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entitycradle · 3 years

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A Tree Without Wind

Content warnings: mention of, discussion of, threats of, and plans to commit suicide. Panic attacks, disassociation, and paranoia are described, sometimes in detail. An eating disorder is alluded to. Characters are horny for each other but there’s nothing sexually explicit.

I promise the ending is hopeful. I genuinely am not trying to trick you, I know what this sort of thing is like, I want to respect your capacity while still being truthful to the experience and allowing tension in the story. If you’re in the right place for it, click that button.

A TREE WITHOUT WIND

I was nine years old the first time Phoenix told me he was going to kill himself. Is that too brutal? Sorry. It's where this starts. We were outside, in the morning before it got too hot, kicking around a ball in the scrubby grass. We used the long shadow of the I34Q tower to make the rules--you can't use your hands if you're in the sun, that sorta thing. It was fun because the boundaries of the shadow were always moving with the shape of the tower, and because the tower was a little scary. Phoenix lost a game and just said it, frustrated, "I'm gonna kill myself." I laughed.

When I was that age I loved looking at the shadow of the tower, because it made so much more sense than the real thing. You'd look at the dark, fuzzy stain on the ground and you could imagine it was some sort of antenna, or house, or marker. But then you'd look at the structure itself and your eyes would glaze over trying to figure it out. Unevenly rotating, stacked polyhedral structures, dark gray but covered with a rainbow film like an oil slick. Irregular pieces would be transferred between different sections with no apparent pattern. It smelled like someone you'd never met. The tower was doing something but no one was ever clear on what. That's how it is with I34Q stuff, I think.

I'm stalling. It was some stupid shit, he must've picked it up from some awful caster or something. As a kid Phoenix liked that sorta thing. He'd watch videos of mean people cursing and laughing and he'd laugh with them. I preferred my cartoons, or the I34Q casts, as weird as they were. Later I repeated what he said when I found out my dad was making squash for dinner, "I'm gonna kill myself," and my mom told me off pretty hard. Kept me from saying it again, at least in school and at home. Phoenix kept at it though.

- = -

Phoenix and I got put in the same dormitory when we went to T-school. Do they call it T-school in other places? It's the thing where 4Q tanks (as in I34Q) come and take a bunch of eleven-year-old kids to stay at "training" facilities. No one I've asked knows what T-school is actually for, same as the towers, same as all the 4Q stuff like I said before. An organic shape attached to the ground heads a classroom, gibbering except for the occasional english sentence (Phoenix said he also recognized some Cantonese). Mrs. Lough, who apparently also lives in the facility, tries to teach "formalist english," which is like english but the rules contradict themselves. You take notes on the behavior of a tank filled with inky fluid for four hours a week. One day a three-legged machine packs up your stuff and shepherds you to the gate.

I was ejected a year and a half after Phoenix. I went home on the bus and met him at burger king that afternoon. I caught a glimpse of him from outside. His hair was in long, tight braids. I felt self-conscious about the uncontrollable smile growing on my face. "Aco!" he said through a grin as I opened the glass door. A green poster advertised a meal made from "water beads," an I34Q plant thing.

"Dang," I said, grinning as I sat down. "Dang."

"You make it out? Fuck you to 4Q?" He'd stopped eating to greet me. His grin looked as uncontrollable as mine. Phoenix's nose was wide and flat, also like mine.

"Fork you, 4Q." I still felt nervous about cursing. I was fourteen. "How ya doing, Phoenix?"

"I'm good, I'm good. High school is interesting."

"Oh, man..."

"It's actually like, fucking nice to understand what's happening. But now there are actual smart kids and you actually get punished when you, y'know, mouth off. I'm like, I gotta get around to--" He swiped with his hand, bent his neck, and made a cracking sound with his mouth. I laughed. "Don't worry, I'll show you around. Maybe we'll have a class together."

- = -

We did have a class together. High school with Phoenix was fun, because I got to have a proper crush on him. Pining, sexuality, youthful obsession, yards and yards of it. It was weird, we kinda drifted--Phoenix hung out with kids that I was afraid of, I hung out with kids who played too many videogames. As our familiarity waned, I started seeing him differently. A foreign, adult desire began to penetrate me, replacing childish affection. It took me a while to realize that's what was happening.

It was a shame our familiarity waned, though, because Phoenix was really struggling, and I didn't see it. His friends were mean, when they weren't outright abusive. Not a lot of people liked him. I learned later that he started hurting himself when he was sixteen. Little cigarette burns, and then cuts. He got put on meds at seventeen--the wrong meds, for a year. He went to a psych ward when he was nineteen. His family did not have the money to pay for an extended stay. I still don't know exactly how that worked out. I do know he went into debt after his second stay two years later.

I wasn't doing too well myself, after I hit twenty-two. Something in me broke I guess. So when Phoenix told me he was going to travel to the Santitos digger and throw himself off a cliff, it didn't take me very long to ask if I could go with him.

- = -

"I... I didn't..." He paused for a long time. Ten seconds of silence feels unbearably long in a conversation, and I was quiet for fifteen. My teeth held each other tightly as his thoughts whirled. "I didn't..." He looked me in the eyes. There was an intensity to both our gazes. He'd stuck his jaw out, just a little. "I guess I did. I was, kinda, hoping you'd say that."

"Fuck," I said, looking away and down. "Fuck." I put a hand over my eyes, gripping my face as tears came.

"I'm gonna die," he said, beginning to smile and looking up. I felt the discomfort I'd felt since we were nine.

"Yeah, I wanna go, I wanna go," I said, pulling my hand away midway through and looking back at him with a force I didn't recognize.

He looked back at me and said, "I'm gonna die, and you're gonna die with me."

- = -

The Santitos digger is in northern California, in the Redwood national park. People have figured out the basic idea of what the digger is doing, unlike the towers or the T-schools: the digger is making a big hole. I'd heard that in some places it had dug more than a mile, almost straight down. Don't ask me how the digger would've done that. Don't ask me why it's called Santitos, either, since it's pretty big and not very saintly. Maybe it was the name of a town. Getting to the digger from Prince George County was about fifty hours.

"I figure we could do it in three days if we really fuck-you-pushed-it. But I'm planning on five." I craned my neck to look at Phoenix's cracked phone screen, where he'd pulled up the route.

Gas is expensive because 4Q takes most of it. Basically no one flies. Even in Phoenix's hybrid, it would be a thousand dollars to get to the west coast. But it's not like we'd need the money afterwards.

"We'll eat along the way," he continued. I bit my thumbnail. "I'm not picky, we'll just stop at wherever they won't run us out of town."

We'd sleep in the car. It was April, so temperature wouldn't be a concern. I packed a change of clothes, a water bottle, my meds, and a box cutter I'd stolen from my last job.

The next morning, he pulled his blue, dented '38 prius in front of my apartment building. I saw the car arrive out the window. There was an anxious pit in my stomach that deepened when I opened my front door. I didn't want anyone to see me. This is it, I thought, this is it, this is it. I repeated that phrase down the stairs. My landlord could fucking charge rent to my corpse, I could give a shit. This is it, I thought. That final T stretched to enrobe me. The sky was gray and wet. The sensation wasn't enough to rip me from my inwards reverie. I was about to get in the back of the car when Phoenix spoke. "That ain't it."

He was leaning out the window, regarding me coolly. "Morning. Shall we go?" I walked around the car and got in the front seat.

- = -

Virginia is beautiful once you get into the mountains, forested and rolling. I told Phoenix, "Once I read the Appalachians are millions of years old, and used to be taller than the Himalayas."

"No shit. Was there like an Everest? Where's the old Everest?"

"I don't know, I never heard anything about that. But yeah the continental plates looked totally different. And then things changed and the rain and wind and plants broke them down."

"Hah. Fucking awful. Just being broken down like that. I mean, it's better than what 4Q did to Everest."

I was quiet for a moment. "That's... the worst thing they did, right?"

"I dunno, dude, I think taking kids from their families is worse."

"No, right, right. But like... Everest was like... like everyone knew about Everest. When I was really little I had this big book about mountains and I read the bit on Everest so many times. And now it's like... they made it about them. And people lived in the Himalayas before 4Q came! It forced everyone out and carved a bunch of nonsense into it. A forever reminder that we're below them."

"Hah, literally. Hmmm. I still wouldn't say worst, but, I get what you mean. I'm so numb to it. It's good some people still care." Phoenix shrugged. "I mean I dunno. It doesn't matter much to me, at this point. But from an outside perspective it's good."

That first evening was alright. I drove Phoenix into a beautiful sunset. You hear the phrase "rode off into the sunset" and you think, what a nice ending, but it's not really an ending. If you're the cowboy you keep riding, and eventually the sky darkens and you have to set up camp and eat and sleep and wake up the next morning and eat and go riding again. A feeling of dread and desperation fills me when I think of surviving alone like that. Maybe I'd get used to it. The trip to Santitos was an attempt to write a story with a proper ending.

We didn't stop until we crossed into Illinois. We parked on the shoulder of a country road. I used the light in the car to look at the atlas we'd bought for when we didn't have cell service, and laughed. "We've been in five states today. Pretty good. Keep it up and we'll have visited every state by June."

"What the--?" Phoenix snorted, laughing. "You mean if we visit five states a day. Asshole."

I always giggled when he snorted and called me an asshole. "Hey, I'm just saying."

"Fucking dumb. Doesn't even work. You'd have to wake up in a different state than you fell asleep in." He caught my eye. The smile felt intimate, mutual. Born of sleepy exhaustion from a shared journey. I looked at the divot between his nose and upper lip.

I realized something. "Shit, I forgot to bring a blanket."

"Poor baby. You cold?"

"Hmm. I guess not really."

"Oh, you know what I do have..." He leaned towards me and reached toward the back seat. I watched his shirt stretch over his chest. Phoenix retrieved a big gray sweater. "Feel free to stretch it out."

