#Henry's powers are depicted as Future Vision

[knightmareaceblue]

The Amazonian Amethyst.

Since being stolen from its rightful owners by the tyrannical Queen Empress, no one has seen this legendary gemstone. Rumor has it that the Amethyst, like many lost treasures, was taken by the Queen Empress to her tomb, the Red Pyramid, from which no one had ever returned alive.

It'd make the perfect anniversary gift. When Charles of all people presents this plan to his partners, Henry and Ellie are completely on board. An anniversary adventure suits the Triple Threat more than some dinner date, anyways.

And nothing could possibly go wrong… right?

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Deep in the heart of an ancient jungle, far away from the modern comforts and conveniences of the human world, all was calm. The animals scurried and scattered about, out to hunt or gather for their next meal. The roaring rapids of a nearby river echoed through the tangle of trees, calling to creatures near and far to take their fair share of its fresh water and plump schools of fish. The songs of birds in the upper canopy competing to attract a mate completed the natural soundtrack of this ancient, majestic place.

Then, quite suddenly, the sharp mechanical buzzing of helicopter blades sliced through the melody of environment, causing the animals to scatter in fear of this strange new sound. At least one thousand feet above these scared grounds, three people, oblivious to their disruption, chattered excitedly amongst themselves.

“Man, doesn’t this bring you back?” Spoke the sole female of the group, a red-head named Ellie, who stared out at the jungle with a fond smile, her eyes soft with nostalgia. “Our first mission as the Triple Threat, flying over the Dogobogo Jungle to mess up the Toppat Clan’s day and send their rocket flying off into the sun.”

“Well, actually, Hen sent it to the Wall? But, you know, close enough.” Responded the pilot, one Mister Charles Calvin, who glanced back at her for only the briefest of moments before returning his focus to the wheel. His eyes scanned the canopy, searching for their destination, and a wide grin stretched across his face when he finally found it. “Whoa! Guys, you gotta check this out!!”

Henry, the final and most quiet member of the trio, raced over to Charles’ side first, Ellie hot on their trail. Their crimson eyes scanned the horizon, until they widened when they landed on the group’s destination: a gigantic pyramid, covered from top to bottom in green foliage as nature fought to overtake the ancient structure.

“There she is.” Ellie murmured, entranced by the sight, “The Imperial Tomb of the Queen Empress.”

“Exactly where my contact said it would be.” Declared the pilot, flicking switches and checking gauges as he prepared to descend. “According to him, the Amazonian Amethyst should be buried inside, along with the Empress. But everyone who’s ever gone searching for the tomb’s hidden treasure has mysteriously vanished~” The change of tone from Charles was accompanied by an amused smirk, almost as if daring fate to try and do the same to them. “So no one’s ever found the amethyst hidden inside. Which means it’s all ours for the taking.”

With a sharp squeal, Henry’s arms wrapped tightly around Charles’ shoulders, and they nuzzled their head into the side of Charles’. “This is the best anniversary gift ever.” Henry declared, and Charles felt his heart flutter.

When accepting the Airship mission so long ago, Charles hadn’t expected to fall in love with a criminal mastermind, let alone two of them. But exactly one year ago today, under the gentle light of the moon, Henry had taken both their hands and proclaimed their love to the heavens. The year that had followed had been the adventure of a lifetime; it hadn’t been without its challenges, but ultimately Charles had never been happier. The two standing behind him were his heart and soul made manifest. Of that, Charles was certain.

Of course, Charles’ love didn’t equate to ignorance of who, exactly, he was dating. By the time the government had picked them up for the Airship mission, Henry had become somewhat infamous for their prison break and theft of the Tunisian Diamond, and Ellie was in a similar position, living an outlaw’s life for various crimes she’d committed with a previous gang. And while they’d turned over a new leaf, partially for the benefits but mostly for Charles, it was clear that the transition to a clean cut lifestyle was… difficult, to say the least.

Thankfully the majority of what they craved, the action and adventure and excitement, was quelled by the missions they went on to save the world from whatever bad guy of the week dared to think they could stand up to the Triple Threat. However, the other addictive quality of their criminal lives – the material gains, the glitz and glamour of wealth that people like them could only get through illicit activities – that was another story entirely. Charles couldn’t count the number of times he’d had to drag Henry away from a display of shiny jewelry, or watch Ellie gaze longingly at the security trucks stores used to transport cash. He knew the two of them would never go behind his back to return to their old ways – he trusted them. But it was obvious even to him that they still missed it.

So, when their anniversary began to approach, Charles devised a plan. He’d preemptively gotten them a full two week’s vacation, scoured the dredges of the library and uncovered a lost treasure: The Amazonian Amethyst. A rare, large, and highly valuable purple gemstone that was said to have been stolen from its rightful owners by the very Queen Empress who was buried below them. She had taken many treasures with her to the grave, and for their anniversary, Charles had made all the arrangements necessary for them to go hunt it down. He’d rented a non-government helicopter (none of the bells and whistles he was used to, but the leather seats were a hell of a lot more comfortable than the ones from his usual bird), made sure they had all their paperwork and supplies, and took his two loves deep into the heart of the jungle on a death defying adventure to technically-not-steal a large amethyst from a long dead tyrant.

Maybe not entirely on the up and up, as far as legality went, but seeing the looks on Henry and Ellie’s faces when he told them his plan was totally worth the huge risk.

As their helicopter descended, Ellie scurried about, grabbing any last minute supplies she could get her hands on and tossing them into her personal inventory for later use. Simultaneously, Henry yanked open the door to the helicopter and hopped out as it landed, surveying the area with experienced precision. A practiced hand signal alerted their partners that the coast was clear, and Charles and Ellie soon hopped out after them. Inventories fully equipped, limbs stretched, and helicopter secured, the infamous Triple Threat made their way into the maw of the pyramid, eagerly chasing the adventure it promised.

Behind them, the song of the jungle stilled too suddenly, leaving only the increasingly loud crunch, crunch, crunch of plants being crushed.

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“Yo, check this place out!” Charles exclaimed as the trio stepped into the main hall. The smile on his face stretched from ear to ear, and Henry could practically see the stars in his eyes as he shook his fists in excitement.

Not that Henry could fault his sunshiny enthusiasm. The main hall was adorned with very ornate murals, each one portraying the Queen Empress throughout her life. From her miraculous birth, with light shining down on her from the heavens; to her childhood of objectively being better than everyone; to the worship of her citizens, despite the blood lust that lead her to raid and pillage and steal from weaker kingdoms near and far. The blatant narcissism on display was staggering. The shiny gems that were used in place of her pupils, however, made Henry’s fingers twitch.

Of course, they wouldn’t settle for those little pebbles. Charles had picked a gem especially for them. Henry was going to get their hands on it if it killed them.

“According to the notes from the last expedition…” Ellie flipped through her notebook pages casually, even as she sidled up to one of the murals and plucked out a shiny blue stone. Unlike Henry, she didn’t mind easy pickings. “In the 1950s, geez… this first area is relatively safe. It’s where the Queen’s followers were expected to bring offerings of food and drink to their Eternal Queen.” Ellie’s eyes, full and bright like the full moon, scanned over the entire room. “Given how open this place was, though, it was probably all eaten by animals.”

Henry openly scoffed. “Wanna bet the people in charge used the missing food as ‘proof’ that the Empress really was there?”

In response, Ellie only shook her head. The trio walked along, making light conversation up until they reached the end of the hallway. The doorway between the Offerings Hall and the rest of the tomb contained a final masterpiece: the Queen Empress, in all her regal glory, being called into heaven by the gods themselves in the same radiant light that had shone upon her at birth. It’d be poetic, if Henry didn’t find it so nauseatingly self-serving. Whoever the woman was, she tried incredibly too hard to portray herself as a literal gift from the gods.

More importantly, the entrance to the tomb was stuck shut. “Notes said it was sealed after the last expedition,” Ellie explained, shutting the book in her hands. “Probably so no more idiots would get themselves killed trying to get that big treasure.”

“Well, they clearly hadn’t counted on these idiots!” Charles proclaimed, pulling the two of them close so he could point his fingers down at the trio, as if that was supposed to be a compliment. Still, he wasn’t entirely wrong. Idiots though the three may be, this wouldn’t even be close to the toughest thing they’d tackled. The three of them? They got this. First they just had to find a world in which they got this stupid door open.

Should they Force it open? No, that probably wasn’t a good idea. Ellie’s powers were strong, sure, but they could be too strong at times. Using just the right amount of Force would require extreme concentration. Henry could see the future play out before their very eyes; Ellie’s powers would pry the heavy door away from the wall bit by bit, pulling at the melted welding keeping it in place until it finally broke free. They’d celebrate for a moment, just a second, before the door would hit all three of them, knocking them back and out. Apparently, there was such a thing as too much force. Who knew?

So that was a no go.

What about some controlled demolition, then? Somehow that seemed like an even worse idea. They would manage to knock down the wall surrounding the door, sure. It was just a matter of applying enough force to remove the stones. Then the whole ceiling would crash down around their ears, their universe ending in a single cosmic crunch. Of course it would. Henry had the luck of a black cat zooming underneath a row of ladders while crushing mirrors underneath its claws. And besides, it was Remodeling 101: You never destroy a load-baring structure.

“You know, we could always just teleport past it.” Ellie teased with a quirk of her lip. This caused an instinctual full body shutter from Henry at just the thought of that infernal contraption. Though they’d never used the device in their own world line, the aches and pains of its future malfunctions still radiated across their skin, a phantom pain from a wound that never was and always had been.

Future sight was a real bitch sometimes.

With an annoyed pout, they scolded her, “Don’t even joke about that.” Henry could see the amusement on Charles’ face as he joined Ellie with an elbow propped on her shoulder, and tried not to scowl. Ellie and Charles took their concerns seriously – Neither of them had ever doubted their future sight even once– but the two weren’t above teasing their beloved about the borderline paranoid raving they could go on. “In fact, new rule from now on: No more bringing the teleporter. It always backfires.”

“So that means we won’t get to see you make that cute pouty face whenever you pull it out of your bag anymore?” Teased the pilot, a grin as bright as the sun stretching along his face. He didn’t even look a little sad at the idea of Henry no longer being burdened by the infernal plaything of cruel fate that was the Teleporter.

“What a shame.” Ellie joked right alongside him. In terms of acting, she was a little better, in that she managed to look a little disappointed at the thought. But her eyes shone like the moonlight, letting her true feelings be known to those who could read her.

All the annoyance melted away at their expressions, and Henry tried not to let this show as they rolled their eyes and spun around to dig through their inventory. “Yeah, yeah. Give me a moment, I think I have something here… aha!”

Henry triumphantly pulled their prize from their inventory’s storage: a blowtorch, which Henry immediately lit up before their red-headed girlfriend dropped a protective mask down over their face. Pausing only to give her a brief thumbs up before going to town, they traced the outlines of the sealed metal entrance and slowly but surely began to destroy the fused sections between door and wall, allowing for the door to be effortlessly removed. Henry turned around and bowed to their sun and their moon, gesturing dramatically to guide them through the newly created hole in the ruin. Ellie, proper woman that she was, bowed back as she passed, her eyes reflecting the mirth Henry felt. And Charles, ray of sunshine that he was, gentle tapped Henry’s nose with a soft boop before all but skipping through the doorway.

They could be walking into death, sure. After all, no one had seen the interior of the pyramid and survived. Despite these terrible odds, Henry couldn’t help but feel at ease. After all, they were already capable of the impossible alone. With Ellie and Charles by their side, they were all but invincible.

Behind them, an ominous shadow shadow spread across the stone cold floor.

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The Triple Threat were greeted by a long, long hallway on the other side of the sealed doorway. It stretched onward and onward, shadows obscuring the pathway and all its secrets. The only lights came from the dull blue luminescence of the blue spheres embedded into the walls. There were more murals, Henry was certain, but their pictures were obscured by the darkness the entire corridor was draped in.

A darkness that was suddenly slashed through by a beam of light, courtesy of Charles. Now they could make out the plain, cold stone floor, the elaborate detailing on the wall portraying some myth long since lost to the age, the arches on the ceiling that provided the support needed for the heavy stone structure. There were no traps to be seen; no buttons, no spikes, no glowing eyed accursed beast doomed to wander these twisted hallways forever. It looked perfectly safe.

Naturally, Henry didn’t trust it.

Apparently Charles didn’t share this suspicious sentiment, because with a chipper, “Welp, let’s get moving!” He bound forward a few steps, and Ellie and Henry grabbed him and pulled him back just in time to avoid a long and dangerous drop down a pit of spikes.

“Watch your step, dumbass.” Ellie scolded, her hand tight around Charles’. In the meanwhile, Henry quickly checked him over. They’d been quick enough to catch him in this world (Future sight was a bitch), but better safe than sorry when it comes to mysterious ancient ruins and their many traps. And tetanus.

For his part, Charles seemed more embarrassed than scared. “Whoops.” He chuckled nervously as Ellie and Henry, now that they were done making sure he was really okay, crossed their arms and shot him matching glares, flat and unimpressed. “My bad. Sorry, guys.”

“Sheesh.” Ellie uncrossed her arms. On the outside she looked calm and composed, but Henry knew her well enough to see the slight tension in her face, or the way eyes kept darting to view the area behind Charles, as if expected another trap to jump out of nowhere and blot out the sun. “You’re going to be the death of us, I swear.”

With Charles’ near death experience out of the way, Ellie picked up a small pile of loose stones near the side of the passageway and began tossing them, one after the other. With each stone tossed, a section of the floor collapsed underneath the weight, revealing a pitfall that went down for meters. At the bottom, cascading off the floor, were subtle buttons that could only barely be made out in the dark, and entirely less subtle rows of spikes. A ghastly smell rose as the floor fell: a noxious fume of decay and rot that told them, even before Charles’ torch revealed the scatterings of bones both human and otherwise, the fates of all those whom had entered beforehand. An ominous rattling echoed up through the chamber as the light awoke various species of serpents lying in slumber in between the spikes, scattering quickly to hide around the buttons with their tails resonating dangerous warnings about disturbing them further. As the light continued to travel upward, the trio could make out tiny little holes in the walls, just large enough for any number of potentially poisonous instruments to fly or jut out, all the way from the bottom of the pit to the very top of the ceiling.

Now, if this had just been Henry, then they’d use a grappling hook to fly across the chasm, no problem. Or maybe create a platform with something nearby. But it was more than just Henry they were worried about today, and the ceiling was far too old and decrepit to hold all of them if they swung across. And the ruins were far too precarious to support the weight of three people. They’d collapse into the pit, get impaled on the spikes, and that would be the end of the Triple Threat’s story.

Despite the impending death of their loved ones, it struck Henry as more lame than terrifying.

What Henry forgot, of course, was that they were flanked by two equally competent (and equally crazy) partners, and Charles’ face suddenly lit up as he pushed his two partners behind him. “Don’t worry,” He smirked back at them confidentially, “I got this.”

Ellie and Henry were, naturally, extremely worried.

Without any further warning, Charles bolted forward. Henry’s panicked attempt to grab him and pull him back to safety was narrowly dodged, and Ellie’s call to halt was similarly ignored. Upon reaching the edge of the pit, Charles bent his legs down and sprung over it with an admittedly impressive leap, but one with nowhere near enough force or air to make it to the other side of the hazardous chasm.

Ellie gaped like a fish, her eyes following Charles with all the horror of witnessing an impending wreck. Henry winced and somehow managed not to look away.

Just as he reached the peak of his jump, Charles tossed a grenade down into the pit trap. The explosion was instantaneous, almost completely silent, and… purple? A cushion of purple gelatin arose from the torturous trenches, and Charles landed perfectly in it’s center with a boi-oing that echoed through the pyramid. And he bounced. Once. Twice. Each time a joyous laugh escaped Charles, loud and carefree despite the precarious perils underneath him.

A few bounces later – to test the durability of the gelatin or just for his own amusement, Henry couldn’t say – Charles leapt forward again and launched another grenade. He bounced off the cushion it produced and threw another, and another, until there was purple, bouncy path to the other side of the hazardous chasm. He finally, finally landed on the solid ground of the other side, and as he steadied along with Henry’s heartbeat, Charles turned around and tossed his partners a double thumbs up.

Henry stared after him, slack jawed. Words failed them completely.

Ellie, who had always managed to find the words that eluded Henry, commented, “That dumbass is going to get us killed one of these days.” Her voice was steady and strong, but a slight twitch of the eye betrayed her inner anxiety.

“Well? Come on!” Charles, whose ability to read the room was about on par with his risk assessment skills, called across the chasm, “The Amazonian Amethyst ain’t gonna come to you, slowpokes!”

Despite themselves, a grin stretched across Henry’s face. Now that the initial scare had passed, they found themselves more amused than upset. None of the Triple Threat were the cautious type to begin with – cautious types wouldn’t rob tombs, after all – and the heart attacks weren’t anything new, especially in their profession. So, only pausing to shrug at Ellie, Henry followed in Charles’ footsteps and leapt down into the pit of spikes.

They hit the mass of purple dead center, and was surprised to find that it was not at all sticky or mushy, as would be expected of gelatin. Instead it was soft and smooth, the same texture as a rubber exercise ball, with enough strength to hold their weight while standing firm against the spikes. An almost childlike joy came over Henry as they bounced up and down with loud, echoing boings, flipping and posing like they’d seen trampoline artists on the television do, before finally moving forward on the playful path Charles had created for them.

Behind them, Henry could hear Ellie bounce along as well. Her squeals were surprised and nervous at first, but quickly faded into the more melodious sounds of delight and enjoyment. A million ways to tease their moonlight popped into Henry’s head, but for the moment they simply enjoyed the sound of her unrestrained elation and focused on bouncing from one cushion of violet gelatin to the next, putting their signature style into every leap.

Henry hit the ground next to Charles hard, face first. Ellie landed much more gracefully, on one foot and one knee. She was up before Henry could even get to their knees, and by the time they were back on their feet she’d reached Charles and socked him in the arm. Not hard enough to hurt him, but not quite soft enough to be playful, either.

“Hey!” Charles flinched back a little, rubbing his arm. “What was that for?”

Ellie raised a brow at him. “You mean besides the heart attack you gave us when you jumped into a pit of spikes?”

Comprehension dawned on Charles’ sweet, stupid little face. “Oooh… yeah, I can see what you mean. Uh… whoops?” This earned him another hit, slightly more playful this time. “Okay, okay! I’m sorry, alright? I just wanted to show off for you guys.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” Ellie muttered with a glower, but no force in the world could stand up to Charles’ puppy dog eyes, so it wasn’t long before she was fighting a smile as he pouted up at her. “Okay, I forgive you. Just… no more throwing yourself into death pits please?”

“I won’t.” Charles promised, rewarding Ellie’s mercy with a sweet nuzzle and a gentle kiss. “’M sorry.”

Henry watched the tender moment play out between them, transfixed on their two loves from the sidelines, when Charles’ arm suddenly stretched the distance between them. It didn’t reach all the way to Henry, didn’t so much as brush against their skin, but Charles’ hand was open, invitation clear for Henry to accept at their leisure.

“I scared you too, didn’t I?” Asked the pilot, almost rhetorically. “Sorry, Hen.”

Affection flooded Henry’s heart, filling it full enough to burst, as they reached across the distance between them and took Charles’ hand. This was why he was their sunshine; Charles didn’t always have enough awareness to recognize his screw ups (and Henry had the phantom scars of worlds never lived to prove it), but when he did, he always approached them with complete compassion and understanding. He gave them each what they needed; Ellie a laugh to calm her nerves, and Henry the choice of contact and comfort, instead of startling them with a sudden touch they weren’t ready for. Henry relished in his light, the same light that brought the hope of daybreak to the hearts of two darkened criminals.

Instead of voicing their appreciation aloud, Henry accepted the unspoken invitation and allowed Charles to pull them close, peppering their faces with sweet little kisses, causing them to giggle. With his apologies accepted, Charles released his partners and the three turned around to face their next challenge, together.

Another door. Stone this time, a dark and heavy slab that sealed them off from the interior of the pyramid.

“Something tells me we’re not going to blowtorch our way through this one.” Ellie mused, then smiled as she added, in a light, airy voice, “Oh, if only we had some sort of device that could displace us through space and time to get us past this impossible obstacle!” She dramatically flung her hand over her forehead.

Charles tittered dramatically as he played along. “What a shame. Looks like we’ll have to go home without the Amethyst.”

“Knock it off.” Henry scolded, unamused. “Besides, who needs a Teleporter when you’ve got a…” They ruffled through their inventory until they found their prize, and triumphantly pulled out a... “Tire Jack!”

“Tire jack?” Echoed Ellie and Charles behind them, identical looks of confusion adorning their faces.

“Tire Jack.” Henry repeated one final time without elaboration, before dropping to their knees in front of the door. This little baby was a thief’s dream – unassuming, easy to carry, and absolutely perfect for doing things like prying open doors, or… whatever else a tire jack was used for. Henry fitted it to the stone slab, then pumped down once… twice… three times… and managed to create a crack just large enough for the three of them to squeeze through, one at a time.

Ellie nodded in understanding. “Ah. Tire jack.”

“Ooh, ooh! Me first!” Charles called as he ran at door. Henry managed to jump back just in time to avoid being bowled over by Charles’ power slide as he launched himself underneath the door’s crack.

All poor Henry and Ellie could do was gape after him, before Ellie shook her head and mumbled, “Going to be the death of us,” before following suit. Henry crawled underneath the door after them, leaving the chamber in silence.

…

Boing. Boing.

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Somehow, the chamber they entered after crawling under the door was even darker than what came before. None of the rooms allowed for any sunlight to penetrate the densely packed stones, but at least the previous chambers had the dim glow of the luminescent blue stones on the walls to provide a little bit of light. In this room, however, even that minuscule bit of illumination was absent, leaving Henry and their partners shrouded in complete darkness.

“Eugh, I can’t see a thing.” Ellie summarized, her voice echoing just enough to let Henry know that this was a large, spacious chamber. Her call acted as a beacon, drawing both partners’ attention over to the little corner of the dark expanse where she must have been. “Charles, a little light, sweetheart?”

“Huh?” Either to preserve battery life or to keep from smacking anyone in the eyes with the beam of his torch, Charles had shut it off at some point. The reminder from Ellie, however, caused him to audible scramble to pull it back out. “Oh, right, yeah! I’m on it-!”

The clacking of plastic against stone echoed through the chamber once, twice, three times as the torch hit the ground and bounced away. Then silence.

“…” Henry couldn’t see a damned thing, but they could practically feel Charles wince. “Uh, Yeaah… I’ll, uh, I’ll just…” Shuffling fabric could be heard, followed by a repetition of slap, slap, slap against the cold stone floor as Charles fumbled around. “I’m sure it’s, uh, around here somewhere… Hehe…”

Then, stone sliding against stone. Followed by a painfully loud click.

Henry only had a brief moment to brace themselves for whatever barrage of arrows or spikes or fire was about to kill them dead. Instead, an explosion of white began searing their retinas, forcing their eyes closed and their arms up to defend against the sudden barrage. To their side, Henry could hear Ellie grunt in pain, and the sounds of Charles crawling around had disappeared entirely. Time eased the burden of their pain, their eyes adjusted, and Henry lowered their arms and gazed out into the now lit room.

What greeted their eyes was a circular chamber, far larger than the entrance or connecting chambers behind them, with sunlight pouring through the rooftop. Like the entrance, the walls were painted with spectacular images, icons that had long since forgotten their meanings and portraits of divine beings with names lost to time. Three tables – or, more likely, altars – were set up around the chamber, one underneath each grand portrait of the gods. The grandest of all, however, was that of the Queen Empress, recognizable even to Henry’s history ignorant mind. She was encircled by heavenly light while, to each of her sides, the Gods shifted their gazes unto her.

“Whoa!” Charles, having found the flashlight not three feet in front of him, quickly picked it up and got back to his feet.

“These are amazing!” Ellie gushed, eyes lighting up as she took in the ancient murals. Her aesthetic sense was certainly different from Henry’s – a little flashier, a little more on the romantic side – but her eye for art was second to none. “I wish I had a camera.”

Without even thinking, Henry pulled a disposable camera from their bag and held it up in front of Ellie’s face. It’s primary function was for note-taking and placing identical photos of crime scenes in front of security cameras, but even though they were technically done committing crimes, Henry had never removed it from their inventory.

“Oh.” Ellie blinked, then took the camera. “Thank you.”

“Is this the burial chamber?” Charles asked, then, as if that was a definite yes, excitedly changed the question to, “Is the Amethyst here?”

“I don’t think so.” Ellie responded as she took more and more pictures. The film in that thing wasn’t unlimited, but she’d probably document all she wanted to long before it ran out. “Given that there’s no actual tomb or body here, this is probably a temple of some sort, to honour the gods rather than her.”

