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trashyswitch · 3 years

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The New Life of a Dying Afton

Michael walks himself to Henry's house, gutted and disintegrating like a zombie. Henry tries to help him as best he can, and reprimands him for breaking their personal past promises.

This fanfic prompt came up after the following question ran through my head: How would Henry react to scooped Michael? This is my take on it! However, I will warn you: it's dark, gorey and quite sad at times. Though it ends on a bittersweet note, it won't change the general tone and gore within the beginning.

So despite that: here's the fanfic.

Henry was watching TV at home, trying to unwind from his day at work. It was getting tiring trying to work the long shifts these days. It was getting painful too. Some of the mechanical engineering he did in his 20’s were starting to get to him and his physical body now. His back often ached and his right hand would grow more and more painful the longer he worked any kind of machinery. Guess you could say he’s going through the Dirty 30’s of his life. Most of the time the pains and aches didn’t come till the 40’s or 50’s! But some people are just unlucky, I guess.

Henry looked at the time on his watch and sighed as he got up and started to make himself dinner. His wife was out hanging out with a few friends, leaving him to eat dinner alone. He threw some leftover lasagna into the microwave and set it to an estimated time. While he waited patiently for it to warm up, Henry grabbed the newspaper and read it for anything even slightly interesting.

He felt like a retired person: depressed, working a small part time job and living in a small, semi-old house. It worked for what he did, but he sometimes missed the good old days. The days William was a good person with only a quirky personality to prove his eventual criminal mind. It’s strange looking back now, remembering the little things he’d do that would later make sense after killing those children. He remembered the times Will would grow numb and distant, especially after something tragic happened. Example: When Chris died. Now, Henry knew that any death was capable of changing a person.

But William...almost snapped and remained that broken way up until he went missing. He almost lost it when he found out a second Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria was going to open. Why was he the only one who wanted to throw away the Fazbear Entertainment Business for good?! Was it even salvageable after the killings and the Bite of 87?! He really wanted the whole nightmare in his 20’s to be over. But the Fazbear Entertainment was not helping him to stop thinking about it. They just HAD to try and get profit off the animatronic business. He had sadly started a chain of circumstances that he can’t let go of for his life.

Even though he wasn’t the killer, Henry still felt partly responsible for the huge mess he made of things.

Henry’s thoughts were quickly pushed aside as he heard a knock on the door. Henry looked up and looked over at the microwave. It still had a few seconds left. So, Henry stopped the microwave and walked to the door.

He opened up the door. “Hello-”

Henry shouted in horror and just about died from a heart attack right there on the spot! ZOMBIE!

Henry fell his butt and scooted himself back as the zombie held his hands out. “Henry hold on!” it told him.

IT KNEW HIS NAME?! OH NO! “AAAAAH! SH- SHIT! STAY AWAY FROM ME!”

Henry tried to kick the door shut on the crippled, dead looking thing. But to his horror, the walking corpse grabbed his ankle! Henry SHRIEKED as loud as he could!

“HENRY! Henry, it’s me, Michael!” The corpse yelled to him. “Look!” The corpse pulled out his wallet and showed him his health card with a picture on it.

“YOU- YOU STOLE THAT!” Henry tried to tell himself out loud as he looked up at the face. “IT CAN’T BE! MICHAEL’S ALIVE AND FIT, AND-” Henry words started to fade as he immediately recognized the face of the poor boy he knew so well. “I-” He took the health card from him and held it up beside the face of the walking corpse.

Holy crap...it looked EXACTLY LIKE HIM! Except, it looked like Michael hadn’t taken a bath or brushed his hair in weeks! To make things worse, it looked like something under his shirt had been bleeding heavily and staining the shirt.

Henry dropped the health card in pure shock and covered his mouth. “What happened to you?!” He asked as he started to stand up.

Tears started falling down Michael’s darkening cheeks as he reached his hands out, visibly begging for a hug. Henry quickly acted, pulling him into a worried but loving hug. Michael wrapped his arms around him as well, and started crying into his shoulder. He was mentally exhausted from everything he had just been through. He was even partially holding himself up.

Henry rubbed his back and tried to ignore the slightly ghastly smell that was coming from him. He really looked like he was rotting from the outside in. He was secretly hoping the smell was just body oil drowning his skin, pores and scalp. Strangely enough though, Michael didn’t feel moist. He felt...dry. Like super dry. Like heavy amounts of Eczema was covering and destroying his skin bit by bit.

Henry finally pulled away and cupped his purple cheeks. “You...I hate to be that kind of person, but…” Henry brought his hands to his shoulders instead. “You look like shit!”

Michael guffawed somewhat quietly and cracked a yellow, lobsided smile. “I know…” He told him.

“How did this happen? And...do you need some cream?” Henry asked, slightly laughing despite the pain and confusion of seeing Michael so distressed and disfigured.

Michael looked at the back of his own hand, and nodded. “Yes please.” Michael replied, staring at the exposed skin where his nails used to be.

Henry grabbed some cream from the bathroom and handed it to him. Michael sat down on a chair in the living room, and removed the bottle cap. While that was happening, Henry got up and headed to the kitchen to get his presumably hot food from the microwave. He checked his food, and smiled when it felt nice and warm. Henry pulled his lasagna out of the microwave, and walked out to the living room again to check on his less-than-okay nephew.

Michael was putting strips of cream onto his arm and...patting the cream onto his skin instead of rubbing it. Henry widened his eyes and blinked in confusion. That is not how you put cream on. Literally no one puts cream on like that! “Uuuuuh...Doooo you want help? You act like you’ve never put cream onto your skin before.” Henry asked.

“I’m fine.” Michael replied.

HA! That’s a laugh and a half. He is most certainly NOT okay!

“If I rub the cream on like normal, I’ll remove all the skin that’s dying. So I have to be very gentle.” Michael admitted.

Henry blinked and frowned. “Then...is it even worth the fuss?” Henry asked.

“No. But it feels nice and cool.” Michael replied.

“Would...would you rather you had a bath?” Henry asked, placing his lasagna down.

“I’ve tried bathing. But...the skin and hair just falls off and clogs everything.” Michael admitted.

Henry just about gagged at that. Gosh...Whatever happened to him, must be such a pain. He looked down at his plate and...gave it a push away from him. He was quickly losing his appetite. “So what exactly happened to you? Did you get hit with radiation? Are you dying?” Henry asked. “It sounds like radiation poisoning to me. Did you hear about that Nuclear Reactor explosion that happened in Russia?” Henry added.

Michael shook his head.

“A nuclear reactor exploded, and they predict hundreds of thousands of people were exposed to radiation. Hair falling off, skin dying out, and skin color change are all part of it.” Henry explained.

Michael shook his head. “No. I wasn’t exposed to radium. But I did get hit with a metal scooping system.” Michael explained.

Henry tilted his head. “Scooper?”

Michael sighed. “A huge device that looks like an ice cream scooper, that destroys animatronics.” Michael explained.

Henry blinked and quickly looked at him. Did he just say animatronics?!

“Wait wait wait…” Henry pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes. “You didn’t get yourself a job at the old pizzeria, did you?” Henry asked.

Michael shook his head. “Circus Baby’s Pizza-”

“Oh my fucking- MICHAEL!” Henry yelled. “We talked about this! I don’t want you having anything to do with your crazy fucking father! I know it’s probably curiosity that led you to do this, but come on!” Henry reacted. “Did none of that curious cat story stick to you at all?!” Henry asked.

Michael groaned. “That was 6 years ago.” Michael reacted.

“Still! It still applies here. The cat wanted to know what was at the bottom of the well, and tried to swim to get down there. But: she died before she got to see the bottom. One small question about your father, and now look at you! Rotting right in front of me!” Henry reacted.

Michael just chuckled at that. “Hey look: I died after getting my answer.”

“MICHAEL! Death is NOT a joke.” Henry spat at him. “You of all people should know that by now.”

“It can be if it happens enough times.” Michael admitted.

Henry stood up, walked right up to Michael and slapped him across the face. Michael widened his eyes and held his hand up to his own face. “That’s for not listening to me and getting yourself scooped like an ice cream tub.” Henry shot at him.

Michael frowned. “Don’t use ice cream as an allegory. I’ve heard it plenty enough for a lifetime from Elizabeth.”

Michael’s angry face morphed into surprise. “You...you found Elizabeth?” Henry asked.

“Mm hmm...Baby’s eyes changed color to match Elizabeth’s eyes.” Michael explained. “And...she was scooped too.”

Henry frowned. “Did you find anyone else while you were there?” Henry asked.

“Besides a ballerina whose voice strangely reminds me of my mother...no.” Michael replied.

Henry sighed and sat himself down. “Come on: let’s...cover up the tub drain with a drain cover, and let’s get you a bath ready.” Henry decided.

Michael looked up at him and looked down again. Something was up with him. But...he wasn’t saying anything.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong? Or am I gonna have to guess?” Henry asked.

Michael sighed again and started to lift up his shirt. Henry gasped and covered his mouth in panic as he looked at what was left of Michael’s middle. It was just a big, rotting hole of purple with only the lower ribs to identify specifically what was missing.

“Does…” Henry almost felt the need to put his hand in between the hole. “Does it hurt?” He asked, holding his hand out.

Michael gently took Henry’s hand and led it into the hole. The moment his hand went an inch deep without touching anything, Henry pulled his hand away and shook his head in disgust and fear. “It’s okay. Look:” Michael stuck his own hand into the hole, deeper and deeper. Until, he flinched slightly from the strange feeling of his hand touching his spine and nerves. Henry yelped and covered his mouth with his fist with anxiety filling him. He was so nervous he was gonna drop dead at any moment.

Michael removed his hand and gave Henry a smile to show ‘everything’s weird, but fine’. Though the deep red blood on the boy’s hand didn’t help much.

Henry almost shivered. “You sir...are really testing my stomach.” Henry mentioned.

Michael giggled and brought his bloody hand closer to Henry’s face! Henry shrieked and fell right off the couch! Michael bursted out laughing at the reaction, and got up to clean his hand.

“Ew ew ew ew gross- That’s the most inappropriate thing you could’ve done!” Henry reacted.

Michael just leaned forward against the sink and laughed at him. Henry’s reaction was perfect!

“Oh! OH! You wanna laugh now? Alright, you asked for it!” Henry stood right up, walked up to Michael and started tickling his ribs.

Michael yelped. “AAAHAHA! HENRY, WAHAHAIT!”

“WOW! Dead, purple, but still ticklish as ever!” Henry reacted. “Guess your death hasn’t killed off your nerves yet.” Henry brought Michael against the counter, turned him around to lean against his back, and continued attacking his ribs.

“STAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIT! WHYHYHYHY?!” Michael asked, through his strong laughter.

“Why?! Because not only did you manage to break the many rules we agreed on, but you managed to nearly get yourself killed!” Henry reacted.

Michael grabbed Henry’s hands and held them away as he tried to breathe. “Hohohold ohohon…”

“Okay, okay. Take your time.” Henry allowed him.

Michael looked up at him. “Ihihi...Why though? Why did I live after...getting scooped?” Michael asked. He didn’t wanna tell Henry about Ennard, knowing he’ll flip even more if he mentioned a sentient animatronic that wanted to disguise himself.

Henry’s looked down a little and bit his lip. “Well…” He took a moment to think of how he was gonna tell him. “The only way I can describe it...is by giving it a name. I call it ‘The Afton curse’.” Henry explained with an awkward chuckle.

Michael frowned. “...Ouch. I know my family has a bad wrap, but I’m still an Afton too.” He admitted.

“I know, I know. It affects more than just the Afton family as well. Example: my little Charlie.” Henry admitted.

Michael looked down.

“Basically: The Afton family and those who’ve known William, have the unfortunate habit of possessing animatronics.” Henry explained. “But you seem to have gone down a new option: zombifying.” Henry explained.

Michael lifted an eyebrow. “You sound like an alien conspiracy theorist.” He told him.

