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#which you totally do! yes! i mean you! literally nobody in this society is above it! that's just how culture works!

iheartshoyo · 14 days

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INCOMING RANT

Yoshida Shoyo is a virgin and I stand by that😤

(with proof and analysis)

I definitely could have added more info on why I think that this is so cuz I have many more things that would stand as proof so ill add on a bit more. Read below 👇🏽

this is the same text but in video format but the scenes at the back in some places can be considered as back up for my post😭

MORE ANALYSIS BELOW 👇🏽

1. Total ostracism

He was ousted since he was a kid and it lasted for centuries. He was literally TORTURED for simply existing my man did nothing to warrant this hell but oh well that's humans of the past for you. It should be known that his whole 1000+ years of life, not one soul had bothered to help or stand up for him, because nobody knows what it's like to be in his state and never bothered to sympathise with him.

2. Disgusted by humans

He has literally called humans disgusting many times, and yet it's not even the most insulting thing he has called humans. He's a certified hater to the point that he could be considered a racist(discriminates the human race and kinda every other life form in the universe)

Mostly someone would say oh but he's been alive for over a 1000 years something definitely happened. Yes something did, hate and pain and agony is what happened😭😭😭 first few centuries, were different methods of killing and torturing him, then for about 500 years I think, he was rotting away in a cell in a cave.

And then the next 500 years he was killing mfs left and right. I can safely assume that after his break from jail, when he immediately started killing the first group of humans that he met, he literally means he wanted to get rid of anyone he laid eyes on💀 Man didn't just despise, he was REVOLTED.

An important qns that could come up is what if when he was yoshida shoyo (for around 20 years). It's a very short amount of time compared to his lifespan isn't it☠️ Also not to forget the fact as I mentioned before, he was still heavily discriminated and feared. Also He was chased out of every town or village he travelled to, hence the title that he's a wanderer(along with gintoki).

(This could possibly have been the fact that the people recognised him as either the immortal demon or as the leader of Naraku) However it could also contribute to the fact that his revolutionary teachings were bothering the townsfolk's norms, thus the community unrest resulting in chasing him out.

Idc what anyone says a man who was so intensely and ruthlessly tortured would have a dead libido, man has literally experienced death like a daily occurrence. It was frequent ritual to come back from the dead, he has literally seen death and had tea with it, and is used to it he would NOT gaf about his dick which probably stays dead too with how many times he's been killed.

I could say the same for physical attraction because, firstly, his deep hate,more emphasis on DISGUST and DISCRIMINATION he holds for humans as well as for living beings on every other planet in the universe as Utsuro is well known. But as for yoshida shoyo, the compassionate man, I would consider him a man above worldly pleasures, as his immortality, past lives and wisdom(along with how tired he is of everyone) can attest to that.

3. Man beyond societal pressures and standards

Considering that he's a certified menace to society from birth till death, along with the menaces he trained. Safe to say he would not give any fucks about being socially acceptable even as yoshida shoyo he was still a force to be reckoned with, he was in no way submissive(the scene where he rushes to protect his kids amd threatens a bunch of men that he'll collapse the whole government because HE COULD).

With the way he has lived his life and all the events he has gone through, societal expectations/cues would actually mean nothing to him(along with his lifespan), He had become numb to the minds and behaviours of humans long ago. He has no need to go out of his way to do or say anything that does not please him and has no one to appease to. The only reason he surrendered when the Naraku came for him was to not jeopardize the safety of his students.

He COULD have easily fought them off, but after twenty years or so he probably got tired again of constantly running from the naraku(he did say at one point he was tired of running). And he was also confident in the beginnings of revolution and strong spirits he had sowed into the students he taught.

His teachings were considered as revolutionary and forward thinking, he took a new approach to life that breaks away from the stigmatised version of what was initially taught to young people and his method encouraged individualism and soul searching along with self sufficiency and inner peace, atleast to pack all of his teaching's purpose in a nutshell(definitely encapsulates much more than these ideas).

The new outlook he had begun to teach was seen as rebellious and as a fire that had to be snuffed out before its influence could spread. This further solidifies the idea that he was rather more taken with the notion that each individual pursues their own ambitions and their own rules of life, rather than conforming to the society's expectations upon them at the time he was a teacher. The principle of a man following his own rules set upon his own soul can be found in Gintoki as well, which were the concepts of individuality Shoyo had passed down to his students.

In the current years as far as I know nobody really judges you for your sex life but hookup culture was more "normalised" a few decades ago, cough cough millennials cough cough. E.g. sorachi making constant cherry/virgin jokes. No matter how normalised or societal standard anything maybe, shoyo was FARRRR from normal, bet that he would be the polar opposite of any type of expectation society normally has.

It's clear for us throughout gintama that shoyo viewed being alive and having a body as a burden, immensely. So it's obvious that a body that pains his soul to have would not be worried about pleasure in a physical sense. As aforementioned in the first part(twitter post), he would not even bother to think about it given his life incidents.

And as an individual, for 1. he is very mentally ill and at war within himself,

2. he's seen too many things in life and is traumatised to an unimaginable extent.

3. nobody would ever be able to truly understand or sympathise with him.

4. with the way his character is he seems self sufficient and independent, thus losing the need to find gratification in anyone else physically, emotionally and mentally.

Instead he had a lot of wisdom and knowledge to share and demonstrate to the world instead, hence his choice to become a teacher(starting/working in a temple school).

4. Not human nor programmed to be humane.

Shoyo was born human initially, but due to unforeseen circumstances he ended up becoming a being of altana or was born with altana in his blood. So from a very young age he was programmed to be much different from the average human. He himself, due to all the abuse and visceral disgust aimed towards him, stopped considering himself a human and instead became a monster, not human, and was even deprived from any sort of human normalcy. As Yoshida shoyo, he would have not valued anything the average person would, he is not normal. (in a good and bad way).

Moreover gintama has many references deep-rooted into Buddhism and Shoyo was basically akin to a monk during his teaching era.

None of his personalities via his split personality would ever delve into pleasurable ways, because, exempting his personality of yoshida shoyo, every other personality was an extension of Utsuro, who wanted nothing to do with humans and wished for the extinction of them. So excluding his hundred other extensions of his mind(personalities), his singular personality, can definitely be perceived and considered as a zen master/monk.

Heres a link to a shoyo analysis(at the end of the post), it delves into the life and character arc of yoshida shoyo, along with his connections and references to Buddhism. And importantly how his death signifies nirvana, nirvana means to break the cycle of life, and to do that, some points to achieve this are to go beyond the worldly/materialistic aspects of life, which shoyo has already mastered in my opinion. Atleast as yoshida shoyo, excluding his other personalities.

The only thing stopping him from being freed was his suffering and absolute pain which even resulted in him becoming mentally deranged. His suffering was the only thing stopping him from absolution.

In a way, Utsuro yearned for nirvana too(shoyo is no different from utsuro in the ways of his soul no matter the amount of personalities, hes still just one soul, one man), but went about it in a more "all encompassing" method💀 because his nihilism was at its peak within him, with his history of genocide as a fuel to his ambitions. He wanted to truly end not just his existence and consciousness but everything that exists as a whole. As he believed as Utsuro it would be a more fitting way to end ALL cycles once and for all (perpetuated agenda by his hatred).

In the end, obviously as he has repeatedly stated, he yearned for death, the end of the cycle. And a man who yearns for death, would not consider anything else in his life other than leaving the very body that is nothing more than a burden to him. And vehemently strived to dissolve his soul to put a full stop to the endless agony that he knows and calls life.

Link: https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSFGagoWo/

End of my post I hope that everyone realises I'm always right when it comes to my love, shoyo😝.

#gintama #yoshidashoyo #yoshidashouyou #yoshida shouyou #gintoki #katsura #utsuro #sakamoto #takasugishinsuke #takasugi #shoka sonjuku #manga #anime

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swinging-stars-from-satellites · 3 years

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idk how many people would even want to see this BUT i wanna yell about Leela and Brax so here's a list of all their scenes togethr/scenes pertainng to them that i can recall (pLEASE add on if i missed anything/ you have any additional thoughts!! i could talk about these two all day!)

right off the bat in Weapon of Choice when Leela is on the outskirts of the Citadel and Brax goes to bring her back (which is interesting in and of itself, bc usually i would imagine a chancellery guard would go do that so what made Brax decide to instead??), Leela kinda goes off at him bc she's hurting and instead of trying to actually explain what's going on Brax doesn't even try to argue he just says "we need you" which is great bc Leela has that instinctive desire to be needed and to help people and he's speaking right to that -- also as far as we know, this is Leela and Brax's first actual meeting in canon? it's implied that they know of each other, which makes sense, but it doesn't seem like they've ever directly interacted before: Brax seems almost slightly uncertain, and Leela is combative, but when he's gentle with her she's actually quite receptive

the literal next scene after that, where the OT4 is all in one room for the first time (they still kinda hate each other at this point but still !!!). Narvin explaining Gryben and being a real jerk about it and Leela (understandibly!) questions if Gryben is a prison world, and Brax (who to this point has been mostly quiet as Narvin and Romana brief Leela) jumps in to both clarify Narvin's previous xenophobic statements while also maintaining the inherent questionable/negative connotations

(btw it's actually pretty important to note that Romana self-edits herself a lot when talking to Leela, especially in the earlier seasons; you can actually hear her revising the things she says to put it in terms that she thinks Leela will better understand. and i mean she does it out of genuine consideration for her friend associate but it often comes across as varying levels of patronizing. Narvin also obviously "dumbs things down" when dealing with Leela early on, but like... Brax never does that on any level. the only difference i can tell in how he addresses Leela vs how he talks to anybody else is that he seems much more kind with her than almost anyone else???)

their conversation about the Matrix in The Inquiry: this is REALLY important (and if you've ever talked to me on ao3 i've probably gone off to you about it lol) because it's layered. they're talking about the Matrix but they're also not because in answering Leela's question Brax is making a very thinly veiled allegory (which he outright states a minute later) to Time Lord society/politicians/most importantly HIMSELF -- he's actually strangely open about his morals/beliefs in this scene and i'm living for it tbh -- and i find it very interesting that even though he does directly explain what he means ("how do you know all this?" / "because i am a politician.") he also leaves it for Leela to work out the implications. like it's a very nuanced conversation bc there's double meaning in it and most people on Gallifrey seem to think that Leela is tone-deaf and can't pick up on that stuff (even Romana sometimes oversimplifies things to her) but Brax totally just lets her take from it what she will bc he believes her intelligent enough to understand. he doesn't think her any lesser because she's human.

ALSO on a secondary note to the above: the fact that Leela has a question/needed clarification (sorry, haven't listened to this in a while i forget how it actually happened) and actively sought out Brax to talk to about it?? like she knows Romana better she could have gone to her but i feel like Leela kinda imprinted on Brax and someone she can go to for help if she needs it; maybe it's partly bc she knows he's under marginally less pressure than Romana is but also the truth of the matter is that Brax was the most genuinely helpful person to her in the previous stories and that probably means a lot to her (esp. bc he acts like the essence of everything she hates about Gallifrey but he doesn't treat her the way she would expect from that). btw this topic is gonna come up again in a hot minute

that part where Brax gives her that information that might help her re: the Andred thing, even though he really probably shouldn't have done that -- it kinda makes me think about what he must have been like with Theta tbh???

actually this is mostly my own conjecture but there's some neat stuff in Spirit bc during the *waves hand vaguely* bodyswap dream sequence thing, Romana is very "!!!! Brax can help us !!!" which is tecnically Leela brain talking, so like there's the implications of the stuff i've said above about Leela having this idea of Brax where she knows he's someone she can go to for help

can u tell i'm soft for them

Leela sounding really sad/distracted when she talks about how Brax isn't there YES i'm grasping at straws but a lot of this relationship really is conveyed through the voice acting bc of how little direct focus there is on the characters. there's actually several scenes in Mindbomb where she mentions him and she outright says that she misses him during her discussion with Matthias

that implied scene with them in Mindbomb!! i have a Lot of thoughts about that!!! it's all conjecture and fanfic fodder!!! but the reason i mention this is because it seems pretty meta that out of the whole Gally Gang, it's Leela who first sees Brax when he comes back to Gallifrey and in turn she's the first person (besides Matthias, i guess) that he sees upon his return?? idk i just feel like that's somehow a meaningful detail??? also her reaction of utter shock after spending the entire episode missing him and how worked up she is when she tries to tell Romana, like I desperately need to know what happened in this missing scene MR RICHARDS PLEASE TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED

Leela insisting on going with Brax when Pandora starts hurting him and their whole conversation there is just. so good. like they're both just so soft and then when Darkel comes in Leela instantly goes into protective mode. like they just have such an open relationship bc Brax doesn't even try to be all pretentious with her, like he doesn't even try to keep up any facades when he's with her he's just very genuine and it really says a lot about both of them -- Leela is so good at seeing people, like getting down to the core of who people are and what makes them them (which is why she's good for Romana, btw, bc Romana has a lot of identity issues) and Brax is so tangled up in who he presents himself as that he barely knows who he actually is anymore but Leela can see that and she makes it so he can truly be himself and he doesn't have to hide. also she's so gentle with him when they talk about Pandora, she's very caring and empathetic and wants to make sure he's okay and i am WEAK

it's been a hot while since i listened to Panacea but I think i remember Brax being really soft with Leela when he first brings the gang to the Axis, like just sounding really glad to see her

ok other than the fact that Brax is lowkey relatable in Reborn (daydreaming fanfic about yourself/people you know? simping for Mary Tamm Romana? yeah mood, my man) there's that scene where they're first appraoching the Citadel on the alt!Gallifrey and it seems like none of them, and Brax specifically, have seen it from the outside in a good long while bc he's very in awe and he tells Leela that he wishes she could see it and he sounds sO hEcKiNg sOFT oh my word-

and once again with Leela thinking of Brax as someone she trusts for help: in Dissassembled when everything is going to crap she straight-up says that she wants to go find Brax bc he'll know what to do/be able to help

at the beginning of Annihilation when Romana is depressed and questioning if Brax truly was her friend and Leela INSTANTLY, NO HESITATION assures her that he was; i lost where i had her exact lines written down but she actually kinda goes off to make sure Romana gets the point

literally forcing myself to talk about this bc it makes my brain stall out but like,,, the Brax Hound in Annihilation,,, Leela being like "goodbye, Braxiatel... again" she sounds so sad and like UGH i always kinda forget how sad it actually is for them to lose Brax in Dissassembled bc like, it was so sudden and they didn't get to say goodbye and Leela is always losing people and i have many many feels about this scene and how all that emotion is made very clear in how they each respond to the Hound (might make a separate post abt this later if anyone is interested ::eyes::)

Enemy Lines is utter bullcrap about these two and I will never stop being salty about how they not only sidelined the very good, very subtle friendship they had in s1-4, but they??? made Leela acutally not trust Brax??? when literally this entire time she's been the one person who probably genuinely trusts him the most?? what the heck, David

I haven't heard TW3 or 4 yet but i'm assuming there's nothing worthwhile in those with regards to this duo (correct me if i'm wrong tho lol, i would love to be mistaken in this assumption)

TL;DR Leela and Brax mututally imprinted on each other and have probably the most open and healthy relationship within the OT4 and it is an absolute CRIME that nobody besides Gary Russell and Justin Richards cared enough to actually build on it in canon

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sparkles-and-trash · 3 years

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You asked for modern atla headcanons. I am usually not that into modern AUs for ATLA, unless they’re set within the world of ATLA - unlike in other fandoms, I find it really weird when I can see a person’s highly regional lived experience stamped all over these characters. But I die for modern AUs where, for instance, Ba Sing Se has outgrown its original walls into a full-on megacity, or the Sato-style mecha - now piloted remotely - are being used by both the benders and non-benders of Republic City (non-benders trying to level the playing field, benders using all tools at their disposal to keep that from happening).

I was really disappointed by the weird political messaging of LoK and in many ways I feel like my desire to see the Gaang translated to that era or an era more similar to our own is a wish for a fixit where Toph’s not a cop and Sokka is around to push back at the assumption of bender supremacy in their society. If I wrote fic I’d write one set in a world similar to our own, with a similar anti-colonial plot as the first ATLA but with some of the conflicts of LoK season 2 added to the mix. I like the idea that the Gaang would at first be fighting an imperialist fire nation, but that Sokka (and Suki) would suck them into a more complex conflict with the world’s current power structure. They’re all in their early 20s instead of their teens - like maybe Sokka’s an engineer who ends up being scouted and initiated by a group of non-bender freedom fighters, and he has to manage his conflicting relationships with them and the Gaang. And maybe Aang and Katara don’t actually get it at first - like Aang’s like, how can you talk about supremacy when I’m literally the last of my people, and Katara’s like, all the Southern Water Tribe benders are dead or (more hopefully) imprisoned stfu, and Sokka’s like - what does it say about our world that benders are so powerful that the fire nation didn’t even consider us when they attacked the SWT - nonbenders still had to pick up the pieces though, and your life is still considered more valuable and important than mine. And Toph’s basically an shameless bender-supremacist that has to have this shit explained to her repeatedly despite the fact that she has experience being condescended to as a result of her disability. Like I want the Gaang to have a serious conflict around this but then actually come around to the idea that defeating the fire nation isn’t the only thing they need to accomplish.

Zuko would actually get it way more quickly, because he knows first hand the intimate damage bending can do, and I love to imagine Ty Lee surprising everyone by leaving Azula for this non-bender army, rather than for Mai or (tangentially) Zuko. She’d be like, yes, I will teach everyone chi blocking, and then they’ll never be as afraid of their “loved ones” as I have been. But Zuko would still be a shitty imperialist at first - just with differently shitty hair. He’d be doing more more intelligence-style stuff (basically Ozai would be like, you’re not even worthy of being called a bender, or being in charge of benders. Go sit in submarines and offices and geotag possible locations for the avatar and spy on the earth kingdom, and maybe if you find the avatar you can come home).

And at 22 Zuko would be mostly going through the motions, totally emotionally stunted, having spent all his time alone or with people he’s been taught to think were really beneath him, but he’d be slowly getting the idea that Ozai’s absolutely full of shit. “Spying” (he’s not very good at it) and spending all this time with non-benders has a)allowed him time to move in circles Azula never would (nobody but the royal family and a fire nation few nobles know about Zuko’s scar, so he’s not clocked as anything but a victim of the fire nation) and b) allowed him time to appreciate his non-bending skills (he’s still really into swords because Zuko’s always going to be a nerd) and the non-bending skills of his underlings. He starts wondering why these people are even working toward the fire nation’s goals, and then slowly realizing some of them actually aren’t - there’s a whiff of low-grade sabotage around a lot of fire nation missions, and Zuko begins to realize specific non-benders are responsible. He doesn’t immediately expose them - instead he (inexpertly) tails them to a meeting, and is promptly kidnapped by chi-blocking non-benders. Ty Lee obviously knows who he is, and while most of the leaders of the non-benders want to use him as some kind of bargaining chip with the fire nation, she nixes that idea on account of Ozai not giving a shit, and instead says, “shit, we’ll just have to imprison him.” Meanwhile Zuko’s like… this sucks but also I think you guys are onto something. Sokka (in glasses, because I love Sokka in glasses) keeps visiting him to gather intel (which he could just get from the more advantageously placed Ty Lee) and stare at him. And bring him food and films, and complain to him about the fire nation’s drone technology. And accidentally little bits of the non-bender’s plans. Eventually Zuko’s like you shouldn’t be telling me any of this, but since you are I’m going to help you with this stupid thing I think you might be planning that I know won’t work for reasons and tell you what to do instead. And Zuko saves a bunch of non-bender lives that day, so they begin to trust him more and more.

Of course this turns into yet another conflict with Katara once she and Aang are brought in on the fact that Sokka and his movement are working with the literal heir of the Fire Nation’s dictatorship. Aang is totally fine with it, and Toph (still a bender-supremacist, though humoring her friends in this new cause of theirs) is like, no, this is great, we need as many benders as we can get (Toph would be a sardonic goth if she could see colors well enough to avoid them - instead she’s just a very loyal asshole with dirty feet and a lot of brutal/abstract blackwork tattoos. She’s likes how much they scare people).

Anyway eventually they do all work together to no only unseat Ozai from his imperialist dictatorship but also begin an equalist uprising out in the open. Aang toys with taking everyone’s (and I mean everyone in the whole world’s) bending away but realizes the whole problem is benders having the power to make decisions for other people, so instead he throws himself behind the equalist cause (literally behind the leaders of the equalist cause) and says he’ll support their mechanization and their right to protect themselves (and agitate for laws wherever they live that support justice and protection for non-benders) with all the powers at his disposal. In the end they build republic city, which is envisioned as a multi-national city with non-bender representation build into its governing structure. Toph doesn’t become a cop. She goes around building literal bridges and tearing pavement out of places that shouldn’t be paved, and has three kids by different unnamed fathers and one of them is a non-bender that gets really into metallurgy but also talks a lot of loving shit to her mom.

Blah blah bah. I have overstayed my welcome in your ask box, but you got me thinking. If only I actually knew how to write!

my dude, you straight up sat down and wrote a whole ass one shot and sent it to me on anon???? you have to be an actual godsend???

nobody ever overstays their welcome in my ask box (if they're nice!), but this is above and beyond, I am blown away by how cool this is????????

I don't even know what to say tbh, and if you ever write this, or want to talk more about it, please feel free to hit me up, in any way, and I'd be stoked to hear more about it!!!

share your fav modern au head canons with me ~

#atla #atla au #Modern ATLA au #avatar the last airbender #anon #my dude #i am blown away #zuko #sokka #toph #katara #aang #just #woah

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linkspooky · 4 years

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Hi! When Best Jeanist mentions to Bakugo that if he continues this way, he is going to end up a villain, isn't it a bit ironic given that Endevor (what Bakugo could become given he values strenght above all) is the number one hero? Isn't that a proof that heroes are totally out of it because the worst would be being a villain and not just being someone harmful no matter the hero/villain dichotomy? PS: I love your Kumagawa reaction pics!

Yes, you’re right, anon. This is an idea introduced in the first arc with Shigaraki, and then explored with Best Jeanist, and Bakugo’s character. Heroes and Villains are both violent. However, Hero’s violence is tolerated, allowed, even encouraged. What Best Jeanist says is that the line between heroes and villians isn’t as clear cut as society says it is. It can be blurry at times. Often a hero can be a hair’s breadth away from being considered a villain. Endeavor is pretty much the example of that. Until Best Jeanist Bakugo has never had to confront the violence within himself, because his violence is something that he has always been praised for. I’ll explore more under the cut.

1. Bakugo and Endeavor

So Part of what makes Bakugo and Endeavor so toxic is they embody hero society’s toxicity. They are the embodiment of a person born with a strong quirk, who wants to be a hero so they can be the strongest like everyone has always said they are.

Bakugo and Endeavor basically have the same starting point. They want to be the best, because everyone has always told them they’re the best. They feel the need to prove themselves the strongest by being number one and continually chasing the number one spot.

Their pursuit of strength is based on living up to the idea of number one hero that they have for themselves. The number one hero has to be the strongest. The number one hero has to always win. They deserve to be treated as the strongest, because they work so hard at being the strongest.

They are both victims of the hero system in a way. This burning ambition to be the strongest that they are pushed to be, by the expectations of everyone around them to be strong just because they were born with a strong, flashy quirk has wrecked them. Neither of them can feel like they’re ever enough. They’ve internalized deep ideas of inferiority because they can’t ever feel like they’re good enough to live up to the expectations of everyone around them. It’s something that ultimately harms them.

Bakugo feels inferior to Deku. Enji feels inferior to All Might. They are just constantly made to feel inferior, by this system that only values them for their strength and doesn’t really see them as people. However, Bakugo and Endeavor both handle this inferiority by violently lashing out at those around him.

There is a parallel, in the way that Endeavor treats Todoroki. The way that Bakugo treats Deku. They blame their weakness on somebody else and take it out on them.

The way Bakugo nearly beats up Todoroki when he’s unconscious, because he wants to prove himself stronger than Todoroki, because Bakugo doesn’t even think about how Todoroki feels because it’s all about him, is shockingly similiar to how Enji couldn’t see how his behavior harmed Shoto.

Bakugo and Enji will violently punish people for the weakness they see in themselves. Bakugo is still a kid of course, and he has time to unlearn this behavior. However, the scary part is that hero society is so toxic it doesn’t really push Bakugo to unlearn this behavior. The violence of heroes is not only allowed and tolerated, it’s encouraged.

2. Heroes are Violent

Yes, yes, yes. The answer is yes. Bakugo should not want to be a hero because he wants to violently kill villains to prove how strong he is. That was what was wrong about his ambitions, that’s what violent about his behavior, his idea of strength comes from violently putting others down. It’s not just villains either, he’ll do it to people who don’t deserve it like Deku.

Bakugo’s idea of strength is based on hero society’s idea of strength, which is really just violence, but everyone is so in love with hero society they sort of just encourage this side of his personality. They talk about how much of a hard worker Bakugo is, or how serious he is about being a hero without ever addressing the root issue that Bakugo’s behavior harms people.

The same for Enji, who is constantly praised as the number one hero with the most resolved cases, and yet nobody ever looks seriously at the way he resolves his missions or what he’s done to his family.

The thing is villains are continually punished for their violence. When Toga, Dabi, Shigaraki, or Twice respond to violence with violence, they are labeled as violent crimminals and said the only option for them is to be violently put down.

When Enji is violent, that violence is overlooked. It’s allowed. Enji is allowed to be the number one hero, while at the same time having done what he did to his family. Enji has also committed crimminal levels of violence and domestic abuse, but because he is a hero, that violence is ignored.

Heroic violence is good, villainous violence is bad. It’s even shown that Enji brings his violence to his job. Endeavor tries to kill a teenage girl, when the mission is only to capture.

Not only that, Endeavor literally just labels anybody who is against him as a villain. The reason that Endeavor is allowed to be this way, is because his violence is considered heroic, and he’s encouraged to be this way. It’s all just violence, but certain violence gets labeled heroic and is tolerated and other violence is labeled villainous and gets punished. And it’s all just arbitrary, because Shigaraki a lifelong victim is labeled as unforgivable with no hope of recovery, whereas Enji a lifelong abuser is already forgiven just because he’s on the side of heroes.

When Shigaraki says that All Might is a tool of violent opression this is what he means. Endeavor is just a more literal application of that theory. Whatever violence Endeavor shows, even if it hurts innocent people, is allowed because he’s a tool for violently keeping down villains.

Heroes, and villains are both violent. However, the violence is categorized. Heroic violence is okay. Villainous violence is not. Enji gets away with being overly violent, and Shigaraki has to be continually punished over and over again. Even though they are both violent. One is forgiven, one is not, and it’s because of this categorization of violence.

So, what Best Jeanist brings up to Bakugo and begs him to self reflect on is that heroes are equally capable of being violent as villains are. Bakugo needs to think about his actions outside of the lens of heroes and villains, and ask himself is he being violent, is he hurting other people with his actions?

