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#(a la his poor handling of consequences— it’s in the future so it doesn’t matter what matters is the now)
enderspawn · 2 years
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it’s abt the fact when you build up someone so much and look up to them, after all this time no matter how much you miss them it’s scary.
bc seeing them means having to take them off that pedestal that you’ve been building up for years in their absence, based off the memories of a kid from a decade past. having to accept that they’re just another flawed person.
it’s having to accept how you’ve changed, that you aren’t that same kid they knew and if they even want the you now. it’s dreading the possibility that after all this time… you’ve just let them down. you didn’t become the person they wanted you to be, expected you to be. you’ve chnaged and you’ve become worse and suddenly this person that you’ve clung to for so long… doesn’t want you.
if you don’t know the answers then it means you can’t get a bad answer, either. for all that the unknown and waiting is painful, at least its safe
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marmolady · 3 years
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Homecoming: Part One
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Read PART TWO here!
Main Pairings: Estela x (f)MC, Graleister
Summary: Endless Ending. Estela and Taylor spend one last night in San Trobida before returning to La Huerta and facing their future. This was going to be a two-parter, but I got all long-winded, so four-parter is more like it.
Word Count: 3342
Chronology: After 'The New Taylor' and 'A Ride to Remember', sort of midway through 'Inheritance'.
Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @greengroove @mauvecatfic​
Thanks for reading!
Parrying the blows of her brother’s sword with the easy grace of a well-honed professional-- she had been doing this since her early teens-- Estela seemed to dance across the basement floor, totally in her element. Then Aleister lurched forward, and she jumped back, effortlessly dodging his attack. But in the landing, she found herself, finally, unstuck. Under the sudden weight of her whole body, her wounded leg gave way, and she stumbled. In a split second, Aleister’s cautious approach fell away and he pushed his advantage before Estela could recover. With a final flick of his blade, she was disarmed.
Estela laughed at the look of plain shock on Aleister’s face at his own victory. “Not half bad,” she commented, impressed that he hadn’t fumbled around taking advantage of her weakness. Her healing leg injury had been a source of great frustration-- despite regular massages of the Vaanti-made ointment concocted using the leaves from The Celestial’s roof, improvement had plateaued. The last thing she wanted was to be babied. “You’re still wasting too much energy with flamboyant gestures. This isn’t ballet-- it doesn’t have to look pretty.”
“Well, it certainly doesn’t appear that ‘pretty’ has hindered my performance,” Aleister panted, recovering just enough to be rather pleased with himself.
Offering a hand to take Aleister’s sword, Estela grinned. “Like I said, not half bad. Come on, hermano. We’d better give Tio a hand in the kitchen; it sounded like he had a big spread planned.”
Brother. That was still new. Only in the lead-up to his hand-fasting to Grace a few months prior had Estela gone so far as to utter that word in relation to Aleister. He reacted as he always did, a double-take, then his cheeks going immediately pink. It had been so long he’d craved that acceptance… now that it was there, it seemed it would take him some getting used to.
All attempts at helping Nicolas out with the farewell dinner were met with strong resistance. Some butting of heads later, Estela realised it really wasn’t a hill worth dying on; if her tio wanted to do something special for them all, she’d just have to step back and let him. After all, it could well be some time before he’d have this opportunity again. Come the next day, she, Taylor, and their friends, would all be on their way, and Nicolas would once more be left to an empty house.
As much as she tried to join in the energetic conversations over dinner, Estela found herself distracted. With her return to La Huerta, she’d be taking steps to move on with her life; to come to terms with the grief she’d suffered and get some closure. And then… she was faced with working out what the hell kind of life she’d forge for herself; something that had been made all the more complicated since Aleister had seen fit to bestow upon her half of everything he’d been left after Rourke’s demise. She’d made good progress on coming to peace with that connection, but she was not fool enough to be under any illusions… she still had a long way to go.
The subject of conversation turned to the case against Lundgren-- and the subsequent clearing of Jake’s name-- and Estela shook herself back to the present.
“The evidence is fairly damning,” Aleister was saying as he loaded his fork with beef, egg and plantain. “Certainly, the prosecutors were pleased. That we have access to every file my father ever touched, and a wealth of video and audio recordings, it would be difficult indeed to look at what’s presented and not come back with a guilty verdict.”
Jake smiled wryly, the grin failing to make his eyes. “I’ll give ya one thing, Malfoy, your old lady ain’t a dame I’d want to get on the wrong side of. I guess… we’ll see. Worst case, settlin’ down out here wouldn’t be half bad.”
“We won’t rest until you’re home,” Grace declared resolutely, her dark eyes shining. “That awful man isn’t going to be remembered as anything other than a power-hungry conniving brute. I’ll stand up and make a witness statement in court myself!”
She had, Jake knew, her own haunting personal experiences of seeing that exact brutality at close quarters. It made him sick. “Hey-- I won’t have you dredging up all that. Not for me--”
Grace spoke across him, calmly but firmly. “It’s my stand to take. I had quite enough of being helpless as Rourke’s prisoner; I need to take my power back.”
Jake’s mouth snapped shut. He wasn’t about to argue with that. “The poor defense won’t know what hit it.” The words rang hollow as exchanged a subtle dark look with Estela. The optimism was nice and all, but experience had told the both of them that the world was a corrupt place and ‘fair’ barely counted for squat.
“I know you think I’m naive,” Grace said, “and maybe I am, but the fact remains that we’re not giving in.”
Taylor grinned, confident because she had to be. “I didn’t offer my life force to some crystal alien only for you to not get back to your family. This is a matter of ‘how’ and ‘when’, not ‘if’.”
Beside her, Estela nodded. “Look, we’d be crazy if we just go in assuming this is gonna be a cakewalk. But Pollyanna here is right; we’ll make it happen. We’re not the kind of people who just roll over to injustice, and anyone who thinks they can force us is in for a painful lesson.”
