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canary3d-obsessed · 3 years

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 23, second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Nature Abhors a (Power) Vacuum

Jin Guangshan, Nie Mingjue, and Lan Xichen have gathered to decide what to do about the remaining Wen people and also what to do about the Yin metal. They have not invited Jiang Cheng to this discussion, or blowhard Clan Leader Yao, despite those clans having been hit particularly hard by the Wens in the course of the war.

The three of them have a conversation about what to do with the Wen captives, showing their different attitudes towards killing.

Jin Guangshan: Killing is awesome, particularly in project management. It's just so efficient. Nie Mingjue: Killing is necessary, and a little bit fun, too. Lan Xichen: Killing is necessary, sadly, but we can randomly spare some women or old people, as a token sign that we’re not monsters. Kind of like when you have a fancy dinner and include a tofu dish for the vegetarians. Nie Mingjue: Nobody likes tofu, Xichen.

Jin Guangshan says he's looking for the Yin Iron and that they can't let any Wens or "ambitious people" get a hold of it. By ambitious people he means Wei Wuxian, not himself and his murder kid. Lan Xichen realizes this right away but doesn't, you know, do anything to contradict him. Jin Guangshan says he's asked "A-Yao" to look into it. Which is smart, because A-Yao is already in cahoots with Xue Yang, who actually has the piece of Yin Iron they're looking for.

Getting Jiggy With It

Then Jin Guangshan introduces Meng Yao, now renamed Jin Guangyao, in a weird twist on generation names. He has given him the name of a sibling or cousin of his own generation (starting with Guang), rather than a name of the next generation (starting with Zi). JGS says that JGY just recently learned about about being related to him, although we know perfectly well that's not true.

And they both talk like he appreciates JGY's efficiency and helpfulness, but that's not why JGS has him at his side. He has taken him in because he is a steel-eyed murder bot, not in spite of it.

(OP does not believe that Jin Guangyao could have been a good person if only his dad had let him hold Jin Ling that one time, as some have argued. Dude killed his own child because there was a chance he might be disabled in a way that could lead to gossip. Dude is a stone cold killer.)

(more after the cut)

In the language of CDrama costume (which is not, precisely, the language of actual historical clothing), Jin Guangyao has chosen to dress as a minister instead of as a chevalier. This is partly an artifact of his mother's ideas about a gentleman. It also suggests that he’s content with the sort of career that's available to a bastard of a noble house--not inheriting the noble title, but having enough favor to rise in power.

It may also be a ruse to make him seem like he's not a strong cultivator and not a strong fighter, when in fact he is both, at least by the time he’s throwing death chords at Jiang Cheng, much later in the show.

Mingjue makes all kinds of grumpy faces and snarky remarks to let everyone know that he fucking hates Jin Guangyao. Xichen agrees to his “nice refugee camp with only a little death” plan, with no qualifications.

Now we get to see Jin Guangyao's manipulation of Lan Xichen. Lan Xichen says that Nie Mingjue wants a plan that’s more killy, because he believes in punishing evil. JGY deliberately misunderstands this, pretending that Lan Xichen said he, JGY, is evil, kind of forcing LXC to reassure him and take his side in an argument that isn’t actually happening.

They have a little handholding while bowing, and then after Lan Xichen leaves, Jin Guangyao puts on his evil face and has all the prisoners killed behind the big closed door.

This is done in such a violent fashion that the blood apparently flows up several stairs to the door, and over the tall raised threshold, before flowing downward toward the camera. Some evil is so extreme that even traditional Chinese doorway architecture can’t stop it.

Run To the Rock

Then we go outside to where Wei Wuxian is standing on a rocky outcropping, thinking it would be a good strategic spot to choose if he's ever in a battle where he wants to commit suicide right quick.

Lan Wangji comes to join him and admire the view, not knowing yet that this view, or one a whole lot like it, is going to be seared into his memory for most of his life.

Lan Wangji is becoming more and more committed to Wei Wuxian, more and more inexorably joined to him, but he still doesn't agree with him. So they each have this comfort in each others' presence at the same time as being massively in conflict.

Wei Wuxian asks him what he thinks of all the politicking and murdering. Who is good and who is evil? LWJ doesn't answer because WWX is leaking black smoke, so he grabs him and tells him to concentrate. Lan Wangji is, incidentally, wearing Princess-Leia quantities of lip gloss.

Lan Wangji asks if Wei Wuxian would like to learn a new tune, "Absterge" according to Netflix. The fuck? [op looks it up in the dictionary]. "To cleanse, especially by wiping." Also known as aftercare. Netflix. Honey. This word is MIDDLE FRENCH. Will you knock it the fuck off?

So anyway, instead of answering his question about who is good and who is evil, LWJ asks if he wants to learn a song called "Cleansing." Wei Wuxian says “hey babe, are you fucking kidding me?”

His actual words are "you doubt me too?" meaning "you think I also took the missing 4th chunk of Yin iron to make my ugly tiger amulet, rather than obviously having used that giant sword I pulled out of the turtle?"

Lan Wangji mentally replays Wen Ruohan's questions in his head--the questions he barked at Wei Wuxian right before choking him unconscious--which Lan Wangji also feels entitled to know the answers to. Fuck you, Lan Wangji. He answers WWX with "when did you forge your amulet?" Which is his way of saying "yes, I doubt you."

Wei Wuxian kindly refrains from saying "while we were on a break, bitch" and instead tells him the exact truth--I found a yin iron sword in the turtle--but says it in his patented "make it sound like a lie" way.

LWJ keeps grilling him, eventually coming out and saying dude, you knew the sword was Yin iron, why did you need to use it?

This is the crucial question--why WWX broke his first promise, to Lan Yi, which was to try to get rid of the Yin Iron. He won’t tell anyone the answer, which is that he needs to use it because he can't cultivate normally, because he lost his golden core. He made a lot of promises before that happened, and he probably expected to keep them. But without his core, everything changed; without his core, he’s a different person, so it’s maybe not fair to expect him to honor his previous promises.

I’m reminded of my grandfather, who was the oldest son of an old southern US family, with lots of expectations as the firstborn. He went off to WWI as a soldier, expecting to die. He didn’t die, and so from that point on, he regarded his life as a gift. He felt could do whatever he wanted with it, and let go of expectations from before the war. He moved to Paris and took up with a glamorous divorcee 7 years older than him (my Grandma, eventually).

The actual point of that story, other than OP having cool grandparents, is that when you think you’re going to die, and then you don’t die, your ideas about what you owe to people can change quite a bit. Wei Wuxian expected to die in the Burial Mounds; he expected to die at Nightless City; he expects it, over and over, and each time he doesn’t die, he gets further and further from being what everyone else wants him to be. And--a lot like soldiers returning from a war-- NOBODY in his life knows how to talk to him about it.

Wei Wuxian tells Lan Wangji to back off, Lan Wangji says why aren't you letting me help you, and they are once again on the edge of the same fight they keep having. Lan Wangji does some impassioned arm holding while Wei Wuxian says he's not like Wen Ruohan.

Romantic Duet #1

The argument is interrupted by screams and killing, so they go to check it out, and find the Jins hunting down some prisoners for sport. They arrive in time to save two people. Yay?

Jin ZIxun acts like a jerk, as always. The new element is that per Jin Guangshan, anyone concerned with Yin Iron shouldn't be alive. He says that the Lan and Nie clans agreed, and challenges Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji stops him from responding, grabbing his wrist.

The Jins leave and Wei Wuxian refers back to their earlier conversation, saying there will be more resentful spirits now and that "Rest" is the music to play, not "Cleansing."

He gives Lan Wangji a long look and then pointedly removes Lan Wangji’s hand from his wrist, by holding his hand, which is some next-level mixed signaling. Lan Wangji totally deserves it at this point, though. He keeps pushing and pushing WWX about his cultivation method, but he refuses to discuss the underlying morality of it, or the morality of the killing going on right in front of them.

WWX walks off, leaving LWJ to stew in his own juices surrounded by a bunch of fresh corpses.

Lan Wangji fails his saving throw against the guilt trip, and sits his ass down to play Rest, just like Wei Ying told him to. So switchy! Wei Wuxian, out of sight but not out of earshot, hears him and accompanies him on Chenqing.

This scene is slightly ridiculous and a whole lot sublime. Ridiculous because it's their first time playing music together, so it's a super slow, romantic, extended scene, but they're surrounded by corpses. And not the helpful, friendly, third-wheel-on-a-date type of corpses.

It's sublime because the occasion of their first beautiful, literally magical duet is an argument. And they are joining together to play beautiful romantic music - as a service for the dead. And they are doing it while they are on literally opposite sides of a literal killing field. And Lan Wangji is sitting literally in the middle of a wide open road; the sort of road that they will both reject, metaphorically, later in the show. There is so much about their conflict and their journey that is encapsulated in this one musical moment.

Lan Wangji, by playing the song Wei Wuxian said was needed, is telling WWX that he took his words to heart, that he is listening, even though they're at odds.

WWX, by stopping and playing with him, is acknowledging this. And by settling the dead souls together, they are both reinforcing their dedication to doing what's right even as they both struggle with knowing what that is.

When Other Friendships Have Been Forgot, Ours Will Still Be Hot

Now we have the sworn brothers thing. I understand, plot wise, why this has to happen, but why would Nie Mingjue ever agree to this? Lan Xichen's puppy eyes are just that persuasive?

If they ever crack your spine, drop a line If they ever cut your throat, write a note If you’re ever in a mill and get sawed in half, I won’t laugh (HA HA HA HA)

Tedious Party Time

Now there's a cultivation party, which is about as excruciating to watch as it would be to attend.

Everyone is lining up to praise Jin Guangshan. To be fair, he did provide shelter for most of the smaller clans while the war was going on. So being grateful is appropriate, but Clan Leader Yao practically breaks his own neck kissing Jin ass. Yao says JGY’s contribution was the greatest of the war, adding, "fuck Wei Wuxian; everything is his fault."

The Jiangs show up wearing mourning belts that show off their itty bitty waists, and Jin Guangshan makes shifty eyes like a cartoon landlord when he sees them arrive.

JGS praises Jiang Cheng, and asks when his fancy clan-leader ceremony is going to happen. Jiang Cheng says he's still in mourning so it's not appropriate. JGS is like “Oh...yeah," as if he totally forgot about all the Yunmeng slaughter, and talks up his friendship with Jiang Fengmian. He acts comforting while WWX manages not to barf.

Then the Lan clan shows up and there is nice encouraging chit chat between LXC and JC...

...and just, SO MUCH mournful staring between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian.

Then the Nies arrive. Jin Guangshan tells Nie Mingjue he's late, and that everyone's waiting for him. That might be true in the script but it’s clearly bullshit on the screen, where the Lans and the Jiangs are still milling around looking for the coat room.

Nie Mingjue--who, let's remember, JUST swore to be brothers with Jin Guangyao--looks at him like he's something that fell off a garbage truck. Lan Xichen jumps in to maximize the discomfort by pointing out that Jin Guangyao should address Nie Mingjue as Big Daddy Da-ge from now on.

Then the Jins offer Nie Mingjue the giant fire throne because...he's the leader of the Sunshot campaign, I guess? Of course it's all a manipulation tactic, designed to make him say he won't sit there, so that JGS can elevate himself to head cultivator, or something? And sit in front of the throne but not on it? Cultivator succession seems kinda arbitrary.

I swear to god, it wasn't until I was clipping this episode that I realized Wen Ruohan had two thrones and they're in different rooms from each other.

Finally everyone goes to sit down, but because there hasn't been enough fucking awkwardness, JGY stops WWX to ask him what's on his mind. WWX asks him why he's not carrying his sword, which made me laugh and laugh. Wei Wuxian must have been just waiting for a chance to ask someone else that question for a change.

Jin Guangyao says he threw it away, because it was just a random sword, but he really means he had it made into a sneaky murder belt, that he will be using again in 13 to 16 years. They both fake-laugh and trade Mean Girls insults pretend to like each other.

Everyone wanders around toasting each other. Lan Wangji goes to find Wei Wuxian, after first making sure that his hair looks good.

Wei Wuxian is lying around on the steps, sprawling and drinking wine, and not, incidentally, looking for Lan Wangji. He continues to not seek him out and Lan Wangji continues to chase after him.

Wei Wuxian says "how about playing Cleansing?" but Lan Wangji says he's learning a new score. It looks like it's going to be another argument, but then Wei Wuxian smiles and kind of praises Lan Wangji for being stubborn.

Awkward Marriage Proposal

Just then everyone inside starts cheering for Jin Guangshan to give a speech. Jin Guangshan is making a move to marry Jiang Yanli to his son, which is a big time power grab, given that the Jiang Clan is 1. vulnerable and depleted 2. has control of the Yin tiger amulet.

We get a very rare glimpse into Jiang Cheng’s inner mind, where he thinks that saying yes isn’t a great idea, but isn’t sure what to do. This marriage would make his sister happy, but could destroy the Jiang Clan's independence.

Fortunately, Wei Wuxian joins the party just in time to fuck up Jin Guanshan’s plans. Will this teach Jin Guangshan not to invite Wei Wuxian to parties? It will not.

Soundtrack: Friendship, by Cole Porter (from “Anything Goes”)

Bonus:

#the untamed #the untamed gifs #wangxian #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #words:2750

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

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77. a prophecy said that we’ll save the world together but I’ll be damned if I enjoy your company while we do because you insulted my best friend the first time we met

Ot4, sfw, please!

Here you go! I'm very pleased with this one

The drive hasn’t changed. The road into Kepler goes under the same covered bridges and winds up the same hills it always has. Even the views from driveway to the October House are the same one’s he watched through back windows with rising delight. He’d hoped to get here when the fall colors were still crisp and bright, but they droop from the branches like mourners from the weight of the grey rain.

No one batted an eye when he said he was moving North on Joe’s invitation; Joseph Stern inherited the ancestral home in Vermont, with its sprawling grounds and stately decay. It would make sense that he’d ask the friend who spent so many summers with him there to take up the role of groundskeeper.

Duck pulls his truck into the carport next to a languishing Chrysler Imperial. He runs his finger over the black curves, raindrops plinking on the tin roof as he wonders whether he could coax Joe into taking him for a ride.

He leaves his bags in the car for now. Letting his friend know he’s here is the top priority.

The house is just as tall and mismatched as he remembers, turrets and wide windows mixed with sloping eaves and a sun room. It’s patchwork quilt character extends to it’s color; some walls are red, others goldenrod, and the door is bright as a ripe pumpkin.

Joe christened it the October House the first summer he and Duck visited there. Joseph’s aunt, a proud spinster, suggested his transplant parents send him to the family farm for a few months of growth. When Joe showed his characteristic skepticism about spending his summer alone in Vermont, she offered to let him bring a friend. He chose Duck every year.

The October House was the last thing they spoke about the night before Duck left for basic training (and, soon after, Normandy). Joe was already slipping off the map, recruited for secret purposes by men who valued his intelligence over his humanity. He told Duck to remember the summer they were thirteen, to remember he was brave.

It wasn’t Duck Newton’s first war, but it was for damn sure his last.

He opens the door with the tarnished key Joe sent him. Anywhere else, he’d call out to find his host. But he knows where he’ll be.

One flight of creaking stairs, a left turn down the hallway of faded photos, a right into the room with the mural of Noah’s Ark on the wall, and there he is. Black hair slicked back, blue silk robe covering old scars and new, and eyes that are bluer still turning to take him in.

That’s Joe alright; immaculate even in his madness.

“You’re here.” He stands, dazzling smile reflecting the firelight.

“Told you I’d come. Can’t leave you here to get buried alive in books.” He opens his arms, unsure even as he commits to the movement. Joe hesitates, then steps across crumpled maps of stars and seas to hug him.

“I missed you.” He whispers. Duck doesn’t mention that Joe was the one to disappear once the war was over. They had one night in Huntington celebrating the boys who made it home; Joe’s smile stayed painted on the whole time, but Duck couldn’t get him alone to ask why. Then he fled north and didn’t respond to letters.

“Missed you too, Joe.” He peers over the taller man’s shoulder, takes in the mural and all the materials on the floor. Duck steps from the hug, paper crunching under his boots as he goes to trace the door of the ark, “you’re tryin to go back.”

“I want proof Sylvain was real. I, I want to see it again, to know we didn’t dream it.”

“Got a scar on belly that says we didn’t.” Duck turns, slips his hands into his pockets, “why are you really tryin to go back? They told us we couldn’t, said that if we came home the gate would shut for good.”

Joe doesn’t answer right away, runs his fingers over the badgers and bears fleeing the flood, “Do you ever wish we’d stayed?”

Duck thinks about bloody sand. Then about Jane getting married. His folks celebrating their twentieth anniversary.

“No. Christ, Joe, we were thirteen. It was fucked up to ask us to. Who the fuck asks two kids to rule a kingdom?”

A weak laugh, “and people say I’m the smart one.”

“You are.” Duck touches his shoulder, “now c’mon, smart guy, you don’t show me where my room is, I’m takin yours.”

------------------------------------------------

“You sure this is the spot?” Barclay keeps a close eye on the gathering darkness for any bursts of sickly white.

“Yes. The maps align with the stories that they emerged near “a stone like that of a broken heart.” Indrid draws hurriedly in the dirt with his claws, his lower hands uncorking bottles as he does, “come closer, if this catalyzes before I expect, I do not want you to be left behind.”

Barclay sets a hand on his shoulder. Feels his feathers shudder as he inhales.

“It’s time. I, if this does not work, I am sorry.”

He bends, kisses Indrid between his antenna, “I trust you, little moth.”

Indrid hums as amber light fills the clearing, and then everything he knows and loves dissolves into heat and empty air.

---------------------------------------------------

It's the same static, the rush of heat like wind in a wildfire. The hairs on Duck’s arm snap to attention as Joe leaps from his chair. The door on the ark shimmers and glows with alien majesty. Then two figures fall face-first on the floor and the light is gone.

“Are you alright?” Joe bends to help the first, feathered shape but it stands in a flurry of down, the hairy figure following suit.

“Yesyes, we are fine.” The feathery one looks like a massive moth with some human features.

“Oh.” Joe grins, “I’ve never seen a Sylph like you before. This, this is incredible.”

“You know what we are?” The other asks hopefully.

“We do. We, I’m, I’m Joseph Stern, and this is Duck Newton-”

“Thank the stars.” The mothman bends one knee, his friend doing the same, “yes, we are humble emissaries of the kingdom of Sylvain. We have searched for months to find our way to you. You, who prophecy says will aid us, return and take your rightful place as kings, and save our home once more.”

“No. Nuh-uh, not a fuckin chance.” Duck steps back, spots conflict in Joe’s eyes.

“What do you mean?” The mothman stands, “you, the prophecy, my visions showed you-”

“Then they showed fuckin wrong. I just got my life into some kind of order, I’m not letting you and some giant fuckin ape-thing drag me into another mess.”

Red eyes narrow, “Do not speak of Barclay that way.”

“I’ll speak about him however I damn well please because this is my house!”

“Technically, it’s my house.” Joe sighs, “But Duck is right. We almost died saving Sylvain once before. As, as much as I miss it, I’m not sure I can go back if it means risking our lives again. I was sort of hoping for a middle ground between being stuck here and a near-death adventure.”

“Please-” Barclay steps towards Joe.

“Hey, he said no, so fuck off.” Duck growls. The Sylph growls back.

“Buddy, do you have any idea how much we risked to get here? How much energy Indrid just used to open the gate. Oh, and, by the way, without the stuff we came here for we can’t go home. We’ll be stuck here.”

“Then you shoulda had a back-up plan instead of assumin you could just say a few fancy words and get us to go back. Oughta get some brains to go with the brawn there, big fella.”

