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thegeekerynj · 3 years

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All Death Metal Review (And nothing from Sweden!)

Death Metal: Trinity Crisis One Shot

Writer: Scott Snyder Artist: Francis Manapul

‘And who are YOU supposed to be? I’ve faced enough Dark Knights that no Batman scares me anymore!

Ha! Then it’s a good thing I’m not a Batman! I’m his MOTHER!’

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Sweet Christmas! That took me by surprise!

Harley kissing Jonah Hex, that was really sweet, and gods awful creepy, and kinda gross, after the exchange, and some thought…

This is it, Gentle Readers… the Beginning of the End of the Beginning of… Oh, crap, now I’m lost… This is where the story starts rockin’!

The Gang’s all together, and the Black Lantern Bat has determined what they need to do.

The plan? Split up, naturally. That AL-ways works…

When we left them in DM #3, the Lanterns are protecting the Home Base, and taking out the Crisis Energy Antennae on the Earths left in the known Universes, The Flashes are off and running through the Speed Force, trying to find Metron, and stay ahead of the Bathattan who Laughs, while the Trinity (Superman / Antilife, Black Lantern Batman and Warden Wonder Woman) along with Swamp Thing, Harley, Hex and Jarro, head for Castle Bat, to gain access to the Crisis Earths, where the Crisis Energy is being harvested for Perpetua.

**WHEW!**

Getting into the Castle involves getting past an army of Dark Knights… and we have a bunch of real winners here!

Bat Monday - Salomon Grundy in Bat ears, I could have busted a gut laughing, until I thought about what kind of weapon a zombie with Batman’s training could be, and shivered…

Kull, the daughter of Batman and Wonder Woman, corrupted by the Dark Universe…

Ark, the living embodiment of Arkham, with all of the knowledge and abilities of ALL her worst inmates…

Chiroptor, the amalgam of Batman and Chemo (Great Elder Gods!!)…

And the Pearl, Martha Wayne, in the equivalent of HellBat Armor, complete with her iconic pearl necklace.

This is a real mindscrew for Batman, and the panels depict it, most intently.

One nice thing about Scott Snyder… he is consistent about tying up loose ends. Once we are in Castle Bat, we find out what happened to Barbatos, the Big Bad from Dark Nights: Metal. Not that we were actually wondering, since we got Perpetual, and the Batman Who Laughs, but, like I said, it ties up the package nicely.

Then, we are introduced to the character I have been most happily waiting for… the Robin King, and his Utility Belt of Death!

Gentle Readers, this is the story we have been waiting for, the chapter which tells us what the Heroes Plan of Action is, and where the story has been going, for over 40 years. You see, the opening page of this book tells us where this story began… with Marv Wolfman and George Perez, and Crisis on Infinite Earths!

Not to spoil too much, but Crisis, Infinite Crisis, and Final Crisis, ]well… they have all played a part in getting us to this story. It seems, the “Crisis Energy’ has fed Perpetua while she was trapped within the Source Wall, and, now, she wants it all, so she can recreate the Universes in her image.

Great job, if you can get it…

I can’t say enough good things about this story and artwork, as Snyder and Manapul have put together a really tight, hard hitting bottle / lead story, bringing us to the next step in the saga…

Jeebus on a popsicle stick, I hope no one lets me down… that will hurt!

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶.5

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Death Metal: Multiverse’s End #1

Writer: James Tynion IV Artist: Juan Gedeon

‘Mr. Rabbit?

Yes, Young Lady?

Thank you for saving me.

What a kind thing to say! It was so scary out there, and you stayed so brave. I don’t think I could have done it without your courage.

You’re really, really soft.

I use a special carrot shampoo.

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Once upon a time, about a million, bazillion years ago in cranky fat man years, somewhere around 1982, Roy Thomas and Scott Shaw! brought Earth-C into the DC Multiverse, the earth of anthropomorphic animals… yes, they brought Super-Hero Cartoon Animals to the Super Hero Universe.

Our introduction to this Earth was Rodney Rabbit, a comics writing and drawing hare, who created the Just’a Lotta Animals comic by day, and was Captain Carrot, a Superman-esque rabbit, who got his powers from super charged carrots, when danger struck.

But, I digress… because I got really excited!

So, we have teams on the 6 Earths, each Earth holding a tuning fork, focusing the psychic pain energy of the population to Perpetual, powering her attempts to recreate the Multiverse in her image. The Earths in play, Earth - 3 (Crime Syndicate), Earth - X (Nazi Earth), Earth - 29 (Bizarroworld), Earth - 43 (Blood League World) and Earth - 50 (Justice Lords Earth) are all worlds of pain and suffering.

Their energy is the right flavor for destroying, and creating.

The heroes, organized and led by the Green Lanterns of Sector 2814 (Hal Jordan, Guy Gardner, John Stewart, Kyle Rayner, Jessica Cruz, Simon Baz), are working to take down the Antennae before the energy can be fed to Perpetual to power her Cosmic Undoing.

So, teamed with the Lanterns, we have Hawkgirl, Kid Flash (Earth-22), President Superman (Earth-23), Wonder Woman (Earth-6) and Captain Carrot, all hellbent on stopping the respective Antennae.

The problem… Each Earth’s inhabitants have been laced into the antennae, to directly feed the psychic energy to it..since the energy is effectively terror, well, what better way to induce some? Of course, this isn’t the only problem to be contended with…

Leave it to James Tynion IV to come up with a way to make a villain creepier than the Batman Who Laughs… How, you ask? Well, take the true polar opposite of Batman, and make him realize HE IS what Giggles says he is, and you have an interesting new ballgame.

You see, while the Batman who Laughs is the Ultimate CORRUPTED Batman, Owlman is the Anthesis of Batman, the purest EVIL to the Batman’s GOOD. And he plans to make sure that he continues to be the True Opposite…

Gedeon’s artwork is rough, but considering the story being told, and the pain portrayed by the characters, it fits, perfectly. Some times, I see Joe Staton and Nic Cuti in these pages, a little cartoony, but that’s not a complaint… The story concentrates a bunch on Guy Gardner and Cap, so, it seems to fit (and the art is reminiscent of the ‘A Guy and his G’Nort’ storyline from 1991).

All in all, a very good story, and a fantastic use of a truly underused treasure.

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶

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Speed Metal #1

Writer: Joshua Williamson Pencils: Eddy Barrow Inks: Eber Ferreira

‘Hey, Flash Family, Is it true a Flash has to die in every Crisis?!’

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And the levels of snark from the Darkest Knight have reached Epic Levels!

The first three pages of this issue give us a rehash of everything having to do with Wally West, since the beginning of the Rebirth Era, from Barry pulling Wally out of the Speed Force, to Barry and Batman finding the Comedian’s Smiley Face button embedded in the Batcave wall, to the events of Heroes in Crisis and Flash Forward.

The action picks up as Barry, Wally, Wallace and Jay leave the Batman’s Vault, in search of Metron’s Chair, with the Darkest Knight hot on their trails.

In the Speed Force.

With the Darkest Knight’s presence corrupting the Speed Force, Barry and Wally bickering the entire time, I’m reminded of why I hated the post Crisis Flash… Wally wasn’t mature enough to wear the mantle of Barry’s fame.

Sure, he had the speed, he was even faster than Barry, but he was still the same jealous little kid inside, the one who needed to be patted on the head, the one who couldn’t get on with the Titans, even though he was probably the most powerful of them.

He was just an immature kid, and here, Williamson dragged that all into the foreground once again.

All so Wally West, the King of the Redemption Arc, could have another Redemption Arc…

Sorry, that did me in.

The rest of the story is pretty good… the art is wonderful, the Jay / Barry / Wallace interplay is really kinda neat, and all the Black Flashes… well, I’m a sucker for Death icons, so a mass of Death Speedsters, well that’s fun with a CAPITAL F!

But, did we need another Wally gets to whine story?

Sorry, this wasn’t the finest arc of the Death Metal Saga.

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶

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Death Metal #4 ‘Shot In The Dark’

Writer: Scott ‘Scream King’ Snyder Artist: Greg ‘The Muscle’ Capullo Inks: Jonathan ‘Bloodied’ Glapion

“So, ever wonder why you never see A Harley Who Laughs’?’

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And, that Gentle Readers, is the crux of one of those puzzles about this series… Why don’t we ever see more twisted versions of the Villains who infest Earth Prime?

The Robin King (this is the character who rates SECOND on my memorable Characters list, especially with his own One-Shot—— Who’s First?? Time, Gentle Ones in time…) puts the explanation out there, and it is very simple.

And worth the read… But, I digress.

So, Issue 4 picks up with Sergeant Rock describing what has been happening on Earth - Prime, and we finally get to see who has been carrying him around… AMBUSH BUG! Yes, the character that made the Fourth Wall more transparent than an open Anderson window has been carrying Rock around as his own personal narrator…

Which, if you know the Bug, is a joke unto itself.

So, here we go, the ride is picking up steam, and we are now following 6, count’em SIX, separate story lines. A guy could get whiplash, or Bullwhip or some other third rate character… But, I digress.

We have the Trinity storyline, the SpeedMetal storyline, Multiverse’s End, and the Lantern Storyline from the last issue, the Justice League / Legion of Doom story… am I forgetting anything?

Oh, and of course, the Robin King.

Where to start with this… I guess the simplest place to start is the artwork.

Greg Capullo’s pencils are absolutely wonderful. For anybody who it's to watch the process of drawing I want to watch so he's got a really wonderful touch I recommend Greg Capullo’s Instagram site. As he's drawing pages for these books, he posts the pencils as he finishes pieces of the process . Normally, he has six or seven photo panels showing exactly what he's been doing. In man cases, this involves crowd scenes, with extensive detail. His work is beautiful, it’s easy to see why he is such a sought after talent.

Jonathan Glapion’s inks on Capullo’s pencils are comparable to Austin on Byrne, and Janson over Miller, Janson over Colan… Enhancing, and not hiding the intricate detail rendered in the pencils, adding that last flash of lightning to bring it all together. The balance struck between them is almost organic, a constant growth between the two, bringing them to levels bordering on the true Classic Art teams of the last 50 years.

I do not make these comparisons lightly

Now, to the story. Scott Snyder is powering a roller coaster with a rocket sled. The coordination between the different aspects of these stories is both intricate and daring. With all the different aspects of this story spinning like plates on sticks, Snyder juggles the plot lines, and what is left to him by the myriad of writers as Emmet Kelly did in the heyday of Ringling Brothers.

His deft touch, and subtle influences are balanced by lace covered sledgehammer blows, leaving the reader reeling, and wanting so very much more.