My fingertips touched the back of his hands as I took the bundle. I did that on purpose. His skin was warmer than I expected, as skin always is. We tipped our seats back. Not the most comfortable, though the sweater would help, hopefully. I checked out Phoenix to see him on his side, looking at me and smiling. I let my own smile relax into me as I watched his eyes. His irises were a rich, beautiful brown. His skin was the color of cardboard in your childhood memories. I loved the way his smile wasn't symmetrical, wider on one side than the other. I carefully resisted scanning my gaze down his body. I actually saw his eyes flick down my form, instantaneously. His eyelids half-lowered, and then, horribly, what seemed to be a great tide of sadness overtook him. I watched him hold it back. I watched his smile mix with growing grief and fear, then bow to neutrality. He covered his gaze with his eyelids, breathed in, breathed out. "All right," he whispered, then opened his eyes. The gaze was gone. "Time to sleep." He sat up and turned off the light.

The sweater had a very particular, subtle smell to it. I guess it was his smell. I was desperately horny, yet blasted to pieces. A heady mix.

"I think I could fall in love with you, if things were a little different." He broke the silence, fifteen minutes later. "I probably would. But I'd cling to you like a fucking baby. And you're here, right?" He paused. For a response? I didn't give him one in time. "That's what I mean, codependent hell. I'd only be alive for you, and you'd only be alive for me, and then the second anything goes wrong we'd be right back here except I'd, fucking, direct all my shittiness at you... and you'd blame yourself."

I was quiet. "Ain't... ain't being codependent better than dying?"

"Hah! But that's what I'm saying, it doesn't change anything, it just leads us back here."

I fumbled for something. "Yeah but if it could... like stave it off..."

"Why is that good? The world is fucked, Acoatl, totally and truly fucked. Things don't get better from here, for me, for people. Should I beg? Stay here in misery out of some misplaced sense of morality? We're doing the only thing that makes sense."

I stayed quiet, not unconvinced. Sleep came, eventually, uncomfortably, anxiously.

- = -

The International Astronomical Union provisionally called it 8I/2034 Q1. I had to look that up. The eighth interstellar comet discovered, identified in 2034. I don't know what Q1 means. The name was briefly changed to 8I/Pasarati, for the research group that had discovered it, but by that time I34Q was clearly accelerating non-gravitationally and on an Earthbound trajectory. 8I/Pasarati is still in orbit, technically. You can see it through a telescope, it's like five miles across. But I34Q is the name for all of it, the craft that came to the surface, the life it brought with it, the structures it built, the war, all the consequences. No one can make any sense of it, except the one thing everyone knows: something else controls the world now.

- = -

I just barely remember waking up to switch seats in the morning, and then desiring nothing more than to return to sleep. Eventually Phoenix nudged me awake. "Hey." We were parked somewhere in Missouri. I'd slept all the way through the night and Phoenix's turn to drive. At least twelve hours, depending on when I actually fell asleep last night. I'd missed the big arch in St. Louis.

Phoenix was curt and reserved as I drove. I thought he was still thinking about last night, or angry at me for leaving him alone on his drive. Then he tilted his head back and began to gag. "My... heart..." Tears streamed down him face.

"Phoenix." I glanced back and forth between him and the road. There were abandoned cars on the shoulder; I couldn't pull over. "Phoenix, Phoenix, um."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, stop." He bent, heaved, and emitted a yowling, harsh retch. Nothing else left his mouth. "My heart..." He was breathing hard. A panic attack, I realized, stupidly too late.

"Do we have..." Panic attacks can be interrupted with certain intense sensations. The general goal is to increase awareness of the environment, focus the mind on the current moment rather than the future or past. Holding an ice cube can help. There were no ice cubes. I reached into the back seat for my water bottle, which would at least be cool. A truck behind us laid on the horn. I swerved back into my lane. "Sorry." Phoenix dry heaved again. It was a uniquely distressing sound.

I searched for the hazards, feeling useless. Far too much time passed before I found them and started slowing down. A different truck laid on a different horn. I was able to slip in a gap on the shoulder between an abandoned pickup and a rusting minivan.

I led Phoenix onto the tall grass beyond the asphalt, where he collapsed onto all fours. His torso flexed as he heaved. I put a hand on his back. "Phoenix, look at the trees." There were bushy, broken trees lining the sides of the highway, a vibrant green against the blue and white sky. "The, listen to the road." No, the road was stressing me the fuck out. "Listen to the grass waving, feel it." Stalks crumpled in his fists. I twisted my head and saw the tip of an I34Q tower peeking up over the treeline. "Look, a tower, just like when we were kids." Over the next few minutes, his breathing slowed, his heaving stopped. But the tears stayed. He sobbed away the panic. I read somewhere that tears actually contain different chemicals depending on the emotion causing them. Something to do with hormones I think.

He apologized to me. I would've done the same thing. I've done the same thing. So I got it, but felt indignant at having understood--he didn't need to apologize!

We got back on the road and listened to static on the radio. Sometimes the edge of a station would pass by, and we'd get fuzzy country, or christian rock. I changed it whenever there was a sermon. Sermons always come back to 4Q and they're always awful. The 4Q broadcasts are actually better than sermons about 4Q. They're kind of like static, anyway, totally unintelligible. We encountered more of them than I expected. Maybe static itself is a 4Q broadcast. I don't think that's right, I think static is like cosmic background radiation. But maybe 4Q has changed it somehow, like it used to be white noise and now it's blue noise, a different random distribution but still random.

"I'm off my meds," he said, as we rolled into darkness. The moon was a crescent, low on the western horizon. He spoke flatly and calmly. "I didn't even bring them with me. I thought you should know."

I hesitated. I wanted to voice this diplomatically. But then, we'd be dead in four days, anyway. "Is that why you had the attack?"

"No. I panic even on meds." That made sense. I remembered a few times in the past year when he'd canceled an event with little notice, or left early. "But I'm not a person right now, and that's definitely because I'm off my meds."

"You're not a person right now?"

"Yeah. It's called depersonalization. Also derealization, which is when nothing is real. Or that's how it feels, as I'm told. It's pretty freaky if I'm honest. You don't get the same emotional reaction from stuff. It feels like you're watching from somewhere else." He wasn't looking at me. He was looking down. "You're not you. You're not even real." He whispered. "Pretty freaky."

"Can I--do you--"

"Ahh, I'm coming out of it. Some of it is just recognizing that you're in it." He drew a knee up to his chest and shook his head. "Uhh, could you. Could you hold my hand. Touch helps."

I gripped the wheel with my left hand and held his palm with my right. It was warm and sweaty. I wish I could say that was okay. I felt miserable. I wanted to feel happy, holding his hand, comforting him. I didn't.

Sleep came quicker that night, though still uncomfortable, still anxious.

- = -

I slept late, again. I hadn't touched the chicken sandwich I'd gotten from a drive-thru last night. It had awful 4Q stuff on it anyway. I hadn't eaten in twenty-four hours, so I was pretty hungry, but I had no actual desire to eat. I'd deal with it later.

My own panic attack must've seemed similarly unbidden to Phoenix, though I felt it coming about an hour beforehand, and tried to stave it off. We were on I-80, driving through the hypnotizing flatness of Nebraska. Every ten or fifteen minutes I kept seeing this scarlet structure. It was like a giant, bloody caricature of a water tower, a skinny, triangular column maybe ten feet across and at least two hundred feet tall, supporting an enormous squashed sphere more than twice as wide as the column was tall. I'd watch it rise from the horizon, far too big. I'd never seen them before but guessed they must be 4Q. I started thinking we were somehow traveling in a loop, that my sense of direction was faulty and we were passing the same structure in the same field over and over again. Then I started thinking about how crazy that sounded. But I couldn't stop the thought.

I wanted to pull over but I couldn't stop anywhere in view of the structure, because it was watching me. Of course it wasn't, but I couldn't stop the thought that it was. Hell, maybe it was. Maybe only the mad can decode the purpose of I34Q stuff. I felt how hard I was breathing and glanced over at Phoenix, wondering why he hadn't said anything. He was staring down. He was probably disassociating again, I realized later, but at the time all I knew was that I was alone.

I get angry at myself after my attacks. I feel so stupid. Phoenix apologized to me that night, which made me feel even stupider. I couldn't wait to get to the Santitos digger.

- = -

The next day was bad. Quiet, lonely, and frustrated. A further reminder of the reasons. I saw patches of 4Q purple grass climbing up the Rockies. We both took long shifts and entered Redwood park just after midnight.

- = -

I read a story once about a man that was falling in the dark. He was falling so far that he would die instantly when he hit the ground. He realized that his brain wouldn't have time to process the impact, or even the few moments before. And he couldn't see the ground. He couldn't see anything. All that was left in the world was him and his death. I wondered if Phoenix had read the same story, and was hoping for a similar effect, coming here at night. Of course, we got it wrong. There were clouds, burgundy with light pollution, and every few minutes a star would gaze through; an unearthly glow was cast up from distant pieces of the digger.

Some parts of the digger looked like the towers, spinning and shifting. Some parts looked like exposed microelectronics, cables sutured to shiny terminals of minute complexity. Some parts were just made of asphalt blocks, cream-, gray-, and lime-colored pebbles tightly embedded in dark tar. Distant redwoods, many damaged by fire, ringed the horizon. The Santitos digger was less an object and more a place.

I felt wordlessly close to Phoenix as we scrambled over asphalt, looking for a pit. We touched each other frequently in our effort, to assist, to communicate. We'd have to give each other boosts, lift each other up, look for alternate routes. This place was not made for people.

Finally we came upon a deep canyon. I had half a mind to walk off the edge immediately. But both Phoenix and I stopped to regard it.

I couldn't tell if the rumors were true. You could only see maybe a hundred yards down before the walls of the abyss disappeared into ink. Or, not ink--not blackness, either. People are black. This was something else. The most prominent features were the semi-perceivable red blotches left on my optic nerve after gazing at one of the digger's glowing sectors. The unknowable told me nothing. It just revealed the flaws of my being. Maybe we would achieve our effect after all.

"This is it," I said, elliptically. The beginning is the end. If you take out the 'h' that phrase is a palindrome. "That was the first thing I said out of the door before I got into your car on Saturday. If you take out the 'h' the phrase is a palindrome. The beginning is the end. This is elliptical. This is it."

"That ain't it." He was regarding me coolly.

I laughed.

He was angry. "Are you fucking kidding me? The point of this thing, the whole fucking point is you do it in your right mind. You're letting your madness make the decision for you. You have to make the decision!"