“Dang, Princess… I think you broke Eeyore. She’ll be a motivational speaker at this rate….”
“It’s Katniss, cabron. Y vete a la mierda.”
Jake sniggered into his beer. So, motivational speaker was a little stretch.
With dinner over, the group started disperse. As Estela made to make a start on clean-up, Taylor gently turned her around.
“I’m pretty sure me and Al can handle this. Make the most of tonight.”
Estela looked out through the window to the front porch, where Nicolas had settled with his flask of rum. She took a deep breath. Taylor was right; she couldn’t just let this time pass her by.
Cold beer in hand, she pushed open the front door and stepped out. “It seems like Aleister and Grace’s first bandeja paisa was a hit.”
Nicolas beamed at the sight of her, and clinked her bottle as she sat down in the other chair. “Of course. Either that or they are exceptional actors.”
“No chance,” Estela laughed. “You’ve seen the looks he gives poor Taylor’s cooking. Her confidence has been shot since they’ve been here. At least Grace is polite about it.”
“You must be excited. I’ve said for so long that your potential was being wasted, and now… the world is your oyster. I never thought I’d see the day.”
Estela shifted in her chair and took a long drink.
“What’s that look for, mija?”
“Well, yeah, I’m excited. Terrified, but…. If I finish this degree, I really should think of what I want to do with it. And, well, all that money Aleister’s pushing on me.”
“That gilipollas. You poor thing.”
“Actually, I’m almost getting used to the idea. As much as it freaks me out, Mom would have been so happy to know I’ve got a leg up.” A small smile crept to Estela’s face. “I keep seeing so many things I could help with. Like the schools and universities-- how much could recovery be accelerated if people had better opportunities to learn? Or physically rebuilding so much that had been destroyed, or actually protecting the wilderness of this beautiful place?” She blushed as she caught herself getting passionate. “Rourke International has the capacity to do so much; we could actually have tourists coming here. That hasn’t happened in my lifetime!”
Nicolas chuckled, looking at his niece with clear affection. But he saw the cloud of doubt across her face.
“I…,” she continued, “I just don’t know that I have the right. We just got rid of one dictator, and Mom was collateral damage to a would-be dictator.” A would-be dictator who’s inescapably part of who I am. “Money comes with a lot of power. Even if I’m using it for what I think is good… I could cause a lot of harm.” By the time she finished, her voice was but a murmur.
“True. Alternatively, you could be one of those misers who sit upon their millions while the people around them starve and suffer, buildings crumble, and forests burn.”
“So, you’re saying I can’t win?” Estela demanded.
“I’m saying, the enemy here is ignorance. Ignorance of what greater impacts of your generosity might be, and ignorance of what suffering might go on if that generosity is withheld. The fact that you are even having these doubts tells me that you are not ignorant to the consequences of your actions.”
Estela huffed thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose,” she grumbled after a little while, “that you’d let me be, even for a second.”
“Of course not! I might be getting on a bit, but I am by no means past letting you know when you ought to unstick your head from your own backside.”
Again, Estela fell quiet. She was not going to be existing in an echo chamber. She’d surrounded herself with people that she trusted, with strong opinions and varied perspectives; people who would not balk from challenging her when necessary. If she tried, she couldn’t become a tyrant, regardless of what blood coursed her veins. At any rate, she’d simply be-- for the most part, at least-- channeling funds to others better placed to make the change she wanted to see in her world. She could be as anonymous as she wanted. Perhaps… perhaps it would not hurt to put some faith in herself.
“I take it from your silence,” Nicolas said, “that you’ve realised that once again I’m right. Now, go back to happily daydreaming about all the good you will do.”
Estela sighed dramatically, but smiled at her uncle. “I’m really gonna miss you….”
“I can’t pretend I’ve been looking forward to waking to an empty house again. But the missing you will be temporary; that’s more than I could have dared to hope for not so long ago.”
The same was true for her. And there was no way in hell she’d let goodbye be forever, not now. “Yeah. You’ve got a good point.”
“Again?”
She snorted. “Shut up, Tio.”
_________________________
The night wore steadily on, and Taylor eventually had to retreat from socialising with Nicolas’ other guests to start making headway on her night-time routine. ‘Self-care’ was something she now had down to an art; she even made a point of noting down the steps taken each night so she could easily track what was most effective. By this point, she had a fairly solid schedule. Yoga was followed by a calming cup of mint or chamomile tea, sometimes accompanied by a hot bath-- though tonight it was too late for the nice long soak she’d prefer--, and then she’d wind down even further with a half-hour’s guided meditation. Jake teased her mercilessly, but she really didn’t give a damn. If she could de-stress just enough to keep the seemingly never-ending stream of horrifying nightmares at bay, he could laugh all he wanted.
Slowly, Taylor wiggled her fingers and toes, bringing herself back to the land of the living with a long exhale. Fifteen nights without being woken up by visions of her loved ones’ deaths was the best run she’d ever had, but if those nightmares were triggered by stress, then the imminent return to La Huerta might just be the trigger that would throw a spanner in the works.
The little dog, Fenix, stretched forward and licked Taylor’s toes.
“Okay, okay, I’m back! Was I ignoring you for too long? Thanks for not interrupting my meditation, I guess,” Taylor chuckled. Having the pet had done wonders for grounding her during her regular existential crises. Fenix had come a long way from the mangy worm-ridden creature they’d taken in; still scruffy even with a full coat of hair, she was now bright as a button, and with a tail that never seemed to stop wagging.
“You’d better enjoy having me to yourself while you still can, Nixie-- this time tomorrow, we’ll probably have Furball sleeping on the end of the bed as well.”