“I know, I know. But it’s the only way I can explain the ‘possessing animatronics’ thing.” Henry mentioned. “Also, it doesn’t exactly help that the children William killed also rotted in the animatronics.” Henry added.

Michael made a disgusted face. “Great...I’m rotting without an animatronic to hold me together. And I’m stuck with this family curse because I’m genetically linked to a killer.” Michael groaned. “I have never wanted to slap my father across the face more than I do now.” Michael admitted.

Henry laughed a little. “Don’t we all?”

Michael smiled at that. “Can we...stop talking about the ‘Afton curse’? And maybe go back to the ‘You died! Time to tickle you!’ thing?” Michael asked.

Henry laughed and was taken back. “Really?!”

If Michael could have blushed, he probably would’ve at that very moment. “I mean...yeah! I kinda feel like laughing-” Michael’s explanation was quickly interrupted by a pair of hands tickling his ribs again. “HeheheHEHAHAHAHAHA! OHBOY- OKAHAHAYHYHYHY!”

“I don’t think I fully remember just how ticklish you are. I doubt you even remember either! It’s probably been a while since you were last tickled.” Henry admitted.

“YOHOHOHOU THIHIHIHINK?” Michael reacted.

“Yes! Now hush. I wanna hear some squeals and snorts from you.” Henry ordered jokingly as he lifted one of his arms up.

“HEHEHEHEhehehe...Henry, don’t even think about it!” Michael ordered. Henry only smirked at this and wiggled his fingers really close to his armpit. Michael yelped and developed a wobbly smile with nervous giggles spilling out.

Henry couldn’t stop his evil facade from breaking. He soon dropped his wiggling hand and started laughing. “Ihihi’m nohot even tickling you!” He reacted.

Michael tittered into the side of his closed fist. “Cahahause ihihit’s the suspehehense!” He explained.

“The suspense? For something you told me you wanted?” Henry mentioned. He started wiggling his fingers again and finally touched down on the vulnerable armpit. Michael shrieked like a bat, and completely lost himself in his laughter. “Wow!” Henry reacted. “I don’t mean to sound insulting, but you sound a little like the Joker.” Henry admitted.

“HEHEHEHEY! IHIHIHIHI’M OHOHOFEHEHEHE-”

“Offended? Did I offend the son of a famous killer? Are you gonna vow vengeance on me and get him to kill those who bully you?” Henry teased.

“WHAHAHAHA?! HAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!” Michael shook his head and kicked his feet wildly.

“Oh, you’re not?! Thank goodness! I would’ve been a goner!” Henry teased.

Michael kicking started to reach Henry’s belly and waist, leading Henry to grab his feet. “Hey now! Who told you you could kick me?” Henry asked.

Michael’s laughter fell into giggles once again, mixed with panting. “Sohohohohorryhyhyhyhy.” Michael told him.

“I’ll forgive you, but you gotta promise me-” Henry pulled off his socks, “you’ll never try and kick me again.” he started skittering his fingers onto his foot.

Michael threw his head back and snorted before falling into rapid giggles. “Hehehehehehehenryhyhyhyhyhy! Nahahahahahahaha!”

“Wow! You’re still able to talk after all this? Your lungs must’ve grown extra strong when you died!” Henry teased, giving Michael’s chest a couple pats.

Michael’s giggles paused, and were quickly replaced with coughs. Henry quickly let his foot go, walked up to Michael and patted his back to help him cough it out.

“Ohohow...Ow. I think my lungs are broken.” Michael admitted.

“Was tickling you a little too much?” Henry asked.

Michael shook his head. “No. I needed that. Thank you.”

Henry smiled and fluffed his hair. “You’re welcome.”

Michael’s eyes went cross-eyed when he felt a bunch of his dead hair falling down his face. It felt weird. Henry widened his eyes and looked down at his own hand:

It was completely covered in Michael’s hair.

Henry looked down at his hand, back up at Michael, back at his hand and back up at Michael again. Not sure how to react, Henry rubbed the hair from his hand onto Michael’s chest. Michael laughed at this and just took it. Guess all the zombie jokes can be made. Starting after his drain-clogging bubble bath.

#post sister location #scooped michael #henry emily becomes michael's guardian #ticklefic #ler!henry #lee!michael #blood and gore #graphic depictions of zombifying #angst and hurt/comfort #angst and fluff

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racebox-of-higgars · 3 years

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No More Boring Allegories

Part One of “The Unkindest Cut Of All”

So, this is the first in a new oneshot series I’m writing. I’m gonna say here - BIG trigger warning for suicide for the whole series.

Please stay safe everyone, my DMs are always open if you ever need to talk.

Summary: "You noticed things were getting bad. He was too distant, as if he was a million miles away. He went through the motions of the day without actually being there. You sit him down, you say, “we need to talk,” and you don’t miss the way immediately puts up walls around himself. But he knows what it's about and he knows that you know, which just about destroys any chance of actually getting somewhere you may have had with him. You gave him the chance to close himself off, and he took it. That was mistake number one."

It's been six months since Race died, and Jack finally found the courage to go through and work out where things really went wrong.

Songfic based on How To Save A Life by The Fray. Title from Turtles All The Way Down by Sammy Copley

Read on AO3 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/31398146

@angelslibrary

Dear Past Jack Kelly.

Jack slammed the pen down on the desk, head in his hands. This was already so stupid. Apparently it was supposed to help, supposed to give him some form of release or closure, but he couldn’t see how that was supposed to work. All it did was bring everything back to the surface, everything that he had tried to push down for the last 6 months. He wasn’t ready to confront that.

“Jack?” Davey said from the doorway. “Are you doing it?” Jack looked up at him, saw the encouraging smile he wore, then back to the paper in front of him.

“I’m trying to,” he said finally. Davey nodded.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“Please.” Davey nodded again and disappeared down the hall, pulling the door shut behind him with a gentle click. Jack turned back to the paper. He could do this.

You noticed things were getting bad. Too late, but you noticed, and surely that counts for something, right? He was too distant, as if he was a million miles away. He went through the motions of the day without actually being there. So obviously, as any older brother would, you confronted him. You sit him down, you say, “we need to talk,” and you don’t miss the way immediately puts up walls around himself, his face an unreadable mask. “Sit down,” you tell him. “It’s only a talk.” But he knows what it's about and he knows that you know, which just about destroys any chance of actually getting somewhere you may have had with him. You gave him the chance to close himself off, and he took it. That was mistake number one.

Tears welled in his eyes and he furiously blinked them back. He felt sick, thinking about it all. Thinking about every mistake he had made. Maybe, if he had done things differently, Race would still be here. He had done everything all wrong, and it was his fault. His brother was gone, and it was his fault.

He pushed those thoughts back. They were the ones that got him spiralling, and he wasn’t equipped to deal with that. Not now. He furiously wiped his eyes, picked the pen back up, and kept writing.

He had this polite smile - nothing like his normal one, but you couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen that. You wanted to smile back, but you couldn’t. Instead, you just stared at him. You stared through his masquerade, saw straight through the facade to the hurt underneath that he tried so hard to hide. That was eating him up inside, anyone who knew him could tell, but he had this act that he hid behind. All you wanted to do was break down that act. You just wanted him to tell you the truth for once, but every word that slipped past his lips were lies. Each one drove you further and further apart. Maybe that was what ended it.

Jack and Race had always been close. They told each other everything. Maybe that’s what hurt the most about Race’s lies. They had always been open books to each other, but Race had withdrawn, closed that book, and that’s what had hurt Jack the most.

He was thinking in terms of him being hurt by Race’s actions again. That, rather than how hurt Race had been. He had been making that mistake a lot recently. It wasn’t like he could help it, after all, he was actually here to feel that hurt, Race wasn’t, but that was only because it had become too much for him, apparently. It was becoming too much for Jack, too.

You were terrified. How could you not be? You were walking this line between fearing the worst every day and placing all the blame on him, on yourself. One wrong foot, and you’d fall, and either way would fuck everything up. If you let him know how afraid you truly were, it would only push him away further. If you started blaming him, he’d get worse. If you started blaming yourself, you would end up in the same position he was, and what use to him would that be? It was like some sick tightrope, where one just of wind, one toe out of line, and you would plummet and everything would spiral out of control. As if things weren’t already out of control, completely beyond your efforts. At that point, there was nothing more you could do. It was already over.

Jack furiously wiped his eyes as he went through the motions of Race’s last weeks in his head. Of course, trying not to blame himself hadn’t worked. He did now more than ever. Tears smudged the ink slightly as he wrote, but he powered through. His wrists cramped, but he was finally getting to the root of it all. This had started out as some stupid exercise, but he was beginning to find something in it all.

You tried to talk to him again. Of course, as always, he turned you away with one of those perfectly crafted smiles that only you seemed to be able to see through. A short, “I’m fine, Jack,” and one of those smiles, and you knew there would be no getting through to him. You wondered why you even tried. He didn’t want to be saved.

He didn’t want to be saved. That’s what had resonated with Jack the most. Race hadn’t wanted him, no matter how hard Jack tried to believe that he did. If anything, by pushing him Jack had only pushed him away more. He had gone wrong in so many places, he could see that now, but hindsight wasn’t going to do him or Race anymore. Hindsight couldn’t bring Race back.

You tried to set things out logically for him. After all, you could see everything from the outside, so you could use that perspective to help, right? Wrong. You couldn’t see everything. You couldn’t see how much everything was tearing him up inside. “You think you know this better than I do, don’t you?” He had asked, bitter betrayal in his voice, and you weren’t able to answer, because it was the truth. You couldn’t tell him outright that he was wrong in the way he was coping, but you had to in some way, otherwise you would lose him forever. He didn’t want to hear it when you tried to explain that. It was as if he had put up some wall and you saw that he wasn’t listening to a word you tried to tell him. He had made up his mind.

God, he had fucked everything up. His brother was gone, and it was his fault. He had done everything he knew how to try to save Race, and yet, here he was - writing this stupid fucking letter to himself 6 months ago, but it felt like years and only seconds at the same time. Every day without Race felt as if it was a year, yet they were so monotonous that they passed by in the blink of an eye. How was it only 6 months ago? It felt like he had aged 50 years since it all happened. He had made too many mistakes. Too many fuck ups. He was only 21, he wasn’t meant to feel this old, this broken.

For the first time in your life, you prayed. You prayed that he would just see sense, like a mantra, every night. “Please, God, let him wake up. Let him listen to me. I haven’t asked you for anything before now, and I’ll never ask for anything again, just grant me this. Bring him back to me.” God doesn’t listen. You learned that the hard way. Why doesn’t God listen? Isn’t He supposed to save good people? Then why didn’t he save him, who had never done anything wrong? Race deserved to be saved. Maybe it was God’s way of punishing you.

Jack had given up on believing. After that, he didn’t see the point. If God couldn’t see that Race deserved His mercy, then surely He wasn’t there. Since then, he hadn’t believed in much of anything. There was nothing to believe in. Nobody had heard him when he screamed and cried and begged for someone, anyone to save Race, so why should he have faith in them? There was nothing. Nothing that was worth believing in, anyway.

He started yelling. You didn’t expect that from him. Every time you had confronted him before, he had always been soft-spoken, quiet as sweet lies spilled easily from his lips. Not this time. This time he exploded, hurling accusations like knives, and you were lost. What could you do in that situation? You lowered your voice, tried to make him listen to you, finally, but he wouldn’t. He was too far gone.

You saw the two paths he had ahead of him - he could spill everything, and maybe then he’d have a chance of being saved, or he’d just smile and say that he’s just not the same anymore. It’s the stress of college, that’s what he told you. And then you blew up. That was your final mistake. It was all lies, and you were sick of them. He tried to blame it on the time you had spent apart, but it was all bullshit, you knew that. You saw straight through him, but there was no way for you to make him see. Again, you wondered why you bothered trying anymore.

Except this time, you said it out loud, and that was the biggest mistake.