To that, Charles and Henry exchanged a glance before gazing up at the image of the Queen Empress, who was larger and grander than any of the divine beings on the wall. “I’m, uh, not a theologist.” Charles said as he quirked an eyebrow at her. “But isn’t imagery like this, like, umm… what the word I’m looking for?”

“Blasphemous?” Henry suggested.

Apparently that was correct, because Charles nodded. “Yeah, that.”

To that, Ellie only shrugged. “Eh, who knows? Maybe having the gods revere you was an old form of worship?”

As they spoke, Henry surveyed the temple. Beyond the portraits and the skylight, the round temple was decorated with ornate columns and intricately carved altars, each adorned with various symbols that had lost their meanings to the flow of time. Their eyes went from mural to mural, from wall to wall, and as they scanned each corner of the chamber a cold feeling sank to the bottom of their stomach.

“Uh, guys?” Henry interrupted, getting Ellie and Charles’ attention. “There’s no exit.”

Indeed, the walls had many things painted on them, but none of them had a door of any sort beyond the entrance.

“Oh. That’s a problem.” Charles mumbled as he too began to look around. “Uh, are you sure this isn’t the burial chamber then?”

“Do you see a body anywhere?” Ellie retorted, then kicked at the ground. The interior of the temple, in the open area just underneath the skylight, was a large circular stone slab inlaid in the floor, again adorned with a symbol Henry didn’t understand. “We entered around the center of the pyramid. The burial chamber and treasure chamber are probably below us somewhere.” Ellie scratched her chin, gazing around, “Which means… to proceed we’ll have to…”

“Dig!’ Charles interrupted, triumphantly pulling a shovel from his inventory. Grinning, he posed to strike down at the stone ground, only to have the shovel nabbed away from him by Ellie.

She spun it in her hand as she shook her head. “Not exactly. There’s probably some mechanism in the room that opens the floor, the same way that button you found opened the skylight. We just have to figure out where it is.” She tossed the twirling shovel into the air, allowing it to whirl before she caught it with ease. “So, let’s start by investigating the room. Charles, see if you can find any more buttons on the floor. Henry, check out the pillars and walls. I’ll take a look at the altars.”

With their tasks divided up, the Triple Threat went about exploring the chamber. Charles dropped to his hands and feet, crawling about the floor like a hound dog sniffing for clues. Henry couldn’t help but smile at the ridiculously serious display before turning to the walls. Like the entrance, the iconography seemed to tell a story. A trickster, a mysterious being cloaked in shadows with a crooked smile, stealing from the gods and causing them to turn their wrath on each other. A divine clash breaking out, a battle of apocalyptic proportions with the trickster caught in the middle. A god of the sky defeated with a necklace, a god of the ocean defeated with song, a god of the mountains defeated with a seed. And the spirits, the innocent bystanders who had perished in the clash, being escorted by the trickster to a new paradise.

Huh. What an odd story.

Henry didn’t have much time to take it all in, however, as a sudden and triumphant, “Aha!” from Charles caught their attention. They turned to find him in front of one of the altars, grinning and rubbing his hands. “Found the button!”

Ellie had been investigating the altar on the other side of the room, but she somehow managed to reach Charles’ side before Henry had. The three of them started down at the button for a long time, contemplating the many, many ways this thing could kill them, before a shrug from Ellie gave Charles the go ahead. It gave a soft click as it depressed all the way.

The Triple Threat tensed, got into formation, and waited for the trap to spring.

And waited.

And… waited…

And there was no trap. Not even a little one. Henry almost felt disappointed.

“Huh.” Ellie mused, getting out of formation and pressing the button down with her foot. Again, nothing happened. “Okay, that’s strange… but maybe…” Ellie stroked her chin as she walked away to the next altar, testing the ground in front of it with her foot until she found what she was looking for and smirked triumphantly. “Ah ha!”

With the same cool confidence as always, Ellie let her foot fall onto another hidden button. It crumbled under her mighty strength, clicking into place neatly.

Henry could sense a pattern here. They quickly walked over to the other side of the room, to the unattended altar, and stared down at where they were certain, based on where Charles and Ellie were standing, that the final button would be. Should they press it? Do they dare risk their life on the mere chance that this button would open the passageway forward?

...Eh, screw it. Henry stamped down on the button hard.

A final click echoed through the chamber. All was silent for one moment, then two, then three. The silence was broken by a rumbling, small at first but then, gradually, getting louder and louder until the whole chamber was shaking. Shadows began to stretch and grow across the floor as stone eclipsed the skylight, slowly, steadily, until nothing but darkness remained.

Henry’s fingers itched. Their every muscle tingled, phantom pains from a world soon to be echoing across their skin, screaming at them to move, move, move-!

Fire burst forth from the symbol on the altar, giving Henry mere seconds to dodge out of the way before the gods could scorch them with divine retribution. Behind them, Henry could hear Ellie gasp as something heavy slammed down way too close to where they knew she was standing, and on their other side, sputtering and coughing and what sounded like a geyser.

Before they could even thinking of running to their partners’ aid, another pillar of fire sprouted up just next to Henry, setting the room alight with a dangerous orange glow. Then another. And another. For now Henry could dodge them, but the streams of fire were going off faster than faster. This was not a matter of if they got burned to a crisp, but when.

In the glow of the firelight, Henry could make out Charles, soaked head to toe, struggling to push against a strong spray of water that had him pinned. Ellie, on the other side, was only narrowly dodging giant stone pillars raining down on her.

“What kind of trap is this?” Henry snapped in frustration. “There wasn’t anything on the walls!” There couldn’t have been, not with those portraits. A button would stand out far too much.

As Charles was too busy battling a barrage of water, it was Ellie who replied. “I have no clue! The way the buttons were positioned – I thought it made sense-”

She sounded genuinely distressed, and that made Henry’s heart ache worse than anything. Ellie was their moon, their constant anchor in an ever-changing world, and they felt her distress as if it were their own. “Hey- hey- it’s okay.” Henry consoled. “If it helps, this is less stupid then, say, jumping out of a bag and directly into an alarm.”

“Yeah!” Charles had managed to keep the extreme stream of water at bay enough to finally contribute – or maybe he was just powering through it. Hard to say with him. “It’s just a little water… and fire… and some rocks… we got this! We’ll just, uh- um…”

As their sunshine rambled on, Henry could see something click in Ellie’s head. Her eyes widened, shimmering with reflected firelight. “Water… fire… and rocks- no, earth…” Ellie’s gaze traveled upward, to the eclipsed skylight. “Henry!” Her force powers kept the crushing stone pillars at bay while she pointed towards the tip top of the ceiling. “I need to get up there!”

Henry rolled out of the way of an incoming stream of fire. They didn’t have a lot of time. Inside their bag were a few things that could get Ellie away from the rocks and up towards the skylight, but what?

There was a pair of boots in Henry’s inventory that would allow for a super jump – just bend your knees and boom! Up you go. Of course, there were way too many ways for that to end horrifically. The flames that were one wrong dodge away from ending Henry were not the greatest source of light. All it took was too much force and Ellie’s head would crack like an egg against the tough stone ceiling. Or too little force, perhaps, and she would fall into one of the various traps spread across the chamber. It was unwise to leap before one could look, after all.

There was a wooden pole stashed away in there as well. One of those nice collapsible ones. Henry could toss it javelin style to Ellie and of course she’d catch it, she’s Ellie, and once she had it she’d go vaulting over the stone crushers keeping her trapped. The wood was very flexible after all, so it wouldn’t be a-

Wait, no. It was made of wood. Which meant, with Henry’s luck, they’d toss it to Ellie only for the trio to watch it be burnt to ash mid-flight. That would be a terrible way for the Triple Threat to burn out.

So, something that wouldn’t be destroyed by the fire, and something that she’d be able to control even under these poor lighting conditions. That left…

A silver chain glistened in the firelight, strong and fierce and far, far more fireproof then the wooden pole. The primary purpose of this thing was to lift and pull, and Henry couldn’t use it for much else. Ellie, however, was far more versatile, and that showed in her shining eyes as she caught the chain in midair, not even looking back at Henry as she did.

Ellie smirked, and Henry knew they were in for a good time.

She whipped the silver chain over her head and out to one of the many decorative protrusions on the rounded ceiling. It stuck firmly in place, and just before a crushing pillar could flatten her into pancake, Ellie launched into a wide swing. Fire licked at her feet and clothing as she came around to Henry’s side of the chamber, but she didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, she held one arm out wide to catch her partner as she swung past, and Henry gripped her hand for all it was worth. They continued their arc around the chamber, and Henry didn’t even need to be told to hold on to Ellie with one arm as they approached where the strong geyser of water had Charles pinned. Henry grabbed him by the collar and held him tight as the soaked pilot got his grip on Ellie.

“You guys okay?” Ellie called down to them, and Charles nodded while Henry gave her a thumbs up. “Awesome! Hang on tight, we’re going up!”

The arc of their swing widened and quickened, spinning them around the room again and again until they built up enough speed for Ellie to launch them towards the spot where the skylight would be. The air rushed past them as they flew upward. Ellie released one hand from her chain, reaching towards the stone covering. They inched closer, and closer…

And something clicked as Ellie’s outstretched hand pushed in the final button.

Below them, the traps disappeared as quickly as they had activated. The fire stopped. The stone crushing pillars retreated back to their spots hidden in the ceiling. The stream of water sputtered to a halt. The trio landed back on solid ground just as the skylight began to open again, illuminating the temple with sparkling sunlight. Just behind them, the ground rumbled and shook before opening up to reveal a spiral staircase into the unknown depths.

“Woo-hoo!” Charles cheered. The fabric of his clothing was drenched and worn from the pressure of the water that had trapped him earlier, but Charles hardly paid it any mind as he threw his arms around his partner. “Way to go Els!”

“That was so cool!” Henry gushed, piling into her from the other side to keep her sandwiched between them. With her two loves surrounding her, Ellie was able to wind down a little, her shoulders relaxing and her smile widening to expose cute dimples on each side of her mouth.

Ellie giggled in response to their compliments. One of her arms snaked around Henry’s waist while the other latched around Charles’ shoulders. “It wasn’t a big deal.” She shrugged, mock bashfulness on her face even as she reveled in their praise. “I just figured, once Charles said that thing about fire and water and stone, that the traps were based on the elements, and from there it wasn’t hard to figure out that there was another button on the skylight.”

“Still! That was AWESOME!” Charles eyes practically sparkled with delight. “The way you tossed that hook and just-” Charles paused to lift both Ellie and Henry off the ground. He was strong enough to do so, but only barely, leaving Ellie squealing and Henry clinging on for dear life. Charles spun as he continued to recount the events that they’d just lived through, thank you very much.

When Charles finally put them down, Henry took the opportunity to link their fingers with Ellie’s, bringing a softer expression to her face. “Seriously. You were amazing.”

Ellie met their eyes. Those purple orbs seemed to glow softly in the sunlight, reflecting every feeling she couldn’t say. All her worry, her joy, her excitement, her pride, her love… she could spill it out in a thousand words like Charles, but that was never her style. She showed her love in her actions, in her worried fussing, in the look in her eyes as she watched after the two of them.

Henry squeezed her hand a little tighter, relishing in her tender gaze.

“-and then you landed perfectly!” Having finished his little tirade, Charles gazed back at the two of them, and his entire demeanor seemed to soften when he noticed their intertwined hands. “So, yeah. That was super cool.”

“It was.” Ellie agreed finally. She gave Henry’s hand a final squeeze before pulling away to jog lazily towards the newly revealed stairwell. “Now come on! We’re so close to the amethyst I can practically taste it!” Charles chased after her, laughing, and Henry followed suit down the long set of spiral stairs. Darkness waited below, but for now they had the beam of light from the opening directly overhead, granting them safe passage. As they descended, the air cooled; from Henry’s limited experience, the jungle was never anything but unpleasantly humid, so it was a nice change of pace. They zoned out as they walked: listening to Ellie and Charles discuss what might lie ahead, feeling the cool air grant their skin sweet relief from the awful heat, seeing the shadows grow across the ground below them, smelling the old musk of trapped air rise-

Henry blinked and looked back down at the ground below the skylight. The rays hit the ground uninterrupted, illuminating the old stones for the first time in centuries. They then looked upward at the skylight, seeing it clearly, without any sort of obstacle that could cast a shadow. But Henry could have sworn…

No, it was just their paranoia acting up again. Henry exhaled deeply and continued onward.

--------------------

The spiral staircase went down a long, long way, extending past what Henry thought would be the bottom of the pyramid. When they finally reached the end, the Triple Threat found the passageway as dark and foreboding as the ones upstairs before the skylight. They had Charles’ torch, but even its beam could only extend so far. Down below the surface the air was cooler but stale, and the walls, while thick and beautifully crafted, had no more stories to tell. Instead a pattern of intricate molding and paneling lead their way to the depths of the tomb.

The silence between them was deafening as each member of the Triple Threat prepared, in their own way, for whatever traps might lay ahead. As it turned out though, the largest trap they had to worry about was the architecture. Each pathway ended with a split in two directions. All it took was two turns for Henry to realize just how lost they could get in this convoluted maze. Luckily, their partners had a solution.

“It’s the same system we use when gaming together.” Charles explained as he scribbled on a piece of notebook paper. “We’ll make a map as we go, and mark shapes into the walls so we don’t get turned around.” As if to demonstrate, Ellie marked an o with a line through it right next to a clear dead end, and Charles made a corresponding mark on the map. “I don’t mean to ah, brag or anything, but we’re basically professional cartographers at this point.”

As if to demonstrate their prowess, Charles turned and proudly presented the map, which was just a jumble of lines with random symbols on it to Henry. Still, they gave the two an approving thumbs up.

So the trio marched on. This section of the pyramid wasn’t necessarily difficult, given that the traps were all laughably easy to dodge, but it did drag on a bit. The labyrinth was designed to confuse and entrap any enterprising thieves, and perhaps it would have successfully diverted one on their own.

Good thing these thieves came in a set of three.

At some point they reached a long sloping hallway, stretching so far forward that Charles’ flashlight could not even illuminate the far wall. The scent of upcoming danger wafted in the air, causing a mixture of anxiety and excitement in the trio. Charles got the privilege of leading the way due to his incredible skill of remembering to bring a torch, but Ellie and Henry were not far behind.

“Keep a sharp eye out.” Ellie warned as they crept down the long, long passageway. “There could be traps everywhere. Be prepared for anything-”

Click.

Henry looked down at their foot, and the slight indent in the floor from where they’d managed to step on a button. Whoops.

“What did I literally just say?” Ellie scolded, looking more annoyed than genuinely panicked. All Henry could muster in response was a sheepish grin.

The whole pyramid shook underneath their feet. Ellie and Charles, somehow, kept their balance, but Henry could not, and it was only after they’d fallen to the floor and were forced to look up that they saw the giant boulder cascading down towards them. They were up and running in an instant, and the screaming behind them told Henry their sunshine and moonlight were trailing behind them.

“Ah, Henry?” Charles called. His voice held a hint of nervousness – just a small touch – as he somehow managed to keep pace with the two thieves. “Now might be a good time for one of your tricks. You know, like that earthbending thing you can sometimes do-” Wouldn’t work. Henry’s skills weren’t strong enough to stop something that big in it’s tracks. They’d create a ramp to launch the blasted thing just above their heads and end up managing to crush the trio like a batch of gross pancakes. “-or maybe one of those Gizmo Gabe things you’re always carrying around-” Nah, Henry didn’t even need future sight to see where that would go wrong. Gadget Gabe (Charles never could get that name right) meant well, but their devices were… well, half-baked. The Float-O-Matic in their pack might get them away from the boulder, but it might also get them stuck to the ceiling with no hope of escape. No thank you.

“Or, you know,” Ellie yelled over the rumbling. Her voice was a little stressed, but also a little teasing, “We could teleport away from it!”

“Get bent!” Henry snapped back at her. “We don’t need that thing! It ALWAYS backfires!”

With that, Henry pulled out a sheet of paper, a canvas about the size of their body, and spun around to face the boulder head on. Ellie and Charles called out behind them, but Henry was singularly focused on the rock speeding at them at high speeds. The paper in their arms crinkled loudly as Henry waved it with both arms, as if airing out a towel, before dramatically bringing it up over their head. They waited for the boulder to get in to place.

Waiting…

Waiting….

Waiting… now!

The paper tore the boulder into tiny little shreds, sending shrapnel flying all around. Henry paid it no mind, driving the giant sheet of paper down further and further. It ground down the boulder until nothing but dust remained.

“See?” Henry looked back, speaking between deep breaths. Using that much force really took a lot out of a person. “We don’t need the teleporter.”

Ellie blinked stupidly at the display in front of her. “What- but- how did you-?!”

Dearest Charles, the only sympathetic party to her confusion, patted her gently on the back as he explained: “Paper beats rock. That’s just logic.”

“That only works in rock, paper, scissors!” Ellie cried out, frustrated. “That’s not how-”

She was shushed gently, and treated to one of Charles’ sunshiny smiles. “It’s Henry.” He said plainly, as if this explained what she’d just seen. “Don’t question it.”

As Henry passed her, listening to her frustrated grunting, they couldn’t help but smile. Mere moments after they disappeared into the darkness, the crackling and crunching of stone debris could be heard behind them.

--------------------

Finally, after long hours of trekking, after all the falls and traps and near death experiences that had protected the treasure within, the Triple Threat arrived at the grand entrance to the tomb. Before them stood a door at least as tall as the three stacked up. It was engraved with the Queen Empress’ visage, grand and imposing as she stared down at the mighty rats who dared steal from her precious tomb. Never one to do things by halves, the Mighty Empress had the door’s framing made of shining gold, which had Henry and Ellie salivating and Charles rolling his eyes. The torches that once illuminated the path to her final place of resting had been damp and cold far longer than any of them had been alive.

“You know,” Ellie looked up at the humongous image of the woman, as grand as she was tall, with crossed arms and thin lips, “I think this might be the burial chamber. Not sure why, but I just get that vibe, you know?”

Charles snorted. “I dunno, we’ve seen a lot of this woman plastered everywhere.”

“Good point.” Ellie agreed.

While they bickered and quipped, Henry took a good look at the grand entrance and stroked their chin thoughtfully. They pushed at the door and, to no one’s surprise, it didn’t budge. So they’d have to pull it open. A difficult task, without handles on a door more than twice Henry’s size, but Henry was a master of work smarter, not harder.

Except for that one time with the bank.

Or that other time with the prison.

Or… you know what? Henry was just going to drop this line of thought before they embarrassed themselves further.

Instead, Henry pulled a crowbar out of their inventory and wedged it carefully between the giant stone doors. Its lodging gave Henry the leverage needed to pry the door open, and the task was made easier when Charles and Ellie finally broke away from their banter to lend their strength. Together they succeeded, as they always did, and the door to the crypt opened with a gust of wind and a pungent odor. Rot and decay caused the trio’s eyes and noses to burn, but they pressed onward. Ellie, in a moment of practical brilliance, handed out air fresheners she’d stolen from the helicopter rental place. The scent of pine was too faint to completely block out the stench, but it provided a little relief.

The entire interior of the chamber was bathed in green light, illuminated by lines of shimmering green stone on the ground. Made from the same glowing material as the murals upstairs, it did such a good job of lighting up the joint that Charles was able to give his poor, overworked torch a well deserved rest. The lines ran up the walls, across the floor, in circles and in straight dashes across dark stone, revealing a room about as large as the temple above, and… largely empty. A few altars were placed in each corner beneath a mural, and in the center of the room was an unremarkable stone box which must have contained the queen’s body.

Charles echoed Henry’s thoughts exactly. “Wait, is this it?”

“Not seeing a lot of treasure here, Charlie.” Ellie remarked. She waltzed ahead to the stone casket, frowning as she mulled it over.

“No, wait, no!” Almost frantically, their poor pilot began zipping around the room, at this point uncaring of any traps he might uncover. “There has to be more! There’s no way this isn’t the place! Unless… they didn’t bury her with it? But that wouldn’t make any sense…!”

Henry idly pat Charles on the back while he spiraled over the misinformation. They were just about to tell him something along the lines of ‘It’s about the journey, not the destination’ (a useless platitude, but one that might make him feel better) when their eyes drifted to the wall behind one of the altars, to the large portrait of a god surrounded by mountains. The divine being’s eyes were blank, painted without pupils, but the rest of their body language – their stance, their expression, the scowl on their face – suggested pure, unbridled rage. Scanning the rest of the room, Henry found two more familiar figures along the walls near the other altars. The Ocean God and the Sky God, each gazing into the room with the same fury as the Mountain God.

Henry had seen this before.

While the fire and water and giant stones had been a very good distraction from what Henry had assumed was just a common legend immortalized upon the walls, they had still managed to take a good look before they’d been forced to move on. Three altars for three gods that had needed to be placated by a trickster.

Just as Ellie had made her way over to join them in comforting Charles, Henry left his side and made their way over to the Mountain God’s altar. How had the mural gone again?

A god of the mountains defeated with a seed. All Henry had on them that could satisfy that condition was some sunflower seeds that Charles had packed for snacking. Taking a breath and praying this wouldn’t get them all killed in some horrible way, Henry took one seed from the packet and dropped it on the altar.

The glowing lines on the floor suddenly shifted, spinning as the mural changed before their eyes. The angry god smiled down happily at the seedling on their altar, placated by the promise of new plants spreading across the mountains. Sounds of awe came from Ellie and Charles, but Henry paid their partners no mind as they struggled to recall the next image. The god of the sky, with storm clouds flooding the air around them and lightning a their fingertips, had been placated with a… piece of jewelry? A ring? No, that wasn’t right… a necklace…? Yeah, that was it.

While Henry had more than their fair share of fine accessories, they weren’t in the habit of bringing those accessories with them, on account of potentially losing them, or breaking them, or being electrocuted when the metal catches lightning or something. So instead of a nice, fancy necklace like in the mural above ground, all they could offer to the sky god was their employee badge from work, a little lanyard with a picture of Henry and a bar-code on it. Nothing like the ornate piece that was offered in the mural, but the sky god accepted it anyways. As before, the lines on the floor changed, transforming the image instead to that a pleased god with calm skies and a sunny smile.

That just left the final mural. The god of the oceans, vast and temperamental, plagued with storms and swells alike, glared down at Henry in clear rage. The last god was soothed with a song, Henry recalled. So how should they proceed?

Henry already knew singing was out of the question. Their throat was already sore from a day of mere conversational talking, and even beyond that Henry’s musical gifts did… not extend to their vocal chords. Breaking out into song would only shatter all their heads like glass. Hitting the high note was not among Henry’s many talents; Their B sharp would only fall flat.

So, instead, Henry produced a long out of date mp3 player from their inventory. How long had that thing been in there? Five years? Ten? However long it took for the once widespread piece of musical tech to become completely irrelevant. Of course, somehow, it still had a charge on it, and Henry’s grin only widened as a familiar hip hop tune, popular in whatever decade Henry had last bothered to update the thing, began thumping out, echoing sweetly in the large chamber.

Charles’ face lit up immediately, “Ooh, I remember this! Aw man, I used to sing this all the time when I was a kid!” As if to prove his point, Charles joined in with the next line. Much like Charles himself, the singing was a little clumsy, a little off note, but so sweet and so enthusiastic that you couldn’t help but bask in the warmth.

Ellie laughed along, reflecting Charles’ enthusiasm with her own uniquely charming mirth, and joined in on the singing. Her voice was elegant and refined, carrying the tune of the song far more easily than Charles’. Ellie would have never sung like this even a year ago, when they’d first started dating, too concerned with proving herself cool and reliable to her new comrades, even if she let her true self slip through once in a while. Now she was unafraid to really let her hair down, matching Charles’s silliness with unrestrained enthusiasm.

And, of course, they’d never leave Henry out. For even though Henry couldn’t sing, they were quite the dancer, and all it took was the gentlest pull of their sun and moon’s gravity for Henry to be sucked into their orbit. They spun and twirled and danced to the beat of the song, Henry guiding their partners through the motions of the rhythm. None of the Triple Threat paid any mind to the change in the green lines, or the appearance of a fourth mural as the beaming trickster appeared to create a fourth line of green luminescent light. It was only at the end of the song, when the trio were exhausted and laughing on the floor, did they catch the tail end of the changes in the room as the lid of the coffin retracted.

Henry exchange a look with their partners before approaching the open tomb. They expected a collection of withered bones and tattered clothes to be laid before them as they peered into the grave, but to their surprise what instead met their eyes was one final staircase.

“So this was a false burial chamber.” Ellie mused from behind them. “Sneaky. Verrrrry sneaky.”