Happily oblivious Fenix rolled and tumbled in her human’s lap. Foxes with ice powers were far beyond her frame of reference, but she could sense that whatever Taylor was talking about made her happy, so naturally there was every reason to be in a good mood.
The door creaked, and a just-showered Estela entered the room, clad only in a towel.
“Hey. I heard you talking to Nix-- figured you’d finished your meditation.”
“Hey,” Taylor cooed, feeling herself practically melt as her wife reached down to stroke her hair. “I just finished; went pretty heavy on the self-care tonight, just to be safe. You ready for bed?” She let herself be helped to her feet, and wrapped an arm around Estela’s waist. “Last cuddle in your little single bed for a while.”
Estela smiled. “Last cuddle in our little single bed.”
Taylor changed into her pyjamas and nestled under the covers, waiting and watching in quiet contentment as Estela slipped into a singlet and a light pair of shorts.
“You are so, so beautiful, you know that?”
“Taylor, you tell me that ten times a day.”
“Just making sure you’re aware, lover.” Taylor pressed herself against the wall, making room on the tiny mattress.
“You ordered a cuddle, yes?” Estela kissed and nibbled along Taylor’s jaw, feeling a tremor of an exhale, then sat back to look into the sapphire gaze of her adoring wife. Beautiful just wasn’t big enough.
“So… how are you feeling about tomorrow?” Taylor ventured.
“A lot of things,” Estela admitted. “Getting on that plane to La Huerta is going to bring back a lot of stuff. And saying goodbye to Tio… well, let’s just say, we’d better have a lot of tissues packed.”
Taylor squeezed her tight. “It’s not forever this time. And I think he knows that-- otherwise you’d be leaving again over his dead body.”
That made Estela give a little snort of laughter, but then she shook her head, sighing. “I know the guilt I’m feeling is irrational. Tio is just so happy to see how much things have changed for me. He wants me to go out and live my best life. But that doesn’t mean I can stop myself feeling it, just like that.”
Taylor didn’t have a lot of life experience, but guilt? That, she knew all about. “We’re just going to have to keep talking to that irrational part of your brain, then. Honey, your tio thought you were dead for so long-- you coming back every now and then, smiling, on your way to healing… that’s just the most amazing gift you could give him. And maybe… it’s going to help him move on too.”
“Yes.” Man, I hope so. Estela knew that her uncle had closed himself off to the world. That he’d seen that he’d done his part in life, and then retreated from it. He joked around, but for so long he’d been broken inside. Now, they could make strides towards something better, together-- even if there was a distance between them. Now, Estela had hope for them both.
Taylor snuggled close, spooning her wife from behind, and leaving  lingering kisses upon her neck and shoulders.
“What about you?” Estela asked softly, turning in the warm embrace so she could meet Taylor’s eye. “I guess this will feel like going home.”
“Yeah, I guess it will be. Something like that. It’s a very… it’s a very weird feeling, you know?”
“I can imagine. It’s going to be strange to be back on La Huerta without everyone. The village is gonna be like a ghost town.”
A small smile tugged at Taylor’s lips; in spite of her own worries. Estela sure was perceptive. “It’s kind of freaking me out.” Of course, Estela already knew that, but it had never hurt to actually put the words out there. It was quite clear that they both had to look forward to a crash course in moving on. But that they were alive, and together, and free to do so… it was everything they’d fought for. “I’m bursting to see Diego again, though. It must have been so much weirder for him these past months.”
There was a grumbling, grunting sound as Fenix settled herself into a nest made out of the clothes Taylor had left on the floor. Both women chortled. Nothing like a funny little dog to keep the mood light.
Estela tenderly stroked Taylor’s hair, loving her. “You’ll have a lot to catch up on. It’s gonna mean a lot to him to have you there.” She blushed. “It… means a lot to me to have you here.”
“Good. Because you’re stuck with me.”
“Taylor, we all are. And you’re stuck with us. There’s nothing that can change that.”
As she looked into Estela’s soft gaze, Taylor’s heart swelled. If she knew anything at all, she knew that much. All she had to do was trust in that sweet certainty.
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anthropwashere · 4 years
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Phic Phight: set the self upon the shelf
Prompt from @five-rivers: Jack and Maddie acquire the pieces of Freakshow's staff.   
@currentlylurking @phicphight
Word count: 3,841
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In hindsight, Danny should have expected something like this to happen. He'd been on a good streak; a really good streak. No catastrophes, no explosions, no be-all, end-all ultimatums with terrible creatures trying to squeeze the life out of some poor schmuck trying to go about their day. Heck, aside from a few toothy Day-Glo bright beasties waking him up just shy of his alarm and the usual irritation of the Box Ghost haranguing the nearest postal office, things have been easy. There hasn't even been any test to stress out over. So with how his luck usually is, he's overdue for a bad day. 
Today's that day, turns out. It's just not so obvious as bad days usually go for him anymore. It's insidious, creeping, sly. 
Worst of all, his parents are the ones to blame, and they're not even trying to take Phantom apart molecule by molecule this time.
It's a Wednesday, as dull as any other Wednesday can be, when he unlocks the front door of FentonWorks, leaving it open for Sam and Tucker to come in after him. They're all in the middle of another round of friendly bickering, some he-said she-said I-read-this-article goofing with no stakes or real anger in any of their threats to shut the others up. They're just goofing. Danny locks the door once they're in, punches in the pass code on the panel his parents had installed a couple months back so the trigger-happy security system doesn't take umbrage with whatever-the-hell just strolled in through the front door. Tucker's managed to bamboozle the security somehow—Danny can almost follow along with the concept of coding if Tucker's in the mood to skip the jargon, but sit him in front of a command prompt with nary a word of English to be found and his whole brain just fritzes out in self-defense—and point is, the security recognizes Danny's not very human, but it does the software equivalent of a shrug and dumps the notifications into a hidden folder his parents would need to get real creative finding. 