What Shigaraki says supports Best Jeanist’s idea, that everyone is so caught up in the fight of heroes against villains that nobody looks at the big picture. The heroes just assume that they’re always the good guys no matter what, so they’re unable to see themselves as capable of being violent, or contributing to a violent system at large.

Heroic violence is allowed, even encouraged, and as a result you get heroes like Enji who don’t even have to act like heroes.

Enji still unfailingly sees himself as a hero no matter what he’s done, and because of that he never really doubts or questions his actions which means he’s allowed to be as violent as he wants towards the villains. Even straight up trying to kill Shigaraki several times.

What is it that truly makes someone a hero?

That question is supposed to make Bakugo step back and reflect on his violence, and wonder if his focus is on helping others, or if he just wants to violently put down villains and prove how strong he is. Is he helping or harming?

Endeavor is allowed to be as violent as he wants. He’s still allowed the title of number one hero, therefore he’s incapable of self reflecting or seeing how he’s hurt people. His violence is always encouraged, praised. No matter what happens to him he still sees himself as a hero.

Endeavor calls Shigaraki a force of destruction, but how much has Endeavor destroyed and gotten away with?

PS: Thank you for noticing my Kumagawa pics. He’s the best boy and almost nobody knows about him. He deserves way more love! I’m glad to meet one of the 13 members of the Medaka Box Fandom.

#Anonymous #enji todoroki #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #best jeanist #metasks #my hero academia meta #my hero academia #mha meta #hero society #my hero academia theory

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fectless · 3 years

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(This is technically in response to the post right below this one, as world building totally counts for it, right?)

Anywho, more fandom thoughts, but for BLEACH this time. I recently started rewatching the anime again for the nth time as part of my language practice (and having the Japanese subtitles on while watching it in Japanese is an experience) and reached that episode where Aizen and co. get rescued by Menos Grande after declaring their intentions to Soul Society. And then a few things hit me.

The first: Rukia says, the first time Ichigo sees her sending someone on via Soul Burial, that one neither feels hunger nor gets sick in Soul Society. We know that this is false for a few reasons.

Those who can become shinigami definitely need to eat and all souls need water which implies that they can suffer from thirst (and perhaps heat exhaustion).

Captain Ukitake is suffering from an unknown disease that makes him literally cough out his lungs. I’ve read something about it being a defect in the make up of his soul that is only not killing him because of the pact with the Soul King’s arm, but I cannot recall if this was canon or fanon (as the Blood War arc was just like that). If so, does this mean that sickness does occur in Soul Society, but so rarely as to not be mentioned? Or does it occur more in the outer districts? Why does it occur?

Hisana died from a sickness as well. Yes, it’s stated to be exhaustion, but I feel like that doesn’t make sense? Like, the flashback in the anime has her abandoning Rukia after she collapses while carrying her around. And she collapses later when she regrets this and goes to look for her sister. And then she dies.

Seriously, why does it occur? It’s weird. And it cannot be an Aizen thing as I’m pretty sure Aizen is younger than Ukitake. Is it because of what happened to the soul king? Does it have something to do with when people get sent on (like if they were close to being a hollow)? Is it because they died while sick? Is it because of their resolve?

...Do we never see sick souls in Soul Society other than them because they usually just. Die pretty soon after arriving?

And if spiritual power leaking is what causes spiritual pressure, and the “vents” can be closed... do people in the districts sometimes close them by mistake and then blow up? Is spontaneous combustion a thing in the afterlife?

The second: I’m pretty sure “Ichirin no Hana” is a love song that Byakuya is singing to Hisana’s memory.

Someone has probably stated this before, but the lyrics of the song literally say how some one, a “single flower,” is precious and can’t be replaced. How that flower bloomed despite being stuck somewhere dark and how they looked lovely but like they were about to wither away. And that the singer would accept all of their pain if only that person would smile and stay with them...

The title of the song also matches the title of the chapter in which Byakuya reveals to Rukia the secrets he’d been keeping from her about Hisana. He uses the same words, “ichirin no hana” to describe the season in which she died

Literally his whole dilema during this arc, the entire way he interacted with Rukia up to this point, was that he was conflicted between his sense of duty (to his parents, his wife and keeping his word) and his feelings for his beloved Hisana. Rukia’s physical resemblance to her sister is almost uncanny and the lie she is told when she asks why she was adopted was, “You look like Byakuya’s late wife.” How much must he have hated that? A person whom he had sworn to protect that, had she arrived two years earlier might have saved his wife’s (after)life? A person that looks just like his beloved, who reminds him of her every time he sees her (for those first 50 years), but is not and never will be Hisana. And then. To know that she’s going to be executed for crimes, that she felt she could not rely upon him enough to even let him know she’d encountered trouble in the human world when he’s been doing his best to ensure she’s safe (because that is one of the few reasonable explanations for why Rukia hadn’t been promoted yet, and then was promoted during the 3 year gap)? To see her stripped of her rank, her strength even (with that collar and the stone of the prison tower). To see a small form who so resembles his beloved all listless and soon to die, wearing a white yukata like his wife had in her last days...

Watching it again made me feel things, okay? Like yeah, it seems like it’s a stupid dilema from some perspectives. Especially considering Central 46 had a run in with Aizen by then, but. Byakuya was raised in the Seireitei. He was raised knowing that his life was the Seireitei’s tool. That his duty, his reason for existing was for the sake of his family’s honor, so he must be composed, must act as the family and Soul Society bid him. That’s some mighty powerful brainwashing/indoctrination right there. And he broke it once already to marry some nobody from the slums. He did something not only against the norms, but something selfish. Maybe if she’d had high spiritual power this would have been accepted, but she was sickly and likely did not. He went against the clan elders who had probably instilled obedience in him since birth and was afraid of doing it again.

(And if you count the filler arcs, you can bet that they held that one Kuchiki who went traitor against him too. Like: “he married that Hisana girl against our orders? What next? Will he betray Soul Society too?”)

And maybe I’m making a bigger deal out of his upbringing than I need to. Maybe it wasn’t really like this. But I feel like it really was. (Moreso with the filler arcs and what I’ve heard of the light novels.)

Also, this song and the way that the opening animation fit together really solidifies the whole “Ichigo and Rukia were always meant to have a tragic romance” vibe that I kept getting the first time I encountered this series.

The third: Rukia was likely younger than six months (physically) when she was abandoned, but I’m pretty sure that she was older than three months when she and Hisana died.

Her blanket was pink in the flashback.

Sure, the above might not seem to have much significance but it’s been proven in canon that clothes are part of oneself. I reblogged a post a while ago that went into detail, but to sum it up, clothes are part of your self image and your self image determines a bit about what you look like when you die.

Babies are usually no longer swaddled by the time they’re six months old, and some places recommend that you stop by the end of their second month.

Babies have pretty bad vision when they’re born. They take four to six months to reliably track objects in motion and use binocular vision decently. They take about four months to see across a room, and about two months to see farther than maybe 30 cm away. And around the three month mark, they start having decent color vision. Around then is when babies supposedly start showing color preference.

Babies tend to have poor long term memory. (To be fair, they’ve got a lot going on compared to being in the womb and sensory overload sucks.) Their memory by the age of six months is only a few weeks. Two months old had a memory span of a few days.

If she’s been consistently wrapped in a pink blanket, then by the time she’s old enough to see color, she would be old enough to remember what color her blanket usually is— or if it was a different color that particular day.

The fourth: when Gin raises his spiritual pressure on Aizen’s orders, Chad remains standing. This raised a bunch of questions as Gin is stronger than Yammy (to the best of my memory).

Chad remained standing. Yes, his whole fight with Captain Kyouraku was about his resolve and how he would stand by his friends and fight for their safety/ideals but. Like. Earlier that year, his spiritual strength was on par with Yuzu. He’d been friends with Ichigo for years which was why he was even that strong. He’d been in a Hollow attack maybe three times before Rukia was arrested and could only barely see them the time Ishida pulled a stupid and used Hollow Bait. Sure, he has experience fighting and he’d trained under Yoruichi, but it feels sus considering how the others fared.

Orihime fell to her knees pretty quickly after Gin turned up the pressure. She’d also fought against high-ranking shinigami at that point, and trained under Yoruichi, and fought off Hollow (alone even! And she was the reason why Sora moved on, despite Ichigo’s Blade purifying him) before. And yet... It could just be a lack of resolve, as that had come up in earlier chapters but it doesn’t feel right.

Ishida is excused from this due to circumstances.

Tatsuki has been friends with him for ages. Sure, it seems like they weren’t as close after his Mom’s passing, but by then they’d already known each other for quite some time. I’m pretty sure that they were hanging out semi-regularly through junior high/middle school, at which point he got close with Chad and she got close with Orihime. She also has experience fighting (admittedly in martial arts rather than the street fights Ichigo and Chad get dragged into). She experienced at least one hollow attack during Ishida’s Stupid Day. But she collapses as soon as Yammy shows up? That feels off.

In contrast, Ganju was struggling about the same amount. He was born to a noble family— who are known to typically have decently high spiritual power, like his older brother Kaien and his cousin/uncle Issin. He was raised in the Rukongai, meaning he likely came across Hollow attacks. (And those definitely occur.)

Makes me wonder things about Karin’s strength. Like, she managed to escape from the hollow who attacked their house to run for Ichigo’s help (manga) or lived long enough while alone with it that Ichigo and Rukia could come save her (anime), both of which are quite impressive for an eleven year old. She also kept up with Hitsugaya when they played soccer and he’s a captain. Based on Ichigo’s experience, it’s likely that she too will become stronger as she grows up. And does she have an inner hollow too, or is that Ichigo only? If White was simply a parasite and decided to stick to Ichigo I could accept it. But as a hollow Ichigo is a Vast Lorde, and hollows of that level can split into parts (like Starrk and Lilynette).

Does Yuzu not really have any spiritual strength because she inherited more of the Quincy genes from her mom and the hollow genes she inherited don’t balance out that same way it does in her siblings...? Food for thought.

TLDR: how and why is sickness as thing in Soul Society? Byakuya listens to rock music and I’m p. sure the third opening song is him angsting over his wife’s death; it also gave me strong feelings about how he was prolly brainwashed growing up so his angst over Rukia’s fate is not actually stupid. I continue to have IchiRuki feels. Rukia and Hisana died when Rukia was about 3 months old. And I am more confused now about how spiritual power works than I was before I started rewatching the anime for language practice. Also, more questions have arisen about hollows.

#bleach meta #bleach anime #remind me to look into Japanese textiles and dyes during Meiji era #maybe I should have split this into multiple posts...#long post #wish I knew how read mores can be put in on mobile #this is more than 3 sentences #bleach

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santaclausdeadindian · 3 years

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Sorry for doing it this way, I think OP deleted their post or blocked me like a mature, balanced person would, so I have to tag you in

@mr-laugh

Oh boy, lot to unpack here.

So you didn’t even know there were that many subgenres of fantasy, one of the most popular classifications of fiction on the planet... And you think you know enough to tell ANYBODY what classic fantasy is?

And where exactly I attempted to do that, huh?

If you don’t even know the most common subgenres of this vast pool of fiction, why are you jumping into this discussion? You just admitted you don’t know anything!

There is no discussion, there is a stupid ass post. Don't flatter yourself, you don't know jack shit.

Me not knowing what exactly are the precize subgenres of a genre of literature, which, btw, are completely arbitrary and for your information, sword&magic is a legitimate category, has absolutely nothing to do with what that post you were so keen on agreeing with above. It was you who said pretty much any classic fantasy is like that: some poorly written, self-indulgent and borderline racist.

Did ya read the link, buddy? Howard talked about knowing what burning black man smelled like. He was quite approving of these things! And the books are pretty racist, it’s not hard to see, unless you ain’t looking.

Yes, I started reading and by the end of the first paragraph I was convinced he was ahorribly racist man. And? Still doesn't change the fact, that for my 12 year old self, there was nothing racist about it. I definetly wasn't looking for it, that much you got right. If I'd read it again, I'm sure I'd catch on to it now, that I know what kind of asshole he was. So the implied racism would be there. You got a point for that.

Rugged individualism? It always amuses me how that argument always pops out of the mouths of guys who are aping what they’ve heard their buddies say. If ten thousand mouths shout “rugged individualism”, how individualistic are they?

Then you should amuse yourself by looking up why this thing crops up as of late. It's coming from certain, supremely racist yet unaware of it publications that claim ridiculous shit like "rugged individualism" is a hallmark of white supremacy, among other, equally laughable things, like punctuality. It's a joke.

Again, I will give Howard to you, if someone that racist writes a black man saving the hero of the story, I bet there was something else still there to make it wrong.

Conan’s not some avatar of rugged individualism.

Uhm, yeah, he pretty much all that.

He’s as unreal and unrealistic as the dragons are,

It's called fantasy for a reason, buddy.

but more dangerous because White Men model their ideas of reality on Big Man Heroes like him;

Glad you are totally not racist, yo!!! It's such a relief that White Men are the only ones with this terrible behavior of looking up to larger than life, mythic superpeople and nobody else. Imagine what it would be like, if we would have some asshole from say, hindu indian literature massacering demons called Rakshassas, by the tens of thousands, or some bullshit japanese warlord would snatch out arrows from the air, or a chienese bodyguard would mow down hundreds of barbaric huns without dropping a sweat, or some middle eastern hero would fight literal gods and their magical beasts in some quest for eternal life.

it's a poison that weakens us, distracting us from actually trying to solve the world’s issues, or banding together to deal with shit.

This is what you just said. It's up to the white man, to get their shit together, be not racist and solve the world's problems, because those poor other people's just can't do it. If we would just not be oh, so racist, then China would surely stop with the genocides they are doing now, or blowing more than half the greenhouse emissions into the athmosphere, the muslims would stop throwing their gays from rooftops or ramming trucks into crowds and would just start treating women as equals, India's massive rape problem would be gone, subsaharan African would be magically bereft of the host of atrocities committed there on a daily, yeah, you sure have that nonracism down, buddy!

A rugged individualist would be smart enough to realize that even the most individualistic person needs others; no man’s an island, and a loner is easier to kill.

Individualism doesn't mean at all what you think it means, it's a cluster of widely differeing philosophies that puts the individual ahead of the group or state, it's ranging from anarchism to liberalism and is also has nothing to do with my point.

Central Europe? What, Germany? Because let me tell you, historically they are SUPER concerned about race!

Germany traditionally considered western european, central europe would be the people stuck between them and the russians, to put it very loosely. We are equally nonplussed by the self-flagellating white guilt complex and the woe me victim complex of the west. We did none of the shit those meanie white people did to the nonwhites and suffered everyting any poc ever did and then some. We don't give a shit about your color, we care about what culture you are from and if you respect our values.

I’m an American from a former Confederate state; trust me, race is everything. It always is.

No it really isn't. How old are you? Asking without condescension, genuinly curious, because if you are in your low twenties at most, it's understandable why you think like this.

See that hike? Do you know what happened at that time that made virtually all american media suddenly go all in with racism?

Occupy Wall Street, that's what. It's a brilliant way to sow victimhood and hate and desperation amongst the people who have one common enemy, the powers that be, the banking sector, the politicians, the megacorporations.

Can't really blame you if you are in your early 20's at most, you grew up with this bullshit hammered into you. If you are older, step out of your echochamber please!

If you actually believe, that mankind doesn't progress naturally towards a more accepting society purely on the merit of there being more good people than bad and sharing a similar living with all the hardships in life, seeing that our prejudices inherited by our parents are baseless, that's how we progress, not virtue signalling courses and regressive policies. I was raised as any other kid, I had a deep resentment towards the neighbouring nations, I said vile, racist shit against people who I actually share a lot of genes with, of which fact I was in deep denial about, and then as I gradually got exposed more and more actual people of these groups, I started to realize I was wrong and everybody should be judged by their individual merits. It works throughout the generations, my grandma was thought songs about Hitler and how all jews are evil in school, she legit thought all black people at least in Africa are cannibals and shit, my mother stillsays shit that would get her cancelled in the USA, and I will probably have a mixed race kid as we stand now.

This whole racism is an eternal problem is laughable and disingenuous and I am actually sorry for you that you feel like that.

Moving on. As for Dany, the “noble white girl sold to scary dark foreign man” is a very popular trope, especially in exploitation films, which Martin draws on much more heavily than most authors do.

No, he fucking doesn't. I already wrote a bunch of examples from the books you seeminly ignore willfully. First of all, she is sold to those olive skinned savages by a white man, who is a terrible, increadibly evil man. He want's to fuck the then 11-12 ish Dany so bad, she picks his slave most resembling her and rapes her repeatedly, "until the madness pass." He also maimes children and traines them as disposable slave spies by the hundreds. There is no boundaries colour here, GRRM prtrays all kinds of people as reprehensible, evil and disgusting. Just like you can find plenty of examples to the opposite.

What is he drawing from your exploitation movies exactly? He writes about the human anture, he writes about the human heart at war with itself, that's his central philosophy of writing.

ASOFAI is basically just a porn movie with complicated feudal politics obscuring it, which is probably why it worked so well as an HBO series (up until the last two seasons or so.)

There is no gratuitous sex scene in the books, the rapes are described as rapes, they are horrible, they are very shortly described and usually just alluded to.

The people commiting them are not put into generous lights and one of the single most harrowing stories hidden behind the grand happenings of the plot is a girl named Jeyne Poole, whose suffering although never shown, is very much pointed out, along with the hypocrisy of the people who only fight to try and save her, because they think her a different person.

Honestly, if you actually read the books and they came of to you as porn, you might want to do some soulsearching.Btw, the HBO series was a terrible adaptation, it immedietly started to go further and further from the books with every passing season and the showmakers made it very clear to everybody, that they didn't understand the very much pacifist and humanist themes of Martin. And neither did you.

We also get no indication Essos will eat it when Winter comes; hell, they seem to not know Winter exists, given the way people act, even though that is also unrealistic and weird. Essos was just super badly designed, and Dany is a terribly boring character.

to be continued

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365days365movies · 3 years

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April 8, 2021: Swiss Army Man (2016) (Recap: Part Two)

So...is Manny a Horcrux, or...

Look, I have only so much willpower, a Harry Potter joke HAD to get its way in here somewhere, OK? And to be clear, Radcliffe is too talented to be relegated to that as his career highlight in and of itself. He was great in it, sure, but the guy deserves more recognition. All of the Harry Potter cast do, for that matter! They’ve all had careers outside of those films, but it often feels like they’re only relegated to similar roles.

Worst amongst those is Emma Watson. Like...really Disney? That was your choice for Belle? The most obvious possible choice EVER? Geez, guys, come on. Also, I hate to say it...but she was clearly the wrong choice for that role. Not just in terms of the autotune overload, but also in general. Sorry, but she wasn’t a great casting, and the reasons for the cast are so transparent, that it makes it even worse. Real talk, people have suggested Anna Kendrick for that role, and honestly...YEAH. THAT WOULD’VE BEEN A BETTER CHOICE, and she’s not even my favorite choice!

...Where was I? Oh, right, Swiss Army Man. I should probably get back to that before I start talking about the new Cruella movie, how Emma Stone is NOT a good casting choice, and how ALL of the DIsney remakes need SERIOUS retooling, and WHY THE FUCK IS QUEEN LATIFAH OR A DRAG QUEEN NOT PLAYING URSULA IN THE REMAKE OF THE LITTLE MERMAID SHE’S BASED ON FUCKING DIVINE

....Back to the movie. First part’s here.

Recap (2/2)

So, we’re back on the fake bus, where the two pantomime the interaction on the bus between Manny and the girl on the phone, with Hank narrating the situation, while also playing the girl, and while Manny sings the Jurassic Park theme song in the soundtrack (I LOVE THIS FUCKING SOUNDTRACK). Manny suddenly feels nervous about talking to this girl, and asks what Hank would do in this situation. But, of course, he’s been in this situation before, and never really said anything. Sorry, buddy.

However, living vicariously through Manny’s actions, he helps her talk to the mystery girl on the bus, whom Manny names “Sarah Johnson”. The two hold hands, and their interaction makes him smile, and once again brings him more to life. He also manifests the ability to make fire with his hands, and to propel objects far distances with his mouth. And yes, the soundtrack is BANGIN’. I mean, this is a montage in the film, and the song just shouts “MONTAAAAAGE” during the chorus, and also describes everything happening on screen. I fucking love this soundtrack, and this is now my montage music.

I should mention that, like the song says, they kill a raccoon and some fish, and also go on a fake (?) date between him and “Sarah Johnson”. They learn to use his arm with some karate chop action, have a fake party, take some fake pictures, it’s fucking nuts and its GREAT. What the hell, man?

Well, this soon leads to things getting a little...awkward between the two, and they nearly kiss after their night of reverie. Which, given the whole dead body thing, is definitely pretty goddamn weird. That continues throughout the day, and the emotional and literal tension ramps up as the two cross a rickety bridge of pipes, which collapses, leading to the two hanging high above a river, which legitimately scares Manny for the first time, mostly because he’s afraid of losing his connection with Hank.

The two fall into the river, and in order to save them both (I think), the two kiss beneath the water. I’m fairly certain that this was meant to blow into Manny so that he could propel them both out of the water...but that’s probably not the only reason for it. That will likely be revealed later on, of course. I’ll just wait and see.

They both get out of the river and the situation, and eventually settle down for the night. In the process, Hank shares more feelings about his father, and this includes how to two don’t really talk much. Manny definitely finds this weird, as he’s planning on telling the real Sarah Johnson how much he feels for her every day. I may have forgotten to mention this, but Manny’s impetus for getting them home (and for coming back to life) is to meet Sarah Johnson, whom he believes is from his past life.

However, upon learning that his farts would probably be discouraged in public, Manny wonders why they're returning, as society sounds restrictive. Hank agrees, and suggests that they stay where they are instead. This is a joke...I think...but that becomes moot, as the two are actually right next to a road, and Hank can get service. He goes onto a social media app, and looks at the profile of Sarah Johnson (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), which is...her real name. Huh. Also, she is married with kids. Oh. OH. Fuck.

Hank goes to Manny and finally reveals the truth about Sarah, which upsets Manny enough that he’s unable to use his abilities. Which sucks, because a bear is at their camp! The bear injures Hank, but the two escape when Hank accidentally light one of Manny’s farts, propelling them upwards and out of the dangerous situation like a goddamn rocket.

When they land in the treetops, the very saddened Manny begins to lament life, and to cry for the first time. However, doing so taps into another of his abilities: psychic manipulation and mental inception. Damn. This ability is far too powerful for Hank’s psyche, especially as Manny descends into straight-up depression, which Hank admits that he completely understands. And Hank falls out of the treetops as the two have a heart-to-heart about their shared depression, and the bear drags him away as they have a shared existential crisis. It’s kind of funny, kind of depressing,, weirdly sweet, and oddly poignant.

And weirdly enough, this is also when Manny discovers one last major ability: he learns to move on his own. He falls out of the tree, and stands up for the first time. He falls immediately after that, BUT, he still manages to get up afterwards. He also uses his fire-starting ability to scare away the bear, saving both of them. He also sets himself on fire for a hot sec, but whatever.

The next morning, roles have been reversed, as Manny is now carrying Hank on his back through the woods. And also right to Sarah’s house, oh FUCK. Hank protests this, understandably, and points out that he doesn’t think himself good enough to even talk to Sarah, revealing his own self-hatred. But after he calls himself an “ugly, useless sack of shit”, Manny counters that by basically saying that nobody’s perfect, but there’s still somebody for everyone. Which is quite sweet, despite how exactly he says it.

And that’s when they meet Sarah’s daughter, Crissie (Antonia Ribero), dear Lord. Weirdly enough, she can hear Manny, meaning that...wait, he’s REAL?!? MANNY IS AN ACTUAL TALKING BODY?!? Not that it matters, since he scares Crissie, which gets Sarah’s attention. However, having scared Crissie, Manny’s sadness causes him to once again become completely inanimate.

Sarah calls the authorities, and they come to patch Hank up and take Manny away at the same time. They discover the pictures of Sarah on her phone, which makes them understandably suspicious. Hank’s father (Richard Gross) also arrives, under the mistaken impression that Hank is the dead body. He completely breaks down, revealing his true emotions for his son, which Hank appreciates. However, things come to a head when Hank realizes that Manny will likely go unrecognized and unremembered. So, he does the logical thing.

He steals Manny’s body and runs away.

I mean, to be fair, they’re BOTH screwed. Sarah’s questioning why the hell pictures of her are on Hank’s phone, and Manny’s gonna get completely forgotten. Not to mention that, as the police and Sarah Johnson pursue him as he takes off with Manny, they discover the camp that Hank and Manny had built while stranded in the woods, which includes some unfortunate effigies of Sarah. Which, yeah, is scary as FUCK.

With Hank now seeming pretty obviously insane (which to be fair, he totally might be), and Sarah, the cops, and Hank’s father absolutely horrified, Hank is taken away just before he tells Manny that they have to SHOW them exactly what happened. And he attempts to make amends with Manny by doing something he’d refused to do in front of him previously: he farts. Hank farts. Loudly and proudly.

But Manny’s still inanimate, and led away by the cops...and suddenly...Many farts. And it’s gloriously stupid. A news cameraman films this, and they all watch on, as Manny’s farts propel him across the ocean, with everyone watching. Sarah rightfully says “What the fuck?”. Manny grins back at Hank. And Hank grins back.

That was Swiss Army Man, by far the weirdest movie I’ve see this month...and it’s weirdly kinda great? I’ll elaborate in the Review (I owe you guys a few of those, by the way; THEY’RE COMIN’). See you there!

#swiss army man #daniel scheinert #daniel kwan #daniel scheinert and daniel kwan #the daniels #daniel radcliffe #paul dano #mary elizabeth winstead #comedy april #user365 #365days365movies #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #userrita #useraina #xavierdalon #userhayao

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serenagaywaterford · 4 years

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It’s aggravating to see aunt Lydia get some sort of redemption arc both in the new book (Why, Margaret?!), and possibly in season 4. She should be the last person to get it, as far as I am concerned. She is a real believer, the only one who’s totally devoted to Gilead, 100%. Not even Fred, or other commanders, and certainly not Serena. Yet, people scream bloody murder if there is even a hint of Serena turning to the good side. But they want it for aunt Lydia, fuck’em!

RIGHT?!

Without going into how bad a book The Testaments is (cos, lbr, it isn’t a good novel), I was just SO disappointed that even Atwood went that route. I mean, it was a bit obvious that Miller wanted to soften Lydia and that absolutely atrocious, nonsensical, bullshit S3 episode was proof of that (and what an insult to Ann Dowd tbh. She deserved so much better).

I literally cannot buy any of the “Aunt Lydia isn’t THAT bad! She’s not like Serena! She just a true believer!”

And...???

