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charcubed · 4 years

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Frank Hudson, Greta, Margaret, & Mary

(PSA: If you’ve been tagged in this post, it’s because I’m crediting you or linking to a meta you wrote! I particularly linked a lot of things at the end I think could be tangentially related. No pressure to read all of this!)

Please allow me to take you on a journey in which I present a theory:

Mary is Frank Hudson’s daughter from a relationship with another woman, and part of her motivation (as a villain, as Moriarty’s agent/possible successor) is to get revenge on Sherlock for having killed her father all those years ago and ruining the drug cartel empire.

I was calling this a crack theory, but uh, given that I’ve now written thousands of words connecting weird dots, I’m gonna say maybe this is potentially not as far-fetched as I initially thought.

Before Sherlock series 4 came out, we were given this delightful niche little “clue” in a Youtube video on the official channel:

It’s always struck me as odd that this was specifically shown in a video advertising / leading up to series 4... when it seemingly never connected to anything. Why this, of all things?

Let’s review what we know about Mr. Frank Hudson.

• He was sentenced to death in Florida; Sherlock ensured his execution. (ASiP)

• He was executed for double murder and the execution was via lethal injection. He was arrested for “blowing someone’s head off.” (TSoT)

• According to Mrs. Hudson, about their relationship: “It was just a whirlwind thing for us. I knew it wouldn’t work, but I just got sort of swept along. And then we moved to Florida. We had a fantastic time, but of course I didn’t know what he was up to” and “It was purely physical between me and Frank. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other.” What Frank was “up to” included a drug cartel and “all the other women.” (TSoT)

• Mrs. Hudson was a typist in Frank’s drug cartel (and an exotic dancer, which is in YouTube videos in-universe). This is also the scene where she’s present to hear enough to figure out that Mary shot Sherlock; in the original script, it’s made obvious that she was eavesdropping even after walking out. (HLV)

• We’re also given repeated reminders in TLD that Mrs. Hudson was/is somewhat of a badass. She tells Sherlock “you’re not my first smackhead, Sherlock Holmes,” and whether or not any of that (the revolver, the kidnapping of Sherlock, the car) is actually literally real, I take it mostly as a blatant reminder that Mrs. Hudson has a past filled with “not good” people.

A lot of this info is given in more comedic moments... but I think because it is repeatedly mentioned with consistent detail, especially largely in season 3 when Mary arrives (partially to mirror John/Mary’s doomed relationship), it shouldn’t be swept aside.

Speaking of Mary, let’s get into it.

In ACD’s The Sign of Four, Mary Morstan’s story centers heavily around the loss of her father. That’s also the story that involves the Agra treasure, and Mary notably receives 6 pearls in the mail as part of the mystery. Keep all of this in mind because it’s going to be relevant as we go.

First, let’s roll all the way back to The Abominable Bride.

(All transcripts I will be quoting are from the inimitable Ariane DeVere.)

Giles, & Morse Hudson

The abominable bride herself–who I trust we all know mirrors Mary at this point lol–stands on the balcony and aims her guns at people on the street while saying “You?” / “You, or me?” One of the people she aims at is this man, who is listed in the credits as Giles. I always found it odd that he was named, so I decided to look him up in relation to Sherlock Holmes.

“Giles” connects to Giles Conover, the criminal in the 1944 Sherlock Holmes movie The Pearl of Death. That movie is loosely based on ACD’s The Adventure of the Six Napoleans. In the movie, Giles (who is not in the ACD story) stole the Borgia Pearl and hid it in a bust of Napoleon. In case there’s any doubt, we can know for a fact that Moffat and Gatiss are familiar with this movie because they referenced it in TGG previously; the Golem assassin is a nod to The Creeper.

So I was like, why that movie specifically? What’s significant, and how would that connect to the bride?

And as I’m sure you’ve figured out by now... they later referenced that movie again in TST. The writers called back to both the ACD story and the 1944 movie, very specifically.

Referenced movie details I noticed in TST include the following: Sherlock calls Lestrade “Giles.” The Borgia Pearl (movie phrasing, as opposed to “the black pearl of the Borgias”) is mentioned multiple times; we’ll go back to that. We are also pointedly told by Ajay that one of the members of AGRA was killed via a broken back, which is how a murder happens in the 1944 movie.

As for TST’s references to the original Napoleon story by ACD... there are many, but there’s one thing they pointedly didn’t reference (unless I missed it) that I find interesting: in the ACD story, 3 of the 6 busts were at the shop of a Morse Hudson. Beppo, the criminal in the story, worked at Morse Hudson’s shop to have access to the locations of those 3 busts. Even in The Six Thatchers version on John’s blog, Beppo is the criminal but Morse Hudson was not mentioned.

So I thought... alright, Morse? What morse code have we seen in the show? Well, there’s UMQRA, from The Hounds of Baskerville.

I poked around and some genius anon on @inevitably-johnlocked‘s blog once said that if you encode UMQRA with HOUND using a vigenere cypher, you get BAKED. Mary bakes her own bread, according to Sherlock’s deductions in TEH. The abominable bride, in the above scene, shoots at/into a bakery.

Edit: @rosie_ww on Twitter aka @silverybees pointed me to this, from THoB:

SHERLOCK: You’ve been to see Mr Chatterjee again.

MRS HUDSON: Pardon?

SHERLOCK: Sandwich shop. That’s a new dress, but there’s flour on the sleeve. You wouldn’t dress like that for baking.

(Friendly reminder that shortly thereafter we find out that Mr. Chatterjee has other women)

Does this morse code / BAKED business necessarily mean anything by itself? No, and of anything in this post, it’s the biggest stretch. But it’s still kind of wild, because let’s recap so far:

• We have Morse Hudson in The Adventure of the Six Napoleons, a story which is heavily referenced in TST

• TST heavily connects to Mary / AGRA (we’ll get to how specifically)

• TST also heavily connects to The Pearl of Death, which connects to TAB

• And not only that, but The Pearl of Death connects to the exact scene in TAB where the bride shoots @ Giles and the bread shop. The bread shop could connect to the UMQRA morse code in the show... meaning “Morse” (code, and therefore Hudson) could then connect to Mary.

Morse Hudson -> The Six Napoleons -> TST -> The Pearl of Death (“Giles” etc.) -> TAB (“Giles”) -> Mary, the bride

Oh what a tangled web we weave. That’s a Hudson to Mary.

But let’s keep going. Better stuff to come.

The Black Pearl of the Borgias In TST

Let’s play the game of following the trail of the Black Pearl. Shout out to @miadifferent and @impossibleleaf, because their combo post here I came across was very helpful for showing me the best way to write this out to make it easily understandable. I will be quoting / paraphrasing them below!

The first time we hear about the Pearl, it’s from Mycroft, who connects it to Moriarty’s final activities:

MYCROFT: In the last year of his life, James Moriarty was involved with four political assassinations over 70 assorted robberies and terrorist attacks, including a chemical weapons factory in North Korea and had latterly shown some interest in tracking down the Black Pearl of the Borgias, which is still missing by the way, in case you feel like applying yourself to something practical.

We also learn that the Pearl is somehow connected to London.

HOPKINS: Interpol think, the case of the Borgia Pearl trail leads back to London, so..

So we have Moriarty -> Black Pearl -> London...

And next up, there’s Sherlock’s “fake” deduction about Greta Bengtsdotter (who has always very obviously made us all think about Mary.)

SHERLOCK: Your wife is a spy. That’s right. Her real name is Greta Bengtsdotter. Swedish by birth and probably the most dangerous spy in the world. She’s been operating deep undercover for the past four years now as your wife for one reason only: to get near the American embassy which is across the road from your flat. Tomorrow the U.S. president will be at the embassy as part of an official state visit. As the president greets members of staff, Greta Bengtsdotter, disguised as a twenty-two stone cleaner, will inject the president in the back of the neck with a dangerous new drug hidden inside a secret compartment insider her padded armpit. This drug will then render the president entirely susceptible to the will of their new master, none other than James Moriarty. Moriarty will then use the president as a pawn to destabilize the United Nations General Assembly which is due to vote on a nuclear non-proliferation treaty tipping the balance in favour of a first strike policy against Russia. This chain of events will then prove unstoppable thus precipitating World War 3.

The name “Greta” is derived from the name Margareta, which comes from the Greek word margarites. It means pearl. Further versions of this name are Margarita / Margaret / Maggie.

Thus, we add her in: Moriarty -> Greta -> Black Pearl -> London

So when Sherlock finds the AGRA stick in the busts of Margaret Thatcher, he says to Mary...

SHERLOCK: I was so convinced it was Moriarty, I couldn’t see what was right under my nose. I expected a pearl.

Sherlock expected to find a pearl (Greta / a spy), but instead he found AGRA/Mary’s identity. He actually found what he was looking for, but he just didn’t recognize it.

And it actually still makes sense:

Margaret Thatcher’s bust -> Black Pearl -> Greta (“pearl”, spy) -> Mary (spy) -> AGRA memory stick

That’s how it went in the plot. It’s a subconscious connection.

So what’s ACD have to say about all that then?

This is the point where I remind you...

So all of this does have connections back to ACD canon; who is surprised?

But what do we know about Mary’s past from the show’s canon in His Last Vow? Let’s look at some other reminders.

SHERLOCK: By your skill set, you are – or were – an intelligence agent. Your accent is currently English but I suspect you are not. You’re on the run from something; you’ve used your skills to disappear; Magnussen knows your secret, which is why you were going to kill him; and I assume you befriended Janine in order to get close to him.

MAGNUSSEN: All those wet jobs for the CIA. Ooh! She’s gone a bit... freelance now. Bad girl.

Mary’s not English; she could be Swedish, she could be American, but regardless–Sherlock deduced she’s a linguist in TEH. And either way, she’s worked for America.

Americans crop up a weird amount in BBC Sherlock (and ACD canon too really), and usually in negative contexts. I just want to highlight one American connection from The Abominable Bride, about Emilia Ricoletti:

SHERLOCK: So she decided to make her death count. She was already familiar with the secret societies of America and was able to draw on their methods of fear and intimidation to publicly – very publicly – confront Sir Eustace Carmichael with the sins of his past.

HOOPER: He knew her out in the States. Promised her everything... marriage, position – and then he had his way with her and threw her over, left her abandoned and penniless.

Also, where was it that Mr. Hudson had his drug cartel? Oh yeah. Florida.

We’ll go back to that.

More Margarets In BBC Sherlock

So we’ve officially got one connection where Margaret relates to Mary. TST makes that pretty clear.

Now, where else have we encountered the name Margaret in the show?

Three places (at least, that I’ve caught):

1. A Study In Pink.

The first victim of Jeff Hope the serial killer is Sir Jeffrey Patterson. He was having an affair with his personal assistant Helen, despite being married to his wife Margaret Patterson.

It’s a well-known fact in this fandom that the victims in ASiP are considered mirrors for John Watson, highlighting things that would lead to his own unhappiness/death–possibly even by suicide. (TJLCE video) So, let’s say Jeffrey Patterson is a mirror for John.

Helen the personal assistant (who says “I love you”) is, perhaps, a mirror for Sherlock. She’s wearing a deep purple shirt.

Does that connect Margaret Patterson, who insists her husband was happy, to Mary?

MARGARET PATTERSON: My husband was a happy man who lived life to the full. He loved his family and his work – and that he should have taken his own life in this way is a mystery and a shock to all who knew him.

[looks at John’s unhappiness in HLV after a month of marriage, looks at series 4 theories about John faking his suicide / trying to commit suicide, laughs nervously]

Well. Moving on.

2. The Hounds of Baskerville.

Project HOUND was a CIA Classified / American project that Major Barrymore was involved in. The Major is apparently a fan of Margaret Thatcher, and the password to his laptop is Maggie. Sherlock types “Margare” then hesitantly backtracks and writes Maggie and it works. It’s worth noting that in the script it was drafted to just be Margaret.

3. The Sign of Three.

MRS. HUDSON: My best friend, Margaret – she was my chief bridesmaid. We were going to be best friends forever, we always said that; but I hardly saw her after that. [...] She cried the whole day, saying, “Ooh, it’s the end of an era.” She was probably right, really. I remember she left early. I mean, who leaves a wedding early?

So in BBC Sherlock, the name Margaret is connected to...

• The Margaret Thatcher busts in The Six Thatchers, which connects to Mary/AGRA/pearls/Greta the Swedish spy

• Margaret Patterson, the wife of a mirror for John who was the victim of murder that masqueraded as suicide. This Margaret insists that the John mirror was happy in their marriage, but the John mirror was having an affair with a Sherlock mirror

• Project HOUND, of the CIA. I find this exceedingly interesting because the name "Margaret” has connections to Moriarty/Mary, and this could mean it’s safe to guess that this case is/was connected to the wider Moriarty web. We see Sherlock hallucinate Moriarty when drugged by the fog, sure, but otherwise Moriarty’s handiwork supposedly isn’t involved in this case... but maybe it was indirectly, by Mary in the CIA. Just ruminating.

• Margaret was Mrs. Hudson’s best friend, who left the wedding early when Mrs. Hudson and Frank got married

Re: that last bullet point, here is what I am suggesting as a possibility: Margaret was one of Mr. Hudson’s “other women.” Margaret left the wedding early because she was sad about the marriage, obviously, but maybe she wasn’t in love with Mrs. H like we would naturally assume (per Sherlock leaving the wedding early because he loves John). Maybe Margaret was in love with Mr. Hudson.

Maybe Mary is the daughter of Margaret and Mr. Hudson, and (as previously stated) she’s motivated to get revenge on Sherlock for killing her father and ruining the drug cartel empire. Who knows what would’ve happened to her mother Margaret, in that case, too.

This is speculation, of course, yes. Yet [waves to all the ridiculous web of connections I’ve delved deeply into, and the Frank Hudson hangman] can you blame me?

But, maybe you’re wondering... why would I think she’s the daughter of a Hudson specifically, even aside from all this Margaret stuff?

Well.

Hudsons In ACD Canon

Where is the name “Hudson” used in ACD canon, other than for Mrs. Hudson?

Three places (that I’ve caught; my ACD canon knowledge is limited):

• Morse Hudson in The Adventure of the Six Napoleons, as discussed above; not mentioned in BBC Sherlock canon for some reason, yet strongly tied to the story that inspired TST.

• A name drop of “Hudson” in The Adventure of the Five Orange Pips.

Quick run-down of some aspects of this case: the client, John Openshaw, asks Holmes for help because a series of mysterious letters seems to be connected with the recent suspicious deaths of his uncle Elias and his father Joseph. The letters included 5 orange pips, and KKK on the envelope. When his uncle received his letter, he burnt a bunch of secret personal papers. One paper survived; it’s on that paper that we see Hudson’s name, associated with the KKK, and otherwise oddly unrelated to the case.

Holmes moved the lamp, and we both bent over the sheet of paper, which showed by its ragged edge that it had indeed been torn from a book. It was headed, “March, 1869,” and beneath were the following enigmatical notices:

“4th. Hudson came. Same old platform.

“7th. Set the pips on McCauley, Paramore, and John Swain of St. Augustine.

“9th. McCauley cleared.

“10th. John Swain cleared.

“12th. Visited Paramore. All well.”

Here are other ~features of interest~ in this case to me: Openshaw’s uncle Elias was a planter in Florida for many years. Florida is mentioned by Holmes as a “notable” state where the KKK formed a branch; the others are Tennessee, Louisiana, the Carolinas, and Georgia (hello to Tbilisi, Georgia being in TST seemingly at random). It is also mentioned that the fear of someone or something is what drove Elias from America to England. There’s also a very random name drop of “Mary” in this story that doesn’t relate to the case, told as part of Openshaw’s story, in which I can only assume Mary was a maid?

OPENSHAW, QUOTING UNCLE ELIAS: “They may do what they like, but I’ll checkmate them still,’ said he with an oath. ‘Tell Mary that I shall want a fire in my room to-day, and send down to Fordham, the Horsham lawyer.’

The fact that the name Mary manages to be in this cracks me up.

The orange pips / secret societies in America / etc. all heavily tie into The Abominable Bride, and the women’s hoods were visually reminiscent of the KKK. Sir Eustace’s line in TAB of “Death” (when he receives the pips) is a direct quote from Elias in this story when he receives his pips–and a quote that Mary echoes in TST when she completes Vivian Norbury’s sentence in the aquarium.

VIVIAN NORBURY: I’m just like the merchant in the story. I thought I could outrun the inevitable. I’ve always been looking over my shoulder; always expecting to see the grim figure of...

MARY: Death.

So, in summary we have: a name drop of Hudson in a story that factors in Florida, Georgia, pips, secret societies, the KKK, and even a name drop of Mary.

• Hudson is the criminal in The Adventure of the Gloria Scott.

This case is the one Holmes credits as his first case, and it inspired his future profession. He’s telling Watson the story. It happened in his university days and centers on his friend Victor Trevor (TFP says hi, lmao). More specifically, it centers on Victor Trevor’s father. I won’t go into all the details, and the plot summary on Wikipedia is good if you’re curious, but–

A quick run-down of some ~features of interest~ in this case: Mr. Trevor the elder is being blackmailed by the criminal Hudson because of their old criminal past together with others. Hudson is threatening him with exposure / public shame, and Mr. Trevor is forced to employ him. Victor gets pissed about it and eventually upsets Hudson enough that Hudson leaves in a very “this isn’t over” kind of way. Later, Mr. Trevor dies from a stroke after receiving a letter that threatened him via a skip code. It is a skip code of specifically every third word, beginning with the first.

Full skip code message: "The supply of game for London is going steadily up. Head-keeper Hudson, we believe, has been now told to receive all orders for fly-paper and for preservation of your hen pheasant's life."

Decoded message: "The game is up. Hudson has told all. Fly for your life."

(It’s not a game anymore...)

Who do we have in show canon who recognizes a skip code on sight of specifically every third word, beginning with the first?

All together now: Mary.

(Bonus points for “Save John Watson” being the phrase Mary says in her creepy posthumous DVDs. Bonus points x2 for the fact that this text was sent by Magnussen, the “Napoleon of blackmail,” to Mary when he was supposedly trying to find Sherlock’s pressure point. But anyway!)

Another feature of interest about the Gloria Scott case: Holmes deduces that Mr. Trevor was once connected to someone with the initials J.A. whom he wanted to forget, guessing it was an old lover. Mr. Trevor momentarily faints in shock. Holmes guessed this based on an old arm tattoo that Mr. Trevor had tried to get rid of, where the initials are blurry. This later turns out to be wrong, because Mr. Trevor’s previous name was James Armitage–J.A.–when he was a criminal, and that is the reason behind the tattoo. (JA? AJ / Ajay? Much to think about)

The J.A. tattoo deduction was referenced in The Six Thatchers, when Sherlock deduces that the client had a Japanese girlfriend he is now indifferent about.

SHERLOCK: You’ve got a Japanese tattoo in the crook of your elbow in the name ‘Akako.’ It’s obvious you’ve tried to have it removed.

KINGSLEY: But surely that means I wanna forget her, not that I’m indifferent.

SHERLOCK: If she’d really hurt your feelings, you would have had the word obliterated, but the first attempt wasn’t successful and you haven’t tried again, so it seems you can live with the slightly blurred memory of Akako, hence the indifference.

I’m bothering to highlight this in TST because after Sherlock explains it, the client remarks upon it being “simple”... and that’s when Sherlock immediately launches into his ~fake~ long-winded deduction about his wife being Greta the spy, as I already talked about above. Wild.

One last fascinating thing about the Gloria Scott: this case is referenced in 2 other ACD stories–The Sussex Vampire (John texting in TST), and The Musgrave Ritual (TFP). Gotta love that.

So, uh, what if Mrs. Hudson’s “case” (getting her husband executed) was one of Sherlock’s “firsts” that inspires him to become a consultive detective full-time? We’re told in ASiP that he ensured Frank Hudson’s execution “a few years back.” The inexactness of that year amount drives me bonkers, but I think it’s potentially plausible.

Short Coda: Ghost Stories...

In Mr. Trevor’s reply to Holmes’ (incorrect) J.A. tattoo deduction, he includes the following line:

“Of all ghosts, the ghosts of our old loves are the worst.”

Mark Gatiss talked a lot about ghost stories. In the Sherlock Chronicles book (which I own) teasing series 4, he said, “I can certainly give you one word. Ghosts...” and in this interview he said “There’s a conspiracy theory about everything and they’re almost the modern equivalent of ghost stories. And the great thing is, you can have all the tropes of a ghost story. . . There are lots of people in happy marriages who turn out to have terrible secrets or to have done some awful deed in the past that must be paid for in the present. In Doyle’s stories, those are the ghosts you need to worry about.”

And here are the lines we get from Holmes in The Abominable Bride about ghosts (that aren’t literal):

You may, however, rest assured there are no ghosts in this world... Save those we make for ourselves.

We all have a past, Watson. Ghosts – they are the shadows that define our every sunny day. Sir Eustace knows he’s a marked man.

The avenging ghost – a legend to strike terror into the heart of any man with malicious intent; a spectre to stalk those unpunished brutes whose reckoning is long overdue.

While typing, I’ve now galaxy-brained my way to the realization that Mrs. H was canonically an “abominable bride” to Frank Hudson and literally murdered him (with Sherlock’s help), just like the women in the special. She’s also shown as one of the women ignored/disparaged in the special (”I’m your landlady, not a plot device”) but just isn’t shown in the crypt/society. So that’s, uh... interesting.