He means to lead them to the stairs to dump their backpacks off in his bedroom before raiding the kitchen. The Box Ghost had decided to ruin lunch today instead of Algebra, like a jerk, and Danny's starving as a consequence of his sandwich ending up on the floor and burning up a ton of energy chasing the idiot around the entire school six times. He's trying not to laugh as Sam keeps up her rant on how unreliable sad nerds on forums are for relaying what cocaine-addled movie producers in LA may or may not have agreed to, when Tucker says, "Danny?"
"Yeah?"
"Where you going?"
Danny blinks. He's halfway down the stairs to his parents' lab. He didn't even notice. "Uh," he says, turning around. Sam and Tucker are still on the top step, raising identical eyebrows at him. "Sorry. Habit."
"BG can wait, dude. I didn't get to eat either."
"Ha. Right."
They go upstairs, Sam picking up her rant again on the second-floor landing. They drop their bags off in his room and tromp downstairs again. Danny flicks the light switch on as he passes through the doorway to the—
"Danny?"
He blinks. Halfway down to the lab again, and he'd been sure he was in the kitchen this time. He swallows, putting on a sheepish grin for his friends as he trots back up to them again. Tucker looks amused so he almost thinks he's gotten away without worrying them, but one look at Sam tells him to dump that hope in the trash and forget about it. Her painted mouth is downturned and distinctly worried. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he says. The funny thing is, it's not even a lie. "Why?"
She hesitates, then shakes her head. So he's not worrying her enough that she needs to make a parade of it. That's good. That's great. All he wants to focus on right now is microwaving the entire box of taquitos his Dad snuck into the grocery cart the last time his parents went shopping, and then eating it as fast as half-humanly as possible. 
Jazz comes home while they're all splayed out in the kitchen, poking her head in to say hi and ask if he needs any cover stories drummed up with lunch having been so chaotic. "Nah," he assures her, "I'll just dump the Box Ghost into the Portal after Mom and Dad go to bed. Thanks, though."
"Patrol tonight?"
"Always."
"Let me know when you head out?"
"Sure."
She smiles at him warmly, and not for the first time is Danny glad to have her in on his secret. She's overbearing and controlling and way, way too worried about rule-breaking, but still. It's nice. He trusts her, he loves her, and he gets no small amount of delight at having her in on all the ridiculous excuses he concocts for his parents. He has no idea how he managed so long without her helping him keep his secret. 
"Don't let him do anything stupid," she tells Sam and Tucker. Tucker gives her a mock-salute without looking up from his phone. 
"That's a tall order," Sam says with a roll of her eyes. Danny elbows her. She elbows him right back, and hers are sharp.
Jazz laughs so hard she snorts. It's a sure sign she's comfortable around Danny's friends, which is a lovely relief all on its own. For all that they don't talk much about not-ghost stuff, Danny knows she's struggled to make friends for a long time, knows she's lonely, knows she's just as happy to be included in all the Phantom business as he is to have her there beside him. She waves a touch sarcastically at them and goes off to her own room, presumably to be a good straight-A student and do all her homework for the rest of the month somehow. 
Whatever. Danny's got a full-sized mountain of taquitos to plough through and nothing the least bit life-threatening on his radar for the foreseeable future. That's as sure to change in the next five minutes as it always is. He's used to having a tight knot of panic clenched around his heart and/or the funny little cold spot where his ghostly core leaks through to his human side. He's always on edge, always ready for something. It's half the reason he can't remember the last time he got a decent night's sleep, too stressed to do more than toss restlessly in his bed until the wee hours, and the proper ghosts all seemed to have unanimously decided that five a.m. is the best time ever to come charging through the Portal to cause a little pre-dawn havoc.
"Danny?"
He blinks, and he's halfway down the stairs to the lab again.
He licks his lips, swallowing nervousness. He... he doesn't even remember leaving the kitchen. He looks over his shoulder to find Sam and Tucker up on the top step again, equal amounts of concern furrowing their brow. Down in the lab he hears his parents' voices, just low enough that he can't make out individual words over the heady thrum of the Ghost Portal. "Uh," he says.
"Something's wrong," Sam says. it's not a question.
"I'm okay," he says automatically. "Really. Not lying. Just... I dunno. Let's go upstairs."
They go upstairs. Danny plows through his taquitos as originally intended, relaying through rude mouthfuls that he really does feel fine, totally normal (for him, shut up Tucker). He doesn't think he's losing time or anything as worrying as that. He's just... going through the motions so much that he doesn't even notice when he misses his mark.
Sam and Tucker do not like the sound of that, but he convinces them to let it lie. His parents are probably just working on some new gadget. He'll take a look at the lab later tonight. It's not like it feels evil or anything. It doesn't even hurt, which considering the trend of ghost hunting gizmos they've drummed up the last few months is a welcome change of pace. It's fine, really. He's fine, really.
"If you're sure," Tucker says, doubtful.
"I am. Give it a rest, will ya?"
They do, and they reluctantly bunker down to make a decent dent in their homework so they won't have to worry about it in that anxious gray waiting after dinner with their families and before they can sneak out for patrol. Normal kids do their homework after dinner. Not them. They're halfway between valedictorian and delinquent in their habits, toeing the line between abandoning homework entirely and only keeping up with it as best they can to avoid any unnecessary eyes. Danny can't afford the extra attention. 