“Hah!” Charles cheered, pumping an arm in celebration. “I knew there had to be more to it! No way my information was wrong!” The melancholy of his earlier disappointment had completely flipped on its head, leaving fierce determination in its place. “That treasure’s gotta be just up ahead! Come on, team! Final stretch!”

He extended out a hand, and it was almost without thought that Henry reached out to place their own atop it, followed swiftly by Ellie. Their eyes met, green and red and violet sparkling with the emerald light of the glowing stone lines surrounding them, and the Triple Threat nodded as they broke their huddle by launching their hands to the ceiling in one final show of commitment to their quest before charging down the secret stairs, energy renewed.

All the while unaware of the silhouetted form shadowing them, silently darkening the space behind them. The figure halted, watching and listening, before descending down after them with slow, tenacious steps.

--------------------

Darkness crept upward as the Triple Threat crept down. The ray of Charles’ torch, now beginning to fade in intensity after several hours of use, was the only source of light in the dank, shadowy crypt. Almost as unnerving as the darkness was the silence, the complete and utter cessation of any sounds other than their echoing footsteps. Tingling sensations traveled along Henry’s spine with each stride downward they took, muscles tensed as they awaited the next trap, the next emergency, the next big bad thing that would jump out from the pitch black nothing stretching ahead of them and their partners.

What instead greeted them was the sound of rushing water.

Each member of the team immediately jolted to a halt as their tired minds finally processed the sound, and once they did Henry spared a glance to first Ellie, right behind them with eyes blown wide, then Charles, whose jaw dropped so low it was practically on the floor. Caution thrown to the wind, the Triple Threat redoubled their pace, going as fast as they dared until they reached the end of the final descent. The bottom of the stairs lead to a hallway only a few meters long, its exit beckoning them with a rainbow of illuminated stones. Charles’ torch clicked off, but the light in the room didn’t diminish enough to hamper the quickened steps of the suddenly elated adventurers. Henry’s heart pounded harder, disbelief buzzing over their bones as hope built in their chest. Was this it? Did they make it?

The end of the hallway opened up, and Charles’ sharp gasp of shock and awe did more to express Henry’s feelings in that moment than anything they could have put into words.

The Queen Empress had built her final resting place atop an underground spring full of crystal clear water carving its way through the spacious cavern. Its forks and twists created small islands, upon each of which was a small mountain of captured treasures for the Empress to take into her next life. It felt like something out of a cheesy movie; piles of glittering gold coins and cups and whatever else the tyrant had managed to snatch away from their rightful owners, stretching so tall one almost couldn’t see over them to the rocky edges of the naturally formed cave. Henry took a few stunned steps forward, only noting the possibility of more traps after failing to be hit by any. A quick glance to their six showed that their partners were in similar states of awe, Charles oohing and ahhing and Ellie practically salivating over the piles of treasure.

With this much moolah, the Triple Threat would never have to work again… they could live in the lap of luxury, servants at their beck and call, all their wishes and desires fulfilled with only a snap of the fingers… diamond jewelry and name-brand furniture and private chefs and golden toilet seats and-!

“Aw man, this is so cool!” Charles chirped up behind Henry, knocking them out of their daydreams, wading across the one of the streams with a carefree swagger. “It must’ve taken years to get all this down here! How do you think they got it all down those stairs?”

Of course. Damned logistics. Well, Henry was certain they could get at least a good chunk outta here before their vacation was up. After they found their prize, of course.

At the center of the spring, surrounded by waterfalls and luscious cave flowers, was the Queen Empress’ sarcophagus. It was delicately carved, much more ornate and intricate than the fake sarcophagus upstairs, which made Henry feel silly for ever thinking that slab of lazily slapped together stone was the real tomb of such an egomaniac. And hovering above her coffin, the centerpiece of a grand chandelier dangling from the ceiling, was the Amazonian Amethyst, shimmering stunningly as light from the glowing stones that decorated the tomb reflected off of its brilliant surface.

“Beautiful…” Ellie whispered, walking ahead of Henry almost as if in a trance. Henry themselves hadn’t even realized they’d paused in a stupor until she overtook them, and then, well, it became a race. They playfully, not too hard, shoved Ellie to the side and bolted ahead, and of course she ran after them and shoved back even harder.

Somewhere behind them, Charles laughed. “Play nice, you two!” He called forward, no doubt fully aware that his demand would go unheeded.

The impromptu race took Ellie and Henry swiftly across the pathway through the spring, up the staircase and finally halting just underneath the chandelier. Now, how to lower it? Henry could just jump up and try to pull the gigantic gemstone loose, but something told them that they’d take the whole chandelier – and part of the stalactite it was dangling from – down with it, crushing both themselves and Ellie. Not the kind of bringing down the roof they were fond of. They could try and poke it loose with a stick or something, but it looked pretty wedged in there. It wouldn’t budge for quite a while, and them and Ellie would poke harder, and harder, until they’d used enough force to launch it into the air, where it’d fly up and up and then down and down and then hit their pilot in the head, knocking him out cold. Some anniversary present, eh Charles?

It was while Henry was skimming through their options that the sudden sound of metal clanking and clacking startled them into a jump. Their gaze darted around until it finally rested on Ellie, carefully lowering the chandelier on the opposite side of the sarcophagus with a smile and, once her eye caught Henry’s, a playful wink.

God, they loved this woman.

The chandelier came to rest atop the coffin. Henry and Ellie stood above it, and Henry didn’t need to look over at their moonlight to know that her eyes reflected the excitement as their own. They didn’t even need to speak; Henry pressed down on the chandelier with the full weight of their body while Ellie hopped atop the structure to pull at the amethyst.

“Come on,” She muttered to the gemstone stuck in the structure,” Come to mama.”

Her arms were quivering with the effort it took, but unlike Henry Ellie was strong, so with each pull it came a little more loose, then a little more… then more…

Until, with a pop, it was finally free. Ellie had been using so much force that she toppled off the chandelier and into Henry’s waiting arms.

She looked down at the gem, as if she couldn’t quite believe it was there in her hands, and then back up at Henry to begin laughing in sheer astonishment. “We found it,” She forced out between chuckles. Henry sauntered over to place their own hands underneath the gigantic gem, helping Ellie to support its weight. “We actually found it! Charles! Hey Charles!” Their guy, who had been distracted combing over the mountain of treasures, looked up at them and immediately his eyes popped out of their sockets. The expression had Ellie laughing even harder. “Aw, man, I can’t believe-”

Her mirthful tone was cut short by a bang.

Its echos thundered across the cavern, piercing Henry’s eardrums and stilling them instantly. There was no mistaking that sound, not for a trio of experienced adventurers like them. The sharp gasp that followed, however, was far scarier.

Henry and Ellie whipped their heads down to watch their partner gasp and stumble back, clutching at his leg, Without a second to spare Ellie dropped the gem and began sprinting back, and Henry followed swiftly after. They only halted when Charles’ fall to the ground was interrupted by a pair of large hands grabbing him and forcing him back on his feet. Streaks of red began running down Charles’ leg, staining his clothes, and as painful as it must have been for him to stand on his wounded leg, Charles’ only response was to bite his lip and glare up, past the muzzle of the gun shoved in his face, at the assailant now holding him hostage.

There was something familiar about this man, something that had a name dancing on the edge of Henry’s brain, but in their panic they couldn’t quite grasp it. Rather than try, Henry squared their shoulders and took a defensive stance, eyes darting around as they looked for options.

So far, nothing that wouldn’t get Charles killed.

“I don’t know who the hell you are,” Ellie addressed the attacker with a near business-like seriousness, only a hint of the rage Henry was sure she had bubbling within her lacing the words, “But if you drop the pilot now and begin running, I’ll give you five minutes to get out of here.” Swift as a hurricane gale, the sidearm Ellie always carried was in her hands, drawn and pointed at the assailant. She wouldn’t actually fire it, of course. She’d never risk hitting Charles-

(Which was why Henry hadn’t drawn theirs. With their bad luck, it’d misfire and put a hole clear through his skull.)

-but the attacker didn’t know that. Probably.

“Feh.” He scoffed, his red mustache twitching as his lips curled in disgust. “Ya don’ bother talkin’ about us, Henry?” The sheer resentment in his tone tickled something in Henry’s mind – a life they hadn’t lived, an alliance they hadn’t made, broken by a man they’d never met. If only they could put a name to the face…

Henry forced themselves to snap back to reality. Charles’ needed them in the now, they couldn’t afford to get lost in a life not lived.

“Or do you two actually not remembah me?” This time his embittered query was directed at Charles, which sparked an increasingly familiar protective fury in Henry’s chest, “Ya took everything I had, ruined my life, and ya can’t even be bothered ta remembah?!” As he went on, his voice got louder, his wrath colouring his words more and more, until he was screaming in Charles’ ear. Credit to their partner, Charles didn’t so much as flinch, the stern military composure that he almost never displayed finally being put to use.

That didn’t make it any easier to watch.

“If you’re so ticked about us forgetting,” Ellie quipped, the only clue that she shared Henry’s fear and fury hidden in the tenseness of her shoulders, “Then why don’t you remind us?

The call-out caused the bristling man to cool, at least somewhat. “Tch. It don’t actually matter a lick if ya know why ya need to die.” He pressed the muzzle of his gun into Charles’ neck, and their pilot, their sunshine, only grew colder and stonier in response. “Just that you do.”

He forced Charles to take a step backward, and in response to Ellie’s call of, “Wait, stop!”, he only aimed his gun at Henry and Ellie, forcing them to stop. His grip around Charles’ tightened to prevent escape in lieu of the gun threat; even if he hadn’t, the shot to the leg would’ve kept Charles’ from running.

“Oh, no, you two ain’t goin’ anywhere.” Growled the assailant. “This ol’ tomb is yours now. You’ll both die in this place. Not ‘im though.” Again, the gun’s tip rested against Charles’ skin. “’E’s my ticket to my next target. Can’t kill ‘em ‘til I get my ‘ands on that ringleader o’ yours.”

That one puzzled Henry a bit, but Ellie picked up on the clues faster. “You’re after the General.” She accused.

“Him,” The assailant proclaimed, and for just a moment Henry could see a flicker of red mechanical? light in one of his eyes, “’Is subordinates, ‘is witnesses… everyone who ‘ad a hand in bringing us down. I’m gonna get a little payback.”

Echoes of a voice across a timeline, a fight that never occurred, a betrayal from a man he never met… “Time fer a little payback!”

Without even thinking, Henry’s mind found the name amongst the fractures of futures that never were, and they whispered, “Right Hand Man.”

“So ya do remembah me.” He snipped. In this world, Henry had only really seen the man on the news, back when the Toppats were first being arrested, but he’d changed since then. His hair had grown far longer, his body thin from a diet of delicious prison slop, and his hat didn’t quite match up with the ex-con’s memories. But Henry felt stupid for forgetting what the man looked like, considering his impact in the alternate futures Henry had seen. “How flattering.”

“Know this guy, Hen?” Ellie asked, her brows furrowing at her partner. Henry tried not to think about what that could mean, or, with their mind fractured between timelines, how easily she could pull up memories from a world they weren’t as friendly in.

All they could manage was one word. “Toppats.”

“That’s what this is about?!” Charles exploded, breaking his stoic mask to glare at his captor. Henry’s silent prayers for him to shut up went unanswered, proving once again how the universe hated them, “Dude, we took down the Toppats, like, three years ago or something! You seriously couldn’t have found another clan to-?!”

Apparently this was what it took to offend the Right Hand Man, because he shifted his hold to grab at Charles’ hair and yank hard, causing a flinch of pain that made Henry’s arm hair stiffen. “I may need ya alive fer now,” He spat, “But if ya wanna keep that waggin’ tongue of yers, I suggest puttin’ a sock in it.”

Charles, thankfully, took that advice, even as he was forced to walk backwards on his injured leg. Everything in Henry was telling them to run after the Toppat cretin, to take back their Charles and make him pay for the damage he’d caused, but the gun barrel pointed at Charles’ face kept both them and Ellie painfully still. All they could do was watch as their sunlight was dragged away from them, leaving the duo stuck in the dark of the cavern.

“Dammit,” Ellie growled under her breath, We’ve got to-”

Once again, she was rudely cut off with a bang, this one much grander in scale. The cavern began to shake with the force of a small explosion set off from the very exit Charles and the Right Hand Man had just taken. Rocks began falling from the ceiling and, with growing horror, Henry realized that the Right Hand Man had intended to keep his promise: The exit was being sealed off. They would die here.

Ellie’s voice cut through the air with a sharp, “Henry, move!”

The exit seemed so far away, and the rocks were falling so fast. They wouldn’t make it. Not at the speed they were running at. Henry’s gut sank, and their mind raced as they peered desperately into the future.

A power slide wouldn’t get them enough speed. They’d make it just close enough for their foot to be crushed underneath the falling debris. Miles away from a home run.

Ultra speed shoes would make them go too fast, overshooting their target and burrowing through the staircase on the other side. That would cave in on top of them just as painfully as standing in the entrance would. And them without any power rings.

Time was slipping away. Fast. Soon the clock would run out, and they’d be trapped, and Charles would be- Charles would-

There was one other option. A change for escape that was just fast enough to get one of them out before the passage was sealed off. Without warning Henry grabbed Ellie’s hand, ignoring her sharp shriek as they spun around once, twice, three times… before tossing her like a hammer. Ellie barely had enough time to brace herself as she flew just underneath the falling the rubble, making it to safety on the other side before the final stones fell, sealing off the tomb completely.

A sigh of relief escaped Henry.

From behind the pillar of rubble, Ellie’s voice cried out. “Henry?! Henry!! Henry, are you there?!”

“I’m here!” They called, moving more swiftly towards the barrier between them and the outside. “I’m okay, I promise! Now get out of here!”

“What?! But you-!”

“Have air and water.” Henry cut her off. “I’ll be find until you can send for help. But Charles is alone with that psychopath. He needs you far more than I do right now.”

There was a pause from the other side, but no sound of Ellie moving away, so Henry kept silent until they finally heard her, “I’m coming back for you.” She promised, her voice carrying a rare sense of desperate seriousness. “I promise, I’m not going to abandon you here. No matter what happens.”

Ah, of course. Their Rose, their shimmering light in the dark, had been chewed up and left for the cops by some previous associates. If there was one thing she’d never joke about, it was betrayal. “I know.” They told her with all the trust in their heart, and they hoped that was enough for her. “Now go get our boy and show that Toppat jerk just who he’s messed with.”

“Okay.” Ellie agreed, her footsteps audible even through the debris. Then they fell silent. “I love you.” Her voice called back, and before Henry could respond Ellie was sprinting off into the distance.

Though their was no way their quiet voice could reach her, Henry whispered back, “Love you too, Moonlight.”

They continued listening through the rubble, Ellie’s footsteps becoming quieter and quieter until, finally, the only sound remaining was the babbling of the underground river, slowly flowing by. With no way to follow after their two loves, all Henry could do was drop to the ground, releasing the tension within them into a heavy sigh.

There was nothing they more they could do at this point. As well stocked as they kept their inventory, they’d somehow failed to think they’d need to bring any sort of mining equipment. Forcing their way out was out of the question. And while they could follow the underwater streams, there was no way of knowing how far the channel traveled before emptying itself outside – if it did at all. There was just as likely a chance of Henry finding a flooded cavern, and while they could swim reasonably well, they were far from a seasoned diver. The safest option was to wait for Ellie to save Charles and return to rescue them.

If she managed to catch them at all, a traitorous part of their brain whispered. Henry swallowed thickly around the familiar dryness in their throat.

Instead of dwelling on the what ifs and the fight no doubt going on above, Henry tried instead to focus on the positives, what few they could find. Right Hand Man’s explosion had only been large enough to cave in the entrance; the rest of the burial chamber, sans some debris and a few displaced pieces of treasure, was entirely intact, with little chance of caving in on Henry’s head. Glancing around the cavern, they could also see algae and moss growing along the sides of the river. With luck, that meant fish, so they were not likely to starve before help arrived either. Sushi was far from their preferred meal of choice, but they were used to working with what little they had.

Continuing their observation of the burial chamber, Henry’s eyes were quickly drawn to something out of place; a splotch of bright red in a room otherwise filled with muted blues and greens and golds. A gym bag, made of a rough modern fabric with a dark zipper, sat unassumingly not far from where the bloodstain of Charles’ shooting marred the ground. Alarm bells went off in Henry’s head the second they registered what they were looking at. Bags like this were typically used in the case of an inventory being exceeded, but the only tool the Right Hand Man had used was their gun, a pistol that lacked the equipment requirements to necessitate that much gear, and the explosives that had blown up the cavern. And why leave the bag behind?

Henry forced themselves to stand, an uneasy weight shifting in their gut as they moved. The bag was zipped shut. Henry’s fingers were slowly and shaky as they pulled the zipper up, over, and down…

Exposing the bomb left instead the bag. A much larger explosive with a much bigger yield. Henry’s experience with this particular brand of bomb was minimal, but they knew enough to know that it could easily level the entire pyramid.

The bastard had promised that Henry would die, after all. Of course he wouldn’t leave it to chance.

There was no clock on the bomb, no sign that it would just explode at random. That didn’t mean it wasn’t on a timer, of course, but given how spiteful the Right Hand Man had been so far, Henry had a feeling it would go off at his whim. Either way, however, time was short for Henry Stickmin. They had to find a way out of the mess, and fast.

Attempting to disarm the explosive was a possibility, of course, but Henry didn’t know diddly squat about bomb disposal. Any attempt to cut the wires would just set the bomb off. All the wires might as well be the red one when you have no idea what you’re doing, after all.

Their next thought was to attempt an escape through the river, but their previous logic gave them pause. If the stream emptied out into a completely submerged cavern, then Henry would either have to swim for freedom and hope they could find an exit or… drown. And there was no guarantee a bomb with this kind of yield wouldn’t cause a cave in that could leave Henry trapped without air. Of the many, many ways they’d seen themselves die, suffocating to death tended to be some of the worst, primarily because suffocating was slow. The worst deaths were always the slow ones.

Sighing heavily, Henry plopped themselves down next to the bag. Their eyes scanned it over when they noticed something… underneath the bomb.

No way. The Right Hand Man was NOT stupid enough to leave anything else inside that bag… right?

Very carefully, so as not to set off a premature explosion, Henry inched the bomb aside and took a gander at the contents underneath. Indeed, the Right Hand Man had left other things inside along with the bomb… mostly his trash. Old wrappers, what may have been a shopping list before water damage got to it, a photograph of Henry and their partners littered with cigarette burns that was absolutely not chilling in any way, thank you very much. Growling a little, Henry continued to shuffle things around, hoping that something in this trash might be a little useful. A manual for the explosive was probably too optimistic to ask, but maybe there was some gum they could use to gunk up the interior, or an old radio that could be used to jam the activation frequency, or… or…

Henry’s mind ground to a halt as they reached the bottom of the bag, staring down at the final piece of garbage with their mouth agape. For the first time since bidding Ellie adieu, they spoke.

“You have GOT to be kidding me!”

--------------------

For the second time in a single day, a thousand years of peaceful rest for the dead was disturbed by a barrage of footsteps. The first time Ellie traversed these halls, her steps carried caution, nervousness, excitement, and determination that damped the sounds of her and her partners’ (and their stalker’s) traversal through the tomb. Now, however, those same sounds were louder, stronger, more frequent as they bounced off the walls and amplified ten times over. Just as loud was the steady, heavy breathing that escaped from her gasping mouth as she raced backwards through the pyramid.

Louder still was the beating of her heart in her chest.

Ellie couldn’t’ let herself think. If she did, all her worries and fears, the danger her boys were in, would overwhelm her in an instant. All she could do was keep pace, keep looking forward. Follow her map through the labyrinth protecting the burial chamber and try not to think of the silly look on Charles’ face as he focused on making it. Climb the staircase into the temple and don’t think of Henry’s confident smile as they danced their way through the false burial chamber. By this point the purple jelly… rubber… things had dissolved or something, so Ellie had to use Henry’s metal chain to swing across the pit of deadly spikes and potentially less deadly snakes and not think about whether or not the kidnapper got Charles across unscathed.

At last she reached the exit, the light at the end of the tunnel. Exhaustion was seeping into her bones, but Ellie did her best not to heed it any mind. She ignored the searing pain of fresh sunlight piercing her sensitive retinas as she returned to the land of the living. Ellie’s gaze darted around the jungle, searching for her targets with the same discerning eye that once picked originals out of fakes. In mere moments she found her boy struggling against the grip of his attacker at the very edge of the treeline.

Ellie couldn’t waste a second. She skipped the stairs and slid down the side of the pyramid instead, coming to a halt at the very bottom. She didn’t pause to so much as catch her breath. Instead she flew forward, her lungs burning at the sight of Charles stuck in that bastard’s grip, his pistol at Charles’ temple, and without so much as a cry of warning she shot her pistol with pin perfect accuracy. Her mark, the tree immediately to the left of the captor and hostage, had a smoking hole clear through the center ring, at the same height of the red-headed bitch’s face. A singular warning of just what kind of force he was messing with before things got ugly.

(And if there was so much as a scratch on her Charles… oh, would things get ugly.)

Though she hardly needed to make the demand aloud, Ellie called out to the Toppat, “I’ll give you one more chance. Release the pilot, now.”

The Toppat – what had Henry called him? The Right Something? - took one look at her, at the smoking tip of the gun in her hand, and had the utter audacity to smirk at the sight of it. “Heh. You all by your lonesome, girly?”

Let it be known that Ellie’s boys could never keep a secret from her, and even through his military bravado Ellie could see the truth in Charles’ eyes. The initial wave of relief when her shot rang out, noting her safety, followed by a stunned sense of fear and panic. His eyes met her, the unspoken question broadcasted plainly in the crinkle of his brow, the way his lips pressed tight. Though he dared not speak aloud, Charles was all but begging for the truth.

Never one to let a dramatic moment go to waste, Ellie answered the questions of both men with a smirk. “What, you mean to imply your little firecracker did any actual damage? Hardly.” Charles’ shoulders relaxed just a fraction in response to Ellie’s answer, and her grin widened. “They’re a little caught up though, so I’m sure they won’t mind me having all the fun.”

The Right Hand Whatever’s smug expression only got smugger. Something sour coiled in Ellie’s gut, an alarm bell signaling trouble on the horizon, but despite her suspicions Ellie couldn’t back down. Not when all the chips were on the table, when Charles was clearly struggling on his injured leg. Not when her opponent clearly had an ace up his sleeve, while her cleverly disguised hand was an utter train wreck waiting to happen. All she could do was shore up her grin and keep her poker face strong.

For her Charles, who was hurt and scared and had a gun pointed at his face. For her Henry, who was trapped and alone and waiting for her to return. She needed to find out what this son of a bitch had planned.

“That right?” The Right Something or Other asked cheekily. “You should know something, girl. I was Right ‘and Man of the Toppat Clan. Second in command of the entire brigade. The enforcer to our leader’s brains. I ‘andled every threat that would ever cross ‘is desk.” His one hand, the one that had Charles’ arm in a death grip, began moving up, fingers dancing on Charles’ sleeve, until they reached his shoulders, where they tapped, tapped, tapped away. Ellie could see Charles’ brow wrinkle as he tried not to show his discomfort with the action. “I nevah missed a mark. Even when I did, I didn’t. Because I always, always ‘ad a backup plan.”

Ellie’s very mind went numb as a bone chilling dread set in.

And then, behind her, the pyramid exploded.

The force of the explosion was enough to very nearly knock Ellie off her feet. All she could bring herself to do was stare back at what remained of the ruins. Every thought in her head came to a grinding, crashing halt as she struggled to comprehend what she was seeing. Henry, her gemstone, her partner in crime, her best fucking friend was in there. Ellie left them there, and had promised to come back, and didn’t. And now they’re gone. She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw up. She wanted to scream.

All she could do was stand there and stare, like the idiot who’d let herself be betrayed all those years ago.

Charles did the reacting for her, calling out, “Henry!!” In a bone-chillingly horrified cry that, momentarily, drew Ellie out of her stupor. She spun back around just in time to see the Right Hand Man’s grip around Charles shift so that his arm was wrapped around their sweetheart’s throat, not quite tight enough to completely cut off air but tight enough to choke and hurt, and a new terror grew in her when she saw Charles struggling to break free. Their eyes met.

The hope that had ignited in Charles when Ellie had appeared was entirely gone now, replaced with a darkness Ellie couldn’t quite place in her normally optimistic partner. The tears in his eyes broke free every few seconds, leaving a scorching trail down his face. Ellie felt the sight trigger a burning in her own eyes and bit her lip to try and keep it in. She already knew that was a losing battle.