I don’t see how she’s not worse than Serena? The only thing people seem to think about is 2x10.

“Well, Aunt Lydia didn’t help Fred pregnancy-rape June!”

No, she didn’t. That’s right.

She just chained her up in a basement, force fed her, and threatened her with death over and over and over until she completely broke her psychologically and made her into a walking zombie-womb to serve her One True Purpose -- to such a degree that even Serena (Serena! The one who wanted a perfect obedient Handmaid!) is like, “WTF?! This is too much, yo. Where my snarky baby factory at?”

She beat and maimed other women in front of June as payback because she knew she couldn’t touch her. (Hmm, familiar? Except Serena slapped Rita. Aunt Lydia literally burned Alma’s arm over open flame.)

She took Janine’s EYE for merely talking back(!), and Lilly’s TONGUE, and attempted to get the Handmaid’s to murder Janine themselves. She’s had June’s feet lashed so hard she can’t walk--MULTIPLE TIMES. And those are only the abuses we know about. But, no, she didn’t help any husband rape June, that’s true.

“UWU LYDIA! She’d never suggest such a thing like Serena did!”

No, she wouldn’t but not because she cares about JUNE lolololol; she cares about the BABY and it is a terrible idea medically for a healthy birth (which is incidentally why I don’t buy that whole 2x10 episode. Serena’s disgusting and furious but she’s not fucking stupid.) That is all Lydia is concerned about. That is her validation and her raison d’etre; if she doesn’t produce obedient Handmaids that give men healthy babies, she’s failed. And I don’t believe that it’s entirely fear that motivates her. She seems to get a very clear sort of power trip and glee from exercising such brutality on young women. Hence, her attitude and acceptance towards how the system treated Natalie. Babies above all! Fuck women, they’re literally just machines. They are BROOD MARES.

“Aunt Lydia didn’t hold June down to be raped every month!”

No, she didn’t. That’s right.

She just trained 100s or 1000s of girls with brutal torture to lie down and take it. She fully supports the Ceremony. Fully. 100%. Even horrible Serena hates it and VISIBLY is uncomfortable with it (but she’s a selfish, delusional coward with anger & jealousy issues so she abides it).

Absolutely everything else Serena has done, short of writing an anti-feminist book and making speeches pre-Gilead, Aunt Lydia has also done. Randomly beat June? Check. Lock June in a room? Check. Scream at June? Check. Uphold the ideals of Gilead? Check. Aunt Lydia ACTIVELY abused, tortured, maimed, bullied, and straight up murdered numerous women. Not just one or two. How many Handmaids has she “trained”? COUNTLESS. Without a hint of remorse. Sometimes she has a soft spot for Janine, or very occasionally, June, but mostly she seems to just treat them as her troublesome pets. Like cattle--to the point of literally using a cattle prod on disobedient ones. A farmer can care about his cattle but it doesn’t make him not a farmer.

Hell, there’s that episode in S1 where Lydia is beating/electrocuting the shit out of June for talking back and Serena swoops in to stop the assault. (Her motives are shitty, and she snaps back to own horrid self not long after, but still...)

Yeah, considering they’re reworking S4 to be more in line with The Testaments is just... sad. Not that we didn’t see them attempting to woobiefy Lydia in S3 already, but I will guess S4 will see her suddenly and randomly taking Handmaids’ concerns seriously. HOW OOC IS THAT? Like, there’s been NO emotional journey for Lydia. It’s why her behaviour in 3x06 didn’t make sense to me. She goes from savagely assaulting Janine in 3x04 to “Oooh, June! This muzzle is so sad! Alexa, play Despacito!” I didn’t buy ANY of Lydia’s randomly swerving and flaky narrative in S3. I have no problem with her expressing her humanity and the audience seeing reasons to sympathize with her (like 2x08) but it was SO ALL OVER THE PLACE in S3 that I can only shudder and how they’re going to do S4. Especially using The Testaments as a roadmap... like suddenly Lydia is a resistance fighter?

Give me a fucking break.

And I think the problem I have with giving Lydia the so-called “redemption arc” on THT is that...

I don’t care.

Who really does?

Lydia is at best a secondary character who has had zero to little development. She’s literally had one (terrible) background episode that was shitty and full of sexist tropes, that only went to show what a snivelling, vengeful, crazy religious bigot she is--and that’s supposed to set her up for THT Redemption™? Suddenly she’s going to switch sides, just like that? Because White Saviour June has spoken to her? (Again, don’t get me started on the sheer idiocy of June (the woman (directly/indirectly) responsible for multiple women DYING in S3 alone) being touted as some precious saviour of women on Jesus-like levels.) Aunt Lydia is magically going to see the light of her wrongdoing?

PLEASE.

And meanwhile, they had a female character who is also a monster on about the same level--just in a different way, who is arguably a lead character and has had PLENTY of background and development, and even started--a few times--down a path that could slowly and ORGANICALLY lead her to remorse and change, and ultimately something vaguely like a redemption arc... but nope! LMAO. PSYCHE!!! Too easy, I guess? Too predictable?

Yes, because I watch THT to be shocked by the unpredictable... /sarcasm. C’mon.

Why bother giving Serena ANY sort of development just to do her so dirty like S3 did, and switch it up so she stays repulsive but AUNT LYDIA MAGICALLY and OUT OF NOWHERE suddenly changes all her long-held and incredibly cemented beliefs? Meanwhile we’ve seen Serena wavering in hers THE ENTIRE SERIES. We’ve seen her try to break the system, to fight against it. Weakly, and she’s a sissy, but hey, it’s SOMETHING. More than we ever saw with Lydia.

No, giving Janine a nicer eyepatch after YOU RIPPED HER EYEBALL OUT FOR TALKING BACK is NOT the same as Serena standing up in front of a council of men and reading in order to give all females the chance to read. Giving Janine a piece of cake for not making a scene at a gala is NOT the same as Serena giving “her” baby away to make sure she has a better life outside the hellscape that she knows is Gilead. What Aunt Lydia has done for “her girls” pales completely with what very little Serena has done for both June, Nichole, and women (/herself lol).

It’s like saying Fred deserves redemption because he let the Handmaids have devilled eggs in 3x04. Or gave June a photo of Hannah. (Which incidentally, Atwood wrote Serena giving that to June. So, let’s just keep taking things away from Serena, Miller. Good job.)

I just......

I...

No.

Aunt Lydia deserves a redemption arc as much as Fred Waterford does. But even Fred--yes, even Fred--has more substantial character development to sustain such a story, and a shift in his arc. Well, I should say nobody “deserves” a redemption arc. But rather, it makes SENSE for a particular character to experience one.

Honestly, I just don’t understand the flagrant Serena hate when people like Fred and Lydia exist. I don’t see why it makes more sense and is less offensive for either of those monsters to get this mythical redemption arc over Serena, the second most developed character in the entire series.

“We need a foil for June! We need her to have a villain to fight against!”

Yes, I agree, dipshit, it’s called Gilead. It’s called female oppression. It’s called the inherent rampant violent misogyny there, and even in “normal” society. It’s the stealing of children. It’s every man in any position of power. It’s religious and ideological extremism. It’s the commodification of women’s bodies as machines for baby-making and male sexual gratification. It’s the Sons of Jacob. It’s international governmental complacency. It’s war.

THERE ARE SO MANY EVIL, VILLAINOUS THINGS IN THT. Serena does personify some of these things, sure. So do ALL the other characters everyone is less upset about getting redemption arcs. But Serena doesn’t need to be the be-all of all these things. She doesn’t have to be the visceral manifestation of all those things forever.

Okay, I just have to stop here cos I can go on forever.

To me, it’s only makes narrative sense for Serena--and ONLY Serena--to get this highly-prized yet still completely imaginary THT Redemption Arc™. And that’s my controversial opinion lol.

#long post #Anonymous

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starsailorstories · 5 years

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fatalcookies

replied to your

post

Does anyone actually wanna know about the...

Uuuuh please

*deep breath*

*steeples fingers*

@fatalcookies

ok so LIKE

In a deviation from canon, Shade’s only on earth because armageddon is coming someday, and she’s the Almighty’s most trusted strategist. I know this is also veering way off all conventional understanding of the hierarchy of angels, but I think our girl’s a seraph. I mean come on--little miss “think nothing but devotion”? The character who was so over the top in her praise of her boss that a complete third party called the relationship “an altar” to be “sacrificed on”? Seraphim is translated as “the burning ones” and Shade is burning inside and out in any version of her you want to construct. She’s way beyond goodness, she’s about PURITY. She is a slave to the theoretical ultimate perfection of the divine plan. Holy holy holy, bitch!

But...she has a secret.

It’s the same secret she has in canon.

She loves life.

She doesn’t know why and it kind of scares her. She has eternal bliss at her fingertips if she just keeps following all the rules, and she’s great at following all the rules. But at the same time, perfection is simultaneously incredibly hectic and kind of boring. After an eternity of serving at the height of passion, unchanging, unerring, a body gets a bit worn out, and starts to think it might be nice to just, curl up with some brief ephemeral story. Something a bit less than perfect, a bit less than eternal--just to see what it was like. And fortunately the divine, in her unerring wisdom, was just on time to tell one, which started, “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.”

And so she goes to earth, and she’s just barely constrained in a quite handsome--entirely bespoke!--human body, whose eyes she only occasionally lights up with white flame, and promptly occupies herself with performing understated miracles of toy repair for random children, dressing like the pits of fashion, sipping espresso in cafes, skulking around the edges of literary society Orlando-style but in a theoretically specifically benevolent fashion, and justifying everything to herself one way or another.

And yes like...Shade is pretty sensible, she’s not going to get into the exact same nonsense on earth that Aziraphale did, but if you really think she’s not going to get into any nonsense at all then I feel really bad for you because clearly you’ve never met...wlw in general

She’s kind--never indulgent, but kind--and polite, and nobody really minds her above or below, because she’s very careful to maintain her Purity by never questioning anything or really putting anything in place besides that which she’s been told to. One of her main justifications for everything she’s been getting up to is to assume that if the Almighty didn’t want her to do it, she wouldn’t be able to, because she certainly doesn’t have free will...does she?

Shade is a pseudonym she took on to represent the humility of her human side, by the way, signifying its total inferiority to the radiance of God. I don’t know what God calls her when she’s a blinding, burning figure at the side of the great throne. Perhaps it’s Lux.

Now. Bolt. You may have been asking yourself, “How are you gonna cast the sweet, soft, motherly team healer as the demon in this? Even Crowley has it in him to be a bit of a curmudgeon sometimes and Bolt just doesn’t” and that is true.

But I have this to say:

Hell hath no fury like a tenderhearted gay disaster scorned.

Okay, it’s not all, like, completely personal. The majority of the soul reaping that Bolt accomplishes doesn’t require her to do anything besides exist. Because she’s a sweet, pretty, competent woman who listens, and she’s also the biggest lesbian in the world, and her numbers look fine back at home office because men are just like that. She doesn’t have to tempt anybody she’s literally just There

But sometimes, with the ladies, it’s more, and sometimes she is there for an extended period, and sometimes she feels something beyond pragmatic compassion and that something quickly turns to heartbreak. Because she will never not be a demon, and humans will never lack the ability to redeem themselves. With them she’s never more than a temptation, a distraction, a stumble on the straight and narrow--never chased, never cherished, never allowed to grow old beside. They abandon her, they hurt her, just like God did, and they never regret it, because it was the right thing to do. So, you know, every once in a while, when it’s really too much to take, when she really has to do something for once, to hell with them.

The thing is that in vol. 1 Bolt certainly feels enormous degrees of love, but she doesn’t really have a moral code beyond “make the people around me happy so that they’ll like me and pay attention to me.” If she felt underappreciated in heaven, would she run to Lucifer’s side knowing she would be praised and made to feel special there? Abso-HECKING-lutely.

Of course, it takes more than just her feelings to make her fall. As with canon Bolt, she falls FOR someone.

Who does she fall for, in this universe?

Ready for this?

Eve.

Oh, it wasn’t entirely selfish. She certainly THOUGHT about the unfairness, the way God set them up for the Fall. And yes hell sent her to make it happen, so she can certainly claim to have just been doing her job. BUT…

She honestly might not have done it the way she did it, if she hadn’t thought, just a tiny bit, just way down deep where she could almost ignore it, “Maybe, if they could choose, one of them might choose me.”

Down the road, one of her few real resume builders downstairs is inventing the spinal block epidural--which REDUCES human suffering, but how are they scoring this thing anyhow?--as a middle finger to heaven and an apology to her first crush

+Bolt grumbling+ “‘In pain you will bring forth children’ ASSHOLE it wasn’t her fault!”

Also putting her in the actual plot rather than just the universe of Good Omens simplifies things nicely, the nuns aren’t needed anymore at all. Boltie will be the first to tell you that without her Systems and her assistants, she’s perfectly capable of misplacing a baby on her own.

I just want to mention here that she dresses like the exact midpoint between Jackie O and Marilyn Monroe with a slightly more infernal color scheme and her sunglasses are those red plastic heart kind

Also, because I do the same shit in every AU, she has the exact relationship Crowley has with Queen with, GUESS!!, Dolly Parton

I definitely think one of the most interesting things about this (it’s one of the things I think is most interesting about canon Good Omens too although they never go a l l the way down this road) is that Shade quietly suspects that Bolt is better at being Good than her. Oh sure she loves all God’s creatures but Boltie can get them to love her back. It seems that, unless someone has hurt her personally, one of her main motivations for pushing back against heaven IS compassion

Bolt for her part feels immense guilt about the fact that the only reason she EVEN lets this crap happen anymore is out of bitterness. She hears heaven offers humans unconditional love, even now that they have free will. Where was that deal when she wanted free will, huh?

From that setup on out, you don’t REALLY have to change anything--about EITHER source text! But it’s kind of fun to customize certain stuff for them

I feel like in that scene where they’re drinking in the bookshop they’d get into an exchange that’s like

Bolt, sitting with her legs slung over the arm of a chair, her pantyhose all bunched around her ankles, her high heels in one hand and a glass of red in the other: And that’s the other thing, if we go back they’re not gonna let us be cute anymore

Shade, sitting at her desk with her tie loose and her collar open beside a half-empty bottle of very nice whiskey (I told you the aesthetics were reversed): My goodness Boltie that’s really what you’re on about at a time like this

Bolt: Well take a second to appreciate what you’ve got down here angel, we look fine as all get out! If they send us back I’m gonna probably be back to bein’ a snake for all eternity and you’re gonna have to be a, a flaming wheel or some shit. You know you’re not gonna be able to get made-to-measure for THAT

Shade: …Damn, you’re right

Is this a good time to mention that in my head, Shade sounds decidedly English and Bolt sounds like she’s from Cleveland

Except also I really want Shade to carry Boltie across consecrated ground like in that one post

#fatalcookies #silly GOOD OMENS AU STUFF

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ss-neokagashi-ss-blog · 5 years

Text

Revolutionaries

https://www.ancient-forums.com/viewtopic.php?f=5&t=18326&sid=4a454958546bf75dc0031d7d8e3dc053

A few people constantly complain or attack not what makes them go full retard, but rather, what prevents them from going full retard. This is very common nowadays. Instead of us opposing the corruption, and what eventually destroys us, we only hate on what is preventing this. Mentality such as this is instilled in victims, slaves, and all sorts of people whose only program in the brain is a program of self-destruction, and satisfaction while said destruction takes place. For example, one that wants to jump from a cliff, hates on the sign that says "Danger DEATH", and one that wants to do drugs, only sees their "mother and father" as their enemy, who tell them to not become a drug user and eventually die. Somehow, if one does this, they act like a 'bad parent', but if they allow people off the cliffs, jews to patrol and pull people down, or even better, in the opinion of these infantile people, KICK their own children down from the cliffs, that is "Good parenthood", deserving of jewish rewards. Good Parenting consists of teaching your "Goy" children, and "Followers", as these fools who point the finger on 'me' and 'us' frequently, to only espouse and accept what is bad for them, and never teach them the art of rejection for decay like some "madmen" like the one writing this post does. "Madmen" like that want to generate free warriors and people who know to say "NO", in a world where all "NO's" are pointless, and all "YES's" are only affirmations of further destruction. Little these people can see, that you guys that complain, are free to jump from cliffs. The only thing that "I" refuse to do is give you ENDORSEMENT for it. Nobody here, nor me, or anyone else, can endorse of what one loves and cares about, to see it going down a cliff, or self destroy, or follow a route of self destruction. One can however, liberally and individually, take this route, no questions asked. Unlike you, who answer to nobody, and sadly, not even yourselves when you self-question stupidity, I have beings to whom I have to answer, and who demand well-being and protection. In my mind and in the mind of many others, where there are innocents, there should also be guards, medics, teachers, and a community. In the mind of few others and some jews who are thinking alike, where there are innocents, there should be no borders and no fence: this way the jew can feast freely. To these people, "You" people are only a good dinner, and a good meal. These revolutionaries for nothing, of which we also have some few here, are always of the same foolery. The revolutionary tendency is not taken on head to head with all the enemies of this world who plan to put people in gulags, but thrown aggressively on people who put some signs in place for others to not fall of cliffs. This is because these people are frail and weak. They do not have the power to change the 'greater evils', so they are busy trying to 'change' and drag down the few people who step in the front to change these evils. This is because, when these proud people fight against these evils, and they stand like proud lions, these cheap souls shrink and feel worthless, for they are good for nothing and communists. One would rather not raise a website to criticize christianity, islam, or what is eventually KILLING US for CENTURIES, but they are too fond to attack on superficial matters: others who are truly dangerous are coming to clean them in one full sweep from the hills, and what they concern themselves with, if in a small bastion that defends a great war, their dumb 'criticisms' have no place. This reminds me of Jouranlists who go in the Middle East. Pissrael is taking Palestinian kids down by the droves, but what is of immaculate interest here, is if some Anti-semite threw a banana down, upon which a holy jew did slip and hurt his ass. That is indeed their 'greatest problem'. As for real problems, if they pointed out to this, these 'self righteous' criticizers, would find themselves in an Israeli camp, so they turn to the people who threw the banana peel, to play the righteous against these people, whom they know will not react to them. The above is because our side simply does not pointlessly retaliate, like of course the enemy would do in said example. But these fools know, if they take their so called "REVOLUTIONARY" tendencies to the enemy, which they are cowardly to do so, they will have issues. Therefore, they limit themselves to matters such as their "OPINION" on X non existent problem of the forum or of this community, which for example, they never even existed in. Oh boy these little ones are also aggressive, and they have really bad manners on top of everything, too, like buzzfeed reporters. As much as buzzfeed cares about 'human rights', so as to breach and attack the rights of humans with opposing opinions mercilessly, so do these 'criticizers' care to improve anything, with rants, below the belt attacks, and acting like Rabbis on a heated synagogue argument. As the jew who never existed in Rome and went in Rome to dictate how Rome should be run, and because the Romans had freedom of assembly and did not slaughter them on the spot, so do these "REVOLUTIONARIES FOR NOTHING" do not spend their time wisely, but to attack the order that they claim to 'represent' (self appointed or with their 3-4 friends most of the time), as the jews who were speaking in the "INTEREST OF ROME", and speaking of how holy it would be if it collapsed. "The interest of Rome, me and my 3-4 friends say, is for Rome to finally collapse! Marcus Aurelius is foolish, for me and my 3-4 talmud reading alien friends have to be free to uhm, do absolutely nothing for any of you guys reading this, hehe. Now do as we say goy!". These good for nothing are totally unfit to sit on a table to develop something that they claim they 'love', but they are too fit to cause communist style uprisings and of course, can't look past their own nose. It is possibly too big after all, it constrains their vision. This is because what is important to them is to be the parasitic 'front-men' that when the guns sound, hide behind others to make excuses, use them as meat shields, or desert them. Any skill of actual leadership, comradeship, and sense of purpose and caring for others completely lacks. What is more important is to be pointless rebels. All one imagines is to be like a retard on the spotlight not to GIVE light, but to STEAL light. The above mindset where an army or a great purpose is concerned, only can get you as far as being self righteous bandits. One never gets nowhere without organization. As every chakra has to be on it's point for a functional whole, so do societies and communities have to be likewise in order to shine. To move alone, or to move like a bandit, will only make you a very good bandit. One only grows as good as to throw a dumb molotov like a leftist on a trash can. The greatest achievement of these people is that. Our people, meaning, the people of our side, and those who are at heart decided to fight the enemy, should have greater aims, greater achievements. You are not destined to be bandits, you are destined to be a powerful armada that the enemy will fear, and shriek in terror from. You are not supposed to carry slingshot, but powerful spiritual weaponry. You are not to be cowards that complain about something, but builders who will learn to correct it. Our enemy is ordered, decided, attacks for hours on end daily, for thousands of years, unceasingly, at all front. Is it therefore by any question why our enemy has been dominating people and having them under, and kicking them while they are down? And what do "WE", thankfully, infrequently have to encounter? Infiltrators, weakness, lack of caring, and certain dumb rebels, who instead of attacking what will actually put them in a gulag, are busy being self-righteous ticks on literally the ONLY forces that are not only open to communicate, take them in, teach them, and uplift them, but also seek the bettering of mankind. Satan, the Greatest God, who has had the greatest souls, always had to deal with disrespect, weakness, and seeing his children gas-lighted and moving in circles. We are here to change this permanently. Satanist will no longer mean what the enemy has made it mean, it will mean what we develop out of ourselves. The Lions of Sumeria will stand restored. Rebellion, just for the sake of record, if is disorganized and purposeless, is of no consequence, no essence. It is cowardly. You are not a good person because you are simply a rebel. You are not strong if you rebel ineffectively, or because you attack your guides. A good cause is needed, a formation, a loyalty between what is revolutionaries and rebels. If you do not know the values of brotherhood, standing with your brothers sword to sword, and taking a stand, you are nothing but just another dumbass with a hoodie burning trashcans. And so long you are the above, nobody will be of any concern. You are just another fool, another mockery, a mockery imagined by Satan's enemies of what should be his followers. A lot of these fools remind me of an example from Hitler's time. A few 'Pagan' witches in Britain, I bet, white and all, were so UHM feeling oppressed by Muh Evil Hitler (What Rothschild told them Hitler was by his Juden Presse) and they were really alarmed. Being reactionary and 'revolutionary' as these dumbasses were, they decided to curse Hitler. Little did these 'witches' see that Germany, was the HOTBED of all spiritual knowledge, uprising understanding, and newfound Paganism. As for JEWS who have been running Britain for literally CENTURIES, these very clever witches had the idea to attack Hitler instead. They burned witches like them for centuries in droves, but that is OK. AT least, they can fight "Evil Hitler". The Vatican, Muslims, Jews, and all others who literally BURNED witches to the ground for 20 plus centuries, were not really "THE" danger. The people who put forth the most spiritual information of the century, who were the only people to give rise to a non jewish spiritual order, and who were the only one's interested about out origins and setting people free financially, culturally, and in their sovereignty, leading by example the most compassionate and strong land of the time, THESE were the problem. Hitler was the danger. The Rockafellers and Rothschilds and jews who spent all their lives in enslaving them, misinforming them, enslaving them, burning all Pagan sites prior to recent wrongdoings for centuries, and brainwashing our European continent to kill our own selves and Pagan past - these are all fine. "We have to defend them, to defend Britain". 30% of people shouted for Britain to ally with Hitler, to save the White people. But to the witches above, and many others, this was 'too far'. It was too much of a 'bigotry' for a common people to be brothers and to be allied. To be egotistic when it is for defending jews, and selfless when it comes to their rape, was more important, than saving the race. So these dumb witches decided to do a cone of power ritual against Hitler. Like foolish animals, they started dancing around the cone of power, to attack their only actual liberation, because they were dumb, useless revolutionaries, disinformed, and spiritually dross. They wanted to play hero but be the parasite. So they in their 'revolutionary' feats, cursed Hitler. What happened eventually is that half of these witches died, like dumb animals. Used as cannon fodder from the jews and the enemy to add useless force into the general works against Hitler. Probably, they were White. Their spells failed, same as those of hundreds of thousands others, and all the jews. They battered this man like battering rams and he took them all down. This should be a lesson for dumbasses to not attack the sun. Eventually, the so called "DICTATOR", that mighty SUN, did set from from this world, and he left. The people of "FREEDOM" are now "RULING" these so called "Freedom lovers". Now these witches, if they still exist, they can enjoy a reincarnation in Eurabia, being stoned by blacks, and also, their lovely 'Britain' to become brown in the span of a few decades. Maybe, if the evil "Hitlers" of our time give up, they will experience the glories of living in an Islamic country within the span of some decades. Ah, the pleasure of attacking Hilter and these evil Nazis, and being ((("Truly British"))). Britain is now one of the leading nations in Europe in the browning and kalergi planning, one of the first Orwellian superstates where police will show up on your door for twitter posts or 'awkward beliefs', the first nation in rising of a faith aka Islam where when it becomes a majority, women will be castrated and become akin to swine, a people whose Sovereignty is of the least importance and cannot manifest it's own political decisions, and who live in one of the world's strongest countries but it's being wrestled from their own hands in front of their very eyes. Even the will of the populace is now totally forsaken. These Pagan witches were busy not attacking their enemies, but their friends, liberators, and allies. In this paradigm, many fools have followed. They don't have the insight to see who benefits from these actions, but they know how to do cones of power to attack what would eventually save their whole existence. These witches also like to call themselves "Witches", a word which is related to the WISE. As for the wisdom, it's nowhere to be found. Like slaves in a village enslaved for too long, they lift their stupid sickle to defend their feudalism slaver. To gain only a life of eternal slaving. They were busy being self righteous and not cursing where they should. Many other so called "Satanists", despite of decades of failures, against "US", the JoS, and individuals, have been constantly failing. Satan is with us, and you have to understand this. Stop wasting your energies, or rather, join us and fight the enemy, and make some worth of them. Can't you see that you are plucking your own eyes when you do these things? For one, curses against "Us" will not work. People who serve the Gods and attacking others who also serve in that regard are simply abominations. We have endless battalions of enemies for you to do your modern 'cones of power' against. As far as we are concerned, this is the reason we never have, and do not want to waste time or anyone or anything else besides the actual enemy, who is the TRUE danger to everyone. Attack us with your stones and toothpicks, but expect napalm if we are to turn to you, 'wise witches'- our enemies are coming in with the latest armada, and you are sleeping on your own little bed, at least certain in your moral choice to serve jews yet another day. The ones who corrupted our spirituality, tenets, past and future, to the point most of you have nothing but their jewish mentions, their jewish terminology, their jewish occultic "lore", and their jewish hubris. That leads you nowhere. When our enemies will put these 'witches' in the gulag, they will try to do little candle spells, but none will work. Us, we would rather turn our spiritual weaponry where it matters, and defend what matters, at the most crucial time ever, which is NOW. We have endless xianity, endless muslims, endless political or otherwise oppressors, and other DEADLY enemies, with whom differences do not extend as far as something that conversation or negotiation can solve, but who only want to see you, and everything you love, DEAD. If you still think the wise thing to do is to mobilize against the only spiritual people of this earth who take a stance on this oppression, join the club of the losers and dumb reactionaries, and destroy yourself in quick efficiency by opposing us. Warnings have been issued, and there is nothing that can be done further. The "Tribal" interest of the jews is for many superior to their own living, existential, and well-being interest. They are busy slaving like serfs for the enemy who only will eternally abuse them. Like these dumb witches, some choose to fight against Freedom, based on perceived disinformation. Frail and lacking knowledge, they insisted, not raising their heads to see that their so called 'spiritual masters' and 'authorities' handle them as dogs, who knew nothing, but to do infantile rituals against people who would in the end save them too. Any "True Pagan" or "True Witch", should raise their heads and themselves out of this slavery, understand in "WISDOM" their own interest, and align themselves with LIFE rather than their own personal DEATH, which is the enemy, their jewish 'moralist' agenda, and people who say that you must "Not suffer a witch to live" as their national literature. It's time spiritual people do something MEANINGFUL, other than kissing the ass of whose who will eventually destroy them, and who have been killing all witches for centuries as if they were flies en masse. Criticism, and any dislike aside, Pagans of sound denominations, "Satanists" with a core of actual beliefs who are not entirely just acting out, and many others - I tell you verily, and honestly: We also fight for your rights in the future, which will come as byproduct of our efforts, even if you stupidly decide to fight against us. One is merely wasting time by not aligning themselves on the proper side for our continuation, which is ours. Those who have maturity and understanding, and care for "Our" future as Heathens, Pagans, or people of ancient faith, ancestry, and honor the blood of our ancestors, they will not take these words in vain. To these people of wisdom of spirit, salutations. To the rest, only "FAREWELL". Those who respect truth, will value it wherever it is said. Those who value the blood of their ancestors, will value it wherever it is shed. Those who have wisdom, let them join us in our spiritual warfare, or even if they want, enter our ranks and fight for a JUST cause for once: http://www.satanslibrary.org/Rtrs/Final_RTR.htm -High Priest Hooded Cobra 666

#Sermon #revolution #revolutionaries #High Priest HoodedCobra666 #satanism

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abundantchewtoys · 5 years

Text

HS Epi: Meat p12 reaction

Back to Earth C presumably.

