) Act to the Commons, a remarkable piece of legislation rushed through Parliament at breakneck speed, largely forgotten in the subsequent hubbub of war but something that ought to be better remembered than it is. The Prevention of Violence Act granted the home secretary the authority to prohibit anyone who had been resident in Great Britain for less than twenty years from entering or re-entering the country if it was believed that they were ‘concerned in the preparation or instigation […] of acts of violence designed to influence public opinion or Government policy with respect to Irish affairs’. He could expel such persons from the United Kingdom and detain them for up to five days prior to that expulsion. The Act allowed, for the first time in history, a political appointee to imprison, deport and exile British subjects without reference to the courts. It also empowered the police, under certain circumstances, to conduct searches and seizures of suspects’ property without obtaining a judicial warrant first. British subjects – as all Irishmen and -women still legally were in 1939, even those living in the Free State – had never been subject to such peacetime restrictions before.

Hoare insisted to Parliament that the new Act was a ‘temporary measure to meet a passing emergency’ which would remain on the statute books for no longer than two years. Some MPs were not convinced. They saw it as an attack on Britain’s culture of democracy. ‘We are proud that this is a free country,’ argued William Wedgwood Benn (father of Tony and grandfather of Hilary). ‘Our people hold their heads a little higher because they believe they enjoy a measure of freedom […] I do not think public opinion will be assisted by giving the Home Secretary power to turn us all into ticket-of-leave men, if he so wishes.’ In return, supporters of the Act regarded these objections as a sop to terrorists. ‘What about King’s Cross?’ demanded Sir Joseph Nall, Tory MP for Manchester Hulme. ‘What about the people who are being maimed and killed?’ It was much better, he argued, ‘to deport a dozen innocent persons than to allow one innocent person to be killed’. The Prevention of Violence Act passed into law.

Even before the Second World War broke out, then, fears of terrorism had already caused the government drastically to revise traditional assumptions about the freedoms of the individual British citizen. The Prevention of Violence Act was a first step in the creeping Hibernicisation of British law during the twentieth century, a process in which restrictions on civil liberty originally applied in ‘troubled’ Ireland were progressively transferred to the rest of the United Kingdom as well. In time, an indefinite state of emergency would become the new normal.

On the Emergency Powers (Defence) Act and Treachery Act:

All of this [invasion scare] seemed to suggest that the democracy itself could not be trusted in a crisis. Only by abandoning the ‘present rather easy-going methods’ of national life and adopting a set of restrictions ‘which would approach the totalitarian’ could Britain survive a Nazi onslaught, the Cabinet was warned by Chamberlain on 18 May. The legal apparatus for such a siege dictatorship was established four days later, when a new Emergency Powers (Defence) Act was passed by the Commons in its entirety in just two hours. This was an extension of the existing emergency legislation passed at the outbreak of war which now gave the government almost unlimited authority to regulate people, property and capital without the need for parliamentary scrutiny. As the new minister for labour later observed, it made him ‘a kind of Führer with powers to order anybody anywhere’. A Treachery Act passed the same day made it a capital offence to assist the enemy’s military operations or to hamper Britain’s own.

As the Times put it, the Emergency Powers Act ‘comes near to suspending the very essence of the Constitution as it has been built up in a thousand years. Our ancient liberties are placed in pawn for victory.’ A slew of regulations soon circumscribed even the most quotidian features of the British citizen’s life. It was unlawful to ‘endeavour to influence […] public opinion in a manner likely to be prejudicial’ to the war effort, to take part in a strike, to withhold information about an invention or patent if the state demanded it, to hold an unauthorised procession, to put out flags, to operate a car radio or to put icing on a cake (wickedly wasteful of sugar). Chamberlain hoped that public opinion would back these restrictions; but if not, recalcitrant non-cooperators could be drafted into a compulsory labour corps under prison discipline.

The creation in mid-May 1940 of the Local Defence Volunteers (LDV), later renamed the Home Guard, ought to be seen in this context of government nervousness. Private citizens had responded to news of the German parachute landings in the Netherlands and Belgium by announcing the formation of ad hoc militia companies to defend their homeland. Whitehall felt it had to act quickly to control the process. One quarter of a million men aged between seventeen and sixty-five registered to join the new auxiliary force within the first week of its announcement, and by July 1940 its nominal strength stood at 1.5 million.

On Regulations 39BA and 18B:

Sir John Simon’s 1938 prophecy that rearmament and war would turn Britain into ‘a different kind of nation’ seemed to have come true. Moreover, it had happened with a remarkable lack of discussion or opposition. ‘A united nation feels no hesitation or misgiving’ about the abandonment of its personal freedoms, insisted the Times when the Emergency Powers Act was rushed through Parliament: ‘the temporary surrender [of liberties] is made with a glad heart and a confident spirit.’ That was not altogether true. There would be resistance to some of the more controversial powers the government had acquired for itself. That said, the assault on other values, particularly the presumption of innocence in law and the protection of minorities, inspired rather less sympathy.

The very British right to grumble out loud produced an early skirmish in this conflict over liberties. Regulation 39BA, introduced in June 1940, made it a criminal offence, punishable by up to a month in prison, to circulate ‘any report or statement relating to matters connected with the war which is likely to cause alarm and despondency’. It was announced at the same moment the Ministry of Information launched a ‘Silent Column’ campaign that condemned spreading rumours and gossiping about the war effort. The government was not shy about using its new power. By late July there had been over seventy prosecutions. A tradesman in Yeovil was jailed for thirty days for saying ‘Hitler will be here in a month’. A Bristol septuagenarian earned himself a week in prison for claiming that the Swastika would soon fly over Parliament.

As the summer wore on, however, a press backlash caused the government to retreat. Churchill admitted to the Commons on 23 July that, however ‘well-meant’ it had been, Regulation 39BA had had the unfortunate effect of criminalising ‘silly vapourings which are best dealt with on the spur of the moment by verbal responses’. The Silent Column was put into what he called ‘innocuous desuetude’, and the Home Secretary was asked to review all ‘alarm and despondency’ convictions. To what extent the Order’s continued existence had a chilling effect on free expression is unknowable. (‘Best to pass no opinion these days,’ as one Briton was reported saying by Home Intelligence. ‘You might get hung.’) Could anyone be certain that that innocuous pollster or Mass Observer asking them questions about the war was not a government provocateur?

A more ominous issue came up in August, when the government sought to create special regulations to deal with a crisis in which heavy bombing or invasion had halted normal legal procedures in some parts of the country. It proposed the creation of regional ‘War Zone courts’, presided over by experienced judges and appointed by the lord chancellor. Although these would not be military tribunals or courts-martial, they would nonetheless have the power to impose death sentences without appeal. ‘If we are not shot by the Germans we are evidently going to be shot by our own people,’ one Briton commented on hearing the news. The proposal was attacked in the Commons as far too vague, considering its life-and-death stakes. The Home Secretary’s reassurance that such courts would only operate with the greatest restraint was condemned as feeble by the barrister and Liberal MP Frank Kingsley Griffith: ‘it is all very well for anybody to come before this House and say, “I have a Bill which entitles me to cut off your head, but I can assure you that I am only going to cut your toe nails.” ’ In the end, the government retreated and promised that all War Court sentences would be subject to appeal. They were, in the end, never used anyway.

The Home Office received enough popular pushback against both Regulation 39BA and the War Zone courts for it to moderate its plans on the grounds of civil liberty. There was much less public concern provoked by the mass incarceration without trial of British citizens, which began on the morning of 23 May with the arrest of Sir Oswald Mosley, leader of the British Union of Fascists (BUF). Under Defence Regulation 18B, the Home Secretary could detain indefinitely anyone of ‘hostile origin or associations’ or who had recently committed ‘acts prejudicial to the public safety’. Anyone so interned had a right of appeal to an advisory committee, but they were not allowed to know who had recommended their arrest, or why.

Regulation 18B had existed since the outbreak of war but was only now applied with any seriousness. By July 1940 over 700 BUF members and fellow-travellers of the far right had been swept up, most to Brixton Prison (only a single Communist Party member, a Yorkshire shop steward accused of sabotaging workplace production, joined them).

Not great!

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noodlecupcakeswritings · 4 years

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Now or Never - Final message & remaining notes (A NeganxRoxy fic)

Hey guys, so I think it’s pretty clear I won’t be finishing my Negan/Roxy series anymore. And I feel awful for doing so as I hate abandoning fics. However, there’s two key factors that have solidified this decision. The first one being, I majorly lost interest in The Walking Dead around the time they killed off Carl and then Rick. The writing had been going downhill since season 5 (in my opinion) but with the mess that was seasons seven and eight (especially eight) I just couldn’t watch the show anymore. Good job Scott Gimple you killed the show the moment you killed Carl off. Naturally, when I’m not consuming the fandoms media anymore, my interest is going to dwindle.

The second major factor was I lost my face claim for Roxy around February this year, I didn’t want Roxy’s face claim to be someone that is a domestic abuser and that’s all I’m going to say on that matter (not looking for a debate). I tried to look for another face claim, but after having the same face claim since I first got into the show around 2012, it’s really hard for me to picture Roxy as anyone else. I enjoyed my time in The Walking Dead/Negan fandom; I met some wonderful people and will cherish those memories.

I’m quite sad to see it end really, I’ve been writing Walking Dead fics since 2012 when Roxy was originally shipped with Glenn and then Daryl and then The Governor and finally Negan was her perfect match. (She gets around okay). So instead of leaving you guys guessing and wondering for however long, I typed up the notes I had in my Negan notebook so you guys would know what direction the fic was going and how it was going to end between Negan and Roxy. I’ve done my best to write them out in chronological order, so hopefully they all make sense.

1. After Daryl drove the truck into The Sanctuary and let all the walkers in, Roxy, Negan and a small group of others go in hand to hand with the horde, using the stairs as a way to funnel and control the flow of walkers to take them out easier.

2. Negan and The Saviours go to Alexandria for their revenge, mostly destroying the community (as seen in the show). However, Carl lives and is not bitten. All of team family lives.

3. All Out War storyline begins (mostly following the comics, not the show).

4. Roxy, Simon and a small handful of Saviours are sent out to scout Hilltop so that Negan can make attack preparations. However, before leaving Roxy debates whether or not to tell Negan that she loves him, she almost says it, but Simon ruins the moment.

5. Out on the scouting trip Roxy, Simon and the saviours are ambushed by Rosita and a group of survivors from the rebelling communities. Simon tries to get Roxy to run but is shot and killed by Rosita before Roxy has the chance to escape. Roxy is taken as a hostage back to Hilltop.

6. At Hilltop Rick and co. debate what to do with Roxy. Daryl wants to kill her as she was the one who tortured him when he was a prisoner at The Sanctuary. Rick decides to hold a vote. The majority vote to kill Roxy. But before they have the chance Roxy lies and tells them she’s pregnant to save herself or at least buy herself time.

7. Maggie is determined to see through Roxy’s lie and makes her take a pregnancy test. To Roxy’s and everyone else’s surprise, she actually is pregnant. So now most of those who voted to have her killed change their vote, and Roxy is spared but put under house arrest. Upon finding out they won’t kill her because of the baby, Roxy laughs in Ricks face and says the line, “your so fucked when he finds out.”