“Enough” Indrid hisses, glaring at Duck. “I do not care if you are a chosen one, nothing gives you the right to speak to him, or to me, so callously. We came to you, you who are--if I did not make it clear--our last hope, and you respond with cruelty. I ought to teach you manners, but I will restrain myself.”

“Like to see you try.” He turns to where Joe is carding a hand through his hair, expression lost, “it’s your place, so you decide how we get rid of ‘em. But I’m done here.” With that, he stomps down the stairs, already suspecting Joe will let the Sylphs stay. When it becomes clear that’s the plan, Duck heads into the garden to work and stays there until all the lights are off.

It’s just after midnight when he wakes from a dream, slicing at the air while weak cries die on his tongue. He sits up, then goes gravestone still as the door opens. Indrid’s eyes are warning lights in the dark hall.

“Are you hurt? It did not seem fair to leave your calls unanswered.”

“No. Just had a, uh, a bad dream.”

The Sylph steps through the door, turning on the small, standing lamp, “It is strange to be the only one not waking in terror for once. Well, I suppose Barclay doesn’t.”

Duck tosses off the blanket, “Fuck, is Joe-”

“He is fine now. Barclay was up looking at cookbooks when he started screaming and went to him. Your friend did not wish to wake you, but was so shaken Barclay offered to stay with him.” A little smile, “he is very comforting. Soft, too.”

“You’re sure he was just dreamin? Not sick or anythin?”

“Positive. He was yelling in some other language.” Indrid fiddles with the knick-knacks on a shelf.

Duck runs a hand across his face, “Probably German.”

Indrid cocks his head.

“He had to learn it when he was a, uh, a spy in the last war. The one here. He...he got caught, I only know that because everyone talked about how miraculous it was that he escaped. Joe never talks about it.”

“One can imagine why.” Indrid murmurs.

“Then ‘one’ can probably imagine why I don’t want either of us near a goddamn battlefield.” Duck snaps.

“Is...oh dear, you think that is what we’re asking of you? Nono, we came here for help in preventing a war, one that may destroy both our worlds.”

“You coulda led with that, y’know?”

“I suppose. I, I am, or was, the court seer. But as the evil spread across our kingdom, it disrupted my powers. Now they’re gone entirely. It’s as if I am navigating the woods with no compass and no stars.” His antenna droop. Duck turns the chair near his bed in invitation. The Sylph moves quietly across the worn boards, “The last vision I received before they disappeared was of you two helping us; I saw a new timeline of futures, bright and hopeful, unfurl before it was gone. When you said you would not help us, it was like ripping my wings from my body mid-flight. That is why I was angry. Well, that and how you spoke to Barclay.”

“Sorry about that.” Duck scratches the back of his neck, “I just...when y’all showed up, all I could think about was bein back in the middle of a fight. Of, of seein Joe die.”

“I am sorry too. I did not know you had suffered such things.” Indrid picks at the blanket with chipped claws, “I cannot promise there would not be danger if you aid us. But I give you my word that you shall hear no more of it from me. I only wish for you to accept this quest if you wish to.”

“Thanks. That already puts you ahead of the last time.”

Indrid hums, then peers at Duck’s arm where a tattoo peeks from his shirt, “What is that?”

Duck rolls up his sleeve to reveal the pine tree, “got it because it helped me think of home.”

“Yes but how? To wear art on one’s skin, that is amazing. Do you think they could do it on mine?” He holds out his upper right arm. Duck runs a finger up it, thinking of the polished cherrywood on the table downstairs.

“Might be tricky. You need skin for it to work.”

“Blast.” Wings flutter once, “do you have more I may see?”

Duck unbuttons his shirt as Indrid scoots closer; if he’s not going to sleep tonight, at the very least he can make someone happy.

-------------------------------------

“Gotta say, y’all bein’ here is doin’ wonders for him.” Duck hands Barclay a glass of water as he joins him on the porch. Joseph and Indrid are sitting on a sunny path of lawn, Indrid showing the human his wings and explaining them in detail so he can make notes.

“Seems to go both ways. Indrid hasn’t been this animated since we left to find you two. He’s even more talkative.”

“Joe’s always been good at that. He can get anyone talkin, and can make almost anythin sound interestin.”

Barclay sneaks a glance at the human; he’s much friendlier these last two weeks, but his protectiveness of Joseph hasn’t waned.

“I wouldn’t say him cheering up is all on us. From what he told me, the week you got here made him feel like his cares were washing away.”

“Really?”

Barclay nods.

Duck sips his water, rubs the condensation with his thumb, “In, uh, in Sylvain, am I rememberin right that men could marry men? Ain’t always easy to tell when there’s so many kinds of beings runnin’ around.”

“Why wouldn’t that be okay? Some kinds of Sylphs, like Indrid’s, don’t even have things like men and women. I mean, when they offered you and Joseph a chance to rule as kings, the records make it sound like the two of you would have gotten married.”

Duck chokes on his water, splutters as Barclay pats his back, “I, fuck, I’d never, we’d never, I, fuck, definitely never ever didn’t think about it.”

Barclay lets the horrible excuse for a lie slide, “It’s a way bigger deal that Indrid chose me for this; being a seer makes him noble and I’m just a cook. Going off into the wild with me? Trusting me? Thought some of the ministers were gonna faint.”

“Was it just you helpin him or are you two, uh, y’know?”

“Yeah, I do. Can you blame me? Look at him” he gestures to where Indrid is spreading his wings so Joseph can study them. Stars would he like to go down there and hold the human tight while he taught him how to make Indrid purr.

“He really is somethin.” By the look on his face, Duck wants to do the same thing, just in reverse. After a moment, he murmurs, “the night before we were supposed to face the Red Devourer Joe and I were in the tent by the battlefield. Curled back to front, my arms around him and I could feel his heart beating hard as mine. Shoulda been thinkin about strategy, or prayin, or somethin’ like that, but all I could think was that I oughta kiss him, just in case we didn’t survive. But I didn’t. There were chances after that. I never took ‘em.”

“It’s not too late.”

“If you found out Indrid wanted to kiss you for years and was too chicken to, even when he thought he was gonna die, would you really let him?”

Barclay thinks of claws in his fur, of Indrid huddled against him and chirping softly when Barclay asked to kiss him.

“Of course I would.”

--------------------------------

“How long until the summer?” Indrid tosses the wool scarf Duck lent him over one wing.

“Months. Y’all got here in October, which means we ain’t even into the worst of the winter yet.”

An annoyed chirr, “We need more blankets.”

“Get you more when we’re in town tomorrow, fluffball. Hah, here’s some.” Duck kneels to cut some surviving leaves from a wild yarrow. They’re out in the woods because Indrid is running low on his feather oil, which keeps him from being miserable and itchy. He described what it did and let Duck smell some (it’s a bit like aloe and vanilla) so the human could reverse engineer what earth plants might do the trick.

Duck brushes off his pants, looks around, “Huh, we made it to the Maples. Joe’s aunt said she never got much from ‘em, but I don’t think she ever really tried.”

“What is special about them?”

“It’s how you get maple syrup. It’s in these trees.” Duck smirks, remembering Indrid licking the dregs from the bottle at the house with his long, long tongue.

Crunch

He whirls to his left, finds Indrid with both rows of teeth sunk into a maple branch. He giggles, then guffaws as the Sylph pulls off with an indignant chirp.

“You, you gotta, hee, you gotta tap the trunk, n-hee” he doubles over as Indrid bites the same branch while drumming his claws on the trunk, “not quite, need some other tools.”

“Perhaps lead with that?” Indrid grumbles, wiping bark from his face.

“S-sorry just, just didn’t expect you to go to town on it like that, heee”

Indrid grins, “It was worth it to hear you laugh like this.”

God, when was the last time he laughed this hard? The thought sobers him, his joy faltering like a bird in a storm. Then he cackles as four spindly arms hoist him into the air.

“ACKhey, put me down fluffball! Ahhno thatheee, that tickles.” He laughs louder as Indrid holds him to his chest and rubs his fuzzy face against his neck.

“I thought that might do the trick” Indrid purrs, nuzzles his cheek, “no more despair, Duck Newton. Not today.”

Duck turns his face so they’re eye to eye, pine green to ruby red, “Deal.”

---------------------------------------------

“I found everything on the list.” Joseph crumples the note paper and tosses it away as Barclay gleefully unpacks the shopping bags.

“This is so fucking great, I can’t wait for you guys to try this, and Indrid is going to lose his mind when he sees what I made. This dessert is his favorite.” He tucks the heavy cream and pears into the fridge.

“I’m excited to try it. We definitely didn’t eat any tarts when we were in Sylvain. The badgers who hid us from the red mist were, I think, pretty poor.”

“Yeah, the borderlands were bad off in those days. I was just a kid too but I remember digging out roots to try and make some kind of soup.” The Sylph turns those endearing brown eyes on him, “up for being my kitchen assistant again?”

“Always.” Joseph tucks a dishcloth into his belt. He’s very proud of himself for finding earth equivalents to all the ingredients Barclay needed to make a fall dinner from home. Having the Sylphs living with them means he goes into Kepler more often for groceries or goods to fix up the house. Everyone in town thinks his childhood friend is a good influence, getting him out of the stuffy confines of the October House.

They’re not wrong. When Joseph saw Duck in the doorway, a little world-worn but just as kind, just as practical as he always was, he decided that if the other man didn’t want to return to Sylvain, Joseph would set the project aside. He’d focus on the world he was in, because with Duck there he might yet find things to marvel at, things to discover that weren’t mired in the mundanity of human evil. They’d make the October House into a home, live out their days as bachelors.

Then Barclay had come through, auburn-furred and so gentle Joseph wanted to make like butter in the sun and melt. And Indrid, magnificent and vulnerable (and very infatuated with Duck). When Duck announced he’d help them look for clues to stopping the war, Joseph felt buried bits of his mind rising to the light of the new challenge.

After dinner, they take a pot of coffee into the living room. Indrid is delighted by records, is already putting one on as Barclay puts wood on the fire. The seer lays on the rug, head in his lovers lap and purring low.

Love me like there's no tomorrow

kiss me like it's goin' out of style

“You know, I wonder how one dances to this. It is not fast, but the rhythm is not like the formal dances at court.”

“Here, I’ll show you.” Duck stands, offering Joseph his hand. Lord, he’s pictured this so many times but still has to coax his own hand to move, “Joe, you’re leadin.”

He settles his hand on Duck’s hip and holds the other, concentrates on swaying them to the beat.

Hold me like you're afraid I might get away

Love like I've been gone for quite a while

“You can come closer, Joe. I ain’t gonna bite. Not in front of company.”

“I’m holding you to that.” He presses closer, prays for Duck to rest his head on his shoulder.

Take and wrap me in the package

my future my presence and my past

And love me like there's no tomorrow

and each day might be our last

“Dearest, I am rather tired from that lovely meal you made. Shall we retire?”

“Good thinking, little moth.”

Love me like there's no tomorrow

Make each night one more remembered

we will let the heaven be our guide

“Seems they didn’t need much of a demonstration.”

“Not sure that was Indrid’s endgame.”

Just love me like there's no tomorrow

and keep me right by your side

Joseph tips his head down, whispering, “What was?”

Keep me right by your side

“Duck?”

In the crackle of silence between songs, Duck brings their lips together. Joseph forgoes their stance and pulls him against him, their hearts magnets that were finally turned the right way. Then his feet stumble on the rug, Duck pushing him back with a ferocity he didn’t know he possessed.

Joseph drops into the chair, Duck pouncing before as he breathes. Joseph growls, the hunger that’s been chained threatening to crack his chest from the inside, and nips Duck’s lower lip.

“I said no bitin.”

“You said you wouldn’t bite.”

“You're right, darlin’” Duck cups his cheek as Joseph grips his thighs, “I’m gonna do so much more than bite.”

----------------------------------------

It never gets easier, waking from these dreams steeped in shame, fear, and sweat. Except this time someone’s arms are around him.

“I’m right here Joe, we’re here, we’re safe.”

“Very safe.” Indrid stands behind Barclay in the doorway, “another dream?’

“Yes. I, um, I-” he reaches for Barclay without meaning to, is ready to apologize when the Sylph slides into bed beside him.

“Is this okay?” It’s directed at both the humans.

“Yes.”

“Uh huh.”

Barclay adjusts so Joseph can hide his face in his chest. He should ask Indrid if he wants to be on the bed as well, the poor Sylph might think he’s not wanted-

“C’mon fluffball, my back is gettin cold.”

A delighted chirp and then a wing, black with a grey and red eyespot, drapes across him and Duck.

“Mmmmmm, I knew you would be lovely to hold.”

“Aim to please, sugar.”

“What happens now?” Barclay murmurs.

“My vote is we all get some sleep and work out the particulars in the mornin’.”

“Seconded” Joseph mumbles.

“We will need a good night’s rest; tomorrow I make the disguises for myself and Barclay so that we may begin our wider search.”

“Hope you guys like them.”

Joseph squeezes Barclay, smiling as Duck wiggles closer and Indrid’s wing grows heavier, “We’ll love them no matter what, big guy.”

#OT4: Government men and their cryptid boyfriends #sternclay #indruck #inclay #agent stern/duck newton #meet ugly #taz amnesty #agent stern/ barclay

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shuttershocky · 4 years

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@friendliest-human Oh boy get ready

Apologies in advance for the long post there's no Read More on mobile. I'll edit it later i promise.

So like, Team Fortress 2 is a Spy-Fi set in the 60's, where two businessmen, brothers Redmond and Blutarch Mann, wage war over the right to be the sole owners of their inheritance, which their father explicitly left for them to share.

Thing is, this war had been going on since the 1800's. The Brothers Mann had invested in both the cutting edge of technology and the greatest mercenaries on Earth in order to both extend their lifespans and kill the other.

While doing so, both men hired a woman, The Administrator, to direct their forces. Playing both sides, The Administrator locked them into a stalemate to last several generations of assassins, manipulating the brother's fortunes and amusing herself with the unending bloodsport.

Now the thing is, the world of Team Fortress isn't quite the same as ours. Australia is the single most technologically advanced country, due to it being the only source of Australium in the world. A mineral that looks exactly like a bar of gold with a man punching a kangaroo on it, exposure to Australium turned even the biggest moron into an engineering genius with massive muscles, a big mustache, and bushy chest hair in the shape of Australia. It turned, in The Administrator's words, "a nation of idiots" into the most powerful force on the planet, and she used the Mann's fortunes in order to study it and used it to create their life-extending technology.

Speaking of idiots, the current crop of mercenaries are the most unstable and ridiculous batch yet. Nine of the dumbest, deadliest men in their history, all gathered to fight over what is by the 1960's a completely worthless plot of land.

Scout is a young American (specifically Boston) guy who can barely read, loves baseball enough to go to war with a bat, and was created by God to have sex with every woman on Earth. He's not very succesful in that regard. He has a crush on the Administrator's assistant, Miss Pauling. The middle child in a large family, he learned that the only way for him to ever get attention was to arrive first and be as loud and annoying as possible. He also has the amazing ability to defy physics and double jump.

Soldier is a rocket launcher using American soldier, who is heavily brain damaged due to drinking water filled with lead. He's paranoid, violent, and very stupid, but an incredible combatant and a master of rocket jumping, or the act of shooting your feet with a rocket and riding the blast upward. His roommate was the dark wizard Merasmus, who his team must battle every Halloween. He once fought a bear naked and covered in honey, and won. He also once put the whole team in mortal danger by creating a massive bread monster.

Pyro is a mask wearing pyromaniac who terrifies everyone else. Nobody knows who they are, what they're saying, or knows what they look like under the mask. Their teammates believe they are a monster and the most cruel being on Earth. Secretly, Pyro is literally unable to comprehend violence and sees the world through rainbow lens. Their axe is a big lollipop and their enemies are baby angels, and their flamethrower is a bubble blower, and they're playing around and making friends with everyone.

Heavy is a big Russian man with a bigger minigun. He's the most normal and well-adjusted of the mercs, being a fan of Russian literature, teddy bears, and good food. He is however, prone to temper tantrums and he enjoys danger a little too much. His best friend and constant partner is the Medic. His English is slightly broken, but nobody dares make fun of it in fear of their bones getting very broken. Later on the comics introduce his little sister, who's also a gigantic woman with an even greater dangerlust than he does. She gets engaged to the Soldier after they kill a few dozen men together with their bare hands. Heavy is not pleased.

Demoman is a black, Scottish explosives expert with only one eye. Despite being a raging alcoholic, he is shown to be the most succesful of the mercs, being extremely rich and housing his mother in a giant castle. He is however, a great shame to his family, who pride themselves on losing both their eyes in battle. Despite Demoman trying his best, he's simply too good a fighter to lose his other eye in combat, and his mother berates him for this daily. He's also very skilled with a sword and shield, and can build to be a melee fighter. He lost his missing eye after discovering the Bombnomicon, Merasmus' cursed spellbook, and enchanting his eye into a bomb spewing monster. His team does battle with his haunted eye every Halloween. He and Soldier used to be best friends, but suffered a bad breakup through The Administrator's manipulation.

Engineer is the grandson of the first man the Administrator dosed with Australium. A mechanical genius from Texas, his sentry guns, teleporters, dispensers, and occasional cyborg arm are often the biggest nuisances in the game. Like the Heavy, he's quite normal and well-adjusted, although maybe TOO well-adjusted to all the bullshit.

Medic is a quack doctor from Germany whose lack of morales is only matched by the sheer insanity of whatever the fuck he's up to. Having lost his medical license ages ago, he implanted his teammates with megababoon hearts in order for them to survive the steroids his medigun hits them with (which he calls ubercharge). He once sold his soul to the devil for a pen, and then scammed him in order to revive from death. He has a pet pigeon called Archimedes that he sometimes leaves inside his teammates' bodies. He keeps the severed heads of his enemies alive and inside his fridge, where they can talk to him and beg for death. He's very close with the Heavy.

Sniper is the one Australian who doesn't sport a giant mustache and a giant chest. An extremely professional assassin, he seems alright at first... Until you realize he makes bombs out of his pee. He's very focused on his job and may be a little paranoid; one of his personal rules is to have a plan to kill absolutely every single person he ever meets. He's also skilled with a bow, and likes to fight with kukri knives.

Spy is a Frenchman with the amazing ability to shapeshift and perfectly imitate anyone's appearance, voice and mannerisms. Able to kill with a single backstab, his disguises and invisibility cloak allow him to infiltrate the enemy base and take them out from the inside. He likes to think of himself as above his teammates's bullshit, but really he's one of them in every single way. He once taught Scout how to romance a woman, after Scout begged him for help since his only pickup line was "Hey we both got buckets of chicken, wanna do it?" but it went disastrously. His relationship with Scout in general is weird since he once fucked Scout's mother. He later realizes that he may in fact be Scout's father. Knowing that Scout would both never accept him and that he had no right to call himself that, he also disguised himself as Scout's idol Tom Jones in order to comfort Scout as the younger man lay dying, while telling Scout about how he had dropped a Sex Bomb on his mother. When Scout went to heaven, the angels helped preserve the lie by snapping the real Tom Jones' neck just as Scout was about to meet him. In heaven. Since the real Tom Jones was dead. To Spy's chagrin, God raised Scout back from the dead.

There's a lot more - I haven't even touched on the third Mann Brother or Saxton Hale or Miss Pauling yet - but this should be the general gist of TF2.

#TF2 #long post

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just-some-gt-trash · 4 years

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Small Secrets Part 1 (Dorian’s POV)

AN: Hey! This is a new au I’ve been working on, be sure to check the ask blog @smallsecrets-sanderssidesau for new updates!

TW: tagged for not spoilers!

Dorian walked through the hallway of the building, heading to his boyfriend's apartment, this was only their first month anniversary, he played nervously with the bow tie around his neck, Patton said it wasn't anything formal but he had put it on just to contrast with what he thought was his way too casual outfit, which was just a pale yellow t-shirt with black jeans.