Scott Snyder, much like Tom Taylor, has pulled out all the stops, cut the brake lines, kicked out the jams, insert favorite euphemism for creating a high speed, non-stop mad ride to Hell!

And, much to my wallet’s chagrin, I am very happy about it.

Now, as it crosses to other books, and other writers pick up the reins, I am sure Snyder will still be the whip hand driving the story, not allowing some of these writers to go too far astray (unless it’s Tom King… then, well Woo Hoooo!)

I can’t say enough good things about this story, or the team creating it. I’m beginning t feel a little biased, but, what the heck.

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶.5

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Death Metal: Robin King #1 ‘The Robin Who Would Be King’

Writer: Peter J. Tomasi Artist: Riley Rossmo

‘Aw! Come on, this is the fun part!

Get up and let’s FIGHT!’

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Games, within games, within games…

So, the Batman who Laughs wasn’t infallible.

And the Robin King is going to be the bigger threat to the Darkest Knight than any combination of the Trinity, Flashes or their cohorts.

At least, that’s my takeaway from this issue.

We continue the story of the Robin King, as started in the Tales of the Dark Universe one shot. Bruce has grown up, and grown into his sociopathy, and genius. He has used the family fortune to get all the training necessary, and to accumulate all the tools, to begin his reign as the true Evil Overlord of Gotham.

Utilizing his accumulated weapons, he has taken out Commissioner Gordon, Firestorm, Animal Man, Adam Strange Blue Beetle (Ted Kord), and the Red Tornado, all in truly spectacular and extraordinarily grisly fashion.

While the Black Hole Implosion for Firestorm was a particularly well thought out death, I think, so far, the ‘Mortal Coil’ Death, for the Red Tornado was the most imaginative… making his powers totally uncontrollable, while moving him closer to his ultimate dream, to be a real person, before his form totally destroys itself from the stresses of his own speed.

Marvelous! Fantastic! Gross!

Enter the Batman who Laughs, with the proposition to make the Robin King special, one of his own…

But, he’s a Robin, so, off to the Groblin Pit he goes!

Hence, his mistake, and possibly another chink in the boiler plate of his plans… since Bruce Wayne is NO Robin!

Peter Tomasi’s scripting for this issue is simply remarkable. The creep factor he brings to this iteration of Bruce Wayne is almost eviscerating. Reading this was painful to my eyes and psyche, feeling the levels of insanity drip off the page, and scratch across my mind like a little bird’s unnaturally sharp talons.

He really hit all the horror factors.

Then, there was the artwork for this story. Riley Rossmo’s artwork set the mood for this story. His shattered pencil / inks style, which can be distracting, was integral to telling this story. It allowed the Reader to view this story as if it were playing out in Bruce’s mind, its all the fracturing being how he is viewing the world.

For me, this story has been the highlight of the series… thus far. I am anticipating this, which is near the midpoint of things, is setting up the Wednesday Night Episode…so, -

Tune In, Gentle Readers!

Same Bat-Time

Same Bat Channel!

The Best Is Yet To Come!

Did I neglect there is a B-story, with Signal, Spoiler, Orphan and Red Robin taking on Quietus, the amalgam of Batman Ras’ al Ghul and Duke Thimas, from another Dark Universe, written by Tony Patrick and drawn by Daniel Sampere?

This story brings in a plot line for ‘What’s happening for the Other Bat-Family Elements’, as they try to find their way through Castle Bat’s myriad streets…

I am guessing we will start to see more of these stories.

I am completely fine with this, rather than having to recap things later…

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶.5

#dark nights: death metal #DC comics #Batman Who Laughs #Scott Snyder #Greg Capullo

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imagineyoungjustice · 6 years

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Terra and Rae’s 25 Days of Christmas Day 24

I'm not sure if you guys are cool with poly, stuff but could I request a supermartian/reader, Drabble, Maybe a JL christmas gala and a gift exchange? -Anonymous

Clearly set before the thing M’gann did to Conner that made him break it off with her. I didn’t have any specifics in mind when I wrote this so I’ll just say it was team year 1. Also I totally modeled the gift exchange after a Christmas party I had gone to before my semester ended lol. -Terra

I guess you guys get two fics after all I got really carried away and this ended up being 4392 words long ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Merry Christmas Eve lol

You fidgeted with your outfit for probably the hundredth time since putting it on, looking at your reflection in the mirror in your room at the mountain. The Justice League was holding their annual Christmas party up in the Watchtower, and they decided to invite the team as well to celebrate all your hard work this year. You were excited to finally get to go, not counting the time Vandal Savage had taken control over the League. You were also however, nervous as hell. The entire Justice League would be in attendance. It’s not that you were afraid of them, but more like they all carried an intimidating presence that you still haven’t been able to get over. Looking over yourself one last time, you finally moved away from the mirror, walking over to your bed where the gift you were supposed to bring was waiting. As well as having their regular Christmas party, the League also decided to have a ‘white elephant’ gift exchange. Although it wasn’t the traditional version. Instead of just wrapping your equivalent of a ‘white elephant’ everyone was expected to buy something that didn’t go under a certain dollar amount. It wasn’t much of an issue for you, and you bought ended up buying some candles to be on the safe side. You would have gone for a gag gift, but you didn’t have the confidence for that sort of thing in front of the League. Maybe you would someday but it certainly wasn’t tonight.

A knock on your door followed by the sound of someone calling your name drew you from your thoughts. Walking over to the metal door, you let it slide open, revealing both Conner and M’gann on the other side. Both of their mouths dropped open when they saw you, and you couldn’t hide the blush that rose to your cheeks. M’gann was the first to break the silence. “You look amazing! I knew that would look good on you!” She reached for your hand, and you let yourself be pulled in for a quick kiss, Conner breaking out of his own trance and doing the same once M’gann pulled away.

“You look absolutely stunning.” Conner whispered, his lips still close enough to brush against yours as he spoke. It did nothing to help the burning in your cheeks. He pulled back with a smirk as he took in the bright redness of your cheeks. The two of them as always looked stunning in their outfits for the night. M’gann was wearing a simple red dress, having joked earlier that coupled with her skin it would mean she was wearing all Christmas colors. Conner was in a black pair of dress pants and a simple red button-up with a small pin of holly leaves and berries in the top corner of the shirt. It wasn’t an extravagant and fancy party that the League was holding, but it was expected of everyone to wear nicer clothes.

“You two look just as amazing.” You remarked, taking a moment to appreciate how well the outfits complimented them. You smiled as you realized that all of your outfits complimented each other as well, no doubt M’gann’s doing. “We should probably get going before we’re late.” You said, pulling your gaze away from how amazing your boyfriend and girlfriend looked to the digital clock next to your bed. You quickly grabbed your gift and followed the two of them to the zeta tubes where Wolf was waiting. “Is he allowed to come too?”

“They never said he couldn’t.” Conner replied. You laughed, and gave Wolf a scratch behind the ears, noting the red bowtie around his neck. Soon enough, the zeta tubes flared to life and announced your arrival as you appeared at the Watchtower. It didn’t take long to make your way to where they were holding the party, all the four of you had to do was follow the decorations and the sound of music that was being played. You saw M’gann’s eyes light up one you all rounded the corner. If you were being honest, it took your breath away as well.

The room was decorated beautifully. Colored lights hung all around the walls and across the space in between. There were decorations all along the walls and on the tables. The buffet table was off to one side while several smaller tables were scattered around two of the other walls. A huge tree sat in the corner, a decently sized pile of presents already gathered beneath. The three of you went to walk into the room but immediately a certain speedster suddenly appeared in front of you, a smirk on his face.

“I think the three of you might want to turn your gazes upwards before I let you in.” You did as he said, and rolled your eyes when you saw the cliché mistletoe hanging proudly from the top of the doorway, the colored lights glittering off the white berries. You looked down to Conner and M’gann and just shrugged, before leaning in and kissing the two of them quickly, walking into the room. The two of them just looked at each other and did the same, and soon the three of you were looking at a dejected Wally. “That’s it? Just a quick peck on the lips? Where’s your sense of Christmas spirit!”

“Back at the mountain where there’s a little more privacy and I’m not being gawked at by the entire League.” You replied smoothly.

“That’s fair. They can be pretty intimidating even when they’re not all in their costumes. C’mon you’re supposed to put your presents over here under the tree.” He quickly took a light hold of your wrist and led you through the room to the tree. It actually looked a lot bigger up close. You took a moment to admire it before setting your bag down next to the others, M’gann and Conner doing the same with the gifts they had been carrying. “I’d love to stay and chat right now, but that buffet table is calling my name.”

“I think not young man.” Black Canary’s voice came from behind you, the suddenness of it causing you to almost jump. “No one’s allowed to touch it yet until everyone is here.”

Wally gave an exaggerated sigh. “But Dinahhhhh, I thought everyone was already here. I’ll die of starvation if I don’t get to eat soon.”

“You’ll manage. Barry was asking for you by the way, you can distract yourself from your all-consuming hunger with that for now.” You gigged at the defeated look on Wally’s face as Dinah finished speaking, and Wally raced off to go find his uncle.

“Who still has left to show up?” You asked, moving off to the side so you could talk to Dinah but not be in the way of anyone else trying to put their presents underneath the tree.

“The only ones left who haven’t shown up are Zatanna, Raquel and Red Tornado. Otherwise everyone else is here and accounted for.” You made small talk with Dinah for a while. Both Conner and M’gann eventually split form you to go mingle with a light squeeze of your hand. It wasn’t long before the missing three guests arrived, and the party began in full. You sat at a table with both Conner and M’gann as well as Zatanna and Raquel to eat. Wolf sat at your feet and you and Conner would both take turns feeding him table scraps when no one was looking. Batman just gave Conner the look™ when he caught sight of Wolf initially. Of course, you had to stifle your laughter as Conner reiterated his point that he never said Wolf couldn’t come. Wolf for his part, did his best to look as adorable as he could in that moment. Batman had to eventually concede, and you just knew he was going to make it a point to choose his words more carefully next time.

You spent quite a bit of the night talking with Zatanna and Raquel, both of your significant others joining you as you did your best to at least greet everyone in the room. Your mingling was only broken by the occasional snack run, having to dodge around both speedsters as they seemed intent on finishing off everything on the table, and Conner and M’gann pulling you away every now and again for a dance. You were still nervous about being in the presence of the entire Justice League, but being around Conner and M’gann was helping quite a bit as they kept reassuring you, and even thought the nerves were still there they were a lot quieter than they had been when you first arrived, allowing you to enjoy the night even more. It was also nice to see the league out of costume for the most part. They all seemed a lot more relaxed and carefree, even Batman.