8. Meanwhile back at The Sanctuary, Negan has a gut feeling something’s wrong and the radio silence isn’t helping. Nor are the remaining wives who are unhappy with their ‘husband’ neglecting them and dwindling supplies. Sabrina in particular gets the guts to say, “being your wife is a fucking curse. Good thing Amber and Sherry had sense to get out whilst they could”. This really pisses Negan off, responding with, “you are only insurance! Insurance that if I lose Roxy, then I’m not alone”.

9. Back at Hilltop Rick has taken the ambushed Saviours supplies, which includes a radio, giving him a direct line of contact with Negan. Roxy hears about this and devises a plan to try to get it to warn Negan. Rosita takes over Tara’s guard duty and goes to taunt Roxy about Simons death which results in a fistfight. The fight is broken up by Michonne, Arron and Jesus.

10. Negan is contacted by Rick over the radio. Rick tells Negan that they have Roxy and he needs to stand down for her to remain unharmed before also breaking the baby news to him. Negan is enraged and refuses to back down, now preparing for the final battle.

11. Roxy attempts to leave the house in the middle of the night and get hold of the radio so she can warn Negan of Hilltops preparations. She’s caught red-handed by Rick, who escorts her back to the house she’s being held at. Roxy taunts Rick further saying, “As long as I’m still breathing, there is nothing you can do to stop me from getting to him.”

12. Negan and The Saviours show up to Hilltop and the final battle ensues, Rick and Negan fight each other with Negan thinking he has the upper hand before Rick slices his throat. Rick has Negan saved by the Hilltops doctors and eventually thrown in a cell. Rick won’t kill him because that would make him just as bad as Negan, and he also wants Negan to see the better world that Rick is going to build with everyone living in harmony.

13. Roxy not wanting to risk the pregnancy does not involve herself much in the fight. And after talks with Carl she sees that what Rick envisions isn’t so bad after all, its something she’s been seeking herself since the start of the apocalypse. A home where everyone can live peacefully and fight the real threat, the undead. A place she can raise her and Negans child.

14. Negan and Roxy are allowed monthly visits, supervised by a member of team family. Negan finding out he’s going to have a son and eventually being able to feel the baby kick. It’s these moments that keep him from feeling suicidal.

15. Nine months pass and Roxy’s due date is nearing. During this visit to Negan’s cell, Rick is the one to supervise. Roxy’s water ends up breaking and Negan panics, unable to do anything to help her with the prison bars in the way. He begs Rick to help her, whilst Roxy begs Rick to let Negan out of his cell so he can see his son being born. Rick caves in and allows Negan this one moment of freedom. Rick doesn’t take any chances though and makes Negan carry Roxy to the med bay at gun point so he doesn’t escape. Roxy gives birth to baby Samuel.

16. Roxy struggles to be a mostly single parent whilst Negan struggles not to be there for his son to bond and help out. Samuel becomes very clingy to Roxy, understandably.

17. Carl regularly visits Negan for chats, finding it easier to talk to Negan about things than Rick.

18. Now that Roxy isn’t seen as a threat, she’s no longer under house arrest and has even made some friends like Tara. However Maggie, Rosita, Daryl and Carol still have very obvious resentment towards her which she does her best to ignore.

19. One-night Tara stays over to give Roxy a night off from Samuel as she’s exhausted. Only Roxy sneaks down to Negans cell, having swiped the spare key and spends a few hours in Negans cell. Smut ensues.

20. Whisperers attack and whilst Roxy wants to help and fight, she can’t now that she’s a mother and essentially all that Samuel has. She knows if something were to happen to her that Samuel would just be given to someone else instead of Negan. During the attack, she hides with Samuel in the house.

21. Negan escapes during the attack and sees this as an opportunity for him, Roxy and Samuel to take off and be a family together. He finds Roxy and Samuel in the house and asks her to come with him. Roxy refuses, knowing it wouldn’t be wise to take a baby outside the walls, it’s safer for them to stay here where they have a home and supplies. Negan understands, but it still upset and leaves without them.

22. Rick and co. find that Negan have gone and instantly suspect Roxy of letting him out of his cell during the attack. Rick threatens Roxy with a gun, regardless of the fact she’s carrying Samuel. Tara and Carl vouch for Roxy’s innocence, and Roxy tells Rick to never threaten her in front of her child again. Carl is also very vocal about his distaste for Rick’s actions.

23. Negan runs into The Whisperers and is brought to Alpha who questions him about Rick and Alexandria. Negan sees this as his chance to infiltrate them and gain their trust, only to really earn his place back at Alexandria. However, he must earn his place amongst The Whisperers first and Beta is tasked with trialling Negan.

24. Back at Alexandria, hordes of walkers are being led to the gates by whisperers to try to destroy the community and get Lydia back. Roxy assigns herself to protect the children of the community and eventually takes over Michonne’s shift in taking out walkers so she can rest.

25. Beta trials Negan with hunting animals, skinning walkers and getting them to follow and form a small horde. Negan isn’t so good with the skinning of walkers or getting them to follow him as he’s ‘too loud and egotistical’. Beta leaves him with only a knife to fend off a small group of walkers.

26. Roxy reassures Lydia that she won’t let anything happen to her, nor will she let The Whisperers take her back, the two form a friendship. Lydia is later attacked by three members of Alexandria who still see her as an enemy. Roxy intervenes and injures two of them, as other members of the community show up. Carl and Daryl vouch that Roxy was only trying to protect Lydia, much to Roxy’s surprise.

27. Negan returns alive and unharmed to the Whisperers, much to Betas surprise and disdain. Negan kneels and ‘pledges’ allegiance to Alpha, who accepts him into the pack.

28. Alpha makes a border separating The Whisperers land from Hilltops, Alexandria’s and Oceanside. And to get her point across beheads several members of the surrounding communities, including Henry, Rosita and Ezekiel.

29. Having caught a Whisperer, Daryl locks it up in what was Negans cell and asks Roxy to help him with the interrogation as ‘she’s good at that stuff’. During the interrogation, Roxy attempts to apologize to Daryl for torturing him back at The Sanctuary, but he doesn’t accept and leaves her with the whisperer.

30. Negan gains Alphas trust and assists them on supply runs and raids until he earns his skin suit. One-night Negan gets Alpha to open up about her past as does he, telling her about Lucille and Roxy. Alpha claims Roxy to be weak for not leaving Alexandria with him. Negan beheads Alpha.

31. Two days later Negan arrives at Alexandria and presents Alpha’s head to Rick and also reunites with Roxy and Samuel, who is close to approaching his first birthday. However, the reunion is cut short by Rick demanding Negan fights alongside them against the Whisperers who are going to attack now that Alpha is dead.

32. Roxy reveals to Negan she’d been keeping his jacket and Lucille safe and that he’ll be needing it to fight the rest of the Whisperers. Roxy then decides she’ll fight alongside him despite his protests.

33. Roxy and Negan fight off a horde with a small group before Beta emerges from the woods, charging at Negan to avenge Alphas death. Roxy joins the fight before Beta sets his sights on her, throwing her to the ground and advancing on her. Negan beats Beta with Lucille and severely injures him, but breaks Lucille in the process.

34. Realizing they are outnumbered by walkers, the group retreats and Negan buries Lucille’s remains, finally mourning her loss. Roxy stays behind with him, but he argues with her about how reckless her behaviour was, and he wasn’t going to lose her too. The two eventually return to Alexandria.

35. Beta and the remaining Whisperers gather the horde and attack Alexandria in a final showdown. Parts of the horde are dispatched whilst other parts are led away. Negan finally kills Beta, and the war is soon over.

36. Rick gives Negan, Roxy and Samuel supplies, weapons and a vehicle, indicating he wants them to leave now they’ve done their part. He also gives them a map that has an outpost marked within the safe zone where they will live.

37. At the outpost, the three settle in and they celebrate Samuels’ first birthday. Negan can finally really bond with his son. Roxy finds Negan asleep on the couch with Samuel asleep on his chest and smiles, feeling content.

Taglist: @sweetfictionalworld, @cltex84, @sarahlee8793, @negans-network, @collette04, @themagikat409, @ninavantastisch, @emoryhemsworth, @jdmslut-red

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elenajohansenreads · 3 years

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Books I Read in 2021

#83 - Shadowmarch, by Tad Williams

Mount TBR: 69/100

Beat the Backlist Bingo: Cover features your favorite color prominently

Rating: 1/5 stars

Well, that was a slog.

So I have a history with this piece of intellectual property. I was introduced to Williams as an author in college (1998) because several of the friends I made my first year were big fantasy nerds--no surprise there--and I was perfectly ready to move on from my high-school-era love of less sophisticated fantasy authors. I borrowed The Dragonbone Chair from one of those friends and off I went.

So in 2001 when news about Williams writing an online serial went around, and I saw the $15 price tag...well, I was a perpetually almost-broke college student still, and sure I spent money on books, but that was a high gateway, because a) I didn't own my own computer yet, I was borrowing friends' or using the computer lab to write papers and such; and b) sure, a chunky fantasy novel might be $7 or $8 in paperback, but it was portable, easy to reread whenever, and nobody had tablets or smartphones or e-readers yet, so an online serial publication was definitely not portable. Even fifteen dollars seemed like too much for the inconvenience of a book I could only read sitting at a computer, and couldn't read all of at once.

I was genuinely angry about this shift away from the paradigm, and much like Williams vowing this serial was online only and would never be published traditionally (which I distinctly remember but don't actually have a source for) I too vowed that I would never read it.

I held out much longer than he did, if my memory of that claim is even true. But I'm wishing now that I hadn't bothered.

This is bad. Not even close to the level of quality I expect from Williams, based on the earlier Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn series, as well as War of the Flowers--which was weird but I enjoyed it--and the Otherland series, which was even weirder and not always good, but yeah, I still enjoyed that too, for the most part.

Who am I supposed to care about in this book? I'm no stranger to multiple protagonists, but there are simply too many here, meaning none of them get the development time they would need to be interesting. I'm trying to wean myself from the complaint that protagonists need to be "likable," because a character can be a jerk and still be interesting, but few of these protagonists are particularly likable either!

1. Barrick is a whiny jerk who folds under pressure and abdicates responsibility to his sister, and then makes a spectacularly bad decision for no reason other than to set up some tension at the end, and his future arc. If it's because he's "mad," bad plot reason, and if it's because he's affected by the more general shadow-madness, well, I guess he could be vulnerable to it like anyone else, but that's pretty flimsy too. 2. Briony is a fairly standard "if only I weren't a woman, people would take me seriously" princess who doesn't fold as much under pressure but is dealt a really raw deal. I'll give her credit, she does legitimately try her best to rule her lands, but she's also kind of a whiny jerk like her brother, too. 3. Quinnitan is...pointless. Sure, I see how the end of her arc in this book echoes those of the Eddon twins, but there is no direct connection between her plot and anyone else's. And I mean that literally, if there's anything that ties her story to any other single part of the book, I simply do not see it, it's buried in lore or foreshadowing that was lost on me amid the sheer weight of nearly 800 pages of plodding narrative. I read all of her scenes constantly wondering why I should care, and the fact that her arc is a very basic harem plot, "I don't want to be a token wife but really what choice do I have?" sort of thing, doesn't help, because on its own it's incredibly unoriginal. 4. Chert is marginally likable, because he's arguably got the most defined personality and most personal growth in the book, as a person of a "little" race who is distinctly not human--I get a mix of gnome and dwarf, with a faint whiff of Podling from The Dark Crystal--and who deals with an unexpected foundling by taking him into his family and trying to make it work, even when that foundling is really a big blank space in the story who still manages to get into trouble. 5. Captain Vansen gets points from me for being the guardsman deep in unrequited love, which is a trope I would absolutely eat up with a spoon. The problem is, the object of that love is a protagonist I don't care for (Briony,) leading me to question what the eff he's thinking that he can even admire her from a distance, let alone be in infatuation/love. And his plot arc is mostly "something goes wrong that's not really has fault but everyone blames him anyway." Which got dull.