I found that extremely funny. I laughed harder.

"Shut up! Fuck!"

"What's a right mind?" I asked, still grinning. "There's no such thing anymore. Even when it was a thing, all it meant was the most socially-acceptable, capital-promoting mind. Now? The world doesn't fit us anymore. The human condition is inconvenient to its purpose. 4Q can't even train us. The right mind is a dead one. You want a right mind, go ahead." I gestured at the abyss. That's what I did.

He stepped forward. He stepped forward. A foot hung above the end.

I don't know what I would've done if he had lowered that foot, changing his balance, tipping him forward. Jumping in after him wouldn't have felt right. Maybe I'd have gone back to those red eyes in Nebraska and begged for them to torture me. Maybe his idiosyncrasies would have been repelled by the unknowable, flowing away from his body and into me, and I'd be lost forever in a derealized paranoia. Maybe I'd have gotten in the car and driven back home.

His foot remained, hanging, the edge a gallows. "Suicide is about pain. It's the ultimate response to ongoing distress. I never wanted you to be normal. I just didn't want you to be in pain. In a twisted way, I guess I thought, if this was your way of dealing with pain, I wasn't going to stop you. That is your right. I feel like that has to be your right." His balance was incredible. He remained still, a tree without wind. "But you can be abnormal, you can be a bad fit for the world, you can be utterly broken, and you can still live without pain." We're both crying. Tears descend into the pit.

| ' , |

I do think madness is the right way to understand I34Q. I feel this mysteriously. I wonder what it would be like if I tried going to T-school while embracing my altered states, living in them. I suspect Phoenix would have more success, being more comfortable with unreality. Not that either of us would participate in whatever hegemony 4Q perpetuates. More that we'd figure out what it wanted, and how to resist. I've been thinking about this a lot. Maybe other people are, too. We need to find each other.

Phoenix and I wandered north. We found this incredible queer community in Oregon, with actual traditions and mechanisms to deal with communal trauma. I can't say anything about the world, the world is unknowable. But I think there's hope for us.

Phoenix and I are together, now, in a way I can't quite name. We did finally make love. That was beautiful. But we don't live together. I make love to other people, sometimes, and he does the same. Sometimes I'll go a week or two without seeing him, without notice. Sometimes I'll go a few days without even thinking about him. I love him, and I tell him that, and he says the same to me, though both of us have admitted that we don't know what that means.

We still panic. I still get paranoid. Phoenix disassociates. He's been using the state to make art. I think about I34Q and write down what I think. I'm pretty good at eating regularly, even if I don't feel like it. I don't know if we're living without pain. I think maybe that's a pretty tall order. But I don't want to kill myself anymore. So I think that's pretty good.

[Ed.: have this little treat. It takes me about the length of this playlist to read the story.]

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5VD5lJJqNUJsITPj3Rg8Sn?si=d262096479104d4f

#fiction #short fiction #science fiction #aliens #madness #suicide #panic attack #disassociation #paranoia #eating disorder #hopeful ending

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dirtymikekidd · 3 years

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I’m a miserable f*ck

This is going to be the place where I write down how the day’s events have effected my interpersonal feelings. This first post will be a lot of random stories from my life that I feel like have shaped how I look at life.

I’m setting a course to change my outlook on my life. There has been many things that I’ve not been able to let go of. Most of them are little things that really shouldn’t bother me let alone still be thinking about years later. Hell I still think back to when I was in 8th grade. I was on my way to my history class. There was a girl that I had the hots for at her locker, which was right next to the class I was running late for. I decided to make a joke about a haircut that I had seen to her. you know, trying to break the ice. It kind of worked. She hadn’t ever given me the time of day. But I managed to make her laugh. The tardy bell rings, and I got into class. I only had a few seconds of feeling on top before the teacher, Mr. H., made a comment to me, which killed my feelings of elation. It was something along the lines of “Don’t even try, she’s way out of your league.”

It was one of the only times I’ve ever put myself out there like that. It felt like a huge slap in the face. I was 13 when that happened. I’m 27 now. Anyway, I’m getting a little off topic. I don’t expect anyone to read what I type here. I just know that it’s making things worse by keeping everything bottled up.

Let me start off by saying, I’ve gone through things that I can only hope that my children don’t ever have to go through. Growing up I became my family’s mortician. Not because we were intentionally killing any animals, but because I lived on a farm and you know, diseases and wild predators. Either way I’ve buried 1 dog, 3 cats, 3 sheep, a stillborn foal (baby horse), and roughly 10 chickens. I do think dealing with all of it as often as I did, has made me numb to death.

I was around 9 when I dug my first grave. It was for our dog, Auggie. he was a fat golden retriever. Like fat enough to get the nickname of “the coffee table”. You could put a cut of water on his back and it wouldn’t spill. He ended up being put down by gun... He either had a seizure or was electrocuted (because he used to lay up under our Christmas tree). Anyway so something snapped and he suddenly didn’t know who we were. He was growling and barking at my sister and me. My mom let him outside. Normally we wouldn’t put him on a chain or in a fenced in area because we lived in the middle of no where, and he wasn’t one to run off. This time he did. We found him at our closest neighbor’s house, roughly a quarter to a half mile from our house. Mom brought him home and put him in one of the spare horse stalls that we had. I overheard my mom and dad talking about how they weren’t sure what to do with him, as they were worried what he might do to me and my sister, or what he’d do to the other animals. It was decided it was his time. My dad asked me to go outside and dig a hole. But not by any barn openings or where water ran off. So I dug a hole. 4ft long, 3 ft wide, and about 3 ft deep. I went back in after it was dug, and my mom told me to stay in the house and don’t look outside until she came back in. She went outside carrying a .22g pistol. I knew what was about to happen. and even though she told me not to look outside, I still did. 2 shots rang out, Auggie dropped into the hole I had just dug not even 20 minutes before. A moment later another 2 shots rang. I didn’t know why it took 4 shots until I overheard my parents talking about it. Apparently Auggie was fat enough that the first couple bullets didn’t actually kill him. And when he dropped into the hole, he was crying in agony. The second 2 shots ended his suffering. He was my best friend growing up. And I hate that his life ended that way. I don’t hold any of it against my parents. I know they were trying to protect their family unit. I still think about him to this day.

The cats were inside/outside cats. Or as my dad called them, barn cats. In the 14 years we lived on the farm, we had at least 20 cats. Most of them were either hit by cars or another animal killed them. We had one cat, Thomas, who had just showed up one day. He looked just like Garfield. He had a huge gash on his front leg and a bowel blockage. Mom talked my dad into taking him to the vet. We got him all fixed up and basically adopted him. He became a mostly indoor cat, but he would still get let outside. He never took off anywhere. He would just kinda hang out in the barns hunting mice or laying in the sun. One Sunday morning I got up and looked outside. And there he was laying at the end of our driveway...internal organs hanging out. There was a blood trail that looked like he was hit in the middle of the road, then drug off to the side. I buried him right next to Auggie. the other two cats were killed by a dog we had been watching for a family as they went on a missionary trip.

The sheep were for a 4-H project that me and another kid had been working on. Let me rephrase, we were supposed to be working on it together, but he took off and I couldn’t get ahold of him. Anyway, so I don’t actually know what it was that killed them, but some animal had gotten in and ripped up their necks

The stillborn would’ve been the fifth horse born at our house. It was my dad’s dream horse with the color of its’ fur. It holds the record for the biggest sized hole I’ve dug to this day.

The chickens..... that’s a grave I wish I could’ve done differently. They’re the only mass grave I’ve ever dug. Two holes about 3 ft deep and about a foot wide. They didn’t make it through the sickness that most chickens go through in the first year or so of their lives.

Continuing on the subject of death..so back in 2008 my mom was kicked in the chest and arm by one of our horses as we were getting ready to start cleaning stalls. My dad took her to the hospital because they were sure she had a broken rib. She had x-rays done and what they found was worse.. masses in her lungs. The doctors did a full body MRI. Masses in the lungs and a couple more in the brain... cancer... stage IV lung cancer that had spread. We found out on New Year’s day. Within a couple weeks she was starting chemo. By September she had a treatment called “Gamma knife surgery” on the mass on her frontal lobe of her brain. They continued the chemo on her lungs, and things seemed to be going into remission. Her battle finally ended at 10;45pm on June 5th, 2010.... I wasn’t home when it happened. I was 2 towns over celebrating my best friend’s 16th birthday...I still haven’t been able to forgive myself for not being there...

I’m not sharing these details because I want sympathy. But because I’m stuck living in the past and I’ve never been able to get out of my own head. As the title says, I’m a miserable fuck because of it.

The next post will job stuff..

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swordsandsorcerypodcast · 6 years

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Mordigrim

Take a step into the mind of our group’s Human Warpriest of Groetus as he goes through his daily morning ritual. A Warpriest is a Fighter/Cleric hybrid class. Groetus is the god of the endtimes, he is depicted as the skull-faced moon above the Boneyard in which all souls venture to after death and it is said that Groetus will usher in the End of all things. As I’m sure you can guess, a devotee of Groetus might be just a touch mad. Mordigrim was created by and will be played by Brad. Told from the point-of-view of Mordigrim himself this short piece is an introduction to the character so that you can get to know him a little better before we begin our Carrion Crown Adventure Path.

Without further ado, say hello to Mordigrim.

“They do not see what lies ahead when sun is faded and moon is dead.” - Gollum

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I'm awakened by the sound of a single bird chirping on my window sill. The sun is not yet above the horizon but the soft glow of the inevitable daylight is just bright enough to illuminate the bird. I must have forgotten to close my window again. My throat and sinuses are dry and sore from breathing in the cool night air, the fireplace must have died out hours ago. I feel an ache in my back that instantly reminds me of just how old I am.

Forty-eight years ago I was born into a simple farming family a couple miles outside of Ravengro in Canterwall and I was given the name Mortimer Grimwauld. My family was known locally as “the Grims” and my name was quickly shortened to the nickname “Morti Grim” and eventually bastardized by the local accent to be “Mordigrim”. I always preferred Mordigrim over Mortimer, so I never protested the title. My father was a lifelong farmer, working in the fields from dawn until dusk. My mother was a devout cleric of Pharasma, she spent her free time caring for the locals of Ravengro. My older brother was a town guard and taught me how to fight. My older sister was a widow before I even hit puberty, she spent the remainder of her days helping to take care of me and our family home. All of them were killed twelve years ago.