The afternoon wanes, evening looming like an executioner's axe—Sam and Tucker are all too aware of how long they've gone without a proper catastrophe too—and sooner than they'd prefer it's time to part ways. Sam and Tucker gather up their things and hide away their patrol schedules and the like in the hollow space in Danny's ceiling as per usual. Then the three of them tromp down the stairs again to dump their plates in the sink and pay lip service to a goodnight until tomorrow in case Danny's parents are around. They're not at first glance, or at second glance for that matter, but better safe than sorry. Danny starts to follow them to the door, uneasy of the doorway down the lab yawning like a mouth, and this time he feels it—
(come here)
—but there's nothing for it. Knowing he's being bidden down the basement doesn't stop him from swiveling on his heel to start down the polished stairs. It's only Sam's quick reaction that stops him only two steps down, her hand a firm vice on his bent elbow. 
"Yeah," he says, a little breathless with surprise. "Felt it that time."
"Only that time?" Tucker asks in a tone firmly detailing how little he likes the sound of that. 
Danny looks over his shoulder to nod at them both. "It doesn't hurt," he reminds them. "It's okay. I can handle—whatever it is they're doing down there."
"Tell Jazz," Sam says, which is surprising enough that Tucker gawks at her too. It's not like she and Jazz get along, after all. Danny promises, too surprised to scoff or tease her for worrying over nothing. Maybe that should've been a warning sign too.
He waves them off at the door, locking it and punching in the code again with a habit so well-honed he doesn't even think about it, and before he knows it he's blinking harsh neon green light out of his eyes. Down in the basement, and he only remembers walking down the stairs after the fact.
"Danny-boy!" His dad shouts with his usual boisterous energy from over near one of the examination tables. His mom's off at one of the far counters, bent over a heavily modified microscope. Both of them have their hoods up, and Danny has to swallow a shiver when his dad looms too close. Something about the goggles always reminds him of how a praying mantis' eyes bulge; charmingly goofy right up until it snatches its prey up in its scythe-like forearms. 
"H-hey, Dad."
"Whoa, is it that late already? Baby cakes, it's almost six!"
His mom straightens up with a murmured groan as her back pops audibly. Her red-lipped smile ratchets right up into something uncanny and wrong without her eyes visible to soften the bright flash of teeth. "Is it? Oh, hell, I completely forgot to take the hamburgers out to thaw. Danny—hi, sweetie—do you mind calling in take-out? Your choice." 
"Uh. Sure, no problem." Funny. Never mind the taquitos he devoured an hour ago, he's always on the cusp of starving. Ghost powers or puberty, or both. He doesn't know and it doesn't really matter so long as nobody notices how much he puts away without gaining an ounce. He casts a wide glance around the lab, feigning bored curiosity, hoping to find some strange new device with his dad's face stickered all over it that will explain this weird urge demanding he be down here—
—and feels his heart and core both stutter at the sight of what's laid beneath his dad's broad hands.
"What," he chokes out. It's all he can manage. His usual anxiety—something's coming, something will come for him, any moment now, any moment, soon soon soon—transmogrifies into a full-blown panic attack so fast he feels the air in his lungs literally, genuinely freeze. He clenches his jaw against the coughing fit threatening to expose him as wrong, pointing at the long black staff laid on the table instead.
"Oh, this? You're never gonna believe it, Dann-o." His dad beams at him, proud of his work and glad his son's taking an interest in it. "We got a call yesterday on the 800 number. Some hiker found this thing absolutely covered in little ghosts down in Little Grand Canyon and figured this thing oughta have a proper once over from us instead of being left to lie where the river'd dumped it."
"It appears to generate a frequency too high for humans to perceive," his mom chimes in, walking over to join them at the table. She shoos a small sparrow-looking ghost away with naked disgust curling her mouth; it goes sailing on stiff wings off to settle on a sturdy crate off in one corner, red eyes leaving streaking after-images as it twists and ducks its little head, taking in all the strangeness of the lab. Danny pretends as hard as he can that he can't hear it asking, where am i? where am i? 
"That's right," his dad confirms, plucking the staff up with a frivolous little twirl that has his mom swatting his shoulder with a laugh. "There must have been thirty birds and snakes and the like swarming all over this thing when we got there this morning. We had to melt the lot of them to get our hands on this thing, and we've got no idea yet what got them so interested in this thing."
"At first glance it's only a simple iron-wrought staff," his mom says, tugging it free from his dad's hands to display the detailed bat at its top and the glittering shards of crimson-colored glass running down its back. "But see this glass? There's a tremendous amount of energy emitting from it—harmless to humans, don't worry. But that bird's the seventh ghost we've seen since we brought this thing down here. Something about the frequency is compelling to ghosts. They have to come see what's going on. Although why they feel such a compunction or what this thing's original purpose was is beyond me...." 
In the back of Danny's mind he hears an echo of an echo of Freakshow's voice urging him on. (take it. bring it back to me. come home. come home to me.)
"Yeah," he manages thinly. "Weird."
They ramble on for a while, too giddy to have him showing an interest in their work to recognize that his interest stems from something adjacent to terror. He musters a rictus grin, nodding like some wall-eyed bobblehead toy when they look to him for input. All the while the beady red eyes of the bat on the staff burn his skin like lit cigarettes, like brands, like red-hot manacles he might not be able to shake this time.
(come here,) the staff bids him, its voice so gentle it could his own mind assuring him that this is the best idea he's ever had. (take me. bring me home. bring me to him. it will all be so much better once we're his again.) 
"Dinner," he chokes out eventually, backing away toward the stairs. "I should—order. Order. Dinner. Pizza?"
"Sounds good to me," his dad says cheerfully. "You know what I like."
"My wallet's in the kitchen," his mom adds.
(stay,) the staff says. (take me. bring me home.)
"Nngh," he says, nodding dutifully. He doesn't know who to. It takes far more effort to climb the stairs this time, his grip white-knuckled on the banister, his gaze reluctantly dragged away from the basement and up to the living room. Once there he blinks, feeling the tug of the staff fade to something slight again. He can ignore it up here, but now that he knows what it is he can't stop hearing-feeling it. 