Chert and Vansen are most of the reason this book gets a second star*, honestly. Chert's scenes with the Rooftoppers are generally pretty excellent, even if they're mostly tied to a plot arc that I don't care for.

The other thing that's getting me about this is that it feels like a deliberately grim-dark retread of Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn. You've got a castle that's the seat of current government but used to belong to the enemy--the enemy that no one is sure even exists anymore, that lives in a land far enough away to feel distant but also somehow close enough to be threatening, once people believe in them again. That castle is perched upon magically important ruins/caverns, and that enemy has forms of magic/communication that affect humans and can cause or appear symptomatic of madness. There's a race of small likable people who aren't quite dwarves or any other "standard" fantasy race, but are still somehow cute/appealing. There's a crippled prince who's not really well-liked. One of the primary female protagonists is a young woman who laments the limitations of her womanhood under the patriarchal feudal system of the world.

And to someone who's never read either of these series, that list of similarities could mostly read like fairly common fantasy tropes, and I forgive anyone who reads this review and thinks that. But I've read MSaT probably ten times all the way through in the twenty-plus years since I was introduced to it, and I feel like I've just been handed the same story again, with a thick coat of gray paint slathered on it and a few details changed--and those changes are basically always for the worse. No one in this story can be said to be a direct equivalent to Simon, who gets a very clear hero's journey, but if I'm supposed to slot Barrick in as a Simon/Josua mashup (that crippled prince problem) then it takes the entire book to get Barrick out of his comfort zone and on his journey, where Simon got booted from the castle at the end of the first act of the first book.

And that gets at the underlying problem that is at least partially fueling all other problems--this book is clearly just the first act of the larger story, and yes i know! that is what first books do! but this also doesn't have a lot of forward motion on its own, and it doesn't resolve anything aside from the mystery of a single murder at that happens near the beginning. Seriously, all other plot threads get kicked down the road with the "and now they're exiles" theme that the ending has assigned to most of the protagonists. Chert doesn't suffer that fate, but the ending of his story line--also the end of the book itself--is the foundling reasserting that he doesn't know who he is, which is not new information. We've literally not known who he is the whole time, except that we do find out who his mother is, but don't find out how he was taken or why he apparently hasn't aged as much as he should have or what the Qar intended by sending him back "home." The identity of his mother is basically the least important question surrounding him.

I truly feel like I just read a 750-page prologue, and that is not a good feeling.

*Yeah, I told myself this was a two-star book, but by the time I wrote the whole review, it's not and I can't pretend I still believe that. This is a one-star book. This is so bad I don't want to go on with the series, even though it almost has to get better, now that most of our protagonists are out on their journeys. And because it could hardly get worse, right? But this already took up so much of my time (I had to take a week-long break in the middle to binge some romances, as a relief from all this grimdark toil) and even though I've managed to collect secondhand copies of the rest of the series, and they've been sitting on my shelves for a few years waiting for me to invest my energy into them...I'm giving up. Not worth it.

#booklr #book review #tad williams #shadowmarch #book photography #my photos #my reading challenges #mount tbr 2021 #beat the backlist 2021

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doomedandstoned · 3 years

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10,000 Years Take Us Into The "Gargantuan Forest"

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

Review by Billy Goate

Album Art by Francesco Bauso

Leaving the world For salvation yonder Quest for eternity To suns beyond

Gazing upon our past Out into forever To a future obscured What glory awaits?

To begin another week of awesome original content at Doomed & Stoned, we're getting you better acquainted with the Swedish juggernaut 10,000 YEARS.

Last summer, the band dropped their eponymous debut to welcome ears and in just a few short weeks 10,000 Years come roaring back with a follow-up. Y'all know I'm a sucker for a good concept album. The eight-track full-length record 'II' (2021) picks up the trail of the Albatross research vessel, which has been galavanting 'cross the nether reaches of the galaxy on a potent rocket fuel made of sludgy stoner rock and doom metal.

If that sounds epic, wait'll you get a load of what's next for our interstellar crew. It helps if you picture the following text as a Star Wars-style screen crawl, slowly working its way up the page against the backdrop of a starry night.

After narrowly escaping the confines of the strange planet and its surrounding dimension, the Albatross and its crew finally return home to Earth. The re-entry is rough and the ship crashlands in a forest. The earth that greets them is vastly different from the one that they left.

When the ship travelled back to earth through the wormhole, it created a rift in the space-time continuum which propelled them far into the future, as well as allowing the Green King and other ancient gods from the other dimension to cross over to our dimension. They have since taken control of not only the earth, but the entire solar system.

After various harrowing experiences and encounters, the truth finally dawns on the surviving members of the crew. They are indeed back on earth, but ten thousand years in the future from when they started their journey. And to make matters worse, they find evidence that the Green King has been known and worshipped by secret cults and societies on earth for millenia, since before humankind even existed.

The surviving members of the crew come to the conclusion that the only way to set things right again is to repair the Albatross and take it back through the rift again in order to close it.

Now that's a saga I'm ready to get invested in. George Lucas, eat your heart out!

The record revs to a start with "Descent," a track that can best be described as terrific panic. It had me thinking of KOOK's "Escape Velocity" from their recent second album, though that's an eight-and-a-half minute slow burn and this is a quick twenty-six second fall from the sky. I wish this little notion had a chance to develop into something longer, but regardless what a thrilling way to open an album!

With rapt attention, I'm waiting to hear what comes next. The ship seems to have crash landed deep inside a "Gargantuan Forest." As an aside, it would be a blast to smoke a bowl o' something (anything, really) with Erik Palm (guitar), Alex Risberg (bass, vox), and Espen Karlsen (drums) just to gab it up a bit about sci-fi lit and horror flicks. I mean, check out the trove of B-movie greats referenced in their preface to the new single (which Doomed & Stoned is debuting today):

In this ABSURD (1981) video, 10,000 Years enter a FOREST OF FEAR (1980) as they access THE BEYOND (1981) and enter a BLOODBATH (1971) with THE BOOGEY MAN (1980), otherwise known as the Espbeast. The Espbeast stalks and haunts the bodies and minds of the characters in this C-grade homage to the horror movies of yesteryear.

The characters FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE (1976) through insane NIGHTMARES IN A DAMAGED BRAIN (1981). If they survive the AXE (1974) they may still end up in an INFERNO (1980) and risk being EATEN ALIVE (1976). All the same risks face the viewer, so don’t watch with the lights out, don’t watch by yourself and DON’T GO IN THE WOODS ALONE (1981). Because after all, isn’t there an Espbeast in all of us?

10,000 Years have picked the ideal setting for the music video. The forests of Sweden stand tall and dark, the ground packed with snow. Screw you, Blair Witch Project -- this is where I want the next found footage flick filmed!

The song opens with a mysterious theme on solitary electric strings, surrounded by hazy reverberation. Drums and bass accent the motif as it's repeated several times over. Dazed by their graceless fall to earth, the crew wander about, checking one another for injuries, seeing if the faithful Albatross has even hope of another journey. As the shock begins to wear off, their hopeless plight reveals itself.

Screaming from the sky Blasting through the atmosphere

Come to rest On the forest floor Still alive What fresh new hell is this?

Surrounded by swamps A strange bleeding from the earth

Giant trees A dense horror taking root Same old sun Unfamiliar rays shine down

Is there something lurking about in the Gargantuan Forest? I'm sure no one wants to wait until nightfall to find out! The so-called "Espbeast" (which the band may actually have been first to name) is more than likely some strange amalgamation of guitar and creature, ripping through foes like a berserker of sound with scraps of High on Fire's "10,000 Years" echoing perversely through the treetops as it stalks and ultimately slays you. Nobody wants to be around when the Espbeast is on the prowl.

Now see, I'm letting my imagination get carried away! Then again, maybe that's what the band had planned all along -- for listeners to join in the fantastic adventures of these cosmonauts, to see through their eyes and feel through their body as they touch foot to strange soil. What will our adventurers find next?

The answer comes all too soon: "Spinosaurus!" This gruff beast charges angrily through the woods knocking things about, displacing rocks, snapping branches, royally pissed and ready to make somebody pay for the noise that snatched him away from a damned good nap. The repeated note riff, with its odd strumming pattern, does a nifty job of representing the crude movements of the Spinosaurus as it lumbers about the forest. Eric is a virtuosic mess of frantic tremeloes and wiry noodling against Espen's stampeding drums, as Alex narrates the scene with a terrifying shout:

Is this our earth? No time to dwell Dorsal sail cutting air Cretaceous ghost made flesh

Staring into Dead end eyes No place to hide Theropodic annihilation

Teeth into flesh!

What the crew is experiencing on their homeworld thus far seems foreign, almost ancient. Through some curse of Einstenian logic have we zipped through a wormhole only to return to the distant past? "The Mooseriders" are about to challenge our assumptions about what's possible on this Rock.

Thundering hooves crack the sky Dark robed wizards appear in the light Travellers in ether descending Protectors of the realm

These are the oath-bound eternals -- interdimensional templars, if you will -- who have arrived at this precise moment in time to take on the Green King. Complex rhythmic drumming with precisely stricken odd beats, is accompanied by a hyperactive bass and progressive metal riffmaking. Together, the band conjures the trot and hustle of the approaching entourage. A wilding guitar heralds a message from the great protectors:

The hour draws near The endgame is nigh Divine prophecy Even death may die

The mood now turns stately. A brave theme is introduced and developed with dashing prowess. This track would fit perfectly into a playlist with Mastodon, Ape Cave, and Zirakzigil. I found Alex's vocal approach especially appropriate for the frantic depiction of "antlers clashing with steel" in this battle to the finish. "Even death...may...DIE!"

"Angel Eyes" greet us on the B-side, and it's not a cover of the Jerry Cantrell song (though that would have been unexpectedly awesome). No, the hard-charging mood and raspy vocals are pointing to something far more apocalyptic.

Hooves of burning coal Let loose upon the world

Return of the warlord Eternal fire scorches the earth

Heavenly gaze Order through chaos

At times Alex seems exasperated, practically out of breath, as he gives these dire words his all. It's a style the 10,000 Years frontman owns as well as his counterpart, Simon Ohlsson of Vokonis, who has a comparable vocal attack. A bass-fortified guitar establishes a second theme that adds a Wagnarian touch of high drama, and this ushers in the song's curtain fall.