Forty-eight years on this planet. I’ve had forty-eight years to prove my worth to Groetus. I don't believe I've earned his favor yet. I can only hope that I find what I'm seeking soon, I think another four or five decades of suffering in this world would be far too cruel. My eyes were opened to the truth of Groetus the day my family was slain. It was then that I came face-to-face with undeath and realized that the Endbringer is the only champion capable of ending such a scourge forever. Many think that the encounter drove me insane but they are wrong. I have only been truly sane since Groetus first revealed to me the truth of this world; this life is not our true life at all, it is merely a test. I long for the Boneyard and even more so for my reward that lies beyond.

I sit up in my bed and look over at the bird. He’s so small, so delicate, so blissfully unaware of how cruel this world is. How can he sing during times like this? Why does he not seem to fear me? I could easily crush him in my hand, his bones would shatter and crumble as easily as the egg shell he crawled out of. Yet here he sits singing me a beautiful song about the rising sun.

Perhaps he’s not unaware after all. Perhaps he knows exactly how cruel the world is. Maybe that is precisely why he sings for the daylight, a praise for the end of a long night. Maybe he knows as I know that Groetus is coming. Maybe he too sees that this world that we live in now is like the night and only after the Last Moon falls will the sun rise over a brighter new world. Only those strong enough to survive the night will be shepherded by Groetus to see the sun rise over our new world, the world that we righteous champions of the night will shape and build. Perhaps he sings not only for the sun but also in celebration of the glorious end of the wretched night.

I dress for the day. Black pants, heavy black boots, and a lightweight black tunic. I gather my armor and place it over my clothes, I have a knot in the pit of my stomach that tells me that today will be a day of danger. Atop my armor I wear a grey tabard with pale blue trim and a black skull on the front. Lastly I put on a thick black leather belt and a long black overcoat that nearly reaches the ground. My thick white beard is long and unkempt, it reaches to my stomach and the only care it's given is a braid on either side of my mouth. My hair, though bald on the top, is tied into a single thick braid that reaches down the entire length of my back. I've not cut either since I began my journey toward my true life and I don't bother fussing with either of them unless one of the braids happens to come undone.

I retrieve my traveling pack, filled with supplies, weapons, and my sacred fetishes. I then make my way over to the fireplace and with the poker I find a still-glowing ember, carefully place it in my fire carrier, and cover it with a layer of ash. I close my windows and step out into the cool dawn to begin my daily ritual. Outside of my door is a long path that leads through a densely wooded area and to the town of Ravengro. The ground within the woods is littered with dried sticks, limbs, and leaves. I begin collecting a number of small kindling sticks, then a few slightly larger twigs, and just a handful of medium sticks. I don’t need much. I return to my home and walk around to the east side of the building where I have long ago dug a 3-foot wide hole in the ground. The hole is filled with the ash of countless fires and is surrounded by a wide circle of dirt. I remove my hot ember from my fire carrier and place it in the center of the hole and then place the kindling, twigs, and sticks on top of it. Within minutes my small wood pile is flaming.

I sit next to my fire, facing the rising sun, and begin preparing my daily spells. I focus on protection spells this morning. Something tells me today will be the start of a long journey. I received a letter that informed me of the death of Professor Lorrimor. Today is the day of his funeral. Lorrimor had approached me years ago after my family was murdered by that undead abomination. Once every few months for the past twelve years he has visited my home to study me and any effects the undead might have had on me. He has always warned that one day I would have to face my fears again. Lorrimor’s only interests seemed to be in those abominations and their effect on myself and my fellow residents of Ustalav. What that thing was...and what it did...I don’t know if I’m prepared for another encounter. However, I must do whatever is necessary to prove my might to Groetus. Especially if it means destroying one of those...things. Nothing deserves a second life not granted by Groetus, a false life. Anything that lives after dying, no matter how soulless and empty that false life may be, is an affront to the will and work of Groetus.

I look down at my fire, it has calmed significantly. I must have gotten lost in thought again, I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here. This is but one of my traits which my neighbors attribute to a supposed mental affliction that I most certainly do not have. They think that my reverence for the Endbringer is surely madness. They do not understand what lies beyond. They have not looked into the eyes of a creature living a false life. They do not know the depravity and despair that lies there. They do not know how desperately this world needs to be Ended and cleansed so that we may start anew.

They look to Pharasma for protection against the undead. They are fools, all of them! When Pharasma reads the last name in the book of life it is Groetus who closes that book! It is Groetus who opens the next book! It is Groetus who brings the end and the beginning! It is Groetus! Pharasma is nothing but an orator, a mere herald in comparison to the power that is Groetus! Only the Endbringer himself will end this cursed life and bring the Last Moon to wipe away the undead hordes and every other evil in this world once and for all!

My fire is gone. It’s nothing but smoldering ash now. I was lost in thought again. From my pack I collect my shield, my two kukris, my holy mask, and my sacred skull. My shield is a light steel shield with blue trim around the edge and a black skull painted on the surface, I place it on the western edge of my fire pit. My two kukris are well-sharpened and quite heavy for their size, I place one on the north edge and one on the south edge of the pit with their blades pointed toward the darkness to the west. My mask looks like the top half of the face of a skull. It is made of thick boiled leather with the details of a skull structure carved into it, open eye and nose holes, and no jaw. It is painted ghost-white and has a leather strap that runs around the back of my head to hold it on. I place it on the eastern edge of my pit, looking forward toward the light of the sun. My sacred skull is my most holy fetish and I carved it long ago from the wood of an ash tree. It is a simple jawless skull and I carved a tunnel through the nose of it and out of the roof of its mouth so that I could run a bit of rope through it.

The local townspeople often fear my appearance. They are offended by my many skulls. They believe the skull is a symbol of death. I know better. The skull is the symbol of life. Only by looking through the eyes of death can I see the beyond, the true life. This world is ending and rightfully so, this world deserves its death and it is nothing to mourn for. It is only the next life that matters and only by going through the End can we reach it. This world burns hot, it is a raging chaotic fire of life destroying itself faster and faster the hotter it burns. When nothing is left but skulls and ash, then we may truly know peace. Only those who championed true life in this world will be chosen to write the next book of life and I intend to earn my place amongst them.

I use the sacred skull to stamp out any remaining embers and mix in the older surrounding ash to cool the remains of my fire. I rub ash all over the surface of the skull and then tie the rope to my belt. I then dip both of my hands into the ash and cover my face with it. I do this every day and now my nose, all around my eyes, and my forehead are stained a deep shade of grey. I pick up another handful of ash and spread it over my items around the pit. I gather my pack, place my shield on my back, sheath my kukris on my belt, and place my mask on my face. I am ready for my journey.

I look to my window sill and see that the bird is still sitting there, still singing his song for the light of the sun. He seems entirely unbothered by my ritual or my presence. The sun is now above the horizon and it is time for me to make my way to the town of Ravengro. I look back at the bird one last time and in that exact moment I see a black cat jump up and snatch the bird from off of the window sill. In an instant the bird’s song is ended by two sharp fangs quickly sinking deep into his throat. I take it as reminder to myself that I can’t make the dangers of the night simply disappear by worshipping the light, I must be both willing and able to fight back against those dangers as well. I thank Groetus for showing me this truth and I begin making my way down the path through the woods.

#pathfinder #tabletop #rpg #paizo #carrion crown #original character #warpriest #groetus #short story #swords and sorcery

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redshirtontherock · 6 years

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Kind of dug my heels in on a discussion with someone tonight and it’s still eating me. I stuck to my guns on the subject and I’m glad I did but anxiety is running a mile with it right now. I’ve been trying all night not to let it bother me - especially since objectively I know there are way bigger things on my plate right now. My family just changed our whole agreement for me potentially getting a student loan at the last minute and while...it’s still going to be possible for me to do this, there’s less of a safety net and I’m gonna have to be way more careful and frugal than before. Like way more.

I’ve been telling people this gets me half of what I was hoping for but the reality is based on the amounts I’d been talking to the bank about at first the reality is closer to a third or a quarter. This was the last piece of a plan I’ve been putting together for months and at the very last minute my family decided to change everything around on me and now I’m kind of stuck trying to figure out where to go from here. And it scares the hell out of me because now if I don’t zerg rush the last year of my degree and get right into graduate studies, I’m fucked. Not like “well, this is a setback” fucked but “well, I guess I have to move back in with my parents in Ontario and throw myself to the mercy of my family to sustain myself for the foreseeable future” fucked. “Game over” fucked. I’ve been working my ass off for years to get this degree done and put my life back together or on a track that I’m happy with and in the long run this could potentially destroy all of that. And I’ve known that sooner or later along this process I was going to have to start taking risks but this throws everything into borderline chaos now.

If they had just stuck to the plan this would all have been fine. Their excuse of course was that they didn’t like dealing with the banks, which is 110% crap. It’s either that they didn’t trust me enough to co-sign, or if it was their experience with the banks then it’s that I’m not worth the time for them to invest in this process. Maybe because they’re scared I’ll screw them over or that I won’t be able to pay back my loans. And because they weren’t upfront and didn’t change their story until the last minute, I’m screwed out of giving two weeks notice at my existing job, and probably screwed out of any alternative other than accepting the smaller amount they’ve offered to lend me directly. I’m more or less maneuvered into a position now where the only way I can make this work is by accepting the limited help that they’re extending me, which is enormously frustrating in its own way. The whole point of doing it this way is that I didn’t want to have to put any financial strain on them or to have to affect them directly - if they had just signed the damn piece of paper, this would have been fine. I didn’t want anything from them! I wasn’t asking them to do anything but co-sign on the damn loan, and instead of doing what they said they’d do now I have a fraction of the resources I was supposed to have going into this next year, where I’m only going to have part-time RA work to keep myself afloat. Weeks worth of preparation and work is down the toilet and I’m actually in worse shape now than I was when I started out.