I gotta say, I'm curious to find out the final page count of Meat. The way we liveblog, the experience is stretched out, so with theories surfacing and such, we might be caught off guard when things are really over. There's only so far that things will be taken, though I guess we're still in for those "original Male/Female characters", I guess. :P That shouldn't refer to the new Reload timeline John created, I think, with copies of all the people mentioned in the rest of the character list. So, uh, yeah, guess the reason Arquiusprite wasn't mentioned in there was because he remained unseen, voided out if you will. And I guess we shouldn't expect an alternate Equius to have a talking role, either?

---

==>

Well! Talk about jumping straight into the action, this page opens with a dialoguelog! Back to Dave, Karkat and if my eyes didn't deceive me, we'll get some lines for Jade, too! Supportive Jade will be supportive.

"hit jane right in her neoliberal austerity measures" ... Hah. Well, I didn't think that would get referenced again at all, but it seems after all these years since John's 18th birthday Dave still has issues with the ol' N.A.M. So, Jane's a neoliberal AND a fascist now, Dave? Is that... even feasible?

"DAVE: now shes gonna spin some shit about supply side economics but we cant let her control the narrative on that one cause the first thing thats gonna happen once she begins deregulating the baking industry is that some sweet dumb crocodile down in consort land is gonna start putting sparkle glue in the cupcake mix which isnt even the real issue thats just surface issues KARKAT: RIGHT. JADE: definitely" ... Like, Dave I admire you're getting so into this, but you realize they aren't following, right? Also, why would Jane want to deregulate the baking industry if she's the leader of the foremost power in said industry, as well as running for president? Plus, Jane can't control the narrative because Caliborn is already controlling it! :mspa:

"DAVE: i mean earth c has just been play acting capitalism the last five thousand years while we timeskipped ahead to live rad lives as gods without bothering with any of the boring shit that goes into making a civilization DAVE: which is fine i mean you cant really expect a bunch of teens who didnt finish middle school to set up a sustainable form of social democracy that isnt just blatantly ripped off whatever we incorrectly thought obama god rest his soul was doing back in the day" ... Gee, Dave's given this a real lot of thought. Props to him, but I hope that aside from becoming 'an activist' he's also got some legitimite action points to improve Earth C's situation.

Guess Sburb really does a number on players, huh? "Congrats, you won, you're all gods now, and also, here's this whole civilization on the brink of collapse, have fun with that. Don't mess this up, I need those people to start the apocalypse in say, 2000 years, k thx bye." (The fact that this civilization, being outside of the Green Sun's influence, may never implement Sburb, is a bit besides the point since I think the trolls would have had the same issue tossed onto them had they actually gone through the victory door.)

Right, but the trolls had their home planet already effectively run by children, I wonder if that will come again? Even though they had carpenter droids at their disposal to run some things for them, they might actually be a bit more self-reliant than the humans!

"DAVE: but janes got this old school mentality you just know she wants to restrict grist alchemy for the sake of “growth” and when that goes down itll take three seconds flat for some nobody in new dersetown to drop the earth c communist manifesto" ... New Dersetown, I like the ring of that. Would call it New Dersey for short, though. :P Again, valid points there, Dave! If any revolt started, it doesn't have to be in the troll community, it could just as much be an angry carapace uprising! They're only docile if there's no one to rally behind.

Blaperile has this idea that the new society in a universe is not supposed to be seeded with the remains of the session nor the universe that came before it. That's actually a valid point; the only reason this society got kickstarted was through the cloning apparatus that was on the meteor! The consorts and carapaces seem like they would be able to reproduce biologically though, so I'm not sure how Sburb normally ensures the planet is a clean slate for a new species to emerge. ... Okay, so the planet itself doesn't really need to be the place where a new Sburb-playing species rises, true. There's a whole new universe out there.

Maybe through "importing" old Sburb technology, the "alpha" planet designation went to Earth C automatically, though.

Or maybe First Guardians are expected to 'cleanse' the planet from outside influence normally, but since this society's outside of the Green Sun's influence, that ain't happening. And Jade won't be going Thanos on Earth C.

"KARKAT: OH YEAH. JADE: of course DAVE: are you two even listening or are you just making noises with your mouths" Dave realizing he's monologuing? What character development is this. :O

"KARKAT: I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M BEING ACCUSED BY DAVE STRIDER, REIGNING EMPEROR OF SPEWING ENDLESS VERBAL DIARRHEA DIRECTLY INTO MY INNOCENT HEAR DUCTS EVERY DAY OF MY FUCKING LIFE, OF MAKING THOUGHTLESS MOUTH NOISES. KARKAT: JADE, ARE YOU HEARING THIS? JADE: im scandalized JADE: especially when JADE: there are much better things we could all be doing with our mouths....." ... Jade, your animes are showing again. ... I think that maybe Jade doesn't want this relation to be going where Dave and Karkat want it to go.

"It’s been a really nice day they’ve been having, and then Jade had to go say something like that. The air in the hive changes in a way that is palpable, in a way that she can’t seem to accurately gauge despite having both superhuman and superdog senses." ... Ah. So I guess maybe Jade just can't get a lid on some of her more... canine inclinations, at time. Welp!

"Elements of her outfit resemble her god tier jammies: peasant skirt, sparkly flats, and a bold choice in striped tights." Nice! That's only the third person who created an outfit based on her god tier outfit that we know, aside from Meenah and Rose.

"the couch where she crashed last night, and the night before that, and the better part of the seven years before that." It would seem Jade has the wanderlust then, she's more like the vagrant dog that comes visiting from time to time? More GCAT in demeanor than Becquerel, in practice. Heheh. Good for her, after being isolated on an island and then a battleship for so long, she's finally going out & seeing things!

"There are other personal effects of hers in the living room too: plants on the windowstill, her bass guitar sitting in a corner" Cool, so when she comes over, she typically lounges here then. Guess the flute never made it over, though. :p

"a horrific-looking periodic table that Dave made her for her seventeenth birthday pinned above the stairwell. He typed it in Comic Sans, and then deep-fried it to oblivion with JPEG artifacts." ... Next up, on For Fans By Fans...

"And Dave, with his preternaturally perfect timing, sweeps a hand over his tablet to bring up a new PowerPoint slide on the TV. He returns to his Comic Sans-written political presentation, gruesome artifacts and all" Dave, Dave that isn't professional at all!

", with the grace and proficiency of a man who has diffused an awkward situation in his own household many times per day, every day, for many years." Well, okay, that is really mature. But when Dave is the adult in a situation, the situation is very awkward per definition.

"DAVE: alternia: brutal eugenics based space dictatorship KARKAT: NOT UNTRUE." Succinct, brutal, but not dishonest.

"DAVE: troll homeworld: lord of the flies nightmare scenario where kids murder each other just to get the chance to get to grow up and murder other aliens instead KARKAT: IT WASN’T THAT BAD." Karkat. Karkat that isn't a valid rebuke.

"KARKAT: YOU MADE THAT LAST ONE UP. KARKAT: ALSO, IT WAS DISGUSTING?? KARKAT: GROW THE FUCK UP, YOU UTTERLY CONTEMPTIBLE, POTTY MOUTHED *CUNT*." ... The irony is stark.

"JADE: also you know trolls dont actually have two dicks dave thats an offensive stereotype" Are we really doing troll anatomy? Well, I guess it's good to know that the fan theory about Sollux at least isn't applicable to the entire species.

"DAVE: trolls: literally ate babies KARKAT: ONLY THE DEFECTIVE ONES. DAVE: like you my dude KARKAT: ...YEAH. DAVE: so thats why our campaign can work" Yeah, Karkat ate grubs, though they weren't troll babies. Also, yeah, Karkat was a mutant, but I wonder if that would really help his case here.

"DAVE: btw im gonna be giving a long form exam at the end of this to make sure youre retaining info because this is only like the most important thing weve ever done collectively" Well he ain't wrong.

"KARKAT: ARE YOU ASKING ME WHETHER I’VE HEARD THIS EXACT SPEECH ALMOST WORD FOR WORD, INCLUDING REHEARSED VERSIONS OF BOTH THE COLORFUL METAPHORS AND “JOKES,” TEN OR TWENTY TIMES ALREADY? KARKAT: BECAUSE THE ANSWER WOULD BE KARKAT: YES, OF COURSE I FUCKING HAVE." Poor, poor Karkat.

"Karkat elbows Dave in the thigh, a move that is obviously meant to be an action of pure, brotherly jest. But instead it comes off as affectionate and overly intimate. Jade’s clever eyes don’t miss this. Her pupils follow the motion of Karkat’s arm, and then they follow the movement of Dave’s mouth as he smiles in what he probably thinks is a totally neutral expression that reveals exactly 0% of his true feelings toward Karkat Vantas. In reality, his veneer is as thin and transparent as cellophane. He is the only person who can’t see through it.

Jade does some calculations in her head. Two kinds of calculations, in fact: mathematical ones and personal ones." So, is Jade reading too much into their relationship, or are the dudes just... Both too shy?

"JADE: soooooo JADE: do you want a projection of her first years hit on the economy down to the decimal with a 0.3% margin of error JADE: because thats a thing i can do if itll make you stop talking about this stupid election for ten minutes" I didn't know that were First Guardian powers! :p I suppose it might be her natural intellect though, but we've only known her as the hands-on science type until now.

"She proceeds to dazzle the two boys with explications on complex math utilizing taxation rates, GDP figures, and some damned thing called the “Laffer curve,”" Dang, Jade is as much committed to this as Dave! (Or maybe she learned all this because it means so much to him, that could be it too!)

"The thing about Jade Harley is that she’s not as good at personal things as she is at other things. Like science, or mastering fraymotifs, or kissing, the last of which she has definitely put a lot of levels into over the past few years because, well, what else are you supposed to do with immortal godhood once you hit the age where the dog hormones start kicking into overdrive?" Guess for dogs, kissing isn't that personal. :p And well, I guess Jade's only now learning the real consequences of turning into a real-life furry. At least she won't have had lack of candidates to practice kissing with. She might even have become the Witch of Spacing Out Young Adults.

"Her high-prescription lenses make her eyes look anime-huge. They might literally be glittering, she’s so completely serious about the issue she is trying to stress." And the fan artists rejoiced for all the new descriptions they have to work with!

" JADE: im about to lay out some cold hard evidence so pay attention! KARKAT: OH, HANG ON, LET ME GET A PEN." You can't live together with Dave for years without learning when it's time to start taking notes and grab a fucking pen.

"JADE: evidence about..... JADE: our relationship! KARKAT: FUCK" Pfff, okay, never mind. I think Jade might have hit a wall several times over before, trying to either define their relationship or take it to the next level. These dudes are really sensitive about their feelings, after all.

But it would be interesting, learning Jade wants to know where they stand just as much as the outside world does.

"JADE: you let me live in your hive when im in town KARKAT: I CAN’T BELIEVE... JADE: im preeeetty intimately entwined in both your lives KARKAT: THAT YOU’RE JUST TALKING ABOUT THIS? JADE: AND you dont disengage from about 86.234% of my flirtations KARKAT: WAIT, WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU KEEP TRACK OF SOMETHING LIKE THAT? JADE: so....... are we doing this or not?" So, just like with taking on Lord English and acknowledging the lit fuse that is Earth C society, I guess the coming around of April 13th 2019 is when Jade had enough of all this silly business and wants to know what's what. (Also, I suppose the level of intimacy they shared on beforehand will be left to speculation.)

"KARKAT: DOING WHAT?! JADE: dating dummy!!!!!!!! KARKAT: OH. KARKAT: THAT IS KARKAT: THAT IS... A COMPLICATED TOPIC IN MY CULTURE THAT I’M NOT SURE HUMANS ARE EQUIPPED TO TALK ABOUT." Smooth, Karkat, real smooth. Maybe Karkat fears commitment will lead to some of their relationships shifting into other quadrants. And he wouldn't like to be moirails or auspistices with either of them.

"DAVE: also totally unrelated to the economy" ... Nice try Dave, but I think this can't be steered back into that track.

"DAVE: which not gonna lie is the only thing i want to talk about for uh DAVE: for however long it takes for this other conversation to stop happening JADE: so say no!!! DAVE: well KARKAT: UHHHHH JADE: im not just forcing this conversation for my sake! its for you two as well JADE: i mean after all this time have you two even kissed yet?????? DAVE: wha" I think Dave and Karkat might actually have been both content to stay uncommitted and fearful to put a label on it. Also Jade's question will presumably remain unanswered, it's already surprising it's confirmed she hasn't seen them kissing. And that is ignoring the matter of whether either Dave or Karkat kissed Jade before. I guess it's only fortunate for this situation that this instance of Jade never dated Davesprite, it would only complicate things further.

"DAVE: wha KARKAT: WH-WHY WOULD DAVE: uhh KARKAT: WHY WOULD WE KISS?? DAVE: thats KARKAT: THAT’S... YOU... I MEAN, HE’S... HE’S DAVE. DAVE: we KARKAT: AND I’M KARKAT." PFffffffff, hilarious! I can just see them blushing like tomatoes right now. Can't keep staying in denial bros!

"JADE: yes hes dave and youre karkat and everyone we know always calls you that JADE: “dave and karkat”" Hah! Yeah, but they also think you're part of the item, Jade. Care to shed some thoughts on the subject?

"JADE: i cant remember the last time i heard anyone mention one of you without the other JADE: the two of you have basically been together since your days on the meteor its SO obvious" Jade has turned this from a personal matter into a fandom matter. "Everyone and their dog knows you're dating, guys! Stop pretending otherwise!" It's interesting to note the different ways Dave has been seen handling relationships. When he dated Terezi in the GO timeline, it went south due her troubles in the black quadrant. When Davesprite dated Jade, it went south due to unresolved Dave issues, presumably having to do with his bros. With Karkat, Dave's been in a stable-ish thing for the longest time, though.

" KARKAT: VERY CLOSE FRIENDS WHO UNDERSTAND AND SUPPORT EACH OTHER ON A DEEP AND EMPATHETIC LEVEL THAT GOES BEYOND HATE OR PITY. YOU COULD EVEN SAY THAT OUR RELATIONSHIP... KARKAT: ...TRANSCENDS QUADRANTS." ... PFfffffff, so this could have been what it was like for the Sufferer and the Disciple, then! They were just never ready to commit? That would actually be funnier than it being this deep and fulfilling relationship. It would also make Doc Scratch' misgivings on the relationship even more hilarious.

"JADE: yeaaaaaah not gonna lie karkat but that sounds totally kinda gay KARKAT: UGH YOU HUMANS AND YOUR UNFATHOMABLE GENDER BASED QUADRANTS." ... Heh. Actually. Too trolls, the whole gender-based romance thing we have going must indeed be as unfathomable as leprechaun romance.

"Jade faceplams." Well that's a new verb. ;) What part of the body is the 'plam', exactly?

" KARKAT: ANYWAY WEREN’T YOU... DATING THAT CARAPACIAN COUPLE? LAST TIME WE CHECKED?" Lolwut. Jade. Jade are you... are you being a Ms. Casanova, a paramour or two in every city you frequent? If WV and PM turn out to be alive for the sole purpose of dating Jade, I'll choke on my drink.

" DAVE: wait you saying we arent fun JADE: whens the last time either of you left the house??????" I know Jade means it as in, she'd like to date them for keeps. But I also fulheartedly believe Dave and Karkat can sustain themselves on delivery pizza and chinese chow.

"In her other hand, she tries to grab Dave’s wrist, but he flash-steps to the other side of the couch." Well that's a new use of the power, guess Dave must really have felt alarmed. :p

"JADE: i wanna try dating for real KARKAT: HAVE YOU EVER CONSIDERED KARKAT: SORRY IF WHAT I’M ABOUT TO SAY TOTALLY BLOWS YOUR MIND KARKAT: DATING A SINGLE PERSON, FOR MORE THAN HALF A SWEEP, FOR REASONS OTHER THAN INITIATING THE CONCUPISCENT EXCHANGE OF FLUIDS?" Karkat is trying to throw the issue back into Jade's face by saying she should try dating for a longer period of time. But that's exactly what she's trying to do here! She knows who she wants that with! That poor little troll, he's not getting out from under this.

"JADE: third of all karkat arent you from a culture where people are expected to engage in romantic relationships with up to like five people at a time?? KARKAT: THAT’S NOT KARKAT: THAT’S NOT THE SAME THING AT ALL." If he's trying to avoid getting dragged into quadrants with people, he should stop upholding the validity of the quadrants to hold people off. :p

"DAVE: ok jade i think theres a flaw in your approach here cause you seem to think winning an argument on super clever logical grounds is gonna get a couple dudes to break down and fling themselves at you in like, a sexual way JADE: wellll it usually does ;B DAVE: oh my fucking god" So she swoons people by way of her big brain. Jade's got CLASS.

"This earns Dave a look. A long, sad one that has Jade messing with her glasses again so that she can peer right at him and apply some more of that faulty personal math to his facial expression." Just confirmation here that Jade isn't necessarily correct in all her assessments due to not being objective.

"JADE: dave are you in love with obama? DAVE: jade jesus where do you get this shit from JADE: is it about jesus then??????" Aaaaaand this has been derailed again.

"DAVE: no! DAVE: jesus wasnt even real JADE: i know he wasnt real! JADE: wait... JADE: are you saying JADE: obama was real? DAVE: ... DAVE: yes" Wut. Wai- I- Jade. Honey. Please. Guess for all her involvement in politics since, those isolated years on the island sheltered her WAY too much.

"DAVE: obama was real DAVE: he was the president KARKAT: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA JADE: all this time i thought obama was like JADE: an aspirational fictional character that you modeled your life after KARKAT: AHAHAHAHA I CAN’T AHAHA BREATHE... JADE: like snoop dog or nicolas cage" ... Jade. Jade no. You're just making this worse on yourself. For Jade, there would have been almost nothing in Homestuck she'd have seen as a reference to 'real life', would there?

"senary numeral systems that allow me to do complex equations in my head" ... Why is Base 6 good for complex equations? I'm probably not good enough at math to know.

"KARKAT: WHY IS IT LIKE SOME SORT OF *TRAGEDY* HOW SHE WAS RAISED? KARKAT: BECAUSE SHE WAS RAISED ALONE BY AN ANIMAL?? KARKAT: *I* WAS RAISED ALONE BY AN ANIMAL!" There! It's getting acknowledged again, how Jade's upbringing more resembles a troll than a human's! Becquerel the lusus.

"There’s a ripple in the room that makes it clear their god tier powers have just clashed against each other. He shifts his arm through time and Jade warps the space around them so that she’s the one holding the tablet. This is not the first time that they have rearranged the fabric of reality for a petty reason like this. Karkat has permanently sworn off playing board games with them." ... Lol. First real use of the god tier powers in Earth C, and it goes like this! Wait, couldn't Jade have snapped... Right, no, she actually wouldn't have First Guardian powers anymore now, I forgot. Still, what did Dave try to do, move the tablet to another point in the timeline?

"The moment Jade brings the paint program up on the television, Karkat stops laughing. KARKAT: NO!" Oh boy. Time for the Penis Quadrant scene, this time with three people. ... This would actually fall under both definitions of a "sketch", actually.

"He tries to grab the tablet from her, but she’s hovering well above the ground and he simply is not tall enough to reach. With a shit-eating grin and deliberate care, Jade begins to draw a grid." He's going to jump up to grab her leg, to disturb the drawing, isn't he?

"She gives Karkat a pair of fuzzy, angry eyebrows" Now I'm starting to think of the Karkat expressions in that one Paradox Space.

"all he accomplishes is turning the redrom trajectory between her and Dave into a redrom loop-de-loop." This is all I could want from a reprise of this scene.

"JADE: see me and karkat have great black chemistry! KARKAT: IT IS NOT BLACK CHEMISTRY YOU HORRID NON-CHITINOUS WINDBAG!" A+ denial there, Karkat, props on the response.

"JADE: and now that daves all chill hed make a great auspistice" Jade just wants all Karkat's quadrants filled by the three of them, somehow.

"JADE: because you and karkat are kind of like moirails DAVE: no JADE: and you and i JADE: well yknow its always been pretty flirty DAVE: jade JADE: EXCEPT!

Jade finishes drawing a shaky heart directly into the paint program. It’s so big and bright on the TV that it fills the entire room with red light." She's putting all these names and symbols to the relationship, it might just be too much for these poor boys to handle. :p

"JADE: i call this political arrangement: JADE: fully automated luxury polyamorous space-time communism!!!!!!!" That is not the shipping name I would've chosen, but it's the shipping name we deserve. And hey, communism! Get it? Cause Karkat had a sickle.

I wonder what Karkat's take on polyamory outside of the ashen quadrant is, actually.

"Jade rolls her eyes and tosses both the tablet and pen over her shoulder. Dave flashes across the living room to catch his very expensive computing device in both arms. The pen bounces off his forehead." This. Entire. Scene.

"JADE: i have to go talk to roxy and callie about the election anyway" Well, she's going to let them stew on this for a while. But I'm eager to find out who Roxy & Calliope would back. You might think Jane's a given, but if she's been busy maybe they have grown closer to Jade & Dave!

"Jade clicks her heels together to propel herself back into the air and actually winks at them before absconding through an open window." Think happy thoughts! Also, I just realized becoming a god sadly never gave Karkat the powers of flight.

"Dave and Karkat both stare after her, silently caught in their own private rationalization spirals.

Karkat needs to verbalize part of his out loud." Ah, but can they stay in that spiral or will they have no choice but to break out of it?

"KARKAT: WANNA PLAY SOME TROLL TONY HAWK? DAVE: hell DAVE: yeah" Yyyyyeaah, they are not going to have changed when Jade comes back, will they?

So even Karkat calls it "Troll Tony Hawk", not whatever absurdly wrong name it'd have on Alternia, and not whatever Tony Hawk's duodecimal name in Alternian would be. :P

#homestuck #homestuck epilogues #upd8 #reaction #spoiler alert #jade harley #karkat vantas #dave strider #homestuck liveblog

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aslanjadecarlyle · 6 years

Text

Runaways Running The Night (Barlyle)

Modern AU

Title: Runaways Running The Night

Word Count: somewhere around 16,000, I don't even know man

---

Twelve.

That was the number that haunted Phillip Carlyle since he was eight years old.

Twelve visits to the hospital (more than that, if you counted the false alarms). Twelve surgeries. One of them was for his leg, but most of them were life-threatening, and all of them cost his parents a great deal of money. They were wealthy now - Phillip's father landed a job as some major executive when he was eleven and he himself wrote plays that, all things considered, rolled in quite a bit of cash. Even his mother, a woman who never worked a day in her life, was a money-saving goddess who learned how to tuck away cash back during the days when they struggled for an extra dollar.

But back then - starting from the day Phillip was three days old, up until just before his eighth birthday - all Phillip Carlyle knew was the inside of hospital rooms. With a total of twelve surgeries, he made visits to the children's ward of the ER more than once a year. But, in his eight year old mind, it was the IV that scared him more than literal brain surgery. He developed a lifelong phobia of needles early on and often had to be held down, kicking and screaming, despite the unbearable pain in his head, as the doctors injected him before he was put under with the sleeping gas.

All together, Phillip Carlyle was afraid of three things any normal eight year old boy shouldn't have to think about. Needles, for one - and death. Phillip was terrified of death. Having had life-threatening surgeries all his tender eight years of life, he was plagued with terrors about black, eternal nothingness - so much so that his parents considered taking him to a child therapist. They never did - unsurprisingly, his father bitched about the costs - and so Phillip grew up with an unrelenting, inescapable, paralyzing fear that only worsened and worsened as he grew older.

A month before his fifteenth birthday, he attempted suicide ("if I have to die, might as well get it over with") and, soon thereafter, developed panic attacks. He was dragged to therapy just once after he was caught in his attempt to take his own life, but never again after that - the therapy session was forgotten (he himself could hardly remember the details) and, as he got older, he learned to keep his anxiety and panic attacks to himself. He learned to control most of them, to weep about his paralyzing fears of growing old and dying in the middle of the night when nobody could help - or hit - him. He never attempted after that, never even took to harming himself, but the lonely tears came often.

The third thing Phillip Carlyle was afraid of... was his father.

Jonathan Carlyle did much more than bitch about the costs of his son's expensive medical coverage. When Phillip was still a child, he would hit the boy - throw him against walls, smack him, scream at him. He would laugh when Phillip hit his head - his condition, called hydrocephalus (loosely meaning "water on the brain"), required a shunt implant and that shunt, while magnetic, could pose serious dangers against Phillip if it malfunctioned and he wasn't rushed to the hospital in time. The condition was not technically terminal, but, if his shunt happened to malfunction (meaning, failed to drain the excess fluid from inside his head), a severe build-up of cerebral fluid would press against Phillip's skull - applying so much pressure, in fact, that he would be dead within hours if left untreated.