In (Semi-)Conclusion: A Summary

We have the following significant points at minimum:

• A Frank Hudson clue in a series 4 video

• One reference where Mary is undeniably connected to a Hudson who was a criminal in ACD canon (skip code)

• One ACD Hudson who was heavily connected to The Six Napoleons story, aka The Six Thatchers

• One ACD Hudson name-dropped in a story that heavily connects to The Abominable Bride, and Florida

• A bizarre pile of evidence that all Margaret mentions in the show could relate back to Mary the ex-CIA spy, in some way or another

• A Margaret connected to Mrs. Hudson who could’ve been in love with Frank Hudson (in Florida)

• The overall theme of s4 being ghosts from past deeds and un(happy) marriages coming to haunt people. And lest we forget, “ghost” Mary literally haunts Sherlock and John after her “death.”

Does that cover it? I feel like that covers it.

Of course, I absolutely could be reading into a ton of things that are unrelated, but... Who is to say ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Random Related Stuff

Not required reading, but while poking around, I’ve found other things that could or could not connect to the above theory. I’m just gonna... info dump it right here. It could all be meaningless, it could all connect, it could be unrelated! You decide! Lots of meta links involved below, so credit where credit is due.

• I knew I wasn’t the first to come up with this concept/possibility of Mary being a Hudson. While building this post, I ran a search and came across this old one by @the-7-percent-solution, who posited there’s a letter game at play of AEIOU involving Mary’s monstrous regiment of various characters and connects Amo/Love to Mary. I love this concept, and while I do think there are other elements/aspects in play for the plot besides just this, that post still has pieces that can work nicely; doesn’t matter that it was written before TFP aired.

• Frequently thinking about how Sherlock said “Mrs. Hudson? Leave Baker Street? England would fall,” because what does Mrs. Hudson do in TLD? She leaves Baker Street.

• All of the above cursed elements haunt me. (Arwel’s Instagram post was April of this year.) Note: there’s another tweet Arwel jokingly posted of this photo years ago, but that tweet’s caption was connected to Brexit based on dates / my memory (i.e. “England has fallen”), so I’m not including it lol.

• In TFP, when Mrs. Hudson is vacuuming, she’s listening to Iron Maiden’s “The Number of the Beast.” The lyrics we get are “666, the Number of the Beast. Hell and fire was spawned to be released.” The other time 666 is mentioned was by Mary in TST, in reference to Rosie.

• Mrs. Hudson is in the center of the 221B promo pic for series 4, as noticed by @sherlocks-salty-blog.

• This cursed pic of Mary’s "ring from her past” on top of a series 4, episode 3 script (??) that Amanda took has haunted me since she tweeted it. Mary wears this ring on-screen in TEH, and you can see it when Sherlock deduces her.

• The Gabrielle Ashdown passport (in TST) is from America.

• Janine (who many of us notice is likely involved with Mary / Moriarty of course) often wears pearls, as @sherlockmeta noticed. Mary also wears pearl earrings in series 4 promo shots but never in s4 episodes (that I can find/remember). I also always think that Mary and Mrs. Hudson are dressed very similarly in s4 promo images (see all promos here).

• @raggedyblue discussed how Sherlock’s window deduction in TLD sounds a lot like Mrs. Hudson’s kitchen in 221A, and how a sheet of paper being pinned/folded is an opposite element in ACD’s The Sign of Four. The re-folded paper was a map leading to the AGRA treasure, and Mary found it in her father’s desk. Brilliant catch. Of course, in the show, the paper says Miss Me which is also heavily connected to Mary.

• The mystery of the little girls with blond and braided hair, as compiled by @ebaeschnbliah, is also going to haunt me. I suggest reading the post, but minor summary: during s4 setlock, there was filming with Ben and Mark at Ogmore Castle with a little girl "wearing a skirt or dress, and her hair was blonde and in pigtails,” and she was running circles around Sherlock. There are two separate reports from people who saw this and mentioned it had to do with Mary; at first glance it bears similarities to Eurus scenes we got in TFP, but seems different in description. This also brings to mind the little girl with blonde braided hair in TEH at the bonfire, who notably wears a bright red jacket just like Mary. And there’s also a doll with blond braided pigtails in Magnussen’s mind palace.

• @gosherlocked has posts about “The Children of Sherlock” (part 1)(part 2) that highlight how children are frequently victims in this show. Metaphorically, I find this interesting if Mary plays a role of a “wronged child” avenging her father, regardless of age.

• Let’s talk music in TLD–or at least, one piece of it. When Mrs. Hudson drops the teacup, Mozart’s “Andante From Piano Concerto #21” plays. That specific second movement was used in the 1967 Swedish film Elvira Madigan. Sweden, of course, immediately reminded me of Greta the spy (aka Mary) being Swedish. After I realized this info, I ran a search to see if anyone else had mentioned this movie and I found this post, where @tjlcisthenewsexy and @possiblyimbiassed discussed how it’s a story of 2 doomed lovers who die via suicide-by-revolver. This is significant because Sherlock drops a revolver to catch the tea; death replaced by (gay) love?

• Speaking of Sweden: in The Game Is Now, Sherlock is abroad in Sweden. This is mentioned more than once: first, in this audio message between Sherlock and Mycroft (“Sweden sends its regards.” “It does?” “No, not really.”). This audio message also includes “This is not an international game of sardines.” Fish reference? Aquarium?

The second Sweden mention is visually, in this video. See below. (Also, in both, the characters say “real people,” which I can’t help but feel is a fourth wall break of them being fictional?)

I hate this Sweden stuff specifically. Thank you.

This post is so much longer than I expected it would be, thank you for reading all of this if you did, Johnlock is real, Mary is a villain, etc.

Come yell at me on Twitter @CharCubed!

Also, I made a secret sideblog @frankhudson to just reblog meta or info I might want to be able to find later lmao. Feel free to poke around if you want.

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randomnameless · 4 years

Text

I was browsing a tag (i know i shouldn’t do that) and i read an old post nerding about ancient civilisations and parallels with FE16 which made me glee bcs i love to nerd about history

But then i was disappointed

Important Agarthans seem to have greek names (?) so they could be ancient greece, okay why not (the superiority complex over the rest of the world feels adequate but then idk if Socrates (Soloncrates?) would call actual humans beasts or not).

But then it was affirmed that Rhea, not the Nabateans, but Rhea, was Ancient Rome (Romea?). She 1) razed the Agarthans, 2) expanded the Church in the continent and 3) allied with Wilhelm of Adrestia and later Loog who represents the various germanic tribes.

Which made me raise an eyebrow.

1) I’ve already posted earlier about the Sothis/Agartha war but here it seems a bit odd to single out Rhea amidst her people for having rekt Agartha when it was, at most, a collective action of several Nabateans, regardless of the fact that Rhea may or not have participated in the first war.

Also, in FE16, the Nabateans gave their technology to Agarthans, who in turn developed it and turned against them. Ancient Rome was tsun-tsun with their greek neighbours, but it is now commonly accepted that the first romans tried to “copy” or at least were heavily inspired by Ancient Greece to build a national identity. I mean Virgil even wrote a poem to make a Trojan ancestor to what would later become the roman people, and that’s not talking about how the old Roman pantheon borrowed the Greek one but with aliases worse than Danved and Devdan...

In FE16, “Greece” actually borrowed/received their technology from “Rome” but tried to attack “Rome” and failed. “Rome” retaliated, destroyed “Greece” to the point where romans don’t even know what “Greece” was and can only make suppositions about its existence.

This doesn’t match RL history.

2) Expanding the Church in the continent : this is actually speculation, but afaik, when Adrestia conquered the continent, its religion would have automatically been spread? Still, comparing the Church of Seiros to another religion starting with a C doesn’t really work.

Adrestia was founded by a dude who had been annointed by Seiros herself. The Church, or at least Seiros and her pals, already existed before the Empire. Constantine the Great was the first Emperor to convert to christianity, but he was not the founder of Rome! Christianity became a “state” religion after Constantine. Heck, Julian thought his uncle’s religion was lousy so he returned to a polytheist cult.

In FE16, the only schism between Adrestia (the Empire) and the Church happened after the Southern Church was expelled, giving a good 1000 years of church approved Empire.

Saying Romea expanded the reach of the church through out all of Fodlan isn’t wrong, iirc part of the mediation accepting the Kingdom’s existence is to allow the church to preach in the newly formed kingdom, but i’m not sure it could be tied to RL history, because in Fodlan, Wilhelm walked side by side with Jesus, and Jesus crowned him Emperor. Jesus won against Nemesis. Adrestia’s legitimacy/creation comes from Jesus.

So I don’t think it’s Rhea expanding the reach of the Church through Fodlan, but more Seiros is part of the Empire’s lore, she’s that actual saintly figure who defeated the strongest man ever so everywhere in the Empire tales of Seiros and her deeds are heard of, it makes sense to follow/buy her story.

Also, if the “religion” the church of Seiros preaches is the rewritten history, people must have “converted” after the unification of Fodlan and yet, if Seirosism is the state religion, and the state is controlling Fodlan, can we say Romea expanded her religion through the continent, or Fodlan, after being conquered by Adrestia, automatically became Seirosist?

It would actually echo the bid to allow the Church to preach in the newly formed Faerghus, if Loog wanted to fig off Adrestia, he might even want to have a different religion than the one from the Empire he came from, hell, the Kingdom even returned to the former naming practices existing before Adrestia.

The Church would have wanted to make sure that no matter what Loog was doing with his bunch of humans in the North, he would still believe crests are a gift from the goddess, they shouldn’t be misused and if you ever find Macuil don’t murder him to make weapons out of his body.

short story long story : it’s the story of the egg and the chicken, did Seirosism became the leading religion in the continent because Rhea actively preached around, or because it was Adrestia’s state religion? idk.

3) Rome “allied” (well, TC said Rome lorded and traded with germanic tribes until shit hit the fan) with germanic tribes. They could be traded with. But they were not roman citizens. I’m not that well versed in this part of the Roman Empire (even if some part of France was classified as Germania at that time! RIP Franche-Comté T-T). Thing is, Rome never asked for Germania’s help to defeat some enemy, hell, when barbarians invasions happened, it hit Germania first and then Rome.

This is where the Romea analogy falls.

First of all, Wilhelm became Wilhelm of Adrestia thanks to Seiros who annointed/crowned him, without Seiros there is no Adrestia. (iirc in one of Seiros’ books it is said Seiros makes emperors out of men, and the tradition needs the archbishop to bear witness each time a new emperor is crowned, so i suppose Rhea crowned/proclamed/anointed/made Wilhelm an Emperor).

Rome never had that kind of influence (afaik?) on the various germanic tribes.

Before Adrestia we had Enbarr and, I guess, several tribes. As I see it (it may be wrong!) Adrestia is made to mirror Rome, sort of. Wilhelm “of Adrestia” set out to conquer unify the world. Now, did Seiros told him to conquer the world or did he came to that conclusion alone, we will never know. And yet, in the time period we’re speaking of (antiquity?), there’s no “Germanic Empire”. Adrestia started as an unified state, not as several tribes. Adrestia thus cannot be likened to “germanic tribes”.

Second, Loog did not receive help from Rhea, but it’s implied (still it’s from the shadow library so i’m not holding it against the TC) he received help from Mole People.

But from what we know, in the Vanilla game, Loog defeated the Emperor of Adrestia. It is during the aftermath that the Empire, House Charon and the Church negotiated and decided Loog could found his Kingdom. I do not see how Rhea “allied” with the guy, nor, again, what kind of germanic tribe he represents given how he actually got his independance from the Empire to create his own Kingdom.

Then we have another set of facts which are less about history and more about the game, but for the history ones :

Romea cannot 4) enforce the will of the Church and Western branch rebelling mirrors Rome’s western’s provinces being unruly and Romea gradually losing grasp on Adrestia 5) The Church isn’t completely sacked but still remains in CF to mirror Rome’s “gradual” fall/out of powerlessness (for funsies 6) Edel and the Agarthans make Rome face what they did to Greece and represent the germanic tribes coming after Rome after they managed to free themselves from its influence)

4) Unless I’m mistaken, the most occidental border of the Empire was the Atlantic Ocean? astérix is a product of french chauvinism

Northern borders were more problematic, we had Hadrian’s Wall to keep Picts at bay and in the 3rd century the “Saxon Shore” to fend off against invaders coming by the sea.

Of course around this time there was an important crisis that weakened the Empire, so it might explain why there was unrest everywhere. This crisis saw the birth of the Western Gallic Empire, but also of the Eastern Palmyrene Empire (everyone was happy when Diocletian unified the empire afterwards). After, let’s say, 300ish, the Empire, in general, had difficulties to deal with and keep its borders.

Back to FE, the western church rebelling is actually at odds with Rome, because when it comes to religious stuff, the eastern provinces were the most concerned/active, not the western ones (1st council of nicea was made because of the arian controversy (The Son and the Father are the same entity or not? Discuss) in the eastern provinces).

Apparently, the Western Church rebels because they don’t like/follow the creed of the Central Church, but if we wanted to keep the Rome analogy, it should have been the Eastern church rebelling. From what we see, it is not because they follow another religion, but they have a difference in doctrine (but then it is muddled because mole people, otoh, it is never said that the western church thinks seiros is a hax or the goddess doesn’t exist, they want to claim lands on behalf of Saint Cichol which means they adhere, at least, to the main dogma about saints) and really don’t like Rhea for some reason. tbh i think some “germanic tribes” converted to arianism but they weren’t the theologists who theorised it

Central Church lost its grasp on Adrestia in 1065 (iirc?) when the southern branch was expelled. Idk if everything was fine and dandy before, but given how Rhea oversaw the construction of Garreg Mach after the WoH and tried to resurrect Sothis with the Chalice, I’d say she already said “peace i’m out” to Adrestia and would just be there for some ceremonies (crowning/being a witness for new emperors i suppose).

I’ve said it earlier, but Adrestia is not supposed to represent the “germanic tribes”, Adrestia is Rome. Adrestia having german names could also mean that the devs were lazy because Gaius Claudius isn’t a funky name, but the HRE was situated in western-central europe. Edel’s rebellion against the central church could mirror HRE and the Reformation, save for the fact that Edel dgaf about the goddess bcs humanity doesn’t need gods or something. So the analogy doesn’t really work...

5) Coming to which, CF!Church is not anything like Seirosism or, i suppose, the former Sothisism cult. Various bloggers already tore this take apart, but the “Church” in post CF-Fodlan seems to be less spiritual and more of an organisation which is overseen by the Emperor.

I mean, if Edel says humans don’t need gods, what is the Church supposed to do? Fodlan has a cult? A religion? Faith? Faith in what? People are supposed to be free to chose what to believe in, but it is clear that “humans” don’t need gods, so what? You can believe in whatever you want, but not in Sothis because we don’t need her, and fig to the children of the Goddess or fig you if you’re still a follower of Seirosism? Rome still exists nowadays as a capital of a living country, I cannot affirm the Church exists, or if whatever the church of Seiros did is still maintained.

Also, “Rome” as in the Roman Empire (kind of) survived with the Byzantine Empire and the HRE. I don’t think offshoots of the Church of Seiros would be allowed to prosper in CF’s Fodlan.

6) :)

I cannot remember if Romea’s people (well a civilisation cannot have brethrens it’s not a being!) were turned into various weapons by Socrates and Plato (if they had been blacksmiths i’d have been more interested in philosophy classes i swear) but as far as i know Edel’s Adrestia didn’t wage war against Romea because of her conquests or what she did to Soloncrates/Ancient Greece, nope or to free Adrestia from Romea (especially since Adrestia got rid of the church since 1065). Edel wants to conquer the world and change the “system” in place.

Bonus : About names, yes, the devs validated the “Adrestia is both rome and germany combined” which is as WTF as it seems, and yet, last Emperor from the HRE was named Francis II with his birth name being Franz Joseph Karl which is very far removed from, idk, Trajan being Marcus Ulpius Trajanus. I don’t think the devs thought a lot about names tbh, still, if Emperor Wilhelm might sound “german” and yet his second name Paul, is latin (paulus) so idk. Ionius was apparently a name used in Rome?

#FE16 #wew that was long #semi-rant?#history of fodlan?#not going to pick everything apart of course #this post was made before the DCL and the Dev's interview #but i thought it was clear since the beginning that Adrestia was Rome #it fell apart and now it's a shell of itself like HRE #especially with the von switch #Romea #I'm not that knowledgeable on ancient roman history btw #or the roman empire through the ages #yes rome had trouble to deal with germanic tribes #but at one point rome even had trouble dealing with itself so #After Trajan Rome kind of fell apart and was never able to recover #i was bored to death by a class of the council of nicea and arianism so if i can use it for once in a fandom related post i will #now i know i'm hammering wilhelm/lycaon being emperors of the world #but lbr if seiros really wanted to rule she would have been able to who was going to challenge her?#she defeated nemesis she is the prophet #otoh when the church doctrine started to become wide-spread?#what was even the church of seiros during the war? Rhea cannot rewrite history if people are living in the same era #i mean more of this looks like a rant but i felt the Greece/Rome antagonism was misunderstood #jupiter is totally not zeus because we thought your pantheon looked cool so we wanted to copy it nope #nabateans were the more advanced ones who shared with aghartians not the inverse #and then i went on a wiki spree #pre imperial era #if we have to HC everything about Fodlan then i'd rather waste my time pondering about pre imperial Fodlan than anything else #i am very proud of soloncrates if you wonder

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jahaanofmenaphos · 4 years

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Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

Read the full work here:

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TUMBLR CHAPTER INDEX

QUEST 09: OUR SPIRITS, KINDRED

QUEST SUMMARY:

When Ariane is kidnapped and the signs point to Sliske, Jahaan is forced to confront the Mahjarrat once again. But this time, things take a turn for the twisted, and Jahaan uncovers the truth behind Sliske’s obsession with him. Can Jahaan survive Sliske’s games? After all, broken bones heal faster than a broken mind…

CHAPTER 5: A MALICE UNLEASHED

Meanwhile…

“So we need to make sure Sliske doesn’t notice Jahaan’s missing?” Ariane surmised.

Rolling her eyes, Idria remarked, “How are we supposed to do that? The creep doesn’t take his eyes off him…”

“Leave it to me,” Ozan assured, leading them all into the next chamber, trying not to let it show just how exhausted he was. His injuries were flaring up again, pain pulsing inside his bandages, and the stress of the situation threatened to bring forth a migraine. His shattered ankle was a new kind of agony, making the simple act of standing up a tremendous effort, but he tried not to let it show. There was no time for wallowing or self-pitying, Ozan told himself, knowing he had to do everything he could to get Ariane and the others out of there safely.

He’d never forgive himself if anything happened to Ariane on his watch.

Unfortunately, he had very little to work with under the circumstances. Like Jahaan, he had been stripped of all his weapons. Nevertheless, Ozan’s smart mouth was as deadly as any bow he could wield, succeeding in getting him both in and out of trouble on many an occasion. So, he thought it best to utilise it here, hoping he could keep Sliske talking long enough to help out Jahaan. Any time he bought was a victory.

Already suspicious, Sliske peered over Ozan’s shoulder, glaring through the group. “Where’s Jahaan?”

“He’s still throwing up after the whole Sir Tenly thing,” Ozan crossed his arms over his chest, hoping his conviction came across as genuine and not a facade. “Give the guy a break.”

It seemed to take, for Sliske rolled his eyes and chuckled, “You humans with your fragile consistencies. Fine, fine. I suppose we’re in no rush.”

Sizing Ozan up with a keen eye, Sliske said, “We haven’t properly been introduced, you and I.”

“It feels like we have, though,” Ozan replied, carefully dangling out his words like they were fishing line. “I know a lot about you from what Jahaan has said. Or, in some ways, what he hasn’t said.”

Ozan had met a ridiculous amount of characters on his travels, a fair few of which he needed on his side for one reason or another. To accomplish this, each had to be handled in the right way in order to not let the stove pot boil over, so to speak. It was like picking a lock - find what makes them tick, don’t apply too much pressure, be patient. From what he gathered, Sliske was one wrong step away from disengaging completely, and he needed to give Jahaan more time. So, Ozan knew to keep it fairly light, to not back the Mahjarrat into a corner, and to favour simpler questions over the more pressing, problematic ones.

He also needed to keep Sliske entertained, curious and baited. In many ways, it was like keeping a small child distracted, though with vastly different consequences for failure.

It seemed to work, for an intrigued glimmer shone across Sliske’s features. “Oh really? Do tell.”

“Well, he spoke of you at the Ritual, the way you saved his life,” Ozan began, carefully. “Then of course, the way you masqueraded as that archeologist to get inside Guthix’s chamber. You really made him paranoid with that one, you know.”

Friendly, colloquial, casual. Ozan had to keep Sliske relaxed, had to talk to him like he would anyone else. “He attacked me in a bar once thinking I was you. So that was nice,” Ozan allowed a light chuckle into his words, relaxing his stance.

“I know. I was there,” Sliske’s grin doubled in size.

Eyes wide, Ozan was legitimately surprised. “You’re kidding!”

“Not in the slightest!” Sliske assured, gleefully. “I had a great view of the show! Of course, Jahaan cottoned on soon enough and ruined the game, but it was fun while it lasted.”

Chuckling, Ozan remarked, “He can be a little dangerous with too much liquor in his system.”

“Ah, I know that too,” Sliske’s eyes flashed, casually rubbing his chin. “He’s an interesting specimen.”