If 10,000 Years is to be compared with High On Fire at all, the rumbling riffstorm "March Of The Ancient Queen" surely merits it (to say nothing of their mutual love of alternative histories).

Her royal blood Once ruled these lands Generations Buried by time Dynasty of dust Rise from the sands Rise from the dead The Green King's servant

March!

March Of The Ancient Queen - Single by 10,000 Years

That last lyric is uttered with the most blood-curdling all-caps conviction that I was immediately drawn into its sentiment, miming "Maaaaarrrrrch!" with my ugliest war face on every time it came up in the song. The NWOBHM-style finish is so deftly executed that it comes across as orchestral. 10,000 Years paint with big, bold strokes here.

"Prehuman Walls" is a welcome shift down, with its chugging "Bury Me In Smoke" tempo. You sludge fiends will find moments of Zen here, with riffs that bend and twist and saw 'neath the summer sun. The crew have chanced upon a temple of sorts, though not one made with human hands. Nothing seems to make sense here at all. It's like Area X from the film Annihilation (2017), where everything is a contortion of reality. Then the "truth settles in." This alien monstrosity, we find, bears the mark of the sinister Green King. We thought we'd escaped him, only to find that he both followed us and was here millenia before.

Unholy worship Feed the Green King Eyes pried open Sanity stripped away

At last, we reach the final track in our journey: "Dark Side Of The Earth". So many revelations have been made in this second chapter, so many loose ends that need to be tied off. Naturally, a third chapter must be written. "We must go back, set it right," deliberates an exasperated Albatross crew. "We must go back, whence we came."

Dimension walls broken down The fabric ripped and torn apart Thread the needle once again A journey of ten thousand years

We must go back, set it right We must go back, through the tears

Insanity the only way The dark side of the earth

Following these words, the song develops instrumentally and the mood gets quite emotional. I found myself drawing parallels between this "bastard version of earth" and our own, wondering if we ever can go back and make it right. For us, perhaps it should be about moving forward, for there is no golden age or better time to which we can return. We make this world a heaven or hell tomorrow by the choices made today.

The album was recorded by Tomas Skogsberg at Studio Sunlight. Totally diggin the awesomely swamp landscape that Francesco Bauso of Negative Crypt Artwork created. It reminds the five-year old me of Luke's sopping wet landing on Dagobah, though guitarist Alex Risberg says the band's more inspired by Planet of the Apes than by Star Wars.

The album will be released on June 25th as a special vinyl "Green King Edition" by Interstellar Smoke Records pre-order here), a cassette tape "Forest Edition" from Ogo Rekords (pre-order here) and "Swamp Edition" from Olde Magick Records pre-order here), with the digital and compact disc formats handled by Death Valley Records (pre-order here).

10,0000 Years have in II their most accomplished album to date, with powerful moments that will stay with you long after the record's stopped spinning. Fans of High On Fire, Black Tusk, and The Sword listen up! You might just discover your next favorite band.

Give ear...

10,000 Years - Gargantuan Forest (Music Video)

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Having previously played together in the original lineup of Swedish underground heavyweights Pike, Erik Palm (Guitars) and Alex Risberg (Bass/vocals) found their way back to each other, musically, in early 2020. The creative fire reignited and stoked to a burning inferno and through a mutual love of heavy riffs and thundering stoner rock, doom, and sludge metal, 10,000 Years was born. Finding a drummer would prove to be an easy task and with Espen Karlsen the final piece lay firmly in place. The groove they fell into during the first rehearsal hasn’t stopped rumbling since.

After spending the first-half of 2020 writing and rehearsing, 10,000 Years recorded their self-titled debut EP during one weekend in June in the legendary Studio Sunlight with equally legendary producer Tomas Skogsberg. The self-titled EP was released on July 10th and immediately struck a chord with the heavy underground worldwide, and 10,000 Years garnered rave reviews and accolades.

10,000 Years by 10,000 Years

10,000 Years' musical and lyrical world revolves around the tale of the terran class III exploration vessel Albatross and its mission to explore the Milky Way and nearby galaxies in search for a possible new home for humanity. The EP tells the tale of its first foray into space and what happens when the crew accidentally travel through a wormhole and end up in an adjacent dimension populated by ancient gods and giant beings, ruled by the Green King. The EP ends with “From Suns Beyond,” where the crew make it off from the strange planet, back out into space in search of a way back home. The new album picks up the story as the Albatross blasts through the atmosphere of a seemingly unknown planet and crashlands headfirst into strange new adventures.

II by 10,000 Years

Now, less than a year after their first release, 10,000 Years are back with their first full-length effort, aptly titled 'II' (2021). Picking up right where the EP left off, II continues the story of the ill-fated Albatross mission and its exploration of time and space through a skull-crushing mixture of stoner rock, doom, and sludge metal. The album will no doubt continue to build on 10,000 Years' already golden reputation and prove to be an even bigger hit with the heavy masses.

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#D&S Debuts #10000 Years #Västerås #Sweden #doom metal #sludge #heavy metal #sci-fi #horror #music video #Interstellar Smoke Records #Death Valley Records #Ogo Rekords #Olde Magick Records #Doomed and Stoned

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Jurassic World Camp Cretaceous Season 3 Easter Eggs and References

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This article contains spoilers for Jurassic World Camp Cretaceous Season 3.

The third season of the Netflix and DreamWorks animated series Jurassic World Camp Cretaceous pits the teenaged main characters against the Scorpius rex, a hybrid dinosaur like nothing they’ve ever dealt with before. They successfully defeat her, while simultaneously thwarting an attempt by Dr. Henry Wu to retrieve his research on the hybrids and dealing with the emotional impact of leaving their new found family.

This season has a good amount of references to the rest of the franchise, like we have come to expect from the show, and in the final seconds teases the possibility of a fourth season. Here are some notable Easter eggs and other references to the Jurassic World and Jurassic Park canon.

The Helicopter

In Camp Cretaceous season 1, which took place concurrently with Jurassic World, we saw Simon Masrani’s helicopter crash into the aviary from the point of view of our camp fam, instead of Owen Grady and Claire Dearing (Chris Pratt and Bryce Dallas Howard) as shown in the movie. Season three of Camp Cretaceous continues to show us events from the movies from another perspective, as the story overlaps with the beginning of Fallen Kingdom.

Yes, it’s been six months since the Jurassic World incident stranded our group of teenagers on the island, as we find out from the pilot of one of the helicopters that arrive near the end of the season. Unfortunately, they aren’t the rescue team the kids have been hoping for. They’ve come to find the remains of the Indominus rex and extract DNA.

Camp Cretaceous Reveals the Real Monsters of Jurassic World

By Jennifer Lee Rossman

Jurassic World Camp Cretaceous Season 2 Ending Explained

By Jennifer Lee Rossman

In one harrowing scene, Rexy the Tyrannosaurus pursues a man dangling from one of the helicopters. He gets away, but his relief is short-lived when the park mosasaur leaps out of the water and devours him. If that scene gives you a sense of déjà vu, that’s because it takes place in the opening minutes of Fallen Kingdom, only this time we get to see it from the perspective of Darius, Brooklynn, and Yaz. Even though we didn’t see them in the movie, these kids were never far from the action. (And may have even caused it in this particular instance; Rexy was only in that area because she had been chasing after the kids.)

While that may be the most obvious connection to the timeline of the movies, the rest of the season has its fair share of references and homages.

Scorpius rex

Last season, the kids discovered a mysterious experiment known only as E750, which escaped her cryogenic chamber during the cliffhanger finale. This season, we get to meet her: Scorpius rex, an unstable and unpredictable hybrid made by none other than Dr. Henry Wu (played by BD Wong in the movies and voiced by Greg Chun in Camp Cretaceous).

She’s big, she’s bad, she’s covered in poisonous spikes, and she may be the most dangerous dinosaur on the island. Oh, and did I mention she can reproduce asexually?

Just like in Jurassic Park, when it is revealed that the dinosaurs can change their sex thanks to the frog DNA the scientists used to fill in the sequence gaps, our terrifying tree climbing friend Scorpius has developed the ability to produce offspring all on her own. (You go, girl. You’re a modern woman, you can juggle being a single mother and having a career screwing up ecosystems!)

Blue

Dr. Wu isn’t the only character from the movies who makes an appearance in this season of Camp Cretaceous. Blue, the sole member of the Velociraptor pack to survive the Jurassic World incident, crosses paths with the kids a few times.

Blue previously battled the Indominus rex in Jurassic World, and later takes on the Indoraptor near the end of Fallen Kingdom, but it turns out those weren’t her only experiences fighting hybrid dinosaurs. While I wouldn’t say she and the campers necessarily trust one another, Darius does save her life when she becomes trapped under a vehicle, and there is an uneasy alliance after that. Sort of an “enemy of my enemy” situation, with them having a similar goal to defeat the Scorpius rexes. (Scorpiuses rex?)

It would also appear that Blue and the other raptors, along with their trainer Owen Grady (Chris Pratt), might have been a little bit famous before the fall of the park, at least in dinosaur nerd circles. How else would Darius know how to mimic the nonverbal signals used by Owen to communicate with the raptors?

The Kitchen

While trying to get a compass back from the Compsognathus that stole it, the kids stumble upon the original Jurassic Park, which is rumored to be either haunted or cursed by the spirit of John Hammond (Richard Attenborough). And of course, no visit to Jurassic Park is complete without a trip to the visitor center. Nature has taken over the iconic building where we first met Mr. DNA, and where the first of many dramatic showdowns between Tyrannosaurus and Velociraptor marked the dénouement of the first film. Ferns and vines have turned the center into something resembling a greenhouse, and the Compies have built nests on old scaffolding and near the atrium ceiling.

And then, of course, there’s the kitchen.

When one of the Scorpius girls follows the kids into the visitor center’s kitchen, you can’t help but be reminded of Tim and Lex (Joseph Mazzello and Ariana Richards) hiding from the raptors in the first Jurassic Park movie. References to that scene abound, most noticeably the dinosaur’s breath fogging up the round window in the door, but this isn’t just an Easter egg hunt. Rather, the scene parallels the original to show the differences between the clever raptors and the… not so clever Scorpius.

The original raptors are careful, methodical, as they stalk John Hammond’s grandchildren through the kitchen. They move with a purpose that shows us just how intelligent they are.

Scorpius Rex, on the other hand, can’t open the door handle and chooses instead to just bash through it like the chaotic neutral she is. Less of an apex predator and more of a panicking cat with a balloon static electricity’d to her butt, Scorpius is still dangerous, perhaps even more so because she is unpredictable.

At the end of the scene, in one final blink and you’ll miss it nod to the original, an instantly recognizable soup ladle is one of several kitchen utensils sent flying through the air. The season ends with most of the storylines wrapped up and the kids seemingly on their way to safety on a boat headed for Costa Rica. Except… remember the door handle in the kitchen? Turns out, boats have the same handles, and one of them is jiggling in that distinctive raptor way.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Do we have a stowaway? We’ll find out if we get a fourth season.

Jurassic World Camp Cretaceous season 3 is available to stream on Netflix now.