Then, Charles’ escape attempts redoubled as he shouted, “Shoot him!”

Stunned, Ellie’s eyes briefly darted to her gun, the sidearm she hadn’t lowered once throughout the entire exchange, before returning to Charles, “What?!”

“Shoot him!” Repeated the pilot. His lack of resistance to his captor so far, combined with his injury, must have left the Right Hand Murderer complacent, because he was genuinely struggling to get Charles under control again with only one arm, “Fucking kill him-! Make him pay, he can’t get away with this, he can’t-!”

“But-” Half of Ellie’s remaining strength was channeled into her hands, trying to prevent them from shaking. Her vision was too blurry with building tears to tell how successful she was, “I can’t- he’ll shoot you-” The Right Hand Monster’s weapon had been drawn away a little, but it was still pointed at Charles’ head. He could still very easily get a shot off before Ellie could finish pulling the trigger.

The utter rage in Charles’ voice only made Ellie’s shaking worse, “I don’t care, I don’t fucking care! He needs to die! He needs to suffer for what he did-!”

The murderer was yelling something at Charles, but it flew over Ellie’s head as she swallowed past the heavy lump in her throat. Her eyes burned, her vision blurring so badly she could only barely tell her boyfriend apart from that monster. The pressure of all that had happened in the past two minutes began to crush her lungs, leaving her gasping for air.

Henry was dead. They were gone and dead because of that man, that monster who hurt her partners and if she were a better agent, a stronger person, she could take the shot, take him out and avenge her gemstone but- but Charles was right there. All it would take was one misfire, one mistake, one twitch of her shaking hands and then she’d have lost both her partners.

She couldn’t breath. Her lungs were burning, Every gulp of air she took only fed the fire, suffocating her faster in a smoky haze of grief and terror.

Then, for what must have been the fourth time that day, Ellie was blinded by light.

This burst of light, however, was far more short lived, only blinding the three for a few key seconds. Just long enough for Henry’s fist to collide with the Right Bastard’s face. He flew back from the force of it, head colliding with the trunk of a nearby tree. That accursed gun was launched into the distance and lost amongst the natural chaos of the rain forest. Ellie frantically wiped at her face, desperate to clear her clouded sight and prove this wasn’t a trick of the eyes.

Once she could see, Ellie was treated to a vision of absolute beauty. Her partner, her gemstone, standing tall and proud above the Right Hand Loser, breathing heavily. His one hand was balled into a fist. His other kept hold of a painfully familiar device, and the sight of it nearly brought Ellie to tears of laughter.

“Never bring the teleporter!” Henry scolded the old man with all the fierceness of the drill instructors Ellie overheard back at base. They tossed the offending device far off into the distance, utter disgust written on their face. “It always backfires!”

“Henry…!” Charles called out, having been knocked aside in the chaos. As Henry’s attention was directed to their partner, Ellie noted the Right Hand What’s His Face darting towards the jungle and immediately turned her gaze in his direction. Her hands still, her vision clear, Ellie aimed true and hit the hat clean off his head.

This knocked the Right Hand Bastard off balance, which gave Ellie just enough time to rush him with all the force she could muster. Compounded with the strength of her force power, it was more than enough to knock the monster off his feet and onto the ground.

Her follow-up blow was blocked by his elbow, and when their gazes met Ellie could feel the resentment in his sneer. There was something below the hate, below the anger that brought them to this point, but now that her two lovers were safe Ellie let the full force of her rage out, throwing her fists and her feet into the man’s body wherever she could manage. His arms, his stomach, his head, his legs… wherever her hits could land, they landed with precision and force. Ellie barely felt the blows she got back in return, the punches to her stomach and head and chest that she knew she’d feel tomorrow. She didn’t care. She couldn’t care.

All she cared about was unleashing her pain on this sick, sick bastard.

An explosion of force suddenly hit Ellie’s stomach, propelling her back and away from the target of her wrath. For a moment nausea and vertigo overwhelmed her, just enough that the Right Hand Man managed to get back on his feet and start hurriedly limping towards the jungle.

Gritting her teeth, Ellie twisted herself around to launch herself again, feeling the rocks on the ground dig into her palms, feeling the heat of the jungle sun on her back. She could leap like a lion, could tackle him to the ground and beat him bloody before he even knew what hit him-

“Ellie!”

Henry’s voice gave the once thief pause, and she turned her gaze around to see Henry sat on the ground, Charles’ limp form cradled in their arms. The sight of the bloody bandages hastily wrapped around his leg caused her stomach to start spinning all over again.

Cursing her own stupidity for letting the Right Hand Whatever distract her for so long, Ellie pushed herself up and limped over to help Henry. Looking her partner over, Ellie could tell Henry had escaped by the skin of their teeth yet again. Their clothes were filthy, covered in soot and damaged from the rocks. Their hands, wrapped around Charles and holding him close, were stained with blood. Ellie briefly wondered if all of it was Charles, then immediately shut that thought down. She couldn’t handle any more worries right now.

Henry’s mouth opened and shut in a few false starts as their overly stressed brain struggled to put words in their mouth. Eventually they managed to spit out, “Help. For Charles.”

“Help for Charles.” Ellie agreed. Hopefully Henry remembered more from Charles’ on the fly piloting lessons than she did, because otherwise it was going to be a very long, very dangerous flight back.

--------------------

Ellie awoke to fingers at her face, pushing in her cheeks. Not forceful enough to hurt, but definitely enough to be annoying.

“Henry?” She grumbled, clumsily pushing their hand away from her. Despite their mutual agreement to get some sleep while their partner was being treated, Henry barely looked any better. They’d changed clothes at least, wearing some cheap t-shirt and sweatpants that the hospital had kindly provided, but dark shadows still highlighted their eyes.

But there was a shiny happiness in those ruby red orbs that brought any complaints Ellie had to a grinding halt. Their hands, stiff from soreness, moved slower than normal as they signed to her, “Charles is awake.”

That woke her up more thoroughly than any coffee could have.

Sure enough, sitting up on the bed at the end of the room was their pilot, their sweethearted ray of sunshine, who was too focused on picking the crust off his provided sandwich to notice the two approach at first. But Ellie could see the moment he spotted them, how his excited grin grew so wide it brightened the entire room.

“Yo, Els!” Charles greeted. “How are you feeling?”

“I think I should be asking you that.” She responded, keeping her tone light and playful despite the nerves wriggling within her. “Are you alright? Are you hurting anywhere?”

“Don’t worry, they got me hooked up on some good stuff.” Charles assured her, then hesitated, and something in Ellie went cold. Was something wrong? Had she missed something snoozing away?

Before her thoughts could get away from her, a warmth enveloped Ellie’s hand as Charles took it in his own. The light in his eyes was dim, morose, and it only made her want to hold him tight and never let go. The urge to follow up on that impulse, however, was halted by a single pair of words.

“I’m sorry.”

For a moment, Ellie hadn't been sure she’d heard him right. “You’re… sorry?” At his affirmative nod, she asked, “Sorry for what?” A thought occurred to her, and Ellie scowled, “If you’re blaming yourself for getting shot-”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Charles paused a second, “I mean, I should have been paying more attention-” Whatever he was about to say was interrupted with a light jab from Henry’s elbow into his side “Ah!” He shot a glance at Henry, who merely stared back at him, silent, expressionless. With a sigh, Charles proceeded along his original train of thought. “But I’m talking about what happened when- when Henry-” The words seemed to get caught in Charles throat, so again he redirected, “Uh, when the pyramid blew up, I said some… really aggressive things.”

Ellie forced her face into something neutral. She knew what Charles was talking about. She was trying not to dwell on it, on that unfamiliar rage in his eyes, on the sickening feeling that she was going to lose everything in one single, horrible day. If she looked as bad as she felt even remembering that moment, Ellie was certain she’d only make Charles feel worse.

But her skill at maintaining a poker face must have been out of practice, because Ellie could see the hurt in his eyes anyways.

“And- And I know I made you feel awful. I’m so sorry.” Charles buried his face in his hands and leaned back, allowing Henry to hold him as he continued. “I was just so mad… I thought Henry was- was gone, and I thought it was his fault, and- and- I just wanted him to pay for it. I didn’t care what happened to me, as long as he suffered. But- but that wasn’t fair to you.” Charles sighed, and Henry’s fingers began coming through his hair soothingly. “I’m really, really sorry, Els.”

Ellie exhaled deeply, feeling the tension in her body begin to relax a little. “I get it.” She said, approaching Charles’ bedside and sitting next to him. Curled up into Henry’s side, Charles looked incredibly small, and it made her heart leap. Ellie slipped her hand onto Charles’ knee, rubbing it comfortingly. “When the pyramid exploded, and Henry was still inside… I was angry too. I still am.” Ellie looked down at her bruised knuckles. She wondered if she’d managed to hurt that insufferable bastard. She hoped so. “If I thought for a second he’d have been the only one hurt, I would’ve taken the shot. Hell, if I were in your place…” Ellie could feel Charles’ muscles tense under her hand at the mere thought, and leaned over to lay her head on his shoulder. “I’d have probably done the same thing.”

“Are you sure?” Charles asked, uncertain. “Because you’re supposed to be smarter than me. You remember that, right?”

Henry snorted, drawing both of their attention upward. “If you thought that explosion could take me down,” They signed, grinning smugly, “Then both of you are idiots.”

“Rude.” Ellie snapped back with no bite. One of Charles’ hands came to rest on hers, and she brushed their fingers gently together, hoping the sensation was as soothing to Charles as it was to her. Judging from the pleasant sigh her partner let out, she was right on the money. On Charles’ other side, Henry had taken a seat on the bed and seemed content to have Charles’ weight pressed into their own, eyes a shimmer with fondness as Charles nuzzled into their side.

All was peaceful. All was calm. So, naturally, the government had to step in to ruin it.

More precisely, a small procession of soldiers came through the door with barely an announcement, causing the Triple Threat to scramble to attention, practically throwing themselves away from each other to sit up straight and look semi-professional. They inspected each corner of the room, clearing it inch by inch, before lining up at the doorway and saluting professionally.

When Galeforce walked into the room and dismissed the procession to play guard in the hall, Ellie felt her muscles all simultaneously slump into an awkward half-laying, half-sitting position. She was so done with surprises today. Any more and her heart would burst, Ellie was sure of it.

Once they were alone, Galeforce quickly reached their bedside with long, purposeful strides. “I’d just gotten word through my contacts that you’d been rushed in with a gun wound. Glad to see you’re all alright,” The old man admitted, an unusual softness in his voice. When working, Galeforce endeavored to remain professional in his interactions with his men, but it was not much of a secret that he had a weakness for the little orphan pilot that could. His attention turned to Henry and Ellie, both now recovered enough to sit casually by Charles’ side. “But what happened? I didn’t receive any reports of organized criminal activity in this area- at least, not anyone who would’ve known who you three are.”

“Toppat scum.” Henry signed at their commander. Just those two words had them looking like they’d swallowed something sour.

Galeforce’s sign language skills weren’t quite at Charles and Ellie’s level, but he recognized at least the important word and his shoulders went rigged. “Dammit.” Swore the general. “You all have my sincerest apologies. I should have warned you sooner.”

“Warned us?” Ellie asked, her tone sharpening at the implications.

The General sighed heavily, barely managing to keep his shoulders square with the weight of his guilt on his back. “Just after your vacation started, I’d gotten word that the leader of the Toppat Clan, Reginald Copperbottom, had been assassinated in prison.”

Ellie felt her eyes go wide, and she could feel Charles stiffen in surprise as well. Glancing across the hospital bed at Henry, Ellie found them staring up at the general aimlessly. She’d seen this lost look in their eyes before, when they were gazing into futures that would never happen, and wondered, not for the first time, how they managed with such a heavy burden on their shoulders. Seeing the future was a curse Henry bore mostly with silence, but her and Charles had been learning to pick up on the cues. Ellie’s arm wrapped around Charles, gripping Henry’s hand with just enough strength to anchor them to the present, and a moment later she felt them squeeze it back in recognition.

They’d explain later, most likely. For now, though, the General’s explanation kept their attention.

“Some prison guard had a family history with one of the chief’s predecessors. I won’t bore you with the details.” Galeforce sat on the empty bed nearby, leaning forward with his hands folded in front of his face. “But that very same night Reginald’s Right Hand Man, the second in command of the entire clan, escaped from prison. We’re still not sure how he even knew about Reginald’s death, but he managed to kill the assassin and grab his leader’s corpse on the way out. I thought he’d be more focused on resurrecting the clan than anything else, and with your vacation being out of the country, I decided to bring you into the loop once you got back.” Regret and frustration shone in the General’s eyes as he spoke, his gaze downcast to avoid looking at any of the trio. “I have no idea how he even managed to find you three, let alone pull off something like this. He has nothing; no resources, no allies, not even a penny to his name. I didn’t think-” The old man sighed, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t know how I can even begin making this up to you.”

Ellie took a moment to breath. Her first reaction was the familiar sting of hurt and betrayal, and at one point she may have gotten up in Galeforce’s face to really give him a piece of her mind. Years of unconditional support from her partners, however, gave her the patience to wait out that initial wave and follow up with a much more logical response of understanding. They were on vacation, out in the middle of nowhere with minimal ways to track them down. It wouldn’t have occurred to Galeforce that the bastard would even know where they are, let actually finding them and making them suffer. It would have been nice to have warning, but at the end of the day it wasn’t really his fault.

Henry stared off into space, their eyes clouded with conflict as they struggled between the frustration they were no doubt riddled with and the same logical conclusion Ellie came to. Charles sat slumped in the hospital bed, gazing down as he fiddled his thumbs. Charles had known Galeforce longer than either of them, and the bond of trust they’d built as subordinate and commander was hard to break, but she had no doubt her sweetheart was still upset.

So Ellie took the lead, smiling cheekily at the General, “Well, a few more weeks of vacation would be nice.”

Two pairs of eyes instantly hit the back of Ellie’s head, and she struggled not to turn around and face them. But hearing Ellie let the General off easy must have helped them make up their minds, because soon she felt Charles leaning against her back, his smile tickling the skin on her shoulder as he agreed, “And maybe a bit of overtime? I mean, we did technically face off against an enemy of the state…”

Galeforce chuckled at their responses, the weight on his shoulders lightening up bit by bit. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Henry pushed away from the wall, drawing enough attention to them so they could sign, “I can come up with a trap for the guy.” Their signing was more fluid, more playfully bouncy, and Ellie felt a little more of her worry edge away, “All we need is a few miles of rope, a pool of pudding, the Tunisian Diamond…”

“Now you’re pushing it.” The General joked back, standing with a smile. He seemed lighter on his feet than when he first entered. “I’ll arrange for transport back to base once Charlie is feeling a little better, and you’ll be under guard until further notice. For now, though, just focus on getting some rest. We’ve got protection duty taken care of.” The General began walking back towards the door, only to pause and look back, tipping his hat. “Oh. And happy anniversary.”

Silence rang loudly between them as Galeforce stepped out, quietly opening and closing the door behind him. The moment hung in the air and stretched the seconds into hours.

Finally, at last, Charles broke through the quiet with his usual blunt charm, clumsily destroying the remaining tension in the air with his joking snort. “Some anniversary.” He declared, crossing his arms. “We almost died, an ancient marvel of the lost world got blown up, and we have nothing to show for it!” He huffed, pouted, and then loudly declared, “Whoever planned this trip deserves to get shot.”

And despite all of it, Ellie couldn’t help but burst into laughs.

“It is a shame,” She agreed, wistfully recounting the weight of the amethyst in her hands. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Henry stand, but paid them no mind for the moment. “Still, up until that Toppat clown showed up it was pretty fun.”

“Yeah.” Charles agreed. “Like when you swung over those traps to pull our sorry butts out of the fire? Heh, that was pretty cool.” The stars shimmering in his eyes suggested he remembered the event being way more than cool, and Ellie couldn’t help but puff up a little in pride. It hadn’t been hard – she’d done way crazier back in her criminal days – but something about Charles’ earnest, enthusiastic reactions made her feel like the tallest person in the world. Henry (standing weirdly close, with a weird grin spread across their face) called him their sunshine for a reason, and as much as the two liked to tease them about their choice of nicknames, Ellie had to admit they were right on the money with that one.

“Or how you created a path of freakin’ bouncy balls to get across that weird spike pit.” Ellie recounted. At the time she’d felt her blood pressure spike with each bounce, but now, in hindsight, it had been both impressive and hilarious.

Charles laughed along, as full and bright as himself, and nodded eagerly. “Or- or how Henry broke out into a random dance and that somehow opened the way to the real tomb?” The memory of their dance across the false burial site only caused Ellie to laugh harder, a deep blush growing across her face. How could she have ever wanted to be a serious criminal, when being silly with these two idiots was so much more fun?

The fluttering laughter came to a slow halt as Ellie suddenly noticed Henry’s arms outstretched between her and Charles. More specifically, the gigantic purple gem nestled in their hands, reflecting the harsh light of the hospital to shine brighter than it had in the dim catacombs of the tomb. Ellie’s eyes trailed up Henry’s arms, across their shoulder, all the way up to that stupid smug grin on their face.

The cheeky bastard. When had they even had time to grab that thing?

“You clever little sneak!” Charles yelled out, recovering from the shock of seeing their hard won prize much faster than Ellie. His arms reached out, grabbing for his two partners, and Ellie and Henry reached back without hesitation. Any thought of the Right Hand Whatever, of the dangers past and dangers to come, of anything that could stand in the way of the Triple Threat floated to the very edge of Ellie’s mind, leaving her clear to focus on what was really important.

As far as anniversaries went, Ellie supposed this could have gone a lot worse.

--------------------

As the sun set over the city, a single man sat on a lone rooftop. His gaze was as piercing as the setting sun, matching it’s blinding glare with equal fierceness.

Feh, of course they bloody survived. Nothing could go right for the prior Right Hand Man lately.

Unwilling to let himself drown in his thoughts, the once Right Hand Man removed a crumpled piece of paper from his inventory, directing his ire down at the paper as if it was what had offended him, and not the myriad of names listed upon it.

Dozens upon dozens of people would have found their names upon that list. A small number were crossed out. A worthless avenger, a couple of gossiping jail guards, an old judge with a bad hair cut; a mere handful, compared to the number of names remaining. A thief, a pilot, and, more recently, an ex-gang runner. A general, his personal guard, a witness pulled from the airship’s brig. Turncoats and traitors to the clan, selling out their brothers for a scrap of leniency. Anyone and everyone even remotely involved in the fall of the Toppat Clan and the death of it’s leader were listed on this single scrap of paper.

“Don’ you worry a bit, Reg.” Murmured the enforcer, running his finger down the list like he was running a knife across some traitor’s skin. “I’ll make ‘em pay. Every last one of ‘em fuckers ‘at destroyed our clan. ‘Ey’ll all pay for wot they did. And once ‘ey do…”

His finger finally paused on the list’s final name, the ultimate victim of his revenge spree. The one who’s failure had lead to the destruction of everything the once Right Hand Man held dear.

“...I’ll be comin’ for ya, Reg. Save a spot in ‘ell fer me, would ya?”

--------------------

Aw, yes! More Polythreat!

I'm sorry for kind of being AWOL. I've been active on Tumblr, but was afflicted with some nasty writer's block. It took me a whole year to write this, believe it or not. I'd hoped to get it done by my birthday, but I'm just happy to have it done. Merry Christmas, everybody!

The events surrounding RHM and Reginald are depicted in a comic here on my tumblr: Atychiphobia - Fear of Failure. You can probably find it pretty easily. Neither RHM nor Copperright have been tagged, though. To preserve the surprise. Tags do kind of give away something going down, but it happens.

Thank you for reading! Hopefully I'll come up with something else to write soon.

#The Henry Stickmin Collection #THSC #Henry Stickmin #Polythreat #Poly Threat #Charles Calvin #Ellie Rose #They/Themry #Triple Threat #Knightmare Writing #Action/Adventure #Gun Violence #Hostage Situations #Tomb Raiding #Protective Triple Threat #Henry's powers are depicted as Future Vision #Assumed Character Death #Galeforce is here too for a lil bit #There's also a surprise mystery character! #They'll help the plot later!

[archive2394934]

Hi, I can't go one single day without being insane so heres a video clip I took shittily on my phone of this particular scene since I think about it all the time. I keep SAYIN it but Vecna's got precognition. He showed Nancy the future, this scene confirms it entirely but anyway the point of this post is more RE my post from yesterday

In particular the part about the Leviathan because I cannot stress enough how almost infinite the similarities between it and the MF seem to be. In this scene Nancy talks about a "dark cloud" spreading over Hawkins (we know this dark cloud is the most "primitive" form of the MF, essentially.) But Nancy also talks about "this giant creature... with a gaping mouth" she also says "And this creature wasn't alone. There were so many monsters. An army." The relevance here is we might be tempted to think there is some other colossal creature in the upside down, and MAYBE THERE IS, but maybe its the massive beast we're already familiar with? Nancy could be referencing another ""body"" of the MF. This feels particularly true given we've seen in season 3 the MF's physical avatar in Hawkins was a giant, horrifying biomass with a massive gaping mouth.

We know because the MF is a collective consciousness it does in fact have dominion over a small army of monsters. This seems to be the role we've already confirmed the Demo-creatures to play. They're the "foot soldiers' as described by the party, just like Vecna is described as the "general".

I think its interesting that they had Nancy describe a giant beast with a huge gaping mouth given all the OTHER strange similarities I've pointed out he MF shares with the mythological Leviathan. I mentioned in my post that in some myth the Leviathan is identified as "the Hellmouth"

A Hellmouth, or the jaws of Hell, is the entrance to Hell envisaged as the gaping mouth of a huge monster, an image which first appeared in Anglo-Saxon art, and then spread all over Europe. It remained very common in depictions of the Last Judgment and Harrowing of Hell. And of the last Judgement: The saved are led up to heaven, often shown as a fortified gateway, while the damned are handed over to devils who herd them down into hell on the right; the composition therefore has a circular pattern of movement. Often the damned disappear into a Hellmouth, the mouth of a huge monster.

This is all related to my rambles about the biblegate stuff I've been pumping out recently and my silly MF theory. Sadly I'm cursed with knowledge so I fucked up and assumed people would let me in on that convo without gettin offended by what I had to offer, my bad and so here I am. Anyway, I also mentioned mentioned the apocalypse on the holy trinity post which is related to how I keep banging on about Vecna's show of precognition and also the MF being a cosmic being and not just some... random... Cloud (boggles my brain people in this fandom really think its just a random cloud omg) When I mentioned the apocalypse I didn't just mean it in its popularized form (the end of the world, although that also applies) I meant it in its literary form as in "Apocalypse is a literary genre in which a supernatural being reveals cosmic mysteries or the future to a human intermediary. The means of mediation include dreams, visions and heavenly journeys"

I dont think I have to go too in depth about how I feel that relates to Henry/Vecna but this ties in to how I have speculated and shown that I THINK its heavily, HEAVILY suggested the MF gave Henry his powers and that this occurred BEFORE Henry ever found it in the UD but we can at least confirm that RN, the source of VECNA'S power and ""knowledge"" is in fact the Cloud from the UD. Like I just cant think this is all somehow some big coincidence. FINALLY because I didn't get to add it to my post from earlier since my brain decided to stop working and focus on pokemon instead I wanted to add this. This is back with the way the MF is heavily associated with particularly negative emotions. When the MF possesses someone, its depicted as its "original form". It shows up as a raging storm deep inside the possessed party. This storm is full of the possessed persons most painful memories and feelings. Back to the Leviathan unfortunately because like I said the similarities and associations never fucking end, but I already mentioned the Leviathan is a god of chaos and associated with negative emotions. A storm is symbolization for all of these things- chaos, fear, rage, sadness, etc, and its not strange to see the Leviathan depicted as a massive coiling serpent in a raging sea with a thundering storm overhead.

FINALLY. Referencing the final scene with Possessed!Billy, Eleven and the MF proxy in season 3. At ANY POINT, Posessed!Billy could have killed Eleven. She was helpless. But for some reason he TOOK HER to the spider creature and offered her to it. The fandom thinks Possessed!Billy was under Vecna's control here, and I'm pretty inclined to agree. But at this point he's already "stolen" her powers. So why does he want to give her to the MF's proxy? Why not just kill her and get it over with? The way he goes out of his way instead to OFFER her to the spider monster draws likeness to sacrifice. The act of offering life to a deity as a means of worship and/or propitiation. And thats just interesting to me given everything else I've mentioned here and in almost all my other previous posts. Season 5 is gonna be so fun.