He was nervous to say the least, most of his relationship didn't end well, and he has become too attached to Patton in the las month, but he was sure Patton had too.

He arrived to Patton’s apartment and knocked on the door, adjusting his bow tie once more before his boyfriend opened, he looked at him with a smile “Dee” he said leaning to give Dorian a quick kiss in the lips “You’re here early”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to arrive late, is that a problem?”

“Of course not hun, come in” Said Patton as he moved to let his boyfriend into the apartment.

Dorian entered looking around as Patton closed the door behind them “what’s with all the boxes?” He asked, as the living room was practically full with them.

“Oh, that’s actually part of what I wanted to talk about” answered Patton “Can you help me to put the table?”

“Of course” Dee followed Patton to the kitchen, it was in the same state as the living room, Patton handed him two plates and some silverware and he accommodated them in the table on the dining room, Patton took the lasagna out of the oven and placed it in the center of the table, serving a portion for both of them, Dorian pulled the chair so his boyfriend could sit.

Patton giggled and sat “Thanks hun” he said smiling.

Dorian returned the smile did and sat in front of him and started eating “so, are you going to explain the cardboard box invasion in your house?” He said smirking.

“Yep” Patton managed to answer while he finished chewing his food “I’m going to move”

Dorian’s eyes went wide “move? To another apartment?”

Patton shook his head “I’m moving to Florida”

The shock almost made the food to get stuck on Dorian's throat, he coughed a couple of times before speaking again ”F-Florida? Isn't that like 6 hours away?”

Patton sighed and nodded ”Since I got fired from my work here, I've been having troubles with the rent, it was the best option if I didn't want to be kicked out”

”You could always stay with me hun”

”Oh, no no, I don't want to be a nuisance, besides I have family there, they're going to help me find a job and that”

”You know you'll never be a nuisance” Dorian said, he had stopped eating and reached to grab his boyfriend's hands while looking at him ”But if that's what you've decided, what does that mean to us?”

Patton looked down at his hands and smiled, intertwining his fingers with Dorian's ”nothing has to change between us” he said, looking up at the other's eyes ”we'll make it work, but there's another thing I have to tell you”

The way Patton rubbed Dorian's hands indicated he was nervous, he rubbed them back and nodded to affirm it was fine.

Patton took a deep breath and finally spoke ”I'm polyamorous”

If Dee's eyes weren't opened as much as they could be already, they definitely were now, he was clearly not expecting that and the news left him speechless for a couple of seconds.

Only his boyfriend's voice got him out of his thoughts ”Dee?” he said, Dorian looked at his eyes once more ”I-I know that this can be a lot to process, a-and if you want to leave me i-it’s okay I-I unde-“

“Patton” said Dorian, cutting the other’s rambling, Patton was never this nervous and he could see that this is something that made him a lot worried, scared even, Dorian knew a lot of people where bothered or even disgusted by polyamorous people, and he could only assume not all of Patton’s boyfriends have reacted well to it, but Dorian didn’t mind it at all “I’m not going to break up with you, this is a part of who you are and it shouldn’t be a reason for me to leave you”

Patton smiled slightly “you really mean that?”

Dorian returned the smile and nodded “I do”

His boyfriend’s smile grew wide, he stood up and leaned across the table to reach Dorian’s lips, kissing him passionately for a couple of seconds before pulling apart “I’m so thankful you’re my boyfriend” he said while still smiling.

“I could say the same” said Dorian, leaning and pulling Patton into other short kiss.

Patton was a bout to sit down again once they stopped kissing but he noticed their glasses were empty “How forgetful of mine, I didn’t even gave you some water, what can I get you?” He asked, picking up the glasses.

“Water’s fine hun”

Patton nodded and went to the kitchen, leaving Dee alone with his thoughts, he started wondering if Patton had other boyfriends already, he knew he had moved a lot so maybe he had mates al over the country, and now he was exaggerating, but Patton could find another boyfriend while he was in Florida, would he forget about him? What if that’s what happened with his other boyfriends? Maybe he promised to keep contact with them but eventually met someone and stopped replying, exaggerating again Dorian.

He took a deep breath, he could ask everything to Patton after dinner, they would most likely cuddle with a movie in the background like on every date on Dorian’s house.

“I’m back” said Patton cheerfully as he sat back on his place, he left the glasses full of water on the table.

Dorian smiled and took a sip from his glass.

They finished dinner half an hour or so after their conversation, Patton gathered the empty plates and glasses and left them in the sink, Dorian stood up while Patton returned, both of them were ready to cuddle, Patton gave his boyfriend a smile and extended his hand for him to take it, Dorian returned the smile and reached to grab the offered hand, just to fall straight gay into Patton’s arms.

“B-babe are you okay?” He asked trying to keep his balance, he walked to the sofa carrying Dee with him.

“I-I don’t know, I just... felt dizzy all of sudden” Dorian said while he grabbed the couch behind him and leaned on it to avoid tripping again or make either of them fall.

“Do you need something? I can bring you another cup of water or-“

“No no” interrupted Dorian “I’m fine... I-I just need to lay down for a...” he tried to say, but the whole room started spinning around him “f-for a bit” he said, before fainting on the couch.

Dorian opened his eyes, his head hurt a bit and his mind was fuzzy from before, but at least the room was not moving anymore, he sat on the bed he was on and looked around, he could only assume it was Patton’s room, but it didn’t matched him, it was decorated in shades of yellow and black, there was an almost empty bookshelf except for a couple of books that Dorian recognised because he had recommended them to Patton, the rest of the room was empty.

He stood up and walked to the door, he wanted to let Patton know he was awake, he tried to open it but he couldn’t, he tried again with more strength but it seemed it was locked, weird.

He was about to scream his boyfriend’s name when the room started moving again, but this time it wasn’t spinning, it felt more like an earthquake, multiple little earthquakes that seemed to get stronger every time, then they stopped, Dorian headed to the window to see what had happened on the street, instead there was a giant eye looking back at him from outside, then the room started moving again and the wall with the window opened to reveal a giant smiling face, Patton’s giant smiling face.

“I’m glad you’re awake, I brought you food” he said giggling and leaving a small (gigantic to Dee) plate on the room’s floor “I know it seems like you just had dinner, but you were asleep for almost three days, you need to eat something hun”

Dorian was petrified, he almost fainted again, he leaned on the opposite wall starring at Patton with eyes full of fear, despite this he managed to talk “P-Patton why w-what what is going on?” Or something like that.

His giant boyfriend giggled a bit more “You’re going to Florida with me hun” he reached into the small room to pick Dorian up who ran to the other side of the room at the sight of the giant hand, which was useless because Patton caught him either way “But I couldn’t take you at your normal size, I had to be practical and this way is much easier to be together” he said bringing his shrunken boyfriend close to his face and giving him a kiss on his forehead.

Dee tried to lean away from the touch and Patton’s lips, again without success, he was trapped in Patton’s hand, completely helpless “w-why did you do this?” He asked, trying to hold back the tears.

“Well” Patton petted Dorian’s head “I was afraid you will run away like the others just as you heard my biggest secret, but you didn’t, which means you really love me, and I wasn’t going to let distance separate us”

Dorian was pressed against Patton’s chest, he leaned on it, it felt like a hug, but Dee didn’t know if he wanted a hug from Patton, he had somehow shrunk him and planned to keep him on what appeared to be a dollhouse, and now just acted like they could still have a normal relationship, he fought against the tears, he didn’t want Patton to see him cry now.

Patton’s phone started to ring and he picked it up “sorry hun I have to leave you, but I’ll leave the door unlocked so you can walk around your new home” Patton got his hand into he dollhouse and did something to the door, now Dee could see the dollhouse, it was very big and it seemed like each room had a door to open them and play with the dolls inside, because only the room where he was before was exposed, the rest was closed “there, and promise me you’ll eat something” he said leaving Dorian back in the room “I’ll be back shortly” he finally said, closing the room and leaving his shrunken boyfriend alone, who could finally let himself cry.

#sanders sides gt #infinitesimal!sides #sanders sides au #sanders sides #tw fainting #tw kidnapping #tw drugged #moceit #ts patton #tw deceit #ts deceit #patton sanders #deceit sanders #shrunken!deceit #tw psychopath #psychopath!patton #tw panic attack #tw crying #unsympathetic patton

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iniquity-fr · 5 years

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i said i would elaborate on my thoughts/lore i guess re: dragons n shapeshifted (humanoid) forms and like.. social rules and whatnot around all that.... and then i wrote a ridiculous amount of notes abt the whole thing, oops.

separated into key sections but still very rambly and stream-of-thought overall, bc, when do i not type..... weird. words are eternally difficult for me and thoughts are a struggle to articulate, but i hope any of this.. makes sense? obviously this is largely abt my own clan/dragons/headspace/etc and not like. headcanons about other ppl’s stuff in general or anything like that haha. this is a LOT to read thru so if u actually go thru the whole thing a) wow thank u so much wtf b) perhaps give it a like so i know how u feel. not required but very very appreciated. :^) also deep apology to anyone for whom the read more breaks or something, oh god.

a tl;dr/basic overview

everyone can shift to humanoid/gijinka/person-shaped forms, differing based on their actual look as a dragon

most day-to-day life within the clan is in shifted forms, partly bc of Convenience, partly bc there’s a lot of Social Rules abt being on relatively equal footing w/ one another and keeping things fair and whatnot

using your dragon form to hurt not-dragon form people or even using it to harm smaller dragons is considered a terrible crime, and harming others while they’re mid-transformation is considered the ultimate taboo.

shifting 101:

everybody can shift between dragon/humanoid (gijinka.. however u wanna word this.... yall know what i Mean) form w/ different results--some more dragon-looking and/or generally monstrous, some looking fairly normal/basically like People, But In Rainbow Colors And With Horns. some may keep tails and/or wings or other things like that, but that isn’t especially common

smaller breeds tend to be shorter, bigger breeds tend to be taller, but there are exceptions & outliers!

shifted forms tend to be pretty 'set' for most dragons, all obviously dependent on their looks as an actual dragon. their shifted form reflects their dragon form, and they can't make drastic changes to their form like changing entire facial structure/shape or body type or overall coloring. however, dragons with stronger magic abilities/connections/powers/etc usually tend to have more freedom of their own form and may be able to change certain features at will--not entire faces or body shapes, but things like hair, nails, sometimes even patterns from genes (esp. tert genes)

dragons that are like, deity level or otherwise some sort of not-entirely/not-actually-a-dragon all-powerful creature or w/e usually have MUCH more freedom to change their form completely, if they so choose.

transformation is at will (and cant be done or undone unconsciously... ie a sleeping-in-shifted-form person is Not gonna turn back into dragon form in their sleep) and happens fairly quick for most, usually no long&slow weird animorph-esque thing, though it isn't all in a flash either--usually! once again on the "dragons with More/Better Magic Skillz" concept, a very magic-powerful dragon can usually shift much quicker than others. a "finger snap puff of smoke boom you're done" level of speed is Very Rare, but not unheard of. dragons who are either very young or simply not very talented w/ magic may take longer than others. the largest & smallest breeds also take a bit longer due to having to shrink down/size up every time. all this said, it never takes more than like, 15-20 seconds at Most, and even that range is considered Very Slow. it’s a short window, generally!

things like injury or sickness can make shifting difficult, but typically only like........... basically if you're literally dying you're probably not gonna be able to do it. having a broken leg or the flu shouldn't impact ability much, but bleeding out in the boneyard? ain't gonna make it work, buddy.

idk how clothes work lmfao. they just shift with the dragon i guess? sure. let's go with that. all clothes are magic now. i don't think EVERYTHING through, ok?

ok cool but Why Shift:

shifted forms make for much easier living-together-in-a-big-clan, especially in situations (like my own clan itself) where everyone lives in, y'know, buildings. houses and castles and churches and whatnot. it takes a lot more effort and resources and whatnot to build a house big enough for imperials to comfortably live in in dragon form than it does to just build a regular-sized house that a spiral & a ridgeback both can settle into & live comfortably in in shifted form or smth, yknow. it’s easier to accommodate people than dragons!

communication & relationships can also be easier to deal with if you are all Relatively Close to the same size range. less leaning down or flying up to try and talk to your friend/coworker/partner/rival/whatever. part of this is also influenced by The Rules About Being On An Even Playing Field We Will Get To In A Moment

for many dragons its just easier to do things like art, music, crafting, writing, or working w/ small & delicate things, etc etc when you have proper hands and lot funky dragon claws. much of the more mundane reasons for these forms is just For Convenience's Sake!

that said, obvs. certain things are easier/preferred to stay in dragon form to do--traveling, for one, since, y'know, Dragons Can Fly, Usually. hunting & gathering is usually done in dragon form as well, though not 100% of the time. maybe u want to be a big and powerful dragon to go take down wild animals for food but just like, chill out w ur buds in person-shape to go have a relaxing fishing trip by the lake. it's up 2 u really.

sometimes dragon forms are preferred for fighting in general, esp against beasts, or if you are a lone dragon trying to protect yourself from threats, etc. in the case of smaller breeds especially, they can also be preferred for making a quick escape instead! (sometimes this is seen as Cowardly to do, but yknow, it’s an Option.)

aaaaaaand now we can get to The Rules which is where things become less abt convenience & common sense and more about my own........... we can call it lore? i guess? sure. it's lore. ok.

The Rules:

all the "for convenience" reasons aside, there are many largely unspoken but VERY important social rules regarding shifting and when you "should" or "should not" be in which form. within my clan/characters/headspace/etc etc it's all just sort of a known thing/smth ur raised knowing, there isn't like, an actual rulebook or smth anyone has to figure out.

much of these rules are about being on an equal playing field, both socially & in battle. the social rules are much more important & strict within clan living areas, ie. the walls of cities and whatnot. things can get more loose & informal if ur like, out travelling thru the wasteland or wilds or whatever.

it's considered VERY rude to enter/generally be inside buildings in dragon form, usually, unless you're just like... popping in real quick to deliver smth or say hi or whatever.. and you can fit inside said building... and know the ppl there and whatnot... etc...... if you dragon out while already inside somewhere that's usually seen as like, a threat of some sort. due to how much construction & architecture & living spaces are shaped and whatnot, it's deemed unnecessary to bother with dragon forms inside the clan's walls in general, but especially within buildings, bc jesus christ dude ur gonna hit the ceiling or break stuff with your wings or something. be polite.

social interaction in general, esp. when Formal or in work/work-like settings, is seen as something usually meant more for shifted forms... some dragons who are very close, ie family & mates, can be fine in dragon form around each other, bc of the mix of informality & Trust. typically, if you want to have a conversation with someone and Not be seen as impolite or even hostile, shifted form is key. this falls back very much to the fact that dragons come in such VASTLY different sizes, from imps down to faes, and it's seen as unfair and often threatening to present oneself as a giant monster to whom others have to talk to, or as a tiny little creature either down on the floor or flitting around the room. shifted forms have about as much height/size variance as we do as humans, which can be A Lot, and some individuals can be even smaller or bigger than regular people bc Hey Its Fantasy, but generally speaking no People-Shaped height difference is going to be as crazy as dragons' can be.

basically, if you walk into the throne room or the church or anywhere Important & Protected and you're not in shifted form, you WILL be seen as either physically threatening the leadership or as an extremely arrogant & disrespectful fool. walking into shops/businesses in general as a dragon makes you look like you're trying to like, rob the place or smth. even just moving about the streets of the town as a dragon is weird, rude, and will make people uneasy. not to mention it’s potentially destructive!

everything comes back to the idea of being relatively similar in size/shape, in being close enough to equal in ability, strength, weakness, etc, barring the obvious difference that yes some people are stronger/more trained than others, some better at magic, etc etc. it's all about fairness!

this is all MOST IMPORTANT when it comes to FIGHTING........ bc obviously a very large dragon can just squish the bones of a very tiny dragon like nothing...... things like formal duels etc everyone knows OF COURSE this meant for shifted form, it's just an inherently known thing. if u fight with honor u fight shifted.

this even extends to the point that outside city walls, if someone's going to pick a fight with you, you Should still be duking it out in shifted form. it's such an important & revered rule that it's even usual for bandits and such out on the roads to attack travelers while in their own shifted forms. only the worst of all criminals cross the line--from the average petty thief & pickpocket up to professional hitmen and honorable assassins, it's rare to see even career rulebreakers break these rules. it’s That Serious

using your dragon form to attack someone who's shifted is seen as like, a completely horrifying and heinous thing to do, a sign of true cruelty and mercilessness. using your dragon form to escape from people is often seen as a cowardly and weak thing to do, unless ofc ur just like, small and afraid and get fuckin jumped by some big tuff dudes, yknow. being in a real & honorable battle means fighting in your shifted form.

the Ultimate Taboo however is hurting--especially killing--someone while they're mid-transformation, due to the fact that the process--while, as stated previously, is Very Short--leaves someone completely vulnerable and unable to defend themselves. transformation takes focus and action, and you can't really attack or dodge or anything while changing from form to form. the strength and speed and complete lack of hesitation required to end someone's life in the small window of time that it takes to shift is a terrifying thing to behold. killing someone midshift while in your own shifted form is especially weird & scary and means everyone is going to be afraid of you forever, basically, because. dude. holy fuck. how & WHY did you do that.

obviously the Normal reaction that Nice & Good dragons feel knowing someone who has crossed that particular line is, yknow, fear and resentment and seeing them as someone who is heartless and completely evil and terrible. to be avoided at all costs, if not outright arrested and executed for such a thing, in other places where ppl are like. ultimately good & caring abt one another and whatnot. but that ain't my clan babey!

aaaaaand finally a wrap-up w a lil bit abt my clan full of shitty devil babies and how these rules impact their lives hehehe

though the clan is VERY strict abt the larger social rules regarding shifted forms vs. dragon forms, thats more for formality's sake & a part of the clan's entire thing of being like........... full of/ruled by morally bankrupt weirdos and villains and chaotic neutrals mostly And Yet all putting on the show & appearance of being honorable high-status nobles & academics and whatnot. among the court in particular it's all Very Important bc everyone has to behave like stuffy uptight formal folk very often. also their section of the clan home is like, a very compact city w/ narrow streets and stuff, so obviously no one Can just. walk around as a big giant dragon.

a few examples of dragons Breaking The Rules in more 'minor' ways include: -outlaw, who has absolutely 0 issue using the small size of his spiral form to break into houses & businesses and steal shit, or using it to slip away from authority figures and zip off and fly outta there. or to just be able to hide from authorities more easily. -fissure, one of the kings, a guardian, will occasionally use his dragon form as a threat display if anyone shows too much hostility towards his clan. threaten him and his people and he WILL threaten you back big time. -silhouette, royal guard captain, also a guardian, will do the same thing, though she reserves that for people found along the outskirts of the city walls. -sepulcher takes things the other way around--he enjoys the challenge of fighting&killing things 100x his size and if a dragon tries to harm him when he's in his shifted form he gets VERY excited!!!!!

the 2 worst culprits confirmed so far are the high priest, leader of the clan, scary rotten plague cult wyrmwound-worshipping bastard himself, fhtagn......... and the friendly, chatty, fashionable tailor, needle.

the skull mask fhtagn wears is fashioned from the skull of a half-transformed dragon. to have not only crossed the line of killing a dragon mid-shift but to wear a part of them as one's most striking attire that they're never seen without is a truly terrifying sight to behold for most... those of kinder hearts than this clan would see him for the disgusting & dishonorable bastard he is because of that alone, but the clan members--especially the church, of course--revere him for this. fear & horror go hand in hand with love & adoration among the congregation, so of course they love their mercilessly masked priest.

needle does not allow too many people to get a good look at his "trophy room" but it is... certainly something to behold. stitched & stuffed bodies of people killed mid-shift make up his favorite taxidermy collection, and he likes to think of this as.. some form of art. though very private about it, he's still fiercely proud of his collection. go out and bring him such a body yourself for him to work on and he'll love you forever!

anyway that’s it for now. this post is fucking long. i never write this much what fucking possessed me.

if u made it this far i wuv u. thank u :’)

#cool lore tag #i uhhhh dont rly................... want to put this in main tags i dont think haha its a Lot of Words #i never type words in ways that rly make sense to begin w but any excess of typos/grammar errors etc u can blame on #the fever ive had all morning hehehehe #also i typed all this out and then didnt really do any like. editing/correction LOL OOPS #ANYWAY HERE'S ALL THIS. I REALLY REALLY REALLY HOPE IT MAKES SENSE HAHAHAHA #long post

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pbwsports · 4 years

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Driveways, canyons, pools: NFL players create clever workouts

A farm. A field. A canyon. A pool. Even a driveway. As NFL players wait for a return to normalcy before the 2020 regular season begins, they have had to get creative with how and where they train.