Jack’s tears came freely, staining the paper with streaks of black as sob after uncontrollable sob wrenched its way from his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. Guilt clouded his mind, tinting everything black. Nothing was right anymore. It had all gone wrong, in that moment. Who knew one moment, just a few seemingly meaningless words could tear a world apart?

You did everything you knew how. It wasn’t enough to save him though. There never would be enough to save him, he was too far gone before you even started trying. You tried everything you knew. But even then, no matter how much you do, it won’t change anything. Because he’s gone, and you can’t save him.

#newsies #newsies fanfiction #suicide tw #angst #dead racetrack higgins #jack kelly #racetrack higgins #davey jacobs #fanfiction #jack kelly and racetrack higgins are brothers #background javid

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fedoranonymous · 3 years

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Okay okay okay

If we're gonna do a powerpuff girls reboot, let's do a

Powerpuff Girls Reboot!

We open with the intro text from the original cartoon. It's iconic, it's been basically unmodified since they were the Whoopass Girls, you've gotta have it. Either use the original animation or hire three cute lil things to do it, but have your new Professor read it out.

When we get to "but a secret ingredient was added to the concoction..." start pulling out to reveal that it's coming from the TV, and the Girls are reacting to the portrayal of their childhood in real time. They keep saying the girls are cute, but they have things to say about the plot. Blossom wants to know if this is a period piece or isn't it, make up your mind. Bubbles is worried about people confusing fiction for reality and blaming them for things that happen on TV. Buttercup just wants to watch a mindless action flick.

The Professor narrates again. "It's been ten years since the Girls first woke up in that Lab. Of course, they were already physically six by then. Mentally... Well, they certainly had the intelligence of adults 7 times their age. Along with the innocence of children. That was our goal -- people who could really, honestly, and without cynicism plot an attainable future for humanity. The superpowers? Well they caught everybody by surprise."

Flashback to the girls earliest moments perhaps, or just go straight to: for their safety, and to try and dissuade the onslaught of costumed villains that have come to Townsville seeking a fight with Real Superheroes, the Mayor and the Professor have decided that there will be No More Superheroing In Townsville Anymore. They get to live the next twelve years as ordinary girls, have real lives, isn't that exciting?

Well, if it's what you think is best.

In the intervening decade, the girls have grown. They're not perfect little girls anymore.

Blossom has clearly seen the Incredibles. She has a meticulous line of silver medals: science fairs, races, MMA. Straight 95% As across the board. Her golds are all in team sports, and her clear eye for tactics has garnered her the attention of the junior ROTC, who she has to dodge frequently and ever more creatively because "it just doesn't seem right to train with them like an ordinary soldier when I have heat vision and two purple hearts".

Major drama comes from her science fair partner who seems... Weirdly well researched about weapons manufacturing. And obsessed with superheroes. During the midseason finale, they get way too riled up working on their automatic water purification system and end up inventing a weather machine that goes haywire. Science fair partner is way too into "something exciting happening for once". Even though it nearly destroys the city, they get a Tidy defense contact for the technology. Blossom adds it to her secret safe absolutely bursting with various patents.

Bubbles, meanwhile, is working herself to the bone trying to do as much good as it's possible for a "normal girl" to do. She volunteers at the hospital. She gets yelled at by the Professor for giving plasma when they can't know it wouldn't hurt a normal human. She volunteers at the soup kitchen, at Big Brothers Big Sisters, at Habitat for Humanity. She's a religious follower of the "only eat what can be grown within x miles of where you live" (I think it's 100?) While being vegetarian, obviously, she can talk to animals. She had to get yelled at for volunteering at the pound for that reason, too, but the vets missed her so much, she got brought back in. She's much more vocal about shopping locally, though, and she is never not eating a handful of nuts, because this girl needs protein! She feels bad even though she knows squirrels eat a different kind of nuts.

Definitely a scene at a farm where her cow friend tells her that food is love and that she needs milk so she can have bones string enough to punch through steel, right after Bubbles had punched through some steel.

Definitely the instigator of Let's Fight Crime Again and early season drama of her learning that she needs to accept some reciprocation of all the love she puts out into the world. Like, she drops out of the sky out of exhaustion, shit like that.

And Buttercup? Buttercup is just fine. Never been better. Cruising down easy street. No complaints here. Yeah, she's been suspended for starting fights with normal kids again, and that's super dangerous, but that kid's an asshole and all they've got is a couple of bruises. Yeah, she stays out all hours of the night, trying to drink and use enough that it gets past her metabolism, but like, it hasn't yet? Honestly this is science at this point. And yeah, no one knows where she got the money for that bike (until an early season episode reveals that she's been cutting hair at a publish barbershop that is either part of or adjacent to a tattoo parlor, and that her coworkers there are the only people she feels like she can talk to. All the characters here are blatantly queer.) But the bike isn't stolen, or anything, back off.

The only thing that lets on that there might be something deeper than "takes no shit, gives a mean right hook" is the way she JUMPS at the chance to fight "for real" again.

As a Powerpuff Girl, as a kid, Buttercup always felt like all she could do was fight. Blossom was the smart one, the leader; Bubbles was the kind one, the friend to all. Yeah, they all had the same capabilities, but like most twins and triplets, they specialized. So the could hit, too, but she could hit best.

Having their hero work taken away from them hit Buttercup hardest of all. Especially because when they started trying to take up "normal" hobbies, Blossom and Bubbles had an easier time holding back their powers while she felt like she had no middle ground between laughably weak and giving her all. Basically, a feedback loop. So Buttercup has spent the last ten years walking on eggshells Constantly and is ready to go Ape Shit.

All of these skewed self esteem issues make her crazy self sacrificial and beastly to fight. She's not holding back anymore, and she never will again! This is who she is, this is all she'll ever be, and she'll die as herself rather than give anything less than 100%!

You know, terrifying.

Comes to a head when one of her sisters takes a hit meant for her and she realizes that she might be the most fucked up, but they kind of all are a little fucked up. The same, but more so.

Obviously everyone's going to want the Rowdyruff Boys to feature heavily, maybe the teaser after the midseason/season finale is them making parole or something? I've got to admit, they were never my favorite villains. If the series leans more comedy, maybe start with them coming (back?) to school and purposefully starting trouble while making direct eye contact, since they Know.

I definitely see the Gangreen Gang being involved with Buttercup's tattoo parlor place. Not even commiting crimes, just being Green and sleezy. Or, shit, that's a racial profiling allegory. Very CW, but no thanks! I have no trust in my senshi heart, you will fuck it up, forget I said anything.

That being said, if you don't get the license for ANY Gorillaz music, when Ace has canonically played for them? Fuck right off.

I really want HIM to appear in a place of prominence, like a season finale. Just rip HIM straight out of the cartoon, don't try to update HIS appearance or schtick at all. But HE is all about getting into your head and toying with your insecurities, right? I just went through all this effort to give the girls imposter syndrome and negative self worth, let HIM play.

I regret my formatting choices on that last paragraph.

Also Halloween episode where they go as their alter egos from Super Zeroes and the monster is like "Oh not this shit again" and the girls are like "hey, we can dress up AND kick ass".

#let me know if there are other characters you want to see me do treatments on #i can do the rrb for real too i just need to rewach their eps first #long post #Powerpuff girls #powerpuff girls reboot #eli's writing tag

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cockroachmotherfucker10 · 4 years

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hi, idk if this is okay but here goes... this blog's really helped me a lot in recovery from AN. i've been doing well lately. since diagnosis, i've been on my own with this bc the mental health system in my country is broken. i guess my question is, do you have any tips for continuing recovery during grief? a really close friend has just passed and i can't get myself to stomach even a bite. i just don't know what to do, i'm lost. thanks in advance, it's okay if you don't reply to this, really.

Hey! I am so glad this blog could help you, it’s truly an honor! Also I live in America, my healthcare system also sucks ass. Recently had symptoms of kidney infection- couldn’t go to an in person doctor because the only place that took my insurance was closed in my city and they wouldn’t set me an appointment in person, though I tried to get one. Basically just had to tough it out- it sucked. Basically trying to validate you- having shitty healthcare is basically the worst.

As for grief, I am really sorry to hear that your friend passed away. It’s an absolutely horrible thing to go through, for every good memory you had with them you have to remember time and time again that they aren’t here anymore, and that’s a feeling that takes a really long time to become more okay with. Not that it’s the same thing, as everyone’s relationship with grief is different, but I lost a close grandmother on January 30th, 2020. I mourn her everyday, and it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through in my entire life. Still is. I miss her every day, and think about her all the time.

So some words on grief.

1. Cheesy, but it does get better with time.

I read an allegory for grief, and I have found it to be true. Grief is like a big ball inside of a tiny box (which represents you). Every time the ball touches the side of the box- it hurts really bad. You cry, you stare at the wall for hours, you lose your appetite, a lot of things. At first- your ball of grief is huge- and it’s constantly and randomly hitting the sides of the box. For me- the time around my grandmother’s death and funeral, I was completely out of commission. I couldn’t stop crying, and when I did I couldn’t focus on anything. I was completely incompacitated for weeks. But then- over time, the ball of grief gets smaller and smaller, and touches the side of the box less and less. Now, I can think about her without bursting into tears, I look back on my time with her with a sense of nostalgia rather than sharp pain most of the time. Now while my ball of grief is smaller- sometimes it still randomly touches the sides of my box, and I break down crying (hell- I am tearing up now lol). That’s okay. It’s all apart of the process. The grief never fully goes away- but it becomes less and less consuming. This does not mean you love your loved one any less, it just means your body gets better at metabolizing their absence so it hurts less. Also not you can’t force the ball to get smaller before it’s ready to (believe me- I tried). Just let it happen.

2. Express your emotions healthily

Want to know what not to do? Keep your emotions locked into your chest. Especially if you have an ED, it’s important to let yourself cry as hard and as often as you need to. What you don’t get out now will bite you in the ass later. It’s so, so painful. I have never cried so hard in my entire life than I did at my grandmother’s funeral, I couldn’t even get a word of apology out. It felt awful, and vulnerable, and it wasn’t pleasant at all. Crying is not fun, but it was necessary. Afterwards, I felt soooo much better. This is because crying chemically is like letting the extra air out of a balloon about to pop. There is no shame in it. Do it, and do it often. As often as you need, don’t hold it in. Let the pain come, and then when it is ready it will pass. Remember what you don’t process now you most certainly will be forced to process later in the form of chronic pain, worse depression, worse ED symptoms, and worse health. Let it out.

3. There is no wrong way to grieve

So I just spent all that time talking about crying- but it’s also possible that your grief will express itself in other ways, such as feeling numb, or even feeling fine. The key thing is to not judge how your body metabolizes this. Let it do what it needs to do, and do not judge it. To it body will do what it needs to do, fighting it is a pointless uphill battle. Accept it with self compassion, console yourself like a friend would. Tell yourself it’s okay to feel numb, or to cry, or to be okay, etc. let it happen.

4. Reach out for support

Be it from a friend, a family member, or a therapist (or best- all three!) if you feel like it would help you, reach out and talk about how you are feeling, or do something distracting. Mod Lia and I called the night I saw my grandmother for the last time, and we didn’t talk about it much at all. We watched She-ra. That helped a lot. Later I called another friend and talked about how I was feeling. Later I talked about it with Mod Lia, too. And of course my therapist- who helped me process it in a healthy way. On that note, especially with an Ed, if you can, get a therapist. Do it. Better than anybody they will be able to help you find the healthiest way to grieve, and help provide tips and accountability for preventing the worsening of an ED.

5. Tips on not drop kicking your ED behaviors further into hell

Having a schedule for eating (and other necessary activities) really helped me. At certain times, regardless of wether or not I was hungry, I forced myself to eat just because it was food time. Doing this prevents you from slipping into ED behaviors, especially when it is easy to do. Having a therapist or a willing friend to hold you accountable can also help. Express your emotions healthily. Talk to your loved one still, on walks or however. Talk about them in conversation. Do things that remind you of them. Make a memorial for them- whatever that means to you. Allow them to still occupy space in your life, if that feels right. If not, that’s fine. Taking care of yourself is hard, but if you don’t you are going to make it worse for yourself. It’s like puting an ankleweight in when you are already drowning. Take intentional steps (such as setting reminders and alarms) to ensure you take care of yourself, and even see if there are people who would do it with you. Like if you are having a hard time eating, see if a friend will have lunch with you every day at a certain time, or a couple different people (over the phone if need be). Plans, for me, really help me keep it together.