#henry creel #vecna #001 #the mindflayer #billy hargrove #william byers #byler #stranger things #stranger things analysis #stranger things theory #old man yells at cloud #I mean... its gonna be fun FOR ME anyway LOL

[firstcurse-moved]

Because  @//strcngergirls​​  reminded  me  of  this,  I  wanted  to  mention  that  Henry  does  not  call  or  think  of  the  entity  the  party  refers  to  as  the  “mindflayer”  as  the  mindflayer.  I’ve  been  meaning  to  write  a  proper  headcanon  post  about  this,  and  maybe  I’ll  talk  more  about  it  later  or  maybe  I’ll  just  give  you  this  so  you  know  I’m  so  insane  but  so  free,  but  essentially  what  he  more  likens  it  to  is  a  god.   Basically,  no  matter  what  verse,  Henry  tends  to  have  a  special  reverence  for  this  “thing”  that  he  originally  perceived  as  a  child.  Frankly,  pre-Vecna  he  doesn’t  fully  know  what  it  is,  half  the  time  he  doesn’t  even  know  if  its  real  or  a  figment  of  some  illness  he  has,  but  he  has  semi-vivid  memories  of  something  from  his  childhood.  

These  memories  are  of  the  dreams  or  “visions”  of  a  “higher”  being  that  contacted  him  in  his  childhood,  which  he  depicted  as  a  dark  stormy  void  with  a  vaguely  spider  shape,  as  was  seemingly  communicated  to  him.  Again,  in  pre-Vecna  verses,  he  teeters  on  thinking  he  imagined  it  to  knowing  its  “real”  and  he  somehow  communicated  with  it  as  a  child.  He  doesn’t  talk  about  it  because  he’s  aware  it  makes  him  seem  utterly  insane,  and  again  sometimes  hes  a  little  worried  that  maybe  that  is  true,  which  would  have  made  his  mother  right  about  him,  and  thats  not  something  he  wants  to  think  about  so  this  is  really  hard  to  talk  about  and  describe  for  him.

But  here  are  some  descriptions  of  “Azathoth”  from  the  world  of  HPL  as  I  take  HEAVY  inspo  from  this  being  for  the  MF:

For example Ronald Shea enters a temple after visiting the forest near Goatswood and discovers a twenty-foot idol that "represented the god Azathoth--Azathoth as he had been before his exile. Outside, It consisted of a bivalvular shell supported on many pairs of flexible legs. From the half-open shell rose several jointed cylinders, tipped with polypous appendages; and in the darkness inside the shell I thought I saw a horrible bestial, mouthless face, with deep-sunk eyes and covered with glistening black hair." Later Shae sees "something ooze into the corridor--a pale grey shape, expanding and crinkling, which glistened and shook gelatinously as still-moving particles dropped free; but it was only a glimpse"

... ancient legends of Ultimate Chaos, at whose center sprawls the blind idiot god Azathoth, Lord of All Things, encircled by his flopping horde of mindless and amorphous dancers, and lulled by the thin monotonous piping of a demoniac flute held in nameless paws.

Outside the ordered universe is that amorphous blight of nethermost confusion which blasphemes and bubbles at the center of all infinity—the boundless daemon sultan Azathoth, whose name no lips dare speak aloud, and who gnaws hungrily in inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond time and space amidst the muffled, maddening beating of vile drums and the thin monotonous whine of accursed flutes.

August Derleth portrayed Azathoth as being similar to Lucifer from Christian theology, warring against the Elder Gods and being rendered blind and witless by them before being banished from creation by their magic. At some point in the future after the second coming of Nyarlathotep, Azathoth and his armies will return and all of the entire creation will be destroyed.  Despite being mindless, Azathoth does have a will of his own and commands his messenger and avatar, Nyarlathotep.

This  matches  a  lot  of  “themes”  and  “aesthetics”  I  have  for  this  blog  and  Henry’s  connection  to  the  mindflayer,  particularly  his  symbiosis  with  it  as  Vecna.  This  also  relates  to  the  title  of  this  blog,  which  comes  from  Annihilator’s  song  of  the  same  name: Wicked  Mystic.

All through out the centuries, existing year to year Lives on the powerful entity to thrive on pain and fear A derelict of heavenly gods, a feeling from within Weakened minds are perfect prey, corrosion will begin Some won't fight, the battle is forsaken Show no might, the dark side has awakened Even in the holiest the curious can be found Their wonderment is dangerous as virtue is but bound Moral codes broken What's the sin that lurks within, the burning emotion of hatred Some won't fight, the battle is forsaken Show no might, the dark side has awakened Wicked Mystic Hatred lurks in all of us, no one is exempt It's proof of evil in our souls, is this the tempter's intent A derelict of heavenly gods, a feeling from within Weak minds are perfect prey for corrosion to begin Some won't fight, the battle is forsaken Show no might, the dark side has awakened Wicked Mystic (Mystic) Wicked Mystic (Mystic) (Mystic)

Like  I  said,  I  plan  to  go  over  this  again  in  the  future  and  talk  about  it  a  little  more  in  depth  but  yeah  FOR  NOW,  heres  the  spicy  preview  of  the  bullshit  I’m  on. 

#⊰ ° ‧: 🕸️ * ● 𝐈 ° ━◞ Out Of Character ⊱ #⊰ ° ‧: 🕸️ * ● 𝐈 ° ━◞ Headcanons ⊱ #headcanons

[andreahamiltonblog]

Leonor Fini

“In a sense my paintings have always been my autobiography. A revealing autobiography because my paintings do not interpret either my conscious development or my experiences; rather, they ‘unmask’ a being inside of me (often with strange projections into the future).” — Leonor Fini

Leonor Fini (1907–1996) was an Italo-Argentinian surrealist painter. Her works are inspired by her time spent living in both Milan and Paris where she took influence from both renaissance and surrealist eras and movements, although she was never a member of any group or movement, preferring to stake her own claim on modernism with a vision that owes more to the farthest shores of her imagination than to any affiliation with art trends, schools or movements.

In 1931 she moved to Paris to forge a career as an artist and formed friendships with Henri Cartier-Bresson, Salvador Dali, Max Ernst and the writer André Pieyre de Mandiargues. She had her first one person show in Paris when she was twenty-five at a gallery directed by Christian Dior. Her work caught on fast and was included in the pivotal and groundbreaking ‘Fantastic Art, Dada and Surrealism’ exhibition at the MOMA in 1936 while at the same time she had her first New York exhibition at the avant-garde Julien Levy Galley.

Fini was not only one of the few female artists of the period who was neither the companion nor the muse of another artist, but probably the only one who always claimed the strictest equality, as evidenced by her depiction of women. The painting ‘Autoportrait au scorpion’ is an iconic personal statement and an exploration of her own artistic power. 

Image: Leonor Feni, Autoportrait au scorpion, 1938

#leonorfini #womenartists #loeveandco #FriezeLondon #moma #guggenheim #tate #sothebys #art #painting

[minervacasterly]

The caricature of Margaret Beaufort:

From pop culture POV and the POV of those influenced by it, this powerful matriarch is all of the following: Religious nut case! Bitch. She killed the princes in the tower! Old and ugly! Screw her! She and her son were the worst thing that happened to England!

And yet her son became the founder of a dynasty that reigned for more than a century and continues to fascinate us. Now on to the real Meg Beaufort. In the White Queen she is all this and that but the real Meg was no religious nut case and she certainly didn't plan the murder of the Princes and you can debate me countless times on this but there is no concrete evidence that she did! Richard had more than enough motive and opportunity to kill the Princes and oh wait before I get the Ricardians on my case, I don't hate Richard. I actually find him interesting, I wouldn't find him interesting if he was perfect. Richard had learned from his brother's mistakes but made mistakes of his own. If he produced the boys then that would've propelled them to sainthood and the last thing he wanted was a cult was already building around Henry VI. What happened with this last monarch is fascinating and you might be wondering -hey! Isn't that the guy they smothered with a pillow in the White Queen? Yeah, that's the one. Except there are so many theories abounding to his death. The first one comes from Bettini who wrote three weeks after the Lancastrian king's death that it was Edward NOT Richard who gave the order. At the time the blame was solely pinned on Edward, so let's not confuse contemporary sources with secondary. Rous and Vergil writing in the Tudor period pinned the murder on Richard and even early Ricardians say that he did it, but with one major difference -*under* Edward's orders. If this is so, one thing we can all agree, if Richard gave the order or personally took care of Henry, it was all done under his brother's command. But this backfired, soon people were attributing all sorts of miracles to this guy, he became more famous in death than he had ever been in life. Edward tried hard to suppress this cult but he couldn't and Richard did the next best thing. If you can't beat them, join 'em! He cashed in on the cult and officiated a reburial of the dead monarch and started all new kinds of celebrations for him but people still talked as they always do. Now if he had produced the dead children as he and his brother had done with the Lancastrian king, then it would've been chaos, complete and utter chaos!

Margaret Beaufort's sole aim up until the princes disappearance in the summer of 1483 was to gain back her son's lands and bring him back safely. She was forced to give him up before after the Lancaster line had been wiped out from the face of the earth by Yorkist forces, ending to some historians' view, the wars of the roses in 1471. Margaret would not see him until the aftermath of Bosworth in 1485. She had little to worry about the first years of his exile, he was with his uncle Jasper, his father's brother. They intended to sail to the French court, a court his uncle knew very well but landed in Brittany instead because of the bad weather. Brittany was not on good terms with the French and they had their fair share of enmity with the English so it served the Duke well to have two valuable English hostages, one who had a considerable (if debatable) claim to the English throne via his mother. Edward attempted to coax the old Duke into give up his charge and while the Duke never believed Edward's intentions, some of his ministers did and those who didn't just wanted to cash in on the juicy rewards. Henry was an intelligent youth who was far from the serious and mama's boy he's depicted in today's fiction. He loved to laugh, play, joke and gamble. But he was aware how valuable he was and at one point feigned sickness and took sanctuary in a church when he suspected his future voyage to England was a hoax -which it was -and that small trickery on his part saved him.

By 1480, Margaret had more than enough to worry, but she wasn't giving up on her son's legacy. With Edward's promise to marry him to his eldest daughter, Margaret continued to rely on the faith that gave comfort to so many women in this period, and Edward's promise, albeit a fake one, was something she never let go of. The accession of Richard and Anne changed all that. Always an opportunist at heart, she tried to curry favor with the new regime. Whether she agreed with it or not -we will never know but her husband was an official in Richard's government and she had more than enough reason to believe that Richard would grant her her request to bring her son back. After all he was more busy convincing everyone his brother had never been legally married to Elizabeth and securing his position. But surprise, surprise for Margaret and everyone involved. Her life was never easy, it was one obstacle after another and this was no different. The boys' disappearance changed everything and Buckingham's rebellion gave her a chance she had never considered before. Her moment to shine had come. She was no longer looking to bring her son back as a mere earl but as a king so she started plotting with the queen dowager through her Welsh doctor. After a lot of plotting and intrigue and tragedy at Richard's court, her son's shining moment came and thanks to the defection of his stepfather from Richard's camp to his side, he won. There is a famous myth that his stepfather, Thomas Stanley found the crown in a thorn bush but this is likely Tudor propaganda. Richard's treatment afterwards was one that's always given by the victor to the loser, stripped of all his clothes and shamefully paraded, he was then written as the worst monarch that ever lived.

And while I do agree there needs to be a better assessment of Richard, doing the same to Margaret and Richard is just as dumb. She was born in 1443 and a year after, John Beaufort, her father and Duke of Somerset died. Many said at the time that it was because of suicide because of his terrible leadership in France. Truth or not, Margaret was now a wealthy heiress and her wardship was widely sought after. William de la Pole, the crown's favorite tried to marry her to his son, but after he was murdered, at only nine years old Margaret was brought to court to swear that she never intended to marry his son. Later she rewrote history saying that it was because of a godly vision that told her that it was her destiny to marry Edmund Tudor and establish a great house, that she denied it. Margaret married at only 12 and Edmund Tudor, anxious to get his hands on her wealth, didn't bother to wait. He impregnated her less than a year after and she gave birth in January 1457 when she was months away from being 14, to her only offspring. The birth damaged her, she never had any children with her other spouses. She had a happy marriage with her next spouse, Henry Stafford and they celebrated their anniversary in big style every year and even housed Edward IV in their hunting lodged in one occasion. This doesn't sound like the power hungry, vindictive Margaret of TV. And that's because she wasn't! She was very learned and founded and refounded many colleges, chief among them: Christ's College which had previously been God's House and St. John's in Cambridge. Aware that only the privileged few could attend these institutions she voiced her concerns in 1479, and her attempts bore fruit when Wimborne College was established posthumously in 1509, which was later renamed Queen Elizabeth's school. She also established the Lady Margaret Beaufort Professorship of Divinity at Cambridge in 1502 and the first women's college in Oxford was named after her.

In spite of her joy of seeing her son crowned, she could not help herself. Fisher and many contemporaries described how she cried -a clear sign of a woman that doesn't care about power- and when asked why, she responded because she had lived through so many kings and princes who had been murdered and killed in battle. Who knew if her son was next or if his reign would last. She cried the same tears of grief on her grandson's joint coronation with Katherine, fearing that his reign would face the same troubles.

Margaret passed away days after in 1509, after a long life of hardship and triumph.

#history #tudors #dailytudors #margaret beaufort

[starstruckteacup]

Cottagecore Films (pt. 5)

Whisper of the Heart (1995)

starring Honna Youko, Takahashi Issei, Kobayashi Keiju, Yamashita Yorie

Fourteen year old bookworm Tsukishima Shizuku has a goal of reading 20 books before school starts, but while she’s reading, she realizes that many of her books have the same name written on the library cards: Amasawa Seiji. She begins imagining who he might be, and evolves the idea into her potential prince charming. After school begins, she encounters a cat commuting on the train, and follows him to a quiet antique shop where she meets a kind elderly man, Nishi Shiro. She soon meets Nishi’s grandson, an aspiring violin maker, who she actually had an uncomfortable encounter with at school earlier on. The two of them become friends despite their differences, until Shizuku learns that his name is Amasawa Seiji, shattering her imaginary image of him. Despite her discomfort, they continue to bond and become close friends, even meeting at school, until Seiji has to leave for Italy for school. While he’s away, Shizuku vows to write a story for him to read upon his return, as an effort to become a better person and understand what she wants to do with her life. It’s a race to get her story onto paper before he returns, a race to plan for her future, and a race to understand what her true feelings are for Seiji before it becomes too late.

I have never seen a film capture the pure essence of middle schoolers like this one. It showed the discomfort of discovering love as young teenagers in a way that was realistic but wholesome and honest. Also if Shizuku wasn’t exactly how I was as a child I don’t know what to tell you. She had the unbridled determination and complete tunnel vision of a teenager who’s set her mind to something, and no amount of real-world obligations could deter her from her goal. Her imagination ran wild as she translated it to paper, and although she was proud for finishing it she was still unhappy with the ending, as any writer--especially a first time writer--would be on their first draft. The people she loved were real with her but encouraged her throughout, a fantastic representation of how blood family and found family can help form a young person’s character. 9/10

Matilda (1996)

starring Mara Wilson, Embeth Davidtz, Danny DeVito, Rhea Pearlman, Pam Ferris

Matilda is born to grouchy, rude, and dishonest parents, Harry and Zinnia Wormwood. They consistently neglect her as she grows up, so she learns how to care for herself early on. She develops a love for books and learning, and is thrilled when her parents finally allow her to begin school. However, the school she goes to is nothing like how she expected. Principal Trunchbull, a violent and hateful woman, runs the school through brutality and fear. On the other hand, Matilda’s teacher, the gentle and kind Miss Honey, teaches her children to love learning and supports each of them individually, creating a stark contrast of joy in her classroom to the terrifying rest of the school. Over time, Matilda learns that she has some unique powers, and begins using them to protect the people she loves and punish the people who abuse those around them. She creates her own form of justice for those who have never seen repercussions for their actions, and by the end her actions pave the way for a loving home.

I’ve watched this movie many times over the years, and I’ve loved it every time. It’s witty, sweet, entertaining, and endearing. The characters are very straightforwardly portrayed, and although they don’t necessarily have complexity, they don’t need it in a film like this. The main story is about Matilda growing and learning that she deserves to be happy despite the suffering she endured, and the film delivers on that perfectly. The characters are enjoyable--even the unlikable ones--and you can’t help but love to see Matilda exact retribution when the system can’t deliver it for her. Despite everything, she is still a kind and clever young girl, just as Miss Honey is a kind and empathetic woman, which are clear messages that I definitely needed as a child, and still smile upon as an adult. It’s a fantastic movie for all ages, and will always be worth the rewatch. 10/10

Mansfield Park (1999)

TW: detailed depictions of rape, abuse, and other violence toward people of color through drawings; slavery; racist language

starring Frances O’Connor, Hannah Taylor Gordon, Johnny Lee Miller, Alessandro Nivola, Embeth Davidtz, Harold Pinter, Victoria Hamilton, James Purefoy

Young Fanny Price, at age 10, is sent away from her impoverished family to live with her mother’s family, the Bertram’s, at Mansfield Park. There she meets Edmund, a boy of her own age and similar fascination with storytelling, and the two become best friends over the years. When Fanny reaches adulthood, Sir Thomas Bertrand and his eldest son move to Antigua, where the family maintains a plantation. Upon their departure, a new sibling duo, Henry and Mary Crawford, move into the parsonage nearby. Edmund quickly falls for Mary, and after a short bit of ingracious flirting on Henry’s part to one of Edmund’s sisters, he soon develops feelings for Fanny. When Fanny refuses his advances, however, Sir Thomas sends her back to live with her family, still stricken with poverty. However, Fanny doesn’t remain for long, when a family tragedy strikes Mansfield Park and she’s needed. There, she renews her friendship with Edmund, and several astonishing complications entwine their fates once more.

As with any Jane Austen story, I greatly enjoyed the characters. Fanny is incredibly headstrong and outspoken, but always uses it in the effort of kindness. I find Austen heroines to be excellent role models for young women, and that’s not the last time you’ll hear that from me, but this portrayal of the novel was particularly well acted. O’Connor’s portrayal of her is quick-tongued and cutting when she needs to be, but more importantly her voracity for life and love shines through in her acting. I found myself laughing at her witty comebacks to being slighted, and frustrated when her affections are unknowingly spurned time and again. Austen created a very empathetic and spirited character, but O’Connor expanded her into an even more relatable young woman. All of the acting was done very well, and the settings were both cozy and beautiful, even breathtaking at times. 

I do want to make a comment regarding the trigger warnings here, given their graphic nature and how they affect my review. While I do feel that the detail depicted and the length of the scene were egregious, especially because they are never brought up again as a topic of contention, the drawings themselves were very realistic to the times. However, they are burned and disregarded in the film, and the character seen committing the abuses (Sir Thomas) does not face any consequences for them. It is a skippable scene (beginning when Fanny is looking through young Tom’s sketchbook), if such violence causes you discomfort. I personally was very disturbed as a person of color, not so much by the drawings themselves, although they were deeply unsettling, but by how Sir Thomas is never held accountable. He decides to stop being a plantation owner and takes up selling tobacco, implying that he no longer participates in slavery, but he doesn’t face any kind of backlash for it, even from his abolitionist family members. He has a happily ever after that he doesn’t deserve, and I know that is more distressing to many of us. As such, I must advise that you gain nothing in particular by watching these scene, and will lose none of the plot by skipping over it. 8/10

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four

#cottagecore #farmcore #cozycore #gardencore #grandmacore #period drama #studio ghibli #jane austen #film #film review #movie review #romance movie #movies #activities #mine

[teatimeatwinterpalace]

Hello ! Can you tell me about Charles I, King of England? I am curious about this king. Thank you :)

Sigh, my problematic fave... Charlie boy got greedy and forgot he ruled England not France lmao. 

No but no shade, of course it is more complicated than that. Charles is a very controversial figure. A number of Protestant historians have condemn him and his reign. He is often depicted as cold, indecisive, or even as a tyrant. Even though there is a certain truth in each of this qualifying adjectives, I tend to agree with historians who have written a more nuanced portrait of Charles without erasing the shaddy things he did because he did cross the line of legality. I like this quote from Katie Whitaker : "Charles was the last medieval king in Britain, a man imbued with all the ideals of chilvary, who believed he was appointed by God to rule." And here lies the tragedy. His reign was a defining moment where two conceptions of power came into collision : the divine prerogatives of the King against the privileges of Parliament.

Charles as a child had a weak constitution, some historians stated he was suffering from rickets. At some point, he conquered this physical infirmity however his speech came slowly and with difficulty and until his death he had a stutter. He spent his childhood in the shadow of his strong and radiant older brother, Henry, who he loved dearly. When Henry died in 1608, Charles was eleven, he had an excellent education, he studied French, Latin, Spanish, Italian, Greek, theology, drawing, dancing, fencing... His father, James I, was very much interested in the education of his children and one of the first letter Charles wrote to his father was :  "Sweete, Sweete Father, I learne to decline substantives and adjectives, give me your blessing, I thank you for my best man, your loving sone York". In his late teens he spent more and more time with his father even though he despised his "decadent" Court. He was religiously devot and of a strong moral stance which reflected in his Court when he was king. The guiding principles was order and decorum. Contrary to his father, he was also eager to play the role of an international statesman, which made his situation with Parliament even worse. However, he lacked confidence which caused him to be influenced by the ideas of the people he most trusted: Buckingham, his father... James could read the room, Charles unfortunately not so much. After James' passing, he started taking some of his father views to an extreme. However, it's important to note that when he came to power in 1625 the situation was already tense :

His father had a patriachal view of the monarchy. He wrote political treatises exposing his own views on the divine right of kings, stating :"‘Kings are justly called gods for that they exercise a manner or resemblance of divine power on earth". This kind of discourse didn't sit well with the House of Commons which was already sensitive on the matter of its rights and privileges. Parliament thought it had a traditional right to interfere with the policy of the realm. And so the political atmosphere soured quickly between both parties. For instance, when Parliament tried to meddle with the Spanish marriage negociations (between Charles and the Infanta of Spain) James was furious.

Parliament had considerable leverage : was the one holding the purse strings. This proved to be a thorn in the side of EVERY Stuarts rulers and it’s why throughout out the 17th century, England was shy with its foreign policy. Unlike the French King who was doing whatever he wanted, the English monarch had to beg subsidies to Parliament. Schematically, here was the usual scenario : 

King opens a new Parliamentary session because he needs moneeey, the House of Commons says maaay be but before we reeeally need to discuss something else *push his own agenda*, *criticise the royal policy* (rumor has it that you can still hear the king muttering not agaaain), thus ensues many excruciating negotiations and conflicts which usually ends up with the king saying fuck you and either proroguing or dissoluting his Parliament (this hot mess found its peak during the Exclusion Crisis, was a real soap opera lol). 

Again, it is schematical because even in the House of Commons some MPs were content with James' patriachal views. Anyway, at the core, it was truly a battle between royal prerogative and privilege!

THEN, you add the very sensitive matter of religion, its impact on politics was huge.

There were the Anglicans and Presbyterians which didn't see eye to eye. Yet compromises were made which made coexistence bearable for some while others fled to Europe or in the colonies in order to set up their own independent churches. James had hoped to bring the two Churches together and to create uniformity across the two kingdoms (Scotland & England). He tried to establish a Prayer Book similar to that used in England but faced with great opposition, he withdrew. (but guess who tried to follow daddy’s steps but didn’t withdrew?)

And last but not least... who the English despised the most above all? The followers of this boy right here...

... CATHOLICS, satan's minions on earth. 

With the outbreak of the Thirty Years War in Europe the fear of Catholicism was very much alive. Charles and Buckingham pushed James to summoned Parliament to ask for money to finance a war with Spain. The very much anti-Catholic Parliament agreed to the subsidies but unfortunately the expedition failed. James died, and Charles at the age of 24 had to deal with the consequenses. 

Relations between King and Parliament deteriorated quickly. There were the matter of war + Buckingham had negotiated a marriage for Charles to Henrietta Maria, the sister of the French King, promising that she would be permitted to practise her own Catholic religion, and that English ships would help to suppress a French Protestant rebellion in La Rochelle. Obviously, Parliament was furious especially towards Buckingham and Charles was forced to dissolve Parliament. For the King it was a direct challenge to his right to appoint his advisers and to govern. The Privy Council started to consider ways of raising money without the help of Parliament : forced loan, ship money... let's say that from here it started to go downhill.