(come here,) it urges. (downstairs. i'm here. take me back. take me home. come home with me—)
He slaps his hands over his ears (for all the good it does), and stomps over to the kitchen where the landline is. Pizza. He. He's gotta order dinner. His parents will suspect him if he doesn't do this one perfectly normal thing. 
He dials. He orders. He fumbles around his mom's wallet for her debit card. He manages a stammered apology to the person on the line, who laughs indulgently and tells him "No worries!" in a tone that says she knows how young he is just by his voice. Underestimating him. Simple human. Stupid human. He could show her how wrong she is. He should show her. Scare her. Make her scream. Hurt her—
He drops the phone, breathing heavily.
Shit. 
Shit.
"Hello?" The girl's tinny voice asks uncertainly, a hundred miles away at his feet.
He picks the phone up. "S-sorry. Anyway, the number's...."
He finishes the order. The girl on the phone tells him to expect the driver to arrive in about 45 minutes. He makes a few incomprehensible noises that might translate to something like a thank you if the girl happens to feel real generous. He's never calling this pizza place again.
Once the phone's back on the receiver he bolts up through the ceiling, straight up to the roof, past the Ops Center, up up up until he feels the final sticky thread of the staff let him go, until he's skirting the scraggly cloud cover and thinking clearly enough to realize he really ought to ditch visibility while he's up here trying to figure out what the fuck he's gonna do next.
Freakshow's in jail.
Freakshow doesn't have the staff.
Freakshow can't control him now. He can't. He can't.
It's the staff. Just the staff down there, and whatever about it that makes it so—intoxicating? Smothering? Comforting?
He's far enough away that it's easy to recoil from that. It's not a comfort. It's not. It's not easy, or gentle, or good. It's piano wire tugging on his joints, turning his mind to so much waterlogged cotton. There's no knowing what the staff would do to him without someone at the metaphorical wheel. Just because what he remembers from when Freakshow controlled him is a warm, soft cocoon doesn't make it right. He put humans—people—in the hospital. He stole thousands of dollars worth of jewelry from eight different stores in six days. He nearly killed Sam. 
These are things he knows because he was told them secondhand. He read articles, watched news reports, listened to Sam shakily try to convince him that she was okay, really, just as he'd done to her a hundred times before. 
But the truth of the matter is this: he has no concrete memories of that week spent under Freakshow's thumb. He remembers warmth, and rightness, and glee. He remembers feeling a good so giddy it might be better than any description of any drug he's ever heard of. He knows the comedown was hard, and disorienting, and cold, and that he couldn't shake the ring of Freakshow's laughter in his ears for weeks. He knows that the majority of him hated every minute of not being himself. He knows that nine-tenths of him still feels a touch unclean in a way he doesn't know how to voice to Sam and Tucker, to know that he did those things without any semblance of self, and that last little part of him reveled in just... letting go. Running wild. In doing things for the fun of it and not caring at all about consequences, because what did consequences matter to a ghost?
There's a very, very tiny part of himself that wishes for the freedom of that feeling. Yoked and manacled in the sticky, impossible-to-resist way of magic, but free from the burdens of Danny Fenton. No expectations, no future, no what-ifs, no curfews, no algebra. Just Phantom. Just free to do whatever he pleases.
Skittishly he looks down at FentonWorks a thousand feet below, unsure if he's put enough distance between himself and the staff, unsure if he can trust his own thoughts yet. He doesn't know. He doesn't think there's any way to know for sure.
What should he do?
What can he do?
Just being within easy reach of the staff puts prickles all down his spine, numbs his hands and feet and tongue. He broke it. That's how he got free of Freakshow. He dropped it to save Sam because she was more important, and it broke, and now he's free. He's free. He is.
Maybe the orb-thing wasn't the source.
Maybe....
He doesn't know.
He can't let his parents keep it. That much he does know. If they figure out how to utilize it, even at a fraction of what Freakshow was capable of, then there'd be no winning. Phantom could barely fight it with Sam begging for her life right in front of him, and that was with a stranger at the reins. If his mom or dad told him to come down to the lab and lay down on an examination table....
He can't.
He can't.
What can he do?
His hip buzzes, so unexpected he drops twenty feet before catching himself with a yelp. His first instinct is that it's an attack, and he switches to Phantom and throws up a shield faster than thought, twisting around in the dark trying to find the source, trying to see who's coming for his throat next—
It's his phone. A text. That's all. No more, no less.
He changes back, not trusting his shaky hands with gloves on. It's from Jazz, asking where he's at. He calls her back, and she answers on the third ring.
"Hey, Danny," she says, relief audible in her voice. "Was there a ghost?"
"Uh-uh," he says. "Worse. Jazz, I—I need a favor."
"What was that? You broke up."
"Oh. Uh. Hang on." He drops hundreds and hundred of feet in free fall, watching the Ops Center racing up to meet him, all its floodlights swiveling round and round on automated patterns. He halts on a dime, far faster than any human could endure, and feels only an irritating tug on his bones as he swivels to find balance again. "Can you hear me now?"
"Yeah, that's better. What's up?"
He takes a deep breath. "I need a favor. A really, really big one."
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nathburnett0704 · 3 years
Text
A night in Brixton
INT. GYM LOCKER ROOM/CHANGING ROOM-NIGHT TIME
The message of this script was to represent that despite the background an individual may come from whether it be a rich or a poor one does not have to abide by the stereotype surrounding their community. Which is exactly what I did with Jane and John with Jane coming from a rich conservative background with a passion to pursue a boxing career, and with John coming from a poor south London background and wanting to become a writer. The journey the two of these characters experience throughout the narrative shapes the way in which John see’s the world and in result inspires content for his writing, which is made clear in the climax of this short story.      