The post Jurassic World Camp Cretaceous Season 3 Easter Eggs and References appeared first on Den of Geek.

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hiding-in-my-happy-place · 4 years

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Wayward Son alt. ending

If anyone else is still hung up on the ending of Wayward Son, and just wants Simon and Baz to just finally have a god damn moment, I wrote an alternate ending

Every time Baz or Simon is written in bold followed by a colon the perspective changes. (Major spoilers for Wayward Son)

Baz:

“Why can’t you see that I wouldn’t be happy anywhere without you?”

He sits back like I’ve slapped him.

“Simon....” I whisper.

I wait for him to get it. To finally give in to it.

Or maybe to say I‘ve passed the test.

Instead he shakes his head. “Baz....” His voice is barely there.

Simon:

He called me Simon. He called me Simon and it nearly broke my heart.

How can he be happy with me? With this superhero turned fuck up? Doesn’t he understand?

“Snow....” He shakes his head. “This whole trip...” His voice is trembling. His voice is breaking.

“This whole trip has been bloody awful, but it’s been...” He looks down at his hands, his voice is soft. He’s holding back tears.

I want so desperately to reach out and tell him everything will be alright. I want to wrap my arms around him and pull him into me. I want to be close to him. Why can I only get close to him when adrenaline pumps through my veins and I’ve just won a battle? Why can’t I get close to him now? When his heart is breaking and I can see him cracking and all I want is to reach out for him...

He looks up from his hands and his eyes meet mine and their soft and dark and deep. I want to fall into his eyes. Why can’t I just get close?

“It’s been so-” he pauses, and reaches out gently for my hand.

Baz:

He sucks in a breath the second my hand touches his and I think I’ve lost him. I think I’ve let this moment slip right through my fingers. I shouldn’t have pushed. I saw the way he drew back when I told him I wanted this (This...), I should have known not to reach for more.

Simon:

His palm is cool and smooth and it makes me desperate for more. For more skin, for more touch, for more Baz.

I push through whatever it is holding me back. I use all my strength and all my energy to push through whatever wall it is that has been built up between us. I slide towards him.

Baz:

He moves closer. Closer, until we touch, toes to knees to hips to shoulder. Closer until I can feel his warmth, his heat. Closer.

“Simon...” My voice is just air, light and floating.

“Baz...” His voice is thick, shaking.

I press my shoulder hard into his. I stare at our hands, fingers laced together. I can feel him here, I can feel him close. I turn my head so I can look into his eyes.

“This. It’s been this.” I say, hoping he understands me because I don’t know how else to say it. Because I don’t know how to tell him that this whole trip has dragged me through hell but I would do it all again just to be pressed against the convertible and kissed by him. I don’t know how to tell him I would do it all again just so I could lie in the back of a pickup truck with him, just so I could feel his lips, feel his heart, his heat. Feel him. Close.

“And this is?” His voice is a murmur, and his eyes are wide. He’s a small child begging for more

“Good. This is good,” I squeeze his hand. “God, Snow, this--this--when you’re here, when we’re here” He dips his head forward so he’s no longer looking at me. I reach out with my other hand and place my fingers lightly on his chin. I tilt his head back up so I can see his eyes. His big wide scared eyes. “This is only good.”

Simon:

His shoulder presses into mine and I feel the wall begin to crumble. His fingers wind their way through mine and the crack gets larger. His voice drops soft and he pulls me towards him, presses himself against me, stares into my eyes and tells me I’m good, that this is good, that we’re good, and the wall crashes down around me. My lungs feel like they’ve broken free from my ribs, the hand wrapped tight around my throat lets me go. And adrenaline pumps through my veins.

I want to be close. I want to pull him into me. I want to tell him he’s good. I want to be with him, on him, close to him. I want him.

Baz.

I want it, so I take it.

Baz:

He leans forward fast and quick. His lips meet mine with force, with urgency. He’s desperate. I’m desperate.

This.

This is only good.

His hand finds its way around the back of my neck. He pulls me closer, pulls me tighter, pulls me in. into him. Into Simon. Simon.

I break away to catch my breath. He pulls me close. He presses his forehead against mine, his hand is still on the back of my neck. We’re both panting. Our eyes are sparkling.

“Simon...” My heart falls. Just gaining enough space to breath reminds me of all that’s still left to be said. All that still needs to be said. He glances away. I can feel this fading. I can see him retreating. I can’t let him retreat. I think I’ll die if I go back to being far away from Simon Snow. “Why can’t it always be like this?” I plead. “Why do we have to be on the brink of the world ending for you to kiss me?”

Simon:

His voice is wounded. I’m the one who’s wounded it. I’m the one who's gone and screwed it all up. But for once that doesn’t make me want to run. I’m the one who hurt him, but I don’t have to keep hurting him. If I can get close to him, close like this... If I can kiss him, kiss him like this... If I could just talk to him... If I could just tell him... I want to.

With our foreheads pressed together, I’m staring down are our hands, still twisted together. I want them to stay that way. I can make them stay that way if I try.

I can feel the tightness growing back in my chest. I don’t know how to tell him anything and I don't know why. I don’t want to lose this. My throat is tight, as if I’ve swallowed an ocean of salt water, as if I’ve held back a year of tears. I probably have.

He shifts, pulls his head back. No. Don’t leave me. I pull at the back of his neck.

“No.” I pull harder. “Please, no.”

“Simon...” Simon.

“Please stay.” My voice cracks and then the dam breaks and a year of tears, the entire ocean of salt water, breaks free. I’m gasping for air, sobbing. I collapse into his chest, still pulling at his neck, still begging him not to leave. “Please.”

Baz:

He collapses into my arms and it takes me a second to process he’s crying. Have I ever seen the great Simon Snow cry? I pull him into me. “Shhhh, Shhhh”

“Please” He murmurs again through thick ugly tears.

“Shhh, It’s okay, it’s okay” Is it? Is any of this okay? Merlin, I love this boy. I want it to be easy. But easy is bullshit. Simon is never easy. I want him to be happy, but Simon is barely happy either. And yet, this? His sobbing into my chest, it feels more like progress than a smile ever could. It feels real. Like he’s letting it all in, finally.

“It’s going to be okay,” I murmur. I run my hand through his hair, thick and overgrown. His beautiful beautiful hair, left unkempt by a year of depression. How beautiful it still is. How beautiful he still is. “I’m not going anywhere, golden boy, I’m not going anywhere.”

He takes a deep breath. It’s shaky, but stabilizing. “Baz?”

“I’m here.” How is it possible for him to fill me up with so much hope and love just by saying my name. Please, please don’t close back up. Stay. Stay, like I’m staying for you.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s so small I barely catch it. It’s soft and broken, and it breaks me. It crumbles my heart.

“I’m so sorry, Baz.” His voice breaks again, so I squeeze his hand, still wrapped in mine.

“Shhhh” I murmur back.

He pulls away from my chest, in slow motion, as if to reassure me he’s not going anywhere far, just far enough away to look at me. But still, my heart jumps into my throat, worried I’ve lost him again.

He takes his free hand and wipes away the tears from his eyes and cheeks and scrapes the back of his palm across his nose. He looks flushed, the way he does after a battle and I wonder if this is its own kind of battle. He doesn’t look at me, instead he fixes his eyes onto our hands.

“I don’t,” he starts, and he’s still speaking so soft, but I don’t dare interrupt him. “I don’t know why I can’t.”

The words hang in the air for a long moment. It’s probably only a second by time feels weighted now. “Can’t what?” I ask, afraid my question will scare him away.

“I don’t know why it can’t always be like this. I don’t know why I can’t,” His voice breaks again and he takes a breath. “Be like this, always.”

I can feel my heart beating hard against my rib cage.

“I want to be like this. I want to be near you,” He’s crying again, though this time just pools and pools of tears he rubs away quickly from his eyes. No sobs or shaking breath. “I’m trying.”

I want to tell him I know he is. But I don’t. I’ve never known if he is. “You are?”

He nods his head like a lost little kid, terrified of the great big world around him. I don’t blame him at all. If I had lived the life of Simon Snow, I’d be terrified too.

“Snow-”

“Simon.”

He looks up at me when he says it. His own name.

Simon:

His eyebrows pull together, a look of confusion crosses his face. Baz is so rarely caught off guard that I almost want to take a moment to savor it.

“Simon..?” He says it like it’s a whole new name, one that has never been said before. It’s heavy on his lips and twisted up with questions, but still it makes me swoon to hear him call me Simon. Simon.

“I like it when you call me Simon.” I feel my cheeks flush red and I glance down fast, away from his face to our hands.

“Oh.” My eyes flash up to meet his. His eyebrows have unfurrowed and he’s smiling. It’s small, not a big grin or anything, Baz doesn’t smile like that. His eyes go soft and his mouth turns slightly and he seems warm. Like he’s somehow managed to to make his own blood again.

I open my mouth, about to ask if that's okay, but he cuts me off.

“Simon.” It’s sweet and sing-songy. I didn't know Baz could sound like that. “Simon.” I feel my cheeks flush even darker. He reaches out and strokes a soft smooth thumb across them. When he moves to pull his hand away I catch it and hold it snug in place.

“Baz...” I feel my heart soaring. I can do this. I can tell him what I want. I can ask him to stay. I can cry. I can let him in and when I do he doesn’t run. He smiles and he calls me Simon and he cups my face in his hand.

“Simon...”

And I want him. I want this. I want more. I love him. I’m in love with Tyrannus Basilton Pitch.

“I wish I could be better.” I force myself to maintain eye contact. I stare deep into his eyes andI’m surprised that I find comfort. How many times have I glanced away from him when I was terrified to face him? Could I have found this deep warm comfort every time if I had just looked at him?

Baz:

Oh My golden boy, how heartbroken you are. How scared. But you’re looking at me. You’re looking straight into my eyes, you’re letting me touch you. You’re letting me be near to you.

“You’re getting better, Simon. If we can have more of this...”

He leans into me, brushing my hand away from his cheek to kiss me. It’s not deep like the last one, or desperate. It's soft and sweet and gentle. I didn't know Simon could kiss like this. I didn’t know it could be wrapped up in a quiet soft moment like this one. I didn’t know he could feel warm instead of hot, slow instead of full speed. I didn't know....

He pulls back, but it doesn’t feel like he’s going to leave. It feels like he is giving me space to speak. Space to kiss him back. Space so that he can smile the way he’s smiling now, a big wide Simon Snow Golden Boy smile. And god I love him. I love this boy.

“I am?” He looks giddy. Like I’ve told him he’s won the lottery.

“Yes...” and I let my response get cut off by another soft gentle kiss. This time, though, I don’t know who leans in first. It feels mutual, like we’re moving with one mind. It feels natural. Easy.

He smiles against my lips and cups my cheek in his warm soft hand. We break apart but he leaves his hand there, pressed against me. He’s beaming and his eyes are sparkling.

“Simon,” I say it drawn out slightly so he can revel in it. I’ll never call him snow again, if calling him simon makes him smile like that. If only I had known that calling him Simon was the key to his heart.

But this time he shakes his head. At first I’m worried I’ve done something wrong, but he’s still smiling.