Eventually, everyone was urged to go back to their seats, as they were about to start the white elephant exchange. To make things go smoother, everyone was to draw a number, and that would be the order that they would go. The first person to go up would pick a gift and open, every person after that would have the option to either steal a gift that has been opened or pick one from under the tree. If you had been stolen from, you had the option to steal again or pick a gift from the tree. Each gift was only allowed to be stolen twice, with the person who stole it a second time getting to keep the gift. It seemed simple enough to you, and soon enough, Oliver was going around with a small box of folded papers with numbers on them to each of the tables. You reached your hand in when he got to your table and looked at the slip of paper in your hand. The number sixteen was scrawled on it in pen. You were okay with the number you had gotten. You were relatively in the middle so there would be a nice amount of choices for you to steal from if you had decided to do so.

“What number did you guys get?” You asked, showing everyone your slip of paper.

“I got one.” M’gann said turning her paper around.

“I got twenty-four.” Conner said.

“I got ten.” Zatanna put her paper on the table in front of her and looked over to Raquel.

“Mine is thirty. I think I’m last?”

“Not quite but pretty close to it. I think there’s thirty-three of us.” You replied, doing a quick count of the room. “It’s not a bad number to have if you don’t want to pick something you want getting stolen.”

“That’s true. I hope I get something good. Last party I went to that did one of these I got four DVD copies of the Bee Movie.”

You and Zatanna laughed. “That sounds like a treasure to me.” You joked.

“Well then you’ll be glad to know they’re in one of the bags under the tree.” Raquel’s grin was a mile wide and you leaned forward on the table.

“I sincerely hope Batman is the one that opens that.” You whispered. Everyone at the broke out in laughter at that.

“I can make that happen.” Zatanna giggled. “Someone please tell me to make sure it happens.”

“Do it please. You’ll make everyone’s Christmas if you do.” Raquel said, elbowing Zatanna.

“Okay I’ll be right back. I don’t want to say the spell in here and get found out so I’m going to do it from the bathroom.” She got up and made sure to excuse herself. “If I’m not back in time for my number one of you guys can go up for me. Just don’t pick anything stupid remember what I’m doing for you guys.”

“Don’t worry we’ll get you something good. Now go we don’t know what number he has.” You quickly urged her on and she quickly left the room as inconspicuously as she could. Shortly after Zatanna left, Dinah was ready to call out the numbers. M’gann walked up to the tree as her number was called, handing it to Dinah as she passed her. She took a moment to decide, purposefully ignoring the ones you and Conner had brought, as it wouldn’t be as fun and chose a decently sized red bag towards the middle of the pile. She pulled out the tissue paper and reached into the bag, pulling out a green hand-knit scarf and a store bought floral pattern scarf.

She skipped happily back to her seat turning over both times in her hands. “These are actually really cute, I hope no one takes them.”

“I can already tell they would look adorable on you. If they’re stolen before I go, I’ll get them back for you.” You promise from your seat.

“Same here.” Conner added.

“You three are just so cute together. I hope I get that lucky when I find someone.” Raquel sighed, watching the three of you interact with a fond smile. You blushed and watched as the next few numbers were called. The gifts were nothing too special. One member got a hat, and another got a set of mittens and then the next few unwrapped different ornaments. Zatanna walked back into the room as the ninth person was called, a smirk on her face.

“Just in the nick of time.” You said, “You’re next up.” You dropped your voice and made sure to lean forward. “Does this mean the bee has left the hive?”

She snorted and nodded. “Yes, I said the spell. Everything should go according to plan. I ran into Doctor Fate on my way back here though. He heard me say the spell I only just barely convinced him not to say anything to anyone about it and to let it happen.”

“Thank god this is going to be fantastic. I can’t wait.” Raquel remarked, leaning back in her chair.

Zatanna’s number was called shortly after, and she made her way over to the tree picking out a bag at random. Her face however, fell as she looked inside. “You have to be kidding me.” You were curious, but thankfully she didn’t leave everyone guessing long. She pulled out a binder and some notebook paper and the room erupted into laughter, your tables’ being the loudest. She made her way back to your table with a scowl and threw the items onto the red tablecloth. “This is what I get for everything I’ve done?”

“I bet that was Wally.” You laughed.

“No, it was Dick I was there when he bought it. I wasn’t there when he wrapped it and we arrived at different times, so I didn’t see the bag it was in. This is bullshit he better take this from me.” Zatanna crossed her arms across her chest and gave a huff.

“Just think of the bees.” You joked. “I’m sorry but this is really funny.” You saw Conner shift from the corner of your eye. He put one of his arms around M’gann and shortly after you felt his other hand intertwine with yours under the table.

After that, suddenly more and more gag gifts were being opened. Oliver opened a DVD copy of Santa Buddies another leaguer opened up a gift and got a roll of toilet paper with G. Gordon Godfrey’s face printed on every sheet. Dick was called and took Zatanna’s gift from her with a half-assed apology. Zatanna gave him a quick peck on the cheek and waked back over to the tree, picking another bag and you could see the disbelief as she reached in and pulled out a fucking yellow backpack. The entire room erupted into loud laughter, and you could see Dick and Wally high five each other from across the table they were at, tears of laughter streaming down their faces. You and Raquel were doubled over in laughter, faces red from how hard you two were laughing. Zatanna drop kicked the backpack over to your table and sat down with a pout. “Of course they fucking coordinated their gifts. And of all the odds I had to get both of them I hate this I want to go home.” She seemed angry on the inside, but you could tell that she too thought it was hilarious. That she was only acting pissed for the laughs.

After a few more people went, one person opening up an old Tamagotchi, and the next person immediately stealing it, it was your turn. You paused after handing your number to Dinah, looking back and forth between the tree and Artemis. You really wanted that Tamagotchi, having had one in your childhood. On the other hand, you knew that Artemis had wanted it too, and you didn’t want to take it from her. But you also really wanted it. And you knew that if you stole it now it would be yours and no one could take it from you.

‘Just do it. She knows it can be taken from her still. Besides she won’t really be mad.’ M’gann’s voice sounded in your head, using the mental link she usually had between the three of you. You bit your lower lip, and then gave in. You reached the table with Artemis, Wally, Dick, and Barry and gently took the packaged device with her, muttering a small “sorry” as you did so.

Artemis just sighed, and went to stand up. “I knew this would happen.” You just shrugged and went back to your seat, curling up into Conner’s side as you began trying to open the packaging. You didn’t really pay attention to the next few people to go up, putting most of your attention into reliving a part of your childhood. From the reaction of the people around you, it didn’t appear like any more gag gifts had been opened.

After a short amount of time, Conner’s number was called, and he was forced to disentangle himself form both you and M’gann. As he got up, M’gann moved over one seat, taking Conner’s spot and the two of you cuddled into one another. Conner ended up with a few candles, but not from the bag you had brought. He just shrugged and made his way back over to your table, chuckling a little as he saw M’gann only snuggle into you more when she saw him looking at her in his chair. He ended up in M’gann’s old chair, holding her free hand.

You were still lost in your little world when you were suddenly elbowed very hard several times in the side. You looked over to M’gann and were about to ask her what she wanted but you followed her gaze and felt your breath catch when you saw Batman walking over to Dinah, handing her his number. The excited anticipation was coursing heavily around your small group ad you all watched him walk over to the tree. You felt a wide grin begin to form when you heard Raquel give a quiet “yes!” as he grabbed a small purple bag from near the front of the remaining gifts. Almost in slow motion, you watched him pull the tissue paper out of the bag and reach in. You would never ever forget the look of utter bewilderment on the Batman’s face as he pulled out four, brand new, never been opened, copies of Bee Movie. The room went up in a riot, everyone was crying tears from laughing and it was every bit as amazing as you knew it would be. Dick’s laughter was one of the loudest in the room, rivaled only by the laughter bounding off from your table. You could hardly breathe from laughing so hard, and through a quick wet, blurry, glance, you could see that Raquel and Zatanna were hardly any better off.

It was a long time before the room was settled enough to continue, and you had to try not to break out into more laughter when you saw him try and pass the copies over to Dick, who only pushed them back over to him with a shit eating grin. Superman was next, and he opened up a copy of Mean Girls. Zatanna smirked and mentioned it was her gift. The rest of the gifts were more or less gag gifts. Raquel ended up getting a copy of Freaky Friday. All of you were laughing but she said she “wasn’t mad” and that it was “a great movie”, she was laughing the whole time though. The DVD ended up getting stolen from her and she actually ended up with your gift. The stealing went on for a while, but eventually it came to an end.

The three of you stayed for another hour, but eventually you bid your farewells to the team and League and made your way back to the Mountain. It was almost midnight, and the three of you had decided beforehand that you wanted to start off Christmas with just the three of you. Walking back into your room, you were quick to get changed into your sleepwear, letting Conner in when you heard him knock. You walked over to your closet and pulled out the two presents you had for Conner and M’gann, who had just walked into the room as you finished grabbing the small boxes. Before anything could be said, the clock next to your bed went off, announcing that it had turned midnight. Conner was quick to pull you into a kiss, doing the same to M’gann.

“Merry Christmas.” His voice was low, but easily heard in the silence of the room.

“Merry Christmas.” You answered, turning and grabbing your gifts from you edge of your bed. You handed M’gann’s to her first. It had become tradition to open your gifts from each other right away of Christmas Day, knowing that even on a day such as this you three could be pulled away on a mission.

M’gann took care to remove the wrapping, she never liked ripping it open even though you said she was supposed to. She opened the small box and her eyes lit up immediately, a small gasp leaving her. She pulled the item out and the light made it shimmer. You had gone to J’onn for help with this gift. It was a gold bracelet with all three of your birth stones in the middle. Then, surrounding the rest of the metal around your Earth birthstones, were special stones from Mars. You knew how much M’gann liked to try and bring your two worlds closer together, and you knew this would mean a lot to her. She was quick to wrap you in a hug, kissing you in order to convey how much it meant to her since words had seemed to fail her. She gave a whispered ‘thank you’ and you just smiled lovingly at her.

Conner’s was next. “This one is actually from the both of us.” You said, looking over to M’gann.

He opened the box, and turned the tickets over in his hands, excitement showing on his face.

“We pulled together our money to get tickets to that show that’s coming through town next month since we know how much you want to go.” M’gann said, kissing his cheek. You knew that Conner appreciated going on dates and spending time with the two of you more as a gift than he would something you had bought him, not that he wouldn’t appreciate any other gift you had given him, it was just the kind of person he was. The two of you snuggled into his sides, and M’gann handed you your gift from her.