“But he’s more than just a specimen to you, right?” Ozan’s tone was slightly hushed. He didn’t give much time for Sliske to formulate a response, continuing, “I mean, you were the one that got Jahaan and me out of harm’s way. I see what he sees in you.”

Crinkling his brow, Sliske’s tone became guarded, yet fused with curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“Well, let’s just say, there was a reason he kept that invitation box of yours all this time.”

Ozan was near certain this was exactly what Sliske wanted to hear. It kept him enraptured, at least, which was what they needed now.

Capitalising, Ozan tested the dangerous waters, wading in by asking, “With that in mind, why did you bring Cyrius to him?”

From the way Sliske’s expression changed, Ozan knew he’d made a mistake. “That is not your concern. Cyrius played the part that he needed to play.”

“You knew how Jahaan felt,” Ozan guessed. It wasn’t a stretch. “And you know what happened when he lost him. If you cared about him, why would you bring back such memories?”

Ozan knew he was losing the thread here, but his own anger was getting the best of him. He wanted - no, needed answers - and biting his tongue was becoming more painful than how his burn scars felt.

“We must confront our demons if we are to ever conquer them,” Sliske’s stance grew more guarded, his face slightly colder and more neutral. “We both know that Jahaan changed on the day that Cyrius and the others were killed. Gone were the days of monster slaying, scaling treacherous mountains and freeing comatose Mahjarrat from their pyramid prisons. No, he lost the light behind his eyes. Then, he found service in the Imperial Guard, fighting Bandos’ mindless beasts. While it was good to see him fighting instead of moping, the routine… ah, it grew so stale. It was counterproductive.”

“It was stability,” Ozan corrected, his eyes narrowing into slits. “It was what he needed.”

“Repetitive, tedious…” Sliske continued, as if Ozan hadn’t spoken at all. “No, he needed a change of scenery. So, I played my part and set the wheels in motion.”

“Let me guess, you got to Commander Denulth?”

“He was easy to persuade,” Sliske confirmed, wringing his palms together. “Everything fell into place after that.”

Ozan could see how pleased Sliske was with himself, his ego getting a generous boost as the conversation continued. “So you planned for him to become the World Guardian?”

“Ah,” Sliske clapped his hands together, long fingers pressing against each other to emit a soft squeak from the leather of his gloves. “That was more of an... unintended consequence. But a fortunate one, wouldn’t you agree?” Ozan bit his lip. “Fortunate? Not how I’d put it.”

“How would you put it, then?” Sliske went on to say, “It’s not everyone who gets to mix it up with Gielinor’s divine. And yours truly, of course. In many ways, he’s better than ever.”

Ozan caught onto the slight edge in Sliske’s voice, one that betrayed what the Mahjarrat was really thinking. It was clear that neither of them believed a word Sliske was saying.

Jahaan was a great fighter, a decent man and someone Guthix deemed worthy enough to declare Gielinor’s guardian. But Jahaan was now under pressure, too much of it. He could be volatile and reckless, and though he tried his best to hide it from everyone, Jahaan was fraying at the edges. He’d been thrown back into the adventuring world of his past too forcefully, and with too much at stake. That letter from Commander Denulth had sparked Jahaan’s undoing. Ozan knew it, and he was certain Sliske did too. The only one who seemed oblivious was Jahaan himself.

While they were conversing, Mary Rancour edged over towards Idria. Rancour had her arms huddled across her chest, hugging herself, despite trying to keep a steely resolve. “How much longer do you think Jahaan will be?”

“I don’t know,” Idria confessed, disheartenedly. “But we’ve got to buy him as much time as possible.”

“I wonder how many more of these sick games Sliske has planned for us.”

“Hopefully this’ll be the last,” Idria bit her lip. “I guess we'll just have to tough it out and help Jahaan as best we can.”

Mary Rancour responded by grumbling something under her breath; Idria could sense her distress, inquiring, “What’s the matter?”

“It’s just… That's kind of the point of all of this, isn't it? We're reduced to holding out for Jahaan to come swinging in and save us. We wouldn't even be here if Sliske wasn't so obsessed with him. Don't give me that look. I feel I have earned at least a little rant. Look, I lost my husband and two sons to the trolls. I have broken every bone in my body fighting those monsters. I've grown old and grey before my time, and for what? Sliske captures a magic stone, the gods return and now nobody cares about monsters killing villagers in Burthorpe. And even if they do, they turn to the 'World Guardian'. Not Major Rancour, who bled and struggled to keep them safe. I caught two guards the other day; both of them were slacking off in their duties. I reprimanded them, and do you know what they said? 'It's fine, Jahaan will take care of any trolls that get through’. I… I almost overreacted. It’s like they think he’s some sort of superhuman now. He’s just a man, no better than me, or you, or any of them.”

Idria considered this for a moment. “Wow. I had no idea you felt this way. I… I’m sorry. But I guess it puts it all in perspective.”

“What?”

Idria turned her gaze towards the Barrows Brothers, who were keeping silent guard around the edges of the chamber. “The way the Barrows Brothers sold out to Sliske all those years ago. Why settle for mediocrity all your life when you can lead a glorious crusade? Imagine how easily you could best the trolls with some of those weapons, or an army of wights?”

Mary Rancour’s half-hearted smile was wry. “Believe me, I’ve thought of it. But the price…”

“...Is never worth it,” Idria finished. With a genuine smile, she said, “It was good speaking to you, Major.”

“You too, Idria.”

By now, Ozan realised he was struggling to keep his words in check. Sliske was capable of bringing the worst out of Jahaan, and it seemed like Ozan suffered similar side effects from the Mahjarrat’s dark presence. Everything Sliske had put his best friend through, the world through… now culminating in the kidnapping of Ariane… Ozan’s mind was full of storm clouds, and he fought with everything he had to stop them from breaking open.

However, he didn’t last much longer, and having taken too long to formulate the right answer to Sliske’s latest question, the penny dropped.

“Come to think of it, where is Jahaan?” Sliske wondered, drawing out his words with a suspicious rattle.

“Uhhh… he’ll be here soon,” Ozan gulped, taking a tentative step backwards, wincing as he accidentally put the wrong amount of weight on his ankle. “What, can’t stand five minutes without him?”

He trailed off with a nervous laugh, but the second the words had come out of his mouth, his throat went dry. He knew he’d cut the wrong wire.

There was a beat of silence that seemed to last for a lifetime, causing the air around them all to turn thick and cloying.

As he cottoned on to Ozan’s plan, his sulphur eyes went wide before narrowing into slits; shadows converged around their master with malicious intent. “Oh you’re good, Ozan. Very good. But I’ve had enough of your stalling. Tell me where Jahaan is, or you’ll live to regret it, however briefly.”

“I’m here Sliske,” Jahaan announced, strolling into the chamber with as much confidence as he could muster.

Jahaan’s timing was impeccable; Ozan let out a shaky breath, trying not to let anyone know just how relieved he was to have the Mahjarrat’s eyes away from him, for now at least. But the relief didn’t last long as soon as he clocked that Jahaan had returned alone and unarmed.

At this rate, Ozan knew he’d have to try something drastic. So, when the Barrows Brothers were summoned to guard himself and the other hostages, Ozan made sure to shuffle next to Karil, who had a pouch of bolts just out of reach. Knowing that obtaining one of them could be a game changer, he waited for the right time to put his nimble fingers to good use.

“Where have you been?” Sliske snapped, before shaking his head and instead saying, “It doesn’t matter. Your lies would only annoy me. You know what? Game over. I've had a good time, and whatever you were planning would ruin that. So congratulations, time for the winner to claim their prize!”

“Enough bullshitting, Sliske,” Jahaan rested his hands on his hips, defiance in his eyes. “Let the hostages go and we can talk about why you really brought me here.”

Raising an eyebrow, Sliske entertained him. “Oh? And why did I really bring you here, hm?”

“I read your notebooks, or journals, or whatever they are,” Jahaan stated, enjoying the flash of indignation in Sliske’s eyes. “When I refused to give you my soul, you decided to take it for yourself. These sick games were a way of making me ‘compatible’. And all of this because some lunatic guessed my name centuries ago…”

Inhaling a sharp breath, Sliske demanded, “How do you know about him?”

With a self-satisfied sneer, one he’d seen on the Mahjarrat too many times, Jahaan replied, “Ego loqui Infernal, vos retorta irrumabo. What’s the matter, Sliske? Not what you were expecting?”

Sliske was too stunned to formulate one of his usual witty replies. No, instead, he looked genuinely shocked, confused… and with a steadily building fury in his eyes.

Moreover, he looked fit to hurt. “You weren’t supposed to read that...”

“Well I have. All of it. So you might as well be honest for once in your miserable life.”

“I was honest with you,” Sliske growled, venom in his fangs. “I told you of my intentions. We had an agreement. You reneged. You could have made this much less painful for yourself.”

“You felt betrayed?” Jahaan let out a sharp laugh, his teeth bared and challenging. “Don’t like the taste of your own medicine, hm? Well, what did you expect me to do? Hand over my soul to you on a silver platter? You’d get an afterlife, but I guess you don’t care where that leaves me. You never cared at all, did you? Oh, you were good at pretending - hell, you… you had me believing - but you were just using me this whole time. So tell me, why didn't you just rip my soul out of me the first chance you got? Why not send me screaming into the abyss?”

Sliske’s fists were shaking now, erratic breathing struggling to be calmed. "To… to even think for a second that-"

The bolt whizzed passed the back of Sliske's head, a good foot away from the target.

Jahaan was just as startled as Sliske, seeing the bolt fly past him too. Only once he saw Guthan and Karil manhandle Ozan to the ground did he realise where the attack had originated. Unfortunately Ozan’s attempt at assassinating the Mahjarrat had failed, his normally perfect aim hindered by his lasting injuries. Nevertheless, Jahaan knew he had to try and make the spontaneous opportunity count. Surging forwards, he whisked the letter opener from his belt, hoping to make it to Sliske before the Mahjarrat realised what was happening.

It all seemed to go so well; Sliske’s interest was on Ozan, his back turned to Jahaan. Even as the man got closer to striking, Sliske didn’t even seem to register his motions.

Until he did.

Jahaan was so close, too close, when Sliske slipped out of the way, using Jahaan’s forward momentum to his disadvantage as he spun around, grabbed Jahaan’s wrist and snapped the blade from his hands, along with snapping the bone in the process. The sickening crunch confirmed as much before the pain even registered. Tossing his hand aside, Sliske then grabbed Jahaan by the throat, lifting him high into the air before launching him thirty, forty, fifty feet across the room. Jahaan crashed into the stone wall behind him with a shattering force, falling to the ground in a heap.

The lights cut out for Jahaan as soon as his head impacted the wall. Begrudgingly, he was pulled awake by Sliske dragging him to his knees by his hair, though at the rate his mind was spinning, he didn’t register the movement, nor the inherent pain that came with it.

It took a punch across his jaw that knocked out a tooth to force him back into focus.

Several more blows landed across his nose, chin and stomach. Sliske was punctuating each jab with words, but Jahaan couldn’t make a single one of them out, struggling to remain lucid among the beating. Until, that is, Sliske held Jahaan by the collar of his shirt and growled, “I told you, World Guardian… actions have consequences.”

Sliske targeted three more precise and fearsome strikes against Jahaan’s previously cracked ribs, easily reigniting the previous damage. Jahaan fell forwards, but Sliske caught him, sharply kneeing him in the stomach before slamming his head back into the wall. He held him there, watching Jahaan’s half-lidded, barely conscious eyes roll into the back of his head. Once he released his grip, Jahaan crumbled lifelessly to the ground.

Finally sated, Sliske walked away.

Idria, Ariane and Mary Rancour watched in horrified, aghast silence as Jahaan fell to the floor. Inside the grasp of the Barrows Brothers that were restraining them, the three were visibly shaking. Mary Rancour’s mouth hung agape, loosely trying to form a call, a cry, anything to try and rouse Jahaan, but it was for nought. In her line of work, she’d seen battle, bruises and brutality, but nothing so… malevolent. Ariane’s eyes darted between Jahaan and Ozan, the latter struggling fruitlessly in the hold of Guthan and Karil, screaming obscenities. His face was a dark shade of crimson, his eyes bloodshot and tone quickly becoming hoarse.

Gulping, Idria’s eyes were locked solely on Jahaan as she mumbled, “By Armadyl, is he still breathing?”

Her question was answered in the form of Jahaan slowly beginning to stir. He moved an arm first, then a leg, slowly regaining life into his limbs. All the while, his head was a pounding mess of screams and colours; with each throb, his vision blurred more and more. Clawing at the ground, he struggled to right himself, attempting to pull himself up to his knees. Instead, his limbs protested agonizingly, buckling under the weight and forcing him back down with a whimper. Roughly, his face scraped against the stone cold floor, his body convulsing as he coughed up blood.

Looking down upon Jahaan, Sliske’s eyes were empty of compassion. “So, you want honesty. Is that right, World Guardian?”

Through the ringing in his ears, Jahaan could barely string his own thoughts together, let alone decipher Sliske’s words. He was too busy trying to remember where he was, and why everything was hurting so damn much.

Sliske’s eyes practically burned with yellow fire, though the face housing them was deathly stoic. “Then here’s the truth for you: I didn’t want to say this, but your soul is damaged goods. It was shattered into a million pieces and barely put back together. You should be grateful that I’m even interested in it.”

Summoning the Staff of Armadyl to his hands, the shadows slithering around the room converged at Sliske’s feet. “But you’ve read my notes. You know why I am. If it’s any consolation, I have grown rather fond of you. I believe the bond we share is greater than that of friends, brothers, or even lovers. If I had to put a label on our relationship, I’d say we’re akin to soulmates.”

Letting out a hollow, mirthless ghost of a laugh, Sliske said, “A fitting term, wouldn’t you agree?”

Motioning towards Guthan and Karil, the two brothers brought Ozan closer to Sliske, forcing the young man to his knees as he groaned in protest, failing to shake off their grasp. Sauntering over, Sliske gazed down in cold amusement as Ozan glared daggers at him. Cupping the man’s chin, Sliske remarked, “A clever one, aren’t you? Yes, you’ll do quite nicely…”

Stepping back to the centre of the expanse, Sliske turned back to Jahaan, who was still curled over on the ground. The corners of his mouth upturned cruelly.

Loudly, so to break through the volcano storming inside Jahaan’s head, Sliske continued, “None of this had to happen, World Guardian. You chose to betray me. I was happy to sacrifice one of my kin for your cause. Had you kept up your end of the bargain, none of your friends would have had to suffer, I would have extracted your soul without such torture, and you could have spent eternity as a youthful wight. But plans have changed…”

Turning with a cruel sneer to Ozan, Sliske was all malice. “I no longer care for your presence, World Guardian. I’ll still have your soul, though. But one of the last things I want you to see before I send you ‘screaming into the abyss’, as you so poetically put it, is another wight to be added to my collection.”

“NO!” Ariane screamed, struggling desperately against the hold of Ahrim, but he easily outpowered her. “DON’T TOUCH HIM!”

But such an outburst only made Sliske laugh, a terrifying, haunting cackle that rattled inside Ariane’s chest. Ozan was wide-eyed and terrified, helpless against the weight of two brothers holding him down, their half-dead claws digging into the burns on his arms.

“S-Stop…”

The ridges of Sliske’s eyes lifted in perverse amusement. “What was that, World Guardian?”

Dragging himself to his knees, Jahaan coughed up another cocktail of bile and blood, trying to orient himself to being upright while the world spun around him. Blinking away the tears in his eyes still left light pulsing through his retinas in crude splotches. Everything was out of focus, Sliske included, but Jahaan managed to lock onto the tall silhouette. Fragments of his memory were returning at a snail’s pace.

“Stop…” Jahaan repeated, clutching his broken ribs, wincing through the pain. He was shivering violently, his head hung low, unable to lift it. “Please... stop…”

Lowering the Staff, Sliske slowly turned around and looked down at Jahaan with the satisfied glint of a predator who had cornered their prey. A stiff slash of a smile stretched across his face, warped like broken glass. “Well, isn’t this a sight to behold. The mighty World Guardian, Gielinor’s brave hero and Guthix’s chosen one… on his knees and begging.”

“You don’t need to hurt him,” Jahaan’s speech was slurred, blood dripping from the gaps in his knocked out teeth, but he managed to stop shivering enough to speak somewhat coherently. “You don’t need his soul. You need mine. I won’t fight anymore. You can make me a wight, you can kill me, I don’t care. Take my soul and let them leave. Please…”

Clenching his fist tightly around the Staff, Sliske’s low voice was ever so slightly wobbly as he said, “You know, Jahaan, I believed you the last time you said that. For all the chances you had to end me, you couldn’t, and I believed you truly didn’t want to see me gone. You accuse ME of only pretending to care, but perhaps you should examine yourself before throwing around such accusations.”

He turned away from Jahaan, a determined resolve acting as his mask. “It’s too late for us now, Jahaan. You’ve… hurt me. And now I’m going to return the favour.”

In the blink of an eye, Sliske reeled back the Staff, then thrust it forward and channeled a spell from it. Blue energy poured from the tip, striking Ozan’s chest. The heaviness of the energy pulled Ozan down like gravity; he felt like he was going to be dragged through the stone underneath him.

“NO!” Ariane cried out, watching in horror as Ozan writhed in pain, attached to Sliske’s beam. Idria and Mary Rancour were paralysed, transfixed by the sheer torturous power on display.

It could only be described as a miraculous bolt of adrenaline, but something gave Jahaan the strength to pull himself to his feet. He propelled towards the light with the desperation of an crazed animal. Everything was just blurs and colours and shapes, but Jahaan ran headfirst regardless, no plan in his mind except for ‘KILL’.

He didn’t make it far enough; while keeping the Staff and his grip on Ozan firm, Sliske shot a powerful bolt of shadow magic behind him. The spell collided with Jahaan at such force that he flew back to where he’d just crawled from, causing the world to go black.

When the beam from the Staff ceased, Ozan fell lifeless to the ground.

After a few beats of horrified, sickening silence, Ozan suddenly began to stir. Slowly, he came to his feet at an almost robot pace. Ariane only allowed herself a mere second of relief before she realised what was happening, and reality sunk in. Ozan marched over to Sliske’s side and turned around, staring through her with hollow, pupilless eyes.

Ariane knew she couldn’t let her emotions, her desperation, her grief control her in that moment. She needed to remain strong. She needed to keep calm and focus.

Ozan wouldn’t want her to break down, not now, when innocent lives were at stake.

They had to escape or this cavern would be their tomb.

Then, miraculously, an idea came to her. Using strength she didn’t know she had, she wrestled one hand free from Ahrim’s grip, disorienting the undead brother with her rapid movements. She reached out for the wand that he kept holstered at his hip, but could only brush the edge with her fingertips. The next thing she knew, she was on the ground, as was Ahrim.

“Ariane, NOW!” Idria shrieked. The Guardian of Armadyl had launched herself and the brother holding her into Ariane, causing all of them to topple to the floor. Fortunately for them, the downside of wights is that, without constant instruction, they were slow on the uptake. Thus, Ariane managed to throw herself towards Ahrim’s wand and snatch it up before she could be subdued.

Knowing she only had one chance, Ariane had to make this spell count. Taking aim at Sliske was far too risky. Instead, she aimed at the rocky ceiling above them and channeled the strongest spell she could. Upon impact, the cavern’s supports crumbled instantly. Rocks crashed to the ground, effectively creating a barricade between them and Sliske. But as she could still hear the Mahjarrat’s booming voice, she knew it wouldn’t be long at all before he broke through.

Now, they had to RUN.

Throughout all of this, Jahaan was slipping effortlessly in and out of consciousness.

So, he didn’t notice when Mary Rancour picked him up and slung him over her shoulder.

He also didn’t notice the four of them charging through the maze of tunnels, praying at every turn they’d find a rope or a ladder to ascend them to the surface.

He didn’t notice when the Barrows Brothers broke through the rocks and stormed after them, nor did he notice Ozan among their ranks.

He did, however, notice when they found a rope ladder leading up towards a trap door, as Mary Rancour accidentally dropped him trying to steady herself on the ladder.

With his head spinning like a throwing disk, he tried to blink the blurriness out of his eyes long enough to go, “W-Whereee am-?”

But the very next second, he was being hauled to his feet, his hands placed onto the ladder as he was furiously instructed to “CLIMB!”

Oh, he tried to protest - his body practically screamed with objection - but the sound of Idria’s pleadings, the sight of Ariane’s fearful eyes, and the way even Mary Rancour looked like she’d seen a ghost she was desperate to outrun triggered some residual survival instinct within Jahaan, and it allowed him to climb the ladder.

When all four made it out, Mary Rancour quickly found a sharp-edged rock to cut the rope ladder behind them, and her and Idria sealed off the trapdoor by heaving a large stone slab on top of it.

Doubled over on the ground with exhaustion, they fought for breath through rasping throats and manic-beating hearts. All except for Jahaan, who didn’t move at all.

“Oh gods,” Ariane leapt over to him. “He keeps slipping out of consciousness. We need to get him to a healer. NOW.”