“What?” My nerves force a small laugh out of my lips as I speak.

“It’s like, I’ve been trying to get here for a whole year and suddenly- I just I’ve wanted to tell you- It’s been such a long year and I’ve been trying to get-” He cuts himself off with a similar nervous laugh. He’s not looking at me. His head is bent. He shakes his free hand through his hair and I can tell his cheeks are bright scarlett. He takes a deep breath, interrupted again by half laugh, over before it’s even started. He looks up and stares deep into my eyes and I wonder what he sees when he looks at me like that?

“Basilton, I’m trying to tell you I’m in love with you.”

Simon:

His eyes grow wide and his lips part slightly, like he’s about to say something. My heart flutters in my chest and I think I might puke.

“Baz!” Someone shouts, cutting the moment directly in half.

I snap my head in the direction of the voice and find Penelope running towards us. She’s out of breath, her whole face lit with horror. I jump to my feet but I glance back at Baz and see that it’s still sitting looking at where I just was, as if Penny hasn’t just run at us. As if she isn’t acting like she just escaped a dragon.

“Simon,” she reaches us and bends in half, resting her hands on her knees while she pants to catch her breath.

“What? What is it?” Baz seems to register the fear in my voice and snaps out of his daze. He sees Penny, focuses in on her shaking hands and trembling voice, and jumps to his feet as well.

“There’s trouble at Watford. We have to go home—now.”

#wayward son #Carry on #Wayward son fan fiction #Wayward son spoilers #Wayward son alternative ending #Simon Snow #Baz #Basilton Pitch #Snow Baz #Simon X Baz #I'm obsessed with these idiots and needed them to finally have a conversation #like why can't they just talk???

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tiger-manya · 4 years

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So, my Miraculous Ulysses AU.

I was genuinely surprised how many people responded to this (which is like… ten, but still). Thank you everyone, @furryhamlet in particular. I don’t know how serious I am about this, but does anybody really?

First, let us take a moment to establish the main similarities between Ulysses, a modernist masterpiece by James Joyce, and Miraculous Ladybug, a (debatably metamodern?) kids show:

puns;

the revolutionary new trope of main hero having a dead mother and the resulting father issues (never done before or after);

farts and bathroom humour (more prevalent in Ulysses, of course).

I think everything is quite clear.

And now, without further ado, Miraculous Ulysses AU:

It’s still Dublin, it’s still 1904, but now there’s also magic. And superheroes.

Stephen Dedalus has a black cat miraculous; Buck Mulligan has a bee miraculous; Simon Dedalus has a butterfly miraculous (not because I think it suits him, but because someone has to); Leopold Bloom is the guardian, but he doesn't do a very good job; Molly is often Ladybug, but it's not like she cares a lot.

All of them, of course, have different names for their alternate personas, but I'm not clever enough with names and not skilled enough with English language. Let's just say: Simon doesn't bother; Bloom comes up with a name for every person he gives a miraculous to, but none of them use those; Stephen has a million names, all very deep and clever, but the only one that stuck is whatever Mulligan mockingly called him that one time; and I don't know what's Bee!Mulligan name is, but it's inappropriate for general audiences.

I’ll have some placeholder names to make it easier for myself. Stephen may remain Chat Noir (he would probably name himself after a cabaret, at least to honour his teenage rebellion against church); Simon Dedalus can be Moth Daddy; Buck is… idk, Hornet? Hornet will do.

May Dedalus, Stephen’s mother, died not from cancer but from the misuse of the damaged peacock miraculous. After her death, Simon started akumatizing people into villains. He’s aware of the wish, but at this point it’s mostly about revenge to Chat Noir.

(Chat Noir might be the one who damaged the peacock miraculous in the first place, but it never said outright.)

He, of course, doesn't know anything about his son being Chat. Stephen, however, knows everything about his parents, but has no idea what to do with this information. It's a source of his resentment, but he can't bring himself to properly sort out his feelings.

Mulligan and Stephen know nothing about each other’s alternate identities. Stephen is friends with Mulligan mostly because his father doesn't want it. He actually resents Mulligan a lot, but is sympathetic towards Hornet because sees him as someone similar to him, someone who could actually understand his world-view and take it seriously. Chat spends some efforts to turn Hornet to his side but to no avail. Mulligan, on the other hand, thinks Chat Noir is a pretentious prick, but has a lot of genuine admiration for Stephen, even though he hides it under the layers of sarcasm and cynicism, as he doesn't want to be seen as weak. And that is your love square, everybody.

Hornet starts out as an independent party, but at some point begins working for Moth. Naturally, Simon finds out his identity and that’s the main reason he doesn’t want to see him anywhere near his son.

It’s Bloom who deals with the most akuma emergencies. He often recruits different dubliners to his side, but almost none of them stick to the job. Chat helps time to time, even though this help is often incidental, and he’s a lot more interested in Hornet shenanigans. Bloom is aware of Chat, but they never have time to properly talk to each other. Bloom wants to meet him; Bloom is searching for him.

The guardian duties tire him a lot. Bloom inherited the miracle box from his father with three miraculous already missing. Later he lost the fourth one, the bee miraculous, which he considers his greatest mistake. His relationship with Molly is not that great either. She used to regularly take a role of Ladybug, but after her singing career took off, she started losing interest. Nowadays Bloom often gives the ladybug miraculous to other women. Gerty is one of them.

Boylan is there somewhere. There’s probably an episode where he gets akumatized and Bloom and Molly are the ones to deal with it (very awkward for all parties).

Just so you know, the masturbation scene is still there.

There are a lot of Odyssey themed akumas. For instance, local back-seat political expert The Citizen is turned into Cyclops.

There was one person Stephen tried to tell about Chat Noir. A few years ago, before his run off to Paris, he tried talking to Cranly about the ring. He immediately got excited about the possibilities, insisted he and Stephen could work together as a superhero team. Stephen tried to explain himself, but ultimately saw that Cranly wouldn't ever understand. He brushed the whole thing off as a joke and never returned to it. At some point, Stephen thinks he should reveal himself to Mulligan, but then remembers Cranly and decides against it.

Haines’s dream about panther hunting is still there and now it cuts even deeper.

There’s a Chat Blanc type episode. It’s called Pangur Bán and it’s about the horrifying alternate reality of Stephen staying in Ireland (it’s not that bad, actually, but Stephen has a meltdown).

Ultimately, Stephen finds out Hornet is Mulligan. That's what seals his betrayal to Stephen, so there is nothing he could do but go to the brothel and get drunk. What led him to this discovery is that during their last encounter Hornet reused one of Stephen's aphorisms only Mulligan could know at that point. (He also grossly misquoted it and twisted the meaning.)

It’s in the brothel that Bloom recognizes Stephen (who is severely drunk at this point) as a son of his friend and saves him from the trouble he’s about to lead himself into. That’s when he notices the ring and realizes that Stephen is Chat Noir.

Bloom is happy beyond belief. He’s finally met someone he could share his guardian duties with. He buys Stephen some food and lets him sober up a bit, afterwards he invites him to his home and proposes a plan. Stephen could live in Bloom’s house with a better, more stable job. Bloom could share all his guardian knowledge with him, so he could better control his powers. They could work together as a team to finally bring Moth and Hornet to justice and end all this mess. Finally, Stephen could become the next guardian and have a miracle box all to himself. He responds to this with silence. Bloom apologizes and says he understands it’s a lot to take in, so he tells Stephen to think on it until morning.

Bloom falls asleep near his wife, full of hope for the future.

Before dawn, Stephen leaves Bloom’s house with his ring and his wallet. He plans to spend his last money on a ticket to France.

Before we end, a few things about an ideal media format for this AU:

It’s an animated tv series, at least 3 seasons long.

The style and quality of animation varies drastically from episode to episode, sometimes suddenly changing in the middle of one. There are at least 9 studious working on this, the communication between them isn’t great.

It all takes place in one day, 16 June 1904, but the viewers can’t tell that for sure until the last episode. This revelation might frustrate them at first, but once they’ll look back, they realize it kind of makes sense, as there is hardly any change of weather or time of day during the vast majority of episodes.

Unfortunately, it will be very hard to look back at, as all the episodes are aired out of order.

The series is broadcasted in many countries, each of which has its own order of episodes. And none of them has a full translation. Actually, nobody can have a full translation, until the thing becomes public domain. Until then, there are only automatically generated and machine translated subtitles. And fansubs, I guess.

Not to mention it gets banned really quickly in a lot of places.

The fans lose their mind, trying to establish continuity. There are multiple theories and theme tables to make sense of it all. The meaning also can change drastically, depending on the order you watch it in, so there are full-blown fandom continuity wars. People go mad. People die. It feels like a fever dream.

But once it all put together?

Absolute masterpiece.

Thank you for reading. Sorry for any mistakes or awkward English.

Was this necessary? No. Will I stand by it? Well, yes I said yes I will Yes

#miraculous ladybug #ulysses #james joyce #Stephen Dedalus #the tales of ladybug and cat noir #miraculous au #Buck Mulligan #Leopold Bloom #Simon Dedalus #May Dedalus #miraculous holders #crack #?#i'm sorry #or am i really?

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mahometchristian · 3 years

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Dear Friends,

Our gospel lesson for this Sunday morning describes Jesus' response to the horrific news that John the Baptist had been arrested (Mark 1:14, 1:29-39). John was arrested and later executed because he insisted that the governor was not above the law.

How did Jesus respond to the distressing news that John was arrested?

Jesus responded by healing the sick, casting out demons and praying. He told his disciples that he was going to continue what he was sent to do: to announce by words and deed that the kingdom of God was coming near and everyone should believe this good news!

In other words, Jesus remained optimistic in spite of the bad news and Jesus did not despair.

Both of our historic congregations, First Christian Bertram and Mahomet Christian have suffered extraordinary loss and change. First Christian Bertram voted to close and an arsonist burned down the Mahomet church facility.

But rather than being overwhelmed with loss and despair, we are called to follow Jesus and continue to believe and proclaim the good news that the Kingdom of God is drawing near.

The Bertram congregation voted to give the proceeds all church assets to build a chapel at the Christian Camp in Gonzales. The Mahomet congregation is actively exploring ways to re-gather and move ahead.

During this time of transition, I will share meditations and prayers by email and online at www.mahometchristian.net. Should you wish to receive an occasional email with meditations and prayers please send me your email address. Our email address is [email protected].

One driving force that lead to the execution of Jesus was his call for unity. Many people in the first century fueled divisions and various types of segregation, abuse and violence. Jesus called his followers to welcome all people into loving fellowship and that sacred call remains our task today in our deeply divided society.

Here is a prayer so appropriate for our times:

O God,

you created all people in your image.

We thank you for the astonishing variety

of races and cultures in this world.

Enrich our lives by ever-widening circles of friendship,

and show us your presence in those who differ most from us,

until the knowledge of your love is made perfect

in our love for all of your children,

through your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

(from The Book of Common Worship, Westminster Press, 1993, p. 796)

Our opportunity is to remain connected and serve as we experience the Good News (Gospel) that God’s Kingdom of peace and love is here and it will grow stronger.

May God bless and keep you!