You wasted no time in peeling off the wrapping turning the small object in your hands. “It’s something I had gotten from Mars.” M’gann began to explain. “It’s common for Martians to gift this to one another. It’s a device that lets you store up to ten memories on it at a time, then if you want to view them it’ll play them back in a projection. You need telepathy to store them, so I’ll have to help you with that, otherwise you just have to press those buttons along the bottom.”

You were lost for words. You already had ideas about dates and other events the three of you shared that you would like to store within it, but you could do that later. You turned to your girlfriend, and settled for thanking her in the same manor that she had thanked you. “This is amazing M’gann. I’ll make sure to treasure it.”

Now it was Conner’s turn. He reached into his back pocket, and pulled out a small envelope. “My gift is also for the two of you.” M’gann took a hold of the envelope and squealed when she pulled out the different sets of tickets and papers.

You took a glance and saw that there was some for the movie the two of you had been wanting to see as well as a reservation for the new restaurant the three of you had been talking about wanting to go visit. There was also two more sets of tickets for some smaller locations that you guys had wanted to go to and you both leaned up and kissed a check, causing an adorable blush to spread across his face.

“These are amazing Conner thank you. But you didn’t have to do so much for us.” You said, resting your head against his shoulder.

“I wanted to.” He replied, a small smile on his lips.

“I love you.” You said it suddenly, and you even though you said it while looking at Conner, it was clear that the statement was to both Conner and M’gann.

“I love you too.” It was said simultaneously by Conner and M’gann and you felt a warmth blossom in your chest. The three of you moved onto your bed, setting your gifts off to the side and cuddling up under the covers. You put a movie on, as the three of you weren’t tired yet, and you let yourself get lost in the movie, surrounded by the two people you loved the most in the world.

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heavyarethecrowns · 6 years

Link

It was breathlessly reported this month by British newspapers that Meghan Markle, Prince Harry’s American TV-star girlfriend, had been introduced to Queen Elizabeth II.

The teatime meeting — said to be over finger sandwiches and scones at Buckingham Palace — with her love’s granny was the most significant indicator yet that the 36-year-old “Suits” actress will soon step into her biggest role ever: joining the cast of one of the world’s most celebrated families.

Markle, who was photographed on Sept. 25 holding hands with Harry at the Invictus Games in Canada during their first public outing, is said to have given up her Audi lease in Toronto, where “Suits” films. And her work contract ends in late November.

It seems to be a case of when, not if, an engagement is announced.

Rumors are swirling around London that the 33-year-old prince has already proposed to his squeeze of 15 months after getting permission from his indomitable grandmother.

It’s an understatement to say that free-spirited Markle is about to experience a dramatic lifestyle change. As Ingrid Seward, editor-in-chief of “Majesty Magazine,” told The Post: “It’s going to be a minefield.”

Sources reveal that as the Los Angeles-raised actress prepares for a very public engagement and wedding, she is also being schooled in the ways of the Firm — the royals’ affectionate nickname for themselves. There’s no special “school” where Markle will learn how to curtsy, hob-knob with foreign dignitaries or emerge from a car without flashing her underwear.

British writer Katie Nicholl told The Post that Prince Harry has been Markle’s main mentor in all things royal.

“He knows how daunting this will be for Meghan and he’s keen for her to be relaxed in the company of senior royals,” she said.

Before the auspicious meeting at so-called “BP,” he would have told his girlfriend how to address the 91-year-old queen, strongly suggesting that she curtsy, even though that’s an optional move these days.

“Harry will have made sure Meghan knew how to address the queen and how to behave in her presence,” says Nicholl, who has written a forthcoming biography of Harry. “He calls her ‘Granny,’ but after Meghan had curtsied and called her ‘Your Majesty,’ she would have reverted to ‘ma’am.’ It seems strange to mere mortals, but it is how [Princess] Kate addresses her.”

The American divorcée will be encouraged to be herself — with one giant caveat.

“She will always have to remember, in public at least, that she is royalty and certain behaviors are expected,” said Seward, whose latest book, “My Husband and I”— chronicling the marriage of the queen and the Duke of Edinburgh — is soon to be published.

“It’s going to be difficult for her because she is an independent career woman who [won’t] really like being told what to do.”

Markle’s position is unprecedented, although there are echoes of the scandalous love affair between divorced US socialite Wallis Simpson and King Edward VIII that led to the king’s abdication in 1936.

“We’ve never had an American divorcée marry someone who is in line to the throne,” said Seward. Harry is currently fifth in position, behind his father, Prince Charles, brother, Prince William, nephew George and niece Charlotte. He will be shunted to sixth place after the birth of William and Kate’s third child next April.

“American manners are different than British manners,” Seward added. “[She] can’t walk down the street eating or chewing gum.” Markle will even have to correct her table manners. “We hold our cutlery differently. It’s a whole different culture.”

Markle did well in her new role in a September Vanity Fair cover-story interview, sanctioned by Harry, when she revealed: “We’re two people who are really happy and in love.”

Still, the corridors of Kensington Palace (where Harry lives in an apartment near William and Kate) are a long way from the San Fernando Valley, where Markle was raised by her yoga-teacher mother, Doria, who is black, and lighting-director father, Thomas, who is white.

When she launched an affordable clothing line in 2016, she told the Toronto Star: “I was not a girl who grew up buying $100 candles. I was the girl who ran out of gas on her way to an audition.”

She first attended the private Hollywood Little Red Schoolhouse and then an all-girls’ Catholic school, Immaculate Heart High. Markle studied theater and international relations at Northwestern University, just outside Chicago, where a fellow alumnus remembered her as being “very sophisticated for a college student.

“We were in our early 20s but she seemed like someone 10 years older. She had the poise and grace it takes to being a royal.”

By the time she graduated from college in 2003, Markle had already made her screen debut in “General Hospital,” which led to roles on TV shows such as “90210,” “Knight Rider,” “CSI:NY” and, ultimately, “Suits.”

Charles Rae, former royal correspondent for Britain’s Sun and author of the book “Diana: The People’s Princess,” believes the starlet’s professional skills will come in handy when she signs up with the Firm.

“She’s a natural performer and will chat with people with ease,” he said. “Besides, everyone will be intrigued by her accent.”

It’s not as if Markle lacks experience in public speaking. A global ambassador for World Vision, she traveled with the humanitarian organization to Rwanda for its clean water campaign. Her résumé also includes working for United Nations Women as part of the HeForShe gender-equality movement. All of this earns her extra points with the royal family, as she would be expected to perform charity work and have pet causes as a princess.

Rae, who described the possibility of Markle marrying Harry as “the best thing to happen to the monarchy in years,” revealed that the brunette has been “studying hard” to fit into the lifestyle.

“She has practically been living at Kensington Palace whenever she is in London and will have seen the routine that goes on with the butlers and servants,” he told The Post.

As of late, Markle has been zipping around London in a new Volkswagen — sometimes, but not always, with a driver. According to the Daily Mail, this is significant because the royal family has a deal with VW in which they get a 60-percent lease discount; Princess Kate had a similar deal, leasing an Audi (owned by VW) before marrying William.

It will likely only be after an engagement is announced that Markle will receive formal briefings on her public appearances. A personal assistant will also be hired.

As Seward points out, advance information on how to dress correctly could have helped Markle ahead of the Invictus Games, where she famously wore ripped jeans.

Meanwhile, the royal protection squad, an elite team of police officers, will be on hand to advise her on dealing with the traditional “walkabouts” so loved by the British public.

“She will learn how to cope if someone [in a crowd] comes on too strong,” said Rae. “Ever since John Lennon was shot, the royals have been told never to rebuff anyone. Members of the family, including the queen, have had assassination attempts against them in the past, and no chances will be taken with Meghan.”

As with Grace Kelly, when she became the princess of Monaco, Markle’s “acting career will, of course, be a thing of the past,” Rae said.

Robert Lacey, historical consultant for the hit Netflix series “The Crown,” told The Post that Markle will not be expected to take British citizenship — mainly because of Harry’s low place in line to the throne.

“Her position as the wife of Prince Charles’s second son would not warrant it,” said the author of the upcoming book “The Crown: The Official Companion.”

The Greek-born Duke of Edinburgh [Prince Philip], now 96, became a British citizen in March 1947, eight months before his wedding to the then-Princess Elizabeth.

“Times have changed and the heat is off Meghan,” added Lacey. “She is a new recruit but, apart from being assigned a lady-in-waiting, it would be demeaning for her to get too much advice from courtiers.

“The best person to give Meghan advice would be her fellow divorcée, Camilla [the Duchess of Cornwall and Harry’s stepmother]. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had taken Meghan aside for a strong gin and tonic and some helpful tips on joining the royal family,” Lacey said. “She’s a very funny woman who’s had it all thrown at her but survived.”

Rae said the royals have learned lessons from the ill-fated introductions of both Princess Diana and Sarah, the Duchess of York, to the royal family in the 1980s. “Kate Middleton’s entry into the world went relatively smoothly in comparison.”

Last week, the Daily Mail reported that, when Middleton joined the royal family, an agreement was drawn up among Kate, her parents and Prince William to protect her from undue stress during the first five years of marriage. “Prince Harry is said to be considering a similar agreement to shield [Markle] from palace courtiers who like to keep their charges busy,” said the newspaper.

Speculation is now rife that Markle will appear on the balcony with Kate, Camilla and the queen as princes Charles, William and Harry place wreaths on London’s Cenotaph memorial on Remembrance Sunday, the British equivalent of Veteran’s Day, on Nov. 12.

“Meghan will no doubt follow royal protocol to the letter and wear a nice black coat and hat,” said Lacey, adding that her presence will be another indicator of an impending engagement.

And Christmas is approaching. If Markle is invited to Sandringham, the Norfolk estate where the queen and her family spend the holidays, she might as well be walking down the aisle at Westminster Abbey.

“I just hope she enjoys pheasant shooting,” said Rae. “When the birds drop and they’re not yet dead, Meghan will be expected to join the other royal ladies in wringing their necks.”

“[She] can’t walk down the street eating or chewing gum.”

by: Ingrid Seward

Does Ingrid Seward love to insult people? Is that her favorite past-time? She really needs to let it go, the monarchy has to evolve, modernise, if they are to continue well into the 21st century.

However, I honestly believe that Prince Charles will be the last monarch.

SUBMITTED

I can’t be bothered to read this.

But from the mild skimming, I don’t believe that meeting took place

Of course Harry will help her when need be, that is what the born royal does for his partner - married yet or not.

#meghan markle #prince harry #link #article #submission

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sicklylittlesnowflake · 7 years

Note

you know when the sweetwater river frozeover? well that probably happens every year in riverdale so what about some jarchie friendship right before anything bad happened so they were best friends but not like really young and they were mucking about on the frozen river and archie is jumping around and jughead goes on a patch of ice that archie jumped on and falls through? he can't get out so archie has to pull him out then they go back home and and fred fusses and jughead gets sick?