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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#sliske #kindred spirits

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thesportssoundoff · 5 years

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“Eh. Just a bunch of Eh. Good main though!” UFC Fight Night: Mexico

Joey

September 17th, 2019

The UFC decided to take its model for fight cards in Europe and import it over to Mexico for a bit! I think it speaks to the UFC's level of focus for this card that the third fight on this card is in a division they were going to close with two guys they just signed. This is basically a 3-4 fight card; a tremendous featherweight main event, two really interesting fights on paper featuring two top Mexican fighters AND the return of Brandon Moreno vs top flyweight Askar Askarov. Beyond that? Some action fighters, more WMMA, the return of Bethe Correia and some other stuff. It's not a good card but what's at the top is pretty solid. It's also worth offering them a bit of a mulligan since the headliner was supposed to be Brian Ortega vs the Korean Zombie before something fell apart. Either Ortega balked at the fight at first offering or someone in the UFC realized they need a South Korean headliner for their December Korea card. Either way we got what we got here. It's not great but as my sister says "You get what you get and you don't get upset." I also think it's worth pointing out that this card is basically a glorified gift show as the UFC breaks ground on their new PI in Mexico.

Fights: 12

Debuts: Ariane Carnelossi, Vanessa Melo, Brandon Moreno, Askar Askarov

Fight Changes/Injury Cancellations: 4 (Brian Ortega vs the Korean Zombie CANCELLED/Isatela Nunes OUT, Ariane Carnelossi IN vs Angela Hill/Alex Perez OUT, Tyson Nam IN vs Sergio Pettis/Marion Reneau OUT, Vanessa Melo IN vs Irene Aldana)

Headliners (fighters who have either main evented or co-main evented shows in the UFC): 7 (Yair Rodriguez, Sergio Pettis, Alexa Grasso, Carla Esparza, Brandon Moreno, Bethe Correia, MArcos Mariano)

Fighters On Losing Streaks in the UFC: 7 (Bethe Correia, Vinicius Moreira, Sergio Pettis, Kyle Nelson, Polo Reyes, Stephen Peterson, Jeremy Stephens)

Fighters On Winning Streaks in the UFC:

Main Card Record Since Jan 1st 2017 (in the UFC): 15-18 (The first card of the year with an under .500 record for the main card)

Yair Rodriguez- 2-1 Jeremy Stephens- 3-3 Carla Esparza- 3-3 Alexa Grasso- 2-2 Brandon Moreno- 1-2 Askar Askarov- 0-0 Irene Aldana- 3-2 Vanessa Melo- 0-0 Martin Bravo- 0-2 Stephen Peterson- 1-3

Fights By Weight Class (yearly number here):

Featherweight- 3 (47) Women’s Bantamweight- 2 (17) Women’s Strawweight- 2 (24) Flyweight- 2 (14) Light Heavyweight- 1 (35) Bantamweight- 1 (49) Lightweight- 1 (60)

Middleweight- (32) Heavyweight- (27) Welterweight- (52) Women’s Flyweight- (29) Women’s Featherweight- (7)

2019 Number Tracker

Debuting Fighters (27-49-1)- Vanessa Melo, Ariane Carnelossi, Tyson Nam, Askar Askarov, Brandon Moreno

Short Notice Fighters (25-32)- Vanessa Melo, Tyson Nam, Ariane Carnelossi

Second Fight (49-27)- Marcos Mariano, Carlos Huachin

Cage Corrosion (Fighters who have not fought within a year of the date of the fight) (19-32-1)- Claudio Puelles, Martin Bravo

Undefeated Fighters (31-34-1)- Askar Askarov

Fighters with at least four fights in the UFC with 0 wins over competition still in the organization (11-8)-

Weight Class Jumpers (Fighters competing outside of the weight class of their last fight even if they’re returning BACK to their “normal weight class”) (25-18)- Martin Bravo, Sergio Pettis

Twelve Precarious Ponderings

1- Yair Rodriguez's career since 2017 has taken quite a turn. He started the year dicing up BJ Penn in a showcase fight, got put against Frankie Edgar in what on paper seemed like a mega fight and then had one of the weirdest UFC spats ever. Yair was offered Zabit a few times, Ricardo Lamas once and then referred to a Dana White fight announcement as fake news. Dana cut him and Yair was on the free market for approximately a week or so before Sean Shelby patched things up and cleaned up the mess. Yair repaid the UFC by showing up on two weeks notice to fight the Korean Zombie at high altitude in one of the craziest fights of 2018. Likely down on the cards, Yair hit an upwards elbow that KO'd the Korean Zombie with pretty much the world's greatest buzzer beater KO ever. Yair apparently broke his nose and damaged his lead foot early in that fight which makes it even more amazing that he did what he did. Since then Yair has been pretty much out in nowhere land. He took time off to heal up, was rumored to be fighting in the Summer but instead returns here towards the Fall. He was originally supposed to be the co-main event but when Ortega/Zombie fell through, Yair got the bump up vs Jeremy Stephens. It's worth remembering that Yair Rodriguez is crazy young (JUST 26 years old) and fights in a division where every major prospect gets checked eventually. We've watched a lot of 145 lbers get the business from somebody with more experience or the right kind of style. Even Zabit had a bit of a rough go of it vs Jereemy Stephens. This feels like a high pressure situation for Yair; a dangerous opponent on a losing streak in a market where chaos has tended to abound (I believe Mexican fighters are 0-3 in main event fights in Mexico). A win here says a lot not just about Yair's talent level but about his poise and maturity given where he was in his career at THIS point last year.

2- Does the fact that Yair and Zabit both have enough similarities offensively allow Jeremy Stephens to go into this fight feeling like he's seen the same guy twice in a row? I'd argue Yair's hands are much better than Zabit's but at the same time, Zabit is a far better wrestler than Yair who is more of a squirrely scrambler type. Either way if you're Stephens, the similarities have to make you feel like you've got something of a leg up going into this fight.

3- Would Yair Rodriguez vs Jose Aldo be an appealing fight for both parties if Yair wins vs Jeremy Stephens?

4- In 2015, Dana White took a photo with both Irene Aldana and Alexa Grasso where he deemed both the future of WMMA. It's been a rather tumultuous run for both ladies since that point and while it'd be fair to offer both mulligans; I think calling them busts relative to the expectations would be somewhat fair. For Irene Aldana, she probably just isn't good enough to ever be a challenger or even a contender for Amanda Nunes. After starting her UFC run with two losses (one in a controversial fashion), Aldana rallied with three straight wins including what felt like the final corner turner vs Bethe Correia. She returned to face Rocky Pennington in a big enough fight and while she started strong, she allowed Pennington to pressure her repeatedly en route to a split decision win. The last round was punctuated by Aldana chasing a go nowhere no hope heel hook as Pennington punched away from on top. Even when she had the opportunity to try and get to her feet, she stuck by her guns and eventually it cost her. Aldana's fight IQ and I guess her willingness to fight to her opponent's strengths continues to burn her. She'll get a soft enough touch vs the debuting Vanessa Melo after a bigger fight with Marion Reneau fell through. For Alexa Grasso; her not progressing feels like a serious bummer. Grasso's ultra talented and athletic in a division where talent + athlete usually means progress. Instead a lack of strength and so-so fight IQ (plus some UFC rush jobs) has hurt her. Grasso looked AMAZING vs Karolina K but Karolina may just be broken beyond belief. It's a long way from 2015 where she was the future of WMMA but Grasso has a chance to still make good (somewhat) on that hype. It's a tough call though with Carla Esparza.

5- If you remove the fight vs Randa Markos which felt like Markos just coming out with a proverbial death wish, Carla Esparza's losses are to former champ Joanna Jedrzyjeczyk, future #1 contender Tatiana Suarez and former title contender Claudia Gadelha. A win for Grasso would be massive and would probably set her up nicely for another "prove it" fight, likely against Nina Ansaroff.

6- Without looking them up and just on a run sheet alone, could you tell me anything about any fighter after, say, the fourth fight on this card?

7- TUF LAM has given the UFC some pretty damn good fighters. Names like Teco Quinones, Enrique Barzola, Marlon Vera, Moggly Benitez and the aforementioned Yair Rodriguez. That makes it so disappointing that Martin Bravo has not been successful as of yet because he has the natural tools to be on par with those guys. Bravo came into the UFC off of TUF as a crazy body punching all action fighter. He got KO'd in his non-TUF debut vs Humberto Bandenay (who has since gone 0-3 in the UFC) and then followed that up with a loss in a violent war vs Alex Caceres. Bravo's chin seems to be a serious problem and his lack of anything besides a really good body work game and heart/cardio seems to be holding him back. He'll get the perfect guy if he wants an action fight in Steven "Ocho" Peterson in what has to be a loser leaves town fight for both guys.

8- I don't expect Polo Reyes to find much of a home at 145 lbs but I expect to get a few wild brawls and finishes before he eventually gets cut.

9- Brandon Moreno vs Askar Askarov figures to be an absolute hell of a fight but I wonder how much people are going to care as this 125 lb title dangles dangerously in limbo.

10- I cannot believe Vinicius Moreira is still on the UFC roster. Totally flummoxed and perplexed.

11- Speaking of fighters from 2015 that people had high hopes for, Sergio Pettis has gone from being a potential feature piece at 125 lbs or 135 lbs to scrapping this out on the prelims. Remember when the UFC went to Mexico in 2017, Sergio Pettis was the headliner. Now he's looking to find himself in the UFC after jumping weight classes recently with no success.

12- Sajara Eubanks vs Bethe Correia figures to be a stupendous fight, folks. Well worth your time if you want a wild action fight.

#MMA #UFC #Mexico #Yair Rodriguez #Jeremy Stephens

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fanpov-blog · 5 years

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Pre-Draft NFL 2019-2020 Mock Season

Regular Season

32. Arizona Cardinals 3-13

The Cardinals finished last season at 3-13 as well, and to be honest, I don't see it getting much better quite yet. I do believe the team will draft Kyler Murray at #1 overall, and I also believe that they should. While I think it is the right decision, that doesn't mean I see it translating to more wins. No matter how good Kyler is, or even if Josh Rosen gets another chance this year, there is still just about the same amount of talent as last year and a new coach once again. As a fan of the Cardinals I hope this isn't the case, but this is what seems right to me.

31. Tampa Bay Buccaneers 4-12

Tampa Bay was not good last year aside from the few Fitzmagic games that had the whole NFL world in awe. Their run game is awful, and their best asset was their pass catchers who they lost a couple of this offseason. Jameis Winston hasn't proven to anyone yet that he can be a winning QB, and without a run game, a shaky defense and o-line, and with fewer receivers than last year, I don't see a very promising year unless Bruce Arians has some magic for the city of Tampa Bay.

30. New York Giants 4-12

Odell is gone. Olivier Vernon is gone. Landon Collins is gone. But they still have Eli! Don't get me wrong, Saquon is one of the best players in the entire league, and I love Sterling Shepard and Golden Tate, but on paper the team got worse than it was last year, and last year was already pretty bad. Maybe getting rid of these players will prove to be addition by subtraction, but until they prove that to me and the rest of the world, I don't see much out of the Giants this season.

29. Washington Redskins 4-12

I think most football fans like Case Keenum, but we also know that there usually isn't much success that follows him wherever he goes. He had one great year on a great Minnesota team, but we all saw what he does on an average team, or even a bad team. There just aren't many names that stick out to you on this Redskins team as difference makers or game changers, and Adrian Peterson can't keep up the pace... can he? Whether Case is leading the charge, or a rookie from the draft, the defense doesn't look dominate enough to win games alone, and the team just doesn't have enough offensive weapons to put up points. Disapointing season for the skins, but brighter days could be ahead.

28. Miami Dolphins 5-11

The Dolphins seem to just keep letting their fans down. Year after year they do less than everyone is expecting. Ryan Tannehill was supposed to turn that all around, but we all see how that worked out. But hey, they have some Fitzmagic now! That's gonna be clutch for the first 3 weeks of the season, and for a crazy win against the New England Patriots as usual. They just always seem to do worse than you'd think, and they didn't really get any better, so since many people would expect them to maybe be a .500 team, I'm guessing they'll end up a few games under.

27. Detroit Lions 5-11

Detroit really needs to consider a makeover. There have been a few good years with Matthew Stafford, but those are in the past, and they honestly weren't even that great once it got past the regular season any other year. They need to accept that where they are now isn't going to get them anywhere. Kerryon Johnson was a pleasant surprise last year, but that didn't translate much to the wins column, and Stafford doesn't have as many weapons as he needs to be successful. Seems to me like another down year for the team down in Detroit.

26. Carolina Panthers 5-11

Cam is scaring me. With Newton healthy, you can scratch that 5-11 off and put a 10-6, but without him healthy, a 5-11 might be really generous. Christian McCaffrey really impressed a lot of people last year, and there was a few flashes from young receivers, but other than that, there wasn't much there to make me think that they can function without their superstar QB. They need Cam, plain and simple.

25. Cincinnati Bengals 6-10

There's some great talent on this team, but there is one common issue every year. AJ Green is a great receiver, arguably one of the best in the entire NFL, but he cannot stay healthy. His running mate Tyler Boyd proved he can be one of the best number 2 WRs in the league, and a breakout year from Joe Mixon solidified him as one of the AFCs top backs. All of this, but the man behind center always seems to choke. Sorry Bengals fans, but Andy Dalton is not a franchise QB. I don't care about any statistics about the team with and without him or anything like that, he just doesn't win games and I have no reason to believe that this will end in 2019-2020.

24. Denver Broncos 6-10

The biggest weakness for the Denver Broncos is that they are in a great division. The Chargers and Chiefs are two 12-4 teams from last year, and the Raiders went balls to the wall on offseason moves. I'm afraid Joe Flacco won't be much better than Case Keenum, and with no other notable changes, it's safe to assume they will be right about where they were last year at 6-10.

23. Jacksonville Jaguars 6-10

Aside from late season and post-season heroics on a great team, Nick Foles hasn't proved to be a very good QB in the league in any other situation when he was away from the Eagles. Leonard Founette proved to many that he isn't capable of staying on the field, and the Jags are yet to improve their below average receiving core. Their defense is still great like it was just a couple of years ago, but with their offense forcing them on to the field 2 times as often, they're bound to struggle.

22. Oakland Raiders 6-10

The Raiders have went ALL IN this offseason. Move after move after move and they do look a lot better. Unfortunately for them they are in arguably the best division in football and this is going to thrown away a lot of wins from their record. This is one team that could completely prove my predictions wrong, but a lot of big names going to one team does not always mean great success right away. Also depending on the draft, this could either be very underwhelming or a great success.

21. San Fransisco 49ers 6-10

San Fransisco had it rough last year. They looked like they could be the team to surprise everyone with Jimmy G and Jerrick McKinnon coming into town, but two early injuries took both of them out for the season. Finishing second to last this past season was a disappointment, but there were some positive takeaways. The run game stayed solid with backups in the game, and TE George Kittle had one of the greatest seasons of all time at his position. They picked up Tevin Coleman and he will be paired with McKinnon for a dynamic backfield behind Jimmy Garappolo. This is another team that could blow past my prediction, but having the Rams and Seahawks to compete with will make it tough to have a great comeback season.

20. Buffalo Bills 7-9

Josh Allen honestly had a surprising rookie year. Looking at the stats, nothing stands out that much, but he was on one of the worst teams in the league and was viewed as a raw prospect who would take a few years. Being forced to start early on he led his team to a 6-10 finish, 5 of those wins coming in games he played. His ability running the ball was very surprising, and rookie WR Robert Foster showed flashes of playmaking ability. Now they brought in veteran receivers Cole Beasley and John Brown to help out even more, as well as indestructible RB Frank Gore. All of these pieces surrounding Josh Allen to go with a defense that could be in the top half of the league, this could be another step for the Bills to climb their way to the top of the league in the future.

For the rest, visit fanpointofview.com

#nfl #nfl news #2019 nfl draft #nfl draft #blog #blogger #entrepreneur #sports #sports blog #sports entertainment

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apptg554 · 3 years

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inflammatoryfandomblog · 3 years

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my character is ariane, a moonperson/godlike paladin from the ixamitl plains. i... do not remember anything the character creation screen said about the ixamitl plains, but i know that she is part of this one new-age order whose whole thing is helping the common man.

anyways, she used to be a philosopher who decided to put it into practice. was very gutted when her traveling caravan-thing died, and then when her two new friends died. she showed up in gilded vale to see a big tree where the... lord? of the area hangs soul-wizard people.

animancers. right. animancers. anyways, babies are born without souls in dyrwood, and this has been the case for 15 years or so. (great way to avoid putting children in your game lol.) animancers are trying some ways to fix it, only to have very bad solutions (put animal souls into human vessels), and... uh... ariane is now a "watcher," which means she can see souls. something like that. so far so good.

also, i picked up eder as my new friend. ariane is going to protect her new friends and not let them near weird soul contraptions, because that’s the thing that killed her old new-friends.

now the bad: there's so much exposition-heavy worldbuilding bullshit in characters' dialogues that it's hard to separate signal from noise. this isn't unique to this game, and is like one of the most annoying things about fantasy/sci-fi writing by far. explaining made-up terms i don't understand with other made-up terms i also don't understand.

and it's not like they need to change anything about their lore, just the presentation of it. don't cram every single worldbuilding detail in every single line of dialogue. not only does it make me feel like i'm reading an obtuse encyclopedia, it's also just not how people speak.

i understand why the writers feel the need to do this; they think i'll be confused if i don't have every single detail about the world instantly--but more often than not, it achieves the opposite effect. and speaking of weird filler: i'm so glad that i ran across the loading screen tip explaining that the npcs who do nothing but stand around are backer characters.

#uhh... let's play?????#reactions #me.txt #poe #poe1

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kzbrandt · 3 years

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On an eve of catastrophe, Darkness remains.

Be brave, the words started to fade on my palm, even though the ink rubbed off, my brain still burned, I couldn’t forget these two possibly insignificant conjugations of letters. I still couldn’t believe this was the world I was living in, this was the new reality.

Looking at the abandoned house, I imagined its life before. Who lived here, how did the floor look freshly swept, how did the paint smell with a fresh coat? Underneath the trash was a blue loveseat and a matching recliner, stained and used, they were comfortably worn in. Across a faded white mantlepiece were several dusty pictures of what looked like a happy family. The men were brawny and serious, while the women were thin and leggy, quite a striking lineage. Even the children looked flawless and calm. I envied their happiness, it was untouched and free of carnage.

It was 1935, my family was torn apart, dismembered and discarded. The worst part was we weren’t strangers and our own friends turned us out to the wolves. These wolves wore the faces of men but inside they were anything but human.

After Hitler rose to power in 1933, everything changed so fast. First they omitted us from public life, our faces were no longer desired, especially now that his Arian race had been perfected. Everyone else was being pushed out. My whole life I had been a German, until the day I wasn’t. My true identity was now reflected back and I was Amira Naghrela and my family had been wandering homeless for thousands of years. After the Spanish Expulsion just before the 1500’s, my ancestors were ousted, turned from their homes. Destitute and starving we were barely surviving. Finally in 1910, down to only my father as the sole heir to our legacy, he met my mother in Munich, Germany. On a cold winter’s eve in January, 1921, my father, son of Abram Naghrela would have a daughter.

There were no secrets kept from husband and wife, each knew the other wholly, in every way. For 23 years my name was Ella Lenssen, at the stroke of midnight, suddenly my brown hair turned light yellow and my eyes burned cerulean blue. I was hidden in a sea of likeness, no one would know I bore the mark of the falsely accused, the one who was hated. I still heard her words so clearly. November 9th. It never stopped playing in my head, it blazed too bright and too horrible. As moths flocked to my window, an omen of Darkness began to swell. Fumbling with the six pointed star of David, I grew more nervous by the second. How long until they found me? Those poor people… I couldn’t just sit back and watch when my people were being slaughtered, raped and cleaved apart. I had been silent for long enough.

All through history my people have been persecuted, and that didn’t change on the night of broken glass, we should’ve known the horror Kristallnacht would bring. The Nazi’s have always despised us, just as God loves, the Devil hates. So Lucataerius Diablos invited in a dark stallion to stomp out the chosen ones, and unleash Anti-Semitic propaganda that would flood the earth and her people by storm. Films, pamphlets, and brainwashing scum burrowed effortlessly. Hatred, racism, violence, all of it was a part of Covid-black, a fabricated virus that would disappear until it was time for her final attack, and the second time she refused to be defeated by mere mortals, the dirt under her fingernails.

I had to watch as they ripped off my mother's breasts and shoved them down my fathers throat. On my knees covered in my family's blood, I was convulsing overcome with violent tremors of fear. Locked in abhorrence, I suddenly was very thankful for the well orchestrated lie of my adoption, how my name was slightly skewed from reality. If it was any other way then I wouldn’t have survived this encounter. It was strange how they knew I was adopted, maybe it wasn’t random. Could we have been targeted? Unfortunately, even though I survived the barrel of their guns, I still wasn’t free from the tyranny of men.

Germany’s citizens were disappearing and replaced by perfected soldiers, humans with unnatural abilities. A once great and diverse country now wore the same face, no variation, almost clone-like. Light, yellow hair and sky-blue eyes, although I may look the same it was only a supernatural mask, a key to open the future and rearrange the files.

In 1938, I met the creatures who painted the stars and lived in their castles cloaked in white light hidden in the Andromedan nebula. Their leader came to me in the midst of the mass pillaging and capture of my Jewish kin, and showed me how this would all play out. I could still see all of their deaths, six million Jews and so many others who didn’t fit the bill, German sympathizer or not, no one was safe from the will of Darkness. If she got her way, the realms would be altered in a terrible and irreparable way.

The Andromedan queen was beautiful, she seemed to embody space and its spectacular wonders while retaining a strange physical form. Her wings are what stick to my mind the most. Shimmering in watermelon colors, pink and green were splattered across in intricate blotches. They moved so fast, faster than a hummingbird buzzing in a flock of wildflowers, all of the colors blurred, taking on a singular illusion.