To sum it up, the biggest thing is to not fight the grieving process, set specific schedules for different aspects of self care (with alarms), reach out when you need help, and be patient because it takes time.

There is nothing I can say to make your loss feel better, but it is so hard to lose someone, and I’m sorry you have to go through that. Be patient, don’t expect a ton of productivity out of yourself, and just wait out these unpleasant storms. Thing are never going to feel the same ever again, but eventually you will get used to a new normal, and that doesn’t mean you are doing them an injustice. Keep remembering them, and be patient with yourself.

Best of wishes,

Mod Cass

#mod cass #og post #ask #edrecovery #actually ed #pro recovery #mental health #recovery #ed recovery #grief #dealing with grief

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beastars-takes · 4 years

Text

Beastars Chapter 5

Up front for this chapter--I want to talk a little bit about the connection to sexual violence here, so if that’s something you don’t want to read I’ll put it below the jump.

Recap: Legosi has grabbed the bunny.

What is that, a heartbeat? That’s what I’m assuming. I like the freaky double linework here--not sure if that appears anywhere else in the comic. Once again, Paru is experimenting a lot here.

Something I find sort of funny and also sort of sad is Legosi’s vacant stare throughout this whole scene--he’s normally so expressive, and maybe he’s just in shock, but he looks more like an actual wolf here than just about anywhere else.

So, as promised, below the break. Here is where it gets horny.

I’m liking how the clouds are kind of shaped like his claws in the middle panel.

Anyway, per the setup post, we have at least a rough idea of why this is where the comic is going. Paru seems fairly bought into the idea that men and women are fundamentally different, and finds male desire incomprehensible (and threatening?). So, rather than try to depict it realistically, she blends it with an animalistic prey drive. And the overtones of sexual violence here are hard to miss.

If we take this as direct allegory, it implicates all men as not just potential rapists, but aspiring rapists (at least in their weak moments). And yet, over and over, the comic will put forward the idea that it’s worth it for prey (or women) to endanger themselves to bond with and draw out the good sides of these walking threats to their safety.

That’s...pretty intense, and anyone examining it through an ideological lens would have plenty to find fault with.

But I don’t think this is an ideological work. It doesn’t feel, to me, like someone telling me how the world is or how it should be. It feels like the author is trying to express, viscerally, the experience of being her. Who am I to tell her she’s wrong?

That’s why I’m very wary of jumping on one thing or another in this comic as Problematic or whatever--it’s so idiosyncratic and so personal. I don’t think Paru is done working through her feelings about men and women and sex. This feels like the messy, honest output of someone trying to work through some shit.

As an aside, we have three panels in rapid succession where I can’t tell if Legosi is meant to be crying or if it’s just weirdly-placed sweat and shading. Usually I’m all in favor of ambiguity in art, but somehow this one thing drives me nuts.

And this is where Beastars really plants its flag. This isn’t Zootopia. This isn’t a story about unfair stereotyping. This is about sex and desire and human connection and empathy and it has some WILD shit to say. I’m still not sure how I feel about all of it.

Legosi finally loses control. More ambiguous linework here, but it looks like he was biting his own arm to stop himself. Bless him. He tried so hard.

Combing through these pages again actually makes me feel worse about how much Haru’s traumas and problems are elided later in the story. She really deserves some real resolution and catharsis after all the shit she put up with in this story.

Really interesting how Zoe snaps him out of his predatory frenzy instantaneously. His pupils are back, he lets her go. At the slightest hint of social pressure his “uncontrollable urges” are...gone? Under control?

What are we meant to think would have happened if Haru had approached him? Talked to him?

I imagine most people (who are not rapists) are skeptical of the idea that someone can be so overcome with desire that they truly can’t control themselves. What is the comic actually communicating here?

I could be reading too much into this moment, but very recent chapters have thrown into question the idea that the carnivores “naturally” want to eat the herbivores in the first place. Suspect this whole scene will be worth coming back to again once the whole comic is finished.

Poor Legosi. On my first read-through, I saw him here as a nice, innocent kid who was shocked and confused by what just happened to him.

I was wrong. It’s so much worse than that. He knew this was there all along, and it’s just affirmed to him that he’s every bit the worthless monster he’s always believed he was.

This is such a great moment. Louis has potentially taken himself out of commission for the lead role--there’s no way saving Zoe was a smart or selfish move. But he’s not ready to admit even to himself that he’s capable of altruism.

Like I said in the Chapter 2 post, it took me a long time to warm up to Louis, but the groundwork was laid from the very beginning. He’s such a good character.

Yeah I almost ate your FWB nbd tho

This is a wonderfully sad illustration of what this kind of self-loathing feels like--even his reaction, violent and destructive, further cements in his mind that he’s a monster that doesn’t deserve to exist in this world. Giving the letter to Els, guarding the theater, the mirror--this is what happens whenever he tries to do anything.

Again, upon re-read, seeing how all of his endearing awkward aloofness flows out from this paralyzing self-hatred? Boy really needs a hug.

#beastars #beastars takes #beastars liveblog #beastars spoilers #legosi #legoshi #haru #louis #zoe

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vxndictive · 4 years

Text

Rap Devil Flayn giving short comments on each of the tracks in Too Bright, Too Loud:

Open Your Eyes: “This one had to be the album opener, since it’s meant to represent the moment in which my naivety disappeared. I’m not the same person i was when i started out, and Open Your Eyes is an allegory to that. You could call it a childhood’s end of sorts.”

The Show Must Go On: “When i left my previous label, i had it set in mind that i didn’t want to retire either. I love making music, but doing it completely on my own was not an easy task. But i pushed on regardless; I self published my albums, focused more on free mixtapes and sold my lyrics online. It was definitely a step backwards, but if i can be honest being free to do what i wanted made it worth it in the end. After all, the show must go on.”

Lie: “This one can be a bit of a doozy. To make it short; This was me putting on ‘The Mask’, which comes off in a later track. Being an idol can be rather taxing mentally, and having to put on a good face for the fans comes before my own personal feelings... Though sometimes it ends up making me feel worse because i feel like i’m not being honest with them. That’s what Lie is about. Putting up a facade for the people that look up to you, even though it ends up taking a toll on yourself.”

Face My Fears: “Face My Fears is about my debut. It probably sounds silly to hear this from me of all people, but i was a damn wreck back then. Even making it there was ridiculously hard; There was a lot of competition, a lot of people telling me i wouldn’t make it, and my own internal struggles made me believe all of that. I didn’t tell anyone this, but the day of the debut i locked myself in the bathroom of the venue and i started crying because the pressure was too much. Akali had to get me out of there just to convince me that running away would be betraying not just myself, but the people that were supporting me from behind. I’m really thankful she did that, if she hadn’t then i surely wouldn’t be here right now.”

Home: “Ah... This one is probably the heaviest one. It’s no secret that i got evicted after i left my old label, and i was homeless for almost an entire year. If i had to name one of the darkest parts of my life, this one would be it. It was in the middle of winter too, so even finding ways to stay warm was a challenge. I made amends by selling lyrics and performing underground again, but it was not nearly enough of what i needed to find proper housing until much saving. Not having a place to call a home is devastating, if i can be honest. This song is quite possibly my most personal one... And that’s why it’ll never be performed live. I sincerely have a hard time even listening to it, i decided to include it in the end because i wanted to say everything i had to say and share everything i had to share.”

Broken Wings: “Broken Wings is meant to be a direct continuation to Home. It’s the moment i hit rock bottom; When i thought i would never get out of the pit i had gotten myself into and i was about to resign myself that it was probably time to swallow my pride and call it quits. And yet... The beat is oddly slow. Relaxing, even. I asked Yasuo to go with that because it’s identical to how i felt at that moment. There’s was a strange sense of numbness that just killed my will to try anything, and when the tempo begins to pick up at the halfway point? That’s when i realized it was not the right choice. I would keep pushing forward, no matter what obstacles i had in front of me.”

For The Woman Who Has Everything: “This one is a bit of a bad realization moment. Once i got settled with RG and i finally got my housing situation sorted out i thought everything would be smooth sailing from here on out, but... I still didn’t feel happy. There was something eating away at me, telling me that even though i was living my dream i would just fall again. I already did so once, what was my assurance that it wouldn’t happen a second time? Failure is always a possibility, and even when it seems i have everything i could possibly want... Maybe i could lose it all just as quickly.”

Beneath The Mask: “And here is when the mask finally breaks. I had recorded this entire album in a single week before i signed with RG and it was meant to remain as an unreleased private mixtape, but some of these dark feelings were starting to resurface and... I knew i just had to bring it to the world. I didn’t want to just put it out like that, though: I made all the old beats myself, the mixing was terrible and honestly the mastering was awful. So i gave Yasuo a call, asked him if he could help me out here and we gave the entire album a makeover. I still have the original mixes stashed, maybe i’ll release them on Soundcloud one day, who knows. The point of this track is: It represents the moment i realize i have to be real with the people supporting me if i want to be real with myself too.”

Lost And Found: “Lost And Found is meant to close off the album as a love letter to the fans. It’s a return to my usual style, with my faster rhymes and tempo. It’s my little way of telling you all... ‘Yes, i went through a lot of crap. I struggled, i cried a lot, i suffered and it was hell. But don’t worry guys, i’m fine. It’s all settled, and i don’t plan to go anywhere.”

Hold On, Don’t Let Go: “The bonus track is another little love letter, this time to all my friends in the industry who kept pushing me to continue and encourage me to not give up. Akali’s there, obviously, she’s got an entire verse. Ahri also gave me a big pep talk when i was just starting out and shared some of her experiences with me. We’re sorta similar in some ways. There’s honestly references to a lot of people, and i know they’ll recognize them when they hear them. It’s a song filled with inside jokes and stuff we talked about, this song was made for them. So... Thanks.”

Hurt: “Ah... Hurt was literally a last minute addition. Seraphine got the wrong schedule and came to the studio when we were adding the last touches to the album, but we let her stay anyway since K/DA’s time was just half an hour away. She had her guitar with her and i asked her if i could give it some strums to try something out. The rest of the song just came on its’ own, the version in the album is literally the first take we did. We weren’t even going to put it on, but it fit well with the rest of the album so in the end we included it as a hidden track.”

“As my closing comment: This was definitely my most personal album ever released, and it honestly makes me happy to know that a lot of people enjoyed it and found ways to relate to it. From the bottom of my heart: Thank you for being with me through this rollercoaster, and know that i don’t plan to go anywhere. In fact, i’m working on my next mixtape right now. So be ready for it, because the Rap Devil is here to stay.”

#━━ ❛ My blade is as sharp as my tongue ❋ ◤ IC ◢#━━ ❛ Give me a mic and I’ll give you the best damn show of your life ❋ ◤ Rap Devil ◢#tw: depression #tw: homelessness

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7-wonders · 5 years

Text

Pour One Out

Summary: After lashing out at Michael, you find yourself at the receiving end of his rage. You stand up for yourself and decide to, in the words of Tom Haverford and Donna Meagle, “treat yo’self” to a night out with friends. Alcohol and anger make for great choices, right?