For the matter of religion, unfortunately the caution of James I was replaced by Charles' desire for uniformity. Moreover, the King was interested by the Arminian group which was an alternative to the rigid Calvinism : the emphasis was on ritual and sacraments and they rejected the doctrine of predestination. Howerver, for many English, this group had too much ties with Catholicism. Also, some of them were great supporters of a heightened royal power which freaked out a lot of people who feared a sort of takeover. Of course, as often with fears and phobias, it was out of proportion with reality. Nonetheless, for many, Arminian meant : Catholicism +  absolute monarchy = tyranny. When William Laud (the Arminian leader) became Bishop of London in 1628, another stormy Parliament session took place. Charles decided to prorogue it but the Commons refused and they passed the Three Resolutions which condemned the collection of tonnage and poundage that Charles was doing without their consent as well as the doctrine and practice of Arminianism. Charles dissolved the Parliament and proclaimed he intended to govern without the Parliament until it calms the fuck down. This proved to be a significant breakdown within the system of government and the situation got a whole lot worse.

It's already a lot right? BUT HANG ON because in this very healthy anti-Catholicism atmosphere who Charles married? A FRENCH CATHOLIC PRINCESS. It made the crown more vulnerable and perhaps a lot of things would have been different if she had been Protestant but damn they were good together!!! The romance of Charles and Henrietta Maria is one of the greatest love stories in history. At first one could say it was a mismatched couple : a Protestant King with a Catholic Princess. Their differences and lack of understanding made their earlier years together complicated and turbulent. There were lot of quarrels and yet, they fell passionately in love. Their daughter, Princess Elizabeth wrote an account the day before Charles was beheaded and she said: “He bid us tell my mother that his thoughts had never strayed from her, and that his love would be the same to the last.” Lina wrote on her blog her top 10 favourite titbits of info of love and heartache about Charles I & Henrietta Maria, go check it out ;)

This is getting too long lol I'm not going to get into what most historians called his "personnal reign" and the civil wars. I just hope that this couple of informations made you want to find more about Charles and his time :) 

Don't settle for just one book about him because as I said at the beginning, he is a very controversial figure and lot of biographies (not so much with the recent ones but still) tend to insist on his supposedly taste for "tyranny" and romanticise the role of Parliament (aka the whole Whig historiography). Charles' reign sparked off a revolution where new ideals of liberty and citizens' rights were born HOWEVER it was a matter of decades/centuries for these ideas to penetrate society and every strats of the political spectrum. The Parliament's ideology of the 1620-1640 (and then during the Restoration) had a very nostalgic vision of politics. The idea of reform was light years away from these ultraconservative men.

But to be honest even outside Parliament. When you look at men such as Fénelon, Bolingbroke or Montesquieu. They were all convinced that a restoration (often of a magnified past) was the only response to the evils of their time. Reform in the early modern period, whether it was religious or political, was thought as a restoration. It's in mid-18th century that the shift happened, the future was at last conceivable. Anyway, all of that is to say that I'm a bit wary of all the authors who depict the MPs of this period as great reformers, who fought against the tyranny. They were mostly conservative men and very attached to THEIR priviliges.

#answer #am i going to hell for making this photomontage of pope urbain viii? #probably #was it worth it? #yes

[pangolin-404]

Delving into what chapter 2 of Bendy: Rewritten (or just the side scroller AU, as a couple people have called it- still working on a vaguely clever name hh) would be like, where there are choices and reactions! More canon divergence! Things set up and hinted at!

The background music changes. No shame to batim's music, I quite like it, but it can be better. Whenever Sammy's around (carrying the cutout, looking over the band room, giving his ritual spiel) a banjo is added to the bg track. The followers get string instruments, more added depending how many are in the room. The sacrifice room is mainly string instruments

Sammy is somewhat a lost one. He loses his buff rights and is a mix of his pre- and post-update designs. I say somewhat because, while he is skeletal, he drips a lot and doesn't really have feet.

Sammy actually has followers. It can be pieced together from notes and dialogue that he split from the Lost Harbor after a close run in with Bendy permanently mangled his body and converted him to worship. He brought a few other lost ones with him (like, only a dozen but a couple died on the way). They wear Bendy masks, too, yet he's the only one wearing pants (mostly to hold his legs together). He also wears gloves to hold his fingers together, and only takes them off for brief periods to play an instrument before having to put them back on. Bendy left him with a lot of lasting damage

They all look the same and they know it hh

He's a proper prophet figure now that people look up to him. If Henry can find them huddled around a statue in prayer or drawing a ritual circle, they will talk about how much hope he gives them and how kind he is, despite how strict or overly optimistic he can be at times.

The followers' opinion of Henry changes with his behavior. Suggest Sammy is nuts? Say Bendy is evil? Drink too much soup? Break cutouts? They don't like that. Ask to learn more, give them some fresh soup, maybe even draw Bendy for them if Henry comes across fresh paper, and they'll appreciate it.

The cutouts are decorated with soup and candles. Drink a couple cans and the followers won't notice, drink more and they'll be upset, drink them all and they'll get concerned. Ink rats will scuttle out of hiding and can be found licking the empty cans.

Oh yeah you think humans were the only thing the ink affected? No there are ink rats and they scuttle around. Sometimes they become an enemy if multiple melt/fuse together and it's just a Lump Of Rat

"Did you drink the soup?" "No, did you?" "We don't have mouths! We can't eat!" "Who drank all the soup then?" "I don't know, but now there are rats everywhere!"

The whole chapter 2 area is bigger, kind of. Lots more signs of being lived in, with offices turned into little bedrooms and such. The followers are shy, though, and lurk behind locked doors, so finding them is tricky. Signs of life are everywhere but finding the life itself is difficult. Finding ones that talk more than a sentence is even harder.

Sammy is unhinged. Well-meaning, but ultimately mentally...cracked. He claims to have visions he interprets, but it's ambiguous whether they're nightmares/dreams or if Bendy's messing with him. He genuinely believes that Bendy will set them free, and he wants the best for his sheep. He'd be amicable if he wasn't trying to sacrifice Henry.

Instead of pressing the switches to open that first door, Henry had to find a pipe valve. A new "mechanic" of sorts is draining flooded halls. Ink pours down from piped above in an unpassable wall, and one or two valve are needed to shut it off completely.

Remember those notes I mentioned earlier? Well, some found around the music department contain buckets of how the followers see Sammy and their situation in general. They range from "oh hey here's Sammy's favorite tune-" to "note: don't play the organ! D:"

It's possible to find old newspapers and comics. Some of the pictures have been carefully cut out and pasted on the walls in various memorials, ranging from Bendy letting them outside to Sammy being "blessed" by the Ink Demon.

Some of the more petty depictions paint Alice as a jerk. She's an angel, he's a demon, so they're opposites. Since Bendy's so great, she must be awful! Rumors of a cruel Alice in deeper levels are hinted at.

The band room is slightly different. The projector's bulb is burst and there's a sticky note on it saying something about how touching it when you're made of ink is a bad idea, and to fix the projector before Sammy notices. Henry has to find a lightbulb and fix it now before he can turn it on.

The fight after opening the sanctuary affects the followers' opinions. They begin to realize what Sammy has in store for Henry. Killing all the searchers make them either makes them wince or frustrated, depending on their view on him up til that point.

I feel like you could probably click/interact with the banister to look over and it shows a still image of the band room below, and it shows whether or not the projector is fixed/playing and also shows any Bendy cutouts that pop up. I tried to draw that but couldn't get the angle I wanted, so

Sammy's sanctuary is like...just a big ol Bendy shrine. It's also where he sleeps, writes songs to Bendy, and where his banjo is kept. He has a Bendy plush on his bed

The further the chapter goes on, the quieter the followers are to Henry. They're gathering candles and offerings of personal belongings. They might be bittersweet, neutral, or glad to be away from him, depending on Henry's actions.

Jack is important to Sammy. They worked closely together and so they somewhat remember each other. He acts as Sammy's personal treasurer and doesn't let go of anything given to him. The first encounter with Jack is relatively the same, with needing to grab a valve from him. However, instead of holding the valve, it's sitting on the box

Henry's notes in his sketchbook also change depending on his interactions with things. If he annoys the followers and develops a bad relationship with them, he'll treat them like blind fools. If he helps them or is generally nice, he'll sound more sympathetic towards their situation and wish them well.

One is in the infirmary, badly hurt, missing a leg, practically a searcher, and delusional after getting just grazed by Bendy's aura. They believe they've been blessed by his presence, despite falling apart more and more by the hour (Bendy and any ink creature do not go together-). Henry can kill them and put them out of their misery, if he so chooses. The others won't like that.

Whether Henry kills him or not, Jack remembers. Getting items from him in the future becomes harder if he's killed multiple times, until eventually he's downright scared (I'll delve into more detail on the mess that is chapter 3). Befriending him completely later in chapter 3, on the other hand, will make the task easier.

Killing Jack triggers a horror vision. Henry briefly becomes unable to move, visibly distressed and looking around until the vision ends.

Not necessarily the sewers you first encounter him in, but close enough. You know you've entered an area Jack's in if there's a random item on a box that's under a light in an otherwise dim ink-flooded room

He goes through 'stages.' First the valve is on a box. Henry tries to grab it, but Jack (moving through the ink) pushes the box away. The methods of dealing with him is a messy web of cause-and-effect, with chances to crush him, corner the box slowly and steal the valve, it rush at it and cause it to slide off, or snatch his hat and bargain. (It's possible to steal his hat, kill him, and then keep/wear his hat, but why would you do that? Jack would forever loathe Henry and later on Sammy may ask for it back)

Nothing will stop Sammy from knocking Henry out. No matter how kind or cruel Henry is to his followers, Sammy will smack him over the head with a dustpan. He can't run, but the man can be sneaky if he wants to be, lurking through shadows and phasing in and out of the ritual portals.

(Clarification: because it would be a side scroller and the player could see Sammy sneaking up on Henry, instead there's a ritual circle on the wall that he'll jump out of when Henry walks past it.)

The sacrifice room is more of a hallway. The followers are all watching from the sidelines, peering through knocked out walls and over makeshift fenceposts. Candles and other offerings are around Henry. Sammy gives his spiel as always, first starting with a quiet "that face..." whispered mostly to himself but then using his Big Loud Musician Prophet voice to put on a show about how grand the sacrifice will be and how happy Bendy will be. The followers get excited for it.

Messy rendition but you get the picture

Sammy enters the room off to the side and calls for the Ink Demon. Ink leaks from the vents, and his aura is making some of the followers unsteady/weak. They become more restless, and unstable, until the calling reaches its climax (Sammy also sounds out of breath and his voice becomes wet and labored) and Bendy arrives out of sight. Sammy is torn apart, as per usual, though it's a slower, more audible mauling, and drags on through Henry's escape.

Some followers flee into the ink, while one or two are liquidated just by Bendy's aura. Others panic and attack Henry when he breaks free, messed up by Bendy's aura and so they resemble searchers.

Whether or not Henry powers through the onslaught or axes the frenzied followers may alter the number of followers he encounters later on, and (combined with how he'd treated them) how they react to seeing him again. "Oh I kind of remember you" vs "I don't blame you for using the axe" vs "Did you slaughter your way down here, too?"

Like in the updated chapters in game, the you can see ink machine lowering past crates/wood boards

Bendy actually pries himself up out of the ink with effort. Like, hands planted on the ground, lurching up, ink sloughing off of him, generally more detailed for a 2D animation.

Boris time! The boy himself peeks out from behind a wall before stepping out of the shadows

Feel free to send an ask for clarification/more detail about anything- I'm happy to go on more tangents!

#rants #batim au #Bendy: Rewritten #batim but it's a side scroller multiple choice game #but not really a game because i'm not a programmer so i will instead share every single choice and outcome #batim

[jeremystrele]

10 Unmissable Art Exhibitions Of 2020

10 Unmissable Art Exhibitions Of 2020

Art

by Sally Tabart

Henri Matisse – ‘The sorrow of the king (La tristesse du roi)’ , 1952. gouache on paper, cut and pasted, mounted on canvas. Courtesy of AGNSW.

Henri Matisse – ‘Blue nude II (Nu bleu II)’ 1952. Courtesy of AGNSW.

Henri Matisse – ‘Decorative figure on an ornamental ground (Figure décorative sur fond ornemental)’, 1925. Courtesy of AGNSW.

Matisse: Life & Spirit November 2020 – March 2021 Art Gallery of New South Wales, NSW

It’s no surprise that one of the most prestigious galleries in the country, Art Gallery of New South Wales (AGNSW) will show a dynamic exhibition from one of the most famous and influential artists of all time, Henri Matisse.

Exclusive to AGNSW, Matisse: life & spirit, masterpieces from the Centre Pompidou will show over 100 works spanning six decades from the French master.

Developed alongside the Centre Pompidou in Paris, known for its unmatched collection of Matisse works, Matisse: life & spirit will be the greatest single exhibition of Matisse masterworks ever to be seen in Sydney. Yep – you’ll be able to see his famed cut-outs, but also his adventures in paintings, sculptures, and drawings, tracking the vast and varied exploration of his artistic career. This is TRULY unmissable!

Left to right: Dhuwarrwarr Marika Makassan, swords and long knives, Carlene Thompson, Kipara and Kalaya. Photo – courtesy of MAGNT.

Telstra National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Art Awards (NATSIAA) August 8th 2020 – January 31st 2021 Museum and Art Gallery Northern Territory, NT

Now in its 36th year, the Telstra National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Art Awards (NATSIAA) is a major highlight for the Museum and Art Gallery of Northern Territory (MAGNT) in Darwin. This fantastic exhibition spotlights emerging and established Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander artists across a varying range of mediums, and attracts more than 85,000 visitors.

This exhibition is so important for visitors to gain an insight into First Nations People’s perspective in both contemporary interpretations, as well as those steeped in generations of tradition. It also offers some prize money of up to $50,000 for winning artists, courtesy of longtime sponsor Telstra. All finalists’ work will be displayed in the world-class exhibition, opening in August.

Left: Mikala Dwyer: a shape of thought featuring The Angel; Possession; Sigil for Heaven and Earth by Mikala Dwyer, Art Gallery of New South Wales, Sydney, 2017. Photo – Mim Stirling. Right: Julia Robinson, Australia, 1981, Beatrice, 2019–20.

Adelaide Biennial of Australian Art February 29th – June 8th 2020 Art Gallery South Australia, SA

This year the Art Gallery of South Australia welcomes the hugely popular Adelaide Biennial of Australian Art back for its 30th year. Known for its risk-taking and expansive vision, the Biennial welcomes the wild, wacky, weird and wonderful.

The theme of the 2020 iteration is Monster Theatres, inviting artists to bring to life the ‘monsters’ of today. As described by curator Leigh Robb, ‘Monsters ask us to interrogate our relationships with each other, the environment and technology. They force us to question our empathy towards differences across race, gender, sexuality and spirituality.’

Artists involved in the Biennial include Abdul Abdullah, Polly Borland, Yhonnie Scarce + many more!

Olafur Eliasson, Riverbed 2014. Photo – Natasha Harth, QAGOMA.

Water December 7th 2019 – April 26th 2020 Gallery of Modern Art, QLD

Brisbane’s Gallery of Modern Art never fails to disappoint with its innovative, world-class programming – and Water is no exception! Exploring the theme of, you guessed it, Water, this exhibition explores this vital element from the perspective of artists around the world.

Here is some of what you can expect, according to GOMA:

‘Walk across a vast, rocky riverbed created by Olafur Eliasson. See animals from around the world gather together to drink from Cai Guo-Qiang’s brilliant blue waterhole. Gaze at Peter Fischli and David Weiss’s snowman frozen in Brisbane’s summer heat. Traverse a cloud of suspended gymnastic rings in a participatory artwork by William Forsythe. View the tidal currents rise and fall around Angela Tiatia. Reflect on the cultural traditions of bodies of water with Judy Watson, and on the long history of our reliance on water through Megan Cope’s re-created midden.’

Left to Right: Photo by Beth Wilkinson for Lindsay. Stanislava Pinchuk, ‘Topography : Topsoil Storage II, Fukushima Nuclear Exclusion Zone.’ Pin-holes on paper, 2017. Image courtesy of the artist. Photo – Matthew R. Stanton. Stanislava Pinchuk, ‘Topography : The Road to the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Plant’. Pin-holes on paper,  2017. Photo – Matthew R. Stanton.

  Stanislava Pinchuk June 27th – October 4th 2020 Heide Museum of Modern Art, VIC

Stanislava Pinchuk (also known by her pseudonym, Miso) has emerged as one of Australia’s intriguing contemporary artists in the last decade. The Ukranian-born, Melbourne-based artist captures the changing topographies of war and conflict zones through data mapping, making tiny, individual pin pricks to realise these patterns – an incredibly labour-intensive and mentally and physically draining process that appears effortless, and beautiful.

This major exhibition at Heide Museum of Modern Art in Melbourne will feature a survey of Stanislava’s most powerful pinprick projects from the past five years, accompanied by terrazzo-like sculptures comprised of pieces of debris left behind in conflict zones.

Know My Name: Australian Women Artists 1900 to Now May 30th – September 13th 2020 National Gallery of Australia, ACT

The National Gallery of Australia (NGA) celebrates its ongoing initiative to increase representation of artists who identify as women with Know My Name: Australian Women Artists 1900 to Now.

Drawing on works from the National Gallery’s own collection, as well as others from across Australia, Know My Name showcases the work of lesser-known artists alongside Australian greats from different times, places and cultures.

As part of the broader Know My Name initiative, a new commission by the Tjanpi Desert Weavers will be on display at the National Gallery. Patricia Piccinini’s iconic Skywhale (2013) will also see its new counterpart, Skywhalepapa (2020) ascend over Canberra on its maiden voyage, travelling alongside Skywhale eight times during the exhibition period.

  Left: Pierre Bonnard – French 1867–1947 The dining room in the country, 1913. Right: India Mahdavi (designer). Jardin d’intérieur – collection for La Manufacture de Cogolin. Images courtesy of the NGV.

Pierre Bonnard designed by India Mahdavi June 5th – October 4th 2020 National Gallery of Victoria

While Sydney-siders enjoy the masterful works of Henri Matisse, Melbournites won’t miss out on the opportunity to experience an incredible exhibition of another beloved French painter! The exquisite works of Pierre Bonnard will be on show at the National Gallery of Victoria (NGV) for their major winter showcase, a kaleidoscopic exhibition of 150 works from the painter with a fondness for domestic scenes and rural life. Pierre Bonnard has been developed in partnership with Musee d’Orsay in Paris.

Described by Matisse, a close friend of Bonnard’s, as ‘a great painter, for today and definitely also for the future’, this groundbreaking exhibition spans paintings, drawings, photographs, folding screens and early cinema, depicting scenes of modern 20th century France in bright, vivid colours.

Aside from the opportunity to see one of the works of this beloved painter, what makes this exhibition absolutely unmissable is the design of the show itself. Iranian Paris-based designer India Mahdavi (the interiors genius behind the iconic pink Gallery at Sketch restaurant in London) has been commissioned by the NGV to bring Bonnard’s extraordinary works to life, elegantly balancing historical references with contemporary culture in an immersive experience.

22nd Biennale of Sydney, NIRIN November 8th 2020 – 16th February 2021 Various locations, NSW

First held in 1973 as part of the opening celebrations of the Sydney Opera House, the Biennale of Sydney is now in its 22nd year and is one of Australia’s blockbuster contemporary art events.

Taking place across six major sites – Art Gallery of New South Wales, Artspace, Campbelltown Arts Centre, Cockatoo Island, Museum of Contemporary Art Australia and the National Art School – the Biennale of Sydney will see 94 artists from 47 countries

Under the guidance of multidisciplinary artist and this year’s Biennale Artistic Director Brook Andrew, the 12-week exhibition is titled NIRIN, meaning ‘edge’ in Brook’s mother’s Nation – the Wiradjuri people of western New South Wales. He says, ‘Optimism from chaos drives artists in NIRIN to resolve the often hidden or ignored urgency surrounding contemporary life.’

Carriageworks Commissions Rebecca Baumann: Radiant Flux, January 8th – June 14th Reko Rennie: REMEMBER ME, January 2020 – January 2021 Kate Mitchell: All Auras Touch, January 8th – March 1st Daniel Boyd: Video Works, January 8th – March 1st

Australia’s largest multi-arts centre, Carriageworks, has been home to some pretty major large-scale installation commissions in its time (who could forget German artist Katherina Grosse’s otherworldly technicoloured universe in 2018?). This summer, four new site-specific commissions from leading Australian artists Rebecca Baumann, Daniel Boyd, Kate Mitchell and Reko Rennie have taken residence in the epic historical space.

Spanning over 100-metres, Rebecca Baumann’s Radiant Flux sees every glass surface of the building’s exterior covered in a film that changes colour at every angle, flooding the space with kaleidoscopic light that will never be the same twice.

A study in human energy, All Aurus Touch by Kate Mitchell captures an aura portrait for each of the 1,023 census-recognised occupations.

Video Works by Kudjala/Gangalu artist Daniel Boyd features three major video installations, where gallery walls will be mapped with the artist’s otherworldly, infinite cosmos.

Interdisciplinary Kamilaroi artist Reko Rennie references the massacre of First Nations people in Remember Me, a massive illuminated sign that will remain on display for the whole of 2020, the year marking the 250th anniversary of Captain Cook’s first landfall.

Installation view of the Archibald, Wynne and Sulman Prizes 2019 exhibition at the Art Gallery of New South Wales, Sydney. Photo: AGNSW.

Archibald, Wynne & Sulman Prizes May 9th – September 6th 2020 Art Gallery of New South Wales, NSW

The Archibald, Wynne & Sulman Prizes are some of the most prestigious and highly anticipated art events in the country. Since its inception in 1921, The Archibald Prize the most well-known of the three awards celebrates paintings of notable figures that reflect Australian culture across areas including art, media, entertainment, politics, sports and more. The works are always a great capsule to represent Australian culture of the moment.

Finalists for the Archibald (portrait), Wynne (landscape/scenery) and Sulman (genre/subject) are shown in an exhibition that starts at the Art Gallery of New South Wales, and tours at select galleries around Australia for the remainder of the year.

[funkymbtifiction]

Why the movie Elizabeth I is Isfp? Could you compare her to real life Elizabeth I? And how would 458 tritype manifests in ENFP? Thanks!!

Why is she an ISFP? Coz Michael Hurst wrote her that way. ‘Course I don’t have much respect for how he depicts the Tudors, honesty. He got Henry VIII wrong (too many mistresses, too open about his affairs, too many public tantrums – the real Henry VIII was a 3w2 to whom the appearance of propriety was everything, and he only had two mistresses we’re sure about); he got Katharine of Aragon wrong (she comes across as a bitter old thing, constantly moping – the real Katharine was a bad-ass, probably also a 3w2, who threw parties up until the bitter end, which cracked me up so hard); he got Anne Boleyn wrong (making her a manipulative, sexually promiscuous schemer rather than a virginal sexually harassed woman who kept telling Henry “no” until he wore her down – watch Anne of the Thousand Days for a MUCH more realistic Anne Boleyn); he got Thomas Cromwell wrong (frankly, his is nicer); the only two characters in The Tudors I think he got right on were Mary I and Sir Thomas More. So naturally he’d get Elizabeth wrong. ;)

Movie Elizabeth: Makes all emotional decisions, lets people off the hook who betray her out of sentiment, is oblivious to how her sexual affair with Dudley is going to have repercussions for future alliances, isn’t sure what to do, has no grand vision until she decides to become a symbol of England.

Historical Elizabeth: A shrewd, scheming power-manipulator, who never let her emotions get away from her, who likely preserved her virginity her entire life (unless Thomas Seymour took it from her, but let’s not talk about That Asshole) because she knew that was a goldmine for a queen (and also, that once she gave it away, her power would go with it), who learned from all her sister’s mistakes when it came to dynastic alliances and pushing religion down people’s throats, who evaded execution because they could never trap her into saying anything incriminating, who always knew well in advance what she was going to do (and then tricked / mislead her advisers into thinking she didn’t), who never let sentiment stand in her way of securing her throne, and who had the most enormous inferior Fi / 8-fix tantrums that she would pass out from being unable to breathe in her corset, from screaming so loud. Also, she had a servant whose permanent job was to follow her around and pick up the diamonds that fell off her dresses. That is your free historical tidbit.

If you want a more historically accurate (in terms of personality) Elizabeth I on screen, Glenda Jackson from the old BBC Miniseries is probably THE Elizabeth. She also plays the same role across from Vanessa Redgrave’s Mary Queen of Scots. If those are too old for your taste, the Masterpiece Theatre’s Elizabeth I isn’t half bad (… didn’t Tom Hardy even play Robert Dudley? I think so?, with Anne Marie Duff) and, of course, Helen Mirren plays her extremely well in the HBO miniseries. It’ll be interesting to see Margot Robbie’s take. ;)

If pressed, I’d say historical Elizabeth was a ENTJ 683. She had the distrust, suspicion, and charm of the 6, also a tendency to pull away from blame; the aggression and domineering nature of an 8 (which never apologized for her anger), and the frankly egotism of a 3 (but also the melodrama of a 4, so…). Not sure about her wings. Likely 6w7 8w9 3w4 or even 4w3. She could be a real “sexual tease” (leading men on, and never giving them an inch). sp/sx maybe?