The ripple effects of these unprecedented times -- nationwide social distancing during the coronavirus pandemic and an unknown timetable for a vaccine --have altered the professional sports landscape, and the NFL is no exception.

NFL commissioner Roger Goodell authorized the reopening of all team facilities this week, in accordance with state and local regulations, although coaches and players who are not undergoing rehabilitation are prohibited from entering team buildings. While a handful of clubs took advantage of this allowance, states such as New York, New Jersey, Massachusetts, Virginia, Michigan, Illinois, Washington and California are still imposing heavier restrictions that affect a dozen team facilities.

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These inconsistent regulations have also changed the responsibilities of NFL strength trainers, who have spent time remotely assessing the workout needs of players, including their access to resources, as well as acting as liaisons for online equipment purchases. NFL teams were permitted to provide each player with up to $1,500 worth of workout equipment. Nevertheless, players have had to find inventive ways to stay in shape.

Minnesota Vikings quarterback Kirk Cousins uses his parents' driveway as his outdoor gym. New York Giants wide receiver Golden Tate mowed a track into a steep canyon near his home. Pittsburgh Steelers wide receiver James Washington designed a training regimen on his Texas farm. New Orleans Saintslinebacker Demario Davis has his personal trainers living with him. Giants linebacker Blake Martinez became the beneficiary of a state-of-the-art gym. And Cleveland Browns punter Jamie Gillan grabbed some beers and built a "grubby" garage gym.

Even though players' locations, living situations and resources differ, there's a lesson shared by all: There are no excuses.

Big-money quarterback staying with parents

The playful jab is uttered without warning, hurled from the driver's side of a passing vehicle.

"Go Pack, go!"

And in that moment of lighthearted jest, Kirk Cousins can only ignore it. He knows the stop sign in front of the house makes him a sitting duck every morning.

Four times a week, starting promptly at 9 a.m., the Vikings quarterback gathers equipment from the garage and arranges it neatly on the long, curved pavement leading from his parents' house to the sidewalk. Resting on a wooden chair is his laptop, connected by videoconference to his longtime personal trainer, Chad Cook, who is 450 miles away in Atlanta. This is a glimpse into what constitutes the 2020 NFL offseason.

2020 NFL offseason

"I like my privacy, so being out in the driveway, on display for the whole neighborhood to see is probably less than ideal. But desperate times call for desperate measures," Cousins said with a smile during a recent ESPN interview. "If it means a guy drives by in a truck and yells, 'Go Pack, go!' at me while we're working out, then so be it."

The manicured lawns of this Orlando, Florida, suburb serve as a backdrop to Cousins' regimen and his attempt at normalcy in the midst of the coronavirus pandemic.

It's not a "home gym" by any means, Cousins concedes, but he insists he has everything he needs: a medicine ball, jump-rope, foam rollers, free weights and a football. And, the most essential tool of all: the laptop he uses to connect with Cook.

"[Every car will] see me doing my shuffles across the driveway, or my cariocas, or doing the jump-rope or different plank exercises, core work, medicine ball, lunges -- whatever it may be. And different people honk or wave, so it's kind of fun," said Cousins, who signed a two-year, $66 million extension with the Vikings in March.

Spotty Wi-Fi is a challenge when working out outdoors, but sheltering in place with his parents was by design: The nine-year veteran and his wife, Julie, now have plenty of reinforcements when it comes to taking care of their sons, Cooper, 2½, and Turner, 1.

"I kind of laugh when I talk about having two like I have 10," Cousins joked, "because compared to other guys in the league who have three, four, five, six kids, having two is not a big deal."

Dealing with this adversity has reaffirmed his commitment to his craft. It also taught him that the Public Broadcasting Service can be a football player's, as well as a father's, best friend: "'Daniel Tiger['s Neighborhood]' on PBS can be a lifesaver."

'Strict training mode' means living with trainers

The plan was to be in Nashville, Tennessee, for a month, but Demario Davis' offseason residence has become his permanent dwelling during the pandemic. His 7,500-square-foot house, purchased last offseason, is a saving grace of sorts, equipped with enough room for his wife, Tamela, and their four children under the age of 6.

And his two personal trainers.

Davis' trainers, Jose Tienda and Piankhi Gibson, typically work with him in two-to-three-week "strict training mode" spurts before heading back to their respective homes. They'll return to Nashville soon for another extended stay with Davis.

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As the 31-year-old enters his ninth NFL season -- and the final year of his contract -- he is determined not to lose ground to a youngster who might be aiming for his spot.

Mid-morning acupuncture and soft tissue work with Tienda give way to afternoon aqua training in a neighbor's pool with Gibson. Davis pauses for dinner and to help put the kids to bed. But before long, he's headed back for more body work. He crawls into bed around 12:30 or 1 a.m. on those rigorous training days.

With Louisiana still reeling from 35,316 confirmed COVID-19 cases (and 2,485 reported deaths) as of Thursday, Davis wasn't surprised Saints coach Sean Payton -- who was the first known NFL figure to test positive for the coronavirus -- announced there would not be virtual workouts, meetings or workout sessions at the team facility.

"The virtual offseason really wouldn't have fit the flow of how we operate down there," the veteran linebacker said of the Saints, who have one of the oldest rosters in the NFL. "We don't have a young team. ... He knew with our experience level, the strong leaders we have at each position, that we'd get it done as far as training."

While Davis is eager to play, he said he won't waste time guessing when the season will start.

"The pandemic don't know nothing about football season. The virus ain't just like, 'Oh, football season's coming, let me chill out,'" he said with a laugh. "So I'm going to train and stay in shape because that's just a philosophy of mine -- you stay ready at all times. But I think it's a discredit to people who are on the front lines working, and the people who are being affected by it, when we're just thinking about how fast we can get back to sports."

'Grubby little gym' becomes labor of love

The police officers approached without warning.

Jamie Gillan had been punting on a turf field almost an hour away from his Tremont, Ohio, residence, completely unaware of the state's shelter-in-place orders. With nonessential businesses closed, the Browns punter -- nicknamed "The Scottish Hammer" -- had used local fields to practice his kicking drills. That is, until he was no longer allowed.

"[The officers] were like, 'Yeah man, we want to let you punt. We love the Browns and everything, but it's just the rules,'" the Scotland-born special-teamer explained in his thick brogue.

Faced with the prospect of quarantining alone, Gillan chose to go be with family.

He made trips to the liquor store and the supermarket -- packing his truck with several bottles of bourbon for his father, "120 eggs and 16 racks of bacon" -- and then he and his German shepherd named Bear traveled seven hours to southern Maryland to stay with his parents and 19-year-old sister.

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The rural area around his parents' house affords him space to practice his booming kicks, and there's a "massive" field, owned by a friend, which Gillan uses, too. But the self-described "workout junkie" had to get creative with strength training. Soon his parents' garage became his gym.

Unable to buy equipment online because of limited inventory and "skyrocketing" prices, Gillan purchased old equipment from a local high school: barbells, bumper plates, 40-, 80- and 100-pound dumbbells and bands. He purchased rubber matting from a local tractor store.

He searched Facebook Marketplace for a squat rack, but he and his father, Colin, who is a former rugby player and member of the United Kingdom's Royal Air Force, came up with a better solution -- they would construct their own.

"We came back [from Lowe's], cracked open some beers and just started building it," Gillan said with a chuckle. Even with old, rusty weights, his "grubby little gym" was everything he needed.

Gillan said his resourcefulness was forged during four years playing at Arkansas-Pine Bluff, a historically black university. During offseasons when he and his teammates didn't have access to the gym, their surroundings became their workout room. They bench-pressed and squatted logs, they did dips and pullups on metal bars at local parks, and Gillan hopped fences to punt on neighboring fields when access to their football field was prohibited.

"One thing I notice about a lot of historically black colleges is they're very underfunded," Gillan said, stressing that he and other student-athletes had to be creative. "Maybe it got me prepared for this weird period."

State-of-the-art amenities ease the transition

Blake Martinez's father, Marc, had a master plan: purchase a plot of land 15 minutes from the family home in Tucson, Arizona, and build a facility for his son to train and live. It didn't take long for the idea to become Martinez's reality.

The linebacker thanks his father every day for his ingenuity, as well as his construction company.

The 18,000-square-foot facility -- conceptualized and built last year -- "has everything a football player would need," said Martinez, a 2016 fourth-round draft pick by the Green Bay Packers who signed a three-year, $30 million free-agent contract with the Giants in March.

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The warehouse-looking steel structure contains "a miniature version of a college weight room," a full-length basketball court, a 30-by-15-yard turf field and an outdoor sand volleyball court. It also doubles as a residence, with three bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen on the second level for him, his wife, Kristy, and their young daughter.

"It kept getting better and better as it kept getting built," Martinez said. He works out for two hours in person with his longtime trainer, Glenn Howell, four times a week.

But familiarity with his new franchise is a luxury Martinez, 26, doesn't have.

With New York and New Jersey being one of the epicenters of the coronavirus outbreak in the United States, Martinez doesn't know when he'll be able to travel to the facility or even meet members of the Giants organization for the first time.

"It's not like I've been on the team for a while and I know the guys already. So, it's been tough in that aspect, connecting with guys," he said.

Martinez said the pandemic has taught him "I literally have zero excuses not to show up the first day and make sure I'm 100 percent ready to go and help push all of the younger guys to that level if they haven't gotten there yet."

Making use of California canyons

Golden Tate's stunning San Diego views come at a price.

"I've just got to watch out for rattlesnakes," the Giants wide receiver said with a laugh.

When stay-at-home orders were issued in California in mid-March, Tate took advantage of his surroundings -- namely, the canyon his house is built on.

"It's not the best condition to be running in," admitted the 11-year NFL player, who mowed a 7-by-40-yard patch of grass on a steep incline. "But it'll suffice right now. It's better than doing nothing."

Team work makes the dream work! Uncle @tatethagreat & LoLo helping me get my daily catches in. Hope everyone has a great Friday! #FamilyFriday

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Tate, a married father of two small kids, purchased PowerBlock dumbbells and a Jugs machine from which he catches about 100 balls a day. He bikes at home on his Peloton and uses mountain bike trails for his aerobic conditioning. But finding a flat surface for route running has been a challenge. So, too, is self-discipline.

"Over my career, I'm so used to having someone -- an instructor or the guys around me -- push me. And right now, I'm forced to push myself," said Tate, who turns 32 on Aug. 2.

The veteran receiver played through the 2011 NFL lockout, but he said the coronavirus pandemic is unlike anything he has experienced.

"I feel bad for the first-, second-, third- and fourth-round guys who are expected to come in and help the team right away, but they're not having the same opportunity to grow as a player, not getting those reps on the field," he said.

"The offseason is when you have the time to really focus on the fundamentals of the game, the bigger picture and the details of the game. And it looks like right now we're going to show up for camp -- if we show up for camp -- in the middle of the fire of trying to figure out who's going to make the team and trying to get ready for a season. That can be overwhelming."

Strengths trainers turned investigators

With their players scattered across the country, NFL strength and conditioning coaches feel more like part-time sleuths and office managers than in-person trainers.

"We kind of went more into equipment sales and trying to be a liaison to help guys get set up and make sure they're doing the right thing," said Justus Galac, now in his seventh year as the New York Jets' head strength and conditioning coach. "What we found was, guys in the Southern states and more into the Midwest had more access than our guys in the Northeast and West Coast."

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Danny Amendola impresses with some nifty, one-handed catches while working out with a helmet on in his backyard.

Strength trainers have been tasked with identifying what their players need from a performance standpoint to achieve their fitness goals, regardless of where they live and what resources they have access to. "Even though they might have access to a Steak 'n Shake parking lot or they might be in a third floor of an apartment," said Justin Lovett, the Los Angeles Rams' new head strength and conditioning coach.

Lovett was hired in the midst of California's coronavirus shutdown, but unlike during the 2011 lockout year, when he was on the Denver Broncos' staff, communication is permitted and has proved paramount. But there have been challenges.

"The biggest problem with the rookie class is they don't have the money that some of the older guys do," Galac said. "Not saying millions of dollars, but able to go buy equipment, pay for a trainer to take care of them, buying more food that you may normally not have to buy because the facility provides it. All those little things are adding up for these guys. And the rookies, they have no idea. And it's not their fault."

This time of year is crucial for strength staffs, not only for getting players in shape but also for getting new players up to speed with their programs. "And we've lost that," Galac said.

In fact, the Jets' weight room underwent a face-lift this offseason, complete with a new floor, turf accents and equipment. "And nobody's using it," Galac said. "It's sitting empty. The players haven't even seen it yet."

Finding space and serenity in the countryside

James Washington misses football. And, occasionally, his farm.

The 26-acre property the Steelers wide receiver purchased near his hometown of Abilene, Texas, made it easy for him to comply with social distancing rules. It also afforded him space to work out and keep in shape by way of chores. Washington, who was an agribusiness major with a concentration in farm and ranch management at Oklahoma State, finds the countryside calming. He enjoys the views of passing cars, wheat fields and cattle pastures during his eight- to 12-mile rides on his recently purchased bicycle.

His workout setup, which included an assortment of resistance bands sent by the Steelers and his high school dumbbells retrieved from his parents' house, was complete with the arrival of a Jugs machine, which he kept in the barn and carried to a flat area in one of the pastures.

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However, staving off boredom is a challenge whenever he's in Pittsburgh, a more crowded city with fewer options for keeping busy.

"When I was in Texas, I'd work out, do my virtual [team] meetings and then I'd have to find something to do cause I can't just sit in the house," Washington said last week, after he, JuJu Smith-Schuster and fellow receiver Ryan Switzer worked out in quarterback Ben Roethlisberger's home weight room. "Being on the farm really helped me a lot, because there was always something that could have been done."

Washington loves his farm so much his recent stay in Pittsburgh was short-lived. He returned to Texas on Wednesday to celebrate Memorial Day weekend with family and tend to his most recent purchase: cattle. The time away from the Steelers' facility has also given Washington time to think.

"It just doesn't feel right," he said. "Everybody feels like we should be at the facility, doing physical stuff, getting ready to go. ... Even if there's no fans, we still have to go out there and just go 110 percent, even if it would feel weird. Fans help make the game. It's really crazy to think about.

"Just being away from things, you really find out how much you miss the sport. It sucks. That's really what I figured out. That I love football." Source - ESPN

#nfl

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i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend · 5 years

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Queer Eye for the Cap Guy - Part 2

A/N: Hello my darling lovelies. So I can’t contain myself so I yet again sit on a throne of lies saying that I’d finish this whole thing before I published. I just can’t wait to share it with you. Right now, my plan is to update once a week on Sunday Nights/Monday Mornings. Fingers crossed I can keep up the pace. For now. i hope you enjoy. And I hope you all have a great week.

Story Summary: Bobby takes Steve shopping to figure out his taste. Who knew furniture could cause feelings?

Rating: K+

Warnings: Some angst and Sadness. Mentions of deceased family members, i think that’s it.

Word Count: 950

“I know when we talked at the apartment, you said that you didn’t really know what you wanted to see in your home style wise, so I wanted to walk you through your options so I can get a direction for the design.”

“Where do we start?” Steve asked, trying to stifle how overwhelmed he felt.

“Living room furniture.”

“Lead the way.”

“As we’re walking if you see anything that you love or something you hate just let me know.”

“Got it.”

“Don’t worry. We’re going to take it room by room. Nice and easy. I’m not asking for specific decisions, just a vibe.”

The super soldier offered a sheepish smile. He had immediately started scanning the room as they walked, keen eyes taking in each piece and assessing it the same way he would an enemy on a battlefield.

“So let’s talk a little bit about how you want the space to function,” Bobby prompted as they ambled through the aisles, wanting to diffuse the tension clearly growing in Steve. “What would you like to set aside space for?”

“I definitely want a space for my art. And my motorcycle. I love working on it. Especially with Bucky.”

“Okay, good to know. And I know you love the roof.”

“Yes, that’s my safe spot. It’s where I can go to just think. I’ve always liked being outside up high,” he admitted. “Used to scare the heart out of my Ma when I’d swing back in through the window from the fire escape. Always thought I was a burglar. She nearly clobbered me with a cast iron skillet one night,” he chuckled.

Bobby couldn’t help but study him as his eyes glazed slightly as a hundred year old memory washed over him.

“Of course, she also had my hide because I was apt to catch pneumonia that way.”

“She sounds like one fierce woman.”

“Absolutely,” he agreed fondly, focusing back on the present. “One of the strongest women I’ve ever known. I think I miss her more now than when I lost her. Of course I never expected to outlive her for this long,” he added in a whisper.

Bobby was sure he felt his heart break, and he was at a loss for what to say.

“I just hope that she would be proud of me.”

“I’m sure that she is. You’re a hero in so many ways to so many people.”

“I hope so. Sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” he mumbled shaking off the vulnerability.

“Never apologize for expressing your feelings. And thank you for being open with me.”

“You’re very easy to talk to,” Steve admitted with a half laugh and swiped at the tears that had gathered.

Bobby mimicked the action. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

“Is it normal to cry in a furniture store?”

“It happens more often than you’d think,” Bobby chuckled.

“Back to work now?” It was obviously a plea, so the older (younger) man nodded.

They had finally made it to the living room section, and the interior designer gestured to the seemingly never ending array of couches, armchairs, and coffee tables.

“Let’s talk couches.”

“I was thinking a sectional. One big enough to fit five adults who don’t like to sit on furniture normally.”

“Got it. Okay. So lots of lounging space.”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“So something like this maybe.”

They walked to a large sectional about 15 feet away. It was a U-shape with two extended chaises on either end. It was deep blue in color and soft to the touch. But Steve could also guess from the fabric that it wouldn’t hold the heat like some others which was always a concern. He and Bucky always ran hot.

He pictured it in his loft.

Bucky sprawled out along the middle piece and Sam on one chaise. Natasha would be perched on the back of it, because she hated using furniture in the way it was intended. Of course eventually she’d fall asleep and start to roll. Bucky or Sam (whoever was closer) would yank her down between them without looking and the three of them would rearrange themselves into a complicated tangle of limbs that somehow was comfortable.

Meanwhile you would have started out curled up in the corner, shoulder to shoulder with him while Bucky dropped his head in your lap. But when he resituated himself you would shuffle your way over to Steve’s end, snuggling down in front of him.

The thought made him smile. That was one thing he definitely wanted from retirement.

“It’s perfect.”

“Good.”

They went through a few more options and discussed modern versus classic and what Steve would prefer. Bobby had good idea of how he was going to set up the space.

“Is anything that we haven’t talked about that you desperately want to see?”

“This chair. Or something like it.”

Steve ran his hand along a neat brown leather wing back chair.

“Interesting. Okay. What draws you to it?”