John

Texts for February 7, 2020 The Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

First Reading Isaiah 40:21-31 21 Have you not known? Have you not heard? Has it not been told you from the beginning? Have you not understood from the foundations of the earth? 22 It is he who sits above the circle of the earth, and its inhabitants are like grasshoppers; who stretches out the heavens like a curtain, and spreads them like a tent to live in; 23 who brings princes to naught, and makes the rulers of the earth as nothing. 24 Scarcely are they planted, scarcely sown, scarcely has their stem taken root in the earth, when he blows upon them, and they wither, and the tempest carries them off like stubble. 25 To whom then will you compare me, or who is my equal? says the Holy One. 26 Lift up your eyes on high and see: Who created these? He who brings out their host and numbers them, calling them all by name; because he is great in strength, mighty in power, not one is missing. 27 Why do you say, O Jacob, and speak, O Israel, “My way is hidden from the LORD, and my right is disregarded by my God”? 28 Have you not known? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. 29 He gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless. 30 Even youths will faint and be weary,

and the young will fall exhausted; 31 but those who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.

Psalm 147:1-11, 20c 1 Praise the Lord! How good it is to sing praises to our God; for he is gracious, and a song of praise is fitting. 2 The Lord builds up Jerusalem; he gathers the outcasts of Israel. 3 He heals the brokenhearted, and binds up their wounds. 4 He determines the number of the stars; he gives to all of them their names. 5 Great is our Lord, and abundant in power; his understanding is beyond measure. 6 The Lord lifts up the downtrodden; he casts the wicked to the ground. 7 Sing to the Lord with thanksgiving; make melody to our God on the lyre. 8 He covers the heavens with clouds, prepares rain for the earth, makes grass grow on the hills. 9 He gives to the animals their food, and to the young ravens when they cry. 10 His delight is not in the strength of the horse, nor his pleasure in the speed of a runner; 11 but the Lord takes pleasure in those who fear him, in those who hope in his steadfast love. 20c Praise the Lord!

Second Reading 1 Corinthians 9:16-23 16If I proclaim the gospel, this gives me no ground for boasting, for an obligation is laid on me, and woe to me if I do not proclaim the gospel! 17For if I do this of my own will, I have a reward; but if not of my own will, I am entrusted with a commission. 18What then is my reward? Just this: that in my proclamation I may make the gospel free of charge, so as not to make full use of my rights in the gospel. 19For though I am free with respect to all, I have made myself a slave to all, so that I might win more of them. 20To the Jews I became as a Jew, in order to win Jews. To those under the law I became as one under the law (though I myself am not under the law) so that I might win those under the law. 21To those outside the law I became as one outside the law (though I am not free from God’s law but am under Christ’s law) so that I might win those outside the law. 22To the weak I became weak, so that I might win the weak. I have become all things to all people, that I might by all means save some. 23I do it all for the sake of the gospel, so that I may share in its blessings

Gospel Mark 1:29-39 29As soon as they left the synagogue, they entered the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John. 30Now Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told him about her at once. 31He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them. 32That evening, at sundown, they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons. 33And the whole city was gathered around the door. 34And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons; and he would not permit the demons to speak, because they knew him.

35In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. 36And Simon and his companions hunted for him.

37When they found him, they said to him, “Everyone is searching for you.” 38He answered, “Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.”

39And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons.

-30-

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canyouhearthelight · 4 years

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The Miys, Ch. 68

One chapter, beta’d by both @satan-parisienne and @baelpenrose, so there should be a minimum of errors floating around in there.

As some have noticed, I did update the Master List over the weekend. A few other things I just want to touch on:

Ask box is literally always open, as is my inbox. Feel free to drop questions, comments, whatever in there. I love interacting with people, so it makes my day to see y’all reach out to me.

Also, I recently crossed the threshold for 500 followers. It’s crazy, and I’m just gobsmacked that you all follow me. I won’t be doing a character contest this time, but keep your peepers peeled for what I am doing instead...

Now, on with our chapter!

“To confirm Councilor Reid’s statement, the bacteria that was, until recently, potentially killing us, is instead killing itself?”

“Correct, Eino.”

“And this is a bad thing because it is sentient?”

“Partially why it is bad, yes.”

“Xiomara, if I may?” I couldn’t see them, but I could practically hear Grey lean forward and push their glasses further up the bridge of their nose. Just the tone of voice told me that this Grey was well-rested and firing on all cylinders.

Xiomara nodded, then dropped her head back to suppress a groan when she realized the rest of the Council couldn’t actually see her. “Please go ahead, Grey. You are probably better to explain this than I am.”

“Thank you.” A brief pause. “While I do confess that I argued stringently against the decision that Else is sentient, in the end, even I was satisfied with the decision. However, Terran studies of neural matrices do show that there is a threshold of connections, below which sentience does not exist except as a potential. It stands to reason that, for a hive minded species such as Else or even the Hujylsogox, loss of too many members would create a similar loss of sentience.”

Noah’s voice hummed in confirmation. “This is correct. Even if I were to lose too many of my avatars, and later come in proximity to others of my kind, I would no longer be myself but instead be absorbed into the sentient member, and they would gain any information I had learned.”

I felt my face contort into a horrified expression. “Noah, does that happen?”

“Only in very dire circumstances, Wisdom. It is considered a capital crime do so against a cluster’s will, and the height of rudeness to begin to do so accidentally.”

“Question: if a species can lose sentience due to low population, can it actually be considered sentient?” Eino’s tone was carefully inquisitive rather than argumentative.

“The problem cannot be framed in that way and make logical sense,” Grey advised, not unkindly. “According to the Galactic research database, each member of a hive-minded species serves as a neural connection for one single, larger mind. Just because the individual loses neural awareness or function, the species does not; believing so would be comparative to stating we are not sentient as a species simply because sufficient neural damage can render one of us brain-dead.”

“Thank you for the clarification,” he breathed, seemingly in relief.

Grey continued. “In this case, however, there are no others of Else’s species. It is such a young race, that despite so many bodies, it only has one mind for now. Should too many bodies die off from starvation out of Else’s attempt to do no further harm, sentience will be lost. At that point, there is a reasonable amount of certainty that it will begin to eat freely again, and become sentient again.”

“And there is no guarantee that the new version of Else will like us as much as the current version. We can’t take that chance,” Xiomara finished. “What if we end up with a homicidal bacterium instead of an apologetic one.”

The entire channel fell silent at the weight of her words. I couldn’t blame anyone – it was a lot to process. Hell, I was the one who brought the topic to her attention, and even I felt the need to vomit when she said it. It was too much to really contemplate for long.

“So, what are we supposed to do? Feed it?” The words may have sounded sarcastic coming from a different person, but I knew Pranav was considering this a genuine option. In the time I had known him, he had always worked with the facts, regardless of what anyone hoped to dreamt.

Looked like it was my turn. “We actually have a few options that Else mentioned on their own, when they were trying to convince me not to have them eradicated.”

After a brief pause, Giang Huynh spoke up. “Please elaborate, Sophia.” Not only the illness, but the destruction or degradation of several structures had led to his department being the one most effected by Else. Instead of his normal belligerence, he just sounded resigned.

Taking a deep breath, I laid out what Else and I discussed. “The first, probably easiest option, is to isolate all of Else and deposit the entire culture into the first nebula we reach.”

“Nebulas are very rich in iron,” Eino pointed out. “But does it need oxygen?”

“Else is largely anaerobic,” Grey responded. “Due to its diet of iron, open air is almost immediately fatal to it. This explains why it has been predominantly found in bone marrow and the spleen, as that is where the highest amount of iron can be found in the human body, before the blood is oxygenated.”

“Are there any downsides to this option?” Simon asked. Since I was technically still on medical leave, he was acting in my stead. The only reason I was allowed on this conference was as a witness, not a Councillor.

“Else doesn’t like it,” I admitted. “Because, and I quote, ‘there are no humans in a nebula’.”

“Miys, does Else have a say in this?” Eino asked, curious.

“As a sentient species, yes, they must agree to the relocation unless their current environment is untenable without drastic intervention. Technically, their current environment is viable for the foreseeable future.”

“Wait – what?” Simon sputtered. “We only recently stopped needing constant transfusions.”

“Not all of the ship needed them on a constant basis,” Grey pointed out. “And some who were impacted did not need them at all until very near the end of the crisis.”

She means others like Tyche, I realized. “Okay, so that’s an option, but only if we lack any others and can talk Else into it,” I forged ahead. “Which means any discussion of whether or not Else needs to be forcibly relocated is moot, because they did bring up other options.” I paused for response, and continued when there was none. “The second option was dropping them off on a barren, iron-rich planet with a late-sequence star.”

“How is that any different?” Huynh sputtered in confusion.

I watched Xiomara’s eyes get wide. “Tactics,” she breathed before repeating it, louder. “It’s a tactical preference. An iron-rich world, especially a barren one, is more likely to be mined, isn’t it?”

“Mining such planets requires significantly less effort and resources than are needed to mine a nebula,” Noah confirmed.

“And mining gives them the chance to be picked up by a new species,” Xiomara dropped like a bomb, triggering a rush of muttering.

“We should only base the value of an option on whether or not it will be a detriment to Else if it is certain to prevent the detriment, regardless of the impact to us.” I was initially surprised to hear such a venomous tone from Huynh, before considering his home nation’s history. Okay, he has every reason to be adamant here. After all, his country had suffered horribly at the hands of mine, not even a century prior. “Are there any other options?”

“Put them in stasis and bring them with us,” I confessed. “But, I also pointed this out to Else: And then what? It’s still a finite resource situation, in the long run. Not to mention the fact that we are working toward having the least possible impact to the new world – doesn’t bringing a sentient plague with us completely defeat the purpose?”

“We are already studying the impact our own gut bacteria will have on Kepler 442b,” Grey added. “And while we have no plans for large-scale mining of natural resources, the planet and its star already have poor metallicity.”

“I feel like those options really cover everything that is actually available to us,” Xiomara confessed.

“Agreed,” Pranav chimed in. “There is an option that Else does not like, but provides greatest opportunity for it to thrive. There is an option it likes, which also provides the chance for a species that shows every indication of being quite social to potentially interact with others. And there is an option that is really only a stopgap measure.”

“Ultimately, Else has to agree to whatever measure is to be taken,” Noah pointed out, attempting to be helpful.

“Else wants to stay with us,” I rebutted. “So much so that it is about to lobotomize itself in the attempt. We have to convince it to take an option that is better for its survival.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized what I was saying. I didn’t even attempt to suppress the groan of regret that erupted.

“If you are done impersonating a cow,” Xiomara grinned wryly, “Yes, that means we need to negotiate with Else.”

“You mean I need to,” I grumbled.

Grey gave me a sliver of vain hope. “We are attempting to locate another individual who has been able to get in touch with it, Sophia. While their method of conveying it was quite crude, Mr. MacMaoilir and Mr. Okima did have a valid concern regarding how taxing it is for your body when you are speaking with Else.”

“Any luck?”

“Not as of yet, no.” Damn it. Even Grey sounded unhappy with the fact.