Once Phillip's father became successful and the Carlyle family found themselves in the public eye, the physical abuse stopped. The man could have continued the abuse, if he so desired - on top of having a life-threatening neurological condition, Phillip's body was also wracked with one-sided cerebral palsy that spread down his left side, half-paralyzing him below the waist - he walked with a permanent limp and, though he had control over the fingers of his left hand, he was overall physically weakened by the condition. He could walk, yes, he had no need for a wheelchair, but he could not so much as move the toes on his left foot. He was no match for his father, who was strong and able-bodied and could fling him around like a rag doll if he so desired.

However, Jonathan Carlyle could not afford the risk of the media noticing Phillip's black and blue bruises. So, most of the physical abuse stopped - in favor of emotional and mental torture, harsh words and threats that cut into Phillip's skin like glass. They were just words, he knew, just facts of life - but sometimes they still hurt when he cried at night over the maddening feeling of wanting to move his toes, but never being able to succeed because his foot was, really, hardly more than a deadweight. The cruel, damning words spiraled again and again in his head, never relenting except for when he finally succumbed to slumber.

"Limpy, limpy legs." (This particular insult was started by a student at school - Jonathan Carlyle overheard Phillip weeping to his mother about the offensive names one night and took great pleasure in using it against his son himself).

"Special needs bitch." (This name originated after a fight with Phillip's mother - though they never separated, they had teetered on the edge of divorce for a long while, and Jonathan had screamed this at his son, blaming him for the divorce, before storming out of the household. Unfortunately, they'd never gone through with the split).

As if the abuse at home wasn't enough, Phillip attended public school throughout high school and had to deal with the narrow-minded likes of able-bodied students and faculty there, too. He would never forget a particular incident Freshman year - though he had no mental disabilities whatsoever, the high school he attended enrolled him into a class for the severely mentally disabled. After just one day of being talked down to as if he were a child, Phillip came home weeping to his mother. At first, she was hesitant to do anything - insisting to Phillip that he needed to "learn his place" amongst the able-bodied norms of society. However after her son broke down in a school counselor's office the following day, Elizabeth Carlyle finally relented and they were able to pull him out of the "special" class. They spoke none of this to his father, in fear that the man would lash out.

Though, he came to find out, he never quite fit in with his supposedly "normal" classmates, either.

Years passed, graduation came and went, and Phillip, relieved to finally be out of the hellhole that was high school, turned to playwriting. He went to college (his anxiety crippled him even more so than he already was, but he couldn't bear to be around his hellish father any longer), studied literature, and became a fairly well-known playwright within a few years. Of course, his talent wasn't the only thing to make the news - his disabilities always made the headlines too, sometimes overshadowing the plays themselves. The able-bodied "normal" people always had to point out the permanent flaws that wracked his body, as if a disabled person finding success was some sort of mind-blowing miracle. On the other hand, when they weren't drowning him in empty, fake, sugary-sweet drops of praise, they lashed out at him. The characters in his plays rarely shared his disabilities and the reporters ragged him for it. They did not approve of his finding escape in characters that could wiggle all ten of their toes - something that he would never, ever be able to do.

On top of that, he was alone - the one and only sort-of girlfriend he'd had mid-Junior year broke up with him after finding out that he felt no attraction... between his legs. No matter how hard he tried, he could not make his body want sex - and the mere thought of faking it, of lying with someone even though he could not get his own sexual organs to work, absolutely repulsed him.

Nobody wanted to be with a freak whose body was half-broken.

Nobody wanted to be with a freak who could drop dead thanks to the ticking time bomb in their head at any given moment.

***

P.T. Barnum was not a stranger when it came to making the smallest amounts of money count. Still, it hurt - he was a self-made man and having to return to a lifestyle not much above his childhood of sleeping on the streets was a slap in the face. His company had suffered greatly thanks to his wife's embezzlement of millions. The money was hidden away somewhere - neither Barnum, nor his lawyers, could figure out where to even begin looking - and his wife... was dead. They'd found her at a remote home in some South American country - he couldn't remember which one. Her death came as a shock and he did miss her, but he couldn't help the relief that invaded him, too. Despite her name, Charity was a greedy woman - she'd grown up in wealth all her life and wasn't used to sharing. The scandal with Jenny Lind - a remarkable singer Barnum had met while on a business trip, but felt no real attraction for - had sent the woman over the edge. The last time he'd seen her, she'd threatened a court case against him - for what, exactly, he didn't know.

Thank the good God above he'd never had children with that woman. Though he did miss her nieces - Caroline and Helen - something terrible.

After his business began to fail, Barnum was forced to move from his sprawling mansion to a tiny apartment in an apartment complex filled with people who had absolutely no sense of humor. He tried going out, tried to move on with his life, but there weren't many places he could afford with his now extremely-restricted budget. The few dates he did go on bored him - the women were often left disappointed after finding out about all the money he had lost, and the men, well... even though this was, really, his first chance to explore the hidden realms of his sexuality in twenty-some odd years, he'd quickly learned that most men who felt the same attractions as he weren't looking for someone quite so much... older. Barnum could not ignore that he was a man in his mid-forties, and most of the men his own age had been harboring passionate relationships in secret for years - jumping at the chance to finally marry once the verdict became legalized nationwide.

Though a formerly successful suit-and-tie businessman, Barnum was truly a man of light, of passion, of laughter. He was not meant to live life alone in a dusty little apartment overlooking New York, and the drab days took their toll as he tried looking for work. He started to wilt, started to disconnect and forget why the life he was given was worth living at all.

And then Phillip Carlyle moved in across the hall.

P.T. was no stranger to Phillip Carlyle's work. He'd even gone to see a play once or twice himself, though he never much cared for sitting around and watching people talk on stage. Mostly, he knew Phillip Carlyle's name because of the news. When the reporters weren't talking about the young man's parents, - with whom the man, for reasons unknown, had a strained relationship - words like "cerebral palsy" were constantly tied to his name instead. That, and some odd, rare neurological condition that Barnum couldn't quite remember or place the name of.

He was surprised to see the young man move in - it was no secret that the Carlyle family was swimming in money, and the man himself had his own fairly successful profit, so why had he chosen to move into a dumpy little complex? It was a mystery that even P.T. Barnum couldn't figure out.

Still, Barnum was not asking these questions when they first bumped into each other. Phillip was a private man - didn't even come to the door when Barnum tried to introduce himself properly - and so their first exchange had been a chance encounter in the elevator.

"Ah, finally - the one and only Phillip Carlyle, in the flesh!" Barnum grinned, eyes beaming, teeth flashing white. Stunned, Phillip shrank into the corner of the elevator and tried making himself as small as possible. P.T. noticed that his left hand hung limply in front of him - Phillip had most control of his bad hand, but letting it hang was a habit that he sometimes fell into, without thinking, in public. Face flaming, he wrapped the fingers of his right hand around his left wrist and drew both hands to his chest.

"You - You know who I am?" Phillip asked.

"Well, of course. There's no escaping the Carlyle name."

Phillip's face burned even brighter and he stared down at his feet. He could not wear slip-on shoes - they slid off his bad foot and, foot being paralyzed, he could not easily work it into certain shoes in the first place. Instead, the dress shoes he wore were specially designed, and one was bigger than the other, as his bad foot was about half a shoe size smaller than his good one.

Eyes trailing back up to look at the grinning man in front of him, he said, in a voice so quiet he seemed almost afraid to speak, "and who, may I ask, are you?"

Barnum continued to smile as he held his hand out. "Phineas Taylor Barnum, at your service."

Phillip timidly took his hand and shook it - the playwright's hands were soft, used to writing instead of hard, physical labor. "Barnum? As in—"

Barnum's smile faded into a frown as they dropped hands. "Yes, yes. I... would rather not get into the details of my company at this time. It's been a rough few months, you understand."

Phillip nodded and stared down at the floor. Before Barnum could get another word in, the elevator stopped with a 'ding' and the doors opened. Phillip was quick to get out of there, but he limped as he hurried and Barnum took notice in the awkward way in which the man walked, dragging his left foot across the floor.

"Hey, wait a moment," Barnum called, stepping out of the elevator himself. Phillip tensed, then slowly turned to face the older man.

"What do you want?" he sighed.

"You've lived down the hall from me for days now and I hardly know a thing about you, Mr. Carlyle," Barnum explained, corner of his lip curling up into a slight smirk as he dragged out the man's family name. "How about going out for a drink? On me."

He really couldn't afford to be offering this man - despite his name, still a complete stranger - a drink, but... ah, well. He'd worry about that later.

Instead, though, alarm flashed in Phillip's ocean eyes.

"I don't drink," he mumbled hurriedly.

He limped away without another word.

***

Barnum hadn't seen Phillip since the encounter in the elevator last week. The younger man purposely made sure to avoid him - Barnum didn't quite know why, but he had suspicions that he might have come on just a... little too strong, perhaps. He couldn't help it, though - he craved human interaction like a drug, and nobody in the complex even bothered to talk to him.

Now it seemed that Phillip wouldn't, either.

Ah, well. It hurt more than it should, seeing Phillip hurry away from him like he was a man on fire, but... what could he do? Apologize, perhaps, but he wasn't quite sure what he'd be apologizing for - and he was fairly certain Phillip wouldn't let him get a word in inch-wise, anyway, without taking off.

It'd been about a week since speaking with Phillip in the elevator, and Barnum was sat in his apartment, newspaper clippings spread before him on the coffee table. He couldn't afford a decent computer - he was practically living on fresh air, yet again - and so he was forced to comb through the newspapers for a job like it was the 1980s and he was on the verge of going homeless all over again.

He was interrupted from his mind-numbingly boring search (seriously - did anyone in New York genuinely enjoy working full-time jobs?) by the sounds of a shout and a startled scream coming from down the hall.

Immediately casting the newspapers aside, Barnum jumped to his feet (almost, he thought, chuckling to himself, like a superhero ready to save the city) and left his apartment. He entered the hall just in time to see someone slam Phillip's front door shut, head low, black hair in his face, grumbling to himself as he buttoned up his jeans. He had a t-shirt on and angry, frantic scratches down one of his tanned arms.

Eyes wide, Barnum watched the man go - he seemed a bit older than Phillip, perhaps in his late thirties - and waited until the man disappeared around the corner before approaching the front door of the apartment himself. He hesitated for a moment, then rapped his knuckles on the door three times.

"Phillip? Are you in there? It's me - Phineas."

Silence.

He called for Phillip again and, when he didn't get an answer, hesitantly tried the doorknob. The door was still unlocked and swung open with ease. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Barnum stepped into the little apartment and shut the door behind him.

He was first stunned by how... neat the apartment was. Phillip had moved in not very long ago, but everything was tucked away, all prim and proper. Though the apartment itself was small in size, Phillip had chosen to splurge some of his money on finer works of furniture - the kind of furniture that Barnum had seen taken away from him after the Charity fiasco. Among the furniture, Barnum took note of the tall bookshelves standing floor-to-ceiling against the walls. With just a brief glance, it appeared that Phillip had everything from Shakespeare to Kurt Vonnegut to J.K. Rowling.

Barnum was snapped out of his inspection of the bookshelves by a high-pitched, frantic barking coming from a partially-opened door. A small Yorkshire Terrier appeared in the doorway, and Barnum chuckled as it snarled at him.

"Hey there, little guy. Have you seen Phillip around?"

At the mention of his master's name, the Yorkie silenced - then tilted its head and whined. Turning its back on the man, it retreated into the room it came from. Barnum hesitated for just a moment before following it in.

Phillip sat on a bed, legs drawn up to his chin with his arms wrapped around them, face buried in his knees. The Yorkie climbed onto the bed and whined again, lying its chin on Phillip's arm.

"Not now, Benji," he choked.

Instead of obeying, the Yorkie - Benji? - pawed at Phillip's arm and whined. Sighing, Phillip lifted his head.

"What do you wa—"

He froze upon seeing Barnum standing in the doorway. His face lost all color and his breath hitched, starting to come out in short, little gasps. Benji whined and nuzzled his face in Phillip's arm as his panicked eyes fixed themselves on Barnum.

"What are you doing here?" he gasped.

"I apologize," Barnum said, motioning toward the front door. "I heard a scream from my apartment and came out to see what was wrong. I saw a man leave here and I... are you all right?"

Barnum was alarmed to see Phillip lower his head, tears streaking down his cheeks. He hugged his legs closer to his chest and Benji whined as he climbed into Phillip's lap.

"I'm fine," Phillip muttered. "Please - just go away."

Barnum glanced toward the exit again, but turned back to Phillip. Sighing, he approached the bed and sat on the edge. Phillip cringed, but didn't say a word.

He was fully clothed, but Barnum had to ask - "Did he... hurt you?"

"No," Phillip choked.

"If he hurt you, Phillip, I can—"

"We've been...seeing each other," Phillip spat out. He sniffled and took a deep, shuddering breath. "Nothing serious, but a - a few dates, off and on, these last few weeks. I told him that I didn't - that I didn't—"

He froze and choked up, burying his face into his knees again. Barnum hesitated, then slowly wrapped his arm around the younger man's slumped shoulders. Phillip flinched, but didn't pull away.

"You didn't what, Phil...lip?" Barnum asked, adding the second syllable to the man's name as an afterthought.

"I - I don't—" Phillip took another deep breath and rubbed his eyes. "I... I don't feel—"

His voice cracked and another sob escaped his throat. Benji whined, placing his front paws on Phillip's stomach, and the younger man dropped a hand to scratch behind the dog's ears. Almost subconsciously, he rested his head against Barnum's upper arm.

Surprised, Barnum slowly wrapped the arm around Phillip's shoulders and pulled him closer. Phillip lifted his head then, and tried to pull away, but Barnum shook his head no.

"It's all right," he murmured. "Take your time."

"I'm sorry," Phillip whimpered. He lifted Benji up and buried his face in the dog's soft fur. "This is so embarrassing," he muttered as Benji started to frantically lick his tear-stained cheeks.

"Can you tell me about that man again?" Barnum coaxed. He didn't have children, but the way in which he spoke reminded him of the way he would talk to his dead wife's nieces.

"You wouldn't understand," Phillip murmured. He shifted, repositioning his seat, and Barnum took notice that, while his right foot was bare, his left foot was still encased in a white sock.

"Try me," Barnum challenged. He lifted an eyebrow and a familiar smirk played at his lips.

"Would you want to be with someone who didn't want sex?"

The question was blunt and Barnum stared at the younger man a moment as the words sank in. He tilted his head to the side, lips just slightly parted.

"Is that why that man stormed out of here? Because you... rejected him?"

Phillip sighed. It was long and heavy and sad, and, for reasons he couldn't quite figure out, Barnum's heart twisted in his chest.

"I can't... bring myself... to want anyone," he muttered. Then he laughed, bitterly. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this. You're a fucking stranger. But I can't... I don't—" He motioned toward his lap and Barnum, unthinkingly, followed with his eyes. When Phillip sighed again, he jerked his head upward to meet the younger's eyes, mentally smacking himself. "I don't feel anything... down there. I can't - my left side is paralyzed below the waist. I can't move the... muscles... necessary..." He drifted off, face burning bright red. He buried his face in his hands again.

Finally finding his voice, Barnum cleared his throat. "Nobody should want you just for sex, Phillip. And nobody should ever, ever attempt to force you into it."

Phillip didn't look up and didn't say a word. After a minute passed with no reaction, Barnum - not even thinking about the fact that this was only his second encounter with the man - impulsively drew Phillip into a hug. Benji yipped, caught in between the two men, and scrambled out of Phillip's lap. He barked in irritation before settling by Phillip's feet, carefully watching Barnum's every move.

Phillip managed a small chuckle at the dog's antics, and Barnum smiled as Phillip slowly wrapped his arms around him, returning the hug. Slowly, Barnum moved his hand up into Phillip's hair - pausing only when he felt a peculiar bump near the back of Phillip's head.

"Did he hit you?" Barnum inquired at once as they pulled away.

"What?"

"That man, did he... strike you? When you refused him?"

Phillip frowned. Then he brought his hand up to the back of his head, rubbing a finger over the spot where Barnum had his hand just moments before. Realization dawned on him, and his face fell. He stared at the wall.

"That's just my shunt," he muttered.

"Your... what?"

"The only thing keeping me alive," Phillip scoffed. "Surely you've heard about my 'condition.' All the reporters eat it up."

Barnum stared at him, blankly.

"Hydrocephalus. The shunt itself functions as a drain, and redirects the cerebral fluid build-up on my brain."

He got nothing, but a tilted head and confused smile in response.

Phillip sighed heavily and shifted to get up off the bed. "It's all right. I don't blame you for... for not knowing. People are so blind to all of the disabilities and sicknesses plaguing the world unless it's somehow impacting their own lives—"

"I'm sorry," Barnum interrupted. He reached out and curled his fingers around Phillip's wrist. The younger man looked down, wide-eyed, then back up at him, but didn't say a word. "I've heard of it, I've seen it in the papers. I just... forgot for a moment. Please, stay?"

Phillip stared at the man. He wanted to say no, but a feeling of...something...

(longing)

overcame him and he nodded, taking his seat next to Barnum once more. Barnum smiled softly and reached his head around to trace the odd bump in Phillip's head once more, fingers encased in the ultimate softness of his hair.

"Does it hurt?"

"My... shunt?"

Barnum nodded wordlessly.

Phillip shook his head. He reached back, his fingers tracing over Barnum's hand. "I haven't had a surgery - shunt or otherwise - since I was eight years old. Almost twenty-two years." He smiled wryly. "That's a lot in this game. I have no way of knowing when the next malfunction will be. And there are some things that I can't do because it might fuck up - I've never been on a rollercoaster with loops. And I collapsed in an underground cavern once, when I was fourteen, because different gravitational pulls can put too much or too little pressure on it."

Barnum's smile fell. "I'm sorry, Phil—"

"Don't pity me," Phillip snapped. Then he cringed, and sighed. "I'm... sorry. It's just... after dealing with pitying comments all your life, it gets really old really fast. And I'm not even halfway to sixty yet."

Barnum nodded, not knowing what to say. He glanced over at Benji, who had curled up, asleep, at the far corner of the bed.

"Well," he cleared his throat, standing after a moment of silence. "I'm glad you're okay, Phillip. I didn't mean to intrude, and I do sincerely apologize for barging in like I did. I'll leave you alone now."

He turned, with the full intention of leaving the room.

"Bar - Phineas, wait."

Barnum had to hold back a gasp when he felt a soft, warm hand intertwine their fingers. He looked down at Phillip, who looked up at him with bright, uncertain eyes.

"I... I don't drink, but I'd... still like to take you up on that offer, if that's all right? Perhaps somewhere with less alcohol. And... people." He wrinkled his nose.

A low, hearty chuckle erupted from within Barnum's chest. He gave Phillip's hand the tiniest of squeezes as he nodded, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"I think we can figure something out."

***

There was nothing in the world that Phillip loved more than books.

When Barnum suggested, upon thinking back to all of the shelves he'd seen in Phillip's apartment, going to a hybrid coffee shop/book store a few blocks down, Phillip couldn't hold back his excitement. He'd flung himself at Barnum, arms wrapped loosely around his neck, before it registered with him what he'd done and he backed off quickly, murmuring apologies under his breath.

Barnum assured him that it was fine, he didn't mind, but on the inside his heart swelled. He cursed himself, telling himself that it may have been man storming out of Phillip's apartment earlier, but that didn't mean Phillip wanted anything to do with him in... that way. They were still practically strangers, he wasn't even out to Phillip yet... and, even if he was, Phillip wouldn't want him. He was so much older (and had been ditched because of his age time and time again), had too many financial troubles...

But, God, Phillip was beautiful.

He sat at a table, sipping his coffee (that he could barely afford) and watching with a smile as Phillip roamed the endless bookshelves. He came back with a stack of three or four books and set them on the table.

"Careful," Barnum chuckled, eyes roaming the spines of the books, taking in the titles. "You'll spill your coffee."

A light pink blush settled over Phillip's cheeks as he finally sat down and took a sip of the drink Barnum had ordered for him. Grimacing, he reached for the sugar.

Barnum laughed.

"What?" Phillip scowled, dipping a spoon into the sugar. "We're not all barbarians like you, y'know."

"Phillip, that coffee is already five shades lighter than the coffee gods ever intended coffee to be. How sweet do you need it?"

"I won't be happy 'til I've gone into diabetic shock, thank you."

Barnum laughed - a loud, rumbling sound that instantly brought attention to their table - and took a sip of his own near-black drink. Phillip eyed it with disgust, nose scrunched up, tongue poking out from between his lips.

"I tried black coffee once. Never again."

"I added sugar!"

"Yeah - maybe a speck."

Barnum smiled around his mug as he took another sip.

"Psychopath," Phillip muttered, shaking his head again. But the corners of his lips lifted up into a tiny smile, too.

***

The kiss upon Phillip's cheek was impulsive, accidental. Phillip stepped back, eyes wide, hand up to his face.

Barnum's eyes were equally as wide, equally as horrified. He swallowed, hard, and half-expected Phillip to run into his apartment, lock the door, and never speak to him again.

Instead, a slow smile spread across Phillip's face and he traced a finger along Barnum's jaw. He tilted his head, staring at the older man for a moment.

"Thank you for today, Phineas," he mumbled. Then, he slowly reached up and returned the kiss to Barnum's cheek.

He went inside and Barnum walked down the hall to his own apartment, face warm and belly doing somersaults like a schoolboy with his first crush.

***

A few nights later, after a trip down to the park (an outing together that, thankfully, wouldn't cost Barnum any money), they found themselves in Phillip's apartment. The sun was just beginning to set and, instead of parting ways like they normally would, Barnum simply followed Phillip inside.

Benji barked in that high-pitched, shrill sound, but seemed to remember Barnum - the man who'd been stealing his owner away these past few days - and settled down quicker than the first night the man and canine had met. Phillip smiled and knelt down, not caring that he was getting dog hair all over his dark pants. He hugged the dog to his chest and buried his face into Benji's soft fur.

"Family pet?" Barnum asked. He sat down in an armchair, crossing one leg over the other.

Phillip looked up, his face bright red. He clutched at the dog and Barnum was alarmed to see tears brimming at the corners of his eyes. He uncrossed his legs and sat perched at the edge of the seat, face contorting with concern.

Benji, sensing his owner's distress, licked Phillip's cheek and whined. Tears fell from Phillip's face, matting into the Yorkie's soft fur, and he shook with the effort to even out his breathing.

"I-I'm sorry," he gasped. "He's an... e-emotional support dog. Because I c-can't—"

He choked on a sob and Benji licked his face again, whining. Then the dog looked over at Barnum, with an expression of freakishly human-like concern crossing his face, and barked.

Barnum dropped to the floor and slowly crawled toward Phillip, who was still on his knees. He wrapped his arms around the younger man and felt him shake underneath his touch.

"Shhh," he murmured. "I'm sorry, Phillip, I didn't know—"

"N-No," Phillip whimpered. He scratched behind Benji's ears and the dog licked his face again. As the shaking slowly began to subside, he held the dog to his chest like a mother cradling an infant. "I... I know it's stupid. H-He's supposed to help...c-calm me down," he trembled with the effort to speak, "b-because I... I have... a-attacks, and—"

"You don't have to explain anymore, 'Lip," Barnum murmured - the nickname slipped out like honey and he didn't even realize it.

"I'm a... a f-freak," Phillip muttered. He couldn't even look at the man. "I can't even c-control my a-attacks anymore... I—"

"None of that," Barnum snapped. His tone was sharp, but he held Phillip close and stroked his face, his hair. "Lots of people have anxiety, Phillip. Lots of people have support animals. Please don't think you're anything less because of it."

Phillip hid his face in Barnum's chest and Barnum just sat there, holding him close, until he was ready to look up again. His eyes were red-rimmed and watery.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"None of tha—"

"You didn't let me finish." Phillip managed a tiny smile on shaking lips and rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry f-for... not even showing you around. I'm a terrible apartment host."

Barnum stared at him. As Phillip shifted, edging out of Barnum's hold, and stood up (Benji hopped out of his arms), the older man laughed.

"Yes," he teased. He looked at the main living space, which was designed as a living room and kitchen in one, and grinned. "Please, show me around this sprawling apartment."

Phillip smiled again, shakily, and held out his hand. Barnum took it, stood up, and was led on a five-second tour.

The last place they ended up, somehow, was the bathroom. It was hardly big enough to accommodate both of them and they stood almost intimately close.

"I - I don't think I have anything that'll fit you," Phillip muttered, eyeing Barnum's chest with pink-tinted cheeks.

"I could run to my apartment," Barnum offered. "I'll be right back."

"Are you sure? You don't have—"

"I live right down the hall, Phillip." Barnum teased, lightly playing with the collar of Phillip's shirt. "I'm not going to die in some freak fire while I'm gone."

Blushing harder, Phillip nodded. He walked Barnum to the door, with Barnum promising he'd be back in just a few minutes.

Back in his own apartment, he retrieved a change of clothes for that night and the next day. He stopped in the bathroom to brush his teeth, and he packed the toothbrush with him before exiting his own apartment. He paused again to close and lock the door, and then made his way to Phillip's residence, feeling like an excited little kid going to his very first sleepover.

Phillip's door was unlocked so he stepped inside. Phillip himself was nowhere around in the living room or kitchen, and he smiled to himself as he pushed open the bedroom door.

"Hey 'Lip, I—"

He paused.

Phillip stood facing the door, pajama bottoms on and in the process of taking off his shirt. He stared at Barnum like a deer caught in headlights and quickly yanked his shirt back down... but not before Barnum caught sight of the scars.

There were several littering his chest and stomach, but he zeroed in on one in particular. It indented deep into his skin, right above his naval, about three inches long, vertical, with a bunch of tinier horizontal markings crisscrossing it. Further down, below his naval and just above his waist, was a fainter, horizontal scar - one that was hardly visible, but it was aligned directly beneath the harsher, bigger marking.

Slowly, Barnum looked up into Phillip's eyes - shining with tears again that threatened to spill over. The younger man said nothing as he sat on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands.

"Phil—"

"You weren't supposed to see that."

"Phil, that scar looked... like it's been messed with—"

Phillip shook his head. "My... mother... wanted any surgery scars to be as close together as possible so they wouldn't... blemish multiple areas of my body. S-So each criss-cross represents a new shunt replacement - except they extended the most recent one, the one I got when I was eight, a little further down. That's the fainter one."

"And... the others?"

Phillip laughed bitterly. "You can thank my father for those. My mother's scar rule doesn't really apply when he took time out of his days to permanently remind me of what a fucking burden I am."

"He... hit—?"

"He did a lot more than just hit," Phillip sighed. He didn't go into further detail after that - his breathing was clipped as he struggled not to cry again.