Word Count: 3973

A/N & Warnings: Warnings first: Alcohol, physical violence, people being mean to each other, cussing, partying. Hi there! Once again, I’m terrible at posting this story. It’s one of my favorite long-form pieces that I’ve ever written, but I’m still incapable of sticking to a schedule. Anyways, this is part 5 of my ‘Mad Love’ series, which I’ll have linked below. Feedback is always appreciated; leave me a like, reblog, comment, or ask letting me know what you think. My inbox is always open if you want to chat :)

Read Mad Love (part one) HERE | Read Totally F***ed (part two) HERE | Read The Isle of Flightless Birds (part three) HERE | Read A Hard Day’s Night (part four) HERE

The cursor on the screen in front of you blinks constantly, silently asking you when you’re going to start typing. This essay isn’t going to write itself, but you can’t seem to muster up enough willpower to actually start putting words onto the paper. In all honesty, it’s hard to work on homework lately. Being the Antichrist’s unwilling wife and knowing of his plans for the apocalypse really makes essays on Plato’s Allegory of the Cave seem trivial, if they weren’t already trivial before this ordeal started. So you stare at the screen, zoning out while occasionally nodding your head so that it seems like you’re invested in the conversation your friends are having.

You jump when a hand touches your shoulder, staring wide-eyed at the classmate sitting next to you. She’s nice and you’ve worked with her on a few projects for this particular class, but you don’t really talk to her when it doesn’t relate to school. She smiles comfortingly at you while the rest of the group stares at you, all with different levels of bewilderment on their faces.

“What?” You ask, trying to make it seem like you weren’t on a completely different wavelength.

“We’re all getting ready to leave and I asked if you were okay. You’ve been really off recently, no offense.” The same classmate, Kate, repeats.

“I’m fine, I’ve just had a lot on my mind recently.”

“I can tell.” She jokes, gesturing to your blank screen. “I’ll send you the notes and what I’m basing my essay off of, if you want?”

“That’d be great, thank you so much.” You reply gratefully.

You hurriedly pack all of your items in your bag, not wanting to hold the group up anymore than you already have. Luckily the parking lot of the cafe you all met up at is fairly small, which means your cars are all parked next to each other. Still, the trauma from what happened that fateful night in the library parking lot has you locking the doors, jamming your seatbelt into place and driving out of the parking lot almost before everybody else has even gotten their cars started.

It’s probably not the best idea to get Chinese takeout when you’re already on a budget and you definitely have leftovers at home, but you figure you can splurge a little bit tonight. The bag that you’re carrying has you tempted to just sit in your car outside of your apartment and eat it all, but that’d be a little difficult since you have no utensils with you. So you make the trek to your apartment, which seems ever-longer with the food basically calling your name.

Unlocking your door and turning on the lights, the first thing that you see is that your cat is once again on the table, a habit that you’ve been trying to curtail for a few days now. The second thing you see, Michael Langdon petting said cat, has all thought of complaining fleeing your head.

“Jesus Christ!” You gasp, throwing your hands up in fright at the surprise intrusion. By some miracle, your food doesn’t go flying everywhere, so you place your things on the table before you do ‘accidentally’ throw them at Michael.

“Kind of the opposite, actually.” Michael smirks, placing his hands behind his back and walking towards you in the way that you hate so much.

“Michael, what the fuck are you doing here?” You huff, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “It’s Thursday, you’re literally going to see me tomorrow.”

You had actually kind of been expecting for him to show up somewhere in your life. After eating a single bite of toast before rushing out the door after your early weekend last Saturday, you knew he had been pissed. That much had been made clear when he called you Monday, as well as yesterday. A little bit of warning would have been nice, though.

“Well, seeing as how I already used my allotted two calls for the week,” his nose scrunches in distaste at the rule you had set, “I decided that I would drop in and see how my beautiful wife is doing. You never told me you had a cat.” He mentions when the little brat starts rubbing her head against Michael’s hand, begging for attention.

“It never came up in conversation.” You mutter, pushing past him so that you can take back the control of your apartment. “You dropped in, saw I’m fine, got to pet my cat; can you go now?”

Michael pouts teasingly before shrugging.

“Are you really just going to kick me out like that? You’re not a very good hostess, (Y/N).” You squeeze your eyes shut and clench your jaw, patience wearing thin with each second that Michael remains in your home.

Maybe if you had had some forewarning, been given some time to prepare for having to be around him, you wouldn’t be getting so angry. But now, not only has he invaded your home, he refuses to leave as well. Even worse is that stupid fucking smirk that is ever-present on his face. God, if you knew there wouldn’t be any consequences, you’d love to knock that look right off of his face (and maybe a few teeth out, too, although you’re sure that his Antichrist powers would grow them back right away).

“Look. I’m tired, hungry, I have a mountain of homework to do and I still have to finish my laundry. All I want to do is eat my dinner, maybe watch some Netflix while I work on homework, and then go to bed. Please, Michael, just go home.” You plead with him.

“I can help you, you know. Or you could just quit school and mo-”

“What happened to letting me have my alone time?” You question, reminding him of the contract you just went over less than a week ago. The smile fades off of his face as his blue eyes turn to a steely color, and you watch as he clenches and unclenches his fists repeatedly.

“I don’t ask for much from you, (Y/N), just for you to cherish and obey me.” You glower at him when he comes closer, attempting to push him away, but he snatches your wrists easily in one of his large hands. “Do you know how many men-- how many women worship my father? How many of them would have thrown themselves at my feet for a chance to be my bride? But no, my father had to make you as my soulmate. You, a stubborn, whiny little bitch who can’t just shut up and be grateful for the position of power you’re currently in.”

You yank your hands out of his grasp, and before you can even process it he slaps you across the face. One of his large rings caught against your lip, and you bring a hand to your face to catch the blood that’s starting to pool on the floor. Poking your tongue out at your lip, you can feel how it’s already starting to swell from the force of Michael’s hit. The man in question holds his hands up by his head, eyes wide as he pants loudly. He repeatedly shakes his head, like he’s trying to convince both you and him that he didn’t mean to hit you.

“(Y/N)-” He’s silenced when you spit at him. It lands on his cheek, and you watch with eyes blazing as the mixture of saliva and blood trails down his face.

“Get the fuck out of my apartment.” You don’t look him in the eyes, instead choosing to focus on the blood you’re cupping in your hands. When he doesn’t move, you start to yell. “Leave! I swear to God, if you don’t leave, I’ll get my landlord up here and he’ll haul your ass out!”

The door never opens, but when you look up again he’s disappeared. You’re still beyond pissed, but the adrenaline is wearing off and the throbbing in your lip is starting to become more prominent. Stumbling off to the bathroom, you get a washcloth and hold it to your lip to stop the bleeding. Somehow the cut’s not deep, it just landed in an area that produces a lot of blood. You get cleaned up fairly quickly, and within twenty minutes you’re laying on the couch with an ice pack pressed to your lip. The cat sits on your lap, kneading your thighs with her little paws.

“Next time he shows up here, claw his eyes out, okay?” You request. She blinks her large eyes at you once before yawning and rubbing her nose. “Thanks.”

Your phone chimes with a text message that you almost ignore, thinking that it’s Michael. When the name on the text isn’t just the devil emoji that you use for him and is, instead, the name of your best friend, you unlock your phone.

“Hey girl! Thirsty Thursday tonight @ Stadium House, you in?”

Stadium House, the frat house closest to the campus’ football stadium (nobody ever said frat boys were good at naming things), offers what is arguably the best Thirsty Thursday you’ve ever experienced. Frat parties aren’t normally something you enjoy going to, choosing instead to do your social drinking at friends’ houses. Even though they’re not normally your scene, you still find yourself mulling over the idea. It’s been a while since you even drank, let alone went out with your friends and drank. Besides, after the hellish past few weeks, partying doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

“Sure, we riding together?” Within seconds, she’s responded.

“OMG YAY REALLY??? Yeah we’re getting a Lyft. Wanna come over to mine and get ready/pregame?”

“Be over in 10.” You reply.

Since you both live in the same building, all you had to do is get everything together and take the elevator to her floor. The cat, although not pleased that you’re standing, quickly settles down again in your spot as you go to put the ice pack back in the freezer. As you gather the ‘essentials’ for a night out, you realize that this is the first time you’ve been genuinely excited for something since the day you were kidnapped. Locking your door behind you, you head out with a purpose: to get fucked up. Classily fucked up, but still fucked up.

Stadium House is just like you remember it from the last party you attended, which would have been almost a year ago. It’s insanely loud, with enough bass to make your teeth shake. There’s an insane amount of people that you’re sure violates some sort of fire code, none of the furniture matches, and there’s enough booze to give the entire school alcohol poisoning.You’re already mildly buzzed, the alcohol that you pregamed making you feel a good kind of fuzzy. Making your way into the kitchen to grab a beer takes twice the time that it normally would since inebriated-you likes to hug everyone that you see.

“(Y/N)!” A voice shouts. You turn around to see Kate waving at you, beckoning you towards her. “Hey! Thought you didn’t come to these types of parties?”

“Normally I don’t, but tonight I decided to.”

“God, what happened to your lip? Did somebody punch you?” You almost forgot about the cut on your face, having covered it with enough makeup to hide the bruising and swelling.

“Oh, I tripped and busted my face against the stairs earlier today.” Kate grimaces, but obviously believes it.

“Well hopefully that means you won’t bust your face while you’re drunk. Anyways, you wanna play pong with me? I need a partner.” You shrug before nodding, letting her take your hand and lead you to the living room.

All of the couches are pushed up against the walls, allowing people to sit and catch their breaths. There’s a long table set up in the middle of the room, the classic red cups creating pyramids on each side.

“Katie, you found someone!” Kate giggles and blushes when a guy slings his arm around before kissing her cheek.

“(Y/N), this is my boyfriend, Brennan. Brennan, this is (Y/N).” You both wave at each other awkwardly. “Oh my God B, do you know who (Y/N) would be absolutely great with? Lucas!”

Brennan chuckles at the look on your face.

“Kate likes to play matchmaker when she’s drunk.” He explains. “Go play then, everyone’s waiting on you.”

Kate pouts before kissing Brennan and jogging around to the side of the table that you’ve already migrated towards. Picking up a Solo cup, you glance inside to see what the poison of choice is tonight. One sniff of the clear liquid tells you that it’s vodka, and definitely not the good kind. Kate fakes a gag when you hold the cup under her nose, making you giggle.

“Guess we’ll have to play extra good, then.”

Both teams suck, but you somehow manage to eke out the win. Even with the win, you still had to down an ungodly amount of vodka. Couple that with the two beers you’ve had since starting the game, and you’re definitely feeling the effects. Everything has you laughing, from the posters on the wall and your opponents’ jokes to the outfits of some of the women here and how they all line the walls, looking for their prey. You and Kate had almost collapsed against each other when the familiar chorus of ‘oh fuck, shit, BITCH’ coursed through the entirety of the frat house. Another side effect of being drunk is just how loud you are. You know that you’re nearly yelling whenever you open your mouth, but you’ll be damned if people don’t hear what you have to say.

After the game is over, you end up heading outside to get some fresh air. A good number of people have the same idea as you, standing together in small groups. Pushing past a couple making out, you lean against the wall and pull your phone out of your back pocket. There’s a few notifications from various social medias, mainly your friends tagging you in their stories. Unfortunately, there’s also a text from Michael that simply reads ‘I’m sorry.’ The sensible part of you that remains sober tells you to not do what you’re thinking of, but since that part of you is stupid, you click on Michael’s contact anyways. It only rings twice before he picks up the phone, which makes you roll your eyes.

“Hey, are you okay? I’m so sorry about what happened earlier, I shouldn’t have done that and I’ll never do anything like that again.” You hear the words that he’s saying, but they don’t actually register with you while you wait to finally speak.

“Y’know, you’re the--the biggest jerk I’ve ever met!” You huff, sitting down on top of the cool grass.

“I know, and I deserve th-”

“No no no, mister, you listen to ME! All my friends’ boyfriends are so fucking nice, and they care about their girlfriends, and they certainly didn’t kidnap them. One of my friends even told me there’s a guy she knows that’d be--that’d be perfect for me!” You pause to take a sip of the beer in your hand. “But I had to say no, all because I’m married to the fucking Ant-Anti-crust!”

Michael’s silent while you ramble on, waiting patiently for you to finish. You snicker at your oh-so-clever wordplay, repeating ‘Anti-crust’ quietly to yourself.