I don’t do tritype + MBTI variation asks anymore, since if I do one, everyone will want one, and it’s all speculation that you can put together based on how you handle fear, your ego, and your anger. You can visit our /enneagram page and reading the fixes under Profiles. =)

- ENFP Mod

#question #historical typing #elizabeth i #the tudors

[ucflibrary]

American history is a broad and varied topic. It ranges from the native inhabitants who formed communities here thousands of years ago to the creation of a new nation of states to the dreamers who immigrate to these shores today. It is an enormous amount of information to cover, but it is important that we all learn about our past. As Edmund Burke said in Reflections on the Revolution in France, “Those who don’t know history are destined to repeat it.”

The founders of the United States, beyond their faults and foibles, began this nation with a grand and noble sentiment of “We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity….”

“We the people” is us. Join us this month as we explore our past to help ensure “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” applies to us all.

Click on the Read More link to see the full list, descriptions, and catalog links for the featured titles on American History suggested by UCF Library employees. These 24 books plus many more are also on display on the 2nd (main) floor of the John C. Hitt Library next to the bank of two elevators.

11/22/63 by Stephen King On November 22, 1953, three shots rang out in Dallas, President Kennedy died, and the world changed. What if you could change it back? In this brilliantly conceived tour de force, Stephen King—who has absorbed the social, political, and popular culture of his generation more imaginatively and thoroughly than any other writer—takes readers on an incredible journey into the past and the possibility of altering it. Suggested by Kathleen Silva, Libraries Student Ambassador

 A History of the American People by Paul Johnson This challenging narrative and interpretation of American history by the author of many distinguished historical works is sometimes controversial and always provocative. Johnson’s views of individuals, events, themes, and issues are original, critical, and admiring, for he is, above all, a strong believer in the history and the destiny of the American people. Suggested by Allison Hilton, Libraries Student Ambassador

 A Map to the Next World: poetry and tales by Joy Harjo The poet author of The Woman Who Fell from the Sky, and new poet laureate of the U.S., draws on her own Native American heritage in a collection of lyrical poetry that explores the cruelties and tragedies of history and the redeeming miracles of human kindness. Suggested by Jada Reyes, Libraries Student Ambassador

 Alex and Eliza by Melissa De la Cruz In the pages of Alex and Eliza, #1 New York Times bestselling author Melissa de la Cruz brings to life the romance of young Alexander Hamilton and Elizabeth Schuyler. Suggested by Kathleen Silva, Libraries Student Ambassador

 American Canopy: trees, forests, and the making of a nation by Eric Rutkow (UCF Faculty Author) As Eric Rutkow’s brilliant, epic account shows, trees were essential to the early years of the republic and indivisible from the country’s rise as both an empire and a civilization. Among American Canopy’s many fascinating stories: the Liberty Trees, where colonists gathered to plot rebellion against the British; Henry David Thoreau’s famous retreat into the woods; the creation of New York City’s Central Park; the great fire of 1871 that killed a thousand people in the lumber town of Peshtigo, Wisconsin; the fevered attempts to save the American chestnut and the American elm from extinction; and the controversy over spotted owls and the old-growth forests they inhabited. Rutkow also explains how trees were of deep interest to such figures as George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, Teddy Roosevelt, and FDR, who oversaw the planting of more than three billion trees nationally in his time as president. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Subject Librarian

 Americans Remember Their Civil War by Barbara A. Gannon (UCF Faculty Author) This book provides readers with an overview of how Americans have commemorated and remembered the Civil War. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Subject Librarian

 Beneath a Ruthless Sun: a true story of violence, race, and justice lost and found by Gilbert King Beneath a Ruthless Sun tells a powerful, page-turning story rooted in the fears that rippled through the South as integration began to take hold, sparking a surge of virulent racism that savaged the vulnerable, debased the powerful, and roils our own times still. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Subject Librarian

 Elizabeth Warren: her fight, her work, her life by Antonia Felix In this breakthrough biography, bestselling author Antonia Felix carries readers from Warren's hardscrabble roots in Norman, Oklahoma, to her career as one of the nation's most distinguished legal scholars and experts on the economics of working Americans. Felix reveals how Warren brought her expertise to Washington to become an icon of progressive politics in a deeply divided nation, and weaves together never-before-told stories from those who have journeyed with Warren from Oklahoma to the halls of power. Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

 Hamilton: the revolution: being the complete libretto of the Broadway musical, with a true account of its creation, and concise remarks on hip-hop, the power of stories, and the new America by Lin-Manuel Miranda and Jeremy McCarter This book gives readers an unprecedented view of both revolutions, from the only two writers able to provide it. Miranda, along with Jeremy McCarter, a cultural critic and theater artist who was involved in the project from its earliest stages and traces its development from an improbable performance at the White House to its landmark opening night on Broadway six years later. In addition, Miranda has written more than 200 funny, revealing footnotes for his award-winning libretto, the full text of which is published here. Suggested by Katie Burroughs, Administration

  Historians on Hamilton: how a blockbuster musical is restaging America's past edited by Renee C. Romano and Claire Bond Potter Historians on Hamilton brings together a collection of top scholars to explain the Hamilton phenomenon and explore what it might mean for our understanding of America’s history. The contributors examine what the musical got right, what it got wrong, and why it matters. Does Hamilton’s hip-hop take on the Founding Fathers misrepresent our nation’s past, or does it offer a bold positive vision for our nation’s future? Can a musical so unabashedly contemporary and deliberately anachronistic still communicate historical truths about American culture and politics? And is Hamilton as revolutionary as its creators and many commentators claim? Suggested by Katie Burroughs, Administration

 John Marshall: the man who made the Supreme Court by Richard Brookhiser In 1801, a genial and brilliant Revolutionary War veteran and politician became the fourth chief justice of the United States. He would hold the post for 34 years (still a record), expounding the Constitution he loved. Before he joined the Supreme Court, it was the weakling of the federal government, lacking in dignity and clout. After he died, it could never be ignored again. Through three decades of dramatic cases involving businessmen, scoundrels, Native Americans, and slaves, Marshall defended the federal government against unruly states, established the Supreme Court's right to rebuke Congress or the president, and unleashed the power of American commerce. For better and for worse, he made the Supreme Court a pillar of American life. Suggested by Larry Cooperman, Research & Information Services

 Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American History Textbook Got Wrong by James W. Loewen Americans have lost touch with their history, and in Lies My Teacher Told Me Professor James Loewen shows why. After surveying eighteen leading high school American history texts, he has concluded that not one does a decent job of making history interesting or memorable. Marred by an embarrassing combination of blind patriotism, mindless optimism, sheer misinformation, and outright lies, these books omit almost all the ambiguity, passion, conflict, and drama from our past. Suggested by Emily Parente, Libraries Student Ambassador

 My Own Words by Ruth Bader Ginsburg with Mary Hartnett and Wendy W. Williams In this collection Justice Ginsburg discusses gender equality, the workings of the Supreme Court, being Jewish, law and lawyers in opera, and the value of looking beyond US shores when interpreting the US Constitution. Throughout her life Justice Ginsburg has been (and continues to be) a prolific writer and public speaker. This book’s sampling is selected by Justice Ginsburg and her authorized biographers Mary Hartnett and Wendy W. Williams, who introduce each chapter and provide biographical context and quotes gleaned from hundreds of interviews they have conducted. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

 News for all the people: the epic story of race and the American media by Juan Gonzlez and Joseph Torres From colonial newspapers to the Internet age, America’s racial divisions have played a central role in the creation of the country’s media system, just as the media has contributed to—and every so often, combated—racial oppression. This acclaimed book reveals how racial segregation distorted the information Americans have received, even as it depicts the struggle of Black, Latino, Asian, and Native American journalists who fought to create a vibrant yet little-known alternative, democratic press. Suggested by Jada Reyes, Libraries Student Ambassador

 Shade: a tale of two presidents by Pete Souza Shade is a portrait in Presidential contrasts, telling the tale of the Obama and Trump administrations through a series of visual juxtapositions. Here, more than one hundred of Souza's unforgettable images of President Obama deliver new power and meaning when framed by the tweets, news headlines, and quotes that defined the first 500 days of the Trump White House. Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

 Team of Rivals: the political genius of Abraham Lincoln by Doris Kearns Goodwin Acclaimed historian Doris Kearns Goodwin illuminates Lincoln's political genius in this highly original work, as the one-term congressman and prairie lawyer rises from obscurity to prevail over three gifted rivals of national reputation to become president. Suggested by Joan Reynolds, Interlibrary Loan & Document Delivery Services

 The Book that Changed America: how Darwin's theory of evolution ignited a nation by Randall Fuller Creating a rich tableau of nineteenth-century American intellectual culture, as well as providing a fascinating biography of perhaps the single most important idea of that time, The Book That Changed America is also an account of issues and concerns still with us today, including racism and the enduring conflict between science and religion. Suggested by Christina Wray, Teaching & Engagement

 The Breakthrough: Politics and Race in the Age of Obama by Gwen Ifill Veteran journalist Gwen Ifill surveys the American political landscape, shedding new light on the impact of Barack Obama’s stunning presidential victory and introducing the emerging young African American politicians forging a bold new path to political power. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

 The Devil in the White City: murder, magic, and madness at the fair that changed America by Erik Larson Erik Larson—author of #1 bestseller In the Garden of Beasts—intertwines the true tale of the 1893 World's Fair and the cunning serial killer who used the fair to lure his victims to their death. Combining meticulous research with nail-biting storytelling, Erik Larson has crafted a narrative with all the wonder of newly discovered history and the thrills of the best fiction. Suggested by Rachel Edford, Teaching & Engagement

 The Dictionary Wars: the American fight over the English language by Peter Martin Peter Martin recounts the patriotic fervor in the early American republic to produce a definitive national dictionary that would rival Samuel Johnson’s 1755 Dictionary of the English Language. But what began as a cultural war of independence from Britain devolved into a battle among lexicographers, authors, scholars, and publishers, all vying for dictionary supremacy and shattering forever the dream of a unified American language. Suggested by Christina Wray, Teaching & Engagement

 The Field of Blood: violence in Congress and the road to civil war by Joanne B. Freeman Joanne B. Freeman recovers the long-lost story of physical violence on the floor of the U.S. Congress. Drawing on an extraordinary range of sources, she shows that the Capitol was rife with conflict in the decades before the Civil War. Legislative sessions were often punctuated by mortal threats, canings, flipped desks, and all-out slugfests. When debate broke down, congressmen drew pistols and waved Bowie knives. One representative even killed another in a duel. Many were beaten and bullied in an attempt to intimidate them into compliance, particularly on the issue of slavery. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Subject Librarian

The Law by Frederic Bastiat The Law was originally published as a pamphlet in 1850 by Frederic Bastiat (1801-1850). Bastiat wrote most of his work in the few years before and after the French Revolution of 1848. The Law is considered a classic and his ideas are still relevant today. The essay was published in French in 1850. Suggested by Allison Hilton, Libraries Student Ambassador

The Truths We Hold: an American journey by Kamala Harris By reckoning with the big challenges we face together, drawing on the hard-won wisdom and insight from her own career and the work of those who have most inspired her, Kamala Harris offers a master class in problem solving, in crisis management, and leadership in challenging times. Through the arc of her own life, on into the great work of our day, she communicates a vision of shared struggle, shared purpose, and shared values. In a book rich in many home truths, not least is that a relatively small number of people work very hard to convince a great many of us that we have less in common than we actually do, but it falls to us to look past them and get on with the good work of living our common truth. When we do, our shared effort will continue to sustain us and this great nation, now and in the years to come. Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens Perfect for fans of Barbara Kingsolver and Karen Russell, Where the Crawdads Sing is at once an exquisite ode to the natural world, a heartbreaking coming-of-age story, and a surprising tale of possible murder. Owens reminds us that we are forever shaped by the children we once were, and that we are all subject to the beautiful and violent secrets that nature keeps. Suggested by Emily Parente, Libraries Student Ambassador

#ucf library #ucflibrary #featured bookshelf #booklr #american history #reading list

[sciencespies]

The True History Behind 'Six,' the Tudor Musical About Henry VIII's Wives

https://sciencespies.com/history/the-true-history-behind-six-the-tudor-musical-about-henry-viiis-wives/

The True History Behind 'Six,' the Tudor Musical About Henry VIII's Wives

Meilan Solly

Associate Editor, History

Inspiration struck Toby Marlow during a comparative poetry class at Cambridge University in fall 2016. Participating in a discussion on William Blake, he found his mind wandering and began scribbling a series of unrelated notes: “Henry VIII’s wives → like a girl group … Need Lucy!!” 

Then an undergraduate student tasked with writing an original show for the upcoming Edinburgh Fringe Festival, Marlow brought his idea to classmate Lucy Moss, who agreed to help bring his vision of a Tudor-themed pop musical to life. The product of the pair’s collaboration—Six, a modern reimagining of the lives of Henry VIII’s six wives—premiered on London’s West End in 2019 to much acclaim. (A cast soundtrack released in September 2018 similarly became an unqualified success.) Now, after an extended delay caused by the Covid-19 pandemic, the musical is finally making its Broadway debut.

L to R: Abby Mueller (Jane Seymour), Samantha Pauly (Katherine Howard), Adrianna Hicks (Catherine of Aragon), Andrea Macasaet (Anne Boleyn), BrittneyMack (Anna of Cleves) and Anna Uzele (Catherine Parr)

Liz Lauren

Six “didn’t come out of a love of the Tudor period particularly,” says Marlow, 26. “It came from us having an interest in the representation of women in musical theater, having women on stage doing funny and hilarious things.” Moss, 27, adds, “What we were interested in doing was reframing the way that women have been perceived in history and telling their side of the story.”

The Tudor period, with its “soap opera”-esque political machinations and rich cast of female characters, offered the duo the opportunity to explore contemporary issues like feminism through a historical lens. Though Six prominently features the rhyme historically used to describe the fates of the Tudor king’s queens—“divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived”—the musical moves beyond these reductive one-word summaries to present its subjects as fully realized individuals. “With all of them,” says Moss, “there was so much of interest beyond the moment they got married or divorced.”

Marlow and Moss drew on a range of sources when writing Six, including Antonia Fraser’s The Wives of Henry VIII and documentaries hosted by historianLucy Worsley. The musical’s layered repartee deftly balances references to Tudor culture with nods to modern music, like the line “Stick around and you’ll suddenly see more” (a play on “Suddenly, Seymour” from Little Shop of Horrors). Still, Marlow explains, the show’s goal isn’t to convey history with 100 percent accuracy. Instead, “It’s [asking], ‘What if Anne Boleyn was like this?’ And how does that change the way you think about this very famous historical figure?”

Six frames its story as a makeshift talent competition in which the wife whose life was most tragic “wins.” The rules are simple: “The queen who was dealt the worst hand … shall be the one to lead the band.” Each wife sings a solo summarizing her experiences, engaging in acerbic banter in between verses. (During these numbers, the other wives act as both backup singers and dancers; beyond the six solos, the 80-minute show features three group numbers.) Ultimately, the women decide to form a girl band instead, leaving the king out of the narrative and imagining an alternate future featuring far happier ends for all of them.

Historian Jessica Storoschuk, who has written about Six extensively on her blog, has found that in school and popular culture, the queens are usually only talked about in terms of their fate. “[Six] is this kind of ridiculous satire of [that],” she says. “It’s a really intelligent way to explore their experiences, or, I should say, one part of their experiences, because their downfalls are not all of their lives.”

Below, find a song-by-song (or wife-by-wife) breakdown of the true history behind Six. Click through the interactive tools to learn more about specific lyrics from the show.

The song: “No Way,” a Beyoncé- and JLo-inspired “girl boss feminism” anthem, says Moss

Though Catherine of Aragon’s marriage to Henry lasted 24 years—collectively, his five other marriages spanned just 14 years—she has long been overshadowed by her successors. The daughter of Spanish monarchs Ferdinand and Isabella, Catherine came to England as the bride of Henry’s older brother, Arthur, Prince of Wales. But Arthur died shortly after the pair’s wedding, leading the Spanish princess to (eventually) marry his heir, Henry. 

By all accounts, the couple enjoyed a loving relationship that only deteriorated due to a lack of a male heir and the king’s infatuation with Anne Boleyn. In the late 1520s, Henry sought a divorce from his first wife, arguing that her previous relationship with Arthur was the reason for the couple’s lack of a surviving son. Determined to protect her daughter Mary’s rights, Catherine refused to concede.

Apple News readers, click here to view this interactive.

Six’s account of these events, “No Way,” takes its cue from a June 21, 1529, meeting at Blackfriars in London. After years of debate over the validity of the royal couple’s marriage, a papal court was conceived to address the king’s so-called Great Matter. Appealing directly to her husband, Catherine fell to her knees and delivered an impassioned monologue:

Intending (as I perceive) to put me from you, I take God and all the world to witness, that I have been to you a true and humble wife, ever conformable to your will and pleasure. … If there be any just cause by the law that ye can allege against me, either of dishonesty or any other impediment to banish and put me from you, I am well content to depart, to my great shame and dishonor; and if there be none, then here I most lowly beseech you let me remain in my former estate, and receive justice at your princely hand.

A 1544 portrait of the future Mary I, Henry and Catherine’s daughter

Public domain via Wikimedia Commons

Portrait believed to depict a young Catherine of Aragon

Public domain via Wikimedia Commons

After uttering these words, Catherine left Blackfriars, ignoring the clerk’s calls for her to return. Without turning around, she declared, “On, on, it makes no matter, for it is no impartial court for me, therefore I will not tarry.” The queen was correct in her assessment: Henry had no intention of remaining in the marriage. Determined to wed Anne, he broke from the Catholic Church in order to make her his wife.

Catherine’s Six solo could’ve been a “super emotional [sad] ballad,” says Moss. Instead, she and Marlow chose to emphasize the queen’s defiance, emulating Beyoncé’s “Run the World (Girls)” and setting the tone for the rest of the musical.

The real Catherine followed through on her fictionalized counterpart’s pledge to remain “queen till the end of my life,” refusing to acknowledge her marriage’s annulment even on her deathbed in 1536. Catherine’s legacy, historian Julia Fox told Smithsonian magazine last year, “is that of a wronged woman … who did not accept defeat, who fought for what she believed to be right until the breath left her body.”

The song: “Don’t Lose Ur Head,” a “cheeky” number modeled on Lily Allen and Kate Nash, according to Moss

Arguably the most (in)famous of the six wives, Anne is alternatively portrayed as a scheming, power-hungry seductress; a victim of her callous father’s vaulting ambition; or a worldly, charismatic woman who rose to the kingdom’s highest office only to be targeted by jealous men.

A near-contemporary painting of Anne Boleyn

Public domain via Wikimedia Commons

The truth of the matter depends on which scholar one asks. Most of Anne’s letters and papers were destroyed following her May 1536 execution on contrived charges of adultery, incest, witchcraft and conspiring to kill her husband, so much of what is known about her comes from outside observers, some of whom had reason to paint her in an unforgiving light. Even the queen’s date of birth, writes historian Antonia Fraser, is a fact “that can never be known with absolute certainty (like so much about Anne Boleyn).”

Anne’s song in Six, “Don’t Lose Ur Head,” draws its name from her method of execution: beheading by sword. Moss says she and Marlow view the number as a playful response to historians’ continued vilification of the queen as “calculating and manipulative”: “We were like, wouldn’t it be fun to mock [that trope] and make it that she was like ‘Well, I’m just living. I did this thing randomly, and now everything’s gone crazy.’”

Apple News readers, click here to view this interactive tool.

Though the tone of “Don’t Lose Ur Head” is intentionally more irreverent than the real queen, who Storoschuk says “was incredibly shrewd, very well educated, well read and well spoken,” the broad strokes of the song are historically accurate. Anne spent her teenage years in the courts of Margaret of Austria and Francis I of France, gaining a cosmopolitan worldview that helped her stand out in England. When she caught Henry’s eyes, she was a maid of honor in service of his first wife; rather than becoming Henry’s mistress, as her sister Mary had, Anne refused to sleep with the king until they were married. To wed Anne, Henry broke with the Catholic Church and established himself as head of the Church of England. Finally, the once-besotted king fell out of love in dramatic—and, for Anne, fatal—fashion just three years after their long-awaited marriage.

The song: “Heart of Stone,” a slow, Adele-like ballad

Henry’s third wife, Jane Seymour, has gone down in history as the “boring” one. According to Fraser, she was intelligent and “naturally sweet-natured,” with the “salient characteristics [of] virtue and common good sense.” Historian Alison Weir similarly describes Jane as “endowed with all the qualities then thought becoming in a wife: meekness, docility and quiet dignity.” 

Moss and Marlow tried to flesh out these descriptions by highlighting Jane’s political savvy. During her comparatively brief courtship with Henry, Jane drew on many of the same tactics used by Anne Boleyn, most notably by refusing to sleep with him until they were married. Presenting a submissive front may have been a tactic, says Moss. It’s also worth noting that Jane used her position to advance causes she cared about, including restoring her stepdaughters, Mary and Elizabeth, to their father’s favor and speaking out against the closure of England’s religious houses.

Apple News readers, click here to view this interactive.

On one occasion, Henry reportedly dismissed his new wife by advising her to “attend to other things, [for] the last queen had died in consequence of meddling too much in state affairs.” “Heart of Stone” acknowledges this risk, but Six’s version of Jane chooses to remain steadfast in her love of Henry and their son, the future Edward VI.

Following Jane’s death in childbirth in 1537, Henry memorialized her as “the fairest, the most discreet and the most meritorious of all his wives”—a distinction no doubt motivated by the fact that she’d given the king his only surviving male heir, writes Weir. (Edward took the throne “Six” reflects this enviable status by identifying Jane as “the only one he truly loved.” As she herself acknowledges in “Heart of Stone,” however, Henry’s affection is conditional on her ability to provide him with a son.

Henry chose to include Jane, rather than his then-wife, Catherine Parr, in this dynastic portrait. Painted around 1545, the work depicts Edward, Henry and Jane at its center and Mary and Elizabeth in the wings.

Public domain via Wikimedia Commons

Speaking with Vulture last year, Moss said, “The idea was about the strength of choosing to love someone and committing to someone, and that being an equally valid feminist experience.” She added, “I love that [Jane] gets to say, ‘I wasn’t stupid, I wasn’t naïve.’”

The song: “Get Down,” a 16th-century take on the rap and hip-hop “trope of being popular and bragging about your Ferrari and your Grey Goose,” says Moss

Anne (or, as the musical calls her, Anna) of Cleves was, in some historians’ view, the most successful of Henry’s six queens. After just six months of marriage, she earned the king’s enduring affection by agreeing to an annulment. Then, she proceeded to outlive her former husband, not to mention the rest of his wives, by a decade. “[Anne] did get pushed to the side in a rather unceremonious way, but she had a pretty good life,” says Storoschuk. “She was given several properties. She gambled a lot. She got to go hunting, she had the best clothes and the best food. She was loved at court.”

A 1540s portrait of Anne of Cleves by Bartholomaeus Bruyn the Elder

St. John’s College, University of Oxford, via Art U.K. under CC BY-NC-ND

“Get Down” focuses on this victorious period in Anne’s life, celebrating her independence as a wealthy, unmarried woman at Tudor court. In line with the musical’s goal of reclaiming the narrative, the number also reframes the incident that led to Anne’s annulment. Henry, enchanted by a flattering Hans Holbein portrait of his bride-to-be, was reportedly repulsed by the “tall, big-boned and strong-featured” woman who arrived in England at the beginning of 1540. Declaring “I like her not! I like her not!” after their first meeting, the king only went through with the wedding to maintain diplomatic ties with Anne’s home, the German Duchy of Cleves, and other Protestant allies across the European continent.

After just six months of marriage, Henry, eager to replace his short-reigning queen with the young, vivacious Katherine Howard, had the union annulled on the grounds of non-consummation and Anne’s pre-contract with Francis, Duke of Lorraine. Anne, from then on known as the “king’s beloved sister,” spent the rest of her days in luxury.

Apple News readers, click here to view this interactive.

Moss studied history at Cambridge and says much of her schoolwork centered around early modern German visual culture. Six actually includes a standalone song, “Haus of Holbein,” that satirizes 16th-century beauty culture and Henry’s portrait-driven search for a fourth wife: “Hans Holbein goes around the world / Painting all of the beautiful girls / From Spain / To France / And Germany / The king chooses one / But which one will it be?”