Barnum strode across the room and enveloped Phillip in a strong, comforting embrace. The younger man buried his face in Barnum's shoulder, soaking his shirt with the tears that he couldn't hold back.

From the living room, Benji yelped. Then he came running.

"It's all right," Barnum whispered over and over again, rubbing the younger man's back. The dog at their feet whined and stood on his back legs, trying to get Phillip to pick him up. Phillip didn't notice and the dog settled for lying at his feet, nipping at his toes.

His toes that, Barnum noticed, were encased in socks.

"Phil..." Barnum murmured, holding the man at arm's length, tilting his chin up to look him in the eye. "Scars are nothing to be ashamed of, darling."

Phillip gasped at the nickname, but then he shook his head and jerked his face away. Barnum cupped his cheek in his hand and brought the man to face him again, as his other hand slowly lifted his shirt. Phillip tensed, but didn't try to yank away.

Barnum used the hand underneath Phillip's shirt to run a thumb over a jagged scar, slightly raised on the skin. He didn't ask for an explanation, but Phillip closed his eyes.

"A bottle," he sighed.

Barnum paused, and tilted his head.

"I d-don't drink because I'm... scared of accidentally blacking out and hitting my head," Phillip muttered. "When I was... nine or ten I found my father blackout drunk on the ground in the kitchen - this was before we were in the public eye all the time. I tried to wake him up and he... cut me... with pieces of a bottle that had shattered after he'd dropped it."

"Oh, Phillip."

Phillip closed his eyes again, tears wettening his lashes. Barnum half-wanted to lift his shirt further, to massage every one of the younger man's horror-filled blemishes, but he let the shirt drop and gently cupped the playwright's face in his hands.

Phillip's eyes fluttered open. "Phineas, wha—"

Barnum's lips were warm on his and his lips parted as he gasped, feeling his body tense. He was rather impartial to kissing - the idea of another person's saliva in his mouth didn't particularly appeal to him - but the way Barnum held him - one hand cupping his face, the other pressing into his back - made him relax and, slowly, he raised his hands up to entangle his fingers in the other man's hair.

The idea of being anywhere near another person's exposed genitals still repulsed him, made his skin crawl, but this... yes, he thought he could get used to this - to Barnum - just fine.

Barnum broke the kiss slowly, as if wanting to hold onto Phillip for as long as possible. His hand left Phillip's back and rose to cradle his face. Phillip leaned into the touch, blushing pink and smiling softly. He bit his lip, and Barnum chuckled.

"You're beautiful, 'Lip," Barnum ran his thumb along the other man's jaw before pulling him into a tight hug.

As Phillip laid his head against Barnum's shoulder, he had to fight to hold back the same tears that Barnum had, moments ago, kept from falling. He'd had a few relationships over the years, but none ever lasted long... and nobody ever called him beautiful. He was a cripple, whether he liked it or not, and nobody ever wanted the extra burden that came with the possibility of brain surgery looming over every corner. Hell, they didn't even want a person who couldn't—

Who couldn't—

"I can't," Phillip whimpered, pushing Barnum away. He pressed his hands to his eyes - he cried more than enough around Barnum. He wasn't going to cry again here, not now.

"What's wrong?"

He flinched when he felt the familiar rough, soft hand against his cheek. He kept his hands to his eyes.

Not here, not now.

"I can't give you what you want," Phillip whimpered again, dropping his hands from his face as he took a frantic step back.

Benji barked.

"'What I want'? Phillip, darling, what are you—"

Barnum paused, mouth forming a slight 'o' shape as he looked at Phillip as if seeing him in a whole new light.

"You think I won't want you... because I can't... fuck you?"

Coming from Barnum, it sounded so stupid and Phillip bit his lip so hard that he drew blood, just to keep from crying again. He winced and mentally kicked himself - why are you so weak, Phillip? why? - and shrank away as Barnum tried to reach out. The older man grabbed him by the wrist, his grip loose, but Phillip flinched against the wall nonetheless.

"Please don't... don't h-hit me," he whispered, cowering against the wall, trying to make himself as tiny as possible. He could feel the blood dribbling down his lip, to his chin, could taste something metallic on his tongue, but he didn't care about that. Instead, he brought his hands up to his head - his father knew all his weak spots, who's to say Barnum didn't, too? - and squeezed his eyes shut.

On the floor, Benji barked and barked. Whining, he clawed at Phillip's pajama leg and, sensing his distress, turned to growl at Barnum. He sat perched with his ears pulled back - despite being such a small dog, he was ready to attack if need be - and snarled at the older man.

"Phillip," Barnum's voice broke and he cringed. "I'm not going to hit you."

He wanted to approach him, but, between the dog and the fact that Phillip looked ready to flee if he so much as touched his shoulder, he held himself back and watched with helpless eyes.

"Please, darling. I would never..."

He drifted off when he noticed Phillip peering out from between his fingers like a child cowering from a neglectful parent. Then, he realized, like a sharp punch to the gut, that perhaps Phillip was. Barnum was a big man and older by at least fifteen years. And that man that Barnum had seen angrily stalking out of Phillip's apartment several days ago, the one that had practically started all of this... he had to have been older than Phillip by at least five years, if not five more. If he had reacted in a violent way to Phillip rejecting him for sex...

Barnum was not a stranger to emotion, but, ever since Charity turned his life upside down, the more sensitive side to the businessman had, for a lack of better words, taken a backseat. There was a period of time before Phillip moved in, alone in the apartment complex, where Barnum had felt... empty, but not necessarily sad. The depression that had hit him in that short period of time had been something out of lack of motivation. Not true despair.

Now, though, as he stared upon a weeping man he had only known for a few weeks, true sadness hit him. For the first time in a long time, he felt a hitch in his breath that might suggest tears. He was horrified that Phillip had been misused so much, misguided so much, that he would be genuinely led to believe that he deserved to be hit, physically abused, over something as... over-exaggerated as sex. Sex was good, but, despite what the modern expectations of society wanted everyone to believe, it didn't define everything in a relationship.

And Barnum, truth be told, could live without it. He was getting older, it was not the most important thing in his life. Hell, wed to Charity, it never really had been.

"I'm not going to hit you," Barnum said again, voice like a low rumble, thick with emotion and coming from deep within his chest. He stayed back, knowing his place, but his fingers twitched - he yearned to hold Phillip.

Then he was struck with an idea.

Barnum turned and left the bedroom. Crossing into the semi-familiar living space, he hurried over to the bookshelves and selected a random book. Taking a deep breath, he set the book on the coffee table and then called for Phillip.

No reaction.

Barnum stared at the doorway to the bedroom, biting the inside of his cheek. Then he grabbed the book from the table and went back to the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him.

When the door shut with a 'click,' Phillip jumped. His hands fell from his face and his eyes widened in alarm.

"I'm sorry," Barnum said at once, opening the door again. Then, he sat on the bed with his book in lap and motioned Phillip forward. "Sit with me?"

Phillip backed up, face as white as a sheet. His hand hung in front of him again, but this time he didn't take notice.

"I've got a book for you," Barnum told him. He held up the book so Phillip could see the cover.

The words blurred in Phillip's teary vision, but he just managed to make them out. "The... N-Night Circus?"

"Have you read it?"

"Not... yet," he whispered.

Barnum reached out, without rising from the bed, and this time Phillip let him hold his hand. He gently pulled Phillip forward and the younger man sat next to him on the mattress. They sat practically thigh-to-thigh and Barnum could feel him shaking.

"Can you read this to me?" he requested softly, handing the book to Phillip.

The book shook so violently in Phillip's trembling hands that Barnum wasn't sure how the younger man could even read the words on the page, but he did. As he started to read, his voice slowly evened out and his hands stilled.

"The c-c-circus arrives without w-w-warning..."

***

Phillip finally fell asleep slumped against Barnum's shoulder, The Night Circus falling into his lap. Barnum kissed his forehead as he laid him down and, before tucking him beneath the covers, he slowly removed the man's socks.

He paused, and sucked in a breath.

Phillip's right foot was normal, but his left one, the one effected with cerebral palsy, was smaller and narrower. His paralyzed toes flexed slightly in his sleep, giving a tiny implication of movement, but they bunched together, unable to move on their own. The second-to-smallest toe seemed somewhat overlapped by the two surrounding it, and the padding on Phillip's big toe was rough with callouses from the way he carried himself on that particular foot.

Glancing up at Phillip's sleeping face, Barnum kissed his cheek and pulled back. Balling the socks and tossing them into the hamper, Barnum got off the bed, gathered his clothing, and went to change in the bathroom. Upon returning, he crawled underneath the covers and drew Phillip close to him. Tension still thrummed through the younger man's sleeping body and Barnum cradled him to his chest as he rubbed his back.

He fell asleep with Phillip held tight in his arms.

***

Barnum was woken in the middle of the night by a cry.

Turning over, he peered sleepily at Phillip, who had the covers thrown to the side. He stared down at his feet, chewing at his healing lip.

"Phil?" Barnum mumbled. Glancing blearily at the clock, he saw it was just past two in the morning. "What are you doing up?"

His head snapped upwards and he looked at Barnum in alarm. "Where are my socks?" he asked.

"I... put them in the hamper." Barnum sat up, confused, and watched as Phillip scrambled for his dresser and pulled out a fresh pair. As he slipped them onto his feet, Barnum said, "you don't have to do that."

"Yes I do," Phillip whispered, choking over his own words.

"Phil—"

Phillip sighed as he glanced down toward the end of the bed, where Barnum's own feet were still covered by the blankets. "You have perfect feet, just like everyone else. You... You don't know how maddening it is to not be able to move your own toes. I don't want to see them," he said, avoiding Barnum's gaze.

With a sigh, Barnum reached out. Something troubled was hidden in Phillip's eyes and he had a feeling it had something more to do with just feet. Phillip let Barnum take him, but did not reciprocate.

"Talk to me," Barnum urged. He tilted Phillip's face up, peered into his eyes. "You have bags underneath your eyes, darling." He sounded awestruck, like he was just discovering them for the first time. How had he not noticed before that Phillip wasn't getting any sleep?

"It's not important." Phillip shook his head.

"You're losing sleep."

"It's nothing I'm not used to."

Barnum stared at him as he tried to figure what to say that would make Phillip talk to him. Phillip shifted, crossing his legs so he sat criss-cross style, and sighed.

"It's nothing, Phineas. Please," he rested his hand against Barnum's cheek, "don't worry about it."

"I want you to be able to talk to me." Barnum took hold of Phillip's wrist, lowered the playwright's hand from his face, and slowly rubbed circles into Phillip's palm. "You don't have to be afraid around me," he lowered his eyes, "please know that."

When he looked up again, Phillip's lips were trembling. He pulled his hand away and scooted toward the edge of the bed. Barnum thought he was going to get up and leave the room, but he simply sat, perched on the edge of the bed, and leaned forward. He shivered, though Barnum wasn't sure if it was because he was cold, or because of the words that he confessed.

"I have... anxiety attacks, alone at night."

He sounded like he was fighting to spit out every word, but he didn't sound ready to cry. Barnum shifted behind him, and wrapped his arms around Phillip's shoulders, holding him close.

"We can get you help," he whispered, though he didn't have the slightest clue how he would afford it. He showered Phillip's neck with lighter-than-air kisses, silently urging him to continue.

Phillip sighed. "A therapist isn't going to help me, Phineas. At least, I... I don't think they will. It's not something that - that—"

He paused, hesitated. Barnum laid his head on Phillip's shoulder, silently urging him to continue.

Phillip's next confession was whispered so silently that Barnum had to strain to hear him.

"I stay up at night thinking about... f-fearing... death."

Barnum took a deep breath. His parents both passed when he was a child, his father going when he'd been about fifteen. He knew how scary the thought could be - though, his experience with death had been more losing the people around him. Not so much worrying about it himself - he took it more as, simply, a fact of life.

"Phillip, we all—"

"You don't understand," Phillip whispered. "I can feel it."

"I—"

Barnum didn't know what to say to that.

Phillip trembled, but didn't cry. "I had... my first surgery when I was three days old. They had a week to install the first shunt, or else I would've died without ever knowing life. Growing up, I had... a dozen surgeries, one on my leg, but the others all shunt related. They were all fucking terrifying, but there was one in particular when I was five. My parents almost waited too late - when my shunt fucks up, I only have hours. Hours, Phineas, and my father refused to take me to the hospital because he thought I was making the pain up. It wasn't until I collapsed that they... r-rushed me there, almost too late. My parents almost had to buy a child-sized c-coffin because I couldn't get myself to the hospital."

Barnum felt a lump in his throat. He buried his face in Phillip's hair.

"I can... feel it. The blackness, the nothingness, the feeling of nonexistence. I've... always been highly empathetic." Phillip struggled to take a deep breath, struggled to force air into his lungs. "I don't have to experience something to know what it feels like. And I - when I imagine death, that's what it is. Nothing."

It was dark, Phillip had his back to Barnum, but he could hear Phillip sniffle. Regardless of whether he was crying or not, Barnum brought him into the tightest, warmest embrace, and guided Phillip's hand up to his own heart.

"As long as you feel that beat, you don't have to be afraid," Barnum promised.

Turning, Phillip found himself captured in a kiss. It was slow, Barnum's lips were warm, and he sighed against the older man's mouth. Barnum pulled them chest to chest and Phillip swore he could feel the thrum of the older man's heart. When they pulled away, Phillip put his hand to Barnum's chest.

Hands on Phillip's arms, Barnum slowly laid back, pulling Phillip with him. Phillip shifted, fitting next to P.T. like a puzzle piece. He wrapped his arm around Barnum's chest, drinking in the heat and his heartbeat, as he sighed.

"As long as I'm here, you won't have to go through that alone." Barnum's hand was in Phillip's hair, running through the soft, slept-on locks, gently thumbing over the indentions that marked Phillip's shunt. Phillip whimpered.

"I wouldn't want to wake you—" he started.

"You've been alone for so long, Phillip. I don't give a fuck if it's nine p.m. or four a.m. Wake me up. Whatever you do, just please don't go through those terrors alone again."

"Phin—"

"Promise me."

Phillip looked at Barnum. His face was hidden within the shadows of the dark room, but his intense eyes glittered, locking onto Phillip's. Slowly, Phillip finally nodded as he laid down against Barnum's shoulder.

"I promise," he whispered.

***

Before they went back to bed, Barnum urged Phillip to take off his socks.

He protested at first - he didn't want anyone taking notice of his messed up foot, not even in the privacy of his own bedroom - but finally relented after quiet, heartfelt promises telling him that it was all right, it was just a foot, it was just the two of them in the room (besides Benji, who slept curled by the door), and nobody would make fun of him for it.

So Phillip went to bed with his socks off, legs entwined with Barnum's as they slept face-to-face.

***

Weeks passed, slowly dissolving into months. They became even closer, stayed with each other more and more. Phillip started to crave Barnum's warmth and his gentle, loving touches that he danced across the younger man's body.

Sometimes, when Barnum was asleep, Phillip would lie awake. But though the ever-lurking threat of death always lingered at the back of his mind, that's not what kept him up at night and he never felt the need to wake Barnum. Instead, as he looked upon Barnum's sleeping face, he would kiss his hair, his eyelids. He would hug Barnum close and wonder how he'd gotten so lucky.

If they'd never met in that elevator, who knew whether they'd ever end up speaking, despite living right down the hall from one another?

Worries did still plague Phillip, though. Sometimes, when Barnum tightened his arms around him, or rose his hand in greeting, Phillip would flinch. He couldn't shake the fear that, someday, Barnum would snap - demand sex from him, perhaps even try to force him down. The playwright couldn't figure out how Barnum hadn't, yet - hell, if Barnum pleasured himself at all, it was never while Phillip was around. He had no idea how a man like P.T. could stand being with someone who wouldn't - couldn't - perform sexually.

He tried his best to hide these feelings from P.T., but P.T. wasn't blind. He noticed when Phillip would recoil away from his touch.

They had taken up to reading together, which often featured Phillip reading to Barnum in his living room. They were about a third of the way through The Night Circus and that day, Phillip settled himself in Barnum's lap. They both wore sweats, enjoying a lazy, rainy day inside, and, so long as Barnum didn't try coaxing the organ between Phillip's legs to life, he could relax. He enjoyed settling in the older man's lap, Barnum's arms around him, book opened to their next advancement in the world of magic. Barnum would often lie his head back, close his eyes, and soak in the sounds of Phillip's silky smooth voice as he read to him.

That day, however, as Phillip read, lost in a world of magicians and dark competitions, he felt... fingers. Creeping up his inner thigh, getting dangerously close to a certain spot below his waist.

He gasped and moved so quickly that he practically tumbled off Barnum's lap, to the floor. The book slammed shut on the tips of his fingers and he winced - from shock rather than pain - but everything happened far too quickly for him to even register what was going on.

Barnum shot up, sat up straight in his seat, and looked at Phillip with wide eyes. He rubbed at his face as he asked, "What's happened? Are you all right?"

Benji had taken to tending to Phillip and was already in his lap, licking at his fingers. Phillip used his free hand to wipe at his eyes. As he gazed upon Barnum now, he didn't see a smirking man with wandering hands - rather, just a man in sweats and disheveled hair who looked half-asleep, having started to lull off to the sound of Phillip's voice.

Phillip's face burned bright and he glued his eyes onto the dog in his lap. He looked up only when he felt fingers lifting his chin, and shied away from the touch.

"Phillip."

Barnum's eyes held nothing but concern. A lump formed in Phillip's throat that he couldn't force down.

"Did I do something wrong?" Barnum asked, quietly.

"N-No," Phillip gulped. "It's... stupid."

Barnum sighed and rubbed his thumb across the younger man's cheek. Instead of shying away again, Phillip leaned into the touch. "I notice when you flinch away from me."

Phillip froze. His eyes flicked to Barnum's like a deer caught in headlights.

"I'm not going to touch you," Barnum swore, "not unless you want it. Please, darling. Trust me."

Phillip glanced down at Barnum's other hand, the one that he had rested on his knee. That hand wasn't touching him, not in any way, but Barnum saw the way he looked at him, like a child waiting to be disciplined by a parent.

"Phillip." Barnum pulled away and rested both hands on his knees, palms facing upward. "I. Will. Not. Hurt. You."

Phillip closed his eyes. In his blackened vision, he saw the man he'd brought back to his apartment several weeks - months? - ago. He saw the man hovering over him, shirtless, a hand raised, ready to strike if Phillip didn't lie on the bed like a good little boy and take it. It was only when he'd screamed, and clawed and kicked the man that he'd left the apartment, growling and grumbling under his breath.

"—with me? Are you with me, 'Lip?"

Barnum gasped when Phillip kissed him, falling backward and briefly supporting himself on his hands when he felt Phillip's lips on his. Then he straightened up, kissing back just momentarily before gently pulling Phillip away from him.

"I'm sorry," the younger man murmured, encircling his arms around Barnum and lying his head on his chest. He felt a comforting hand on his back and sighed. "It was an accident. I know."

"You keep apologizing." Barnum chuckled, but his words held a hint of despair underneath. "You don't ever have to apologize for what you do and don't want."

"But—"

"It's okay, Phil. Now, c-mon—"

Barnum was interrupted when Phillip squeezed him, hugging so tightly that Barnum gasped. He laid his head against Barnum's chest and breathed in deeply. Barnum rubbed his back as he exhaled.

When the first "I love you" escaped Phillip's parted lips, the room stilled.

***

Realization over when he'd just said dawned on Phillip a few seconds after the words themselves escaped his lips. He blushed and fumbled, making up some excuse as he stuttered with embarrassment.

Barnum kissed him to shut him up.

"You deserve the world, darling," Barnum mumbled as the kiss broke. He ran his hand through Phillip's hair and lightly massaged his scalp. "I will do everything in my power to give it to you."

A content little sigh escaped Phillip's lips. He closed his eyes, snuggled close, and held Barnum tight. They still sat on the living room floor, but he pressed himself as physically close to Barnum as he could get and Barnum himself leaned back against an armchair to support himself upright.

Phillip was content and his embarrassment had faded. He was relaxed, well and truly, and his eyes stayed closed as he leaned into Barnum's massaging fingers. Most every fiber of Phillip's being was focused on the hand in his hair, the thumb running lightly over the two little bumps that marked his shunt.

But a teeny tiny part of Phillip wasn't focused on Barnum's touch. It wasn't focused on Barnum's lips as he pressed them, gently, to Phillip's forehead. No, that teeny part of Phillip was busy attempting to send alarm bells ringing throughout the rest of his head. That teeny part was trying to get the rest of Phillip's brain to focus on what it, and only it, had picked up on.

Phillip told Barnum he loved him. And, though it slipped, he had meant it. Whole and truly.

Barnum told Phillip he 'deserved the world.' And he meant it, whole and truly. He would do everything in his power to make sure Phillip did not feel alone or afraid again.

But he had not said 'I love you' back.

***

Barnum wasn't sure whether he could tell Phillip.

Most of the money Charity had stolen from him, months ago now, had finally been recovered. He was contacted immediately and, after verification that the money was his, it'd been returned to him in silence - no big newspaper articles or celebrations about it. He was a wealthy man once more, but... truth be told... he wasn't sure he wanted to reinstate his business.

Being with Phillip made him realize how fucking valuable life was, and P.T. Barnum was no man suited for any ordinary job. Of course, being as wealthy as he was, he was certain that no average person would call his job "ordinary," but it was... boring. He'd come to realize that he hated his suit-and-tie, 9-to-5 life. Despite the hell Charity put him through, and despite the crummy little apartment he was now living in, it was almost as if she'd sent him on a little vacation - and now that he'd gotten a taste of freedom, he never wanted to go back.

And, had it not been for Charity pulling the rug from beneath his feet, Barnum could not be certain that he would have ever met Phillip.

Phillip.

God, words could not describe how much he'd fallen for that man. Being with Phillip made him come alive and appreciate life for what it truly was - precious. He desperately wanted the younger man to love himself, to accept himself for his flaws, and that passion, that desire, to help Phillip battle through the demons that had haunted him all his almost-thirty years of life had not dulled, not since the moment he'd met the man in the elevator.

When Phillip told Barnum he loved him, in such a casual state - sitting on the living room floor together, the playwright sleepy against his arm - Barnum's heart swelled and he'd nearly cried then and there. He wanted to hug Phillip, to shower him in kisses (as corny as it sounded), and twirl him around. He wanted to tell Phillip that he loved him too, God he loved him so much, and that he would be treasured, the way that he was, for the rest of Barnum's natural life.

But, for the first time since begging for money on the streets, Phineas Taylor Barnum found himself absolutely, positively tongue-tied.

He wanted to trust Phillip. He did. But he couldn't help it - what if Phillip learned of his reclaimed fortune and took off with it, just as Charity had?

There was no real reason to fear this - Phillip himself was quite wealthy already, and he'd told Barnum he loved him before he knew of Barnum's reinstated profits. But the fear twisted at his gut nonetheless... and he missed his opportunity.

So, instead of telling Phillip that he loved him too, so, so much, he stayed silent. Like the foolish man he was, he blurted out the only other thing that came to his mind.

"You deserve the world, darling. I will do everything in my power to give it to you."

Phillip did deserve the world. God, he deserved it so much after all he'd been through during his mere three decades of life. But, despite everything screaming at him to tell him, Barnum could not bring himself to add on those three little, but oh-so-powerful words to his vow.

If Phillip noticed, he said nothing of it.

It was not late, but the rain outside had started to lull the young playwright to sleep, and Barnum lifted him in his arms to carry him to the bedroom. He removed Phillip's socks and tucked the young man in, but he himself had to leave - he had a call to his bank to make.

***

The headache came like any other. Phillip woke up groaning - his head pounded and he ached all over, but he'd had aches worse than this with the common cold.

Turning, he realized the bed was empty. Benji replaced Barnum and laid, snoring, on the older man's pillow. Phillip reached out - his fingers swam blurry in front of him - and stroked the dog's soft fur, but Benji laid unbothered.

When he tried to sit up, a wave of dizziness hit him. He groaned and collapsed back on the bed and against the pillows. He was rubbing his forehead when Barnum strolled into the room, dressed, a lazy and teasing smile on his face.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Carlyle," he chuckled.

"Afternoon?" Phillip muttered, squinting. His head hurt too much to think and he winced.

Barnum nodded and gestured to the clock on the nightstand beside the bed.

Phillip turned his head, gasping in pain, and tried to read the clock. He could vaguely make out a 12 before his vision went fuzzy and he collapsed, groaning, against his pillow.

His head hurt even worse lying down.

Tears formed in Phillip's eyes. He shakily called Barnum's name.

The man was by his side in an instant, pushing his hair back. "Are you all right?" he quipped. His face blurred.

"Medicine," Phillip groaned, "and water. Please."

Barnum nodded. He tried to help Phillip sit up, but his world exploded in pain and he cried out as he fell back against the pillows again. Lying down, his head legitimately felt like it was about to explode.

Phillip sobbed with the pain.

He heard a faint whining noise and then felt a tiny Terrier tongue on his cheek. He reached blindly for Benji, but then a blurry, bigger figure was in front of him, handing him a glass with something in it that moved and splashed.

"Here," Barnum urged, voice laced with concern, "take this."

Phillip struggled to sit up so Barnum hand-fed him the pills and held him up as he drank water. His hands shook so terribly that the water splashed over the side, soaking his hands and pajamas.

He felt the bed shift with new weight, and then strong arms were around him, pulling him close.

"Are you all right?" Barnum murmured worriedly in his ear. His vision was still blurry, but he felt a feather-light kiss against his earlobe, felt the warmth of Barnum's lips, and relaxed a little.

"H-Help me stand up?"

"Are you su—"

"I need to... bathroom. I need the bathroom."

Barnum nodded - just watching the motion made Phillip's head explode with new pain - and helped Phillip up, a firm grip on the younger man's arm.

Gasping through the pain and the ever-blurry sight, Phillip took the tiniest of steps forward.

And collapsed to the floor.

***

He came to, screaming, when he felt the IV needle pierce his arm. He thrashed and thrashed, trying to yank away from the needle sticking out of his skin, but doctors held him down. Doctors, and—

And familiar hands, a familiar scent. Familiar eyes that blurred together in Phillip's panicked state.

"Phin," he gasped. He could feel the tears wettening his cheeks, but doctors held his arms down and he couldn't wipe his face. "P.T.!" he cried out, feeling a familiar eight-year-old fright. "Phineas!"

He gasped and struggled for breath. Barnum's hands were on his face, brushing the tears away. He felt the briefest ghosting of lips against his own.

"I'm here. I'm here."

Barnum was crying.

Why was he crying?

He shouldn't be crying.

Phillip tried to reach out. His vision blackened at the edges.

From somewhere far away, he heard someone ask, "can you rate the pain, Mr. Carlyle? On a scale of one to ten—"

"Ten!" he screamed out. "Eleven! Ele—"

Phillip Carlyle swirled around and around, and tumbled into blackness.