“(Y/N)...are you drunk?” You sigh, humming a tune that you’re not quite sure of while you look up at the sky.

“A little bit, yeah.”

“Stay where you are, I’m going to come and get you. And don’t hang up the phone!”

“You’re so lame, Michael.” You groan loudly.

“I know I am, so incredibly lame.” He agrees with you.

“Whatever, I gotta tell my friends I’m leaving, ‘else they’ll think I got kidnapped...again.” Stumbling to your feet, you squint your eyes to spot your friends. Sure enough, the three of them are all sitting on the couch under the large oak tree. What is it with frat guys leaving couches outside? Is that like a requirement for frats?

“Why is there a couch outside?” Michael asks incredulously, and you clap a hand over your mouth when you realize that you said that out loud.

“Oops.” Your friends all wave to you, and you fall sideways on top of their laps. “H-hey guys!”

“(Y/N), where the hell did you go?”

“Oh, I kicked ASS at pong. Did you know that I’m good at pong? ‘Cuz I didn’t know I was good at pong.” Your mumble, reaching a hand up to stroke your friend’s cheek. “Anyways, I gotta go. My husband is gonna pick me up.”

You can hear Michael gasp as your friends all laugh and giggle.

“Fuck off, you don’t have a husband!” You’re about to argue before you remember that you totally should not have said that.

“You’re right, I don’t have a husband.” You agree, sobering up long enough to panic before realizing that they’re just going to think you’re joking. “Anyways, my...friend Michael is gonna pick me up.”

“(Y/N)’s gonna get DICK tonight!” She yells, making them all cheer loudly.

Before you can argue, a sleek black sports car pulls up. Michael doesn’t even have to unroll the windows for you to know that it’s him; nobody else would be driving around in a college neighborhood with a car like that. Your friends help push you up, and you grab all of your stuff from where you threw it on the ground. Your goodbyes are all long and exaggerated, all of them hugging you and kissing your cheeks before letting you leave.

You throw open the car door dramatically, sliding not-so-gracefully inside. Michael stares at you, and if you were more sober you’d try and attempt to figure out what he’s thinking. Instead you give him a wide smile, waving excitedly while you try to buckle up.

“Here, let me help you.” He says finally, easily buckling you up.

“Thank youuuuuu!” You sing out, leaning back against the cool leather.

“I, uh, brought you a water.” He hands you a bottle of water, making you gasp excitedly.

“How did you know I was thirsty! You’re the best, Mikey!” You open the bottle easily and down half the bottle in one go.

“Don’t call me that.” He’s obviously not too impressed with having to pick you up, but whatever.

“But-but I like calling you Mikey! It’s my nickname for you! Isn’t that what married couples do? They have nicknames for each other!” You argue while Michael maneuvers through the deserted streets.

He decides that keeping silent is the best course of action, which makes you pout. There’s no music on, and the only sound you can hear is the engine purring. His eyes are focused on the road ahead, so you decide to creep your hand up to touch his hair, which is something you’ve always wanted to do. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, and you’re pretty sure he thinks you’re going to hit him. He flinches when your hand lands in his hair, sending you into another round of giggles while you feel his golden curls.

“So soft.” You mutter to yourself, running your hand through his hair. “Mikey, I’m gonna need you to drop your haircare routine.”

“Tomorrow.”

“We’re at my apartment! How do you know where I live?”

“I was here four hours ago.” You hum, nodding.

“Riiiiiight.” You basically fling yourself out of the car, bouncing on your heels while you wait for Michael to catch up to you.

He politely slides his arm around yours, keeping you steady while you both make your way to your apartment. Standing still in the elevator makes you realize just how tired you are and you yawn repeatedly and rub your eyes, undoubtedly smudging your eye makeup.

“Drink the rest of your water, please.” Michael requests, gesturing to the near-empty bottle you’re still holding.

You do as he says, letting him guide you to your apartment door. He opens it without using a key, and you look at him with wide eyes.

“Oh no, did I leave the door unlocked?”

“No (Y/N), I unlocked it with my magic.”

“That’s right, I forgot about that! That’s how you left so quickly after you slapped the shit outta me.” Michael winces at your words, but you ignore him and walk into the apartment. “Hi, kitty kitty!” You greet the cat, who doesn’t even bother to wake up.

“Go get some pajamas on, I want to make sure you make it to bed alright before I leave.” You glare at him, but do as he says. When the cat hears his voice, she eagerly jumps up and hops off of the couch, padding towards him and meowing. You stop at the sight, mouth hanging open while he crouches down to pet the cat.

“What the fuck?” You whisper, and Michael has to stifle a laugh when tears start to fill your eyes. “You little traitor.”

Michael remains on the floor while you get changed, giving his attention to the small cat. When it’s been a couple of minutes with no sign of you, he begins to get a little concerned. What trouble can a drunk person get up to when they’re just getting changed. Michael stands up, cautiously making his way to your bedroom. If you are still changing he really doesn’t want to walk in on you, knowing that there will be absolute hell to pay. His concerns are instantly wiped away when he sees you laying in your bed, eyes already closed.

“(Y/N).” Michael whispers, shaking your shoulder. You groan and try to push him away. “(Y/N), you still have makeup on.”

He’s not sure you string together a full sentence, but he does make out the words ‘makeup wipes’ and ‘bathroom,’ which is all that he needs. Thankfully you left the package of makeup wipes on the counter before you left for the evening. Pulling one out of the package, he walks back into your room and crouches next to you. Your nose crinkles at the feeling of the cool cloth against your skin, and your eyes flutter open before closing so he can take your eye makeup off. When he reaches your bottom lip and chin, he frowns.

“I am so sorry.” He apologizes before he starts cleaning your lipstick off. You both know that he’s not just apologizing for the hiss of pain that escapes your mouth.

“You’re so mean, you know that?” You mumble, licking your chapped lips while Michael examines the damage.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know why I did that. I’ve never hit anyone before.” He’s telling the truth; he’s murdered people and animals before, obliterated people’s souls, but he’s never slapped anyone. If there’s one useful thing his grandma taught him while growing up, it’s that you never hit a woman.

“You did it because you’re mean.”

“I promise you, (Y/N), that I’ll never lay a hand on you like that again.” You look at him from under your lashes, causing his heart to clench painfully.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Your eyes close again, and Michael gets up to throw the makeup wipe away.

When he comes back into your room, you’re already asleep. Michael smiles at the small snores that escape you and how absolutely comfy you look, slipping out to grab you some water and pain meds for the morning. Placing it on your bedside table, he spares one last glance at you before going to leave, petting the cat once more and disappearing again.

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#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon imagines #Michael Langdon imagine #ahs #ahs apocalypse #ahs imagine #american horror story #american horror story imagine #American horror story apocalypse

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favescandis · 5 years

Photo

Mads Mikkelsen in AUGUSTMAN SG

Photos by Carlos Serraro. Words by Alexandra Pollard/Farhan Shah (June 2019)

article also found on augustman.com:

THE ENIGMATIC MADS MIKKELSEN IS HAVING A MOMENT THIS YEAR

“In many ways, it was the most physical thing I’ve ever done,” says Mads Mikkelsen of his film, Arctic, the gruelling tale of a man stranded in the snowy wilderness. “Ever.” It’s a big claim, especially coming from Mikkelsen. For one thing, the Danish actor had started out as a gymnast, then spent a decade as a dancer before quitting to study drama in 1996. He was already 31 at this point, but it didn’t take him long to make his mark – that same year, he appeared in the first of Nicolas Winding Refn’s acclaimed Pusher trilogy as a troubled heroin dealer, a role he reprised in 2004 to critical acclaim. In 2006, he broke out worldwide as eye-bleeding villain Le Chiffre in the Bond film Casino Royale. Later came The Hunt (2012) – a forthright and hauntingly nuanced portrait of a man falsely accused of child sexual abuse – and more mainstream fare, such as Marvel’s Doctor Strange, and Rogue One: A Star Wars Story.

And Arctic? It’s one of those sleeper hits that, much like a stone rolling down a steep snowy slope, has increasingly garnered acclaim from plaudits and audiences alike, long after its run in the cinema has ended. Much of this can be attributed to Mikkelsen, who is a riveting tour de force. It’s the type of film that sinks or swims based on the performance of one person. Mikkelsen hauls the film on his back and drags it along the ice to its very thrilling end. If anything, it very much resembles a certain A-List actor who goes by the moniker Leo and his performance in the harrowing The Revenant.

A Quiet Danish The 53-year-old has built a career on bringing gruff gravitas to smaller films, and a left-field sensibility – helped by his inscrutable face, all high cheekbones and distinctive pout – to mainstream ones. But today, he doesn’t want to talk about any of that. He is here to talk about Arctic. And only Arctic.

In fact, Mikkelsen won’t even roam into Arctic-adjacent territory. I mention a recent interview, in which he contested the idea that there’s a message about climate change wrapped up in the film’s stark survivalist narrative.

“That’s not what the film is about, that’s not the reason we made the film,” he says. “It’s a film about the difference between surviving and being alive. It’s a film about humanity.” Does he feel that in the current climate, both literally and politically speaking, people are increasingly seeing allegories that aren’t necessarily there? “I know exactly what you’re talking about, it’s The Guardian,” he says. “Of course that writer chose to make it what he wants, so I’m not making that mistake again. I’m talking about this film, and that’s it.”

So he doesn’t want to talk about anything else except the film? “No, because it always turns out to be the main message in the interview, and I’m not walking into that trap again.”

I can see why Mikkelsen is so cautious – that interview certainly contained some contentious quotes – though I find it hard to see how he was “trapped��. After all, surely nobody forced him to say: “Yeah, the climate is changing, but to what degree are we a part of it, and to what degree are we not and what to do about that is a big question. I mean the science is divided. Right now it seems like it’s not, but it is divided.” He went on to suggest that nuclear energy was a possible solution, “but nobody wants to have a talk about that”. When the interviewer brought up #MeToo, Mikkelsen said he was “reluctant to go there”, citing the response to a 2017 Matt Damon interview – in which he suggested that sexual misconduct allegations be treated on a “spectrum of behaviour” – as evidence that “this is not a healthy discussion any more”.

Does he feel he was misquoted? “Basically what I was trying to tell him is that when there is a conflict in the world, which there always is, and there is definitely now, the problem is the real lack of communication between the two sides. And it seems to be that nobody is really interested in having that conversation, and that communication. And that’s all I have to say about that subject.” I breeze past the mild irony in what he’s just said.

I had wanted to ask him his thoughts on the progress of diversity in Hollywood, given that he’s been involved in three major franchises – Bond, Star Wars and Marvel – all of which are having to confront historical deficiencies in that regard. “I have tons to say about that,” he says, “but not in this interview. I’m trying to sell a film that I’m immensely proud of, and I know that it will drown unless we just stick to the subject.”

Into The Wilderness Back to the film, then. Thankfully, it’s a very good one. Aside from the brief, startling appearance of a polar bear (“It was a so-called ‘semi-trained’ polar bear, and that little giveaway told us absolutely not to go anywhere near it”), Arctic is a two-hander. In fact, Mikkelsen’s Overgård spends the first third entirely alone. We observe him going through the motions of his daily ritual – catching fish, carving out “SOS” in huge letters in the snow, checking his radio transmitter for signs of life – though he seems to have given up hope of being found. “He’s just there, he’s existing,” says Mikkelsen. “He’s surviving, rather than being alive.”

In another interview, the Danish actor revealed that he walked for 12 to 13 hours every day for the film. “Just to get the amount of calories [for that] was impossible. So I just forgot to eat that much and got weaker and weaker from day one.” Much like how his character become more and more frail as the film progressed.

It was crucial to Mikkelsen that the movie not fall into the “flashback trap”. We learn very little about the protagonist, what his life was like before his helicopter crashed. “In the ’80s, we started doing flashbacks and then everyone fell in love with that,” says Mikkelsen. The way he sees it, almost every film these days uses that structure. Or, at least, has the lead character regaling another with the story of their past.