Given Holbein’s reputation for accuracy and Henry’s own declining looks (at the time of the couple’s wedding, the king was 48 years old), Marlow and Moss chose to turn the tables, having Anne proclaim herself a fan of the much-vilified portrait. Further cementing Anne’s mastery of the situation, “Get Down”’s refrain finds the supposedly unattractive queen hanging up her likeness “for everyone to see.”

The song: “All You Wanna Do,” a catchy number modeled on the work of “young pop stars sexualized early on in their careers,” like Miley Cyrus, Britney Spears and Ariana Grande, as Marlow told Vulture

For much of history, Henry’s fifth wife, Katherine Howard, has been dismissed as a wanton woman of little import. Writing in 1991, Weir described her as a “frivolous, empty-headed young girl who cared for little else but dancing and pretty clothes.” Fraser, meanwhile, wrote that “[h]ere was no intelligent adult woman, wise in the ways of the world—and of course courts.” More recent scholarship has taken a sympathetic view of the queen, with Gareth Russell’s 2017 book, Young and Damned and Fair, leading the conversation. As Russell argues, “[Katherine] was toppled by a combination of bad luck, poor decisions, and the Henrician state’s determination to punish those who failed its king.” 

Katherine’s Six solo, titled “All You Wanna Do,” echoes Russell’s characterization of its subject as a victim of circumstance and predatory older men. Though her exact birthdate is unknown, Katherine may have been as young as 17 when she was beheaded on charges of treasonous adultery in February 1542. Henry, comparatively, was 50 at the time of his disgraced wife’s execution.

Apple News readers, click here to view this interactive.

The king was far from the first man to sexualize Katherine. “All You Wanna Do” details the queen’s relationships in heart-wrenching detail, from a liaison with her music teacher, Henry Manox (the song suggests that he was 23 to Katherine’s 13, but as Storoschuk points out, he may have been closer to 33), to an affair with Francis Dereham, secretary to the dowager duchess, Katherine’s step-grandmother. When each new romance begins, the teenager declares herself hopeful that this time will be different. By the end of the song, however, she realizes that all of her suitors have the same goal in mind.

According to Moss, she and Marlow wanted Katherine’s song to start out with a “sexy, seductive” tone before transforming into a “narrative of abuse” with echoes of today’s #MeToo movement. Marlow adds, “It was kind of like us talking about what happened to one of the queens and finding a way of relating it to something that we would recognize as a modern female experience.”

Katherine’s “life was so tragic,” says Storoschuk. “She was so young, and she really had very little agency over her own life. ‘All You Wanna Do’ really encompasses that.”

The song: “I Don’t Need Your Love,” a soulful, Alicia Keys–inspired love song

Often reduced to the one-word summary of “survived” or the role of nursemaid to a succession of ailing husbands, Henry’s sixth wife, Catherine Parr, was actually a renowned scholar, religious reformer and perhaps even protofeminist. In Six, she takes ownership of these attributes, refusing to be defined by her romantic relationships and instead listing her manifold accomplishments: “Remember that I was a writer / I wrote books and psalms and meditations / Fought for female education / So all my women can independently study scripture / I even got a woman to paint my picture.”

Apple News readers, click here to view this interactive.

As the last of the six to take the stage, the fictionalized Catherine has dual obligations: namely, sharing her story and setting up a satisfying musical finale. “We needed one of the queens to be like ‘Wait, we shouldn’t be competing with each other. We should support each other,’” says Moss. “Fortunately, [Catherine’s role] as a writer, educator and advocate for women helped with that.” Encouraging the wives to take back the microphone, Catherine calls for them to assert themselves outside of their marriages to Henry. “It’s not what went down in history,” the six admit, “[b]ut tonight, I’m singing this for me.”

Catherine Parr’s fourth husband, Thomas Seymour

Public domain via Wikimedia Commons

The real Catherine led a rich life beyond what’s captured in “I Don’t Need Your Love.” As alluded to by the song’s first verses, which find Catherine telling a lover that she has “no choice” but to marry the king, the twice-married young widow initially had another suitor in mind: Thomas Seymour, the dashing younger brother of Henry’s third wife, Jane. (The would-be couple wed soon after Henry’s death in 1547, but their marriage was tainted by Thomas’ improper conduct toward his new stepdaughter, the future Elizabeth I.)

Despite being forced into a relationship with Henry, Catherine made the most of her position, pushing her husband to embrace Protestantism and encouraging him to restore his daughters to the line of succession. She narrowly escaped an attempt by the court’s conservative faction to have her executed on charges of heresy, winning back Henry’s favor even after he’d signed a warrant for her arrest. Catherine died just a year after the king, succumbing to complications from childbirth in 1548.

Based on a True Story

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[xtruss]

Architecture

Plans For $400-Billion New City in the American Desert Unveiled

— 6th September 2021 | CNN

The cleanliness of Tokyo, the diversity of New York and the social services of Stockholm: Billionaire Marc Lore has outlined his vision for a 5-million-person "new city in America" and appointed a world-famous architect to design it.

Now, he just needs somewhere to build it -- and $400 billion in funding.

The former Walmart executive last week unveiled plans for Telosa, a sustainable metropolis that he hopes to create, from scratch, in the American desert. The ambitious 150,000-acre proposal promises eco-friendly architecture, sustainable energy production and a purportedly drought-resistant water system. A so-called "15-minute city design" will allow residents to access their workplaces, schools and amenities within a quarter-hour commute of their homes.

Although planners are still scouting for locations, possible targets include Nevada, Utah, Idaho, Arizona, Texas and the Appalachian region, according to the project's official website.

The announcement was accompanied by a series of digital renderings by Bjarke Ingels Group (BIG), the architecture firm hired to bring Lore's utopian dream to life. The images show residential buildings covered with greenery and imagined residents enjoying abundant open space. With fossil-fuel-powered vehicles banned in the city, autonomous vehicles are pictured traveling down sun-lit streets alongside scooters and pedestrians.

Another image depicts a proposed skyscraper, dubbed Equitism Tower, which is described as "a beacon for the city." The building features elevated water storage, aeroponic farms and an energy-producing photovoltaic roof that allow it to "share and distribute all it produces."

The first phase of construction, which would accommodate 50,000 residents across 1,500 acres, comes with an estimated cost of $25 billion. The whole project would be expected to exceed $400 billion, with the city reaching its target population of 5 million within 40 years.

Funding will come from "various sources," project organizers said, including private investors, philanthropists, federal and state grants, and economic development subsidies. Planners hope to approach state officials "very soon," with a view to welcoming the first residents by 2030.

A New Urban Model

In addition to innovative urban design, the project also promises transparent governance and what it calls a "new model for society." Taking its name from the ancient Greek word "telos" (a term used by the philosopher Aristotle to describe an inherent or higher purpose), the city would allow residents to "participate in the decision-making and budgeting process." A community endowment will meanwhile offer residents shared ownership of the land.

In a promotional video, Lore described his proposal as the "most open, most fair and most inclusive city in the world."

Lore founded jet.com before selling it to Walmart and joining the retail giant as head of US e-commerce in 2016. He left the company earlier this year, saying that his retirement plans included working on a reality TV show, advising startups and building a "city of the future."

On Telosa's official website, Lore explains that he was inspired by American economist and social theorist Henry George. The investor cites capitalism's "significant flaws," attributing many of them to "the land ownership model that America was built on."

"Cities that have been built to date from scratch are more like real estate projects," Lore said in a promotional video for the project. "They don't start with people at the center. Because if you started with people at the center, you would immediately think, 'OK, what's the mission and what are the values?'

"The mission of Telosa is to create a more equitable and sustainable future. That's our North Star."

BIG's founder, Danish architect Bjarke Ingels, is meanwhile quoted as saying that Telosa "embodies the social and environmental care of Scandinavian culture, and the freedom and opportunity of a more American culture."

It is not the first new city being planned by Ingels' firm, which famously installed a ski slope on top of a Copenhagen power plant and has co-designed Google's new headquarters in London and California. In January 2020, Japanese carmaker Toyota revealed that it had commissioned BIG to create a master plan for a new 2,000-person city in the foothills of Mount Fuji. Although significantly smaller than Telosa, the project, dubbed Woven City, promises autonomous vehicle testing, smart technology and robot-assisted living.

[aion-rsa]

Man of Steel: Warner Wanted This Hilarious Change

https://ift.tt/3BCU46W

Man of Steel may remain widely divisive nearly a decade after its 2013 release, but the pedigree of its storytellers, The Dark Knight Trilogy’s David S. Goyer and Christopher Nolan, is often obscured by the sizable shadow cast by director Zack Snyder. However, for studio Warner Bros., the Henry Cavill-headlined Superman reboot’s primary purpose was to launch the Marvel-like continuity we now know as the DC Extended Universe. Consequently, with such high stakes, work on the film regularly came with suggestions via studio notes. Yet, Goyer’s recollection of one particular note is not only funny, but will make you wonder if anyone’s paying attention.

Goyer, having come through for Warner as the writer of director Nolan’s supremely successful, Oscar-winning Batman efforts, had the material knowledge and gravitas for the job, and was thusly tapped to write the Man of Steel screenplay, with Nolan’s name touted as a story developer. However, that didn’t stop Warner personnel from offering suggestions for the sake of suggestions. Yet, one would think that providing feedback for this crucial Superman endeavor would, in the very least, necessitate knowing that Krypton was destroyed, especially since that galactic calamity played out in elaborately-explosive form in the very footage the studios suits were shown. Oddly enough, as the screenwriter recounts in a broad-topic THR interview, such a prerequisite was apparently not implemented.

“One note I got was on Man of Steel, where the ending involves Superman utilizing the pod that he arrived in as a child in order to bring down General Zod’s ship,” recalls Goyer. “The note we got from the studio said, ‘You have to change that.’ We asked why. They said, ‘Because if Superman uses that pod and it’s destroyed while saving the city, how is he ever going to get back home to Krypton?’ There was just this long pause and we said, ‘Krypton blew up. You saw 30 minutes of it!’

Perhaps putting the franchise cart before the immediate plot horse, someone—maybe a group of people—at Warner thought that the destruction of the ship used by Phantom Zone-escaped villain General Zod (Michael Shannon) and his Kryptonian criminal cohorts wasted a potential opportunity for future film exploits in which Superman buckles in and discovers his roots on the planet from which he was jettisoned as an infant. However, the aftermath of Man of Steel’s flashback first act—having followed Superman’s father, Jor-El (Russell Crowe), in his resistance to Zod’s militant rebellion, and the bureaucracy’s failed effort to save the powder keg planet—left Krypton as broken clumps of dirt destined to drift in space for eons. Zod, of course, was using said ship in his attempt to terraform Earth into a new version of Krypton (a reboot of Krypton, if you will,) thereby killing everyone on the planet in the process. However, while Superman’s climactic choice—under extreme duress—to kill Zod became widely controversial, early watchers at Warner, by contrast, lamented the killing of his ship, which could have facilitated a trip (via the sacrificed pod or the ship,) to the aforementioned clumps of dirt in space for an unspecified sequel.

Warner Bros.

Fun aside, the clear fail moment depicted in Goyer’s anecdote could simply be chalked up as an understandable example of someone at the studio having an off moment—a brain fart, if you will. Moreover, it’s not even the dumbest note the writer ever received, since he previously recalled one for his never-realized pre-MCU Doctor Strange script for Columbia Pictures, in which a clearly-clueless studio suit told him to “take a lot of the magic out.” Indeed, the pressure to perform from the top-down at Warner’s corporate hierarchy was likely enormous, creating a far-seeing mindset focused on the broader franchise; a mindset that ironically hides glaring concepts already in front of one’s face, like, say, Snyder’s lengthy destruction of Krypton sequence. This is especially the case as they were starting to see the fortunes of direct competitors Marvel Studios exponentially increase year after year.

Read more

Movies

Man of Steel 2: Zack Snyder Teases Superman vs. Brainiac

By Mike Cecchini

Movies

From Man of Steel to Zack Snyder’s Justice League: A Complete DCEU Timeline

By Aaron Sagers

Thusly, Man of Steel was never going to be anything less than an ambitiously redefining effort. After all, the reboot was released just seven short years after director Bryan Singer’s Brandon Routh-starring big screen reboot, 2006’s Superman Returns, and, not for nothing, arrived a mere two years after the last small screen Superman, Tom Welling, wrapped up a decade-long run with the 2011 end of Smallville. Indeed, along with the enduring iconic specter of the Christopher Reeve quartet, there was already no shortage of live-action Superman material in the ether at the time, which meant that this new movie had to be something extraordinarily special in order to convince understandably-cynical audiences, yet again, that a man can fly. Of course, arguments about whether or not Man of Steel was an artistic success remain ongoing, especially after the film’s $668 million global box office numbers—while impressive by normal standards—didn’t quite create an uprising powerful enough to match Mighty Marvel’s reliably lucrative world-building.

Tellingly, Snyder’s subsequent DCEU effort wouldn’t be a direct sequel, but instead became a crossover, 2016’s Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, which ended up introducing the name stardom of Ben Affleck as the Caped Crusader for a bleak battle of heroes over vigilante philosophy and apocalyptic dreams. While grosses improved to $873 million for that film, its return on investment didn’t measure up, cementing Warner’s behind-the-scenes loss of confidence in Snyder’s vision, which, coupled with a personal tragedy, led to his exit from ultimately-under-performing 2017 mega-movie Justice League; an exit somewhat rectified by his lengthy redux, Zack Snyder’s Justice League, released earlier this year. However, the DCEU remains in a continuity flux, with more imminent sequels for familiar characters like Aquaman, Wonder Woman, Shazam and a solo debut for The Flash, along with cold-intro spinoff Black Adam and, notably, continuity-disconnected Earth-2-set reboot The Batman—and that’s not even addressing the nebulousness of its television side on HBO Max and The CW.

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

…Come to think of it, maybe Superman could have gotten away with that trip to a non-existent Krypton.

The post Man of Steel: Warner Wanted This Hilarious Change appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[impressivepress]

A Rare Look At How Diego Rivera Turned Sketches Into His Iconic Detroit Mural

A walk through the Detroit Institute of Arts’ first major exhibition since the city emerged from bankruptcy in December doesn’t just offer a closer look at the museum’s most famous piece; it gives visitors a chance to see the early stages of the artist’s masterpiece.

The exhibition, “Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo in Detroit,” looks at the trajectories of the married Mexican artists before and after they arrived in the city in 1932; however, the exhibition directs most attention to the making of Rivera’s large-scale mural “Detroit Industry,” a piece made up of 27 individual panels. The fresco cycle, commissioned by the museum and paid for by auto baron heir Edsel Ford, fills an airy central court at the museum.

“It’s like a secular Sistine [Chapel] ceiling,” Mark Rosenthal told The Huffington Post, comparing Rivera to Michelangelo and praising a near-unmatched ability to “compose fantastic narrative” in his paintings.  

The mural, a celebration and subtle critique of modern industry, is sprawling in size and content, but every detailed inch contains symbolism of the city’s present, past and future. The exhibition takes a closer look at some of those details in their early form: Rivera’s large preparatory drawings, which served as drafts for the final murals, are on display for the first time since the 1980s. Placed alongside the panels they inspired, the exuberant charcoal sketches he called “cartoons” reveal how Rivera translated his broad strokes into the final scenes.

Rivera painted the mural over the course of seven months, panel by panel, standing on scaffolding to paint figures that towered over him. He finished the work in 1933. Much of the imagery in “Detroit Industry” was inspired by the Ford Rouge auto plant, where he spent weeks sketching.

In Rivera’s as-told-to autobiography, My Art, My Life, he speaks of his delight in the machinery and its power to liberate man from drudgery and poverty.

“As I rode back to Detroit, a vision of Henry Ford’s industrial empire kept passing before my eyes.” he said. “In my ears, I heard the wonderful symphony which came from his factories where metals were shaped into tools for men’s service. It was a new music, waiting for the composer with genius enough to give it communicable form. … I felt that in the society of the future as already, to some extent, that of the present, man-and-machine would be as important as air, water, and the light of the sun.”

Rivera’s enthusiasm for an industry driven by capitalism can seem at odds with his politics. A dedicated Marxist, he arrived in Detroit as workers in the Ford plant were reeling. Several weeks earlier, layoffs had led to a march that ended in violence and five deaths. That politically-charged event, as well as a desperate workforce shrunk by the Great Depression, are scrubbed from the almost utopian view of the auto assembly line in “Detroit Industry.”

Still, Rivera depicts industrial progress in a more nuanced and critical light. He repeatedly represents both the constructive and destructive potential of modernization and technology. For example, two alternate panels show chemistry used to vaccinate a child and then used to build a bomb.

~ Kate Abbey-Lambertz · 03/23/2015.

#diego rivera #painting #exibition review #review #detroit industry murals #huffpost

[socialmediapromotion2020]

What Is Graphic Design

Graphic design is a calling whose business is the demonstration of planning, programming, and make visual interchanges, for the most part created by modern methods and proposed to pass on explicit messages to explicit social gatherings, with an unmistakable reason. This is the action that empowers graphically impart thoughts, realities and qualities handled and integrated as far as structure and correspondence, social, social, financial, tasteful and mechanical. Otherwise called visual correspondence plan, since some partner the word figure just to the printing business, and comprehend that visual messages are directed through numerous media, not simply print.

Given the gigantic and quick development in the trading of data, the interest for visual originators is more prominent than at any other time, especially as a result of the improvement of new advances and the need to focus on the human factors that are past the capability of architects who create them.

A few orders are generally utilized visual computerization: promoting plan, article plan, corporate personality configuration, website architecture, bundling plan, typographic plan, signage plan, interactive media plan, among others.

Visual depiction History

The meaning of the visual depiction calling is somewhat later, in what concerns their readiness, their exercises and objectives. Despite the fact that there is no agreement on the specific date of the introduction of visual communication, some dating during the interwar period. Others comprehend that starts to recognize as such to the late nineteenth century.

Seemingly explicit realistic correspondences purposes have their starting point in Paleolithic cavern canvases and the introduction of composed language in the third thousand years BC. C. However, the distinctions in working techniques and preparing required helper sciences are to such an extent that it is absurd to plainly distinguish the current visual architect with ancient man, with xylograph fifteenth century or the lithographer 1890.

The variety of assessment mirrors the way that some see as a result of visual depiction and any remaining graphical exhibit just those that emerge because of the use of a model of modern creation, those visual appearances that have been "anticipated" thinking about requirements of various sorts: profitable emblematic ergonomic context oriented and so forth

Foundation

A page from the Book of Kells: Folio 114, with designed content contains the Tunc dicit illis. An illustration of craftsmanship and page design of the Middle Ages.

The Book of Kells - A Bible transcribed lavishly outlined by Irish priests in the 10th century CE-is for about an exceptionally lovely and early illustration of visual depiction idea. It is a realistic exhibit of incredible imaginative worth, high caliber, and that even a model for figuring out how to plan for even outperforms in quality to large numbers of the current-publication creations, and furthermore from a useful perspective contemporary This realistic piece reacts to all requirements introduced the group of individuals who made it, anyway others accept that it would be visual depiction item, since they comprehend that their plan isn't changed in accordance with the possibility of current visual computerization project.

The historical backdrop of typography-and by transitive, additionally the historical backdrop of the book-is firmly connected to visual computerization, this might be on the grounds that there are basically no illustrations plans that do exclude such things designs. Henceforth, when discussing the historical backdrop of visual computerization, typography additionally refered to the Trajan section, middle age miniatures, Johannes Gutenberg's print machine, the development of the book business, the banners Parisian Arts Movement and Crafts (Arts and Crafts), William Morris, Bauhaus, and so on "

The presentation of versatile kind by Johannes Gutenberg made books less expensive to create, and encourage their dispersal. The previously printed books (incunabula) scored the good example to the 20th century. Visual computerization of this time has gotten known as Old Style (particularly the typefaces which these early typographers utilized), or Humanist, because of the overwhelming philosophical school of the time.

After Gutenberg, no huge changes were seen until the late nineteenth century, especially in Britain, there was a push to make an unmistakable division between the fine and applied expressions.

In the nineteenth Century

First page of the book "The Nature of Gothic" by John Ruskin, distributed by the Kelmscott Press. The Arts and Crafts proposed to resuscitate the middle age craftsmanship, motivation in nature and physical work.

During the nineteenth century visual message configuration was endowed then again two experts: the craftsman or the distributer. The originally was framed as a craftsman and the second as a skilled worker, regularly both in similar schools of expressions and specialties. For the printer as craftsmanship was the utilization of decorations and choosing textual styles imprinted in his structures. The craftsman considered typography to be a youngster and focusing closer on fancy and illustrative components.

Somewhere in the range of 1891 and 1896, the William Morris Kelmscott Press distributed probably the main realistic items Arts and Crafts Movement (Arts and Crafts), and set up a worthwhile business dependent on the plan of books of incredible expressive refinement and offering them to the high societies as extravagance things. Morris demonstrated that a market existed for works of visual depiction, building up the division of plan from creation and the expressive arts. Crafted by the Kelmscott Press is described by its diversion of notable styles, particularly middle age.

First Vanguards

Banner for the Moulin Rouge in Paris. Made by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec with shading lithography in 1891. Because of Art Nouveau, visual communication and visual lucidity acquired by the piece.

Isotype of the Bauhaus. Established in 1919 by Walter Gropius, is viewed as the origination of the visual communication calling.

Given Poster for Matinée. Made by Theo van Doesburg in January 1923. The free textual style association, communicates the soul of the Dada development, nonsensicalness, for opportunity and restrict the norm and visual articulations of the time.

Corporate character plan for Lufthansa, by the Development Group 5 of the HFG Ulm. Ulm School was an intonation point throughout the entire existence of plan, since there is illustrated the plan calling through logical technique.

Current pictograms plan for the National Park Service of the United States. The plan to disentangle the images structures created during the 1950s.

The plan of the mid 20th century, just as the expressive arts of a similar period, was a response against the wantonness of typography and plan of the late nineteenth century.

The interest in ornamentation and the multiplication of estimation changes and typographical style one piece plan, inseparable from great plan, it was a thought that was kept up until the late nineteenth century. The Art Nouveau, with its reasonable longing complex was a development that added to higher request visual creation. While keeping an undeniable degree of formal unpredictability, did as such inside a solid visual consistency, disposing of the variety of typographic styles in a single realistic piece.

Craftsmanship developments of the second decade of the 20th century and the political disturbance that went with them, produced sensational changes in visual depiction. The Dada, De Stijl, Suprematism, Cubism, Constructivism, Futurism, the Bauhaus and made another vision that impacted all parts of the visual expressions and plan. Every one of these developments contradicted to the brightening expressions and famous, just as the Art Nouveau, which affected by the new interest in math advanced into the Art Deco. Every one of these developments were a revisionist and intrusive soul in constantly. This period likewise distributions and statements multiplied through which specialists and instructors communicated their conclusions.

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During the 1930s created for the organization fascinating parts of visual depiction. The realistic style change was critical on the grounds that it shows a response against variance ornamentalist organicism and the time and proposes a more stripped and mathematical. This style, associated with Constructivism, Suprematism, Neoplasticism, De Stijl and Bauhaus applied an enduring impact and inevitable in the improvement of 20th century visual computerization. Another significant component comparable to proficient practice, was the expanding utilization of visual structure as correspondence component. This thing showed up generally in the plans delivered by the Dada and De Stijl.

The image of current typography is the sans serif text style or serif, enlivened by mechanical kinds of the late nineteenth century. Features incorporate Edward Johnston, creator of the text style for the London Underground, and Eric Gill.

Configuration Schools

Jan Tschichold encapsulated the standards of current typography in his 1928 book, New Typography. He later renounced the way of thinking introduced in this book, calling it extremist, yet stayed extremely powerful. Herbert Bayer, who dirigó from 1925-1928 the typography and promoting workshop at the Bauhaus, made the conditions for another calling: the visual originator. He put the subject "Promoting" in the schooling program including, in addition to other things, the investigation of publicizing media and the brain research of promoting. Quite, the first to characterize the term Graphic Design was the fashioner and typographer William Addison Dwiggins in 1922.

Accordingly Tschichold, Herbert Bayer, László Moholy-Nagy, and El Lissitzky became guardians of visual communication as far as we might be concerned today. They spearheaded creation procedures and styles that have been utilizing later. Today, PCs have drastically adjusted creation frameworks, however the methodology that added to trial configuration is more pertinent than any other time dynamism, experimentation and even unmistakable things like picking textual styles (Helvetica is a restoration, initially a Typography configuration dependent on the nineteenth-century mechanical) and symmetrical organizations. To know more visit the official website http://bit.ly/3cJsbAd