***

He faded in and out of consciousness a few times before the actual surgery, but he only clearly remembered one thing.

The CAT scan.

He used to call it a spaceship when he was younger. It was a big, round machine that was supposed to take pictures of his brain. They put something on him - he wasn't sure what it was, but it was supposed to prevent other parts of his body from being scanned. It was like a big, heavy bib.

He remembered coming in and out of consciousness. He remembered entering the spaceship, he remembered heavy pressure on his chest, and he remembered the doctors taking x-ray like photos of his brain. He remembered the clicks, the murmured talking between doctors in the room. He remembered voices telling him to stay absolutely, positively still.

He didn't know it then, but Barnum was also in the room. Biting his knuckles, watching his boy go into the CT

(spaceship)

machine. There were tears on his face. He was shaking, crying, coming completely undone, and all he wanted, more than anything, was to be held. To be held, like he was a child again, and rocked, and told everything was going to be okay.

But he couldn't be held, he couldn't be rocked, he couldn't be told everything was going to be okay because his boy was about to have life-threatening

(life-saving)

brain surgery.

Phillip Carlyle remembered nothing after that.

***

When he came to again, all was still. He groaned and lifted an aching arm to shield his eyes from the achingly bright light.

Everything was still.

Everything was silent.

His head didn't hurt anymore, he observed. But his stomach hurt like—

"Am I in hell?" he muttered.

"Afraid not, darling."

A warm blush erupted throughout the entirety of Phillip's body and he looked over at the source of the voice. Barnum sat in a chair beside the bed. He was smiling, but his eyes were red-rimmed and his face was pale. He reached out to Phillip and grazed his fingertips, but then pulled back like he was afraid to touch the man in the hospital bed.

"Phineas?"

He licked his lips in discomfort - they were chapped and dry, and his throat scratched with thirst. His tongue was dry, heavy, and tasteless in his mouth. He swallowed, but all that did was fuel the fire ravaging his throat.

He felt Barnum clasp his hand between both of his, and he watched with bleary eyes as the older man brought his hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. Barnum had been crying - Phillip could feel the wetness of his tears drip onto the back of his hand.

"Phillip," Barnum rasped, "oh, God. I thought I lost you."

Phillip smiled, but it was weak and the corners of his lips trembled.

"Just another shunt surgery is all."

"You collapsed, darling. You don't even - you probably don't even remember speaking with the doctors, do you? Or going into surgery?"

He remembered the IV needle, and the spaceship. That was all.

When he reported this to Barnum, he was stunned to hear the responding sob that erupted from his throat.

"God, Phillip, I've never been so... fucking terrified—"

He was interrupted by a doctor who knocked onto the door and came into the room. The doctor was pleased to see that Phillip appeared to be much more coherent, and he reported that the surgery went well - his old, failed shunt had been removed and replaced with a newer, stronger one.

"Hopefully we won't see you here again for another twenty years," the doctor teased. Phillip did not laugh.

He told Phillip that he would have to stay overnight for observation, to make sure the new shunt was working well, but that was not new news. Phillip had vague memories of staying overnight at the hospital after his surgeries as a child. They often served him pancakes in the morning.

Then, the doctor dropped a bombshell that shattered Phillip's world.

"Your parents are here to see you."

***

"My parents?!" Phillip rasped after the doctor left. He had mere minutes before they came barging into the room. "What are my parents doing here?!"

"Relax," Barnum mumbled. He knelt beside the bed and gently took Phillip's face in his hands. "If they get out of hand, we can ask them to leave."

"Does - does anyone know? The media, the reporters—"

Barnum took a deep breath.

"I saw reporters outside the hospital, yes," he admitted. Phillip's stomach clenched with fear. "Physical copies probably won't be published until tomorrow, but online - it wouldn't surprise me to find your face in an article, at this very moment."

"Oh, great," Phillip sighed. He leaned back and his eyes stung, but whether it was from exhaustion or tears, he didn't know.

"Please, just try to relax. It'll be over in no time." Barnum took hold of his hand.

"But—"

"I know it'll be hard," the older man mumbled. He leaned forward and softly pressed his lips to Phillip's, "but I will not let either of them touch you. I'm here, and," he paused, deep whiskey eyes looking into tired blue, "I - I love you, Phillip."

***

Phillip was a fool for hoping, for even daring to hope, that the encounter with his parents would go over well. Yet, despite everything he'd experienced by his father's hands, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope in his stomach as they awaited Mr. and Mrs. Carlyle's arrival.

That flicker quickly burnt out.

"Well, well," Mr. Carlyle's familiar sneer sent a jolt of fear down Phillip's spine, "I should've known you'd never amount to anything, boy."

"Like this is anything I could control," Phillip snapped. "Hydro—"

"Yes, yes, we know all about your condition. Have you forgotten who kept you alive your first eight years?"

Mrs. Carlyle rested a hand against her husband's arm. She murmured something that Phillip couldn't hear, and Mr. Carlyle relaxed his shoulders - but the sneer was still plastered on his face like he was looking at a pile of dog shit on his shoe.

"I see you've picked up more than one condition," he spat.

Phillip's eyes flickered over to Barnum, who stood, broad-shouldered and head held high, in the corner and took it. Phillip gulped. Barnum may be older than he was, but that didn't mean he deserved to hear Mr. Carlyle's paralyzing (no pun intended) words, either.

"Leave Phineas out of this, Father," Phillip commanded, quietly.

"Oh?" Mr. Carlyle laughed - a nasty, nasally sound. "It's got a name! How sweet."

"Honey," Mrs. Carlyle placed her hand on her husband's arm. She dropped her voice, but Phillip could still hear. "That's Phineas Barnum."

Mr. Carlyle stared at his wife, but realization dawned in his eyes after just a moment. With a sneer, he turned to Barnum.

"So," he began, eyebrow raised, "your wife is gone, you've lost everything, so you've taken to fucking my son?"

Phillip's face flamed bright red and a lump formed in his throat. His eyes flicked to Barnum as the older man clenched his jaw.

"Your son is not an animal, Mr. Carlyle," Barnum began. "I realize it's none of your business, but, if you must know, I have not, and will never, 'take to fucking your son.' Phillip deserves so much more than—"

"Phillip deserves what?" Mr. Carlyle scoffed. "Phillip is a cripple, Mr. Barnum. He can hardly think for himself, let alone—"

"How dare you speak about your only son that way," Barnum spat. "He is your flesh and blood. He is the carrier of your family name. He is—"

"He's a fucking freak, is what he is."

Phillip had all but curled himself up in the hospital bed when Jonathan Carlyle came over and slapped his son straight in the face. Crying out, Phillip shrank against the bed with stinging eyes as he struggled to hold back tears and soothe his cheek all at the same time.

The smirk was on Mr. Carlyle's lips only a second before Barnum had him up and pressed against the wall. Jonathan Carlyle's advancing age betrayed him as he clawed at Barnum's hand in an attempt to get the pressure off his throat. Barnum did not squeeze hard enough to choke him, but the elder Carlyle would need to wear a scarf or high-collar shirt if he wished to hide the marks that would inevitably form on his skin.

"You will never touch him again," Barnum hissed through his teeth, all but spitting in Mr. Carlyle's face, "do you understand me?"

He let go of Jonathan Carlyle then and the man fought for breath, tears forming at the corners of his eyes as he sucked in unrestricted air.

"I'll have you arrested!" he threatened, pointing a shaking finger at Barnum as he straightened up. "I, I'll—"

"I don't think so," Barnum tutted, shaking his head. "If you do choose to press charges, Mr. Carlyle, my lawyers will see to it that you serve the time for child abuse and neglect that you should have served twenty years ago."

Phillip's eyes flicked to the door. His father had closed it upon entering, and he hadn't noticed until just then. It was the only reason nurses weren't barging into the room and Barnum and his father weren't being led away in handcuffs.

"Lawyers?" Mr. Carlyle barked out a laugh that made Phillip flinch. It reminded him of his younger days, when his father would stand over him with a cane, laughing and cackling into his ear as he cowered on the floor. "What lawyers? Your bitch of a wife saw to it that you don't have a shred of a dime left, Mr. Barnum."

In response, Barnum just laughed.

"I may have married a talking dog," he said, ever-familiar smirk curling at his lips, "but she wasn't nearly as smart as her canine counterparts. Did you really think that money would stay hidden away forever, Mr. Carlyle?"

Phillip's eyes widened.

Barnum... had his money back? Since when? Why hadn't he moved out?

Why had he... stayed?

Mr. Carlyle's expression mirrored his son's, though neither of the older men took notice to Phillip's shock. Mrs. Carlyle had backed herself into a corner and watched the escalating scuffle in silence, hands pressed up to her mouth. She had tears in her eyes.

"You don't—"

"I do," Barnum grinned.

Jonathan Carlyle's face reddened. "I will not see to—"

"The only thing I would like to see to you doing, Mr. Carlyle, is turning around and walking right out of this hospital room."

"Phillip—"

"—is a grown man who can make his own decisions, no matter how you view his mind or his body."

Mr. Carlyle stood there, in silent rage, for what felt like a lifetime. Then he turned, grabbed his wife by her arm, and stormed out the door.

The door slammed shut behind them.

Phillip laid in silence, trying so hard to hold back his tears that his skin trembled with the effort. When Barnum knelt, delivering a feather-light kiss to his mouth, he couldn't hold back his sob. Despite the awkward angle, Barnum sat there and held him until he cried every last tear he had in his system into the older man's shirt.

"I'm s-s-sorry," Phillip choked as he pulled back.

"Please don't. You've got nothing to apologize for."

"Ph-Phineas," Phillip whispered, his lips trembling, "the m-money—"

"We can discuss that later, but I suspect a doctor will be barging in here at any moment given the racket we just made. Straighten up now, darling. Wipe those tears and look pretty."

Barnum finished the statement with a smirk, and Phillip smacked his arm. His was exhausted, physically and emotionally, but Barnum's familiar teasing ways had him blushing like a lovestruck teenage girl.

"Phineas, your shirt—"

"Don't you worry about that. Sit up, now."

Phillip nodded. He sat up in bed just as the door opened and his doctor poked his head into the room.

***

The first thing to greet them upon their arrival home the next day was Benji. They could almost hear the Yorkie's yaps from a mile away.

Phillip dropped to his knees just inside the doorway and Barnum chuckled as he nudged the door shut. Benji scrambled up Phillip's chest, nails finding a hold in his shirt, and his laughter lit up the whole apartment as he leaned back against the wall, being assaulted by a small Terrier tongue.

"He missed you," Barnum commented, smiling, as he dropped his coat across the back of a chair. Phillip stood up with the dog in his arms.

"Has he eaten?" Phillip fretted. "He probably needs to go out. We were gone all night, I—"

"Relax, darling. I stayed here last night."

"You did?"

Barnum nodded.

Phillip looked around the apartment, taking note, for the first time, of how everything was neat, but, upon closer inspection, had the slightest look of disarray about it. A chair at the kitchen table was slightly crooked, not pushed in all the way. There was a book on the coffee table that hadn't been there yesterday. Benji's food bowl had crumbs at the bottom, and he had a fresh bowl of water about half full.

Phillip looked down at the floor. When footsteps and a familiar hand tilted his face up, he kissed Barnum, the dog held in between them.

"Thank you," he mumbled as they pulled away.

"Common courtesy, 'Lip. Something that your father, I bet, couldn't even define if we asked him."

The tiniest of smiles tugged at Phillip's lips and he sighed as he lowered himself onto the couch. Benji squirmed to get out of his arms and small nails clacked against the floorboards as he scurried off to find a toy.

"I should probably let him out," Phillip decided out loud, having not been seated on the couch for a full two minutes before he attempted getting up again. He was stopped by Barnum's hand on his chest, pushing him back.

"In a minute. We need to talk." Barnum sat on the couch, holding Phillip's hands in his. When Phillip avoided his gaze, he said, "it's nothing to be afraid of, 'Lip. We just need to talk about what you've found out. Please, look at me."

"The money," Phillip stated as their eyes met.

Barnum nodded.

Phillip's eyes were glued to his hands again. His hands which were in his lap, nervously twisting and untwisting.

"I understand," Phillip sighed, causing Barnum to tilt his head as he listened. "You've got your money back. You'll want to move out and move on. I... get it. I'll miss you." A lump formed in his throat. "But I get it."

"Phil—"

"You'll probably want to go back to your home, right? That big, sprawling mansion - it was all over the news when you moved out."

"Phillip, the bank took that home away from me. It's not mine anymore."

"Oh. Well, I guess that's okay too, right? You can look for a bigger, better home. You don't have to live in these stuffy little apartments anymore."

The remark confused Barnum. If Phillip thought the apartments were so 'stuffy,' why move in in the first place? Phillip wasn't as wealthy as his father, but he was not a poor man by any means.

"You live here," Barnum pointed out. "You live here, but I know you've got more than three dollars in your bank account, Phil."

Phillip scoffed, but something caught in his throat. Something... like a cry forced back. Tears unshed.

Barnum did not miss it.

"What's wrong?" he asked, bewildered. Drawing Phillip into his side, he leaned in and kissed the younger man's forehead. "Tell me."

From the floor, Benji watched them with interest. Alert and ready to comfort his owner if it came down to that.

"It's easier here," Phillip admitted, voice low. "Here I'm not... surrounded by wealth. It's easier to hide here, to pretend that I don't have all the money that I've... received over the years."

"Received? Phillip, your plays sell out theatres! You didn't receive that money, you earned it."

"But I don't deserve it."

A beat of silence. Barnum stared at Phillip, stared at his sad, withdrawn face and his slumped shoulders.

"What do you mean... you don't... deserve it?" Barnum asked slowly.

"Look at me, Phineas! You heard my father. I'm a cripple. A good-for-nothing fucking cripple. I became successful on accident. The media don't care about my craft, they care that somebody lesser than them found success. My disabilities make bigger headlines than my shows! The only reason people go is so they can say, 'Phillip Carlyle? Oh, yes, that poor man. He probably needs the money for all of his medical expenses. I thought I'd buy a ticket or two, help the cripple pay a few bills.'"

His voice shook so badly by the end that Barnum could barely understand him. Benji was barking his little head off, whining, nudging against his distressed owner's leg. Phillip fell back against the couch, hands over his ears.

"I don't deserve it," he muttered over and over again, under his breath, "don't deserve it, don't deserve it, don't deserve it."

"Hey." Barnum took hold of Phillip's hands and gently removed them from his ears. "None of that. You deserve success, Phil. You earned it. You worked for it."

Phillip looked at Barnum in silence. He wasn't crying, but pain etched itself deep into his features. Barnum ached to hug him, but he needed to stay focused on what he was getting ready to tell him.

"You can build a name for yourself without your father's money. We can... do that together, if you'd let me help you."

"Wh-What?" Phillip gulped. "What are you saying?"

A single tear rolled down Phillip's cheek and Barnum wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. He took a deep breath. "Awhile ago, I was contacted saying that the money Charity had stolen from me had been found. I waited to say anything because... well, I was afraid." He chuckled drily. "I was afraid of losing you, and... truth be told I was afraid to go through a replay of the Charity incident."

"I would never—"

"I know you wouldn't, and I've known that all this time, but still I... wanted to hold back. But then you... then you had to go to the hospital and I—" his voice broke and he cringed. "I was so afraid of losing you, Phillip. I was so afraid and I hadn't gotten a chance to tell you that I love you—"

Even though it was his second time hearing the words come from Barnum's lips, Phillip's heart leapt up in his throat.

"—and I was so afraid of you... dying... without knowing the truth." Barnum's voice trembled and he sucked in a breath. "I wouldn't be able to handle going away, knowing that something might happen to you here alone. Phillip, I—"

He paused.

Phillip's fingers threaded with his. He laid his head on Barnum's shoulder, suddenly tired but silently coaxing Barnum to continue.

"I would... like you to move in with me."

Almost as soon as he settled down, Phillip found himself lifting his head again. "What?"

"I want you," Barnum traced Phillip's lips, running his finger along the little crevice between Phillip's chin and bottom lip, "to... move in with me. If you'll allow it."

Phillip stared at Barnum, lips parted in shock. At first, he didn't say anything. He couldn't find the words.

"Or not." Barnum dropped his hand. "That's all right, too. I shouldn't have assumed—"

"Of course I'll move in with you."

Barnum's eyes lit up. Phillip knocked him against the arm of the couch as he threw himself at the older man in a hug, body sprawled on top of Barnum's. He littered the man's face in quick, feather-light kisses. Barnum squeezed the younger man's body to him as he laughed, practically humming underneath all of the sudden attention.

"I love you," Phillip mumbled as he finally settled down, still stretched out on top of Barnum. He sighed and laid his head on the older man's chest. "God, Phin, if you hadn't come to my apartment that day—"

"You'd still find a way to wrap me around your little finger," Barnum chuckled, lifting Phillip up to kiss him again.

From the ground, Benji barked. They parted and turned their heads to stare at the dog, who whined and wagged his tail under the sudden attention.

"Somebody's jealous," Barnum mumbled. "Don't worry, fur ball, you'll be coming with us too."

Phillip just laughed and kissed him again, threading his fingers into P.T.'s soft hair.

A new life... with Phineas Taylor Barnum. The man who'd come to his rescue seemingly seconds from teetering off the edge.

***

When Barnum read off the numbers, Phillip had tears in his eyes.

"We did it," the younger man breathed. "Oh, God, we did it. We're doing it."

He couldn't help the tears that flowed from his eyes, soaking Barnum's shirt. But, for the first time in a long time, they were tears of joy. Barnum turned away from the computer and held Phillip close, murmuring soothing words into his ear.

After moving from his apartment, into a home with Barnum, the two had launched a campaign. Called Runaways Running The Night, their campaign took disabled children from abusive homes and matched them up with parents - some disabled themselves, some not - looking to foster or adopt. With both Barnum's and Phillip's names glued to the movement, their campaign gained traction quickly - the numbers of disabled children rescued skyrocketed, with the numbers of successful fosterings and adoptions starting to creep up behind it.

Phillip still feared death and growing older - he figured he always would - but his fear was manageable now, and Barnum found him a therapist willing to work with his death anxieties.

Benji helped at home too, of course.

And there was one more thing that P.T. Barnum and Phillip Carlyle added to their growing legacy.

The office door opened and the two men broke apart as they turned to greet Keisha. Anne, the girl's nanny, wheeled the seven-year-old into the room, smiling through the girl's shriek.

"Mr. Phillip! Mr. Phineas!"

Chuckling, Barnum knelt down. Keisha threw her umber arms around him in a hug, her eyes sparkling bright from behind her glasses. Phillip knelt down, too, and ruffled the girl's hair before teasingly taking hold of her stuffed unicorn.

"Pretty soon, you'll be able to call us both Daddy," Phillip promised. The girl beamed and he chuckled as he leant forward to kiss her cheek.

Anne smiled as Phillip stood up, her eyes flickering to his hands. "I see you've made it official, huh?" she teased, eyeing the silver band.

Phillip blushed. Chuckling, Barnum pulled him into his side as he kissed his cheek.

"Lunch today," Barnum confirmed.

"He told me he wanted to discuss Runaways numbers," Phillip confessed. "I should've known—"

"I took him to the rooftop of our old apartment building," Barnum grinned.

Anne beamed at the two, about to congratulate them both when Keisha tugged at her hand. She knelt down and Keisha whispered something into her ear.

"She wants to know if she can be the flower girl," Anne repeated, smiling, "and Mr. Scruffles," the unicorn, "wants to be the best man."

"Well, of course." Barnum grinned, ruffling the girl's hair. "What kind of flowers would you like, Miss Keisha?"

"White roses!" the girl declared.

"Ah, excellent choice. The symbol of purity." His eyes flicked to Phillip's. Phillip ducked his head and blushed.

"What's purity, Mr. Phineas?"

"Ah, I'll explain it to you later. For now - let's go home."

As Barnum interlocked his hand with Phillip's, he struggled to hold back tears. The four of them - Phillip, Phineas, Anne, and Keisha - left the office together. As they left, Keisha launched into a song she'd learned that day at school.

They were going home.

---

A few things:

1. I KNOW that this fic is very hope-heavy with things like Barnum totally, 100% accepting Phillip's asexuality and his disabilities. I purposely wrote it to be overly idealistic. It was kind of like... therapy, for myself?

2. In my case, cerebral palsy effects my right side. Not my left. Lemme tell ya, the paralyzed toes frustration is very real and very aggravating. I have had somewhere around a dozen surgeries, but the numbers are slightly off. I have had one leg surgery and two eye surgeries (I did not include partial blindness in this fic). The rest were shunt-related. I have not had a shunt surgery since I was 7, and I have not had a surgery in general since I was 8 (the last one was for my leg). However, a relapse could happen - the hospital descriptions are based solely on what I remember as a 7 year old.

3. Mr. Carlyle is largely based on the fandom headcanon that he's an abusive dirtbag. I was not, and am not, physically abused. I also have never been abused for being asexual, but that's because I'm not out publically. Forcing asexual people into doing sexual acts is a VERY real fear for a lot of aces and Phillip's concerns are legitimate.

4. A lot of the things Phillip experienced in high school really happened, or was based on, things that happened to me. I was called "limpy limpy legs" by some asshole in the hall. I was not put into a special-needs classroom, but I was treated that way in a real club (that assisted severally mentally-disabled people) that I did try to join. I did sob my eyes out in a counselor's office at one point, but that was because of an emotionally-abusive dirtbag ex-stepdad, who really did call me a "special needs bitch." However, unlike Mr. Carlyle (as stated in #4), he was not physically abusive. And he WAS kicked out. My breakdown in the office finally convinced my mom to get rid of his psychotic ass.

5. The anxiety and the death/aging existentialism are very real. I do not have a support dog, but we might be training my dog (no, not a Yorkie, and no, not named Benji) to become one. Also, I KNOW Phillip has a lot of breakdowns, and cries a... lot. It's very real.

6. I generally am against people who don't know what they're doing writing fics with majorly disabled people because they often come off as having lots of ableism (I, for example, would not dare to write a fic about being autistic), but I am all for disability education. We need disability education! Why? Because my biggest representation as a person with right-sided cerebral palsy is Nemo. That being said, I hope you learned something :)

#barlyle #the greatest showman #greatest showman #tgs #pt barnum #phillip carlyle #phineas barnum #phineas taylor barnum #bisexual circus dads #circus #asexual #asexuality #angst #disabilities #disability #writing prompts #one-shot #Hugh jackman #zac efron

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idiopathicsmile · 6 years

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Why You May Already Be A Unitarian Universalist! Or, a short guide to the goofy hippie aunt of the theological world (but the kind of aunt who has been to protests and Seen Some Shit)

Do any of these sound like you:

“I’d like a safe setting to explore my spiritual beliefs, but I’ve got baggage about organized religion!”

“I wish there was a church for atheists!”

“I wish there was a church for people who aren’t sure if they believe in god or not!”

“Over the years I’ve slowly assembled a highly personal grab-bag of spiritual beliefs and practices, but I miss service projects and singing hymns and drinking coffee on Sundays!”

“I need a religious community that supports rights for people of all genders, races, religious beliefs, sexual or affectional orientations, ability statuses, and national origins!”

“I want to raise my kids in a church that offers an extremely comprehensive, LGBTQA-friendly, shame-free sex ed program to all teenagers!”

Or conversely,

“I’ve already found a different personal belief system that feels right for me, but I am intellectually curious about where you’re going with this!” (Perfectly valid!)

If any of the above is true, or if you just feel like killing some time on the internet (also valid), read on!

“So, what do you guys believe?”

Modern Unitarian Universalism is a religion without a creed. That means you can be UU while believing in as many or as few deities as you want (including none or “I don’t know” or even “the very question doesn’t feel that important to me”). There is no consensus within the church on an afterlife (if any), or a holy book (if any), or even which holidays to celebrate, other than presumably, like, the birthdays of your friends and loved ones.

Plenty of UUs identify as agnostic or atheist, but we also have members whose beliefs are informed by Judaism, Christianity, Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam, earth-centered/Pagan traditions, and/or Humanism, among others.

Asking an individual UU about their beliefs is sort of like asking someone about their taste in music. It’s meaningful to them, it’s shaped by their own history and experiences, and no two people will have exactly the same answer.

“Wait, you guys don’t agree on anything? What even brings you together?”

A DEEP AND EVERLASTING LOVE OF COMMITTEES.

No, sorry, that was a hilarious joke playing off an old Unitarian Universalist stereotype, which is that we are super into discussing things and then voting on them as a group.

Hilarious.

It’s hard to speak for all Unitarian Universalists, and some of them might quibble with the exact wording I’m about to use, but I feel like part of what makes us a bonafide religion is a deep shared conviction that trying your hardest to be kind, fair, and moral is itself sacred.

“If you can’t agree on a religious text, how in the world are you guys on the same page about what it means to be moral?”

I mean, sometimes we’re not? We like a good debate.

But although we don’t have a creed, we do have a common set of principles we try to use as a guide. Here they are, straight from the Unitarian Universalist Association website:

The inherent worth and dignity of every person;

Justice, equity and compassion in human relations;

Acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth in our congregations;

A free and responsible search for truth and meaning;

The right of conscience and the use of the democratic process within our congregations and in society at large;

The goal of world community with peace, liberty, and justice for all;

Respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part.

“Uh, that’s compatible with every world religion and also, like, Captain Planet.”

Listen, nobody in the Unitarian Universalist church is gonna stop you from using a nineties environmentalism cartoon as a holy text. Embrace your truths. As a group of young sages once said, “Saving our planet is the thing to do.”

“I already believe all of those principles. Am I a Unitarian Universalist?”

I mean, if you want to be!

…although the definition of a UU is broad enough these days that we’ve got a quirky (and in retrospect maybe kind of problematic?) habit of retroactively claiming dead historical figures* who demonstrated a belief in the seven principles during their lives. Like, “That person PROBABLY WOULD’VE BEEN Unitarian Universalist, given the chance! One of us! One of us!”

That said, if you’re reading this, you’re probably alive, so at least for the time being it is your call!

*I am now bound by ancient UU law to list to you some dead historical figures who actually self-identified as Unitarian Universalists (or Unitarians or Universalists, since the two didn’t meld together until a series of meetings in the 1960’s):

Olympia Brown (the first fully ordained female minister in the U.S., also an abolitionist and feminist)

President John Quincy Adams

Joseph Priestley (18th century theologian credited with discovering oxygen)

Ralph Waldo Emerson and a number of the early American Transcendentalists

Louisa May Alcott

Elizabeth Gaskell (author of North and South, among others)

Rod Serling (Twilight Zone creator)

Beatrix Potter

Pete flippin’ Seeger, hell yeahhhhhh

“Who runs this show?”

Rife as it would be for comic possibility, there is no Unitarian Pope. There are no cardinals. Authority is for the most part pretty decentralized. Individual congregations govern themselves, through committees and elections. A minister has to be approved by their congregation before it’s official.