As she spoke her lips moved in the same fashion as her insect like wings, “Amira Naghrela, my name is Pazit, Ascender from the Golden Realms, I’ve chosen you for a great purpose, our cousins the Mothmen see a great torrent that will come swiftly and become one of the deepest crimes that humankind will do unto themselves. You cannot stop what is going to happen, but in the future you may be able to avoid history repeating itself. Will you help us ascend your soul and gift you with my essence?”

I never spoke, but Pazit had my answer. How could I turn down this ethereal angel? The apparition filled me with an intangible contentment. I was going to be recycled, floating around the cosmos of the afterlife, until my vessel was reborn.

I was given the face of the enemy so I might affect the coming days. Now all I had to do was die, and speaking of death I could feel his hot unwelcome breath warming my neck. The time had come, Hitler’s secret group of assassins would be here by now, knowing what I had done and would strike me down for good this time. When I was flung from my body, only then would I be free. I guess all I could hope for was a quick death, but these men were not men of honor, they didn’t know the meaning of the word.

Sinking into a damp, mold infected corner, footsteps vibrated across the floor, echoing like a tribal drum beating my heart. Tears fell down my cheeks as I dreaded what would transpire. I wasn’t at all surprised at the smug grin that appeared above me.

“Well, well, well now I have found you… Amira.” He snared my name like it was a curse passing out of his lips. So they knew, the ruse was up, but after what I did, I knew this charade would cease. I knew my expiration date had come, now at least it wouldn’t be for nothing, I’ll have a second chance. Maybe in my next life I'll find more than enslavement and mass decimation.

“Ready to play our game some more?”

“No, just kill me, I have no desire for your sick fantasies!” Thwack. Hot, searing pain slapped my right cheek, forcing me to look away.

“You little bitch, did you think no one would see you? Mein master is very displeased with you, setting fire to her laboratories, good thing the original specimen is still intact…” Wrestling with my crouched body, he pulled me up and called out to his shadowy goddess, the one whom he served.

Darkness animated through the rotting wood floor, seeping upward like an impenetrable smog, smelling of thick demoniac (crux of demons). The mother of evil had arrived. Rising out of a cesspool of umbra, red irises tore into my temples, knocking me down onto my knees once more. So this was the true hand behind the madness, the one who haunted my dreams.

Vile, stinging talons reached out from the malevolent cloud and what I assumed to be her mouth opened unnaturally wide and she attempted to suck out my soul. During this unpleasant encounter, I saw brief flashes of her mind, and a shrouded veil from within was revealed to me.

Deep inside the chasm of Darkness, I could see two young girls, one was like sunshine and the other was cloaked in ravens and starlight. A multitude of memories were joined together making it nearly impossible to understand anything.

Taking a breath and trying to focus the images, I could see someone else among the children, a long slinky man, who’s flesh looked inhuman, stretched too tightly like a costume. As if I cut a nerve too closely, The Darkness threw me across the room as a banshee scream pierced the empty house shattering all the windows, and the soldier all at once. Blood and guts exploded everywhere coloring each surface in chunky crimson.

“It is not possible to resist me, what are you? Your gifts shall be mine, one way or another.”

Quickly looking down I glanced at a reflective dagger lying not two feet from me. Adrenaline dilating, I thought about two words that I now realized were anything but meaningless. BE BRAVE. Grasping the cool metal, I readied my mind, body and soul. Closing my eyes, my short life flitted by, seeing only the ones most precious to me.

Only 15 years old, too young to get the chance to fall in love or travel the seven seas. There were so many places I still hoped, I might see one day, whenever that might be. Without wasting a second more, I took the blade and ripped open my neck exposing my clavicle, and draining my life force. Most blood was a bright, cherry red, but my own poured out in a gleaming golden frenzy. I wasn’t the only one taken aback either.

Who knew I could be so alert during my own death, I could still feel everything around me. I figured when the lights went out it was only darkness, but it was so much more. As the sounds of everyday life faded I heard the faintest cry of infuriation, a howl mixed with pain and vengeance. I didn’t know how I felt about this enfant terrible, was it calamity that drove it, what was her story?

It would be 120 years before my body would be birthed once more. But time was so different in The Vale, there are no words in creation that can quite describe it. And just like that, risen from the ashes I became small and tumescent, breathing underwater. What was this strange sensation? I was light as a feather while bobbing along like a booey in the middle of the ocean. The walls started to shrink, contracting more and more.

Of course, it all made sense now. A big push forced me down the birthing canal and I felt squished and kind of claustrophobic. With each propulsion my destiny was schlepped closer. Just as I was about to breach the world, I could hear the doctor say excitedly,

“Oh look Persephone, your little Krista is just about here! Just one more push! Mrs. Star, what beautiful eyes she has, none like I’ve ever seen…

So it began.

#kz #brandt #fantasy #writing #the #gathering #darkness

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theswiftarmy · 4 years

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POST #25 – Mr. Whittington’s Cat, I Presume?

“Stay here.”

“Billie, where are you going?” Justin Bieber called after her.

“Just stay here! Finneas and I will enter over there—” She pointed to a blocked off road lined with security guards and official looking individuals in event staff shirts, “We have to let them take our photos on the red carpet. Wait, Justin, why am I telling YOU this, you know the red carpet deal, don’t make me say the word…”

“What word, you mean duh?”

“Duh! Yes.”

“Oh yeah. Yeah, I know the red carpet deal.” He nodded.

The group nodded back, they all knew the deal. Justin Bieber, Oak Felder, Pop Wansel, Scott Borchetta, Kanye West, Carl Lyle the lawyer (who’s last name is also coincidentally Lawyer), and Kymmie (The Teen Arianator and aspiring social media influencer) stood in a hiding spot near the chaotic crimson carpet. Kymmie knew the deal not because she had gone through it before like the others, but because she had consumed so much media, both social and anti-social, that she knew way more than your average teenager could possibly know about the red carpet without so much as even stepping foot on it. She imagined the bottom of her feet, one day, taking those very first steps onto the carpet. That magic carpet ride. That crimson carpet. Oh, how she longed to be part of that crimson carpet club (as she had decidedly named it inside her head). Oh how she longed to join those select few individuals around the world as a member of the exclusive red carpet club. How many people in the world had walked on the red carpet? Percentage wise? It was a VERY exclusive club indeed. So many people in the world, yet so few belonged to that Hollywood elite. Oh how she dreamed one day that would be her. She would make it happen, and she wouldn’t stop until she did. She could see it, just across the way, so close, yet so far away. All she knew was, she would get there one day. She thought, it must be the most amazing experience ever! The lawyer of course had been on what he called ‘red carpet duty’ on numerous occasions, because it was his job to be there. It reminded him of being a Resident Assistant back in his college days, but for Hollywood stars instead of his fellow university classmates. He found it to be the most boring of tasks he’d ever been assigned. But when you work for The Whales of Hollywood you get assigned various overt and covert tasks of which you are required to complete. Mostly it was boring legal stuff, like babysitting an uncooperative client to make sure they don’t say anything stupid to the press, just one whisper to their ear, was usually all it took, just a few words, very specific words. He was told what to say by someone else, who told that person to say it, and someone told that person and so on and so forth… a whole whisper down the lane game. It was entirely possible that Kymmie and the lawyer would cross paths one day on the red carpet in a completely different interaction.

“I’ll call you, Justin, don’t go anywhere until you get my call. Okay?” Billie nodded at Justin after saying okay.

Justin nodded back. Then, everyone else nodded at his nod at Billie Eilish. There was a hierarchy of nods, just like the hierarchy of whispers. Our entire world is one hierarchy after another—hierarchy of hierarchies.

She took a deep breath and turned to face her brother. “You ready?”

Finneas smiled a crooked smile. “Oh yeah. I was born ready—”

Billie made a face and shook her head no.

Finneas reacted, “Yeah, that was kind of cheesy, wasn’t it? I won’t say that again.”

She changed her ‘no’ headshake to a ‘yes’ head bob.

The group watched as Billie and Finneas made their way through the madness towards the red carpet, it didn’t take long before the first photographer recognized Billie and her brother, and the cameras turned their way, like weapons turning on a new target. Paparazzi have that sixth sense ability to spot a celebrity before anyone else does. Although, they do work for The Whales of Hollywood, so maybe it’s not a sixth sense, maybe it’s just what they are paid to do. If you don’t want The Whale (or the rest of his pod) sending the paparazzi after you all you have to do is walk down the red carpet exactly as you’re told, or you just might find a camera lurking on your next vacation or… while you’re sitting in your backyard trying to enjoy some time alone. The Whales have ways to make any photo say whatever they want it to say so that YOU say whatever THEY want you to say… Be a good celebrity and do as your told… Well… That was the old hierarchy/patriarchy/monarchy… Some say there’s talk of a new ‘archy’ in town… A Swiftarchy.

“OH MY GOD, that’s Taylor Swift’s cat!” Kymmie shouted breaking the silence.

“No it’s not. And shhhhhhh. Keep quiet.” Scott scolded her.

“Yeah it is! I’m gonna go take a picture of it.” She started to creep towards it.

Carl stepped in her way. “No you’re not. You’re staying right here where Billie told us to stay.”

“Whatever, you can’t stop me. I’m only going to go take a picture and then I’ll be right back.” She weaved around Carl.

“Yeah Carl, chill, yo.” Kanye said. “We’ve got time before we got to go… Let her take a pho-to!”

“Sweet rhyme bro.” Justin fist bumped Kanye.

“Yeah you know how I flow.”

“How about this for a rhyme… No! She needs to stay with us. Everyone just stay here.” The lawyer demanded and then turned to follow her.

Scott called after here in a whisper yell. “Kymmie! Come back here.” He then also started to follow—he followed the lawyer, following Kymmie. There’s a new hierarchy of following now, obviously.

Kymmie neared the cat and knelt close to the ground, she turned around, “You guys it really is Taylor’s cat!”

“This is a trick.” Scott said under his breath to the lawyer as he followed close behind Carl.

The cat meowed and then turned and walked further away. Kymmie followed it immediately.

“Kymmie, stop following the cat and come back here.” The lawyer spoke with a voice of authority.

“You’re not the boss of me! And anyway, I just need to take a picture!” She followed the cat around a corner.

The lawyer called after her. “You don’t need to take a picture. You need to come back with us to the hiding spot so we can stick to the plan.”

Scott looked back and saw that the rest were beginning to follow. “What are you doing? Go back!” He whisper yelled at them and flailed his arm around in the air. They ran across the street catching up with Scott. He quickly gave up and waited for everyone before continuing on. The group rounded the corner to see the lawyer who was following Kymmie who was following the cat, about fifty feet ahead of them.

Just then a person in an orange vest also rounded a corner in the distance opposite to the one they had just rounded. The person wearing the orange vest stopped in the distance looking the other direction appearing to be talking to someone just around the bend, everyone froze. About a hundred feet down the street from the group, nearest to the guard, Kymmie froze in her tracks after looking up from the cat to see a bright orange vest directly in front of her, she looked back at the lawyer and then back to the cat sitting comfortably on the ground then to the lawyer again. The security guard’s radio blurted out something about additional crowd control needed to keep some Taylor Swift fans back. The Swiftness with which her Swifties had suddenly multiplied caught the entire event security team off guard. The guard ran back in the opposite direction without so much as noticing Kymmie or any of the others, just a short distance away. Kymmie let out a sigh of relief and the others did the same.

Scott shifted his stance nervously, and then spoke to the group standing behind him like Shaggy talking to the rest of his spooky mystery solving friends. “Jeepers! That was a close call. Like, you guys… I think we really need to all get back to the hiding spot. What do you think Scooby? I mean, Scooter.” He held up his phone with Scooter on the other end of the call, he pressed a button to put Scooter on speakerphone. Due to a lot of background noise it was hard to tell what Scooter was trying to say, but it sounded a lot like Scooter said… ‘Ruh roh’. “See guys, even Scooter thinks this is a bad idea… Zoinks!” He ended the call and put the phone back in his pocket.

The truth of it all was that, Scott happened to be the only one who really knew what was at stake here, he’d already solved the mystery long ago which was why he brought Scooby, sorry, I mean Scooter in on things, but that just seemed to have added more chaos. After what Billie Eilish said to him, he realized it might not matter who’s hands the power to make the ultimate viral song of all time fell into, someone was going to figure it out eventually and then it would spread across the globe to every earlobe on the planet as soon as that artist finally did figure it out. He knew that no matter what it could possibly infect everyone on the entire planet if it wasn’t stopped, and sure maybe Billie was right, maybe anyone could be the true bad guy. Maybe any of them, given the chance, would make the song that would become the only song anyone would sing ever again, the entire world locked in a musical virus infected and stuck together globally forever in one singularity of song. But he had to take a chance and side with someone, and Shaggy and Scooby, sorry Scott and Scooter, just made sense. If you can’t figure out whose side anyone is on, how do you fight? How do you know you’re fighting the right fight? The only thing he knew for sure was that if that song were to be created and unleashed upon the world, it would forever change the way everyone lived. It would disrupt the entire planet, all of humanity. The musical virus would transmit from person to person without so much of a hope of anyone ever stopping it. Music is already quite contagious even without the secret chord… But with that secret Leonard Cohen chord? The music world and anything that relied on it would grind to a halt, and for all he knew, everything else would too… coffee shops, bars and pubs, everywhere around the world, anywhere a show could be played—all of it stopped. All concerts, festivals, pro sports games, Broadway shows even! Everything stops, the music just stops. It would in-fact include anywhere there’s music and people gathering together, even birthday parties where they might sing the Happy Birthday song, or weddings, anywhere anyone gathered in groups and music could be heard, would be done... Award shows just like this… Movie theaters around the world, Hollywood and The Whales… All of it would be shutdown. Roll up the red carpet and put it in storage. Shut it all down.

And you say, well that would never happen! COACHELLA CANCLED? IMPOSSIBLE! Scott Borchetta used to think the same thing, but he knew it not only could now, it will happen… It was only a matter of time until it did. Coachella, with it’s roots dating all the way back to the seventies London punk scene, the anarchy of the eighties and Goldenvoice giving a voice to so many musicians… Would be stopped in its tracks by a newarchy, the song to end all other songs.

“Scott, just chill, Billie has my number, she promised me she wouldn’t lose it! I was like, Billie, Billie don’t lose my number! And she was like, I won’t. I promise.”

Scott ground his teeth. “Fine. Okay everyone, like, let’s not split up, we just, we NEED to stay together. Come on, we need to catch up to them.” They hurried along the side of the building to catch up with Carl Lyle the lawyer, and, with Kymmie and the cat. About ten feet ahead of Carl, with her phone raised ready to snap a photo, Kymmie followed the frisky feline. She stalked the cat slowly as it strolled along strutting its stuff.

Just then the cat stopped in front of what looked like a stage door, the kind you would see just outside a Broadway show, where fans gather after shows for autographs from their favorite cast member, the door was wide open. The cat looked back and meowed.

“Awwwww, it’s sooo cute!” Kymmie held out her phone and steadied the shot. She spoke to the cat. “Okay Taylor’s cat… STAY STILL! I just need to snap a photo…” Before Kymmie could take the photo the cat disappeared through the door. “WHYYYYYYY!?!?!?! Oh no, no no no, I’m not giving up that easy, I’m going to get this photo of you!” Kymmie hovered just at the edge of the door.

“Oh no, no no, YOU are NOT going in THERE.” Carl slid between her and the door.

“Yes, I am. I need to get this photo!” She argued putting a hand on her waist.

Scott pointed at the door. “No, this isn’t right, there shouldn’t be a door just wide open, especially a stage door.”

“But this is the theater! This door leads into the theater! Maybe this is where we want to be anyway? We’ll find Billie inside and everything will work out, AFTER I get my photo of Taylor Swift’s cat. Look, it even says STAGE DOOR right above the door on that sign!”

Scott shook his head, “That’s a handwritten sign! Or, hand painted? Hang on a minute, I know that handwriting, that’s Taylor’s handwriting and the paint on the sign still looks wet.” A little bit of paint was running from one of the letters dripping down a few inches, “There wouldn’t just be a hand painted sign. Still wet, I might add.”

“How do you know it’s Taylor’s handwriting?” The Arianator questioned.

“Because, I know her handwriting, I Just do. And the sign aside there’s something else off about all of this. No, this is just not right, there should be security—no one would just leave a door wide open. It’s just so out of place. ESPECIALLY a stage door.”

“Well, maybe the streets are blocked off and no one else is allowed back here. Did you consider that Mr. Hot Shot Scott?” Kymmie was determined to win this door debate.

“Then we wouldn’t be standing here!” He argued back.

“Maybe they blocked it off after we got through? We saw that one person in the orange vest with the radio, you know—”

“No, NO, there’s something not right about this. I agree with Scott.” The lawyer crossed his arms and stood in front of the door like a bouncer. “No one is going in there.”

Justin walked over to stand beside Kymmie and peered in the doorway trying to get a glimpse of the cat. “So, if that IS Taylor Swift’s cat, why would it just be walking around outside?”

“Maybe she brings her cats to every performance and lets them walk around before the show.” The Arianator said shrugging. “Maybe the cat just wanted to go for a walk outside.”

“I highly doubt that.” The lawyer said shaking his head.

“Well, I’m going to follow it.”

“No. You can’t go in there.” The lawyer shook his head again.

“I need to! I need a photo! If I don’t take a photo no one is going to believe me. SO, outta the way!” She disappeared through the door after dashing around the lawyer. He reached out throwing his arms in her direction but caught only air.

“Okay, everyone, we’re just going to have to follow her.” The lawyer decreed turning to enter the doorway.

“What?” Scott was taken by surprise. “I think in the best interest of everyone else here we should just stay—“

“Just follower her!” He barked, and stepped through the door.

“I don’t know about anyone else but I get the feeling this is a really bad idea, and I just wanted to say I think this just might be the worst idea of all time… Of all time.” Kanye said from the back of the group.

“It is.” Scott said in an ominous tone. “I’m pretty sure I know exactly where this is going.”

“Yeah, but it’s actually a little bit fun, in a way… You know?” Justin cracked his knuckles. “It’s like we’re entering some sort of carnival funhouse. Life on the edge, Taylor Swift style, I say bring on the funhouse mirrors!”

A spellbound maker of broken hearted lovers.

The hallway was dark at first until their eyes began to adjust. “What’s that?” One of them said, “A candy bar wrapper?” Another suggested. It was not a candy bar wrapper, it was the silhouette of the cat that could still be spotted as it trotted, no, gallivanted down a lengthy hallway and in through another doorway at the very end. The walls were painted all black with very dim lighting—black light to be exact—the telltale glow of random objects and pieces of clothing made for a fun distraction from the current distraction of their original task, a funhouse indeed, Swiftie style. They followed Kymmie into an area that resembled some sort of unused dressing room, various props were strewn about: Strange hats and clothing, odds and ends. There were mirrors along the walls with old fashioned looking light bulbs along the edge of every mirror. Each mirror was outlined in lavishly painted gold wooden frames. The mirrors were makeup mirrors, most likely from backstage Broadway. It’s possible they were replicas, but they appeared to be genuinely vintage. The cat sat on a chair in front of one of the mirrors, the chair appeared to be antique looking and also genuinely vintage. The only light in the room came from the menagerie glowing glass makeup mirror bulbs.

Kymmie the teen Arianator turned back to the others and held her finger to her lips… “Shhhhhhh.” She said softly. “I need silence, I don’t want to scare the cat.”

She crept up on the cat slowly, steadying her phone to snap a picture. “This is going to look soooo cool with this lighting.” She whispered.

She took the photo and as soon a she did, the cat shifted slightly then paused. She took another photo. Then the cat moved again and paused once more.

“Umm… Is anyone else seeing this?” She asked in a normal voice. The cat was obviously not scared.

Oak stepped forward towards the cat. “The cat is posing. It looks like it’s posing for the photos!”

“It is.” Scott commented from a corner of the room, “It’s doing exactly what Taylor does when she’s on the red carpet being photographed.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” Pop added. “Weird. Very weird.”

Kymmie kept snapping pictures and the cat kept changing poses to mimic Taylor’s red carpet looks. “So weird. But also kind of cool because, I mean, you don’t see a cat posing for photos every day. Do you think Taylor taught her cat how to pose like that?”

“I bet she did. I feel like that’s something she would do.” Justin replied.

After several poses the cat jumped off the chair.

Kymmie swiped through the photos and picked her favorites, then uploaded them in a post.

“Oooo I’ve already got hearts! I literally just posted this!”

“What? You posted them?” Scott stepped towards Kymmie’s phone to see. His voice contained a slight sense of urgency.

“Yeah, what did you think I was going to do? That’s the point of taking a picture, so you can post it online. Why would you take a picture that no one is going to immediately look at and put hearts on it and write comments about?”

“Well, it’s about deciding and taking the time to decide who you want the photo to be shown to… You know, when I was your age, we had to wait to get pictures developed, or you could get them turned into slides to show them on a projector provided you had a projector and a screen and an audience to show them to…”

“Yeah yeah yeah…” Kymmie waved him away.

“Yeah, get the times pops.” Justin said.

“Me?” Pop Wansel asked.

“Not YOU Pop, I mean Scotty B too hottie over here. Slides… Photos developed, waiting for things? Talk about dating yourself, dude. No one has done that for, like, decades. Everything’s instant now, like popcorn. You know the only reason we’re in this mess is because of that Elvis Porter Easter Egg sound you found on tape. TAPE! Old technology got us in this mess in the first place.”