( this takes place the winter before the Summer of Doom™ also I’m sorry if you didn’t want this much angst but I can’t help myself lmao.. Also tw brief drowning!! Also trust me to write a Christmas fic during the summer lmao)

Every winter in Riverdale had been the same every year. The Blossoms would come out with their special Winter Edition Maple Syrup Ham, the bright Christmas lights would go up, Riverdale Elementary would start singing their carols, and the Sweetwater river would freeze up and turn to ice.

Riverdale was very much a town built on tradition and nothing was ever really questioned. No one ever questioned the extreme closeness of the Blossom Twins, nor the very much unjustness of the treatment of the south side. No one ever really questioned how despite extreme statistical improbability, Jughead Jones and Archie Andrews became best friends.

If Archie Andrews was fire, Jughead Jones was ice. Archie Andrews hailed from a family the closest equivalent to the American Dream and Jughead Jones was from the wrong side of the tracks. They were different on a molecular level, built from different clay and different stardust. However there was something about childhood friendship so pure and delightful that somehow made this friendship work, not questioned.

The two best friends’ tradition of skating at the frozen Sweetwater river would also never be questioned. They had done it every year; since they could walk. Eventually they were able to do it by themselves by the age of 11. The tradition was so sacred, such a necessity that if it weren’t to be upheld, it would be as absurd as not putting up a Christmas tree.

Jughead glided across the ice with grace, smooth and with ease, going around in circles as he admired the frosty pastel blue sky, arms spread out, like he was soaring, free. Archie followed suit, with a lot less ease and grace, his gliding a lot more rough and rugged.

“Woah,” Archie made a worried face, trying his best to keep himself balanced and when he finally did, he accidentally skated too fast, way too fast. He was practically zooming across the lake like the Flash.

“Oh shit!” Archie gasped as he continued to zoom past, nearing Jughead, bracing himself for the collision. He bumped into Jughead’s back, causing the two to collapse onto the ice into a laughing heap.

“Nice going, Barry Allen,” Jughead joked, still trying to contain his giggles as he punched Archie’s arm.

“More of a Wally West myself,” Archie joked back, unable to stop himself from laughing heartily. Archie managed to recover from the collision first and stood up, extending an arm out to Jughead as the younger boy reached out for his hand and grasped it tight as he lifted himself off the ground.

“You know Archie, your prima ballerina skills never cease to stupefy me. It truly is quite an enthralling spectacle,” Jughead chuckled, patting his friend on the back.

Archie simply stuck a tongue out at his best friend and continued to prance around like an idiot, mock pliéing and spinning and twirling. Of course, he wasn’t quite the professional type, certainly no Tonya Harding, and his lands as he pranced not quite light and fairylike, more like Godzilla or King Kong stomping about.

“You’re going to fall in, Archibald,” Jughead warned, voice still light and carefree, very aware of his best friend’s clumsy tendencies. He sniffled, much to the attention of Archie who’s eyes were discreetly locked on him, hoping his friend wouldn’t catch a cold.

Jughead breathed out so he could see his frosted breath, shivering lightly as he pulled his red and black denim jacket closer to him, trying to warm himself, “Brr, this is one of the coldest winters we’ve had in years. Not great when i’m always so cold.”

“Even in the summer months! Just goes along with your cold heart and soul,” Archie teased, making himself and his best friend erupt into a fit of laughter once again.

They were like that for a while. Laughing, warm despite the cold because of each other’s company. It had always been like that. Archie wished it could be like this forever; a pure childhood friendship that became lifelong, forever each other’s go to’s in this American Dream of a town.

Archie watched as Jughead laughed his heart out, the joy and brightness he wore in those moments suiting him so well. A welcome change against the darkness he tried to hide but never from Archie. Jughead knew this, and knew that Archie would always make him feel safe and warm. So cozy and safe, like a bowl of chocolate ice cream but with a secret hot fudge centre.

Then as Jughead stepped back, the ice broke, swallowing him whole, the picture perfect painting of brightness and warmth torn off the wall viciously. Black paint aggressively splattered across what was once beautiful.

Archie felt a ringing in his ears as his best friend went under, the whole world turning dark and he could practically hear his heart beating in his chest. It was then when he regained a little bit of his senses that he realised the ringing was his scream.

As Jughead went under, a pang of sharp, iciness crawled up his spine, spreading throughout his body. The freezing water biting at his body, piercing through his hands. He struggled against the ruthless current, trying not to scream as his his lungs begged for oxygen, body pleading for warmth. He felt numb, desperately clawing and reaching for the light, back to his best friend. He wasn’t ready, not yet, he fought for his life, extending an arm hoping it would be found.

Then miraculously a hand shot through the light and towards his hand, grabbing at it tightly, intertwining his fingers and determined to pull him back into the light. Soon enough Jughead’s body lifted from the bitterly cold waters and back into the land, where he gasped for air, coughing violently.

Archie let out the breath he had been holding, hands shaking violently as his best friend coughed up icy water, desperately trying to revitalise himself with oxygen. Jughead sniffled wetly, continuing to cough powerfully, and once he finished he was a shaking mess, shivering vigorously with the icy cold water.

Archie picked the weakened, shivering body and threw him over his shoulder into a tight hug, his hands shaking as he ran fingers through Jughead’s hair, as if trying to reassure himself he was alive, and that he was here. He whispered shakily, “T-thought I lost you, J-jug..”

Jughead continued to quiver under his grasp violently, teeth chattering and breath shaky, his body feeling numb by the biting cold. He felt so cold, clinging on to Archie fiercely as he desperately tried to obtain his warmth. He felt so horrible and miserable from this horrible frozen and icy limbo, but one look at his friend’s horrified and near tears face, and his shaking grasp from the shock, he chose to joke to calm his friend down.

“Y-you w-weren’t g-getting rid o-of m-me th-that ea-easy, m-man,” Jughead smirked, teeth chattering as he quivered beneath his grasp, inhaling sharply and sneezing to the side.

Archie felt a little better at that, knowing Jughead was still definitely here with him and was still the same old Jughead. He hadn’t disappeared from him, hadn’t slipped out of his grasp. However, his sneeze was a sure sign they had to get out of here.

Archie pulled away from their hug, taking Jughead’s jacket off and replacing it with his own, Jughead began to protest incoherently, only for Archie to shush him. He helped Jughead to his feet, who’s legs could barely support his body so Archie had to wrap an arm around his waist firmly to ensure that he could walk.

Jughead coughed weakly opposite to Archie, sniffling as his nose began to run. He would normally be a lot more neat and careful to not be a gross mess in times like these, having experience in having both bad allergies and a bad immune system, but he honestly felt too awful.

He hadn’t even realised Archie was dragging them away when they were off the frozen river, he sniffled, “A-arch, I don’t want to ruin this..”

“Well it’s already ruined,” Archie snapped, not intending to seem so harsh. Jughead’s face fell and he bit his lip, looking away as his grasp on Archie loosened ever so slightly, still shivering and shaking like he was on the epicentre of an earthquake.

Archie tensed, realising how awful he had been just then. This felt so wrong–their relationship being other than just pure childhood friendship. Of course, there was moments of darkness, where the reality of their lives would crack in through this safe wall they had built together, but they had always stayed safe with each other inside these walls they had made, away from the madness. Pretending like it didn’t exist. Avoiding the truth of their reality.

“Jug, I-I’m sorry, that was..that was really uncalled for and horrible. I-I’m not angry at you,” Archie explained awkwardly.

“Wh-who are y-you an-angry at then?” Jughead asked, although it sounded more like a statement than a question.

Archie sighed deeply, “Me. I..i was the one jumping around on the lake and probably weakened the ice and then..I-I’m so sorry, Jug.”

Jughead softened, opening his mouth to speak when his nose began to tickle. He inhaled sharply, raising a hand to his nose and turning his head to the side to sneeze harshly twice. He cleared his throat, his bones beginning to feel weak and unable to carry on. His eyes were heavy–he just wanted to rest by some place warm.

“I-its o-okay, A-Archie. P-please don’t b-blame y-yourself, you d-didn’t know,” Jughead tried, although he knew deep down Archie wouldn’t listen to him.

His friend couldn’t hide the guilt on his face–he wore his heart on his sleeve, and Jughead found it very endearing–and couldn’t formulate a response. It could’ve gone two ways but either way both of them wouldn’t be happy with the answer.

As the two boys finally made it to the road, they could hear the faint sound of a car nearing. As it neared, they recognised it as Fred’s old truck.

“You could hear that old thing from a mile off,” Archie said, stifling his laughter.

“God no, you could hear it all the way from Greendale I’m sure,” Jughead giggled, for a second forgetting about how miserable he felt. It was just simply the Archie Andrews magic that managed to make him feel warm and safe even at his darkest.

Fred Andrews drove his truck casually, until his heart skipped a beat as his eyes scanned left and saw the sight of two boys. Two boys who meant the world to him–and one was soaking wet, trembling violently, pale as a ghost with flushed red cheeks and nose that popped out amongst the frosty white surroundings. Jughead looked extremely sick, looking like he was about to collapse.

“Holy shit,” Fred muttered as he pulled over and yanked his car door open and rushed towards the two boys.

“What the hell happened here?!” Fred exclaimed, examining Jughead’s sickly pale features and cupping a hand around his face, feeling his temperature. He was as cold as ice, causing Fred’s heart to drop.

“We had an accident at Sweetwater–the ice gave in and he fell into the water,” Archie explained, trying to seem calm but Fred knew his boy, and he knew that inside he was panicking intensely. Jughead Jones meant the world to Archie Andrews and Fred knew should anything happen to Jughead, Archie would not be able to function.

“You’re freezing, son,” Fred muttered as he ushered Jughead over to the truck.

“Really?” Jughead managed a joke through a raspy, croaky voice.

Archie couldn’t help his little laugh, “You nearly died and you’re still making jokes.”

“Hey, laughing when life decides to throw shit at you is the biggest fuck you one can give,” Jughead slurred, eyes growing heavy and letting out a sigh of relief as Fred cranked up the heaters. His head began to hurt slightly, entire body completely plagued by fatigue.

Archie followed him inside the truck shortly. Before he was able to sit down Jughead was grabbing for him, clinging on to him like a life support. He rested his heavy head against the soft fabric of Archie’s sweater, trying to warm himself up against the sunshine that was Archie Andrews. He started to grow delirious, in a trance like state. His nostrils twitched, breath hitching and sneezed twice forcefully into the soft fabric. Archie chuckled softly, wrapping one arm around Jughead to warm him up and using the free one to play with his dark curls.