Those Seven Principles above came, like I said, from the Unitarian Universalist Association, which is made up of delegates from churches all over the country, and every year they get together and vote on major stuff. But yeah, congregation to congregation, things can vary pretty widely in terms of how they do stuff, or even whether to use the word “church.” (Some instead call themselves a “society,” or a “fellowship.”)

“What the heck does a UU hymn even sound like?”

Oh man, this reminds me of that classic Unitarian Universalist joke, “Why are Unitarians so bad at hymns?”

Answer: “Because they’re too busy reading ahead to make sure they agree with all the lyrics!”

Priceless.

But in reality, some of our songs are, like, transcendentalist poems that have been awkwardly squeezed onto the melody of some older hymn or classical piece. Sometimes you sing John Lennon’s “Imagine,” seemingly without a trace of irony. Sometimes you’ve got old spirituals about justice (like I said, things can tip towards well-intentioned appropriation) or Christian hymns that have been revised to be nondenominational and gender-inclusive. Sometimes you break out the classics, like “This Little Light of Mine.”

Here’s one of my all-time faves, which is based on a translation of a poem by 13th century Persian philosopher and mystic Rumi. You’ve got to wait until the rounds kick in. So good.

“What’s the official stance on rights for the LGBTQ+ community?”

It’s formally recognized by the UUA that our seven principles are totally incompatible with homophobia, biphobia, transphobia, or any other type of bigotry.

Because the power is so decentralized, I can’t say that every congregation has always been enlightened, but as religions go, I think it’s pretty widely accepted that the UU church has long been on the forefront of LGBTQ+ rights. There have been UU ministers performing same-sex marriage ceremonies since at least the seventies, and there’s a long history of activism within the church.

The UUA website has a section detailing our ongoing efforts to be inclusive of all genders and orientations. If you’re a member of the LGBTQ+ community and nervous about visiting a UU church for the first time, you might also want to aim for one of the churches that’s specifically opted into our Welcoming Congregation Program, which requires the congregation to go through special training and to offer gender-neutral bathrooms, among other things. (Most UU churches at this point have opted in. If you’re trying to find the closest location that’s also a Welcoming Congregation, there’s a checkbox you can click on this handy look-up tool.)

“So for decades when American politicians were arguing that same-sex couples couldn’t marry because it ‘went against religion’, it literally went against this particular religion to discriminate against those same couples?”

Yes. Yes, it was. The Bush years were a weird time.

“What’s the official stance on racial justice?”

We’re in favor of it. (Again: if you take those seven principles seriously, there’s no pussyfooting around opposing racism.)

I’m not gonna lie: at least in the suburban midwest UU churches I’ve attended, we are by and large, uh, pretty white. So I can’t really speak to whether or not a person of color would feel comfortable there. I’d imagine it would widely vary by individual and by congregation.

Our track record with Civil Rights is probably on par with any ultra-liberal, service-based American religion. We had a lot of early white abolitionists (given how low the bar was back then, I’m sure many would be considered racist by today’s standards), we had members active in the Civil Rights movement (if you saw Selma, that minister who gets killed by an angry mob was one of ours), and I think there was even a while pre-McCarthyism where we were closely allied with socialism and our members included some people of color who were key activists in confronting racism and supporting unions.

And then the Red Scare happened and our religion barely survived and we leaned away from socialism, and since then we’ve always kinda been predominantly an upper to middle class white liberal thing, with all the blinders that implies.

But a lot of UU churches have expressed solidarity with Black Lives Matter and with the protests at Standing Rock, and there is a growing movement within the church to confront and examine any latent white supremacy in ourselves and in our congregations.

One of the things that endeared me to my current church was when the minister announced that we were all invited to a racial justice protest, which had been organized by a black Christian church in the Chicagoland area. And the minister said, essentially,

“Listen, they are going to use religious wording that may not align with your personal beliefs. And what I need you to do is imagine you’ve got a Universal Translator like in Star Trek. And if they say “the glory of God” and it makes you uncomfortable, think “the glory of human kindness.” If they say “the spirit of the Lord”, you can think “the spirit of Life.” Because these Christians are out there doing the work that fits with our deepest values, and in the end, we have more in common than not. Sometimes we need to get over ourselves, and follow where they lead.”

At our worst, I’d characterize us as well-meaning but clueless (i.e. using the stories or imagery of world religions as a metaphor, in a way that flirts with appropriation). At our best, we’ve got some activists of color on the front lines, doing cool shit.

“This all sounds...so incredibly Politically Correct…”

Yeah, we strive to be accepting of everyone but I should warn you upfront that if P.C. culture upsets you, Unitarian Universalism is probably not gonna be a good fit.

“Did you say something about comprehensive sex ed for teens? In church?”

I certainly did! Through the OWL (Our Whole Lives) program, specially trained adults teach the youths a multi-year curriculum about bodily autonomy, consent, respect, healthy communication, gender identity, sexual orientation, safe sex (including passing around condoms and dental dams), destigmatizing sexuality, and relationships, among other things. Also, you can anonymously submit questions at any point, and your teachers will do some research and provide an answer next week.

When I was young, this was seventh and eighth grade Sunday school. I think since then, they developed the program to include age-appropriate components for younger kids, and to focus more on high schoolers.

“Seriously?”

When my older brother went through an earlier iteration of the program, the curriculum included a slideshow with photos of actual naked people, who were just random UU volunteers from the seventies. By the time it was my turn, these had been replaced by tasteful charcoal drawings.

“So on a scale from one to ten, how warped is your brother?”

He’s doing great! Actually, he’s a member of his local UU church and a volunteer OWL teacher. Though if I had to guess, he’s probably pretty relieved he doesn’t have to contend with those slides.

“Where can I find out more about Unitarian Universalism?”

Here’s the UUA website. Here’s that nearest-church-finding tool I mentioned before. If you don’t know if you’re ready to jump from 0 to physically stepping into a sanctuary, especially if you’ve got a bit of that ol’ social anxiety, here’s the ask that reminded me to post this whole mess in the first place, about how to maybe ease yourself into things a little first.

“Hang on…if you break these words down into their roots, ‘Unitarian’ implies existence of a single god, as opposed to the widely accepted Christian trinity, while ‘Universalism’ surely refers to the notion of universal salvation, meaning that both terms seem to point to a specific concrete (if perhaps somewhat heretical) doctrine based around Christian concepts like God, Jesus, and Heaven—meaning, in short, that the very name of your religion seems to belie the nigh-endless spiritual possibility you’ve been describing in this blog post…what gives?”

Well, you’re not wrong. The name at this point is largely vestigial. But to understand how we ended up where we are today, and how we arrived there with this awkward polysyllabic soup of a name, I’m gonna need to take you through a couple of centuries of heated theological debate.

“Do you NEED to?”

I mean, ‘need’ is relative, but that’s definitely my plan!

Stay tuned for part II, “A (Very Very Very) Informal History of Unitarians, Universalists, and their Unholy (or Possibly Very Holy) Melding”

#not tryin to push my faith but i do think plenty of folks are already secret UUs #and just need a word for it #and in times like these it can be really good to stand in a room of people with your values #who are sad and angry as you are and for the same reasons #and searching out hope and community despite it all

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linkspooky · 4 years

Note

Can you please explain Shigaraki's feelings in the last chapter? What did talking to Hana mean to him? Did he hate his mother? And where Nana was from, he literally knew her from the photo.

alright symbolism time.

Shigaraki walks down a pathway that is made up of decayed parts of a house in front of, behind, and breaking into pieces around him. He looms far above a cityscape in the background. Also significant is the number of severed hands that are breaking into dust as they reach out towards Shigaraki Tomura.

There’s several important images associated with this, so let’s just break them down one by one.

The Hands

Eri who suffered incredibly similiar abuse to Shimura Tenko reflected this when Midoriya reached out a kind and helping hand out to her. That every hand that had ever reached out to her before that point was only to use her, or harm her but Midoriya’s hand was different. Midoriya’s hand was kind, and that was the first time a person reached out to her in such a way. She didn’t know anything else before that point.

Hands, are symbols of heroes saving people. However, in this society not everybody gets saved. While hands are a universal symbol of reaching out to lend a helping hand to someone else, they don’t mean that for Shigaraki.

Shigaraki lived through a situation where if just one person had extended a helping hand things would be different, but nobody did and because of that Shigaraki can’t believe hands are meant to save people. He sees hands in the cityscape but the hands are slowly decaying away, because he doesn’t believe a single one of those hands is going to help them.

Consider the situation as well. The heroes are not here to help him. He’s a thing that they need to kill. Shigaraki’s heart stopped last chapter, but even though heroes aren’t supposed to kill people the hero attending him makes no attempt to recessitate him.

The heroes who save people aren’t even attempting any kind of CPR. Like, if a prisoner gets sick, the prison guards aren’t supposed to go whatever he’s a crimminal and just let him die. If a suspect gets injured in a police chase, the police are SUPPOSED to call an ambulance. This raid has shown us two instances already, first with Hawks and now with Shigaraki that heroes are perfectly willing to kill people. There is nobody here to save Shigaraki, no single person in the world had extended a helping hand out to him, even the heroes just see him as a thing to be destroyed.

Which is why it should be no surprise at all that Shigaraki walks towards the one person who shows him a hand.

His Family

What’s important is in the feelings towards his family Shigaraki deliberately contradicts what he said earlier.

Shigaraki narrates that he hated everyone in that household. That he wanted them to crumble away. That he hated them, and therefore some of his quirk activating and decaying them must have been on purpose.

However, when actually confronted with them and speaking with them Shigaraki deliberately contradicts this. He says he’s built up hatred and resented his sister, but when talking with her in a relaxed way he begins to say he’s already forgiven her.

When his mother asks him about the itch, he not only reassures her that he’s fine but he also begins to return to the child he was again.

Even when knew his father was behind him he doesn’t look at him hatefully at first. He smiles at his father, and then looks surprised when he sees his father’s hand disintegrate.

Shigaraki’s narration says that all of his negative emotions piled up, leaving him no choice but to kill his family. However, that is a lie because when he’s shown his family’s loving side in his dream-like state he responds by becoming the gentleboy he once was. It’s only when confronted again with his father’s abusive hand that he becomes Shigaraki again TO PROTECT HIMSELF.

Shigaraki’s claims that he hates his family, that he wanted to kill them are contradicted by how gently he behaves when talking to his mother and Hana. He was even about to tell Hana that he already forgave her, or at least that he wasn’t angry anymore. That’s very different then I still hate them after all this time and feel no guilt over their death, which is what we’re TOLD Shigaraki feels but are SHOWN something else entirely.

His family calls him Tenko, and he becomes Tenko again. All for one calls him Tomura, and he snaps back into awareness and becomes Shigaraki Tomura once more. The question is if he doesn’t hate his family, doesn’t want to kill them why does he choose AFO over them?

The answer once again has to do with hands. His family love him, but they don’t care about him as a person. They don’t care about his wants and needs. Shigaraki is walking towards life, the only way to move forward, and his family demands that he stay dead. They deliberately try to chain him down because living is a villain is somehow WORSE than dying. Shigaraki is siding with AFO yes, but he’s also siding with the one person who said it was okay for him to live, to keep walking forward.

Nana, and the rest of his family act so entitled to Shigaraki. They are the ones who mistreated him, but they also insist that he can’t forget about them. Shigaraki does love his family, but it’s also important to note that at the same time he doesn’t know the love of a family that accepts him for who he is. The hands that are supposed to reach out and take care of him, have always strangled him, held him down, beaten him and tried to control him. That’s why even if that family is trying to talk Shigaraki down from destruction, he can’t listen to them even now.

Because they never asked what he wanted. They never thought about him as a person, his own individual needs as a person. They all acted selfishly. Nana acted selfishly when she decided to abandon her son and cut all ties with him, instead of giving up being a hero. Kotaro acted selfishly when he forced Shimura Tenko to give up his dream so Kotaro could keep having his ideal family that he had total control over and beat him when Tenko didn’t. The other members of his family cared more about the peace of the household then they did about Tenko’s own feelings. Every single person has been seflish and demanded something of him, and Tenko doesn’t really know the unconditional love and acceptance of a family because he’s so used to being denied by them.

Shigaraki loves his family, but he hates the way they treat him. He hates how they make him seem so small, and make his needs feel like they’re not important. That’s the nuance.

He doesn’t want to be denied. Of course he goes towards AFO. He thinks AFO is the one person who accepted him. He’s not going to turn his back on the one person who showed him a small form of acceptance, for the sake of people who never accepted him once. For Shigaraki hands aren’t there to help him, they’re there to hurt him and hold him back because he’s never been shown a genuine helping hand.

As for why Nana is there she exists in the vestiges as some kind of consciousness. It might actually be the same Nana that shows up in OFA, because the two quirks are connected. Which is why Deku is made aware of the fact that Shigaraki woke up, because Shigaraki is the one who was passed the real AFO quirk, and therefore Nana existing in some form in both quirks most likely alerted Deku.

There’s also a theory that Nana is the hand which grabs Shigaraki by the back of the head, which All for One had and gave to Shigaraki, because All for One was the one to kill Nana of course. That’s been pointed out by several people who are not me.

#mha meta #shigaraki tomura #league of villain meta #my hero academia meta #shigaraki meta #shimura tenko #Anonymous

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karlosharrison-blog · 5 years

Photo

Writer Samuel Johnson said, “by seeing London, I have seen as much of life as the world can show.” He might have been slightly biased coming from England (and writing in the 18th Century not too familiar with what goes on in Bangkok at night). Still, he’s not far wrong and London has always been a capital city filled with rich delights, sights, and sounds, where you can usually find what you want when you want it – no matter the hands on the clock.

London – All the lights shine.

The Big Smoke

Interestingly, at the time of writing and according to Forbes, London is second only to the provocative Thai capital as the most visited city in the world (having just lost the number one spot). Some 16 million tourists descend on “the big smoke” every year and those people are all looking for fun things to do. As you might expect, London has it in abundance.

And like any world-city worth its salt, it offers much when the sun goes down and the people come out to play. Here then, are 20 + things to see and do in London in the evening or at night.

If you’re looking for a solid London itinerary, here’s a 3 Day London Itinerary for you!

Finding Your Way Around

Before we dive right in, we’ve included a handy Google map of all the main attractions listed here. However, please note for the likes of pubs, clubs and restaurants etcetera, there are simply far too many to pin – so you’re just going to have to sniff those out on your own!

West End Musicals and Theater

Love them or hate them, there’s no doubt that musicals are enormously popular, particularly when in their territory of London’s West End or Broadway in New York. Remember the amount of people who visit London? Well, the Society of London Theater claim that 15 million bums were on auditorium seats in 2017. While we’re not saying that every tourist who visits the city goes to a show – there’s a tremendous amount of them that do!

Disney’s Beauty and the Beast – Just one of hundreds of West End shows.

Musicals like The Lion King, Wicked, Les Misérables and the Phantom of the Opera have been mesmerising audiences for decades, with the cream of film and theater acting talent regularly adding their own box-office clout. If you’re not a fan of musicals, don’t miss some of the world’s best cutting-edge theater, and you might see a global superstar doing what they do best. For many, the highlight of a visit to London is grabbing a ticket to one of these timeless spectacles. Don’t miss it.

Sightseeing the Lights

London, like Paris, is famous for its lights at night and there’s no better way to see them than an evening stroll through the city. It’s particularly stunning at Christmas time when scores of fluorescent bulbs illuminate the streets, but you don’t need to just visit then to experience the magic and charm of London when her lights are on.

Tower Bridge at night is truly a sight to behold.

World-famous sights such as the Houses of Parliament, Piccadilly Circus, Tower Bridge, and St Paul’s Cathedral are all spectacularly lit up at night, and you’ll find no shortage of great walking tours to guide you around them. Just don’t forget your camera’s tripod for taking those truly stunning twilight photographs.

Famous Pubs, Bars, and Clubs

London’s nightlife is up there with the finest in the world, with some of the best pubs, bars, and clubs you could possibly hope to find. From beautiful, ye olde worlde style taverns to avant-garde, swankiness, this city has an establishment to cater for every taste.

Stunning locations like the Dickens Inn await you when you’re thirsty.

If you’re that way inclined, you can even do specially designed London pub tours to make sure you don’t miss out on all the best ones – because your head will be spinning from more than a pint of ale with how many there are. And when you’ve had your fill of the vintage and traditional, hit up some of the best dance clubs on the planet and cut some rug until the early hours.

Comedy/Stand Up

Rattle off a list of British comedians and you’ve got a who’s who of the funniest people ever to grace a comedy stage – and they all started somewhere. The comedy circuit in London is extremely popular for international funny people and a great choice for an alternative night out. You’ve more than half a chance at catching tomorrow’s stars before they make it big.

Visiting a stand-up show – laughter is the best medicine.

And the beauty of it is, you’ll find many gigs for free! Check Time Out for listings or remember that google is your friend for finding who’s playing where. Just be ready to have your side’s split!

Gigs, Gigs, and More Gigs

The UK is home to the finest music scene in the world and this is reflected in the sheer amount of live performances you can see across the country week in week out. London has more than its fair share of music gigs available every night, where you can catch all the legends or the next big thing.

Gigs in London can be intimate affairs or huge sell-out stadium concerts

And while you’re at it, why not take in the famous history and sites by doing a rock and roll music tour? One of the best ways to truly immerse yourself in the experience and one for true music aficionados everywhere – especially if you’re fans of the Beatles and the Rolling Stones.

The Tower of London – Ceremony of the Keys

Visiting the crown jewels is always a highlight for tourists coming to London, many of whom flock here to enjoy the history of the British Royal family. The infamous Tower of London is forever synonymous with that history, with a brutal and bloody past that makes it an exciting and educational attraction – especially at night.

Many a ne’er do well met a timely end here.

The Ceremony of the Keys is the oldest military ceremony in the world, dating back to the middle ages. It starts at exactly 21.53 every night, where the guards perform a fascinating interaction to ensure the keys are kept safe until the morning. It’s totally free, but only 40-50 tourists are allowed access to it, which means that it is nearly always sold out at least 12 months in advance. Remember to book ahead!

The London Eye

When the London Eye opened to the public back in the year 2000 it was the world’s tallest Ferris wheel. Now ranking number three, it’s still the tallest in Europe, and one of London’s premier tourist attractions. As you might expect, you’ll get some of the best views of the capital from here.

The London Eye.

Both it and surrounding docks on the river Thames light up beautifully at night – and it’s well worth it to get your ticket in advance to beat the queues. The London Eye features regularly in popular culture and it’s a landmark you really shouldn’t miss when visiting the city. Providing you have a head for heights of course!

Late-Night London Museums

Have you ever seen the movie Night at the Museum? That could very well happen in London town! While the exhibits might not literally come to life, there’s plenty of opportunity for seeing some of the city’s best museums with late opening times offering something to keep all the family happy.

History at your fingertips

Museums like the Tate Modern, British Museum and Transport Museum regularly stay open well into the evening to give everyone the chance of enjoying the exhibitions, while some like the Natural History Museum (pictured above) even have sleepover events where you can stay the whole night! Perhaps the Tyrannosaurus Rex does come alive when nobody’s watching!

A River Thames Cruise

The River Thames is the iconic body of water that flows through the heart of London, inspiring a catalogue of stories, shaping history and defining a city. It’s fondly regarded in these parts, and what better way to see it than taking in a sunset cruise?

The dramatic River Thames.

Enjoy a glass (or two) of bubbly as you float down this world-famous river, passing all the major landmarks along the way. It’s surely one of the best ways to see the city at a leisurely pace from a unique vantage point, perfect for treating a loved one.

Jack the Ripper/Ghost Tour

England – and the UK in general – is one of the most haunted places on earth, and as such, the popularity of ghost walks and tours has skyrocketed. London is in the very thick of it, with the capital having more than its fair share of ghostly goings on. It’s not for the faint of heart, that’s for sure!

You go guys – I’m…washing my hair tonight.

But of all the tales coming out of the capital, perhaps the most infamous is that of Jack the Ripper – the Whitechapel murderer who was never found. He terrorised the city back in 1888, and he still does to this day, as you can “enjoy” a spine-tingling tour through the streets of his old stomping ground. Just don’t look behind you!

The Sky Garden

While not nearly being close to having the skyscrapers of other world cities such as New York or Hong Kong, London certainly has some distinctive ones. 20 Fenchurch Street is one such architectural construction, known affectionately by locals as “the walkie-talkie.”

The “walkie-talkie”

One of the most interesting things about it is that it has a beautiful, three-floor sky garden with stunning views over the city. It all lights up rather charmingly at night and being the 6th tallest building in the city, it will give you unrivalled views as London sprawls out below you. Sunrise yoga is also extremely popular too!

Visit Shakespeare’s Globe

“All the world’s a stage,” quoted Shakespeare in his play As You Like It, and you’d be mad to miss one of the most beautiful and iconic stages in the world while visiting London. Shakespeare’s Globe is a faithful reconstruction of the bard’s 16th-century theater, and seeing a performance here is a must for anyone who is a fan of the “upstart crow.”

Watch theater how they did in Shakespeare’s time

The theater has a repertoire of seasonal work and has been playing to delighted audiences since it opened in 1997. Catch a mesmerising, candle-lit performance of Hamlet, Macbeth, and co if you can, but there’s still plenty to see and do when no shows are scheduled.

Late-Night London Shopping

Just as tempting as visiting a city’s tourist attractions is visiting its shopping districts, particularly if you happen to be in one of the fashion hot-spots of the world. London is no stranger to style and high-end couture, and you can soak it all up by exploring any number of shopping streets in the capital.

Regent Street at Christmas

Oxford Street, Regent Street, Bond Street, and Mayfair have become by-words for shopping excellence, but there are literally hundreds of locations to choose from for a spree at night. And if your legs can’t carry you anymore and you’ve shopped until you’ve dropped, try a chauffeur driven experience to help you carry those bags instead. You can thank us later.

Night Bus Tour

It might not be the night bus of Harry Potter fame (although London does have a number of attractions to keep wizards happy), but taking an open-top bus around the sights is a wonderful way to spend an evening.

One of these – but at night.

For just under two hours you can enjoy views that you wouldn’t get from a walking tour, all from the comfort of your seat. A professional guide is included as well as the option of listening in several different languages. May we suggest you wrap up warm though if sitting upstairs in winter – and be aware that the summer version is mainly conducted in daylight.

Observatory Stargazing

The longer nights bring the perfect opportunity to turn our gaze to the heavens and enjoy some celestial activity, and what better way to enjoy it than visiting one of London’s famous observatories? Hampstead Observatory is open every Friday and Saturday night from the end of September to the beginning of April and it’s free to enter. You’ll learn a lot about the night sky from one of the centre’s knowledgeable and keen volunteers.

The Royal Observatory, Greenwich

Alternatively, you can visit the Royal Observatory in Greenwich, which is located in a UNESCO world heritage site. There you can stand astride the Greenwich Meridian Line and be in the western and eastern hemispheres at the same time! Make sure to visit in the evening for stargazing experiences, astronomer talks and a planetarium show.

Dining Out/Chinatown/Late Markets

London is a foodie’s paradise, with world-class, top quality wining and dining at thousands of restaurants and eateries scattered across the city. There’s something to suit all tastes, but even if you don’t find what you’re looking for, why not visit one of the late-night markets and cook something up for yourself? You could even try a food tour to sample a little bit of everything.

Dining out – one of life’s little pleasures

Alternatively, take in the sights, sounds, and smells of London’s Chinatown. Fine east Asian cooking and experiences await right in the heart of the city and it’s always a joy to visit the region at night – especially if there’s a party going down.

The Shard City View

The Shard is London’s newest addition to its skyline, completed in 2012 making it the tallest building in the UK. Its 95 stories are shaped into a giant shard of glass, and you can enjoy the spectacular, panoramic views from the 72nd floor during the day or at night.

The stunning Shard in Southwark

If you’re feeling particularly brave, you can even venture out onto the open-air viewing platform – which is the highest in Europe. There’s also multimedia exhibits and knowledgeable staff on hand to inform you about the London skyline. A great experience all round, but especially magical in the evening.

Late Debate at the Houses of Parliament

One of the most famous buildings in the world, the UK Houses of Parliament is a London icon, not least for the stunning Big-Ben tower and clock. But did you know you can sit in on debates in the public gallery? MPs often work late into the night, and it’s possible to catch them having an argument or two about current affairs.

The emblematic Houses of Parliament

Of course, you can never be sure what they’re going to be talking about, so it could be sleep-inducing monotony, but it’s still a great alternative attraction at such a revered and historic seat. Don’t forget you can also visit in the day with a guided tour should you prefer.

Bat Tour

Visiting Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park is a wonderful way to spend an afternoon (or any London park for that matter) particularly if the weather is fine. But there’s an increasingly popular activity that has been garnering positive press for members of the order Chiroptera. That’s a fancy name for bats, and you can see them if you attend one of the Royal Park’s Bat Walks.

Not scary at all!

Bats get a bad rep, but with the help of a guide, some of the negative myths will be dispensed with as you use “bat-detectors” to locate and study the creatures. Other nocturnal animals might well make themselves known too, but if you’re not happy with that and a big scaredy-pants – you can always just visit the London Zoo during the day – which is the oldest of its kind in the world.

Become a TV Show Audience Member

The UK is home to some extremely popular TV shows, including the likes of the Voice and the X-Factor, the Graham Norton Show and comedy options Live at the Apollo, Q.I, Mock the Week and Never Mind the Buzzcocks. Plus loads more besides.

Get behind the scenes at a TV show

Whatever your preference, if you book in advance you just might be able to score some tickets to your favourite TV show. And the best thing about it is – they’re usually free! Failing that, you can join millions of people each year who enjoy one of London’s many film tours, with Harry Potter easily being the biggest draw.

Late Night Madame Tussauds

The world-famous waxwork museum needs little introduction and no visit to the capital is complete without seeing the incredible life-like sculptures of people in the public eye. It’s been drawing in the crowds for over 200 years, constantly evolving and adding new exhibits and experiences. But while it usually closes in the afternoon, late-night Madame Tussauds is also a thing – an adults-only evening that’s guaranteed to be loads of fun.

Brad Pitt is waiting for you late at night…

Rub shoulders with the Queen of England, meet a galaxy of Star Wars characters or give Donald Trump a piece of your mind. You’ll need to book in advance and check dates, but a late-night with a bunch of life-like wax figures couldn’t possibly go wrong!

London Calling…

“A bad day in London is still better than a good day anywhere else,” said an unknown author, and we’re sure that with these sights and attractions, you’ll also have a good night there too. This barely scratches the surface of what you can do in the UK capital, but they’re arguably some of the best ways to spend an evening. You’ll soon discover that London is everything you dreamed it would be.

The post London attractions at Night – Top 20+ things to See and Do in London appeared first on Etramping Travel Blog.

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