“We had one growing up. It was the one nice piece of furniture in our house. It had been a wedding present for my parents. During the winter, Bucky and I used to curl up in it under this giant blanket my ma knitted when she was pregnant with me. I’d love to have one now.”

“We can do that.”

Bobby’s Interview:

“Steve clearly hasn’t had a space that feels like it’s his own in decades. I want him to come home to a space that feels personal and not like a barracks. He also needs a space that acknowledges his past and sets him up to take on his future. And we can give that to him.”

A/N: I hope you enjoyed. Thanks so much for reading. See you next week!

Tag lists are open! (Please send an ask. And if I haven’t responded please send again!)

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#Steve gets queer eyed #Queer eye for the cap guy #Cap gets queer eyed #Part 2

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letterboxd · 4 years

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Murder, He Wrote.

“They say casting is 90 percent of directing and it was really true in this case.” Knives Out writer and director Rian Johnson tells us about the intricacies of whodunits, the joys of over-analyzing movies, and—yes—Star Wars.

From Hercule Poirot’s debut in an Agatha Christie novel in 1920, to the hard-boiled detectives of the 1930s, to the Pink Panther comedies, the whodunit was a perennially popular film genre—until its decline in the 1980s, when true-crime re-enactments took over. But, with Knives Out, writer/director Rian Johnson (Looper, Star Wars: The Last Jedi) is on a mission to reaffirm the whodunit’s rightful place on the big screen—and casually reinvent the form while he’s at it.

Knives Out has a gobsmacking ensemble, with Christopher Plummer (as writer Harlan Thrombey, the victim), Ana de Armas (as Marta, Thrombey’s nurse and confidant), Daniel Craig (as Benoit Blanc, the famous private detective who shows up to query Thrombey’s apparent suicide), and Lakeith Stanfield (as the investigating Lieutenant Elliott). Making up Thrombey’s extended, entitled family are Jamie Lee Curtis, Don Johnson, Chris Evans, Michael Shannon, Toni Collette, Riki Lindhome, K Callan, Katherine Langford and Jaeden Martell—all well fed by his wealth and determined to protect their piece of it.

It’s a Rian Johnson movie, so Noah Segan shows up as well, in perhaps his meatiest role yet, as a cop working with Stanfield. There’s also a delightful cameo from Frank Oz.

Rian Johnson directs Ana de Armas on the set of ‘Knives Out’.

Despite the lack of big-screen whodunits of late, there’s no shortage of audience enthusiasm for them, as evidenced by our ‘Murder Mystery’ Showdown, a great starting point for anyone looking to delve into the genre. Letterboxd members who have already seen Knives Out are very much enjoying what they see, with the film boasting a giant 4.2 average rating (at time of writing).

This is one of those films where you can just tell how much fun the cast is having, an aspect that Letterboxd member Wes nails in his review: “I’d really, really, really like to believe that Rian Johnson gathered all these actors in this giant house, hid some cameras everywhere, hit record, and none of what we saw was fictitious.”

Demi Adejuyigbe writes—in his charming Letterboxd review of the time he lunched with Johnson (!)—that the film is “absofuckinglutely phenomenal”. He marvels at how Knives Out stays one step ahead of what we expect from a whodunit: “How do you fool an audience that has come to be fooled? Johnson is so deftly able to get that joyful, wondrous reaction out of me by expertly controlling every aspect of the script and the direction in a way that makes it clear he sees the entire process as a symphony that he’s conducting, where the audience is just another instrument being played.”

Or perhaps Patrick Willems best encapsulates the joys of the film when he writes that Knives Out is “a movie as good as its sweaters (the sweaters are excellent)”. (The most popular sweater has its own story, here.)

When we got in a room with Rian Johnson recently, we naturally wanted to learn how he juggled such an impressive ensemble whilst navigating the twists, turns, and more twists of Knives Out’s plot.

Chris Evans and Ana de Armas wearing sweaters, Rian Johnson not wearing a sweater, on the set of ‘Knives Out’.

You’ve often talked about your lifelong love of the whodunit genre. How did you go about making your own? Rian Johnson: It’s very interesting, the whodunit genre. It’s one of my favorite genres. I love all the things about it. I also kind of agree with Hitchcock. Hitchcock hated the whodunit genre. To Hitchcock, the danger of the whodunit is: it’s a lot of build-up for one big surprise at the end, and that’s not very satisfying or fun. That’s why he was all about suspense. He would give the audience information early and then you’re in suspense and not just crime-solving. He would also mislead the audience, so you’d think you’re getting all the information early. And enough so that you’re leaning forward, you’re not sitting back. That’s Hitchcock’s whole deal.

So for me, what was interesting is: can I put the engine of a Hitchcock thriller in the middle of a whodunit? Have a whodunit that then turns into a Hitchcock thriller that turns back into a whodunit? That was kind of the starting point for me, from a genre-wonk point of view.

So then I started filling out, okay what would that actually mean? I’m talking around it because I don’t wanna spoil anything, but, okay if we did this and then that could be interesting. And then I started zooming in bit by bit and filling out what characters I would need for what plot points. All the details come later but it’s as ‘big picture’ as that.

Jamie Lee Curtis, Christopher Plummer, Don Johnson and Michael Shannon in ‘Knives Out’.

Were there ever any alternative outcomes in play? Not really, because I didn’t really work, like, “if this happens, then that happens, then that happens”. I worked it like a satellite map. I zoomed back. I work in little notebooks and I have to draw one line and see the entire plot along that line. So it’s not like a game of Clue where I can pick out different solutions at the end; it’s kind of set because the shape of the whole thing determines a different kind of ending from the very inception of it.

Watching this, I thought about your film The Brothers Bloom, as that’s another ode to a somewhat specific genre—the con-artist film—in which your affection for that kind of film was also evident. How challenging is it to write and shoot films in genres you grew up loving? Any time I’m attacking a genre it’s because I deeply, deeply love it. The heart of it for me is always trying to distill the thing I love about it and set that as the goal-post and then find my own way to it. Whether it’s the con-man movie with The Brothers Bloom, or Star Wars as a genre, or this, it’s always about trying to get to the heart of what I love about something and then trying to put that on the screen so the audience will have as pure an experience of it as possible. And sometimes to give the audience the purest experience, you have to shake it a little bit, because… we’ve seen so many versions of it over the years that the audience can kind of ignore it. So sometimes you have to put it in a different context, like with Brick, with film noir or something. But the intent is always to give the audience the most sharp and vivid experience of what’s at the heart of it for me.

This film is a blockbuster of chemistry. Was it difficult to cast? Once we got Daniel on board, no. Once he was the centerpiece, I think everyone wants to work with him so it was like a snowball. Because then we got Michael Shannon, and everyone wants to work with him. And Lakeith Stanfield. So, no, the cast came together very, very quickly, just like everything else in this project. With these actors, my job is easy. They show up on set, they clicked in so easily. They’re such pros. They say casting is 90 percent of directing and it was really true in this case.

Lakeith Stanfield, Noah Segan and Daniel Craig in ‘Knives Out’.

Speaking of Daniel Craig, his character is a microcosm of the film in that he is not in any way like any detective that has come before, yet you cannot help but think of precedents. Were you consciously trying to make him unlike Hercule Poirot? When I started writing, I actually kinda got myself in trouble because I was thinking too much about Poirot. I love Poirot so much and I think I was thinking too much like: how do I make my Poirot? And so I started doing all this sort of quirky stuff, and throwing all these quirks in there, like maybe he has an eye patch and a peg leg maybe. It was just silly. And so finally I said “this is so stupid”, and I pulled all that stuff and I just said: “I’m gonna write this character very straightforward. The way that he needs to be for the script. And I’m gonna give him a Southern accent, because then he’s a fish out of water in New England. And then whoever I cast, I’m gonna believe that they’re gonna inhabit that character in such a way that he’ll be unique.”

I think what Daniel found—that is exactly what is at the heart of Poirot—is Daniel found kind of what’s funny about the character. Beyond the accent. He found the self-inflated, clownish aspect of him, while still maintaining a humanity and an intelligence, which is really what Poirot is. It’s why Peter Ustinov is my favorite Poirot—he gets what’s funny about the character. And like Columbo or like Miss Marple or any of the great fictional detectives, it’s that element that makes you not quite take him seriously until it’s too late and they’ve solved the whole case. I think that’s what Daniel keyed into more than anything else.

This feels like a film that people are going to pore over the details of, as they did with Looper. I love it because that’s part of what I love about those kinds of movies. First of all, let’s separate them, because with time-travel movies, the notion that a time-travel movie can make sense is absolute nonsense. So time travel is much more like the spells in Harry Potter than science, and anyone who thinks otherwise is fooling themselves. Except maybe Shane Carruth. Shane is the one person who can actually figure out time travel. Everyone else, it’s kind of like a fantasy element more than anything else.

Ana de Armas in ‘Knives Out’.

So with Looper, I felt like I had to have it make narrative sense, but I didn’t feel the pressure of it having to work in every little detail, because it can’t. Whereas, it’s a little different with a whodunit because every screw has to be tightened and I can’t leave any loose ends. I do want people to be able to re-watch and dig in. But I’ll be a little more sad if they find things that don’t make sense. I’m sure they will, but it’ll actually make me a little sad if they do, because I’ll be like: “I messed up there”.

How do you feel about your films being subjected to that kind of scrutiny? I think it’s fun! That’s the thing: for a certain kind of moviegoer, that’s the pleasure you get—it’s almost like the kid who if you hand them a radio, you’re gonna wanna take it apart. If that’s what someone loves about watching a movie then I think that’s fantastic. I’ve done that with certain films. I’ve watched them over and over and tried to analyze, so I get [that] that’s part of the pleasure of it.

How are you feeling about your Star Wars experience? As a filmmaker, as a Star Wars lover, it was the best experience of my life. Everything about it. Writing it. Making it. The people I got to meet. The places I got to go. The experience I had putting it out. The last two years interacting with the fans has been so rewarding and so fantastic.

I feel like I always have to say that the bad part of that gets written about a lot because it’s interesting to write about. From being in the middle of the hurricane, I can tell you that 95 percent of my interactions with fans are absolutely lovely. That’s not to say they all even like the movie—some of them don’t, or some of them have issues with the film—but they’re all engaged and respectful and so deeply engaged in it in a way that when you make movies you only dream that people will engage with something that you made on that level. So no, for me, the whole thing top-to-bottom has been the most beautiful experience I can possibly imagine.

Rian Johnson directs Joonas Suotamo on the set of ‘Star Wars: The Last Jedi’.

Something that I know in my bones from being a Star Wars fan since I was five years old: everybody has a slightly different version of what Star Wars is to them, absolutely. That’s why I’m excited that stuff like [new Disney+ series] The Mandalorian can exist. The more Star Wars stuff we make, the more there’s gonna be a spectrum that gives different people the things that they want. But we also have to recognize that nothing is gonna give everybody what they want, and somebody is always gonna be upset.

What George Lucas did originally was make a movie that was straight from his heart, and expressed exactly what this world was to him. And expressed emotional truths in this world in a way that was resonant for him personally. I feel that every filmmaker who comes to Star Wars, that’s their job. Their job is not to take a survey and to see what is going to have the broadest demographic appeal. Their job is to speak from their heart and make a thing that resonates with what Star Wars is for them. And I think the more diverse filmmakers we have doing that, the more diverse Star Wars movies we’ll have, the more people will hopefully be happy and the less yelling there’ll be all around.

‘Knives Out’ is now in theaters. Comments have been edited for clarity and length. With thanks to Studiocanal.

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mlpdestinyverse · 5 years

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Destinyverse: Daring Do

A look at Destinyverse’s version of Daring and her backstory!

“My work always involves secrets. And since you never know who you can trust, it's best never to trust anypony."

(Very Long) Summary Under The Cut!

- Daring Do was born within the eastern village of Lokai, most popularly known for being the village the hero Mistmane originated from ((which was canonically inspired by asian culture)). She was born under the name “Astelia Kerria Yearling”. Lokai is a village of beauty and it’s not uncommon for foals to be named after flowers and other wonders of nature. Astelia in particular, however, had the last name of “Yearling” passed down by her mother, who had been an outsider from the west.

- Astelia never knew her parents and was never told what had happened to them. All she knows is that she was directly taken in by her strict grandparents. They didn’t seem particularly fond of her, as if she were a mere obligation compared to the rest of her extended family. Not even her high academic achievements seemed to impress them much. The filly eventually decided that it was partly due to her being the first pegasus in their magical unicorn family line. - Her grandparents were incredibly old-fashioned ponies who strongly believed in tradition. Because of this, they had a specific idea of how growing fillies should be; meek, well-mannered and tidy, writers of elegant poetry or painters of still-life, like many of the elderly mares. They held all of the fillies and mares in their family to this standard. But psssSSSHHH, screw that, right? Astelia had a headstrong, witty, and fearless personality. She was independent. Spontaneous. Daring. She loved blindly throwing herself head first into anything exciting or challenging (hello free-falling from a cloud to test her flight skills. Also hello to tracking down a wild boar), no matter how intimidating or dangerous it seemed to others. More often than not, her grandparents had to reign her in and scold her for her reckless and far too bold behavior. Irritatingly enough, she was even considered a “trouble child” within her family. Then again, no one in her family knew how to handle a speedy, spirited pegasus like herself. - Astelia loved flying off to explore the nearby forests and pretend she was adventuring. She was imaginative and was inspired by the adventure-themed books she would read in the town’s library, which was full of donated books gathered from all across Equestria. Eventually she began writing down a diary of her own adventures, throwing in her wild daydreams to make her stories way more exciting. She would have her younger cousins read her writings, and their interest only spurred her on to write more. She even thought that maybe she could earn her cutie mark this way. - Unfortunately, her grandparents disapproved of her overactive imagination, believing it fed her dangerous ideas and would encourage even more unrefined behavior. They tried monitoring what she read, keeping her from running off outside the village, and even forced her into taking flower-arranging classes while squeezing her into tight dress wear of their choice. But as long as she had paper, she could secretly write down all of her ideas. It wasn’t until her secret writings were discovered and torn up in front of her by her controlling guardians that Astelia had enough of being held back. The next chance she got, the adolescent silently packed up her things and ran off, deadset on freely forging her own path. Because she planned on leading a new adventurous life, Astelia decided to discard her fancy name in favor of one that actually fit her; “Daring Do”. Because she knew she was willing to tackle anything, no matter the challenge or odds. ...it might’ve taken her a week to come up with the name, but you know. - Fortunately for Daring, she had a pretty great sense of direction! Unfortunately for Daring, she knew diddly squat about survival skills. After weeks of trekking, attempts at foraging (and getting sick five too many times), and numerous close-calls with wild bears and coyotes, Daring began questioning if she was really capable of making it on her own. Even doing odd jobs in the towns she passed through didn’t really earn her much to get by. And then she met the professor. The middle aged pegasus mare was pretty annoyed when she found this skinny, fluffed up mess of a young mare clinging to the roof of her cottage. But she did feel slightly impressed to find out Daring had been surviving on her own and had just managed to escape the clutches of a jaguar. The professor never gave her name. All Daring really got to learn about her was that she was a recluse (grumpy) historian who owned a lot of books and liked writing papers. But what the prof did offer Daring was an opportunity to learn how to hone her survival skills; if she helped with all of the mare’s chores and errands that is (oh how the prof hated going into town. Socializing. Ugh…). The professor was a pretty pessimistic, indifferent pony, but over the course of a few months, the two managed to respect and grow on each other. Well, if you consider throwing sassy (yet somewhat fond) jabs at each other ‘respect’. - The professor offered Daring a slew of information; books on the safest berries to forage and their locations in the region, books on the local animals. Heck, the prof gave a few lessons on basic self defense (slimy thieves weren't uncommon. And you might have to bop a snake in the snoot every once in a while). But there was one book in particular that captured Daring’s interest. It was a historic book with a special combination lock, filled with pages upon pages of information on ancient relics, old ruins, and ancient prophecies. While the book faciated Daring, the prof shrugged it off, explaining that she had gotten the book at a market over a year ago. After cracking the code, she was disappointed to find it was simply filled with exaggerated myths and legends. After all, since when could chunks of metal have the power to create eternal night and sink a whole town? Pft. Well, even if was a work of fiction, it was definitely Daring’s favorite book in the prof’s collection. - Daring was still a young and trusting mare at the time. So when a trio of ponies politely approached her in hopes of locating a local historian, intent on gathering information on an item they were writing a paper for, Daring didn’t think too much about it. In fact, she recognized the drawing of the item! It was in the professor’s book! Maybe she wasn’t sure whether her loner of a mentor would like company or not, but who was she to turn away ponies that she could actually help? However, she came to regret her decision upon returning to the cottage. The ponies she guided abruptly tried (and failed) to knock her out and in moments were tearing up the house. In her daze she remembered hearing shouting. She remembered seeing the ponies dragging off a tied-up professor, the relic book in hoof, and running with reckless abandon. At first Daring froze, still processing the robbery and kidnapping. But upon realizing her mentor could be in danger, courage welled up within the young mare and Daring quickly trailed them. At first she tried to locate them from the sky, but after a moment of realization, she used the ground to follow their hoofprints and broken branches. - Trailing and eavesdropping led Daring to some old ruins, where she would for the first time meet Ahuizotl. Apparently the creature had hired pony-help to scout and capture the great Book of Relics that the professor was unlucky enough to get involved with. After threatening the mare, he was able to get the code needed to open the ancient book and gain access to all the information he’d ever need on every artifact. At that moment, Ahuizotl used the newfound information to unleash his latest artifact. Daring firsthand got to witness its great power as the sky was filled with dark, powerful storm clouds that could flood the whole land. Within seconds, the heavens unleashed heavy sheets of rain, drenching Daring to the bone. -While Ahuizotl was distracted with his villainous speech, Daring managed to sneak in and untie the professor. Too bad Ahuizotl’s big cats are never too far from him and Ahuizotl had no more use for the professor and some wannabe kid. Daring soon found herself surrounded Yet, as one of Ahuizotl’s cats lunged at her, a ferocity she never knew she had within emerged. Maybe it was adrenaline, or determination, but Daring bucked and stomped and sunk her teeth into fur and skin like never before. In all the chaos, not only did Daring find an opening for the professor to escape, but Ahuizotl’s smallest kitty managed to catapult right into his face. Daring took the chance to drop kick the giant blue ape-dog and snatch up both the amulet and the book before dashing off. As she and the professor flew through the flooding temple, Daring flipped through the book’s pages and was able to solve the riddle needed to deactivate the relic. And luckily for her, the rising water was able to slow down Ahuizotl and his water-deterred felines, allowing her and her mentor to escape. - Running as far away from the temple as possible, Daring was frazzled and panicked. The stories were real. The curses, the dungeons, the powers, all of it. And that giant mutt almost drowned out a whole nation and thousands of innocent ponies with just one of these relics. Daring didn’t think twice. Ahuizotl had scoured through numerous pages of the book before she had arrived and stepped in. He said it himself in his speech; he now knew the locations of a dozen more relics. And if she and prof didn’t get to them first, then well...she couldn’t even imagine what would happen to Equestria. The professor, however, had other ideas; just burn the cursed book and walk far, far away. She was just a historian after all. All she wanted was to study in peace. She had no business facing criminals who nearly tried to kill her just for having a single book. No, she wanted none of that nonsense. And if Daring knew what was best for her, she suggested the filly should think of herself. Daring was shocked. The professor had seen for herself the destruction a single artifact could cause, how could she leave this be without batting an eye? Daring tried arguing, pleading even for the professor to just work with her. But the professor had made up her mind. And if Daring wasn’t going to listen and wanted to risk her life being some hero, then she wasn’t going to stop her. Daring had already demonstrated that she had what it took. - The two parted without any farewells. Daring had never felt so frustrated and betrayed and bitter, being left to process her new knowledge and shoulder the sense of responsibility by herself. So on that day it was settled; she didn’t need help. Her naive mistake already proved to her that she couldn’t trust just anypony. She swore to herself that she could take care of things alone, for her protection and the protection of everypony. In that moment, her resolve to protect the land and secure the relics earned Daring her cutie mark. Daring matured over the years, becoming tougher and rougher with every quest. - Daring used the Book of Relics as a checklist and guide of sorts. Sure, it didn’t have all the fine details to help her locate her artifacts, but it gave enough information to push her in the right direction. From there, information from locals or the nearest libraries helped create a clearer path. Sightings and talk of wild cats or an unknown blue creature usually helped Daring know what relic to target first. - As if Ahuizotl wasn’t already a hoof-full, eventually Dr. Caballeron came into the picture. After Daring turned down his greedy offer to work as her partner so they could sell relics and share the profits, the stallion turned on her. Daring then found herself with a target on her back as Dr. Caballeron used her trail to help lead him to the priceless artifacts he so desired. It was then that Daring began disguising herself and decided to have a secluded base away from society. - During her down time, whenever she needed to rest and recuperate, Daring found herself writing again. Then the craziest idea went through her head; wouldn't it be cool if she published her stories and her adventures managed to inspire kids? Just like her when she was young...she couldn’t have anypony know all of it was real, though, cause who knew how many other grubby hooves wanted unspeakable power. So after finding a publisher and a cover artist, Daring published her first book. But that meant putting down a different name for the author. So why not just shorten a name she already knew? And thus, the author A.K. Yearling made a name for herself, completely changing the adventure genre as ponies knew it. ------------------ Afterstory:

- When she reflected on it, Daring actually felt pretty touched when Rainbow Dash had chosen to stick with her and help out during their first adventure together, despite how harsh and unwelcoming Daring had been. Without a doubt, the excitable goof grew on her. Through Rainbow's efforts, Daring learned to put down her walls and open herself up to other ponies again. Then came the quest that led her to a gruesome wing injury, forcing her to hole herself up in her cottage until she could recover. The results for her wing’s state looked grim, and as criminals ran freely, Daring found herself at her lowest. What would happen if Daring Do retired…? Who was she then? -Rainbow supported her through these dark days, and even offered to take over her work until Daring healed up and could get back into it. Daring acted as support during these days, doing all the necessary research and secret reconnaissance to give Rainbow the information she would need to act. The two found themselves working together as a great team. Daring decided to use these adventures for a new arc in her books, determined to tell the tale of Rainbow’s strength and loyalty (under an alias, of course; Spectrum Storm). - Whether working together to take down a criminal or simply lazing together after a long day, Daring and Rainbow Dash grew closer than ever before. Even when there was no mission, Rainbow would frequently visit Daring after Wonderbolts practice just to check up on her and make sure her spirits were still up. Daring greatly appreciated Rainbow’s attempts at being there for her during these dark, melancholy days. Although it was a little scary, she felt she could truly let her guard down and depend on her friend. Feelings and tension started to build within Daring, something she felt nervous and incredibly embarrassed over. It didn’t help how flippin OBLIVIOUS Rainbow was. Stupid dorky pegasus, being stupidly cute and stupidly attractive with her dumb, charming grin and- UGH. WELL, turned out Rainbow had feelings for Daring for a long while. It just took some time to realize “wait shit, I’m in love with her, O H”. - After months of recovery, it was finally concluded that Daring’s wing would never be able to fully heal and would permanently affect her flight. Thankfully, Daring was prepared and was able to come to peace with herself. She decided it was probably time to just retire as an adventurer, believing she’d only be endangering herself (and others) by forcing herself to go up against criminals and crumbling dungeons in her new state. At first she planned on finding somepony who’d be willing to take her place and continue where Rainbow left off, but Rainbow Dash immediately waved the very idea away by volunteering to take over permanently. Cause well, that meant she could keep working alongside Daring. And that’s where she wanted to be anyway.. Daring was a flustered (but touched) mess of feathers, to say the least. Eventually these two dummies got married and had two fluffy, hard-headed kiddos together. -------------------- Extra: -Daring still goes by A.K. Yearling in public, but since “Daring Do” was such a prominent part of her, she considers it her true name. Rainbow has come to call her Daring and Dare when they’re alone.

-For her interviews as A.K., Daring made up all the information about where she grew up and where she studied literature. However, there’s a possibility she eventually wrote a prequel to her Daring Do series, revealing ‘Daring Do’s’ backstory. Her backstory, of course. -Daring eventually did return to Lokai. Surprisingly her family was overjoyed to see her alive and healthy, but there was also the disappointment that well...she didn’t come back before her grandparents had passed away. Daring felt some guilt over this, but decided to make up the lost time by getting to know everyone again. Luckily not everypony was stuffy like her late grandparents, and many were genuinely interested in her adventures. Dare visits every once in a while and has brought along Monochrome and Venture Gale once or twice. -Thanks to Daring’s numerous near-death experiences, Daring tends to get nervous over every little thing that could possibly hurt her babies. It sure took a lOOOT of coaxing to convince her that Rainbow Dash could look out for their son on their quests together.

I was never into the idea that Rainbow and Daring were secret relatives. When I acknowledged that, I was like "...I could make a next gen with these two...". And that's how Monochrome came to be. Then when I drew Daring for the first time in 'Admirer', I really liked how she looked and it made me think about how cool it'd be if she were, in our world, asian or part asian. So then I developed this backstory for her. Just two more things; don’t think too hard about the professor and who she is. She just seemed detached enough as a concept that it made sense that a name would not be established. I don’t imagine the two meeting again. Secondly; I actually can’t settle on what happened to Daring’s parents. So that part is free for interpretation! Maybe they died, maybe they eloped and left baby Daring behind. Who knows.

#Destinyverse #Daring Do #A.K. Yearling #my little pony #mlp #mlp art #story

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deepintoforestwego · 6 years

Text

Worth whole weight in gold

A girl is born.

She is nobody, nothing yet. Such an ordinary, simple origin, product of too common and simple origin. A young couple, three children more, the work accident, death, single mother looking on another hungry mouth and heart breaking as she realizes they can’t manage it, that baby deserves more, and leaves her in orphanage without looking back, wiping tears.

Bah. i know, I know, some of you are disappointed. Angry. Outraged. Where is blood, where is tragedy that was inevitable and so easily prevented, homes burning down to foundations? What beginning is that, so common and reasonable? But don’t worry, soon have Sudice measured and determined shape and length of her thread and it’s place in tapestry and put her on glorious path.

Three women come to her. Second is tall and thin and beautiful, face sharp, eyes sharper still, like surgeon’s scalpels. Her suit is as grey as storm-clouds and gloomy morning sky and great hurricanes, and she almost rises off ground from excitement. She is a witch, from line of cunning and peasants, helping their own with will and wisdom, and of thieves and liars, gaining their desires by money and nice clothes. A smart woman, mystery and science joined together, who knows ways of blood in all forms, as genes and bindings. But blood doesn’t matter here, only choice, as she coos over babes.

Third, by few seconds, is a wizard, short and stocky, handsome and muscled, her nose smashed to pieces, scars over brow and back, patches of too pale flesh set in tanned skin, long braid falling below hips, red and yellow and purple, blue and pink and white flowers bursting through it, big as fists, signs only she knows meaning and purpose of hanging over her clothes, over jewelry, and few tatooed in ink (and rare few carved into flesh). She delights in baby’s cooing, in each of her breaths, in her love’s soft smile upon serious face, and throws girl in air and catches her, and they go home.

(The First we all know, and ours line best, but it isn’t time to know what she was doing, though I think you can guess).

They do everything correct.

See, first forty days are most important. Because of health too, of course, because baby is most sensitive in that time, but there are more magical reasons for why. Forty days to arrive and forty days to depart, that is what soul needs, and that is time when baby is most vulnerable to curses and demons and all unseen things creeping below surface of world.

Spells, rituals and runes, everywhere. Knives and bullets and even bombs ( it has been years, and they have changed and found more stable work prospects, but once they were warriors and hunters and they shook a world slightly, and there are sorcerers and demons too arrogant or foolhardy or fearless to ignore those trembles-or to follow trail, try to devour those who will one day be songs, not bothering to remember that each word will be written with blood and ash and carried by wind itself. That each pathetic attempt they make only produces more and more reasons to whisper when they pass- no one got pass on them for years.

Well, one did, but that is expected. they are family, after all, and bit of rough housing is expected. She even healed them afterwards).

They do everything correct, every little custom and superstition that is just minor ritual, hidden spell, imbued with love and will and power. New mothers are like that, and they took two more girls too (of them we have spoken and will speak some other times). Well, what they can- many of rituals are focused on breastfeeding and birth mother. Still, there is money given to baby, and eggshells crashed in first bath, and more then month without leaving house, and red thread around wrists.

Girl si born mundane, ordinary human. But in house like that, steeped in magic and mystery, love and power, she could do nothing but become witch.

‘‘I don’t really like fairy tales.’‘ The little girl huffs, pushing away picture books, all same and stale and stupid. Tired old stories, all same scheme that makes no sense- why would somebody who was kind to fox be good king, why would girl with strange dress be a queen.

‘’See, I told you she won’t like them. She is sensible.’’ The mama, grey witch tells her wife, for she knows magic, but in sensible, reasonable way that can be studied and taken apart, and she has never been able to find herself in them as child, never able to find girls full of need for knowledge, anything other then prince.

‘‘That’s ok, we will find you some other books. But fairy tales can be very useful.’‘ The mummy, wizard says, fiddling with metal and screws, for she was never really fond of them, but she knows beauty that is found in language and history of them, especially those spread by peasants and people that know no origin of their tales, and she has walked the path they set out, fought and run and hid following clues set upon them by folktales.

‘‘Just as long as they don’t ruin the child. If she starts mixing and forgetting tales, she won’t live long enough to come of age.’‘ Whispers the hidden, banished woman, hair tangled and hands bloody, watching the scene in puddles of mud and icemelt water, cavern above her, the saline river below, so far away that they can almost forget her.

She is reared on love. Perhaps that is the best way. Love can nurture and strengthen, give somebody strength to light a candle against night, to fight and keep all that they treasure, to fight for others too. Not every hero needs to be mired in tragedy and loss, to continue standing despite everything that is taken from them. Not all lines and fates need to be founded in their Father’s blood across stones, their Mother’s revenges (and she will know the tragedy too, friends shattered under monsters, graves desecrated by the Lady, for hero has many enemies, and blood feuds never cease until we choke out each other, but that is tale for some other time).

She learns love, and duty, and what family means. Though they are all equally old, she takes on role of eldest child, the one that looks out and cares for rules and keeps cousins and sisters safe. From her mama she learns words and spine of steel, and how to keep her face and voice blank and neutral, and from her mummy she learns how to recognize and deal with imminent fights, how to use least she has to get the most. From them she learns how to hold herself without fear, and they distill in her strength they needed to bring about a coup.

But first of all, she never learns to be anything but herself. She is enough, she is correct and perfect in all ways she is. She carves her own life as she wants, bends what life gives her in what she needs and desires, and when things come to halt she does same for others. There is strength in that, an incredible power, in knowing who and what you are and never allowing anything to shake you, bend you in shape you could never accept. And then, you just extend that strength, that certainty to others.

‘‘It is not the quest.’‘ She murmurs to herself, setting off to journey. Just a quick delegation to a hidden village of giants, to ask to borrow some of strange herbs they managed to harvest and grow, after centuries of people attempting so. Just a normal negotiation and maybe trade deal.

Raskovnik. Razkovniche, rozryw, earthern key, rainbow root. A simple garss, barely more then moss or weed, yet with power to break any chain, open every gate, unlock each lock, shatter every ward and binding spell, to reveal buried treasures. Capricious thing, sometimes found only on Kupala night, sometimes known only to animals. And giants managed to grow crops of it. Useful thing, that they wouldn’t reveal secret of, maybe not even trade, and would surely look onto her as possible thief.

The leader of giants has fingers longer then her, three heads and beard as big as house. A witch man himself, which isn’t very common among giants- magic is capricious and moody mistress, and just because he is giant doesn’t mean his magic is stronger then hers. Magic demands work and concentration and patience, and so it is just as hard for giant to light a candle or raise pebble when they are starting as it is for human and most don't bother- but those who do find great rewards

"It has not been long since we had been able to use Craft again, when humans denied it from us for thousands of lifetimes. I am not sure I can trust you that you will not turn on us again." Giant speaks, and woman hides her frustration, even as she expected this. Trust is not something humanity earned from demons, even more than other way.

"Your concerns are natural and reasonable. But our scientists just want to study it. And we could never take on you in this state. You freed yourselves before and would prevent further attacks." Flattery doesn't hurt, nor does knowledge that her family was central in that fight, that her mothers fought on frontlines, that her uncles began the conflict with setting off first spark, that her aunts toppled empires.

"Still, it was barely two decades since then. Meager knowledge and power is all we have to protect us, especially since Cataclysm brought down Middleworld." There is longing in his voice, thundering through hall like beginning of storm, feral thing almost sob. She doesn't know it, but she understands-to lose a home, a world in single night and be forced to run above, to hide in human world, in hollow trees and moving islands is pain nobody should know.

" I'm aware my reassurances don't mean a lot, but would you at least be open to negotiations? My people could give you books, equipment, whatever you may need." He knows her family. Knows how they gathered power, how they crawled up as high as they could, in mundane and magical worlds both. He knows of things they gathered, of battles her mothers led, of how Middleworld shook itself to pieces and cried rain as her uncle died, knows of bargains and paths hidden below salt and ice, shadows and sea.

" Perhaps. Maybe it could be arranged, if somebody underwent some trials of our choosing." And he heard of her, of how reasonable and dutiful she is, and fair, and unwilling to leave any in trouble. Loyal, and honest, dependable and not to be tricked.

" I will do it." She says, and her voice cuts like sword, and on her he sees golden glow of hero.

It turns out, there are horses on the island. Horses of same strange origin as giants, smallest and youngest of them as big as elephants, and the biggest... They were amazing sight, seeing all that giant muscle, those long manes, how they run trampling trees before them-and she was supposed to tame them.

There were also statues all over island, of humans and giants and other creatures, all living being turned into stone, trapped motionless and hard, that she was supposed to rescue.

And finally, a riddle.

‘‘It is not a quest.’‘ She said, in prayer.

The giant, it turns out, has a daughter. A beautiful maiden, really, with milky skin, braided pale gold hair and rosebud mouth. Slender as willow, of delicate, soft features and baby blue eyes, voice soft and pliant and warm as velvet, long eyelashes and calloused fingers. Dressed in loose, white skirts she spends her days spinning on a wheel, baking bread, helping old people walk and stay asleep, rocking babies, getting rid of weeds in garden. She is beautiful and sweet as sugar and incredible.

She could also stomp down on our hero like a bug, But instead she just smiles and offers to make her chambers, and our heroine can just stare dumbstruck and widely smile as she jumps on giant girl’s hand. It is incredible.

Even as she has to sleep in dollhouse.

The young giantess is head of house, as her mother is gone. It reminds our heroine, with her cropped hair and broad shoulders and build few dresses support of something her grandparents would have loved, a patriarchal idyll. Except not really.

All women have power and influence, even ones downtrodden, mocked, trapped. Words and wish for freedom and heart, there is always power and use and skill, no matter what kind. But here, power isn’t subtle or hidden. It is something open, respected and needed and beloved. Those who tend homes are just as respected as those who hunt or trade and reason with other creatures, no matter they a man or woman.

Giantess cooks for her cousins, prepares broths and bakes bread, brings all meals of day to table, and they kiss her hands in gratitude and clean after themselves.

She makes clothes out of hides and wool delivered by demons they trade with on tools made of entire woods, and her customers heap deers and wild goats in payment upon their doorstep.

She cares for young and old and sick, and they bring water to their home (it is hard to find such things, for in Middleworld there were places suited for their kind, with seas of freshwater and orchards high as mountains, with cattle big enough to feed them. But in human world, devoid of such natural magics, they must struggle to feed themselves through winters). it isn’t something she could stand, but it is incredible to watch this young woman manage her home as a queen.

Besides, just because she likes churning butter doesn’t mean she can’t shatter skull of anybody who angers her.

She helps giantess in kitchen often. It takes all strength of her muscles, but she brings eggs almost as tall as her, the spoon twice her height, forks that could be used as battering rams, napkins she could use as blankets or carpets. She rides on giantess’s shoulders, crawls through her long, beautiful hair, practices sword fighting with her needles.

‘‘I am sorry we aren’t same height.’‘ Says giantess, who must take care she doesn’t speak too loud, or drop her from great heights.

‘‘Don’t be-this way I can revel in each detail of your beauty.’‘ Answers heroine, and laughs when giantess blushes.

‘‘I am sorry I can’t really appreciate your cooking.’‘ says our heroine, watching loaves of bread bigger then houses, the flour falling off it, grey as her mama’s suits, crust brown as her mummy’s braid, enough flour to make a desert.

‘‘Don’t worry. I’d like if I could properly bite apple, or smell rose, or pick mushrooms.’‘ So many small things, that she can’t properly see or smell or taste, so faraway and unknown to her.

‘‘Your altar is as big as temples at my home.’‘She laughed, kneeling before candles and figurines of Mokosh as tall as towers, holding pendant of sickle and snowflake in her hands, as they prayed and gave offerings.

‘‘Your books are incredible.’‘ Giantess gasps as heroine reads to her from tiny notebook-books are rare with giants, for they spread knowledge by word and memory and mouth, for parchment and paper are hard to make, and carving words in mountains is harsh job. She dreams of learning to paint, and sculpt clay, and of sword fighting and becoming smith.

They will always remember their first kiss, a tiny peck on side of giantess’s cheek.

‘‘You know, I don’t really remember Middleworld. I was pretty young when we had to leave it, three I think. I remember air being clearer but weirder, taller trees, the cows and sky covered by mists. And those caverns and purple streams, you know.’‘ She sighed, a huff of air from her lungs that could have blown our heroine away, but missing that nostalgic shadow of weeping that crossed faces of most demons and many sorcerers.

‘‘ I don’t really miss it. I love it here, even if it is hard-everybody I know and love is here, and there is too many good memories even if life is hard, but I think I should have known it. Besides, that way I could have traveled. Or maybe I am just missing it by nature-they say it is ours after all.’‘ Her hair of pale gold flails around her head. Everybody knows how it works-Upperworld for humans, Middle for demons, Underworld for immortals.

‘‘I get it. My mama is still sad about her family manor and mines being passed to her brother. I saw them only few times in life and didn’t like them, but I never got chance to know them, why she loves them so much. And now they are gone.’‘ She thinks of mines, closed after stones claimed and buried their owners, now refuge for hundred undead. She thinks of family manor, razed by fire and water, glass flying, silk turned to ash, icons of saints burning burning as Lady walked through gates that tried to deny her for last time.

Giantess gave her a comb, a tiny thing made of driftwood, several teeth missing, brimming with tension that seemed ready to explode every moment, to reach outwards, above and below and part earth and sky in half. She threw it in front of horses, and wood remembered what it meant to live, and each tooth became a forest, tall and dark, and thorny, so horses couldn’t pass.

Giantess gave her a scarf, a lovely pale blue that seemed almost translucent, that sometimes turned silver or green, and that wiggled and tried to pass between her fingers. She threw it in front of horses, and it grew long and deep and wide, became bubbling river that they could not pass, but which was more delicious then wine.

Then, heroine asked giantess’s father to prick his finger by her needle, and let it rest in tiny bowl on which she inscribed name of their city. And then she went to threshold of each house, and spoke words her mothers taught her, did steps her mama showed her, stood with strength her mummy imparted on her, and called ancestors buried beneath, and snake housekeeper, that speaks for dead and watches over home, and usually leaves only when misfortune si to befall home and wipe it off from face of earth.