He swallowed, hoping Jughead would be okay.

Fred lifted the sleeping Jughead off of the car effortlessly, extremely surprised at how light he was. He had expected the boy to be quite heavy, considering the amount of food he ate. Archie held open the door and Fred entered the house, settling him down on the couch.

“Archie, go upstairs and get Jughead some new, clean clothes, okay? I’ll go wake him.”

Archie nodded and ran up the stairs. Fred let out a little breath and approached the boy, gently prodding him awake. Jughead stirred slightly, a soft moan escaping his lips, still quivering. His face scrunched up, inhaling sharply to sneeze twice exhaustedly.

“Bless you, son. I know you feel sick but we need you to get changed. I promise you you’ll feel a lot better out of those wet clothes, okay?” Fred tried.

To his relief Jughead begin to shift, so fatigued and weary he moved slowly, like a machine on its last legs. Fred shot him a sympathetic glance and helped him to stand up, his legs shaking as he did so. Jughead groaned softly as a headache started, feeling dizzy and desperate just to get back to bed.

Archie ran down the stairs with a bunch of clothes in his arms. Fred smiled his approval and guided Jughead over to the bathroom, moving very slowly as Jughead’s worn out, energy sapped body could not handle anymore. Archie set down the clothes for him and closed the door behind him, returning to the living room with Fred.

Archie looked sullen and upset, sitting down on the couch looking glum. Fred was glad that Archie wore his heart on his sleeve, so it would be easier for him to know if something was up with his son.

“What’s up, son?”

Archie stayed quiet, but knew he could not lie to his dad, “..It was my fault.”

“Arch–”

“I was jumping around on the ice and then when Jughead took a step back, the ice broke because I had already weakened it.”

Fred let out a soft sigh, giving his son a reassuring smile and cupping his face comfortingly, “Archie, it was an accident. You said so yourself as first. These sort of things happen. Life does this thing where it’s unpredictable and unfair. You saved him, didn’t you? You shouldn’t be guilty of this, you’ve got to forgive yourself and keep moving forward, Arch. It’s just how life goes.”

Archie managed a small smile, attention reverting over towards the bathroom when they heard a chorus of little congested coughs. The bathroom door was swinging open and Jughead was limping back. He was wearing Archie’s grey Riverdale sweater–definitely too big, a batman shirt, also too big, that was layered underneath poking out ever so slightly, a pair of soft black sweats, oversized, warm socks and was beanie-less. He looked extremely soft.

“I’m going to make him some hot chocolate,” Archie announced as he got up and left towards the kitchen. Fred nodded and crawled down to start the fireplace, knowing Jughead needed to stay warm. He looked back for a second, seeing Jughead still shaking slightly but not to the extent he had been earlier.

Fred smiled sweetly, “See? Told you you’d feel better.”

Jughead nodded his thanks, managing the smallest of smiles. Fred finally got the fire working, tossing in an extra log for the heck of it. He left the living room briefly to collect their blankets. He returned, and placed all the cushions near the fire so Jughead could sit there.

Jughead obliged, sitting down by the fireplace and letting out a sigh of contentment. He cherished the warmth he was feeling, closing his eyes and letting out a shaky breath, glad he could be warm.

Fred wrapped a few blankets around Jughead’s weakened frame, ruffling the younger boy’s hair. “You warm enough?”

Jughead nodded softly, opening his mouth to thank Fred when his nose twitched again, retreating into his soft sleeve and he was pitching forward with a congested sounding sneeze. He cleared his throat, voice becoming raspy, “Excuse me..”

Fred sighed, tightening the blankets around Jughead, not even realising he was coddling, “Bless you.”

Fred sat down next to him and pressed the back of his hand to Jughead’s cheek, frowning, “Hmm, you’re definitely getting sick. You’ve got a bit of a fever coming on. I’ll call your dad, you’re staying over tonight.”

Jughead nodded gratefully, stifling a few congested coughs into his shoulder before smiling softly, “Thank you Mr Andrews.”

Jughead sniffled softly, running a hand underneath his nostrils. He coughed lightly into his shoulder again, muscles still a bit tense from the panic of suddenly being thrown underneath freezing cold water. Fred noticed this, lifting his arm up to softly stroke Jughead’s dark curls, massaging and caressing them. Jughead relaxed visibly, letting out a soft sigh.

Archie returned with a steaming mug of hot chocolate, lovingly adorned with marshmallows, sitting down next to Jughead and gently pressing the warm mug into Jughead’s cold hands. Jughead thanked him quietly, delicately sipping at the creamy sweet liquid. He made a little noise of satisfaction as the warmth entered his stomach, warming him up considerably.

Archie wrapped an arm around the boy, bringing him close to cuddle his side. Jughead nuzzled his nose into Archie’s side, before he rested his head against Archie’s shoulder. Archie rested his head on top of Jughead’s.

Jughead felt safe with the Andrews, feeling loved and content. He felt warm and safe, being cuddled by Archie and Fred rustling his hair. He felt sick, and he knew that it was probably going to get worse, but for now everything was fine.

The shock of today’s events made him exhausted. He felt drained of all energy and he just wanted to sleep. His eyes dropped heavily, eyelids fluttering. Archie chuckled softly upon noticing his friend’s obvious sleepiness. He cleared his throat quietly, singing very softly a traditional song. Today was meant to be day where they upheld tradition, and something went slightly array, so Archie decided to bring today back with a traditional song.

“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas Just like the ones I used to know Where the treetops glisten, and children listen To hear sleigh bells in the snow

I’m dreaming of a white Christmas With every Christmas card I write May your days be merry and bright And may all your Christmases be white ..”

Jughead listened to Archie’s sweet voice, the melodious rhythm of his voice killing him into a peaceful, much needed sleep. There, the two best friends sat together in unison. A perfect, dynamic duo. So contrasting and unlike each other, polar opposites. But they balanced each other out, thriving when they had each other.

Archie held his best friend close, hoping against everything that it would remain that way.

#jughead jones #archie andrews #jarchie #riverdale #fred andrews #sickfic #prompts #fever #tw drowning

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biofunmy · 4 years

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What to Know About Prince Harry and Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, Stepping Back

On Wednesday, the Duke and Duchess of Sussex made a big announcement. We are still figuring out exactly what it means.

What exactly are Prince Harry and Meghan doing?

It’s not fully clear and it depends whom you ask.

In a message posted to both the couple’s Instagram page and their new stand-alone website (one of two websites they have introduced in the last few months), the Duke and Duchess of Sussex announced their intentions to “carve out a progressive new role within” the “institution” of the British monarchy; to “step back as ‘senior’ members of the Royal Family”; to “work to become financially independent while continuing to fully support Her Majesty The Queen”; to “balance” their time “between the United Kingdom and North America”; to “honour our duty to The Queen, the Commonwealth, and our patronages”; to launch a “new charitable entity”; and “to collaborate with Her Majesty The Queen, The Prince of Wales, The Duke of Cambridge, and all relevant parties.”

The message seemed to suggest a desire to relinquish some (public) lifestyle funding in order to be less beholden to the strict protocol and de facto traditions of the royal family without sacrificing titles, influence or access.

According to a frosty statement from Buckingham Palace, this is all still being negotiated:

“Discussions with the Duke and Duchess of Sussex are at an early stage. We understand their desire to take a different approach, but these are complicated issues that will take time to work through.”

No bad ideas in a brainstorm.

Is “senior” royal a job?

No. It’s a designation applied to those adult members of the royal family closest to the throne in the line of succession, and their spouses, who tend to carry out the majority of public engagements alongside and/or on behalf of the queen. It currently refers to Queen Elizabeth II and her husband, Prince Philip; Prince Charles and his wife, Camilla; and Prince William and his wife, Kate. One could argue that, since Prince Harry has neither removed himself from the line of succession nor given up his title, he and Meghan remain senior royals.

Announcing a plan to “step back” from being a senior royal is sort of like declaring an intention to recuse oneself from being famous.

Why are they stepping back?

Specific reasons mentioned on their website include enabling themselves “to earn a professional income, which in the current structure they are prohibited from doing,” and handling their own media relations. On that second point, they particularly emphasized their decision to operate independent of the so-called Royal Rota — a key feature of royal family press relations that grants perpetual special access to journalists from seven British publications, including some tabloids.

Harry has long been critical of the British press. In October, he and Meghan initiated legal proceedings against the publishers of multiple British newspapers. He explained their decision in a statement posted on one of the Sussex websites, in which he excoriated the media and drew a connection between the royals’ treatment at the hands of the press and his mother Princess Diana’s death.

And let’s not forget the 2017 interview with Newsweek in which Prince Harry mused, “Is there any one of the royal family who wants to be king or queen? I don’t think so, but we will carry out our duties at the right time.” Not a glowing endorsement of the enterprise.

Has anyone in the royal family ever done this?

Not exactly. The last couple to reject senior royal life was Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson, the original divorced American duchess for whom he relinquished the throne in 1936. But he was, you know, the actual head of state, so the decision prompted a full-blown constitutional crisis.

Other family members have also scaled back their public duties for a variety of reasons. Prince Philip retired from public life in 2017, at the perfectly reasonable-to-retire age of 96. After her divorce from Prince Charles, Princess Diana gave back her HRH title and quit her role with 93 charities. And this January, Prince Andrew stepped back from public duties after an interview with the BBC about his friendship with the convicted child sex offender Jeffrey Epstein.

What does the British public think?

More Britons currently appear to have a view on Megxit than they did on the royal wedding itself.

At first, there were clear and loud rumblings of support. Then a few questions arose about cash, given that quite a lot of it had been thrown about in the last few years. The wedding. The house. The bodyguards.

What really roused Brits was the statement from the palace, which implied that couple had not fully discussed their retreat from royal life with the queen, whom we love. How dare they?

The tabloids, however, had a field day. “They didn’t even tell the Queen!” fumed the Thursday front page of the Daily Mirror. “Queen’s fury as Harry and Meghan say: we quit!” read the lead headline of the Daily Mail. (Other institutions got in on the drama, too: Madame Tussauds in London separated its wax figures of Harry and Meghan from those of the rest of the royal family.)

The term “Megxit” got a lot of airtime. “Harryverderci” has yet to catch on.

What was public sentiment toward the Sussexes like before “Megxit”?

Mixed? Very positive around the birth of baby Archie. Less positive around all the private jet hopping last summer. But most Brits haven’t been paying much attention. Between the recent general election, Australia being on fire and Brexit, the prospect of Megxit had not crossed many people’s minds.

Please tell me no one’s birthday was ruined because of this.