“It becomes a problem when we think it is a necessity, that we have to know that he has two blonde boys back home who are waiting for papa to come home. I mean, seriously, isn’t it heartbreaking enough? Do we really have to see these two kids crying back home? Can’t we just imagine how painful it is for everyone? I think that is the strength of this film, not to play the violins of emotions. And another thing, if we place him in a world that is very precise, it wouldn’t be me and you up there, it would be him, and we wanted it to be me and you in this situation. We wanted it to be a film about humanity and not a film about a specific person.”

If at first it is us and him, soon a third party enters the picture. When another helicopter crashes nearby, killing the pilot instantly, Overgård is given a reason to live. A young woman (María Thelma), the only other person in the helicopter, is badly injured but alive. Helping her survive becomes his only goal. “His humanity starts coming back to him,” says Mikkelsen. “He becomes, slowly, more and more alive.”

When Thelma turned up for her first day of filming, Mikkelsen was elated. “That was the happiest day on set when she came,” he said. “I had spent so much time alone at that point, I was going crazy. Having an actor to talk to and go through ideas with was just a gift from heaven. And obviously for the character himself, it was also the best day of his life. Even though what happened was a disaster, it was also a gigantic gift.”

An Atypical Arc I was a little worried, when we first meet the woman (we never properly learn her name), that the film was going to turn into a romance. “I had the exact same feeling reading the script,” chuckles Mikkelsen, newly convivial, clearly happy to be back on topic. “She appeared and I was like, ‘Uh oh, here we go!’ I was so pleased it didn’t happen. If they’d spent 10 years out there, maybe it would have gone a different way, but that’s not the situation here. It’s absolutely not the first thing on your mind when you’re in a situation like this one. So yes, I was as pleased as you.”

There are moments of intimacy between them, though. At one point, when Overgård is laying the unconscious woman out onto a makeshift bed in his helicopter, he holds on to her for a moment longer than is strictly necessary. “It’s one of my favourite moments in the film,” says Mikkelsen. “It just came out of that situation actually, I was trying to lay her down on that bed, and then I realised that he would… he’s been craving this intimacy, another human being hasn’t been here for so long, so he just did it. It’s so beautiful. Not until we released the film… there were a few people commenting on that moment, in this era, [suggesting] that that could have been mistaken, but we never thought about that. We just thought it was such a beautiful moment.”

It’s not just because he’s had his fingers burnt that Mikkelsen only wants to talk about this film. He is evidently chuffed with it – particularly how it conveys with only the sparsest of dialogue the very essence of humanity and our need for connection. “It takes two to tango, it takes two people to become human,” he says. “It’s very, very difficult to be a human being all by yourself. So that’s the story we wanted to tell. In many ways, she’s the one saving him.”

Arctic is not the only glacial title that Mikkelsen acted in this year. He was also the lead in the Netflix film Polar, which has nothing to do with ice in spite of its name. It’s a return to form for Mikkelsen, who had been somewhat in the shadows for the past two years. But in some respects, Mikkelsen has perhaps come to grips with the new world now. And is ready to demonstrate to the younger audience why he’s always been known as the actor’s actor.

by Farhan Shah

#Mads Mikkelsen #AUGUSTMAN SG #Magazines #The Arctic

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prairiedust · 5 years

Text

Red or Green? The literary and folk themes of Oroborous

Red or green is the official state question of New Mexico as ratified by the legislature in 1996. Order anything at any restaurant, even a burger in some places, and you’ll likely be asked “Red or green?” Do you want red chile sauce on your entree, or do you prefer green chile? The “state question” can sometimes reveal geographical origins-- red sauce is supposedly favored in the northern half of the state, while green is more popular in the south (I lived in the south, and you could easily get either one anywhere so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ .) The best green chiles are grown in the south, so maybe that has something to do with it-- like wine grapes, chiles from different parts of the state have different flavor profiles. Green chiles from the Hatch area are world famous.

But it’s important to remember that the sauces are made from the exact same fruit. The difference is all in the timing. Green chiles are harvested early, unripe, then roasted and chopped up and canned or put in the freezer, whereas red sauce is made from chiles that have been allowed to ripen fully and are then (typically) dried.

It’s all about timing. Let your chiles stay on the plant too long, and you miss your chance at the magical elixir that is green chile sauce.

Timing.

The sister stories of Snow White and Sleeping Beauty are, to a great extent, about timing. They are about waiting, about vigils, and about being at the right place at the right time-- or the exact wrong time.

(If you have not already read this rundown of Snow White in season 14, I suggest at least reading a few of the translations of the original folktales here or here. And cw the Sleeping Beauty story called Sun Moon and Talia is dark. I’ll be discussing the difference between the original material and the Disneyfied stories somewhat. Usual disclaimer that this is lit crit and not spec, why you ask, because I am a hundred years old is why.)

I want to say first that Steve Yockey in Ouroboros did a truly wonderful job allegorizing the story of Snow White, which has been teased for a while now. In the Grimms’ Snow White, as in other tales of that type, Snow White has been 1. run into the wilderness by her stepmother, B. taken in by a group of dwarfs, Three: then poisoned by that stepmother and fourthly laid to rest in a glass coffin. While the story has been poked at over the course of several episodes, Yockey sums it all up again in this one.

Dean-- along with the rest of TFW 2.0-- has been traipsing around New Mexico looking for a peculiar monster. Trope one. From the screen shot it looks like they’ve possibly been through Clovis, Roswell, Albuquerque, and finally made it up to Raton. As far as wildernesses and in-between places go, New Mexico is the most liminal state in the union-- many people in the country think it’s part of Mexico and if you think that’s a joke when I was a senior looking at colleges I had two well respected schools send me their foreign student applications. Roswell. AAAAaaaaahhhh Roswell. Roswell is the city that straddles reality and science fiction. They fry ice cream in New Mexico, they eat both ripe and unripe chiles there, and they have old mountain forests and arid white sand deserts within fifty miles of one another.

Another nod to the Snow White story is the Ma’lek Box that Dean mentions again-- B-- it can be seen as an allusion to Snow White’s glass coffin (in other versions, it is merely ornate or sometimes bedecked in rare gems but it is definitely something that she alone can not get out of… being dead and all...)

Finally, when the Gorgon knocks him out and Michael escapes, Sam tends Dean’s wounds while he is unconscious, which fulfills the traditional Snow White requirement for someone other than the king/prince to affect a physical change in the heroine’s state-- cutting off an enchanted dress or jostling the coffin so that the bite of poisoned apple can be coughed out-- in order to bring her back to life. Walt Disney and his studio added the “first love’s kiss” into the Snow White matrix in 1938, not even a century ago, but it quickly took over the narrative-- Disney also brings the story into a more accessible reality for modern viewers, he introduces the prince into the actual storyline earlier than in the folk tale, and then has him awaken her with The Kiss. Which do we, as an audience, prefer? The rabbit-hole of darker, more psychological Snow White tale types, or Disney’s recent and overwhelmingly iconic romantic reimagining?

Red or green?

Yockey gave us green, the version that has not ripened into what most people know as Snow White through the Disney cinematic behemoth.

The other duality in this episode is that we have Sleeping Beauty being referenced simultaneously with Snow White’s allegory.

Sleeping Beauty is Cas’ story and elements from that tale type can be seen in how the Gorgon stalks and overcomes his prey. The Gorgon uses sex to snare a human for consumption-- he says he’s an opportunist but that women have begun to be more cautious now that they are “waking up” from a long period of oppression. Sleeping Beauty’s deep sleep comes as the result of a symbolic sexual awakening-- in the more recent stories that awakening comes from the machinations of an enemy, so it is more a violation than a sudden innocent awareness. Where am I going with this? I don’t even know, this seems like it belongs in a different essay. What I’m trying to say is that the Gorgon uses sex to put people into a state of paralysis, and the evil fairy (known in the Disney movie as Maleficent) used a sexual metaphor to lure Briar Rose to her doom before she was ready for that kind of encounter. We are asked to contemplate the symbolic aspect of the Gorgon’s predation because he also uses a symbolic act-- eating eyeballs-- to see into the future and thus subvert the natural order of time.

In Sleeping Beauty, the evil crone/Maleficent also subverts the timeline by jumping place in line. She was not invited to the party in honor of the infant princess, but after nearly all of the other wise women have given Briar Rose their blessings, she breaks in to curse the baby. There is always one fairy left who, while not powerful enough to nullify the curse, can modify it to a deep sleep instead of death. In Ouroboros, TFW2 exploits the fact that Cas and Jack exist outside of the workings of Fate to defeat the Gorgon, but not without great cost.

Which brings us to The Wrong Kiss. I didn’t even want to meta the Sleeping Beauty stuff because of the kiss, seriously. So. What happens to Briar Rose is tragic, but in the three most famous versions of the story she comes out of her enchantment because a prince falls in love with her. Jack, here, as a result of Cas’ deal with the Empty, is no longer in the Sleeping Beauty story, he is not a Prince but a Giant-Killer once more, and the antidote he administers to counteract the Gorgon’s venom will not work. Once he activates his giant-killing powers, he can heal Castiel. (In the reciprocal, Cas is an agent of the SB story and the antidote works on the dude the Gorgon was about to eat because Cas administers it. It’s a very meta way of treating the folklore theme by both subverting it and keeping certain characters strictly within the parameters.)

Jack finally lives up to his name as a Giant-Killer when he takes out Michael. In Appalachian and English Jack Tales, Jack is always clever, sometimes to the point of unscrupulousness, but in the story Jack and the Beanstalk he is a naive picaro who betters his circumstances through reliance on his simple nature as much as his wits. Often “Jack” does not change as a result of his adventures, as most fairytale heroes do, but like many other mythological tricksters he operates outside the bounds of normal morality. Jack Kline has managed to hold onto his innocence despite initiation into the Winchester clan. Now that Jack has, presumably, burned off some large portion of his soul, it will be interesting to see how his picaresque nature might actually change. Because the story of Jack the Giant-Killer? Not the same story as Jack and the Beanstalk. The Giant-Killer is the story of a deadly clever young man who defeats several giants as well as Lucifer using mainly his wits and is afterward given a place on King Arthur’s Round Table. The story in its entirety borrows from Cornish, Welsh, and Briton mythology, echoing other simple folktales as well as hearkening to high heroes of the Mabinogi. Jack has become larger than life. (AN I started this before Peace of Mind, I’ll get to that one by the end of the season maybe :P )

In a less meta sense of course, this episode is one huge mythological allusion-- Cas refers to Dean’s imprisonment of Michael as a “herculean” feat, the MOTW is a Gorgon (and traditionally gorgons were a trio of cursed sisters in Greek legends,) and Dean enthusiastically references the 1981 Clash of the Titans film twice. In a /more/ meta vein, Andrew Dabb quotes the more recent Titans movie in a tweet on this ep’s airdate. I find that exciting because the story of Perseus in CotT features a descent into the underworld, and again while I flirt with speculation here I would REALLY like to see these nerds freaking raid the Empty.

As for Snow White and Sleeping Beauty now? Red or green?

It feels as though the Snow White story has possibly been tied up and tucked away now, solving the riddle of the “red or green” sister stories. Michael, Dean’s evil rival, is dead. Pretty sure. Whether his grace is contaminated and will have an adverse effect on Jack remains to be seen. See drsilverfish’s lovely analysis of the oroborous symbolism in the last two episodes for more discussion about what it means for Jack to have consumed Michael’s grace. But. Unless there is a Ghost of AU!Michael coming up, he’s gone.

We are left, however, with Cas’ deal with the Empty-- he gets to operate under normal parameters as long as he does not exceed the minimum threshold of happiness (and I want it to be an accidental or unexpected moment, unlike a lot of meta writers, but then that isn’t spec it’s just what I hope for.) And what does that mean for destiel subtext? I don’t know. Honestly, this is a little too intense for me, I am not “canon positive” or “endgame positive” and this episode freaked me out. Analytically, though, it places the subtext at a really interesting place. It means the princess who gets rescued from an enchanted doom is still on the loose, still avoiding Fate, and the prince is still out there having Adventures in the Woods. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#the folklore of supernatural #snow white #sleeping beauty #sister stories #spn meta #the title of the next episode is killgingg me

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buffster · 5 years

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Superstar (BTVS 4.17)

This is part of my ongoing Buffyverse Project, where I write notes/meta for every episode in an attempt to better understand the characters and themes of the shows. You can find the BTVS list here and the ATS list here. Gifs are not mine.