They rose from cracks in earth and stone, and she could not tell whether they were tiny or tall as trees, only that their bodies swirled and bent around her, and in their eyes she saw generations upon generation, and secrets, and love. And she bent them to her will, for hers was House of Snakes, and from each serpent she took a bit of spit, and mixed it with blood, then spilled in river and broke bowl into dust and threw it to wind.

Then she called back the forest unto comb, and horses bent their heads and knees to giants, and were as tame as little sheep. And so her first not-the-task was done.

‘‘They say, that spring of river that flows through our island is magical. That it draws water from beneath the land, from sea, or maybe from Middleworld, and that it has powers of healing and curse-breaking. But rusalkas guard it, and our kind is afraid of water, and it is deep enough for them to pull us underneath. Be careful please.’‘ There are tears at corners of her eyes, and she promises, yes of course don’t worry I will take all precautions, before rain can fall from her eyelids.

Water is trouble for most demons. They have magic knit in between their flesh and bones, and it is way of water to rue spells and magic, especially moving one, to brings chaos and twist spells in something else, bend them like paper.

( For some reason water reacts violatily with magic. Old wives’s tales say it doesn’t like magic, mama scoffs, for all people have fairy tales and all are equally foolish.

There are theories that all things have some inherent magical properties, and water has strong property of changing and twisting other workings, mummy tells her later, repeating words of old friends, gone in many strange ways.)

Rusalkas, brought from edge of death, know that well, and use it to their advantage. Water nourishes and defends them. People think they have nothing but charm and seduction, but water keeps them safe, and people think them dumb, pretty bimbos good for nothing, but all lakes and rivers are connected, and they know many secrets.

She follows clear, bubbling, cold river, not so long ago only one at island, to it’s source. A cave at shores of island, where one can almost glimpse illusions shielding island, almost brush against wards keeping it hidden from ships and satellites. Sand is fine and grounded, white with golden sheen, and dust dances in air as sunlight reflects on walls of cave as smooth as glass, and she can see shallow pool, blue tinted green, each fish and grain of sand and blade of seaweed visible, crystal foam softly kissing the shore, while near it water springs forth in small trickle, turning slowly in lazy river. She can almost feel magic brush against her, like bite on ear and grip on forearms, like brush of hair on cheek and hot humid breath at neck.

‘‘ Hello honey.’‘ Her auntie smiles long and thin, pale, wrinkled lips purple as in drowned, water brushing her legs yet leaving her dry as she sits in spring, and heroine takes step back, but slowly, not to offend her. her family are things thought to be stories of peasants and horror and children, and she and her kin edge on border of something resembling fairy tales, but Lady Widow has left it all behind so long ago to walk through trenches and abysses of glory, to become legend and myth and miracle. Often she remembers herself, and holds her mind tight and true, wraps and chains herself with reason and laws and customs and pins and buns and short, harsh, pricked words ‘‘ maybe you shouldn’t curse whole family with eternal hunger because somebody pushed you out of way’‘, but sometimes...

Sometimes, her voice sounds like faraway song, a wail of tides, and her hair falls like waterfall of ink and silver down her back, unbound and wild like waves themselves.

‘‘Greetings to you too, Auntie. And no, this isn’t quest.’‘ She says, and her Auntie laughs, as she gazes into surface of water, for she knows the way Story bends and shapes world, and knows road it’s actors must walk on, and she knows how long ago she set her family on that path.

‘‘Of course it is. It always is so with our family. Used to be all heroes, false and true, and poor single me, but now it’s all right with you kids. A hero and villain and mysterious donor to seek help from.

You, wielding reason and sword, came here for three tasks and to win heart of your donor, antagonist’s child- a giant’s daughter, classic! Good choice, you can forget her and have her fight evil witch for you. Would put you ahead of your cousin in terms of fun plot- did you know he is cheating on his girlfriend with her husband! And none of three knows!’‘ Our heroine gasped slightly at that. Their Auntie never meddled in whom they loved, or how, as long as it was healthy and loving- and insisted on being regularly fed plots of soap operas and tragic folk lyrical poems as tributes. She always had soft spot for making fantasies real, which is why big part of their teen years and puberty was spent watching Spanish telenovelas and Turkish melodramas she enjoyed to know what to avoid.

‘‘That is interesting information. Though I must say I don’t think either of us is villain or donor...’‘ She said, calculating in her head how to change topic of conversation and to figure out which cousin was in such predicament, when Auntie shook her head, yet veil from her eyes didn’t move a bit.

‘‘Oh? What of your sisters-one who keeps out of all conflicts and gives advice and secrets to all who bribe her, and one who would do anything and forgive everything for sake of our family and her strzyga lovers?’’ Sister who would be left alone with memories and bitterness beneath earth and forests, giving information and aid to monsters and champions both who pass her trials, and sister who would fill lakes with blood of innocents to prolong lives of three of them through centuries, until one day hero would come to Lady Widow who would give them sword and secret and send them off to deliver her girls to Winter Mother. But that was far away.

‘‘ And here are you, on second of your tasks. To retrieve a magical water of life to turn stone into flesh, and pass dangers while you are on it. Don’t worry, there are no rusalkas here anymore. I did nothing to them, they just run away.’‘ All lakes and rivers are bound, and all rusalkas remember Jagoda’s screams. And they fear Lady Widow, for they cannot stand her, and know not half of what she does, and she has all of theirs knowledge.

Rusalkas are children of lakes and rivers, fresh and always moving, never stopping. But all of it flows to the ocean,and Lady Widow was reared on hard ice and fishing boats, and in her blood is memory of chilly stagnation and sea salt.

‘‘So, would you then help me? As favor for family?’‘ She asks, hoping to focus her. Sometimes, Lady Widow, so tangled in legends and mysteries, born with foresight, would lose track of time and space and anything not cryptid enough to be understood without decades of research. And our heroine needed no prophecy.

‘‘Ah, but here family means nothing. You are heroine, with sword and reason and love, here to fulfill your second task and free stone unto life. I am maker of dark bargains and granter of wishes, sea witch and fairy godmother. I am thing you find on crossroads, that foolish men dream and desire and can never have, that soldiers sing about around fire before greatest battle, one whose secrets make kings and slay dragons. Are you sure you want to tangle with that?’‘ She asked, and rose to dance in water, her elder body moving graciously, in perfect ballet movements.

‘‘There are no more kings and no more dragons. World changed.’‘ At least in some ways. They all feared it, but Auntie would never part veil so much, would never reveal demons and sorcerers to world. they hoped so at least.

‘‘Yes, but it can change again, to times of glory and carnage. Middleworld was lost in a day, you know- it’s towers ground unto dust, it’s armies bowed and buried, it’s people banished to humanity by wood and water. It is just question of right moment when everything becomes ash and then Forest and then ice.. And then... then..‘‘ She spun around, sighing and singing, mumbling words in language her mama hated, that Lady Widow learnt first, before Englishand French and all other so called dignified, cultured words.

‘‘Auntie... Auntie, can you help me. Please.’‘ she asked, not pleading, but not showing irritation.

‘‘Hmmm. You sure I don’t want to tell you how your mama will die?’‘ Lady widow asked, twirling, but her tiny black hat never fell off.

‘‘I know you will kill her, and it will be bloody and petty and glorious, throne of bones and screams of children and all that. Please.’‘ She rambled off.

‘‘Perhaps, but not for now. And it might be illness, or drunk driver, or mines that claimed so many of her family, on both sides, or betrayal by best beloved ones who will take swords upon my words, and maybe Sun will war on the Moon with sage and eight sticks of fire with her, and darling girl of mine, should you go on quest once for me, I will give you way to change stone into living and clue for riddle.’‘ She stopped her dancing, and our heroine almost said finally, but she was too wise for that, and just nodded.

From somewhere, Lady Widow took a green plastic bottle, one they put carbonated water into, and ruby to close it. In she put water from spring, and strange powder, and then she bent down and touched neck of bottle with her lips.In but a second, world faded away, and only SHE was real, and everything was cold and brilliant, and our heroine felt fear turn her blood into ice, and that was good for otherwise her hands would try to tear out her heart as offering, and she bent under weight that tasted of salt and darkness.

‘‘ Rest is just a show, you know. It is all in the kiss- sprinkle it over statues, and they will feel it and think more is to come, and stone will turn to blood and bone, hoping I will grant them a half of touch more. Which is pity, because they will rot so fast, but their lives are theirs to use as they see fit. As for riddle- it will be one of classic twists, you know, tricks and hidden meanings and metaphors, requiring to think by heart.’‘ The she handed her niece bottle, and jumped in shallow spring and dived deeper then there was depth, in cold and dark that wasn’t there moments ago, and potion worked as she promised.

‘‘So girl, your final task-tell me what you think is greatest treasure of this island?’‘ Three heads ask at once, before gathered inhabitants, shortest of which are for three heads taller then her.

‘‘That is easy, sir. Greatest treasure on this island is without doubt your daughter.’‘ The answer is correct, and they don’t have time to congratulate her because they must keep young giantess from fainting.

There are adventures after, too. There are messages through magical stones and visits and spells that can make giantess as short as basketball player and human as tall as house. our heroine learns to climb on mountains in few steps and sew, and giantess learnt to paint and wield ax (sword didn’t work well enough, it turns out, but she tried). And finally, there is wedding.

Both families and all friends, gathered around statue of Mokosh, our heroine in her ceremonial armor, silver and lined with gold, her bride in white dress woven with wildflowers, demons of all shapes and forms laughing and dancing while dark haired witch with snakes around her officiates in name of Old Ones. Two processions are held, one as humans, other as giants, and there is lots of fight, but almost good natured about which goes first. It is eventually decided giant’s will be first since giantess will take up her wife’s surname, which makes her mama cry with happiness. ( No mention of dowry and bride price of course. Last time somebody joked about it Lady Widow called forth thousands of white cows from the sea to bride’s family and asked for adequate dowry).

‘‘So, my girl got herself a hero.’‘ Giant says, all three heads weeping, as Lady Widow sits on table next to him, and they all shrink from her, though her hair is bound tight.

‘‘Yes, though I’d say she herself is one. But rather fitting, married in right family- all wise and smart and trickster, theirs line is.’‘ So is our heroine’s mama, smart and good at fulfilling tasks to get help. Her mummy and uncle are strong and fearless and can take what they need, however they want it. Her other aunt is pretty and sly, charming thing, manipulating and binding people to her will. Their children are all like that- whether hero, monster or donor, they are strong and smart and charming and beloved, and even little kind (none of them like her hero, the fourth brother, the dead one, who wasn’t beautiful or respected or adored, but who would wade in darkness and deep woods for sake of lost strangers and what is right, who would feed animals and beggars, who would venture in deep water, beneath ice and salt and make bargain for which only he would bleed).

‘‘I heard of you, you know. Lady Widow. About feud and plans you have for this family. If it happens to involve my daughter somehow...’‘ Whispers like that reach whole world, of manipulations and poisons, of court feuds and blood spilled over asphalt, of curses and destroyed graves. They are children of their parents, by love and that is worse then blood, and price must be paid if they go on with their legacy, until only wizard with her flowers and braids is left spared, for friendship once treasured.

(This is what they all forget, heroes and monsters equally. Their parents are people, and they have their stories. They have sins and victories and memories and secrets, and legacy they wear has price).

‘‘She is my niece-in-law. I will love and protect her, see her wishes made true as much as possible, keep her safe and happy as much as I can, and bring damnation in all that dare harm her. And i will treat her same as all if she comes to beg and bargain, and should she harm my sweet niece or anybody else of our kin or invoke my enmity I will color my waters with her blood and make myself a bread out of her bones.’‘ She loves her nieces and nephews, almost as much as her own descendants. She is proud of fame that awaits them, fame that she gave to them as gift.

She fed them her milk, after all.

‘‘You can try. It would not take my daughter a lot to squish you down as a bug, or hack off that plotting little head of yours. She could gut you like fish before you would blink.’‘ Lady Widow smiles, and her teeth glint wide and sharp like icicles, like jaws of something from ocean’s depths, where sunlight never reaches.

‘‘You can try all of you together now if you want. I always said wedding is no good without some massacre, and it has been some time since I had such big targets to rend into dust.’‘ There they are like him, all so concerned about lives of others and laws and blood on carpet, but they don’t even know how to get rid of evidence properly. Truly, this family would be lost without her guidance.

She jumps down from table onto floor, glinting graciously as if on stag, her fingers barely touching cobblestones. Still she is proud of those children, and sets to job of making gifts, long life and status of idol and rows upon rows of failed enemies.

There is no need to bless them with long-lasting, eternally kept and simmering love. Seeds of it are already there, in their kiss, in hug that seems to be eternal, as if they are melding in one.

‘‘Lovely girls.’‘ Says the officiator, sipping her wine coated with pomegranate and roses, snakes whirling around her like necklace, hair as black as coal.

‘‘Yes, they are. Even if they are incredibly oblivious.’‘ At officiator’s amused, curious gaze, she hands her another glass and points at winking blonde rusalka gazing in her direction, and watches girl blush and stammer.

‘‘That was lovely story, Hans.’‘ The old woman says to man next to her, smelling of thunder and summer grass, her short hair white and brittle, her hands calloused from swords, while her wife stands beside her with her braid of pale gold.

‘‘I’m glad you love it so Aunts. I think they all figured out who we are talking about, with all snuggling and whispering you did.’‘ He smiles, sharp and white as icicles, as thing from depths, as his grandmother, and two of them giggle and go to woods, to their hidden cottage and their cats and friends, cottage that shifts it’s inner size in order to comply to them and their whims.

Cavern above her, the saline river below, so far away that they can almost forget her, Lady smiles scrying scene in icemelt puddle, and counts it as one of her wins.

A happy ending, ever after and forever.

#slavic folklore #urban fantasy #wlw #fairy tales #writeblr #gift for always amazing slavicafire

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ghostmartyr · 6 years

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SnK 100 Thoughts

“He has the power to wipe out the entire human race, and if we believe there's even a 1% chance that he is our enemy, we have to take it as an absolute certainty. And we have to destroy him.”

Look, if you design a character who agrees with Batman in Batman v Superman, you just sorta have to accept that bad things are going to happen to him.

Though, since we are talking about it...

Now, I’m not making any giant leaps here.

All I’m saying is that technically all Eldians have the name of their mother in common.

Which means Eren’s going to die, Reiner’s Batman, and Wonder Woman is still waiting for her musical cue. Also, War Hammer is Doomsday.

#spoilers

Obviously I missed out on calling Falco Robin, which is even more tragic due to where his life story looks to be taking him, but then we have to get down to assigning a Joker, and I guess Gabi’s a pretty easy Batgirl, but I have a chance here to keep one of these posts short, and I can’t do that if fanfiction is being written in the margin.

Also, I think someone would yell at me if I suggested Zeke for Wonder Woman (heislookingbackatabattlefieldheisdepartingsotheblockingisthereevenifthemoralcenterisn’t) so let’s just stop.

Okay, so the brief summary of this chapter is ding-dong, the witch is dead, only there’s some disagreement over whether it was a good witch or a bad witch. A similar disagreement is ongoing regarding the perpetrator.

Truthfully, the one thing that can be said is that the good or bad witch’s slippers are unlikely to be taken by the good or bad witch who slayed him. They won’t fit, and the good or bad witch murderer already has the most powerful magic in the land.

The briefer summary is that Willy Tybur continues to be terrible, only in such a way that it’s confused for nobility, and I am so very tired of Marley.

He’s willing to die for his belief that his people are irredeemable monsters that should be eradicated--but he’d still rather they not be, because life gives him the warm fuzzies, and maybe the people whose abuse his family’s been profiting off deserve warm fuzzies too.

The idea of a nobleman looking at the life of luxury he has at the cost of his own people, and choosing to make steps to change the world for the better, is not a bad one. Doing that despite a wholehearted belief in their inherent evil is actually very interesting. It’s one more bit of cognitive dissonance that allows Willy to feel guilt over what has been done to his people, even though he thinks the world would be better off without them, and doesn’t mind killing large numbers of them.

At his core, all he is is a man who wants to live in the world he’s been born into, and he’s willing to sacrifice that life for a better world.

Here’s the problem.

His version of a better world is blaming Paradis for everything so that everyone can run off holding hands to murder them all.

He’s willing to die to make that vision a reality.

He’s never met anyone on Paradis. He’s never tried to talk to anyone from Paradis. He’s used diplomacy with nations in the rest of the outside world to ease the horrific damage Marley being Marley has caused itself, but not once with Paradis.

When it comes to the island, murder is always the only solution.

Willy Tybur is the one Eldian with a position in the world that can make a real difference. He can get ambassadors to change their minds. Despite never taking advantage of it, he does have control over Marley. Under his direction, Marley might have avoided the mass series of war crimes that the rest of the world hates them for.

(not that we have any idea why that is)

He doesn’t go that route.

He determines that the best path to world peace is uniting the world to kill his ancestors’ scapegoat.

Martyrdom is not a thing you do because you’re too lazy to put effort into actual change.

It’s easy to look at what Eldians are capable of from birth and call them monsters. It’s easy to say that, obviously, they never should have existed. Even if you have that same blood, and want to be alive, it’s very, very easy to reach that conclusion.

What’s difficult is carving your place into a world that is predisposed to hate you. It takes time, and concentrated effort. It takes giving a damn about treating people decently.

Willy has the means to forge a peaceful, humane coexistence between Eldians and the rest of the world. Or at least the means to make that attempt.

He chooses to forge his peace in the blood of other Eldians. The fact that he’s willing to die for that outcome doesn’t magically turn it into a noble gesture. He’s strong enough to make a decision that will cost countless lives in a war based on nothing but fear and prejudice. And that would be after knowingly sacrificing people he thinks of as less worthy to a terrorist attack.

Ding-dong.

Speaking of, Eren’s response to Willy’s declaration isn’t exactly on the moral highground you’d appreciate from your protagonist, so that’s nice. His lunge is as horizontal as possible, but it would take authorial intervention to keep him from killing civilians when he goes after Willy.

The only way this doesn’t seem like a very bad idea is if Eren agrees with Willy’s decision.

...I want more of a warmup before looking at that too closely.

Elsewhere, Titans in pits.

Or not.

Zeke’s still the only one walking around free. Galliard and Pieck are out of whatever fight’s coming next.

None of that appears to be expected on the Marley side. It looks like they wanted their Warriors gathered when everyone went horribly wrong. Possibly to keep the level of wrongness to a minimum. How thoughtful.

It seems pretty fair to guess that Galliard and Pieck are the work of Eren’s friends, but Zeke and his fancy glasses that hide his eyeballs are a little harder to pin down. We get one shot of him, walking alone.

I’m willing to leave that for another month though, so to the other pit!

Falco being the Eren to Eren’s Reiner is painful. Here he had this thoughtful adult encouraging him all the way into committing treason. He was just being a good person, and Eren takes advantage of that.

And right after all of that hits, he gets to watch Mr. Braun self-destructing, and hears about dead friends and mothers.

Falco’s a good kid. Assuming that Reiner gets him out of this alive, he isn’t only going to take death and betrayals from this. He understands the toll of being a Warrior, and understands enough to hate that people are okay with Gabi selling her life to the role.

Eren looks right at him and says that the people inside the walls are the same as the people outside. I don’t know how well the doubt will stick, but if nothing else, I think there’s a good chance that Reiner won’t be able to keep up the lies about Paradis demons--to Falco, anyway.

Falco’s in this spot because he cares about people no one else sees. I don’t know how much of his path can be changed, given the decisions made this chapter, but I hope that the idea that everyone involved in this war is a person sticks with him.

Even though that will be infinitely more painful than just being a participant fighting off demons.

Oki doki, so.

Eren.