Harry and Meghan made their bombshell announcement on Jan. 8. Seeing as Jan. 9 is Kate Middleton’s birthday, and multiple members of the royal family were photographed arriving at Kensington Palace, for what multiple British websites described as a planned birthday celebration (in the middle of the day, on a Thursday), we cannot state with full confidence that no one’s birthday was ruined.

How many royals does one royal family really need?

Some say: not so many. Last year, the Swedish royal family streamlined its ranks; the king announced that five of his grandchildren would no longer bear titles or be expected to carry out royal duties. They would also no longer be paid the sum royal family members receive each year.

Being royal is expensive, and income inequality is a hot topic. The idea of trimming the royal fat, if you will, is to keep the focus on those in the direct line of succession and minimize the degree to which the family can be criticized for using public funds.

How much does the British royal family cost taxpayers?

Members of the British royal family are fond of sharing the following statistic: The contribution from U.K. taxpayers toward the full overhead of the British monarchy is equivalent to approximately £1 per British person per year.

For argument’s sake, one could note that the French royal family costs French taxpayers nothing, because it was abolished. One former royal palace became the Louvre.

Will Harry and Meghan keep their titles?

They have expressed no intentions to relinquish their titles. Their new website consistently refers to them as “Their Royal Highnesses The Duke and Duchess of Sussex.”

Where will they live?

According to their statement, Harry and Meghan will split their time “between the United Kingdom and North America.”

Earlier this week, the couple visited an official Canadian residence in London “to thank the High Commissioner Janice Charette and staff for the warm hospitality” they enjoyed on a private vacation over Christmas, according to their Instagram page. The caption of the post included multiple neutral statements about Canada seemingly intended as compliments: “The Duke and Duchess have a strong connection to Canada. It’s a country The Duke of Sussex has visited many times over the years and it was also home to The Duchess for seven years before she became a member of The Royal Family.”

For those reasons, and because it’s part of the British Commonwealth, Canada seems like a safe bet for a North American base. There is also speculation that the family could spend more time in Meghan’s home state of California, where her mother resides.

This story will be updated.

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foxhenki-blog · 5 years

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The Nome-God of Innsmouth

Christmas and the New Year are upon us. I’m writing this on the first day of the ostensible pagan new year, December 22nd 2018, the day after the winter solstice. It is a time for plenty and family and indulgence. I was able to get back to the bookstore after a long dry spell of feeding the bottomless maw of the empire as it begged for so many interest payments and spontaneous car repairs like so many cacophonous demonic baby birds in a thorn and brimstone nest.

Among a nativity scene my daughter wanted and a couple of anthropoid shark warriors for my son, I found both volumes of ‘The Gods of the Egyptians’ by E.A. Wallis Budge. It was in the first volume that I found my introduction to what Wallis Budge calls Nome-Gods. From the text:

“During the predynastic period in Egypt every village and town or settlement possessed its god, whose worship and the glory of whose shrine increased or declined according to the increase or decrease of the prosperity of the community in which [it] lived. When the country was divided into section… a certain god, or group of allied gods, became the representative(s)… of each nome, and so obtained the pre-eminence over all the other gods of the nome…”

This idea of a town or a city possessing its own god has been discussed, albeit in a macro-sense, when we have discussed Fortuna. Our first introduction to her in the Lovecraftian mythos was written exactly one year ago in our exploration of ‘The Festival.’ Fortuna is the goddess of cities, of their prosperity and their demise. The Nome-Gods are, in a way, her precursor and an altogether more authentic model as Fortuna was co-opted by empire and used as a tool to further those ends. Returning to the Nome-God model, Wallis Budge states that:

“In this way the whole country of Egypt… was divided among the gods, and it became customary in each nome to regard the god of that nome as the ‘Great God,’ or ‘God,’ and to endow her with all the powers and attributes possible. We have… no means of knowing when the country was first split up into nomes, but the division must have taken place at a very early period, and the gods who were chosen to represent the nomes were undoubtedly those who had been worshiped… during the predynastic period… The Egyptian lists give the number of nomes as forty-two…”

The text continues, stating that:

“The worship of each nome-god contained elements peculiar to itself, and the beliefs which centered in him represented all the ancient and indigenous views of the inhabitants of the nome, and these were carefully observed and cultivated from the earliest to the latest times.”

I fell that we can still see this practice today, as all cities have their own ‘character’ and their own traditions that those that have lived there for any amount of time inevitably follow. Think on it a bit and you will find that I’m right. Certainly those individuals

from Los Angeles:

to Chicago:

take on certain views that can very likely be traced back to the founding of that city and the cultural niche it creates as it continues to expand its influence.

The Catholic Church plays this game as well, assigning a patron saint to each city, from Saint Patrick in Hobart, Tasmania to Saint John the Evangelist for Milwaukee, Wisconsin. In fact, without a Nome-God of some sort, perhaps a city cannot thrive on its own — forever being subject to the influence of the nearest Nome-God and its worshipers (both implicit and explicit).

Nome-gods are very likely composite in nature, perhaps represented by a final archetype but built on the local spirit-forms of the indigenous communities that made their homes (however transitory) within its future borders as well as the spirit-forms brought to the city after it was established and found itself with enough magics-spiritual initiative to grow into a non-human entity itself. The nome-god is the soul of the city as a non-human person.

To carry through into 2019, I have chosen a tale from Lovecraft’s oeuvre that is singularly obsessed with a particular town, ‘The Shadow Over Innsmouth.’ I will allow the author to set the scene:

“During the Winter of 1927-28 officials of the federal government made a strange and secret investigation of certain conditions in the ancient Massachusetts seaport of Innsmouth.”

There are two items of note in this introductory paragraph. ‘Firstly,’ I have contested the popular assertion that Innsmouth is based on the town of Newburyport, MA in favor of what I feel is the more accurate geographic and aesthetic match of Rowley, MA. I maintain that stance here. Also of mention here is the ‘officials of the federal government.’ In ‘The Dunwich Horror,’ [https://gnome.school/blog/yog-sothoth-est-in-porta] similar agents are called upon in the narrative, which took place in or around 1923. In 1927, these agents from a proto-FBI, make another appearance. There is a missing sub-narrative here to Lovecraft’s works, a 1920’s instantiation of the X-Files that is worthy of future investigation. The squarespace site, ‘Historical G-Men,’ offers a window into what these agents might have looked like. The below picture is described as the 1935 FBI training class.

If I were to view this as a hint into the practice of Lovecraftian magic, I would view the 1920s - 1930s fashions of these gentleman as an equivalent of the ‘white linen robes’ and ‘paper crown’ mentioned in the Key of Solomon as the appropriate outfit a magician must wear when calling on and bending demons to their will. A woman who is interested in calling on the aesthetic of the 1920s FBI agent is not left out, as the first female agent was hired in 1922. Alaska P. Davidson was an agent combatting interstate sex trafficking.

As an added bit of fodder for conspiracy, the ‘P’ in Alaska’s name stands for Packard and her brothers, James and William, were the founders of the Packard Motor Car Company, James is picture below in a very Lovecraftian Materialist protagonist pose.

There were other female agents in the twenties, such as Jessie Duckstein and Lenore Houston.

Lenore was committed to a mental institution in 1930 for declaring that she was intent on shooting and killing J. Edgar Hoover, who replaced William Burns following his role in the ‘Teapot Dome Scandal’. The scandal involved a behind-closed-doors leasing of federal oil reserves to the private ‘Mammoth Oil Company,’ essentially a shell company created by Sinclair to take advantage of the secret deal. Following his assumption of the role, Hoover fired all active female agents and there were no other female agents until 1972. In Lovecraft’s time, however, the female FBI agent was a certain reality. One can easily imagine an ‘all-hands-on-deck’ situation where:

” a vast series of raids and arrests occured [in Innsmouth], followed by the deliberate burning and dynamiting… of [a] number of crumbling, worm-eaten… empty houses along the… waterfront…”

That included among the crowds of agents swarming the small Massachusetts town a well dressed Alaska Davidson and a rougher Lenore Houston with a firearm openly displayed in a shoulder holster…

The author goes on to relate how the town was nearly wiped out by the raid:

“There were vague statements about disease and concentration camps, and later about dispersal in various naval and military prisons… Innsmouth itself was left almost depopulated, and is even now only beginning to shew signs of a sluggishly revived existence…”

and that a number of organizations and newspapers were silenced in the wake of the FBI raid, a theme we also find in The Dunwich Horror. Only one paper, a tabloid, makes mention of a connected nautical event when it states:

“Only one paper… mentioned [a] submarine that discharged torpedoes downward in the marine abyss just beyond Devil Reef.”

The closest match for this marine abyss is the Sable Gully. The gully contains the largest underwater canyon of Eastern North America and is filled with dolphins, whales, deep-water fish and colonies of deep-sea cold water coral that are centuries old. As recently as 2011, scientific expeditions into the Sable Gully have revealed new discoveries, a prime area for Lovecraftian spirit-forms or other cosmic horrors to dwell.

Following the prologue, we are introduced to our narrator:

“I never heard of Innsmouth till the day before I saw it for the first… time. I was celebrating my coming of age by a tour of New England — sightseeing, antiquarian, and genealogical — and had planned to go directly from… Newburyport to Arkham… I had no car, but was traveling by train, trolley, and motor-coach, always seeking the cheapest possible route… In Newburyport… The stout, shrewd-faced agents [at the train station ticket-office] seemed sympathetic toward my efforts at economy, and made a suggestion that none of my other informants had offered.

‘You could take that old bus… It goes through Innsmouth… Run by… Joe Sargent… [it] never gets any custom from here, or Arkham either… I never see more’n two or three people in it — nobody but those Innsmouth folks. Leaves the square — front of Hammond’s Drug Store — at 10 AM and 7 PM…”

‘The Square’ is the Market Square Historic District of Newburyport, which is still extant today and as Lovecraft would have seen it.

The drug store in the picture, ‘Eaton’s Drug Store,’ gives us a picture of a corner similar to the one our narrator would have waited on when seeking a ride from Joe Sargent’s Innsmouth Bus. According to this article in the Newburyport News, however, the drugstore on the square at the time of our tale was the Central Pharmacy on the corner of Market Square and State Street. This is more useful for the Lovecraftian Magician, as it give us another physical gate from which we can launch our enchantments appropriately (the Starbucks at 2 Market Square would be an appropriately evil alternative location, I think).