I just don’t like confrontations. I don’t like arguments, I don’t like having to do that. And like...it’s different if it’s a discussion class or something related to work or school where I can keep myself emotionally in check better but...today I’ve had to talk to my parents and get the rug pulled out from under me, and I’ve had to talk to a friend who just...felt like they no matter what I said or did they were looking for a fight. Over something that...doesn’t have any real or tangible impact in our lives for the most part, about things that happened years ago. And I hate arguments like that, where it just...doesn’t need to happen. And not even because I said they were wrong, but because I said that I wasn’t going to condemn someone I know first-hand over things that I’ve only heard second-hand. It just leaves everybody feeling terrible.

And now I’m split between wishing I’d just kept my mouth shut but also being salty at the person I argued with earlier because this didn’t need to happen tonight. They just had to talk shit about someone’s who’s been an acquaintance and friend for years today. It couldn’t have waited just another twenty-four hours after everything else that went down today. Like, I still would have been intervened and it still would have been stressful for me, but why the hell did it have to be today?

Like...if it’s in a scholarly setting and I have my sources and evidence I can argue for days. Personal stuff just...drains me. It eats me alive, and just makes me feel even more like I want to crawl into a hole and not come out again. And right now I’m reaching a point where I don’t want to see my family, my friends, anybody. With like...very few exceptions right now. I can pretty much count on one hand the people I want to be around for any pronounced length of time anymore. I don’t deal well with confrontations or fights and it doesn’t help that my anxiety over the last few weeks has been through the roof because of work stuff and trying to get loans sorted out. I’m just not good dealing with people or emotions in general. I am shit at dealing with any and all feelings.

I mean, I’ve gotten a little better at it but I’m...still just a flighty, evasive, nope-ing bitch and I just want to be left alone. It’s why I try not to get into anything with my family or friends like this. I can’t be objective, I can’t deal with it. I just want to be left alone to study history, learn, write papers, make a difference, paint my miniatures, spend with my best friend, do RP stuff, eat, have good times with the found-family friends I’ve made for myself, and eventually die here. Thank fuck I’m not a space elf, or after I was dead they’d be shoving me into a spirit stone and back into a wraithbone mech, and then I would never be free of this bitch of an earth and its bullshit. I’m doing my best. I’ve been trying for years to just keep building up and get better and get stuff figured out and this month it feels like I’ve just been sliding farther and farther backwards.

It’s...just been a shit day. And I’m trying to stay upbeat and positive and not let things push me back into the dark place I’ve been trying to crawl out of lately, but it’s really been a shit day, in a shit month, and everything just sucks.

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harry-meepmeep-dresden · 5 years

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Serious Question

If I started posting some of my original content on Patreon or somewhere, how many people would be interested? Example of my original work below the read more. Please do not steal it. Still working out the kinks of some of the grammar software I use so please forgive me for anything that I’ve missed. I’ll try to get it fixed asap.

Please let me know if you like it as well <3

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Running for your life is not the best feeling or reason to run. That’s what Tham always said. Elves possessed a messed up view on the death thing since immortality gets boring after a while. The immortal pointy-eared humanoids only faced death when they wished too. Tham might end up laughing, dashing ahead, and even running backward most likely in this plight, but she wasn’t here. I, unfortunately, was. Legs burning as my feet hit the ground hard. A glance back at the screaming goblins let me know just how much ‘fun’ I'd have if I stopped running. It took most of my strength just to hold the large pack filled with a few valuables of questionable ownership.

All right, more than a few. A heavy few things.

If I wasted even a single precious bullet Tham‘d take it out of my hide, or worse my pay. She’d likely show even more anger if the items didn't get delivered. So for the sake of profit and the higher chance of survival the gun came out of the tight leather holster.

A risky chance to take, slowing enough so the goblins got in range, I peered over my shoulder and fired. One of the five shots expelled and a small cracked stone popped out of the gun. Lightning struck out from the muzzle and hit the first goblin, turning him into a gnomish lightbulb for a moment. The greasy hair stood up because of static before bursting into flame. Two others didn’t dive out of the way fast enough and became toasty. Luckily, while running, the stench couldn’t reach me.

Not much farther until I'd reach safety. Keep moving. Tham owed far more than proposed for this job. Foot massage, hot bath, and maybe even those fancy coffee beans the satyrs grew. Expensive stuff. Great distractions to think on instead of the pounding foot pain. The wagon soon came into view. The cliff took a higher drop than I remembered. Must have taken a wrong turn. Since the survivability, if I turned around and ran towards them, rested at zero to none, the alternative possibilities remained limited.

“Luey!” my shout startled the driver making him stare up towards the short cliff to his right.

He caught the bag of goods I threw at him. I leaped. I considered jumping still carrying everything, but I didn’t want to risk a landing on top. Instead, I fell onto the softer items we stored in the back. Gold encrusted boxes, with the gems, tended to break bones if you landed on them from a high, or even a regular fall. Learned from experience. A few experiences.

Upon my safe landing, Luey got the wagon moving as quick as possible. The goblins, not having soft items to land on opted not to follow, but hurled rocks at us. With a heavy sigh, I closed my eyes and tried not to let the bumpy road bother me.

“Um, where are your shoes? And one of your socks is missing too,” Luey, kept around for his outstanding observational skills.

“Oh you know, crawled through a narrow goblin hole. Gave them my shoes as a toll,” they’d pulled them hard enough they came off with one tug. The boots weren’t worth stopping and getting eviscerated to retrieve.

“I don’t think those shoes will fit them. Weren’t they brand new?”

“Luey, shut up please.”

“I mean you said you didn’t need help. With me there we might have killed most of them and made the others run. But no, ‘just a pickup job’ and-”

“Shut it. I will not admit I needed your help. I got out of there, didn’t I?” I attempted to end the conversation and succeeded with my interruption.

Never understood his overwhelming urge to be right. Then again, I think he just liked the sound of his own voice saying ‘I told you so’. His little snort made me want to use another bullet, but I opted to find one of the water skins and take a few long drinks.

After removal of the remaining sock, it ended up getting tossed overboard. What’s the point of keeping a single sock? I’d add the cost of the boots and a new pair of socks to the charge for the chest. Those were custom-made boots. My feet weren’t the normal size for more durable footwear. It took the cobbler over a month to make the forsaken pair. They fit perfect. If they were on my feet, then the soreness wouldn’t even be an issue. Most people‘s feet after running for three miles over the stones, sticks, and who knows what else would be sore, and bleeding. Boots would have prevented all of that.

With thirst satisfied I tried to get comfortable in the wagon. With my eyes closed, it didn’t take long to fall asleep.

“Dion, we’re here. I can’t find our papers from Tham. Where d’you put them?” Luey kept messing up my hair until I stopped pretending to be asleep anymore, even moving his hands to grip my shoulders and shake me just to make sure.

“Papers? You’ve got to be-” looking up as I spoke, my words caught when the bane of the current situation looked at me. “Hello, Raflinel.”

“It’s Rafinielle,” he gave me the normal disdain filled look as he corrected my purposeful butchering of his name. I didn’t like the guy, so making his life difficult filled mine with a hint of joy.

“That’s what I said. You needed our papers, right?” I sighed and began to dig into smaller crates.

For how much Luey deserved a throttling for his asinine superiority complex the man hid our goods well. I didn’t even have to worry over exposing them as I dug around inside the bag and brought up a scroll with a distinctive wax marking on it. A corner missing from being chewed off the paper. Transported worg puppies a couple weeks prior. Like every animal baby, they caused destruction to everything. The scroll gave us free passage to come and go without being searched or halted for more than an hour. The council, more concerned over weapons than any other illegal goods, meant the lovely sidearm might end up being confiscated by the guards until departure without that paper.

Sometimes the guards got greedy which is why Luey hid the bag with the chest in it. The goods we got weren’t always the kind guards enjoyed letting into the city without a cut. The guards made dirt for salary, but their jobs were to stand there and whistle if an attacks were inbound. Most of them didn’t even know how to wield the weapons they carried, so my sympathy for their lack of wealth is non-existent. They charged high, fake taxes and other miscellaneous amounts the city council didn’t demand and put it right into their own pockets. Travelers with an abundance of expensive objects have large purses and not knowning any better fell for it. In Faethes, a town between giant filled hills and goblin rich forests, the con artists were the real monsters.

One particular guard just liked to give people a difficult time. Something about him being one of the high guards of the capital or other nonsense. Not saying he’s a liar, he knows how to use the sword and bow, and might be the only non-corrupt member. This guard, Rafinielle, scrutinized the paper. He attempted a more serious approach to the job. Most of the other guards just let us through. Luey and I come here because it happens to be Tham’s preferred trading post.

“Rafi-nelly, we’ve come through here a dozen times and you know we have that paper. It makes no sense why you don’t just let us go through,” the same thing I say every single time he’s passed the paper back to me.

“Protocol. Without protocol and order, there’d be a mess. As a human, I don’t expect you understand any of that. Even if you have magic secret to longevity. Now be on your way. You cause any trouble and I’ll volunteer to be the one to throw you out of town. I’d take that weapon, and tear that damn paper to shreds," Rafinielle said. He's shorter than me while I sat in the wagon, but still managed to look down on me.

Pure, annoyance driven hate filled my thoughts as I shoved the paper back into the water safe pouch in the wagon. Luey, bless his soul, started the horse moving before I said a word. The movement caused me to bite my tongue and cut off the trouble filled words bouncing at the forefront of my thoughts. Once speaking proved out of the question I opted for a few lewd hand gestures instead. It’s rare when you can see an elf get flustered to the point their face goes red. The ability to annoy Rafinielle into embarrassment, I’m an expert at.

When we were far enough away Elven eyes couldn’t see finite gestures, I moved to dig through the packs to find a snack to eat. Didn‘t want to give him any reason to be suspicious.

Luey directed the horse through the large gates of worked wood and earth that marked the entryway of Faethes. Thirty feet tall hardened wood, grown straight from the ground and shaped into the protective walls of the city. The walls circled the entire expanse, except the three gates, which were open. When you live near giants, it only makes sense to have something just as big to keep them out. Entering the city always held a moment of awe for me. The patience the wall woodworkers possessed to create such a magnificent accomplishment is unimaginable. The walls, being living trees (although what kind I don’t know), grew an extra few inches every year, so in time, they might even touch the clouds.