Eren has gone on a very educational journey of learning that people are people. Willy even helps him along by directly quoting something Eren says way back in Trost.

“Because... I was born into this world.”

They’ve all been born into this world, and they all want to live in it, freely.

Time to go attack that island!

Eren spends most of his time in the pit prying everything that went through Reiner’s head out of him. Not for the sake of condemning it. Just to hear the honest words of a man like him, who caused incredible pain in the name of saving the world.

Their whole talk is about their similar intentions and circumstances, and being understood. And finding forgiveness on a road that doesn’t deserve any.

“This whole time... it was painful for you, wasn’t it?”

“I think now... I understand that [...]

I was right. I’m... the same as you.”

Yeah, Eren brings down the house.

The final page is his hands extended in Titan form the same way Willy’s are when he makes his declaration.

Reciprocity. Yay.

There are a few concerning things here.

The murder’s pretty low on the list.

These would be the panels that earn Eren the kind of looks Reiner is the recipient of when he’s going through his identity trouble.

Eren, last seen back home speaking as his father and Eren Kruger, has supernaturally granted identity troubles, and not recalling death threats to the point of asking Reiner to ignore that they happened is... weird. Whether or not it means anything, who knows, but Eren’s general stability seems to be mimicking the style of someone who has recently done pot up to his magic handshake. There’s so much personal history involved that it makes sense that Eren’s the one mostly behind the wheel, but... yeah, I’ll stick with weird.

Adding to that is what he says during the magic handshake.

(the magic comes from friendship)

“I just keep moving forward. Until my enemies are destroyed.”

Once upon a time, Kruger explains to Grisha what the Attack Titan is all about.

“No matter the age, this Titan has always moved ahead, seeking freedom. It has fought on for freedom.”

Eren has altered the deal. Pray he doesn’t alter it any further.

No, but I’m not big on speculation. I like waiting to see what the next month brings instead. But I keep waiting for more on the individual Titans having sentience, and it’s hard not to wonder a little if Mr. Attack and Eren are experiencing some unnatural bleed-through.

I don’t know, some things just feel very odd.

Anyway, outside the tempting cracklands of detours, there’s a really uncomfortable prospect presented in this chapter that I would prefer being wrong about, but at the same time, hey, Eren’s causing destruction and murdering people, so clearly happy funtimes are over.

Eren smiles when Willy says he wants his audience to fight with him against Paradis. It is not full of happiness, exactly, but it is not the look you would expect from hearing that kind of statement. Some mix of acceptance and sadness, maybe?

There are a lot of people on Paradis who, if asked, would know the exact best moment to kill Willy that would encourage his message most efficiently.

Eren waits until Willy is done with his speech to kill him.

Willy’s just asked everyone he knows for helps against the island devils, and... Eren gives them one. Whatever destruction does or doesn’t follow, Willy’s message is heard in its entirety, and he’s killed by the enemy he asks for unity in facing.

If you want to limit his support, this is, by far, the worst way to do it.

So even though I can’t imagine why anyone would reach this conclusion, I have to wonder if Paradis agreed with Willy. If they agreed that a unified world could only come about through a common enemy and a martyr.

Thematically, I have all kinds of disagreements with that, but Eren couldn’t have fulfilled Willy’s plan any better if he’d been in the room listening to its design. At the end of a grand speech, a monster rushes out and kills the only one in the world brave enough to call all people to arms against this great threat.

It’s beautiful, and... very on the nose.

You could not pick a better time to attack.

...For Willy’s purposes.

Even if this wipes out a bunch of Marley military personnel, care has been taken to keep all of the Titans out of the way. The main force is secure and breathing. This is not an attack that will devastate; it will invigorate.

And I can’t shake the thought that someone on the Paradis side thought that that was the only hope the rest of the world’s Eldians had. And having said that... it’s hard not to wonder if that someone is Eren.

Staged martyrdom only works this smoothly if both sides have the script.

Or maybe Carla just raised Eren to believe that it’s rude to interrupt people.

I really don’t know how to feel about most of what happens here. This is another chapter that I’d like to think would be benefited by future ones.

Right now there’s just this ominous dread that makes it difficult to appreciate that I don’t have to read Willy talk anymore.

Nothing next month can’t fix, I’m sure.

#Shingeki no Kyojin #SnK 100 #shingeki no spoilers #SnK spoilers #spoilers #tl;dr #chapter post

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differentnutpeace · 3 years

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Vaccine Passports: 'Scarlet Letter' Or Just The Ticket?

It's happening millions of times a day. Pharmacists jab an arm with the COVID-19 vaccine and hand over a paper card certifying that the shot was administered, and when. หวย บอล เกมส์ คาสิโนออนไลน์

"This is your ticket to freedom soon," smiles pharmacist intern Ojashwi Giri, as she hand-writes the name and birth date of another newly vaccinated customer on one of the coveted cards at Union Pharmacy in Newton, Mass. "I'm sure you're going to want to treasure this."

It's the low-tech version of the "vaccine passports" that have become the latest pandemic wedge issue. As states and businesses are debating and using them, Americans are deeply divided on whether businesses should require them to prove a person is immunized before boarding a plane, or entering a bar or a baseball game. What some see as a commonsense safety measure, others denounce as a violation of privacy and civil liberties.

GOATS AND SODA

The Vaccine Passport Debate Actually Began In 1897 Over A Plague Vaccine

To many, it's no-brainer — a ticket back to normal life. Linda Simansky clutched her vaccination card, and beamed at the prospect of being able to venture out again with greater confidence. She says she's all for the idea of vaccine passports, and would definitely be more likely to patronize places that ask for them at the door, ensuring everyone else inside is also low-risk.

"I know its awkward," she says, "but they're not asking for [anyone's] life story, they're just trying to keep people safe, and trying to also keep their business. So, I think it's a win-win."

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"If we're going to end this nightmare, what we need is information," agrees Peter Wilson, a musician from Pheonix. "Some people pose less risk than others [...] and if people are making unsafe choices, the rest of us deserve to know. There's no sense in blindfolding ourselves."

Wilson sees it as no different than requiring students to get vaccines in order to attend school or camp. "We're just extending that to adults to keep everyone safe."

That's the idea behind New York state's "Excelsior Pass" that allows residents to flash a code from their phones which would earn them entry into anything from a Broadway show to a gym or even a private wedding. The nation's first such state-wide system, the Excelsior Pass has already been used at Madison Square Garden, Yankee stadium as well as smaller venues around the state, and while privacy features make it hard to pinpoint, state officials say hundreds of thousands of New Yorkers downloaded or at least started checking out the system in the two weeks since it launched.

CORONAVIRUS UPDATES

Florida Gov. DeSantis Rejects Vaccine Passports As 'Completely Unacceptable'

Judy Lisi, president and CEO of the Straz Center for the Performing Arts in Tampa, says a tool like that would be "essential" to reopening mass gathering venues like theaters that depend on a full house to survive.

"Why do you think these seats are so close to each other together behind me?" she says, pointing to the empty 2,640 theater seats on the image she uses as her Zoom backdrop. "Theaters [need] to put as many people in a space [as possible, in order to] pay for what's on stage."

Lisi says she was in the process of drawing up plans to use vaccine passports to screen patrons, when Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis preemptively banned businesses from requiring them.

"He's a pro-business proponent," Lisi says. "Why doesn't he allow businesses to do what we need to do then? The whole industry is relying on this. It's so frustrating."

But DeSantis and Texas Gov. Greg Abbot, who's also banned vaccine passports, as well as others argue they're a violation of privacy and civil liberties.

"It's completely unacceptable for either the government or the private sector to impose upon you the requirement that you show proof of vaccine to just simply be able to participate in normal society," DeSantis said.

Audra Young, from Haverill, Mass., who says she's not vaccinating because she doesn't trust it, agrees the passports are a bad idea.

"Just like it's your choice to own a gun, I mean, this is America, where we should have choice to pick what we want to do with our life," Young says. Vaccine passports "feel like it's going to be like a restricted society. It's like wearing the scarlet letter. It's crazy."

While much of the opposition to vaccine passports comes from those on the right who see it as a kind of Orwellian nightmare, there is concern on the left as well.

Judy Greenberg, of San Antonio, describes herself as "very liberal." She says she got the vaccine and hopes everyone else will too, but she's uncomfortable making people prove it for the privilege of dining out, for example.

"Being Jewish, I've always had this apprehension about [anyone saying] 'Show us your papers!'" Greenberg says, because it harkens back to the horrors Jews experienced in Nazi Germany. She's quick to acknowledge a vaccine passport is hardly the same thing, but she worries it would be prone to abuse. "It'll create two classes of human beings, almost like a caste system of vaccinated and unvaccinated. So then, what's next? It just makes me a little bit uneasy."

John Calvin Byrd III, has similar qualms. The self-described "far-left militant black man" lives in Los Angeles, and says he cringes at the thought of being seen as sharing the same concerns as "Trumpers," but he believes vaccine passports would impinge on his civil liberties. He says he and his family are not vaccinating, because they don't trust how fast the COVID-19 vaccines were rushed through the emergency authorization process, and because he doesn't trust Big Pharma.

THE CORONAVIRUS CRISIS

FAQ: What Is A Vaccine 'Passport,' And What Are These Credentials Used For?

But he thinks it's unfair to penalize people like him, by restricting his ability to go out for dinner, travel, or visit a park, museum, or grocery store.

"It's not like we committed a crime," he says. "We should be able to go and play and do whatever we want." He's also feeling pressure from his boss to vaccinate, and fears his decision not to, may cost him his job.

More broadly, Byrd worries that vaccine passports will exacerbate inequities for Black and Brown people, who are still less likely to be vaccinated — either by choice or because of lack of access.

"It puts people into separate groups, and one group has privileges and the other group does not [...] That keeps myself, my family and people like us in the margins," Byrd says.

Another concern is privacy. New York State Assembly member Ron Kim, says his state's "Excelsior Pass" is especially troublesome, given that it was developed in collaboration with a corporate giant, IBM.

"We're already dealing with big tech companies like Facebook and Google exploiting and extracting data without regular people even knowing that it's happening every day," Kim says. "Now we're allowing another path for companies to extract data and profit without our knowledge."

Both IBM and New York state officials, however, insist no personal data can be accessed or used for any such purpose. And no individual information is stored, or tracked. They say the Excelsior Pass only reads data that states already collect, to offer users the QR code that bouncers can scan to get a quick, clear green checkmark or a red "X." The same code can also indicate whether a user has recently tested negative for COVID-19, which many establishments screening customers may accept in lieu of a vaccination. For those without smart phones, results can be accessed on a computer and printed out instead.

Contrary to what many may think, given all the controversy, no state is mandating use of a vaccine passport; the Biden administration is also against any federal mandate, though officials say they're helping to develop guidance on privacy and equity issues. States can and do require large venues to screen customers for the coronavirus, but whether to do that with vaccine passports is still up to individual establishments.

SHOTS - HEALTH NEWS

Coronavirus Cases Are Rising Again. See How Your State Is Doing

Some venues see the apps as an easier, more reliable way to verify that patrons are low-risk for spreading the coronavirus. Digital apps may well be more difficult to hack than vaccination cards are to forge, and they'd likely be more effective and efficient than what many are doing now, which is taking everyone's temperature and reviewing health surveys that patrons answer on the honor system.

But other businesses, especially in the hospitality industry, are proceeding with caution. A "no shirt, no vaccine, no service" policy may come across as inhospitable, many say, and may turn of customers who restaurants need now more than ever. Also, many bars and restaurants are loath to take on the burden of vaccine enforcement, on top of what they already do, checking ID's to make sure everyone's legal to drink, and constantly policing customers who may have had too much to drink.

That said, establishments that are still struggling to survive a year into the pandemic are not ruling it out. Doug Bacon, president of Red Paint Hospitality Group, owns eight bars and restaurants in Boston; four remain closed, and four are open, but still unable to make money because of pandemic restrictions limiting capacity. If requiring vaccine passports would mean he could fully reopen, he says, "I might have to give in to that. "

Bacon says he's more open to requiring vaccine passport checks for staff. In the past year, all four of his open places had to shut down for a week or more, because an employee tested positive.

"We had to sanitize the whole restaurant and have everyone tested," he says. "Perishable food had to be thrown away, and I had no income, and I paid my staff and all my suppliers and my landlords while were closed, so it's been a tremendous additional financial burden on top of everything else."

Ultimately, some are hoping vaccine passports, will prove one last bitter pill to swallow to help hasten a return to normal. It may be the carrot that induces more people to vaccinate. Or, as with so much else that's been politicized during this pandemic, it may be seen as more of a stick, that only deepens divisions, stokes resentment and leads those who've been vaccine-hesitant to dig in their heels even more.

"This is just one more thing to throw in the mix that's going to divide our country even more," Young says.

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prorevenge · 7 years

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Try to get rid of me in an overseas big city? We'll get rid of you instead.

warning: long story. tl;dr at the end.

Context:

Back in 2011 me and my immediate family traveled to Saudia Arabia for Umrah, or what's known as the lesser pilgramage. You visit Makkah, make rounds around the Kaabah, pray with all your heart and soul, you get the picture. My dad and I were excited because we were all about going on a spiritual journey and casting away the problems of the world - but as it turns out, some problems just wouldn't leave us.

As soon as we landed in Jeddah's airport, our plan was to take a taxi to Makkah and get the Umrah done while we were still gung-ho about God. However, we were instead diverted to our relatives' house in Jeddah, where we discovered that 4 or 5 of my mothers' relatives and their families had gathered up and spontaneously crashed in my grandfather's house for one giant family reunion. Naturally, my dad and I, as well as my maternal grandfather, were really upset over this development as my mom's side of the family is full of ... for the lack of a more polite word, the shady folks. Most of them I was on good terms with, but once I realized that my least favorite Uncle and Aunt had come with the crew, my enthusiasm just deflated like a balloon.

For a quick comparison, Uncle Zubair and Aunt Rubina were the Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia of the family to me. They'd spoil their own kids rotten, be as stingy as they could with me before getting noticed, - and oh, did they loveto take advantage of the fact that I couldn't speak Urdu at all when I was younger - they talked smack about me and made fun of me for all sorts of things, and when my mother brought it up, they simply waved it off as me misunderstanding whatever they said in Urdu, and my mother trusted them. Sure, I couldn't speak the language well when I was 8, but I could damn well understand a lot of what they were saying, and just going through all of that really made me intensely dislike them.

Back to 2011, the entire rodeo of relatives comes up with a great plan - let's go complete our Umrah trip as a group of 23 people! It'll be a great time! Me and my father reluctantly agree to this, and before we head to Makkah, my father makes a little contingency plan for the rare occasion me or my siblings get lost. My mother shares it with the group, and everyone thinks its a good idea. If someone gets lost, we all return to (i.e.) X floor of the clocktower building and wait for the rest to come. No problems, right?

We go to Makkah, we have dinner in the clocktower hotel, and as I'm getting napkins to clean up after the food, the men split up and abruptly leave for the Kabah. The ladies already had left, and Aunt Rubina still at the table, waiting on the napkins.

When I ask her where all the men went, she smiles and points in the wrong direction, and also tells me twice that our contingency plan got changed, and we were to meet on Y floor if we got lost (instead of the original contingency plan).

Had I been older, I would have noticed something was very wrong with her words, but I was 15 years old and fearful of being left behind, and so I ran off without even doubting her. The result of her misleading me amounted to: 1 hour of checking out the entire hotel looking for my father and the men, then heading out to the Kabah and spending 3 hours circling the Kabah, distracted and heavily disturbed by the fact that I couldn't find them anywhere, and then heading back to the "new" contingency plan's location and crying myself to sleep on a rusty chair because none of the guards understood me, and I honestly thought I was lost for good.

A couple hours later, my father finds me, and he gets violently mad at me for 'ditching' the group and going to the wrong floor, but he realizes something's up as soon as I tell him what Aunt Rubina told me.

The men quickly arrive and hug me out, and when Uncle Zubair hugs me, he grins and asks me "Did you feel the despair?" before laughing it off as I take the next minute to process this man's words. The entire group of 23’s just trying to talk to me and see the positives out of the situation on the car ride back, but the whole time I just have one thought on my mind:

Did my uncle and aunt really just try to intentionally mislead me and lose me in a large city overseas?

I later tell my parents the whole story, my father's a little bit unsettled, and the rest of the trip continues with my parents keeping a close eye on me.

Revenge:

Back in 2015, we visited the homeland and met up with all these bozos who were excited to see my "mom's Amrikan family", and just as expected, Uncle Zubair and Aunt Rubina are in the mix. I decided not to say anything about what happened 4 years prior, and I make my mom promise not to say anything about the incident, as she loves to reminisce things.

About an hour into the trip, I realize that my Uncle and Aunt still think I have the same language comprehension I had when I was 8 years old. Amazing, how they think I'm so stupid – but in 2015 I was finally able to speak and understand Urdu fluently, but I wasn’t just going to tell them that. With that, I decided that I'd snoop around, and maybe sit through their shit again with a recorder, and show my mom that I was right all along (about them lying to my mom that they weren't shit talking me).

But this is where things get interesting.

Uncle Zubair takes me along with his son as we visit a couple different apartment and houses he has the keys for, and help him clean out the houses. "My neighbors are out on vacation, and they asked if I could help clean up for them." He tells me in his broken English, but I really doubt him between how fervently he's scouring the entire place and how he's indiscriminately throwing their belongings in giant trash bags and large rubber containers. Belongings of neighbors that apparently trusted him enough to leave their spare keys with him as they stayed with relatives in America or elsewhere for the summer.

It was weird and shady af, I'd never seen anything like this back in the states, but I connected the dots when on another day, Uncle Zubair's son called me from one of the said apartments and asked me if I could walk over there and pick him up. Turns out the house was almost entirely empty of anything the neighbors owned, and my cousin already set a bunch of his own stuff in there, and had the gall to tell me "Papa said this is my apartment now!"

What a riot! My uncle was robbing people of their apartments and houses when they were on vacation.

A week later of some unnoticed eavesdropping, and I learn that Aunt Rubina and my other cousin are doing this same dirty work in the state / province right next to ours. They had better English and told me that they were going to the other state to help my cousin “study,” and I was just nodding if off. Yeah, go study your lying ass off, as if I didn’t hear you at all 24 hours ago talking about cleaning house preparations.

We’re having dinner later that night with Uncle Zubair and a few other family members, and when there’s a lull in the conversation, he just asks me, “son, what’s your favorite part of the summer so far?” and I just smiled and replied in Urdu.

“I love the real estate work you’ve been doing! Could you help me get a property as well?”

His face just drains the moment he realizes I knew the shit he’s been pulling, and everyone at the table starts asking questions because my Uncle is the last guy to talk to about house-related matters. They prompt me for more information, and I just spill what his son said(“Papa said this is my apartment now!”) and what type of bullshit he and his wife were doing 5 towns over, and the next thing I know I’m taking my dinner plate back to my room as the drilling commences in the dining room.

As my family and the rest of the extended relatives finds out, he’s been clearing out apartments of neighbors who went overseas for the entire summer, maybe 10 or so such flats and little houses, and hauling their possession to a storage unit somewhere only God knows. The controversy gets really big, a couple homeowners get alerted and chase Aunt Rubina and my cousin out of other town, and it’s not long before my parents told me that our entire family pretty much disowned my Uncle and Aunt’s family for pulling this immoral bullshit when being trusted with peoples’ keys.

In the end, I never was able to stick him with the “Did you feel despair?” line he hit me with back in 2011, but man, am I glad I won’t have to deal with their shit again.

tl;dr uncle/aunt combination try to (intentionally) lose me in big city, they get disowned and publicly shamed when I expose a property stealing scheme a few years later

(source) (story by /throwaway47801)

#pro revenge #prorevenge #pro revenge stories #revenge stories #pro #revenge

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