Pop interjected some of his wisdom into the situation. “Well, there’s going to be messes no matter what technology you use. Old or new, the mess will always exist. Mess just finds a way no matter what the technology of the day happens to be. That’s the human flaw. We think we’ll be happier if we fix things. If I could just fix this, or get beyond this current mess, or problem, or conundrum, all will be well. But it’s not true, there’s always going to be problems, so happiness and contentment is in finding piece with the moment no matter what the situation is currently. Sometimes you learn from the current situation to make a better decision that leads to a better outcome in the future. And while it’s good to work towards making things better, no doubt, sometimes you have to accept some things the way they are in the moment, because not every problem can be fixed.”

“Like accepting that I posted the cat photos!” Kymmie said making a face at Scott.

“You need to take the post down.” Scott said with slight fear in his voice.

“What? No! Look at all these hearts I’m getting! This is going to be trending in NO time. And I will be famous. Hello red carpet, here I come!”

“You know, the carpet isn’t always redder on the other side.” The lawyer commented his perspective and a warning to Kymmie that maybe everything she is seeking isn’t waiting at the end of a red carpet rainbow. Maybe it is, but maybe it isn’t.

“Taylor’s going to see it! Her team of Swifties are Taylurking right now.” Scott shouted.

“No they’re not, she’s busy getting ready for the show or whatever… Oooo I just got a comment! WHOA. Oh my god it’s from Emma Watson! WHAT? Whoaaaaaaa. No way! She said… ‘I see you found the cat. That’s Mr. Whittington’s Cat – xx Emma.’ Weird.” Kymmie looked up from her phone, “Mr. Whittington’s cat? No it’s not, it’s Taylor’s cat. It’s Taylor Swift’s cat. Who’s Mr. Whittington? What is she even talking about? Why is Emma Watson commenting on my post? What does she mean by I see you found the cat? I’m going to comment back and ask her how she can tell it’s not Taylor’s cat. Because this is TOTALLY Taylor’s cat.”

Kymmie commented and Emma immediately commented back.

“Wow, that was fast, how did she comment back so fast? Okay, she said, you can tell by the cat collar, look at the collar, it says London Gold on the collar. London Gold? Oh yeah, it does say London Gold. I wonder what that means…. London Gold… This is soooo crazy right now. WHOA I’m getting more comments!”

“DELETE. THE. POST. NOW!” Scott reached for the phone but Kymmie turned in the opposite direction, classic basketball move. Scott caught an armful of air.

“What, why? No. Emma Watson commented on it! I’m not going to delete it. She’s a very high profile celebrity! You obviously don’t know about the importance of reputation in the influencer game. I’m going to ask her what London Gold means.”

She commented the question and, again, Emma immediately commented back, the comment was so quick it was as if she were simply thinking the comment instead of actually typing it out.

“She said, read the story of Dick Whittington’s cat. Who’s Dick Whittington? What’s so special about his cat? Also, how did she write that reply so fast, no one can possibly type that fast! Ooooo, she included a link, it says, ‘click on this link’. Should I click on the link?”

“NO! Don’t CLICK ON THAT!” Scott shouted at her. He reached out again for the phone but Kymmie was too quick. She ducked, dribbled, passed the phone to Justin, and he passed it back to her.

“Delete it, or give me the phone.” The lawyer said sternly.

“No.” Kymmie argued back. She tossed the phone back and forth to Justin, Kanye, Oak, and Pop as Scott and the Lawyer attempted to snatch the phone trying to catch it midair.

“Give me the phone or delete the post. You have ten seconds.” The lawyer began counting down from ten, like a parent not putting up with anymore from a child, “Ten, nine, eight…”

The phone landed back in Kymmie’s hands, “Fine! Ugh. I’ll delete it, let me just screen cap it first as proof for my friends… Wait this is weird… It won’t let me even click on any options to screen cap. It’s like my phone is stuck on this post. I can’t do anything. Let me try to get to the menu… It’s not letting me do anything now! Here, look, I’m even trying to delete it, nothing is working.”

“What?!” Scott said in a worried voice.

“It says this post is now managed by AlisonThirteen. Who’s AlisonThirteen? Only AlisonThirteen or a moderator from her team may modify or delete the post.”

“Oh no.” Scott said, his eyes wide with fear.

“What? Why did you say oh no?” Kymmie said looking up from her phone.

“Never mind. There’s nothing we can do about it now.” Scott looked around the room seemingly searching for something, ‘but what am I looking for’, he thought to himself.

“Well, since I can’t delete it I’m going to comment back, it seems to still let me click on the comment box. This is Taylor’s cat, not some Mr. Whittington’s cat. Are you sure I shouldn’t just click on the link Emma sent? I mean isn’t that what links are for? Someone sends you a link, you just click, I mean, right? Like, links have to be clicked! You can’t not click on the link, you have to click it! Don’t think, just click!”

“DO NOT CLICK ON ANY LINKS!” The lawyer and Scott shouted at the same time.

“Okay fine, calm down. I won’t click on it. I’ll just ask Emma to tell me who Mr. Whittington is.”

“Technically you’re tapping on it, since you’re using your finger, clicking would indicate you have a mouse. Anyway, speaking of mice, maybe the cat is both? Maybe it’s Taylor’s cat and Mr. Whittington’s cat. That is to say, if Taylor adopted it, perhaps it was someone else’s cat before it was hers.” Everyone acknowledged Oak Felder’s wisdom.

“Well, but, that would make it Schrodinger’s cat.” The lawyer added.

“Or, given our history, maybe she catnapped it.” Justin offered, still annoyed about what the Swifties did to Sushi and Tuna.

“Whose cat? I’m confused.” The Arianator said after typing out a quick comment.

“It’s a thought experiment where the cat can be two things at the same time. Taylor’s cat and Mr. Whittington’s cat.”

“I don’t get it.” She replied.

“It’s like that song by One Direction.” Oak began. “She’s beautiful because she doesn’t know she’s beautiful and that’s what makes her beautiful. But since he’s telling her she’s beautiful in the song, she now knows she’s beautiful. So, can she still be beautiful, even though she now knows it, since not knowing she’s beautiful is what makes her beautiful? In telling her that she’s beautiful, wouldn’t that change the statement because the state of her not knowing she is beautiful is what makes her beautiful.”

“Is there going to be an exam after this? I feel like I should be taking notes.” Justin asked.

“This is confusing.” Kymmie replied.

“Or, maybe it’s the perspective of the person looking at the cat?” Oak continued, “It appears to be different depending on who looks at it. Maybe it’s like looking in the mirror, unless you knew it was a mirror, and you had never seen an image of yourself so as to know what you look like, how would you know it’s a reflection? The mirror would be the cat, but depending on who looks at the cat, that changes which cat is seen.”

“Wait… That’s strange…” Kymmie said looking at the picture on her phone. “Sorry, Oak, I’m listening to you, but also, I’m not.”

“What’s strange?” Scott asked, his voice now more urgent sounding, a concerned tone.

“There’s something weird about this picture. I can’t quite figure it out though.” She stared at the phone.

“Let me see the photos….” Scott walked over to her and put on a pair of glasses, then inspected the photos closely. “You’re taking these photos directly in front of the mirror, but I don’t see you in the mirror… We need to get out of here. This is a trap!” His face looked as if he has seen a ghost.

“But, how does that work? It’s so fascinating.” She walked over to the mirror and stood in front of it. She could clearly see her reflection. She pulled out her phone to take a mirror selfie but remember the phone was locked to the post. “Someone give me your phone!” Justin tossed his phone to her. She caught it and snapped a selfie. “Weird. I’m not in the photo. It’s just the mirror reflecting the wall behind me.” She tossed the phone back to Justin. Everyone else gathered around his phone to look at the photo. The teen moved closer to the mirror. She looked at her self and thought who else had stood before this very same mirror. She fixed her hair. How many others had fixed their hair while they looked at their reflection, their impurities, imperfectness—made perfect with makeup for the stage. A peculiar thought popped into her head and she wondered the same thing about a song; if listening to a song were like looking in a mirror, or hearing into a mirror, how many others had also listened to that same song, any song. Felt the same feelings. Each and every song had a list of those who heard the song, and some lists for some songs included nearly everyone on the planet, while others just a select few. There were undoubtedly songs that nearly everyone in the world had heard at one point another. But, even with the same song everyone’s experience of that song is different. Everyone has different memories, emotional responses, to some the song can mean one thing, and to another, something completely different, Taylor Swift’s cat or Mr. Whittington’s cat. It’s the same cat, but we all view it differently. But what if there were a way for everyone to feel the same way when listening to a song. If you remove the reflection from the mirror, isn’t it the same experience for anyone who looks into it? If we can’t see ourselves, we all see the same thing, right?

Conceivably the whole world could be connected together by a hand full of songs. Wouldn’t it be such a strange sensation to somehow be able to connect with anyone who has ever listened to the same song as you? Or what if such a song existed that everyone had listened to at least once, or even the entire world continued to listen to on repeat, a song connecting the entire human population together, as one. Seeing everyone in the world, or rather hearing everyone as one mirror—an audio mirror. But, what would an audio mirror look like, or sound like, or be like?

There’s feedback, when a microphone is pointed at a speaker, or a guitar is placed directly in front of an amp, but is that it? It can’t be. Feedback sounds terrible. But, looking into a mirror is… captivating. It would have to be like looking into a mirror. Seeing one’s own reflection, but in the song. Can one listen into a recording the way they can look into a mirror? But instead of seeing you, it’s everyone; or maybe it’s blank, because a blank space has the potential to be anyone in that mirror. But isn’t the possibility of reflection, at least, for sound, the absence of sound? In which case, wouldn’t a sound mirror be… Shared silence?

If it’s not silence then how would a mirror for the ears even work? Would it be like knowing you shared that song with others just as you can imagine others have looked in the same mirror as you? She thought about how a song, could have the power to make you feel less imperfect, the right song could lift you up and make you feel amazing, just as makeup can conceal imperfections, make you feel a higher level of beautiful. Music, in a way, is like makeup for your mind, and heart and soul… but it’s more than that, it has the power to make you feel an entire range of emotions. Music can change your entire state of being on the inside and no one on the outside would ever know you changed. It didn’t just cover something up like makeup did; it had the power to make you feel beautiful from the inside out. To truly connect with a song either alone, with another person, or with the whole world, music could make you feel something that words can’t really describe. And hearing the right song? It changes you, sometimes, forever.

Suddenly the lights flickered. They stayed for a moment in their dimly lit state before shutting off entirely. A glowing silhouetted image of Taylor could be seen in the mirrors for only a second before fading away as the lights flickered back on. Her song Style played. Maybe it was Style, the duration of the clip was extremely short, so short that it was impossible to really tell if they had actually heard anything at all or just imagined it. It was just a tiny bit of Style, just enough style, a small amount of Style. The sound entered their ear drums and into their brains… No time to put on special Swiftie sound canceling headphones, no time to cover their ears.... They were quite possibly Swifted, ever so Swiftly, and yet ever so slightly, just a tiny little bit of Swiftie in their minds… We never go out of style… We never go out of Style…

Each of Taylor’s exes flashed in the makeup mirrors, as though they were trapped behind the mirrors, handwritten lyrics could be seen below each one of Taylor’s exes, their portrait glowed in the mirror, trapped behind the lyrics.

“Poor souls, trapped forever in the lyrics of songs… Taylor Swift, the spellbound maker of broken hearted lovers…” Scott spoke quietly to himself, seemingly un-phased, as though he knew this day would eventually come, like he knew for years. Scott knew the power of trapping someone in a song for all eternity, any good songwriter knew the power, and Taylor did too, she knew what it did, she knew it better than anyone, after all, her first hit song was named Tim McGraw… Write a song about someone and they are forever trapped in that song, and the more popular it becomes, the more trapped that person becomes. Taylor was one of the best in the business; she could spin a song spell quite well, much better than most. The spellbound maker of broken hearted lovers, she got rich and famous singing songs of wonder… Now we’re all under her spell.

They say you fight fire with fire, or in this case, an interruption with a distraction, and as everyone knows cats make the best distractions

“Okay this is kind of creeping me out a little.” Justin admitted after the lights flicked back on full.

“What was that you said about how it’s like a fun house…” Kanye poked fun at The Biebs.

“Yeah, Ye, but, that was before any of this flickering lights and the man in the mirror stuff happened!”

“Yeah, I’m done with this cat, let’s go back! Kymmie ran to the door that lead to the hallway and pushed against it, “The door… It’s locked from the other side! I don’t even remember there being a door here before! I just remember we were in the hallway of black lights, and my shoelaces were glowing and then we walked in here, I know there was an open doorway but I don’t remember a door, and maybe it’s because I was paying too much attention to my glowing shoelaces, and the cat of course… Did anyone else remember a door? Did anyone else hear it close?” She franticly shoved her body against the door trying to open it.

“You need to calm down.” A voice said.

“Okay, who said that… Because it didn’t sound like any of us.” Kymmie backed away from the door, almost in tears, officially freaked the heck out. “I’m officially freaked the heck out!”

“It wasn’t any of us...” Scott said in an eerie ‘this is the end for us’ type of voice.

“There’s probably a speaker somewhere in the room and Taylor is just trying to messing with us by making it seem like the sound came from within the room. EVERYONE, it’s okay, I have cats, I can handle this.” Justin put his hands out and walked over to the cat. “Okay cat… Unlock the door!” Justin crouched in order to look the cat in the eyes. The cat stared back for a few seconds.

“You know I have a name. It’s Tom. My name is Tom. Not… ‘Okay cat’.” The cat said in a very royal British accent.

Justin stood up and backed away. “Did anyone else just hear the cat talk, or was that just me?”

“Oh yes, yes, I believe the cat definitely just talked. That was the cat talking is what that was. Yes, that’s, uhhhh, that’s a, ummm, what do you call it, it’s uh… a talking cat. Yes, I believe, that’s uhhh, what that is.” Scott said in his Jeff Goldblum voice.

“Holy crap, Taylor’s cat just talked!” Kymmie yelled out, “Holy crap the cat just talked. Taylor Swift’s cat just talked, you guys, TAYLOR SWIFT’S CAT JUST TALKED!!! What is going on here? OH MY GOD, you guys, what the actual flipping heck is happening right now. TAYLOR’S CAT TALKED!”

“Yeah, we heard you the first time. How many times are you going to say that?” Justin said to Kymmie.

“Well, I’m sorry, JUSTIN, I’m kinda freaking out!” Kymmie started to freak out fully. “This is not real, I’m dreaming this right now, this is a dream and then I’m going to wake up and it’s not going to be real. Cats don’t talk in real life.” Her voice quivered with fear as the words escaped her mouth.

“Love,” The cat said still in a royal but now nonchalant British accent, “I do say, love, in the words of my very lovely owner, you really need to calm down.”

“Whaaaaaa… Oh my gosh. OH MY GOSH! Calm down? I’m talking to Taylor Swift’s cat! How am I supposed to calm down? I just said that to a cat. Oh my gosh… OH MY GOSH!!! I just replied to a cat. I’m talking to Taylor Swift’s cat!”

“Could you be a dear, love, and tell Emma I said hello.”

“Umm, what? You’re telling me to comment back to tell Emma Watson that you say hello?” Suddenly her fear floated away, and she felt peaceful, filled with love and complete calm. Her fear changed to immediate curiosity. “Okay. I mean, sure.” She said to the cat. “Should I do it?” She asked the room.

“I say go for it.” The Biebs said also in a mellow tone. “Why do I suddenly feel so relaxed? This cat just seems so chill. Like, he’s such a cool cat. Cool cat… cooool… caaaat.”

“Why does the cat have a British accent?” Kymmie asked.

“I don’ know, why?” Justin answered.

“It’s not a joke. I’m asking.” Kymmie replied.

“Oh… Doesn’t Taylor take her cats over to England?” Justin suggested as a possible explanation.

“Cat’s can’t get accents… CAT’S CANT TALK!” Kymmie replied.

“Well apparently this one does.” Justin replied back.

“No! This is a trick.” Scott struggled to shout. “Don’t... talk… to it…” His shouting melted away as he struggled to maintain intensity in his voice. “No.” He tried to fight the relaxing mellow feeling hitting his mind. Had he been Swifted? He wondered. He felt like that moment right after you wake up from a dream. Reality seemed foggy.

“I mean, it is a talking cat. How can we not talk to it?” Oak Felder offered, he too now slightly subdued. “I think Justin is right, I feel so… tranquil.”

“We can’t talk to it… Because, like, we have… Uh… Ummm… something else we are supposed to be doing. We neeeeeeeeed to contact… Billie.” Scott reaffirmed. He motioned with his hands to Kanye. His hand eye coordination felt slightly off. He felt like everything was in slow motion.

“Like, but it’s a talking cat. Maaaaaaan.” The Ariantor tried to argue back but she continued to feel more mellow, and free, and full of love. “We’ve got plenty of time anyway. Time is slooooooooooooooow right now. And I’m sure Billie will call Justin when she can’t find us.”

“Yeah.” He checked his phone. “See, Mr. Scott B… no missed calls. And full bars on my service. And look how big the screen is right now.” The screen appeared to Justin to be the size of a TV screen. Everyone else saw the screen of his phone appear to grow right before their eyes.

“Whoaaaaaaaaa…” They all said in unison.

“Well… Okay.” Scott replied convinced as he possibly could muster in his catatonic like state. He looked at Carl who looked at his watch then gave a concerned look back which eventually melted away to just a shrug of the shoulders.

“So, your name is Tom?” Oak Felder inquired of the cat.

“Yes. Ground control to Major Tom. Tom here!” The cat was peppy and spoke in a perfectly upbeat voice, a bit on the cheeky side though. Everyone honed in on the voice unable to pay attention to anything else but the cat.

The Arianator made a face like she was thinking very hard. “None of Taylor’s cats are named Tom. So, you can’t be Taylor’s cat then.”

“Ah, but you are undoubtedly misinformed.”

“How so?” Oak asked further, curious.

“Was I not adopted? Could I not have two names? Could I not have an identify from a previous owner? Or, maybe even a previous life!”

“Well… Yeah, I guess.” Oak replied. Everyone else nodded in agreement.

Scott broke free for a moment from his mellow state, “Everyone, stop talking to the cat! He wants you to pay attention to him.” Scott tried to intervene; he knew what the cat was up to. He tried to shake off his euphoric Swiftie feeling, that feeling that he had just woken up from a dream but was still dreaming. Shake it off, he thought, shake it off… Oh no… Taylor’s lyrics were just too infectious. Shake it off… Shake it off…

Justin stepped forward. “But, I have to know now, I have to know everything about this talking cat. Plus, Scotty too hottie, just trust me, yo, Billie Eilish will call when she needs us all. I just have a funny feeling she will, that’s all.”

“Nice rhyme bro.” Kanye fist bumped Justin.

“Thanks.” Justin gave his ‘cool’ look back that he often uses in a lot of photos. The ‘I’m Justin Bieber level of cool because I am Justin Bieber’ look. You know the look.

“I HAVE TO KNOW TOO!” The Arianator said. “I’m soooo curious. I can’t explain it, like… I’m soooo curious to know. I have to know. I want to know, I NEED to know. Look at the cat! He’s sooooo cute.”

“Haven’t you ever heard the tale of Dick Whittington and his cat?” The cat said his British accent, very royal sounding. Like he could have been a cat for the Queen of England herself. Except that the Queen of England has dogs… Doesn’t she? I think so, yes, she does, I just looked it up. She may have a cat, but I can’t find any search results that prove that.

“Ummm…” The Arianator scratched her head. Justin also thought for a moment.

“Oh no.” Scott said in a quiet voice.

“What?” The lawyer said back.

“This IS a trap. Taylor IS trapping us.” He looked around the room, not sure what he was looking for, mostly out of desperation for a solution, or a clue, anything.

“How do you know for sure?” The lawyer said quietly to Scott.

“I just… know. This is her.”

The teen held up her phone. “Emma Watson just commented back, she said it’s definitely Dick Whittington’s cat. Also she said, ‘Tell Tom I said hello, xx -E’.” She looked at the cat. “You talk to Emma Watson?”

“Yes.” The cat replied.

“Do you talk to Taylor Swift too?” She asked.

“Not like I chat with Emma, no, Taylor just knows my routine already, so there’s no need for human words. She just knows me, as I am her cat. We have an unspoken agreement.”

Kymmie thought for a moment. “That makes sense… I think. Wait… Why do you talk to Emma Watson?”

“Well, it’s a long story but… have you ever heard of the ten days of silence?”

“I think so, yeah. Is that where you go somewhere and don’t speak for ten days? You just sit there and meditate?”

“Close enough. You see…” The cat walked about the room as he spoke, “she’s one of the few individuals in the world who have successfully completed the ten days of silence. When you spend ten days in silence you… Well, some individuals, anyway, with a certain predisposition to ‘clairvoyant abilities’ start to experience alternative forms of worldly communication. Your brain starts to seek out other ways to connect to other living beings.”

“But how?” The Arianator asked, eager to know more. Everyone else’s attention was fixated on the cat. Everyone was eager to know more about Emma Watson’s predisposition to ‘clairvoyant abilities’. They were completely forgetting they had somewhere else to be… at least for now. But, that was the point, wasn’t it? Welcome to the game show called The Cat Always Wins… Staring Tom Whittington Swift, Taylor Swift, and a guest appearance by Emma Watson, and of course, our lovely contestants… Can they win against the cat or will the cat win again? Find out, on The Cat Always Wins! Spoiler alert, the cat always wins!