Inside the city, all sorts of bustling occurred. Gnomes, elves of different races, dwarves, the half-breed something or others, and humans roamed and haggled. Yet no other human such as myself. Human, yes I am, but I lack the regular human lifespan. It made a few people angry and demand the explanation. If I had one, I’d give it in a heartbeat. For a price that is.

Speaking of prices, Luey stopped the wagon in front of Tham’s Treasures and Artifacts. Time to negotiate my way into getting a new pair of boots.

Chimes sounded as Luey and I entered the shop. Glowing orbs provided enough light for shoppers to browse the wares.

For the number of things available, there were far too many shelves lining the walls. Each item appeared to have a solid foot of space around it. Valuables were breakable. To make sure a person didn't bump and break something providing enough space is essential.

People journeyed to Faethes to purchase rare items at Tham's place. Containers, clothing, jewelry, and far more sat on display. Tham kept most of the rare loot in the back. This included spell bullets, enchanted items, rare gems, and weaponry. To discourage thieves, Tham secured her rarer wares in a room behind the counter. I wouldn't suggest trying to get into that back room either. Tham kept a ward on the passageway. Even if I tried, no way could I live through the attempt to break in. Rumor is that she made the ward herself. If Luey didn't stop me on our first visit my extra-long life might have met a quick end.

A few travelers were talking with Tham. It looked as though she had a chain with a green crystal hooked on the end. Most likely they wanted the crystal. Our business isn’t urgent so Luey and I waited.

Travelers from other cities came to Faethes often. Many considered Faethes the capital city of Constalence. Faethes, on top of being the capital, more humans lived there than any other city. Might be because of how safe the tall walls appeared. As short-lived beings, humans did not occupy many positions of power. The highest ranked human represented all the humans on the city council. They deserved at least one vote.

Humans, such cowards. Most didn't chance to leave the safety and remained content with manual labor. That small fact might be why Rafinielle hated me. If I acknowledged his opinions on me that might hurt my feelings.

The elves finished their purchases and began to leave, eyeing me on their way out. It’s great being considered a second-class citizen. Even if humans made up a large part of the population of Faethes, most unable to afford to shop at Tham's. If I told them I'd provided Tham with that jewel they'd laugh. No need fussing over it.

Tham looked to us and smiled. She wore her hair up in braids today. Tham's ears poked out of her hair. Tham adorned the two points with mithril clips. Her skin showed the immortal radiance of the elves with how smooth it appeared. She wore powder on her cheeks and a green shade on her eyelids. Never understood the urge to wear different colored powders. Sometimes it looked nice, but it wasn't for me.

"Dion!" she exclaimed and moved around the counter. "How's my favorite human thief?"

“You have more than one human thief?” I grinned. “It's more of a treasure hunter instead of a thief.”

"You take goods never in your possession prior. You can call it whatever you'd like, but that still screams 'thief' to me. If I had another, you'd still be my favorite," she wrapped her arms around my shoulders and brought me in for a hug.

Tham stood a few inches taller than me. Elves' natural height might make a human feel short, even if the human is of average height. I looked up to meet her sparkling blue eyes and couldn't help but smile. Tham acts selfish, impulsive, and underestimate the danger retrieving boxes filled with who knows what. She remained one of my closest friends despite those traits. However, the idea she might sell me out if offered a good price didn't escape my attention.

My smile faded as she moved to take the box.

"Hey now, no business just yet. We have to renegotiate the price. Getting this took far more effort than initially advertised. I lost my shoes. So we need to chalk a pair of custom leather boots onto the bill," my smile came back when she pouted.

She hated negotiations because that meant someone possessed something she wanted. Neener, neener I've got the pretty box.

Her pout broke as she sighed before speaking, "You are an exasperating human, aren't you, Dion? Fine. New boots added onto the bill."

“Brand new, custom, leather boots.”

“Brand new. Custom. Leather. Boots,” she confirmed.

When dealing with elves or any merchant, a person needed to make sure that their demands were meticulously precise. Merchants might act like a djinn towards a helpless buyer. By this I mean they could give a person what they wanted, without it being what they wanted. I wanted new, custom boots. Tham said 'new boots'. If I accepted the proposal, she could end up giving me the cheapest new boots she could find without breaking the verbal contract. The boots didn't even need to fit me. The boots could end up crocheted instead of leather. So always double check your accords.

"Deal," I passed her the box.

Her smile grew immensely when she got to hold the small chest. It didn't appear as anything out of the ordinary. Then again, she desired what’s tucked away inside the chest. Tham moved to set the box on the counter before reaching into her pocket. She drew out a few small crafting tools for lock picking. Although she could have asked me to pick the lock, she attempted to do it herself. Refusing to ask the professional, me, to do their job only hurt my pride a smidge.

Luey looked around while I kept my eyes on Tham and her attempts. When a small 'snap' sounded her face turned pinker than the powder made it appear. After a couple of minutes, two 'snaps', and a couple tiny broken tools she raised an eyebrow at me. Her eyes narrowed, and I tried not to smile. I swear, I tried not too. Her little huff made it that much harder to fight off a grin. She stepped back from the counter. With my pride bandaged, I moved to get out my own tools to unlock the chest. I moved to take up space she'd left so I could get to work. Trap dismantling and lock picking were art forms. Any idiot could throw paint on a canvas or shove two metal parts into a hole. That didn't mean they'd get the desired results. Just a slight twist and-

"OW!" I jumped back and looked at my fingers.

The chest’s defenses relied on more than a solid metal lock to keep people out. My tools rested inside the lock. A shock of light snapped between the two metal parts. Lightning magic triggered by all other means, but the right key. That made things more interesting.

Tham looked at me with a smug expression. The corner of her lip drawn up in a smile and one of her eyebrows raised. No way I'd admit this might be difficult. Instead, I drew out my thick gloves and went back to work. The leather began to heat as I continued working. A rather dramatic 'click' sounded as the lock popped open. Okay, maybe it might have been less dramatic than I thought, but still dramatic. With my still gloved hands, I opened the box.

Foam padding surrounded glass orbs inside the chest. The foam protected the orbs from damage. No doubt the foam did its job since the contents appeared in prime condition. A lump formed in my throat when I remembered how roughly I'd treated the chest on my escape. Tham’s chances of murdering me if the treasure inside ended up damaged rather high.

“I thought you said this‘d be a treasure. Rubies and diamonds. What’s in here are glass globes with some kind of liquid inside," reaching into the chest I intended to pick one up to look closer at it. Luey's hand grabbed my wrist and prevented it from going any closer to the glass. "Hey! What's the matter Luey?” "You shouldn't touch those," he looked at Tham. "You lied to us."

The tone of his voice, so deep and emotionless made me swallow a sudden lump in my throat. Simultaneously, my mouth felt dry. Luey never got angry in the years I'd known him. The immortal man of stranger unknown origin than myself never got angry. Not until now.

"I said there was a treasure. If Dion and yourself thought it mean jewels and coins, then that is your mistake," Tham pulled the chest across the counter to rest in front of her. "Honestly, I thought the contents of the chest were likely worthless bobbles."

"Those are nowhere near bobbles," he growled deep in the back of his throat and reached to take the box back. "I should destroy These."

"I'm sorry, but no. They're my property now," Tham argued although her hands trembled as Luey stood up straighter.

Luey towered over most, including elves, and because of that, few people knew he often slouched. When he stood up straight, he almost gained another foot in height. Slowly, I began to back away. This might not end well if Tham continued to argue.

"Fine. I’ll get to research them first. I also want to see how you 'destroy' them and tell me everything you know for this exchange and will not pay you for the job," she bit her bottom lip.

"Custom leather boots are not negotiable," Luey said before releasing his side of the chest. "You owe us that much for the trouble of getting these. I would never have let Dion accept this job if I'd known."

Okay, now he might take it too far. I'm an adult thank you very much and can make my own stupid mistakes. By human standards, I’m an elder. Not that it made me any smarter, but Luey didn't have to rip the bandage off of my pride that quick.

“Uh, Luey, I agreed to it. You don't have a say in what I agree or disagree too,” a simple argument that started and ended as he turned to look at me. No way I‘d be stupid enough to continue when he gave me that look. “Even if you refused, you don't control what jobs I accept or not. It's my choice. You might be my friend Luey, but you are not my keeper.”

My mouth beat my brain to the punch.

“You're right on that account, but as a friend, I wouldn’t let you accept,” Luey said, his voice softening to a father-like tone. “It is something that humans shouldn’t touch or worry over.”

"So what are they?"

"That is not important," he reached into his pocket before bringing out a few gold coins to hand to me. "Go get your boots."

I was not a child. Luey looking so worried that it made me scared. Not trembling in my boots scared, more ancient curse fear. I'd handled dangerous items before, things that almost killed me, and yet he basically forbid me to touch one. His eyes looked at my own, his stony features standing firm and immovable.

Taking the gold I left to find the cobbler.

0 notes

rosyredlipstick · 7 years

Note

Hi! I love your aphrodite cabin fics. Could write something about one of the aphrodite boys and an ares boy?

As I just mentioned Stefan noticing how an Ares guy waschecking him out, I’m gonna assume that’s who you want ;)

Hope you enjoy! Just a quick drabble that’s unedited and was wrote in an hour ENJOY MY SPELLING MISTAKES.

Piece of Data - Drabble.

Stefan was a distraction.

Both in the sense of because of his absolutely entrancing beauty(his own words) and, well, in the technical sense.

He liked the focus on the first part, okay?

He was bait, he absolutely knew. Mitchell was in a treesomewhere, knocking out the blue team as they edged towards their flag, andScarlett and Drew, along with a few Hermes girls, were on guard duty – probablya mile away.

Mitchell had at least winced when he gave out Stefan’sposition, an apologetic look on his face.

An Ares kid wouldn’t be able to refuse a fight, especially fromsomeone who was doomed to lose from the beginning. They’d – hopefully – be distractedenough with Stefan to not notice when Sebastian and a few Apollo kids snuck by.They had used this strategy before, and the last person to have this job was inthe infirmary for days, but it worked and they were desperate for a win.