When our narrator pressed his new informant on the town of Innsmouth, some interesting information begins to leak out:

“More empty houses than there are people… Once they had quite a few mills, but nothing’s left now except one gold refinery… That refinery… used to be a big thing, and Old Man March, who owns it, must be richer’n Croesus… Grandson of Captain Obed Marsh, who founded the business. His mother seems to’ve been some kind of… South Sea islander — so everybody raised Cain when he married an Ipswich girl fifty years ago…”

There is one refinery still extant that traces its history back to the Providence area of the nineteen teens, Pease & Curren. In reading the small bit of history on the refinery I found out that Providence used to be the epicenter of jewelry production and with Pease & Curren still active, an interesting line of experimentation might be the use of some of its metals in the creation of Lovecraftian talismans. The narrator’s informant continues, deepening connections with the trench far off the coast and the associated reef of black coral.

“You ought to hear… what some of the old-timers tell about the black reef off the coast — Devil’s Reef, they call it… The story is that there’s a whole legion of devils seen sometimes on that reef — sprawled about, or darting in and out of some kind of caves near the top… old Captain Marsh… was supposed to land on it sometimes at night when the tide was right…”

An interesting premise, a type of nautical cross-roads, thinking of the reef as a type of in-between place. The informant continues, getting to the heart of issues the local population had with Innsmouth:

“the real thing behind the way folks feel is simply race prejudice �� what a lot our New England ships used to have to do with… in Africa, Asia, theSouth Seas… and what… people… they… brought back with ‘em… Well, there must be something like that back of the Innsmouth people… cut off from the rest of the country by marshes and creeks… its pretty clear that old Captain Marsh must have brought home some [of those people] back in the [eighteen] twenties and thirties… Nobody around here or in Arkham or Ipswich will have anything to do with ‘em, and they act kind of offish themselves…”

Lovecraft is laying bare the racism of the area that he grew up in in this passage. Through the listening of the narrator to the story of this informant, he is placing an authorial distance between himself and these feelings but is, in effect, reporting on a racism and xenophobia that is still extant in the area (as is recently reported in Fortune magazine and by NPR). Lovecraft’s work is an anthropological lens into the deep history of racism in New England. If you pay close attention to his writing, and the different distances and voices that he uses, you can see this same vehicle, this same message, throughout his work. The message isn’t, as the Pop Lovecraftian critics assert, that Lovecraft himself was a racist and celebrating racism with his writing, is not what is being said. Lovecraft is offering us an anthropologist’s perspective early 20 c. New England. The informant continues, relating the local perspective of the Innsmouth folk:

“That plague of ’46 must have taken off the best blood in the place. Anyway, they’re a doubtful lot now, and the Marshes and the other rich folks are as bad as any. As I told you, there probably ain’t more’n 400 people in the whole town in spite of all the streets they say there are. I guess they’re what they call ‘white trash’ down South — lawless and sly, and full of secret doings…”

Lovecraft was supremely aware of the nuances of racism. He had clearly given the subject a great deal of thought to be able to weave it in and out of his character studies and narrations in this way. It is rare today, and even more so in Lovecraft’s time, for an individual to be so self-aware of racism and xenophobia. The typical racist is normally unconscious of their behavior, it having been a culturally learned behavior of social survival in the communities in which they are raised.

Taking his leave of the ticket-clerk, our narrator retires to the Newburyport Public Library housed in the Tracy Mansion since 1866, to continue his research. Research and libraries are such a primal part of Lovecraftian Magic that I would say fully half of one’s practice should be from the armchair if it is to be done correctly:

“I spent part of that evening at the Newburyport Public Library looking up data about Innsmouth… The Essex County histories on the library shelves had very little to say, except that the town was founded in 1643, noted for shipbulding [and] a seat of great marine prosperity in the early nineteenth century… Most interesting of all was a glancing reference to the strange jewellery vaguely associated with Innsmouth. It had… impressed the whole countryside more than a little, for mention was made of specimens in the museum of Miskatonic University at Arkham and in the display room of the Newburyport Historical Society. The fragmentary descriptions of these things… hinted to me an undercurrent of persistent strangeness…”

The Museum of Old Newbury is the contemporary instantiation of the Newbury Historical Society. Our narrator, pressing the librarian for more details, was given an introduction to the curator, one Anna Tilton. The surname Tilton has a long history in the New England area. The Tilton family in Newburyport began with the ninth child of Caleb Tilton and Ruth Cooper, Cephas Tilton. Cephas married one Harriet Nichols, they had two daughters who both married and had children. A brother of Cephas, John Cooper Tilton, lived in nearby Haverhill and had a son by the name of John Wilson Tilton in 1844. John Wilson was a graduate of Harvard, a Unitarian, a member of the Free Masons, the Odd Fellows, and the Elks. One can easily imagine that Miss Anna Tilton was an aged gentlewoman of this same lineage. Our narrator, upon meeting Miss Tilton, is escorted into the building housing the private collection of the society:

“The collection was a notable one indeed, but in my present mood I had eyes for nothing but the bizarre object which glistened in a corner cupboard under the electric lights.

It took no excessive sensitiveness to beauty to make me literally gasp at the strange… spleandor of the alien… phantasy that rested there on a purple velvet cushion… it was… a sort of tierra… designed for a head of almost freakishly elliptical outline. The material seemed to be predominantly gold, though a weird lighter lustrousness hinted at some strange alloy with an equally beautiful and scarcely indentifiable metal [with] untraditional designs — some simply geometrical, and some plainly marine — chased or moulded in high relief on its surface… the… other-wordly quality of the art… made me uneasy… It… belonged to some settled technique of infinite maturity… remote from any — Eastern or Western, ancient or modern… It was as if the workmanship were that of another planet… Miss Tilton… was incline to believe that it formed part of some… pirate hoard discovered by old Captain Obed Marsh… Her own attitude toward shadowed Innsmouth — which she had never seen — was one of disgust… she assured me that the rumours of devil-worship were… justified by a… secret cult which had gained force there… called… The Esoteric Order of Dagon… replacing Freemasonry altogether and taking up headquarters in the old Masonic Hall on New Church Green.”

The Esoteric Order of Dagon has a contemporary incarnation that may or may not have a surviving lineage (depending on how one defines living traditions) to that mentioned by the antiquarian Anna Tilton. According to their still extant website, the membership of the 21st century E.O.D. includes Peter Smith, Kenneth Grant, Michael Staley, Nicholaj de Mattos Frisvold, Paul Rydeen, Stephen Sennitt, Stephen Dziklewicz, Ian Blake, Phil Hine, John Beal, Linda Falorio, Mishlen Linden, Jhonn Balance, Nema, Dan Clore, Michael Aquino and Bill Siebert.

Our narrator, true to his obsessions, decides to make the trip to Innsmouth via the method described by the ticket taker, by taking the bus from Market Square:

“Shortly before ten the next morning I stood with one small valise in front of Hammond’s Drug Store in old Market Square waiting for the Innsmouth bus… a small motor-coach of [a] dirty grey colour rattled down State Street, made a turn, and drew up at the curb beside me… The driver… went into the drug store to make some purchase. This, I reflected, must be… Joe Sargent… He was thin, stoop-shouldered… not much under six feet tall, dressed in shabby blue civilian clothes and wearing a frayed grey golf cap… the odd, deep creases in the sides of his neck made him seem older… He had a narrow head, bulging, watery blue eyes… and singularly undeveloped ears. His long, thick lip and coarse-pored, greyish cheeks seems almost beardless… His hands were large… and had a very unusual greyish-blue tinge… as leaving time… approached I… followed the man aboard… murmuring the single word ‘Innsmouth’…”

The tale progresses with a fine and detailed description of Innsmouth, unlike any that I have encountered yet during this project. The narrator exits the bus, checks into the hotel, and goes for a daylight hour walk, happening by another informant in a local First National Grocery store.

His new informant, a young boy who bussed in from Arkham to work at the store, was relieved to speak to him and offered many details:

“As for the Innsmouth people — the youth hardly knew what to make of them. They were as furtive and seldom seen as animals that live in burrows… They seemed sullenly banded together in some sort of fellowship and understanding — despising the world as if they had access to other and preferable spheres of entity… It was awful to hear them chanting in their churches at night, and especially during their main festivals or revivals, which fell twice a year on April 30th and October 31st.”

The two holidays are, of course, All Hallows Eve and Saint Walpurgis Night. The alignment of what are clearly a species of xeno-amphibian-human hybrid’s religion with these two most famous of pagan festivals is an interesting data point. It nudges us closer to the theory that the Greco-Egyptian mythos are extensions of older forms of worship that extend back to the beginnings of humankind and beyond (in Lovecraft’s reality, a metaphorical anthropoid-amphibian species — in our reality the cousins of Homo sapiens sapiens).

Our narrator goes on to commit to what I have always called a ‘wander,’ or one of those aimless walks that one takes in a city that is new. A walk with the sole purpose of exploring, to look at the graffiti, to make wrong turns only to find oneself in hostile or unfamiliar neighborhoods. The conclusion of the second section of ‘The Shadow Over Innsmouth’ makes it clear that one of the primary archetypes for this tale is Innsmouth, Massachusetts itself. Even though the city is clearly in a state of urban ruin according to the descriptions of the narrator, it possesses that one characteristic that marks it as a city-as-non-human entity, a Nome-God. The Nome-God of Innsmouth is Dagon, that most primal of terrestrial Lovecraftian spirit-forms. Dagon can be seen in every corner of Innsmouth and the narrator’s description of the place during his wander is a perfect window into how a modern city expresses its own Nome-god, how it expresses its soul. The archetype of this tale is not Dagon, but how Innsmouth expresses Dagon as a part of its own non-human personality.

Our first tarot card match for the Town of Innsmouth is the Ten of Cups.

Our Ettellia deck offers us two keywords, ‘La Ville,’ and ‘Courroux,’ or ’Town’ and ‘Wrath.’ La Ville is Old French for town, is the source of the colloquial word formation of many US cities, and stems from the Latin ‘villa.’ The villa was a country house or a mansion for the ancient romans and is related to ‘vicus,’ which is a village or group of houses. The villa or vicus are very often the primary atomic element of a city — it is those first few individuals that made a success of life and, as such, attracted other individuals to them. The vicus is the catalyst that transforms the characteristics of the local indigenous spirits into a composite proto-nome-god that is the seed for the spirit of the city to come. ‘Ville’ is drawn from the PIE root *weik-, which means ‘clan’ or a ‘social unit above the household,’ linguistically it is a match for the above-described process. *weik- also expands out into diocese, ecology and economy. Wrath is from the Old English word ‘wræððu,’ which means anger. It is related to ‘wroth,’ which means ‘angry,’ ‘tormented,’ or ’twisted.’ Wroth stems from the Proto-Germanic *wraith- and is related to the Old Frisian term ‘wrath,’ meaning evil. Thusly, the Ten of Cups represents an evil. twisted village, of which there is no better representation in literature than our archetype, the Town of Innsmouth.

#Innsmouth #racism #Graeco-Egyptian Magic

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