A woman with long black hair and olive skin wearing a red Nike training bra with white and red shorts is sitting on a bench fastening wraps around her hands with quick pace and precision.
standing next to her is another woman about 5ft with short black hair tied in a pony tail wearing a white blouse with black skinny jeans and a pair of worn black and white chuck Taylors
               JANE    I've told you I don't want to go through this with you again
               OLENNA    I just think you should think about your options and the consequences Jane, It's a risky situation
               JANE    What have I got to worry about? You've seen me train, you know how good I am. as a matter of fact you've been with me since the beginning
               OLENNA    Yes I know that and I will admit that your good bu-
Jane cuts her off
               JANE    Good?
               OLENNA    Okay your brilliant, but the point is what do you think your parents will do if they find out that instead of attending the debate club after school you've actually been beating the shit out of bags and sparring partners in Brixton. I mean knowing them they'll be angrier about you hanging around Brixton than they are with you boxing and bunking off of extra curricular activities.
               JANE    I'll handle that situation when I'm faced with it, as far as I'm aware they have absolutely no clue what I do here and if I can keep that up then I'll have nothing to worry about. Also your bunking off as well so shouldn't you worry about your own parents finding out rather mine?
               OLENNA    Of course not, as opposed to you my mother isn't a Conservative MP and my Father Isn't a Judge. They are both Bankers and if they both found out what I was doing I think they'd support my point of view given I'm here to support a friend.
               JANE    Ooo Friend
               OLENNA    Shut up Jane!
A bald old man with square glasses and a beer belly wearing a striped black and white referee t-shirt knocks on the door.
               JANE    Yes!
               REFEREE    5 Minutes love
               JANE    Okay thankyou
The referee leaves and closes the door. Jane takes a black hair bobble off of her wrist and begins to tie her hair back
               OLENNA    Jane, look. This is your first fight and I'm proud of you for wanting to go through with it, but if your parents find out about this fight which they most likely will then we both know that it will be the end of this. And I don't want your heart to be broken after that so I think it would be best if we just stopped this now to save us both from that pain.
Jane looks Olenna in the eye not with hate or disgust but in a way that gives off comfort. Jane then puts her head down and looks at her shoes for a few seconds before turning to look back at Olenna.
               JANE    Olenna I'll be heartbroken if I don't go through with this fight not If my parents stop me from going because at least then I'll know that I fought for something
               OLENNA    What do you mean?
Jane stands up from the bench and faces Olenna as she puts her red Adidas boxing gloves on.
               JANE    I mean that because of my background and lifestyle everything has always been handed to me on a silver plate based on my Parents fortune and the people they have connections with. I've never had to fight for anything now this is my chance to.    This is all I've ever wanted to do can't you see that with all of the effort I've put into this fight, I haven't been going for a run every day at 5 in the morning for the past two months just because Rob told me to I've been doing it because I want to.    I don't miss the debate club after school and take the underground into Brixton to rebel against my parents interest I do it because it makes me Happy and I know that I have a future with this that doesn't involve running for Parliament or sitting in a courtroom all day.    Now there's a crowd of people out there who have paid good money to see a fight tonight and I don't plan on disappointing them. So are you going to help me fasten these gloves or are you going to leave?
Jane and Olenna stare at each other for a little longer. Olenna smiles at Jane then begins to fasten her boxing gloves.
the referee knocks on the door again this time letting himself in
               REFEREE    It's time Jane You ready?
               JANE    Yes
Jane twists her head and cracks her neck, loosens her shoulders jogs on the spot then punches both of her fists together as she walks out of the door with Olenna behind her. Jane walks slowly as she breathes in the air of the venue and becomes familiar with her surroundings
The sound of people talking and cheering echoes all around the room which the hall from Janes changing room is leading to. This feels like a calling to Jane so she begins to walk faster through the Hall and starts to jog up and down on the spot, she is now in her zone.
INT. BOXING RING ROOM WITH CROWDS OF PEOPLE- NIGHT TIME
When Jane enters the room everyone starts to cheer louder excited that the fight is about to start, Janes opponent is already in the ring. She takes one look at Jane then immediately turns back to face her trainer as though she hasn't seen anything.
Jane looks away from her and see's her Coach Rob standing in the ring waiting for her, Olenna stands next to the ring then gives Jane a hug.
               OLENNA    You've got this Jane
               JANE    I definitely hope so
They both laugh together, Jane steps into the ring and stands next to Rob
               ROB    That time alone do you good?
               JANE    Yeah I Just needed some time alone with Jane
               ROB    She still not believe you've got it?
               JANE    She didn't but she does now
               ROB    Great, now I want you to listen and I want you to listen good
Jane is looking across the ring towards her opponent, she only realizes how muscular she is now that she's up close.
               ROB    Hey!
This brings Jane's attention back to Rob
   Don't look at her, look at me. concentrate only on me forget about her and everyone else in this room, the only person you should listen to is me and yourself you understand?
               JANE    Yes
               ROB    remember everything I taught you okay, only focus on the person in front of you. Don't look at her feet, Don't look at anything other than her eyes and face otherwise you'll lose focus and get hit.    Now you know just as well as I do that your going to win this fight, but that's only going to happen if you concentrate and remember what you were taught is that clear?
               JANE    Yes
               ROB    This is your night Okay, who's night is it?
               JANE    It's mine
               ROB    Sorry it's who's
               JANE    IT'S MINE!
               ROB    Exactly!
The referee has walked back into the ring with a piece of A4 paper
               REFEREE (SHOUTING)    Lady's and gentlemen the moment you've all been waiting for. Tonight at Brixton boxing club we have two women going 5 rounds with each other to compete for the Forrester cup.