He took a breath, his position under the guise of guarding a‘secret’ entrance (with poorly thrown vines covering the small cave to nowherethat would hopefully act as another distraction), and allowed himself to notfocus on the amount of concealer he was going to have to buy to leave thecabin.

Stefan was resting against the side of the cave, running hisfinger around the detail in the handle of his blade, when he heard the tell-talestomping across the dirt, heavy-footed and heading straight his way.

He stood straighter, his sword coming up, already knowing –Ares kids were the only campers whowalked that way, and Stefan was in the wide-open.

He wasn’t any good with a sword, not like Mitchell was withhis bow, or Drew was with her knives. He was average, able to beat maybe Sophiaon a bad day but never a match forLacey.

And he definitely wasn’ta match for an Ares kid.

But he was anything, he was stubborn, and he wasn’t goingdown without a fight, however terribly fought.

Maybe if he got a few bruises Mitchell would feel bad enoughto persuade Connor into sneaking in a pizza like when Lacey broke her ankle.That’d be nice, at least.

The camper – tall, clearly male but hidden behind distanceand the gold cover of his mask – emerged from the side, coming to a slight stopas he noticed Stefan in the clearing. The gray Ares symbol was stark againstthe honey armor, a threat and a promise in the image.

He was big, that was obvious even without the bronze armorcovering his impressive biceps and wide shoulders. He took a few steps closerto Stefan, a moment of hesitation crossing before he pulled out his sword.

Stefan dug his heels into the dirt, a determined lineangling across his face. The kid looked to be alone, but Athena and Ares hadteamed up for this game so trusting his eyes was out of the question.

“You’re not going past here.” Stefan told him, keeping hishands steady on the cool metal.

The guy took a step forward, his sword swinging with hisstep. “Why they’d put you out here? On your own?”

His voice seemed to be filled with light concern. Unsure ifit was mocking, Stefan scowled instead.

“I don’t need anyone out here.” Stefan lifted his sword overhis shoulder, ready for when the other guy would inevitably attack. Vaguely, hethought of pizza.

The guy paused, his face still hidden under his goldenhelmet. “You’re bait, aren’t you?” He glanced around, apparently looking forwhatever Stefan was hiding. Desperately, he hoped his teammates weren’t stupidenough to run right away.

Stefan huffed out a breath, a little offended. I mean, justbecause it was true doesn’t mean thisAres jerk could say it.

“Are we going to fight, or what?” Stefan asked, less urge toactually fight, more urge to swing his blade at the other guy and maybe denthis armor up a bit.

The Ares jerk was interrupted by the snap of a twig, apparentlysignificant enough to make his whole body freeze up. Stefan resisted the urgeto reach out and pet the other guy’s tensed muscles – they were actually prettyspectacular.

The guy snapped out of his brief shock, spinning around tostare into the forest, leaving his back exposed which was…unheard of, with Areskids.

Whatever the guy saw had him turning back to Stefan, anervous line making up his shoulders.

Damn, did this guy have nice shoulders.

Stefan was weak, okay?

The guy glanced behind him, a nervous motion, and took astep back. “Go.”

Stefan paused, his nervous hands tightening around hisblade. “What?”

The guy waved his hands to the side, still staring behindhim. “Go! Before Quinn and Astrid get here.”

Despite what Scarlett had been drilling into him since hisfirst Capture the Flag, his defense dropped at that, and his stared up at theother boy with a look of confusion. “What are you talking around?”

The guy huffed out a breath, and Stefan had the suddenlydesire to know who he was actually talking to under the armor. “Just go,Stefan!” His words sounded like they were being demanded through gritted teeth,“I don’t want you to get hurt, okay? Go!”

Stefan blinked a few times, and it wasn’t until the guyreached forward and pushed him back that he finally came to his senses. Anotherpair of stomping feet was suddenly audible, and while Stefan could brave thepunch of a single demi-god, three on one? No one would blame him for running (exceptDrew, but she would blame him on the rain if she could figure out how).

He stumbled back, finally realizing, and shot off before hecould think to utter out a thank you or question.

The plan fell apart anyways – Sebastian twisted his ankleand Hina and Kayla got captured before they could use the distraction. Blueteam won, and it was enough for them to agree to try the plan again next week.

Stefan ignored the worried glance Mitchell shot him as hevolunteered as bait.

Stefan was actually really into science.

Always had been – his dad was always off at work and hiscollege-age babysitter clearly had no reference for children age material andwould therefore simply read her class textbooks for him as a bedtime story.

They always worked to put him to sleep, that’s for sure.

But when he was ten – before everything with his familyhappened and he was forced to run off to the vague idea of a camp in New York –the bedtime stories actually became…cool. Maria was long out of college bythen, but didn’t think to trade her reading material for anything moresensible.

So when other kids were reading A Series of Unfortunate Events, and fell asleep to characters of HarryPotter – Stefan was getting chapters of Physics textbooks, and dreamt ofexploding stars and black holes.

And, because of that, Stefan had never had less than A- inany of his science classes.

It’s also why he was so fond of experiments.

And this, right now, this situation was an experiment.

He had his materials – himself, mainly, but also his weaponand armor.

Procedure – go along as closely as possible to last week’sevents, staying alone in the clearing as bait.

His purpose – find out why exactly a son of Ares wouldresist the opportunity to fight – and if he’d do it again.

His hypothesis: As the situation was the same as last week,the son of Ares would come back to the clearing. The result: Unknown, more dataneeded.

Stefan waited there, his finger tapping out a nervouspattern on his handle. He had taken off his helmet long ago, more curious todetermine who the guy was. Anyways, it was within arm’s length and wouldn’ttake more than a moment to put on.

It took a bit longer then last week – perhaps due to theDemeter attack they planned on the West end of forest, but he was back.

It was the same guy, Stefan knew. The mental image of hisstrong shoulders, not even weighted under the heavy armor, had been a frequentmemory of the last week.

The armor added just enough bulk to distort what Stefan knew– he’d been staring that the other cabin all week, desperate to find familiarlines in their bodies, a familiar note in their voices.

The guy walked slowly to him, not even disgusting the facthe was heading straight for Stefan. He hadn’t drawn his blade, not like lasttime, but kept his arms loose at his sides.

The guy sighed as he stood in front of Stefan, and the soundwas almost amused. Weird. “Didn’t you learn from last time you shouldn’t hangout here alone?”

Stefan leaned on his sword, the blade sinking into the softearth a bit. “I can handle myself.”

He hummed, “So that’s why you’re bait right? And where’syour helmet?”

“I don’t want hat hair.” Stefan told him, angling up hischin like he’d seen Drew do.

Something like laughter shook the guy’s shoulders and Stefansuddenly so suddenly wanted to know who it was. “Aphrodite kids, of course.Shoulda known.”

He had a slight southern accent to his words. Stefan fiercelywished he had paid more attention to when the Ares and Aphrodite kids wouldmeet up, wish he knew more than justtheir names and ass shape.

He added the fact of the accent to his data, continuing on.

“I’d say the same about you except…” Stefan grinned, and heknew how it made him look. He let off a bit of his allure – not much, they werepublic after all – and said, “You didn’t fight me. What was that about?”

He shrugged, drawing even more attention to his shoulders which, um, fuck. “I like you.” He said, matter-of-fact. Stefan’s cheeks, embarrassingly,heated up at the frank sentence. “I’m not gonna fight you if I like you.” Hecocked his head to the side, his voice curious. “Is that why your cabin put youhere?”

Stefan opened his mouth to deny the fact except, um, didthey?

They were all forced to watch Mitchell moon-eye over Connorlast summer, each sworn to stay out of each other love lives. They would neverdirectly intervene, no, but this was the kind of subtle motions his cabin wasfluent in.

Stefan paused. Didthey?

Before he could answer – thankfully, because Stefan had no idea – the guy froze up again, likelast week, and spun towards the forest, then Stefan.

He cursed, “Clarisse is coming.” The guy hissed, not pushingStefan away – like last week – but pushing him back towards the cave. “Hide!”

Stefan actually did as told because, um, Clarisse was fucking terrifying.

The cave wasn’t big, just enough space to walk around a bit,hardly standing at full length.

But it was perfectfor hiding – specifically if you curl up in the corner of the shadows.

The stomping got closer, the sound lightening as she emergedin the grassy learing. Stefan couldn’t see the head counselor, could hardly seethe edge of the guy’s back through the vines – now was really not thetime to notice but Stefan was suddenly so grateful that the Ares kids nevermissed leg day because damn -

“I cleared this area.” Stefan could barely hear the guy tellher, “Roxy and Hunter took the east part of the forest.”

She grunted in agreement, “Good. They’ve got good eyes. Youdone here? Annabeth is about to make the attack for the flag and we needdefense.”

“Yeah, I’m done – let’s go.”

There was a moment of silence – a pause, and Stefan wonderedhow long he should wait before crawling out. The quiet was broken, and whenClarisse spoke up, her voice was much more closer then Stefan would havepreferred. “Did you check that cave?”

“Nothing there. Some spiders, a few garden snakes.”

That must have been the right thing to say, because Clarisse’svoice was much more distant as she responded. “Gross. Alright, find Eliza and –“She cut herself off, her voice edging up. “Shit! That’s Kayla! Get her!”

Both of them shot off after Kayla, hopefully missing howHina was shadowing after her, Sebastian ahead.

He was left alone, the sudden quiet leaving him with aphysical presence in the cave, as well as a major fact.

Stefan…had to figure out who that guy was.

It couldn’t be Archer – much too young – and they hadmentioned Hunter. That left…Sherman, Mark, Arsen, and Ellis. For the first timein his life, Stefan cursed the similar, tall, muscular build that all the olderAres teens carried.

He needed to figure this out.

And he needed more data.

The red flag was flowing through the air, and his team was still screaming their heads off.

Scarlett had cried, and Mitchell was still pretending hispink eyes had to do with lack of sleep.

They had thrown Stefan in the air, each demanding to know howhe’d managed to distract two Areskids while Sebastian and Hina snuck by without even getting a bruise.

Stefan was still laughing, pretending like his story wasmore interesting then “I hid in the cave”and pretending to take the tale to his grave.