EDITOR: If the cat always wins, why would anyone watch that?

WRITER: Because, it’s a cat! Also, it’s not a question of if the cat always wins, it’s a question of HOW the cat always wins! It’s like how you know the good girl is always going to defeat the bad guy, but you watch it anyway to find out how!

EDITOR: Producer?

PRODUCER: Executive producer?

EXECUTIVE PRODUCER: I’ll allow it. Continue the story.

PRODUCER: Management likes it. Allowed.

EDITOR: Okay, continue the story.

WRITER: Thanks, I will. I’m glad I have a whole team of people who aren’t directly involved in creating this content telling me what I can and cannot write.

EDITOR, PRODUCER, EXECUTIVE PRODUCER: That’s what we’re here for!

EXECUTIVE PRODUCER: I just pitched the show “The Cat Always Wins” to my bosses… The owners of everything. They like it! Hurry up and finish this so we can start working on The Cat Always Wins.

WRITER: It’s not a real show!

EXECUTIVE PRODUCER: Well it won’t ever be with an attitude like that! Let’s make it happen! Think like the cat, because, remember, The Cat Always Wins! We already bought the rights!

WRITER: So this is what it must be like to no longer have control of something you created. To be at the whim of this creation that now controls your life. Welcome to a new spin on the Taylor Swift’s Masters Ownership Story… The Cat Always Wins.

“Yeah. How is that even possible?” Justin inquired of the cat, eager to know more about Emma Watson’s predisposition to ‘clairvoyant abilities’. Everyone was eager to know more about Emma Watson’s predisposition to ‘clairvoyant abilities’.

“Well… It works just like any other form of communication. What do you do when you need to talk to someone who isn’t nearby?”

“Umm…” Justin scratched his head, pondering the question. He felt groggy. The Swiftie Style spell had clouded his thinking.

“You catcall them!” The cat smiled. They sat with blank faces. “Okay, so, that was a joke, do any of you have a sense of humor? You guys feline okay? What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” More blank faces. “Wow, tough crowd in here.”

“I think I’m watching a cat trying to do stand up. What is life right now?” The teen started to laugh, sort or, it was an ‘almost’ laugh. A bit of a ‘Ha… Ha…’

“If you need to speak to someone and they aren’t in the room, you call them on your cell phone. Right? Pick up the phone and call them! You seek out an alternative form of communication! Like how you’re waiting for a phone call from your friend Billie. Right Justin?”

“Ohhhhh.” Everyone nodded.

“So, she can talk to cats after doing the ten days of silence thing? Like someone would pick up a phone and call someone? Although, who does THAT anymore, just message me.”

“I know right?” Everyone agreed. Well, everyone but Scott.

“I still talk on the phone.” Scott said.

“Don’t make me say it.” Justin said back.

“Say what?” Scott asked.

“Get with the times pops!”

“I get the New York Times delivered digitally to my phone, does that count?” Scott stated.

“Well, that’s a start.” Justin replied approvingly.

“YOU GUYS! Let the cat tell us more about Emma Watson’s predisposition to ‘clairvoyant abilities’!” Kymmie said in a strong voice, she was trying to yell but it came out as a half whisper.

“Sorry. Go on cat.” Justin pointed to the cat.

“Where was I? Oh, yes, well, she can do a lot more than just talk to cats. Emma Watson’s powers of communications are unlike anyone else you’ve ever met she has the ability to communicate beyond—“

“WAIT, hang on, who is Dick Whittington?” Kymmie interrupted. Just then her phone began to buzz and make noises like an arcade game or pinball machine, “WHOA, there are more celebrities commenting on this post! Florence Pugh just commented too! You are quite the popular cat, you know that? At least with famous British actresses it seems. Do you talk to Florence too?” Kymmie asked.

“Well, I have been known to draw a crowd or two. Especially in and around London.” The cat smiled confidently then purred slightly. “To answer your question, no, I don’t chat with Florence, only Emma. Ten days of silence, remember? Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, the story of Dick Whittington. Well, it goes as follows, a cat named Tom, made a fellow named Mr. Whittington wealthy because the cat had the ability to chase off rats.”

“But, aren’t YOU Mr. Whittington’s cat?” The lawyer cross-examined the cat suspiciously. “Or are you Taylor’s Cat?”

“Mmmmm hmmm.” The cat replied.

“Well which is it?” The lawyer leaned in. “State who’s cat you are for the jury!”

“Hold on… When did this story take place?” Justin asked, “Because I’m looking it up on my phone here and the story seems a lot older than you look.” He held the giant phone up for everyone to see, and pulled out a laser pointer to emphasize his point, a presentation for all those present, just as one would make in a class or business meeting. The cat resisted the urge to chase the red laser.

“Ah, but perhaps, I have many lives. Nine? Or perhaps, I live longer than most cats. I could be an old soul, Mr. Whittington’s cat, in a new body, Taylor Swift’s cat.”

“Mmm hmmmm… Well, Mr. Whittington’s cat, if you are who you say you are, shouldn’t you be chasing rats then?” The lawyer grabbed the laser pointer out of Justin Bieber’s hand and aimed it on the floor. The cat pawed at it a few times then stopped himself, not giving in to the lawyer’s tricks.

“Chasing away rats is what I do best.” He said with a smirk, then snickered. Two other snickers could be heard from elsewhere. The snickers of two other cats—creeping somewhere in the shadows.

“Okay, well, Mr. Whittington’s cat, shouldn’t you be chasing rats RIGHT NOW then?” The lawyer counter argued.

“I am.” Mr. Whittington’s cat replied. The two unseen cats snickered again.

“What?” Justin said, taken aback by Scott’s facial reaction to what the cat had just said. Everyone stared at Scott. It was as though all the blood had drained entirely from Scott’s face, he looked woozy.

Scott let out a gasp, “Oh no… We’re the rats!” He exclaimed in a quiet voice.

The cat sprawled out on the floor holding his paws up turning his head to look at everyone upside down, a distractingly cute pose, “Uh, what I mean to say is, did you know that Emma Watson is going to be the next Queen of England?”

“No she’s not.” Kymmie argued back.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… Stop trying to change the subject there, Tom!” Scott walked over to face the cat.

“I am doing no such thing, I am simply stating a fact. And given that YOU still haven’t told Emma I said hello, I think that I have the floor! Additionally, considering that I have four appendages and you all only have two, that counts doubly for me.”

“THAT DOESN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE!” Scott huffed. “That’s not how it works, you’re a cat you have four feet! Also, none of your paws are on the floor right now, they’re all up in the air and you’re waiving them around like you just don’t care! You don’t have the floor at all!”

“Well, it’s a metaphorical floor… Or metafloorical if you will… Ohhhh, zing… Thanks, I’ll be here all night!” The other two mystery cats snickered, “And so will you…” Thomas Whittington Swift said in a quiet voice.

“Stop trying to distract us, I want to go back to what you said before… Hang on, what do you mean by, and so will you, I HEARD that…” Scott stared at the cat dubiously.

“What was I saying before? Oh yes, about Emma Watson being the next Queen of England, I agree, we should discuss that!”

“No, that’s not what I was referring to… “ Scott replied pointing his index finger at the cat.

WRITER: Oh that’s too perfect, we’re gonna “yes and” that meme reference, let’s run with that bit…

We see Kymmie rush over to Scott’s side. And, we see, a plate of food sitting on a table appear in front of the cat. And the cat is now sitting behind the table with the plate of food on the table in front of the cat. Scott points at the cat with an upset look on his face and Kymmie stands beside Scott. She has an upset look on her face too. They’re both yelling at the cat.

And continue scene…

“No hold on, Tom, you know it’s just not possible for Emma to be the next Queen of England. She’s not in the royal family.” Oak pointed out that very important detail that would stop Emma from ever becoming Queen of England.

“Give me one reason why Emma wouldn’t make a good Queen of England?” The cat questioned his court.

Everyone stood silent, unable to come up with an objection to the statement. “The cat makes a good point.” Kymmie said.

“I don’t have an counterargument against that exact suggestion.” Oak stated.

“Emma is IN like a gin and tonic at a dancehall.” The cat said springing to his feet and tossing the plate of food off the table, he jumped up onto the table and walked around like he was on the floor of congress, or parliament—or on the table of congress or parliament because he’s on a table.

“That doesn’t make sense. We’re not saying she wouldn’t make a good Queen, we’re just saying you know there are other people in the royal family, right? There are so many people in line to be next, and Emma Watson is NOT one of those people! Obviously, if she were, according to the governing law, in line for the throne, she would surely be fit for Queen of England. I’m sure not a single person would object.” The lawyer joined the Emma Watson for Queen of England debate and argued his talking point.

“But perhaps she could be an honorary member of the family. Or, maybe, she secretly IS next in line…” The cat purred, satisfied with his debate performance.

“The cat is lying to us!” Scott finally managed to break free from the Style spell and fully wake from the relaxed state… “Everyone we’re getting off topic here! We’re letting the cat distract us from what we need to do!”

The cat spoke swiftly, “Why would I lie? I have no reason to lie. I was just lying down, yes, but that’s a different kind of lie. Lie, lay… Lying.” More snickering from the two mystery cats hidden in the shadows.

“No, no, no, everyone, quiet!” Kymmie yelled. “I’m going to win this argument. I’m asking her right now on this comment post if she is part of the royal family.” The teen typed on her phone.

“Tell her I said hello too!” The casual cat slid the comment in very smoothly.

Kymmie stopped typing. “Wait, if you and Emma can talk through your minds, or whatever, why am passing notes back and forth between the two of you like we’re in grade school! Can’t you just say hello to each other through your minds?” She asked.

“Oh, sure, we’re talking right now. We just think it’s fun.” The cat said with a smile. “Haven’t you ever messaged someone from your phone who was sitting in the same room as you.”

“Oh yeah. I guess that make sense.” Kymmie said, she’d totally done that. Sometimes you’re sitting there watching TV or a movie and you want to hear the show, but also want to talk to your friend. Or if there’s another friend in the room and you want to say something to one of your friends about the other friend… Kymmie eyed the cat suspiciously. They’re talking about us, she thought.

“This is ridiculous, we’re fighting with Taylor Swift’s cat!” Scott tried to convince the others.

“Mr. Whittington’s cat.” Justin corrected him.

“WHATEVER! We need to focus. We’re arguing with a cat!” Scott knew that time was running out.

“But it’s a talking cat.” Justin argued still under that small amount of Swiftie Spell and it’s anyone’s guess how it was interacting with his Selena earworm. So far there didn’t seem to be any side effects, but one never knows when you start combining song spells and earworms together. It’s a dangerous concoction.

“I’m commenting to Emma right now.” Kymmie said waving away Scott’s sass.

“Well she’s not going to tell you. It’s highly secret you know. Only a few know. And I’m one of those few.” Mr. Whittington Swift Cat said with a cunning smile.

“This cat is messing with us—”

“Taylor Swift’s cat—” The teen corrected Scott.

“Mr. Whittington’s cat—“ Oak corrected Kymmie.

“Emma Watson’s cat?” The lawyer offered.

“Schrodinger’s cat.” Pop proclaimed.

“Cat Steven’s cat.” Justin added.

“Cat Steven’s cat?” Kanye questioned.

“I thought we were playing one of those imrov comedy games where you name the object, and you substitute different names, I’m sure there’s an official improv comedy name for this kind of scene work, I’m drawing a blank right now. I’m not a regular improviser… sooo… Just go with it. Yes and.” Justin shrugged. “Cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon, little boy blue and the man in the moon, ‘when you coming home, dad?’ ‘I don't know when’, but we'll get together then, you know we'll have a good time then…”

Never combine earworms and song spells, it may make the person lose their mind. Of course, the effect is only temporary.

“—WHOEVER’S CAT THIS IS, it’s messing with our minds!” Scott shouted.

“Now why would I do such a thing as to mess with you? Did you ask Emma Watson about her royal status yet?” The cat sat resting his chin on his paw.

“Yes, she said to ask you. Also she said ‘hello’ back. Also, also, Emma suggested naming you Kit Cat.” Kymmie read the comment aloud.

“Give me a break.” Scott put his palm to his face, which was something you used to be able to do back in the day before the great virus circled the world and face palming became a thing of the past because no one was allowed to touch one’s face anymore.

EDITOR: Yeah, that’s realistic. No one is allowed to touch their face? Man you come up with the weirdest stuff.

WRITER: Oh you just wait, it’s gonna get way weirder. I’m just getting started. It’s a game of musical chairs and the game doesn’t end until there’s a winner.

EDITOR: You’re so weird.

WRITER: THIS IS WHAT WRITERS DO WHEN THEY ARE STUCK IN QUARANTINE. Don’t leave your house. If you leave your house, you might hear the song, and if you hear the song, you will NEVER get it out of your head, you become one of them! DANCE MONKEY DANCE!

EDITOR: What if I’ve already heard the song?

WRITER: It’s too late… Just dance. Just sing. Just sing, and dance… The only way out is a more addictive song and the cycle begins again until you hear an even more addictive song, and that cycle goes until you hear the song that you can NEVER get out of your head. Unless, someone write’s an antidote song… Dance… Monkey… Dance… Australian sound, Australian crosswalk sound… Billie Eiliish… Taylor Swift… Music is infected, soundtracks are infected, laugh tracks are infected, Foley artist created sounds in films are infected… Ten days of silence, shhhh listen, can you hear it? Emma Watson will save the world with silence!

EDITOR: What do you mean by Emma Watson will save the world with silence?

WRITER: Shhhhhhhhhh… Listen to the silence… of no one talking… Just writing and reading… Shhhhh… Just sit there and try to listen to Emma Watson’s thoughts, as she reads her books.

EDITOR: How am I supposed to hear Emma Watson’s thoughts? That’s impossible. No one can hear her thoughts except her. I’d just be siting here silent listening to nothing.

WRITER: That’s the point. Sit quietly and listen, until you can hear Emma Watson’s thoughts in your head.

EDITOR: So you just want me to sit there while you write?

WRITER: Yep. Oh, just a warning, make sure you don’t accidentally think her thoughts as your own, just listen to them.

EDITOR: Okay fine, whatever, I will sit here and try to read Emma Watson’s mind, or listen to her thoughts, or whatever, while you write. And since we all know it’s impossible to hear someone’s thoughts, I’ll just sit here quietly. So you could just say that instead of trying to be all mysteriously cool trying to convince me there’s a way to read people’s minds or that Emma Watson is some come of chosen oracle that will one day save the world.

WRITER: Thank you.

EDITOR: Wait, what do you mean think her thoughts as my own?

WRITER: Shhhhhhhh… Don’t think… Just listen… Be in the present… Let Emma Watson be your thought guide…

EDITOR: *Rolls eyes*

“Okay, we’re not playing games anymore. Or, at least the name the cat game.” The lawyer responded in a flat tone of voice.

“Awwwwww.” The cat purred in response to Emma’s hello back to him. “So, it is.”

“It is what?” Scott demanded.

“It is time for us to go to London!” The cat announced.

“London? We have somewhere else to be! Why do we want to go to London?”

“Why, my friend Scott… To find out, of course! We must find out the answer to the Emma Watson question! Is she going to be the next Queen of England? Her Grace, Ms. Emma Watson of Windsor Castle! HER MAJESTY Emma Charlotte Duerre Watson of Buckingham Palace!” The cat held a paw up in the air pointing the way.

Just as the cat tossed a paw into the air the lights went out again, and then in each of the mirrors they could see the flicker of faces appear and disappear. Each face glowed for a moment, then faded away. One of the faces, Scott was positive, was Elvis, Elvis himself. He made out a few of the others, he was positive Tom Petty was there, along with Prince. Janis Joplin, even! David Bowie. Whitney Houston. Wow. They all flashed so fast that it was impossible to recognize more than a small number. The only commonality was that they were iconic musicians no longer living among us. Each one of the faces, perhaps coincidentally (and perhaps not), had a corresponding trust managed by The Whale himself. Personally appointed by way of a signed retroactive power of appointment that gave The Whale sole trustee guardianship. The signatures of course, were not exactly on the line for any of the legally binding documents, but that minor detail didn’t seem to matter to the notary public, the witness of each signed document, or the reviewing judge who denied any and all appeals with prejudice. The objector, respondent, and petitioner were all informed of the trust’s fate by certified mail. The Hollywood Whales sent a representative from each of their pods to pick up the individual trust packets personally. As was customary of The Whales of Hollywood.

When the lights came back on, a previously shut door on the opposite side of the room, had opened. The cat stood at the edge of that door.

A sign in Taylor Swift’s handwriting read “To The Stage Door” but it was crossed out, and under it was written “To London”.

“You can’t give up now! Onwards to London!” The cat shouted.

The lawyer pulled Scott aside and spoke to him. “London? We don’t want to go to—”

“Just follow him.” Scott said in a sour tone. “We’re not actually going to London, there’s no possible way that’s a doorway to London. We’re in LA! I’m sure it just leads further into the building, there has to be a way. We’re dealing with a cat, it’s not like we’re up against a whole army of Taylor Swift’s Swifties, The Swift Army. it’s a cat, Carl. I’m sure we can figure this out.”

They could hear noise, very low, it sounded like idle chatter, people filling into an open auditorium. Guests were taking their seats for the 2019 American Music Awards.

“Oh no. It’s starting soon!” The lawyer announced.

“We have no choice. We have to go!” Scott commanded.

“Just uh, timeout for a second, you do realize you’re trusting a cat on which way to go right?” Oak asked, just confirming the current situation.

“Well we don’t exactly have any other options right now do we?!” Scott said.

“You dirty rat.” The cat suddenly belted out.

“Are you saying that to us?” Scott asked the cat.

“I just like saying that.” The cat smiled.

“Well can you say something else?” Scott replied.

“Say hello to my little friend.” He said, as another cat appeared in the doorway.

“WHOA, it’s another one of Taylor’s cats!” The Arianator pulled out her camera to take another photo, but remembered her phone was locked.

“And say hello to my other little friend.” The second snickering cat appeared on the other side of the cat named Thomas Whittington Swift Schrodinger.

“Do they talk too?” She asked.

“No.” The cats snickered. “They just snicker.”

“You dirty rat…”

“Okay, can you seriously stop saying that, can you just stop saying that.” Scott was very annoyed, now slightly agitated.

“Sorry.” The cat said back. “It’s just a force of habit, you know, after all, I’m always looking for rats!”

“Let me try to handle this again.” Justin stepped towards the cats, “Okay cat stop talking right now.” Justin said, trying his tactic from earlier.

The cat meowed. The two cats snickered.

“See, he’s not talking anymore.” Justin said. “I’m the cat whisperer!”

The cat meowed again.

“Stop meowing.” Scott was beyond annoyed.

The cat purred loudly.

“Stop making sounds of any kind!” Scott shouted. “Let’s just go. At this point I don’t even care where you’re taking us.”

Taylor Swift’s cats smiled and turned to lead the way. Welcome, my friends, to the series premier of The Cat Always Wins.

@taylorswift

#TaylorSwift #TheCatAlwaysWins #EmmaWatsonSavesTheWorldWithSilence #TaylorSwiftForQueenOfAmerica #EmmaWatsonForQueenOfEngland #MrWhittingtonsCatIPresume #LondonGold #TheCatsFoundTheRats #EmmaWatson #TenDaysOfSilence #LetEmmaBeYourThoughtGuide #WhatWouldEmmaWatsonThink #ShhhhhListenToTheSilence #CanYouHearIt

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weeniitze · 4 years

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Online Fandom

Fandom is the abbreviation variant for "fanatics" (Jekins, 2016). The term "fandom" has first used in news reports of sporting events of the late 19th century to identify followers in events. According to Hutchins, T.J. & Tindall (2016), one way to keep fans involved is to build online fan groups through social media, providing a platform for people to connect their interests online with each other, even in different locations.

youtube

“ Are Fandoms Good or Unhealthy Obsessions? “

Video URL: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=onxeBOnjWnU)

When fans become part of the community, fans in the fan community gain a sense of identity and a "style" by sharing a unique set of concepts, symbols, meanings, and values of their idols (Lee Cooper, 2014). Many pop artist's fandoms have their own exclusive names. For example, Lady Gaga fans call themselves Little Monsters, and Katy Perry fans are Katy Cats. The corresponding names of other stars and fan groups, as well as The Killers- The Victims, Charli XCX-Charli's Angels, Nicki Minaj-Barbies, Rihanna-Rihanna Navy, Ariana Grande-Arianators, Demi Lovato-Lovatics, etc. These fan group names are more than just a symbol, they are an identity. Some of them think the community is more powerful than ordinary music fans.

“Most people are fans of something” (Gray, Sandvoss & Harrington, 2007)

If someone asked you “Are you a fan of someone/something?”, what would you answer? Will you honestly tell them about your fandom? Or you will just deny that you are a fan and keep silence?

Some people might think that the fans are ‘weird’, ‘lunatic’, ‘toxic’, ‘disgusting’, and even some of the people will despise them. As most of us know, many fans will express their strong emotions on social media such as the star's Facebook or Twitter, or even offline events, arguing with people and even causing a fight. Of course, the more extreme star-pursuing cases have actually happened among fans.

That is why some people might afraid to admit that they are fans of someone/something, this is to protect themselves to be judged by others. From my observation, some people who don’t want to admit that they are a fan is also because they might afraid of the cultural crush, I use music as an example, there are so many kinds of music such as K-pop, J-pop, Chinese, and Occident music, they are from different countries and cultures. Some of them might choose to hide their online identity in real life, which some of them might prefer to stay alone in real life, but actually an active user in his/her fandom.