I get the feeling Superstar isn’t a beloved episode of Buffy, but for me it’s one of the better filler episodes. It creates an allegory of the human experience and turns it into an entertaining (almost) hour of television. I’m here for it. And adding scenes of Jonathan to the opening credits made it really immersive and was a nice touch.

The episode is even more interesting when you know where Jonathan is headed in this series. It’s almost baffling that Buffy and company missed the danger Jonathan posed. It’s been proven before that you don’t need to be an evil genius to create disaster when you mix emotions and magic (Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered, anyone?), and yet they don’t concern themselves when a clearly emotionally unstable man is using magic to solve his problems. They just aren’t the proactive types. I get that they’re college students with lives of their own, but it is Buffy’s job to protect the world. I don’t think it takes that much of an intellectual leap to realize someone who has tried petty revenge, suicide, and now enslaving the entire population could try even worse options in the future. Then again, I suppose season six is all about the underestimated villains.

The show also glosses over the darker aspects of Jonathan’s decision, such as the twins living with him.

Jonathan: You got two of them and that second one was ready for you. You should feel pretty good

Buffy: But I let one get by me.

Jonathan: Don't worry so much. You know it only matters that you do your best.

Buffy: But that’s just it. I don’t think it was my--

I sympathize with him because it’s clear he’s basically a good person with a terrible self-esteem (and no friends). It’s not hard to read the overcompensation in making yourself the best at everything, but when others feel insecure around him he doesn’t take the opportunity to crush them. He is reassuring and supportive. Xander specifically says Jonathan made him feel good about himself. He also almost sacrifices himself when he thinks the demon might kill Buffy. I think he would have absolutely loved being in the Scooby Gang and could have been a good friend for Xander. Unlike Warren, he doesn’t want domination and control but just a few friends and maybe to feel worthwhile.

Buffy: It's all Faith's fault. She's like poison. No, worse, like acid that eats through everything. Or maybe a bomb. The point is, everything's going great with Riley and then she comes along and messes it all up.

Jonathan: Buffy, you know what I think? I don't think this is about you being angry with Faith. I think you're angry with Riley.

Buffy: Riley?

Jonathan: Sure. I mean, you have this amazing connection with him. And then at the one moment when it matters most, he looks into your eyes and he doesn't even see it's not you looking back at him.

Buffy: Oh. But... but he couldn't have known. I mean, you don't just go, "hey, that's not your body. Get out of that body with your hands up!”

Jonathan: I know you know that. But you have to believe it. Buffy, if any part of you is blaming Riley for what happened, well then, it seems like there's a part of you that needs to forgive him.

Jonathan actually gives pretty good advice and seems to have taken Willow’s place as Buffy’s best friend. Buffy decides she trusts Riley and is willing to move on.

We get a bit more information about Adam. He has a small reservoir of Uranium 235 that will last forever, meaning cutting off his head won’t kill him. I get what they were going for with the villain this season: just as adult life is ripping the gang apart, a villain comes along to unite the demons. But I don’t think they did it that well. In the beginning of the season we saw several clues the gang was splitting a bit, but by the middle of the season they seem basically fine. I’ll see if I think they write the split convincingly in the next few episodes.

The season overall just feels...underdeveloped. The potential is there to really get in to the pros and cons of group dynamics (with the Initiative, Adam’s crew, and The Scoobies all playing a part) but it’s just not there. They also resort to telling us how badass Adam is rather than showing us. At this point in the season he’s just boring. I don’t feel the apprehension I felt with The Master, Angelus, The Mayor, or (later) Glory.

Anya: Oh. Um buck up, you. You kill the best. Go you. Kill kill.

Buffy: Actually, not needing the validation. But, thanks. It's just... he's too perfect and...I don't know...

Buffy’s slayer instincts eventually help her realize something isn’t right in Jonathan world. True to character, the constant hits to her self-esteem don’t phase her--it’s when another person’s life is at risk that she stands up. Riley is the first to support her.

Buffy admits she gets why Jonathan did this and tells him he can’t keep trying to get things the easy way. She’s 100% right there (and it’s a lesson Willow needs as well). At the end of the day Jonathan’s problems are Jonathan’s. Just as I can say Buffy was given multiple chances to spot Jonathan as a potential danger, Jonathan was given multiple chances to see the error of his ways. With all this backstory I still say I’d rather Jonathan have taken Andrew’s place in the final season, but Jonathan will never get his redemption story.

Character Notes:

Anya Jenkins: She moans Jonathan during sex. Xander also appears to be attracted to him.

Spike: Amusingly, the sexual tension between Buffy and Spike seems to have transferred to Spike and Jonathan.

Willow Rosenberg: When walking with Buffy and Tara she awkwardly parts from the latter. She isn’t ready to reveal her relationship but it’s not exactly hard to figure out. When has the gang ever brought a random friend into the mix? It’s always been a significant other.

Xander Harris: He casts a spell easily even though Willow says it takes work. He doesn’t have any interest in making himself stronger, which I guess you could read as great self-esteem or laziness. Based on his speech in season seven it’s wisdom that kept him from trying it.

Jonathan: He went to counseling, but that’s where he got this spell. Helpful.

#superstar #jane espenson #jonathan levinson #Xander Harris #buffy summers #anya jenkins #xander/anya #Buffy/Riley #willow rosenberg #willow/tara #tara maclay #riley finn #adam #spike #buffy/spike

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cassandra-bites · 5 years

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the third issue of DIE was ... a lot. I’m only beginning to understand it, and only very imperfectly. But I keep coming back to it, and have now collected myself enough to think aloud. Spoilers beneath the cut.

DIE makes use of poetic structures from the very first issue. There are rhymes everywhere - die, lie, cry, deny, defy, dry, spy, eye. Sol wearing a die in each eye is as poetic as it is logical.

I thought I was reaching really badly, thinking of DIE in poetic terms, and gave up thinking about it. This issue makes me want to keep thinking. It’s set up as a chiasmus of sorts: it begins with dungeons and dragons and ends with a (dead) dragon and a (march into a) dungeon, and in the process the meaning of dungeon and the meaning of dragon are both radically changed.

Between the appearance of the dragon and its death, Ash ends up in a hole. It is, to cite Tolkien and his reference character in the comic, a “nasty, dirty, wet hole” -- a trench that Stephanie Hans makes immediately evocative of WWI and the trench fever the historical person named Tolkien caught there. In this fictional trench, Ash encounters four hobbit-sized soldiers: a dead ringer for Frodo who proudly displays the wedding ring that weighs on him and is never invisible, his brave Samwise-equivalent who dearly wishes to see elves and whose eyes have melted out, a dead (halved - the pun was a little gruesome) halfling named “Mister P”, and another dead, unnamed fourth friend (Merry is not a word to be applied here). After the Frodo character dictates a letter to Luthi, the wife who references the name Tolkien associated with his own wife, it becomes clear there will be no “there and back again” for him either. His death is punctuated by the appearance of an officer who wears Tolkien’s face and cites his pipe-smoking habit. He does some interesting editing work on a passage from The Hobbit, switching what was nice to what is nasty, replacing life with death:

“In a hole in the ground there lived died a hobbit an Englander. Not a nasty, dirty, wet nice hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort., but a nasty, dirty, wet hole, a charnel hole ...” (the bold bit is added in the comic; the final bit is, however, not wholly new, but a reversal of the order in which those words were originally used)

Ash recognizes the reference and the person for whom the officer stands, deconstructs the whole down to its seemingly simple, idealized, dismissible parts, recognizing that she is seeing fictional references in context - in context that is at once fictional, trope-y, and reflective of real facts of Tolkien’s biography, of the real sacrifices and horrors of war - and struggles to come to terms with the hurt she feels. The Die-representative of Tolkien responds with another transformative line: “Allegories are ugly. But poetry? Poetry is poetry, and war poetry most of all.”

This line arrested me when I first saw it, mostly because of the quadruple repetition of the word poetry in a context defined by fours: Ash has the D4 in her chest, plus there are the four dead hobbits (and four that will replace them in the closing sequence, walking into the dungeon in another flip, this time of “one does not simply walk into Mordor”). But I had zero inkling of what it could mean until I found the citation it reframes. In response to readers who insisted on reducing his books to allegories for historical events or ideas, to fixed, defined, unchanging, top-down issued references, Tolkien wrote:

“I cordially dislike allegory in all its manifestations, and always have done so since I grew old and wary enough to detect its presence. I much prefer history, true or feigned, with its varied applicability to the thought and experience of readers. I think that many confuse 'applicability' with 'allegory'; but the one resides in the freedom of the reader, and the other in the purposed domination of the author.” -- foreword to Fellowship of the Ring

Gillen thus replaces “history” with “poetry” and “war poetry” (a potential label for the issue itself), but keeps the opposition to allegories that dictate how a story should be read and interpreted.

The ending of the issue seems to reflect that desire to privilege readerly liberty, to open up a singular set of references to a question that concerns all readers - world war. (The closing image does this too, putting the reader right behind the four soldiers, as though to say - will you follow?) “Where would we have been if we were sixteen in 1914?” asks Matt. “Who volunteers to come to a dungeon?” Ash asks, concluding: “Better people than us”. The line calls back to how, in the eyes of the Frodo stand-in, she stood for the “high folks”, in contrast to the “low” “likes of us” used as cannon-fodder for "wizards and their schemes”. The final image has four Prussian hobbits, indistinguishable from the four who just died, killing the eagle sent to deliver the message for Luthi. Their officer (is he a reference too?) reads the letter, a letter any one of them would have wanted to send in the same situation, tells them they have stopped propaganda from being sent (a lie), burns the letter much like the dragon burned and gassed the four Englanders, then coolly sends them into the dungeon that is the war front, leaving the reader to reflect on ... a lot.

Like - how much of this specific situation was caused by Angela’s rush for Fair Gold to power her suit? Did the four dead ringers die because the dragon was brought out to stop her and the party? Or - what are the conditions under which fantasy and poetry are produced and consumed in the first place, and what are the costs? What is its legacy, and what of it does it choose to hide or reveal?

The repetitions of “foul” come to mind here. In this issue, foul is used first by the Frodo character as he tries to determine Ash’s allegiance (“fair or foul?”). Ash then silently characterizes herself, in her Bard/Dictator role, as foul to most people. Having dismissed elves as “dumb and obvious” in the past issue, only for the elf queen to transform into a murderous orc, Ash takes a more measured position on Tolkien here by recognizing the value of hobbits. As a result, the Master Who Looks and Talks Like Tolkien concludes she is not “entirely foul”. However one interprets this, it seems plausible that “fair and foul” could to be a question for the entire comic - two opposites held together and impossible to rend apart.

(What is fair, what is foul about the emotional manipulation the comic itself produces through Ash’s reaction, Matt’s reaction, and in the reader? Notice how the comic, by virtue of its having pages, puts the reader through the motions of closing the page on the four as they "simply walk" into Mordor, thereby putting the reader on the same side as the party on the question "who volunteers". Then there are metaphorical levels - what is foul about Angela going for FAIR gold? how shall the fair "alabaster princess" Ash reconcile herself to also being ash, ready to crumble under dragons’ breath, to the foul words that created the fouling corpse of a former lover who fairly? cursed her back? etc etc)

It looks like the next stop in the story is going to be the space of Brontë sister gaming, (a stop in a town invented by the mothers of gaming as this war-torn realm was regulated by the father of fantasy?), which starts up even more questions. But I’ve gone on long enough; looking forward to seeing how it all develops, textually and visually -

#diecomic #diecomic spoilers

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