His siblings and friends surrounded him, each high on theirown version of the game. Mitchell and Connor, disgustingly, were lip-locked inthe middle of the crowd, Connor’s winning move of delivering the other side’sflag apparently still being rewarded.

Stefan was laughing as Lacey hung off him and Sophia’sshoulders, her feet kicked up so she could swing between them. Both of them,giggling, hugged him tight, Sophia’s hand coming up to ruffle his hair. Theypulled away, running off to apparently octopus Sebastian as he held Sabrina onhis shoulders.

Their team was integrated with each cabin freely running backand forth, a Demeter girl hand-in-hand with Scarlett, a Hermes guy trailingafter them both, each of them beaming with victory as they ran off. There wasalready a rumor the Hermes cabin had a victory celebration planned, and fromthe several cotton candy machines being wheeled out, it wasn’t just that.

Stefan was just peeling off a hug from Sabrina, Sebastianrunning off in her wake as she shot away, when something – someone – caught thecorner of his eye.

Ellis – one of the Ares kids around his age, strolled up toStefan, grinning, and Stefan’s world nearly took a 360.

Ellis…had really nice shoulders.

And had always stared at Stefan’s collarbones more then normal (which, Stefan had amazing collarbones, he knew this, so it was to be expected to a certain extent)

Stefan had the sudden vivid memory of one of the Hermes kidsSpring Break parties last month, where there was too much alcohol and not enoughadult supervision, where Stefan had made out with three separate guys in onenight – Malcolm, who still avoiding his eyes, Basil, who was the biggest flirt inDemeter and still winked at Stefan from across the Mess Hall, and –

And Ellis.

He had been so fuzzy that night, just happy to be in someone’sarms with all their attention on him. It had been the end of the night, andStefan was always, uh, excited afterhis third drink, and Ellis had…

He blinked, nearly dizzy with the forgotten memory.

…Ellis had dropped him off with Mitchell, laughing andpulling off Stefan’s arms as Stefan tried to push down his pants. He winked,telling Stefan to come back if he actually remembered anything in the morning.

Stefan hadn’t, not at all, only remembering bits and piecesof warm mouth and dark hair, not really thinking of how he ended up waking upin Mitchell’s bottom bunk. Had only known it was three guys instead of the two he remembered from Sebastian’s later teasing about one-upping him.

Ellis was grinning down at him now, amused, his helmettucked under his arm.

And that….that was the last piece of data.

Hope you enjoyed, anon! And I apologize for my many mistakes but i’m tired and I have homework

#asks #rosy answers #fic #my fic #ares cabin #aphrodite cabin #my ocs

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sejinpk · 7 years

Note

So for that top 5 ask meme thing... How about top 5 live action films?

Thanks for the ask! I don’t often talk about live-action movies, so I’m glad you asked this! ^_^ There are only four entries because there are really only four live-action movies that I feel like I can confidently say are truly favorites.

1. American Psycho

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American Psycho is the first (maybe the only?) satire where I feel like I’m actually able to see/get the satire for myself, though, admittedly, this was only after the commentary initially told me as much. >.

This clip highlights what I’m talking about regarding multiple levels, specifically the part starting right around the 1:15 mark (note: the clip is VERY NSFW!!!!).

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On the one hand, it’s a horrifying scene in which a crazed Christian Bale is chasing a prostitute through his apartment building with a chainsaw. She bangs on other residents’ doors and screams loudly, but nobody comes to help her, or even to see what’s going on. And eventually Bale kills her with the chainsaw, just as you think she might have been able to get away. It’s heartbreaking.

But on the other hand, right at that 1:15 mark, you see Christian Bale sort of *giggle* trot into view covered in blood and wearing nothing but *snort* socks and tennis shoes, carrying a *kheheheeheaahhhaahahahahaaa* chainsaw in front of him like a *full-blown laughter and cackling* demented phallic symbol, running buck naked through his apartment complex, and he somehow has perfect aim to be able to drop the chainsaw down the middle of what looks like three or four stories of spiral stairs so that it actually hits the woman he’s chasing. The absurdity of the scene is absolutely hilarious.

I love Christian Bale’s acting as Patrick Bateman. I also really like Willem Dafoe’s performance. In fact, I like most of the performances in the movie. Regarding Bale in particular–and this is something said by the movie’s director in interviews–he really understood the dorkiness and the pathetic nature of Bateman. I think thefirst video clip above highlights some of this (random interesting fact: apparently Christian Bale can sweat on cue, as he broke out in a sweat at the exact same time in every take of that scene), as does this clip of Bateman’s music monologues, which are hilarious (I wanted to include the video in this post, but Tumblr apparently has a 5-video-per-post limit, so this is the one that got cut).

The movie is legitimately funny, both because of Bale’s portrayal of Bateman, and because of the satire. I think it does a really good job of getting you to laugh at him, rather than with him (in this case, that’s the intended effect). The movie also handles its tone very well, which was super-important for creating the effect the filmmakers wanted.

I also think the movie’s themes and social commentary are interesting and still relevant today, even though the story is set in the 80′s, the movie was released in 2000, and the book the movie is adapted from was published in 1991. It’s only been on the last one or two re-watches (I’ve watched the movie several times) that I’ve started to understand how the movie uses physical violence and the horror elements as a metaphor for class- and economic-based systemic violence.

2. Dawn of the Planet of the Apes

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I also really like Rise of the Planet of the Apes, which this movie is a sequel to, but I like Dawn of the Planet of the Apes a little more. The key thing I love about these movies (and especially Dawn) is the humanity they give both the human and ape characters, which is what makes the drama and action so compelling. Both sides of the conflict, humans and apes, are given so much depth and nuance. Their conflict isn’t black and white, and you’re able to understand, and empathize and sympathize with, both sides equally strongly.

I think the character work in the movie is incredible. Practically all the characters we get any kind of time with are developed–we can see how they think, what motivates them, what their priorities are, even if they’re given very little screentime. One of my absolute favorite emotional scenes in the movie is when Dreyfus, Gary Oldman’s character, turns on his phone after the humans get power back, and as he’s looking through old pictures of his family, who have died, he just completely breaks down. It’s such a moving, heartbreaking scene.

Also, Andy Serkis + motion capture = Dawn is a poster child for this.

3. Tai Chi Master

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So far, there have only been two works of fiction that have had a significant influence/impact on my life in some way. One is the Monogatari Series. Tai Chi Master (called Twin Warriors in the U.S.; original Chinese title 太極張三豐(Tàijí Zhāng Sānfēngin Mandarin)) is the other. This movie is what got me interested in learning tai chi, which eventually led to my broader interest in health, which in turn led me to where I am today, in school studying to become a Registered Dietitian.

It’s the story of the supposed legendary founder of tai chi, Zhang Sanfeng (played by Jet Li), though I don’t know how closely it adheres to the actual legend. I find the movie generally enjoyable, but the main reason it’s on this list is because of the impact it had on my life.

This sequence in particular, in which Jet Li’s character is figuring things out, testing ideas, and going through the initial process of creating tai chi, is what enamored me so much and got me interested in learning it (of course, the tai chi in the movie is stylized and exaggerated to varying degrees):

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On a somewhat related note, I’ve heard of a movie called Pushing Hands (the name of an essential practice for developing sensitivity in internal martial arts), which has at least a tangential connection to tai chi (but sounds interesting even if the connection is really weak), but I have yet to get around to seeing if I can find it to watch.

4. How the Earth Changed History

(I wasn’t overly fond of any of the video clips I found, so that’s why there’s not one here.)

How the Earth Changed History, originally called How Earth Made Us in Britain (it’s a BBC production), narrated/presented by geologist Iain Stewart, is easily my favorite documentary. It’s about how planetary forces have shaped human history. It’s broken up into five parts. The first four parts each focus on a planetary force: water, the deep earth, wind, and fire. The fifth part focuses on how humans have influenced/affected the planet.

One thing I really like about this documentary is that it’s entertaining. In addition to just making the narration interesting, Stewart goes the extra mile to take the viewer into some really neat places, such as inside holes and tunnels dug to get at groundwater; a crystal cavern (a giant chamber that was initially sealed and filled with water, in which enormous crystals grew); on a catamaran in the ocean; the middle of the Sahara desert; various archaeological and historical sites; through a literal fire; etc.

I also found the information itself really interesting. Here are a few of what I thought were the highlights:

In the wind/air segment, he talks about how the Sahara desert (which is formed and maintained by large-scale wind patterns) acts as a natural barrier, which, in the past, inhibited trade between civilizations on different sides of it. As a result, a town/city (I don’t remember the name) in a key mid-desert location became an important trade hub. Centuries later, Christopher Columbus discovered the trade winds (more large-scale wind patterns), which ultimately led to a new trade route/cycle that bypassed the mid-desert city. Thus, the wind was influential in both the city’s rise and fall.

In the deep earth segment, he talks about the relationship humans have with fault lines: they enable us to more easily get at the various minerals that arise from within the earth, such as copper, but they’re inherently dangerous (earthquakes). Humans now have the ability to shield our buildings from the impact of earthquakes; it’s all a matter of choosing to do so.

The “Human Planet” segment is where I learned about the Svalbard Global Seed Vault. He also talks about an Indonesian mud volcano, which is still erupting. In the documentary, Stewart says it was caused by human activities (drilling), but it sounds like there’s still debate about that, with some scientists supporting drilling as the cause, and others saying it was caused by an earthquake. Either way, the documentary shows that the incessant mud bubbling up from inside the earth literally buried the nearby town, and that was six to seven years ago (the documentary was released in 2010, and the mud volcano began erupting near the end of May, 2006). I can’t imagine how much worse it’s gotten.

In addition to what I’ve said about the documentary, I came across a very well-written review on Amazon that does an excellent job of describing the content and discussing why I find it so interesting.

I don’t normally like to do this, but I really want more people to watch this documentary (honestly, though, it’s only like $10 - $15 new on Amazon), so here are links to each segment on YouTube:

Water

Deep Earth

Wind

Fire

Human Planet

Again, thanks for sending me this ask! I really enjoyed making this post! ^_^ If there’s anything you want to respond to, please feel free to do so! :D

#b1689q #American Psycho #Dawn of the Planet of the Apes #Tai Chi Master #How the Earth Changed History #SejinPK answers

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