“So, unless something drastic changes, the plan is for me to try to talk Else into agreeing to either relocating to a nebula or a barren planet, either way, no people. Does that about sum it up?” Confirmations came from everyone. “Wonderful. And if anyone comes up with any other options, please make sure we know ahead of time. Even a brief conversation is going to be ten hours, if the last one is anything to go by.”

“About that,” Eino ventured hesitantly. “The case study for your previous interview with Else indicates that you recited scientific papers to provide a lexicon. Is this true?”

“I wish it wasn’t, but yes, it’s true.”

His tone almost immediately perked up. “Since you know going in what you will be discussing, would it be more beneficial if we instead played a targeted lexicon for you to recite? It may minimize the time you spend reciting unnecessary or repetitive words.” When I didn’t immediately respond, he clarified. “I understand that your previous interaction involved many open-ended questions, and therefore you needed as many words as conceivably necessary for an intelligible response, but this time, the questions are close-ended, are they not?”

“The questions are at least more close-ended, yes,” I admitted, realizing what he was getting at.

“Council, I would like to offer my department to support this situation by preparing a targeted lexicon for the upcoming negotiations with Else. Should another person be found to enter into negotiations, we will also create a script for the questions themselves, which should provide enough language for Else to respond coherently with their answers.”

I shrugged and nodded at Xiomara. Even if I was going to be the person doing this, a targeted lexicon would be easier – and less time consuming – to recite than scientific papers.

She nodded firmly before replying, “That is a value add, definitely. Council vote?”

Unsurprisingly, the decision was unanimous. “Any idea how long it will take to get everything ready?” I asked, admittedly impatient. “We don’t know how long we have until Else reaches that threshold Grey mentioned.”

Eino hummed for a moment. “Tentatively? Five days. Conservatively, I would put it at a week.”

Pinching my nose before swiping an entire down my entire face, I made some quick estimates. “I don’t think Else has that long, I’ll be honest. Grey, do you have any idea how fast it is reducing itself? Or better yet, how long before it reaches a critical density?”

“As to the second inquiry, there has been no study to even begin estimations, but I will task a group of researchers with finding an answer. However, we do have hard data in regard to the first question: Since you last spoke with Else, seventeen percent of its population has died off. It has also ceased replication of itself. By current estimates, we have less than thirteen days before Else is entirely extinct.”

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#the miys #science fiction #humans are weird #aliens #original fiction #humans are space orcs #plague #apocalypse #sci fi

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hms-chill · 4 years

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RWRB Study Guide, Chapter 8

Hi y’all! I’m going through Casey McQuiston’s Red, White & Royal Blue and defining/explaining references! Feel free to follow along, or block the tag #rwrbStudyGuide if you’re not interested!

James I (203): James I/VI (First of England, Sixth of Scotland) is known for both translating the Bible and being just... so, so incredibly gay. The book mentions that he promoted a dumb jock to gentleman of the bedchamber, but it leaves out that 13-year-old James would just make out with dudes in public, and that the dumb jock (George Villers) was James’s third serious adult relationship. His friends introduced him to George because his last boyfriend was bad for the kingdom.

George Eliot (205): Mary Anne Evans wrote under the pen name George Eliot to escape the stereotype that women could only write romances. She wrote seven novels, of which Middlemarch is the most famous, known for their realism and psychological insight.

Daniel Defoe (205): A pioneer of the English novel, Defoe wrote Robinson Crusoe as well as a series of divisive political pamphlets and tracts.

Jonathan Swift (205): Irish political writer most famous for A Modest Proposal, a satirical piece that suggests cannibalism of infants as a more humane response to the British treatment of Ireland than letting them grow to starve in adulthood.

Dickens... “woman who languishes away in a crumbling mansion wearing her wedding gown” (205): Charles Dickens wrote stories concerned with the lower classes. This quote in particular refers to Miss Havisham from Great Expectations, who was left at the altar and refused to take off her wedding dress or even put away the food set out for the wedding.

Sense and Sensibility (205): This is probably Austen’s second most popular novel (after Pride and Prejudice); it follows the four Dashwood women in their move to a new home following the death of Mr. Dashwood. Like most of Austen’s novels, the opinionated narrator follows the women through a series of romantic mishaps, culminating in a happy ending.

Green American Money (206): Fun fact, British money is blue and orange and purple and all sorts of fun colors! It also all looks different, because (at least in Scotland) four banks are allowed to print pound notes, so there are four different designs all in circulation.

Sean Hannity (206): A conservative American political commentator.

Harvard rowing (206): Rowing is like... the bougiest of sports.

Pleiad (206): In Greek mythology, the pleiades were the daughters of the titan Atlas who became stars following his entrapment under the earth. They are remembered for their beauty and loyalty. Myths of the missing pleiad explain why only six of the seven stars are visible to the naked eye. According to some sources, the missing pleiad is Merope, who was shamed out of the sky for her relationship with a mortal.

Minute Maid Park (206): The baseball stadium associated with the Houston Astros baseball team; it seats just over 41,000.

Politico (207): An American political opinion news source.

Drop-kick Murphys (208): An American Celtic punk band. (listen here and here)

The Klan (209): The Ku Klux Klan, an incredibly racist organization that has been responsible for the lynching of thousands of people of color.

Kim Nam-June (210): Kim Nam-Joon, known as RM or Rap Monster, is the leader and rapper of the K-pop group BTS.

Milwaukee (211): The largest city in and main cultural center of Wisconsin, which is a “swing state”, meaning that it could go either way politically in a national election.

Seth Meyers (211): An American talk show host and comedian whose creatively titled show, Late Night with Seth Meyers, is liberal-leaning. He hosts celebrities and often chats about politics or the news.

Clear Crystal Quartz (211): Apparently the most “iconic” crystal, it is believed to be able to help with clarity and the achievement of goals.

Wimbledon (213): The oldest tennis tournament in the world, considered by many to be the most prestigious.

Royal Box (213): The royal box at Wimbledon is a section of the best seats, reserved for royalty and specially invited celebrity/politically powerful guests.

David Beckham (213): A former professional soccer player and current fashion icon known for being hot and wearing nice suits.

McQueen (214): Alexander McQueen was an openly gay British fashion designer who rose from a lower class background to become one of the most famous designers in the world. Though he died in 2010, his brand continues to be known for unconventional fashion shows and theatrical imagery.

Dashikis (215): A colorful, ornate piece of clothing somewhere between a shirt and a tunic originally from West Africa.

Orangery (218): A very large greenhouse or conservatory designed for growing orange trees.

Woman at her Toilet (218): This painting shows a woman in her bedroom putting on her socks with a little dog next to her; you can see it here.

Baroque bed* (218): Baroque art was designed to show off a monarch’s power; it is incredibly extravagant (Versailles is pretty much the iconic Baroque thing; you can see more about it here).

The Killers (219): An American rock band formed in the early 2000s and known for having donated over $1 million to charity (they did “Mr. Brightside”). (listen here and here). According to McQuinston’s twitter, the song Henry plays is “When You Were Young”, which you can listen to here.

Dred Scott (219): In the 1857 Dred Scott v. Sandford case, the US supreme court ruled that the constitution did not extend to or protect Black folks.

Nina Simone (219): An American singer/songwriter/political activist whose music spanned a variety of genres and whose activism focused largely on the civil rights movement and was largely influenced by her “friend” Lorraine Hansberry, a Black lesbian playwright. (You know Hozier’s “Nina Cried Power”? She’s Nina) (listen here and here)

Otis Redding (219): Considered one of the greatest singers in American pop music and was one of the foundational soul artists in the US. (listen here and here)

Brahms (219): A German composer known for sticking to more classical forms of music while his contemporaries often leaned toward more dramatic or opulent styles. (listen here and here)

Wagner** (219): A German composer who wrote both the music and the librettos for his operas; his works tend to be very complex, and he has been credited with beginning modern music. (listen here and here)

Romantic (219): Artistically, the Romantic movement was a direct response to industrialization that called for a return to and celebration of nature. Queerness was very much a part of this movement, as it was seen as a return to or celebration of one’s natural state (think Byron).

War of the Romantics (219): A music history term used to describe the split between conservative composers like Brahms who wanted to stick with the Baroque, opulent styles of the past century and radical progressive composers like Liszt, who favored newer styles that blended music with narrative and morals.

Liszt (219): A Hungarian composer known for a diverse body of work and his position as the leader of the radical progressive group in the War of the Romantics. (listen here and here)

Alexander Scriabin (219): Russian composer known for his atonal or dissonant music. (listen to the piece Henry mentions here)

Elton John’s “Your Song” (219): A song written before Elton John came out, but with his queerness in mind. In a 2013 interview, John referred to it as “a perfect song”, and that the lyrics (written by Bernie Taupin) got even better as he got older and sang it more. (listen here)

Consecrated (220): made holy.

DNC (221): The Democratic national conference, when members of the Democratic (liberal) party get together to prepare for a presidential race.

College Republicans of Vanderbilt University (221): Vanderbilt University is a private (and therefore more expensive) school in Nashville, Tennessee. Its location in the South and its price tag would both mark it as being more conservative.

Cage match (221): A type of wrestling match that takes place inside a steel cage; the most common way of winning is by escaping the cage, usually by climbing over the top.

Paul Ryan (222): A conservative retired politician and former Speaker of the House.

The Second Amendment (222): The second amendment grants Americans the right to bear arms (have guns).

Salon (222): An American news and opinion website with a politically liberal editorial stance.

Air Force One (222): the president’s plane

“My Canadian girlfriend” (223): A running joke that someone (often a high schooler) whose partner goes to another school or lives somewhere else is made up.

Five Guys (225): Five Guys Burger and Fries is a popular fast food burger chain across the US.

Vampire Weekend (225): An American indie rock band.

The general (226): the general election in November, when Americans would vote for their president

Plainclothes (226): out of uniform

The Beekman (226): A very fancy hotel in Lower Manhattan, near the Brooklyn Bridge.

NATO (233): the North Atlantic Treaty Organization; an intergovernmental military alliance between 29 North American and European countries.

----

*every time I read this, I flinch just a little bit. Baroque architecture is just... so much, and the concept of a Baroque bed when beds/bedrooms are supposed to be simple to help you rest... It’s just so much and I hate it with all of my being. I’m sorry if you like Baroque furniture, but especially for Henry, who dreams of a simple life where he can just write and be anonymous... It’s a big yikes.

** Literally no one asked, but his stuff is just... it’s so boring? Like I’m sure it’s great to fall asleep to or calm down to, but I tried to listen to it while I wrote this and I just couldn’t. Liszt is better, but he’s no Mozart. Also? Mozart wrote BOPS. ONLY. “The Birdcatcher’s Song” slaps and no one can change my mind on that.

----

If there’s anything I missed or that you’d like more on, please let me know! And if you’d like to/are able, please consider buying me a ko-fi? I know not everyone can, and that’s fine, but these things take a lot of time/work and I’d really appreciate it!

—–-

Chapter 1 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 9

#rwrb study guide #English Major Brain™#English Major Brain™️#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb analysis #analysis #red white and royal blue analysis #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry fox mountchristen windsor x alex claremont diaz #alex claremont diaz #FirstPrince #june claremont diaz #bea fox mountchristen windsor #pez okonjo #nora holleran

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