This video shows some screenshot of negative comments in the K-pop girl band, Blackpink’s fandom (No offense to Blackpink fans, I am not a hater, this is just for an example.)

youtube

“BLACKPINK HAS THE WORST FANDOM EVER | BLINKS “

Video URL: https://youtu.be/zxYByCOg6D0

For me, I will answer honestly tell and talk about my fandom with my own circles. I think this can be a kind of topic to share interest and fan culture, it can also improve the relationship and connectivity among each other when we are sharing something we like to another. If you ask me about which fandom I am, I will say a lot, because I like lots of things and people and I do not belong to just one fandom. For TV Shows, I am fans of Superhero movies and TV Shows such as The Flash, Arrow, Justice League, Spiderman, Thor, Doctor Strange, Chinese dramas such as The Untamed, Ashes of Love, Scarlet Heart, Japanese Dramas like Enu no Tame ni, Death Note, Unnatural, etc. Besides, I also like to play games and watch cartoons, Anime, and Comics. I even have a lot of idols in the online world from different platforms such as Tumblr, Instagram, YouTube, and Twitter. That is why I don’t really tell people I am a fan because there are too many things that I like, I will have to spend a lots of time to talk about it. Some people might not think that they are a fan because they are not obsessed with a thing and don’t really know as much thing about their idol as their fandom does, in my opinion, I think a fan can be someone who really likes something and want to know more about it.

Sometimes from a movie or TV show, I found someone that I interested to, then I will find more about that person online including his/her online account (if they have), I even read fanfiction of the characters that I obsessed to.

Fan culture, or fandom, is a term used to describe societies built around the mutual interest of elements of popular culture, such as books, films, TV shows, artists, sports or sports teams, etc. In fan cultures, these masterpieces and artistic expressions bring the form of fan fiction, fan art, cosplay, fan videos, filk songs, and other interactions with a group, individual, or fictional universe ("Fandom and Participatory Culture – Subcultures and Sociology", n.d.). Through social media, I also gain a lot of knowledge and made friends from interested circles online. I am thankful for the internet to bring us together and share so much information online so we can know more about them through these platforms. Of course, It also brings a lot of benefits to my real life such as I’m having more topics to talk about with my real-life friends, I can know more about different country’s culture, I gain a lot of inspiration for my works, and can even improve my drawing and storytelling skills.

Even though sometimes people might not understand why we like such things, but luckily we still can find someone who has the same interest online through our fandom, we know that we are not alone, and there is someone who likes the same thing as you do. We cannot control people’s mind, if there is someone who likes it, there must be someone opposite, what we can do is ignore the negative issues, and learn more positive knowledge from what we like, we don’t have to be shame on what we like and what we are. By worshiping an idol, fans developed a 'varied creativity space' and gain inspiration from it, growing self-confidence, this is also a positive attitude, as long as fans haven't done something evil and immoral, a fandom might bring peace and a lot of advantages to someone.

Reference List

Duffett, M. (2013). Understanding fandom: An introduction to the study of media fan culture. Bloomsbury Publishing USA.

Gray, J., Sandvoss, C., & Harrington, C. L. (Eds.). (2017). Fandom: Identities and communities in a mediated world. NYU Press.

Fandom and Participatory Culture – Subcultures and Sociology. Retrieved 2 December 2019, from https://haenfler.sites.grinnell.edu/subcultural-theory-and-theorists/fandom-and-participatory-culture/

Hutchins, A., & Tindall, N. T. (Eds.). (2016). Public relations and participatory culture: Fandom, social media and community engagement. Routledge.

#MDA20006 #Week 9 #Fandom & Fan Activism

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jahaanofmenaphos · 4 years

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Of Gods and Men Summary:

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TUMBLR CHAPTER INDEX

QUEST 09: OUR SPIRITS, KINDRED

QUEST SUMMARY:

CHAPTER 1: GRIP OF THE GODS

High above the clouds, Armadyl and his avianse were housed in a temporary cloud fortress that they had erected upon their return to Gielinor. The Empyrean Citadel was unsuitable for housing their numbers, after all. That, and it had been tainted by Sliske’s presence. So, they had to build themselves temporary lodgings, for you can’t exactly spread the avianse across the bed and breakfasts of Misthalin. It helped that the avianse were known for being skilled carpenters. One wouldn’t think that upon looking at them, but never judge a book by its cover.

Looking out towards the horizon of a new dawn, Armadyl stood in quiet contemplation. He’d been trying to work through the turmoils of the last few years in solitude, taking to meditating at the break of day. While doing this, he’d organise his current stresses and plan ways to deal with them by prioritising the most pressing issues and working backwards. He didn’t want to worry his generals by showing just how much it was eating at him to be back on Gielinor. When they’d first arrived on Gielinor in the Second Age, they were escaping their homeworld of Abbinah, looking for peace and community in a pure world that was rich in resources, a world that would allow them to prosper without the threat of constant storms and hurricanes raging above, a world that didn’t require ritual sacrifice of the elderly to relieve the burden on the young.

Gielinor was that perfect world.

Now, it was being ravaged by war, just as it was many centuries ago. Those who forget the past were doomed to repeat it, and Armadyl was not going to let what happened to his avianse on that fateful day ever happen again.

Now, new issues had arisen, namely his ‘prize’ of inheriting the vast majority of Bandosians after he’d slain their god. Honestly, he didn’t expect that to happen. Not that he didn’t welcome the challenge of teaching a new group that there was a way of life beyond war, a way of life instead driven by peace and justice. But undoing eons of Bandosian indoctrination had left him with his hands full. Understaffed and unprepared, Armadylean forces had been stretched thin.

And then, Armadyl had heard about the fate of the Dorgesh-Kaan.

The guilt of being unable to prevent this genocide, one execuated in his name, was clawing at his heart.

Kree'arra entered onto the balcony, tentatively calling out, “My lord?”

Shuddering, Armadyl tried to briefly take the Dorgesh-Kaan out of his mind. Turning to the general, he attempted a warm smile. “Come, Kree'arra. What news do you bring?”

“Nothing positive, my lord,” Kree'arra regretfully admitted. “The situation in Ardougne is growing worse by the day, and our scouts are no closer to finding Sliske and your Staff.”

Armadyl wasn’t disappointed. Not really, anyway. In both matters, he’d expected as much. The reports had plateaued, and he didn’t expect much of an improvement anytime soon.

“Kree'arra,” Armadyl’s tone was resigned, yet resolved. “If the situation here on Gielinor continues to deteriorate, I am not putting my people in harm's way by remaining. We shall depart this world and find somewhere else to nest, with or without my Staff. Power is nothing if my people are lost, like I thought they were all those years ago.”

“But where would we go, my lord?” Kree'arra asked, softly. “We cannot return to Abbinah.”

“Of course not, but I have an idea… it may be a long shot, yes, but we might be able to save those left behind on Abbinah, and create a new home for all of the avianse. Say, Kree'arra… what do you know of Tarddiad.”

Furrowing his brow, Kree'arra replied, “The homeland of the elves? Little, my lord. It is known as a land covered in trees.”

“And mountaintops, waterfalls, lush vegetation…” Armadyl added, growing in excitement. “I have a plan. Seren cares a lot for her elves - she’s a compassionate being, kinder than all the other gods I have encountered. Our people are skilled craftsmen and healers, so we could help her people in numerous ways. If I can persuade Seren to share the skies of Tarddiad with us, we needn’t ever want for resources or stability ever again. We would be safe, Kree'arra!”

His frown deepening, Kree'arra averted his gaze from the diety’s. Armadyl had always been a dreamer, but Kree'arra found himself to be a pessimist by nature, always hating to ground the idealistic musings of his god. “That would be wonderful, my lord… but do you really think Seren would give up part of sovereignty over Tarddiad to us?”

“It would take some convincing, yes,” Armadyl accepted. “But I shall discuss the idea with her upon our next encounter. Hopefully she will see the merits in my proposal.”

Turning back towards the horizon, Armadyl’s tone was wistful, yet determined, as he said, “I will find a home for us, Kree'arra. I will save the avianse…”

***

It was a dreary Essianday in Lumbridge, but as Essianday was the Saradominist holy day of the week, church was in service. Father Urhney, an irritable priest, was leading the congregation. Never in a good mood, the wild-haired priest detested being back in the town of Lumbridge, having moved into the swamps to the south not so long ago in an attempt to spend two years in silent meditation and prayer. However, every time someone bothered him with conversation, he forced himself to start over. Hence, he was a rather grumpy fellow.

Since the end of the Battle of Lumbridge, the town’s residents - usually devout Saradominists - had been attending services less and less, meaning that the coffers at the front were a lot lighter than usual. Considering this was how the priests gained an income in the town, it was a worry for them all, even those who had isolated themselves in a swampy shack.

The reason for the drop in attendance was due to a rise in Godless and Armadylean supporters who had turned from Saradomin after the Battle of Lumbridge was concluded. Turns out, not many people care to have their town demolished and the deity they pray to walk away without so much as an apology.

The priest that usually ran the quaint little service was Father Aereck, a frail and subdued man, who was not well equipped to deal with the challenge of regaining Saradominist support in Lumbridge.

Because of this, Father Urhney forced himself from his little shack and ventured back into the town to take over regular services. Today was his first one, and word had gotten around about his return, so the church was a lot fuller than normal. It turned out that a lot of people had questions they wanted answered, and Father Aereck was not doing the job for them, so they made the most of utilising Father Urhney’s time.

But upon hearing the white noise of chattering, questions, demands and a few stray insults, Father Urhney regretted his life choices. Irritably shaking his head, he raised his hands in an attempt to calm the congregation.

This achieved nothing.

Gritting his teeth, he squinted his eyes tightly and exclaimed, “Please, one at a time! Saradomin only has two ears, and so do I.”

Fortunately, that was enough to subdue them, but it wouldn’t last long. So, capitalising on the silence, he motioned to a man in the front row, one of the rowdier members who was chomping at the bit to speak.

“Why should we follow Saradomin anymore?” the man asked, a loaded question if there ever was one. “He left our town in ruins. I heard about this Armadyl guy - he seems to be a stand up fella, preachin’ justice and peace and all that.”

“He went to war with Bandos in open conflict,” Father Urhney countered, rolling his eyes. “Not very peaceful if you ask me. But yes, before you say it, Bandos was a threat that needed to be neutralised. He’s dead now. Zamorak is still out there, causing chaos. He’s invaded Ardougne! Where’s Armadyl now? He’s left those people there to fend for themselves, whereas Saradomin has sent his forces to battle the dark Zamorak head on. Peace can only be achieved once Saradomin takes his rightful place as the only god in Gielinor. There is a pattern to the ascendance and collapse of civilisation - a cycle of tragedy. Saradomin has the knowledge to break this cycle, and most importantly, the will to lead everyone forwards. Gielinor, and other worlds, would be brought into a new age. A utopia. Other gods can claim this, but only Saradomin has the experience necessary to make it happen. Alas, utopia must sometimes be built on bones, so let the lesser gods be the foundation. Then, Saradomin can lead everyone to a glorious future!”

“Lead? You mean, he wants to control everyone?” a disgruntled man in the second row called out, earning a few concurring nods and mumbles from the rest of the attendees.

Father Urhney tried his best to keep his tone measured as he replied, “You say that as though it were a bad thing. People need governments, leaders and structures. Just as freedom doesn't mean anarchy, control doesn't have to mean slavery. Saradomin offers guidance and leadership, law and order. Under his 'control', people could thrive. Everyone would have the reassurance that they know where they belong and how they should behave. Deep down, everyone wants to know where they sit in the world. What you call control, I would argue is true freedom. Freedom to know how life should be lived and how to fulfil one’s potential.”

“I heard from my niece in Ardougne that there’s a Mahjarrat-y fellow running around with one of them there elder weapons! He’s gonna use it to destroy everyone!”

This statement came out of nowhere, interrupting the contemplative quiet that had arose following Father Urhney’s response. For all his personal foibles, Father Urhney was incredibly devout and the conviction from which he spoke could turn even the most stubborn of heads.

But now, that peace had been ruined, and naturally, the congregation went into panicked uproar. Some of the Lumbridge folk were rural and quite traditional in their beliefs, but they knew enough to decide that the Mahjarrat were bad, and one having an Elder Weapon was worse. Of course, this was a gross oversimplification, one that a lot of Mahjarrat would take umbrage to, but the public perception was hard to change, and Sliske running around with the Stone of Jas was doing little to help matters.

The lack of Saradominist Mahjarrat didn’t help either.

Having heard Brother Samwell’s tale of Sliske, Icthlarin and the Empyrean Citadel, Father Urhney was a lot more knowledgeable on what was really going on in the world in comparison to his congregation. Deciding that giving at least a little bit of context could assist in both settling the nerves of the churchgoers and prove that he and his fellow priests were in-the-know, Father Urhney once again silenced the crowd and said, “Calm down, everyone. If you let me talk, I can quell some of these exaggerated rumours. Now, firstly, yes, there’s a Mahjarrat who has the Stone of Jas, and-QUIET! For Saradomin’s sake, can you let me finish?! Yes, the rumours are true, but Saradomin is fighting to get the Stone back into his safekeeping, and he WILL succeed. He will take the fight to all the other gods, and this Mahjarrat, and the Stone will be his once again. That’s why he needs your support!”

“Why Saradomin?” one of the men at the back piped up, pushing off from the wall he was leaning against. “Why not another god, or heck, how about NO god?”

“The Stone will fall into someone’s hands, it cannot simply go no-where and belong to no-one,” Father Urhney grumbled, shaking his head with an irritated sigh. “Saradomin has wielded the Stone before, wisely and with care, and he shall do so again. Can you say such of the others? The dark Zamorak would use it to destroy the world; Zaros would enslave it to his will, and grow more dangerous than ever; Armadyl has no idea what to do with such power, and would destroy himself with his naivety; and Seren would use its power only in support of her precious elves. Saradomin, on the other hand, will use its power with wisdom and compassion, for the betterment of ALL life on Gielinor. Now, are there any more questions?”

Once he saw almost every hand in the room shoot up, it took everything in Father Urhney’s power to not storm out and end the service early.

***

The dragonkin were a race of powerful and intelligent dragon-like creatures that originated from the previous cycle of the universe, a handful of them having survived the revision of the universe by hiding in the Abyss. The surviving dragonkin sought out Jas for mercy or retribution, only to end up being bound to her Catalyst - the Stone of Jas - and were tasked with protecting it at all costs. When the Stone was used by a being other than Jas, they were cursed to feel great pain and suffering that could only be eased by violence and rampage. Thus, tales of the dragonkin speak of a malevolent and dangerous species.

There were two factions of the dragonkin on Gielinor. The first, the Dactyl dragonkin, who repress the urge to cause destruction and kill 'False Users'. Instead, they undertake research and perform experiments in an attempt to sever their connection to the Stone of Jas. The other faction were the Necrosyrtes, a war-like faction comprised of those who have given into their urge to cause destruction. Kerapac belonged to the former, and had dedicated his life to ridding the dragonkin of Jas’ curse.

On this night, Kerapac was found huddled over one of the journals he was writing, locked inside his cramped and dimly lit study. He and his fellow draginkin had been forced from their home at the heart of Daemonheim when Bilrach tunnelled deep into its depths. Realistically, they could have fought off any intruder, but were against revealing themselves to the world at such a time. In fact, if Kerapac had his way, they would still be an unknown presence in Gielinor. Unfortunately, Sithaph and Strisath had taken matters into their own hands, succeeding at retrieving the Staff of Armadyl (momentarily) but falling short of safeguarding the Stone. After all, they didn’t have the power to teleport the Stone to safety by themselves. They were brutes, weaklings - kath, as they were known in the dragonkin language. And thanks to them, the world knew about the existence of the dragonkin.

Kerapac had self-proclaimed himself as the ‘Observer’, watching over the affairs of Gielinor with patience and detachment. Until now, that is. With Sliske’s slaying of Guthix and bringing back the gods to Gielinor, the world was in upheaval, and Kerapac could sense the disturbance beneath him. The Elder Gods would awaken soon, they would hatch their spawn, and so the universe would restart once again, just like it did eons ago. Kerapac sensed it then, and managed to hide some of his people away… but he knew he would not be so lucky this time.

But while they were still bound to the Stone, there was very little the dragonkin could do.

Kerapac knew that the time for observation was over, and he formulated a plan. Many plans, in fact - Kerapac was not a being to leave much to chance. If successful, this latest idea would leave the Elder Mirror in his possession. The Elder Mirror was used by the Elder Gods for large-scale creation, being able to create copies of things. Currently, the dragonkin had tracked down its location to a being known simply as ‘V’, the god of the Fremennik people.

As of now, V had kept to himself, choosing to isolate himself and his people from the current affairs of the other deities, along with the chase for the Stone of Jas.

Kerapac had no qualms about killing him. He’d slaughter civilisations if it meant his fellow dragonkin could finally be free.

Other such plans had yet to return positive results; no dragonkin had managed to locate Sliske, as of yet, and the search for the other Elder Artifacts wasn’t going so well. Twelve were known, but only a handful were even obtainable. The Siphon and the Catalyst - colloquially known as the Staff of Armadyl and the Stone of Jas, respectively - were in Sliske’s possession. The Locator, also known as the Crown Archival, was able to find other Elder Artifacts, though only ones of considerably less power. It would prove incredibly useful to any deity, and indeed to the dragonkin, but it was currently held by Saradomin, who Kerapac knew had too much power and support to take on directly. Others, such as The Kiln, were useless to the dragonkin, only used for creating TokHaar workers to shape the world. And then there were the artefacts that were lost to time and space, those that may not even be on Gielinor, such as The Codex and The Template. Kerapac only knew of their existence due to his past proximity to the Stone of Jas, something that granted him knowledge most mortals could only dream of.

So many artefacts, so many gods, so little time.

But for now, Kerapac kept writing in his journal, documenting his work to save his people from the curse brought upon them by a being as old as the universe. If it meant killing a god, or numerous gods, he would do so. If it meant challenging Sliske directly, he would do so. If it meant laying down his own life so that his descendents could live without suffering, he would do so.

***

The small study Sliske had carved out for himself was dimly lit in the glow of only two candles. It made the knife-work he was undertaking much more of a challenge, having to refrain from slicing off his own fingers with the sharp blade, but this helped him focus more, to concentrate on the task at hand instead of letting his mind drift to unwanted realms. Unfortunately, that suffocating feeling always managed to creep inside, rattling with voices that were always his own, always familiar, yet simultaneously alien.

The voices had been there since he was young, and he’d managed to keep them a secret from the rest of his tribe. Except from his brother, that is, who was the only one he could confide in at such a young age. These voices didn’t worry him, and from what he’d gathered from his time amongst humans, many of them were subject to the same conditions.

Perhaps Mahjarrat are susceptible too? Perhaps I’m not the only one?

He didn’t know, and venturing such a notion would have led him down a rabbit hole, perhaps even to the Marker.

So, they were kept a secret.

Well, for the most part; Relomia - Sliske’s emissary, someone who often lurked in Sliske’s lair whenever the Mahjarrat would permit company - had often heard her master mutter to himself when in the depths of deep thought, conversing with himself like he wasn’t the only one in the room. It troubled her, to hear some of the things her master would say, but she didn’t dare confront him, for he might not take too kindly to the notion she had been eavesdropping all this time.

Whittling wooden masks was Sliske’s favourite way to de-stress; whenever he felt overwhelmed by anything and needed to clear his mind, or simply narrow it enough to fix a troubling part of a plan, he would take a knife and carve theatrical masks. Some of them he would enchant, for the humour in it, but the vast majority he would burn.

There was never much subtlety or nuance in Sliske’s masks. For a being that prided himself on being unreadable, his wooden creations undercut that entirely. Sliske had already carved eight masks this evening alone and was working on his ninth. This mask, however, was blank. Not that he had yet to carve an emotion into it, but the mask itself portrayed emotionless.

“You’ve been waiting for this your entire lifetime,” Sliske growled lowly to himself. “If you don’t act now, it may be too late. Gods know you have a target on your back…”

“You shouldn’t have told him. You should have known he would betray you.”

“Why did you tell him? Why did you think honesty would get you anywhere? It never has and it never will.”

“He went behind your back. He was never going to fulfil the agreement.”

“Why did you think he would be any different?”

“You thought you could reason with him? Bargain for something so precious? You fool.”

“What is wrong with you?” he hissed with disgust, causing his knife hand to slip and accidentally slice his into his thumb. The wound wasn’t deep, but claret still trickled across the mask’s face, dripping through the eyehole and into a small puddle beneath him. “He wouldn’t be persuaded so easily. Be reasonable. Plan A was a longshot - you knew that. So, you’ll just have to do things the hard way...”

After a few more minutes of bloodstained whittling, Sliske held the mask up to admire his handiwork, though instead regarded it with nothing more than a heavy glare of disinterest. He tossed it into the corner.

Rising to his feet, he walked over to the pile of masks he’d accumulated over the last few months. It took up a fair bit of space; Sliske was holding off on burning them until he could justify a bonfire. “Everything is ready. Soon, he’ll be ready too. A few hours and it’ll all be over. You’ll be safe, forever. It’s what you’ve always wanted. Immortality is within reach, so don’t let those ridiculous notions of yours get in the way. After all, you’ll forget him in time.”

He reached among the pile and found a mask with a wicked sneer carved into it. Holding it up to his face, he mimicked the expression inside the mask. “Yes, it won’t be long now…”

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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