An elderly gentlemen standing next to the ring holds the trophy up and spins around exposing it to the rest of the venue.
   in the right corner we have a local here at the club, with a total of 15 wins and 1 loss weighing a total of 50 pounds. the incredible, the magnificent Hollie Smith
Everyone in the room cheers at the top of their lungs with great enthusiasm. Hollie raises her arms and spins around the room standing in her space
   Then in the left corner, making her debut fight and weighing a total of 45 pounds. A woman of great potential, Jane Goldsmith
Jane prepares to raise her arms but upon noticing that only a few people are cheering for her she declines to do so.
               ROB (WHISPERING)    Don't worry They'll love you by the end of it
Everyone expect Jane, Hollie, Rob, Hollie's trainer and the referee leave the ring as the crowd continues to cheer.
   remember what I told you, this is your night
Rob places Janes gumshield in her mouth, fist bumps her boxing glove then exits the ring and stands by the corner next to Jane
Hollie's trainer leans in to whisper in Hollie's ear
               TRAINER (IN SPANNISH)    noquear a la perra
Hollie's trainer places her gumshield in her mouth, lightly jabs her shoulder then exits the ring and stands in the corner next to Hollie
               REFEREE    Right you two come closer to me
Jane and Hollie are facing each other, staring into each other's eyes without a single blink, Hollie thinks nothing of Jane after all this is her 17th fight. Jane however is staring dangerously at her with a stiff upper lip as she tightens her Jaw. She's ready to go at her
   Just like I said in the dressing room I want a clean fight here tonight. protect yourself at all times, watch out for rabbit punches and what I say you must obey. Good luck, touch gloves.
Jane and Hollie punch each others fists and walk back to their own corners
five seconds pass then the bell goes ding to sound off the first round. Jane moves fast towards Hollie but Hollie takes her time and steadily approaches her
Right away Hollie hits her with a right hook which jane dodges by ducking. Then again with a left Jab which she blocks using by putting her hands up.
Hollie tries the right hook again but Jane blocks her then hits her with a powerful right hook to the side of the face knocking her out and sending her crashing to the floor of the ring.
The crowd cannot believe it they go crazy, louder than they were when cheering for Hollie's announcement. The referee kneels down to Hollie to check on her condition
               REFEREE (SHOUTING)    K.O
The crowd shouts even louder at this as they get up from their seats to cheer for Jane. Rob and Olenna rush into the ring as they grab hold of her and hug her.
               ROB (SHOUTING)    See, I told you they'd love it!
               OLENNA    Absolutely Stupendous Jane well done
Hollie's trainer is having a shouting match with himself, he literally cannot believe what's just happened.
               TRAINER (SHOUTING)    Maldita mujer increible e inutil. Todo ese entrenamiento y pierdes con esta puta elegante
Jane looks at Hollie's trainer and say's
               JANE    No soy una perra definitivamente no soy elegante
Hollie's trainer looks at Jane as though his Cat just started talking. He leaves the venue and mixes into the crowd as he mutters to himself
the referee walks over to Jane holding the Forrester cup in his hand, he hands it over to Jane and grabs hold of her left arm.
               REFEREE (SHOUTING)    Winner by absolute knockout, Jane Goldsmith
The referee raises her hand in the air then Jane raises her right arm in the air to expose the trophy to the audience.
Everyone in the room cheers for her. Jane leaves the ring with Olenna and rob as they head back to the changing room.
As they head towards the changing room we can see two black teenage boys. One is cheering for Jane and the other is on his phone writing in the notepad app and taking notes for a story he is writing.
His friend Bobbie notices this and asks him what He's doing
               BOBBIE    Rah Scotty what you doing man
               SCOTTY    Told you I was only here to take notes for the story, didn't even last that long though I was expecting the full five rounds
               BOBBIE    Yeah that's why It's popping off, the whole thing is unbelievable
               SCOTTY    Ermm, Yeah it was great. Such a triumph
               BOBBIE    You missed everything didn't you?
               SCOTTY    I'm just working on something real big right now it has a ton of potential
               BOBBIE    EE Scotty man we've spoke about this you need to leave your writing at home and learn to live a little. I mean you probably just missed one of the greatest sporting events of your life
               SCOTTY    I never really cared for sport anyway, again I'm only here to take notes for the story I'm writing
               BOBBIE    Well what the Hell is this one for then, it for that one about the Kids living in the 70s trying to stop a monster?
               SCOTTY    No, I finished that one ages ago and shelved it this is a different one with a new story and characters
               BOBBIE    Well what's this one about then?
               SCOTTY    Come on I'll tell you on the way out. That party still on by the way?
Bobbie and Scotty head towards the exit
               BOBBIE    Yeah should be, I'll link Scolsey and ask him once we get outside. Now what's this story about?
Bobbie and Scotty are walking through the hallway of the boxing club, It's covered with promo posters of boxing fights and people littered around talking about the fight.
People made bets Tonight but only on Hollie, the bookmaker is being corned by a large group of people demanding money back because of it. Bobbie and Scotty walk past this.
People that aren't demanding money back are ringing friends and relatives to tell them about the situation. A reporter for the local newspaper can also be seen speaking to someone looking to get a spectators opinion of the fight.
               SCOTTY    It's about a teenage boy who's an aspiring musician living in east midlands where he grew up. His Father died in Afghanistan and his mother is an alcoholic, the only people he can really speak to is his best friend Paul who's a migrant from Ireland Battling cancer and his girlfriend who's addicted to an all manner of drugs.
               BOBBIE    Jesus Scotty don't you think that's a little to much for one character to go through? I mean the whole thing just sounds very depressing
               SCOTTY    Well that's the point It's all to represent that he has no one and the only person he does have that Isn't an Alcoholic or drug addict has a very serious chance of dying. So it all evolves around him trying to figure out whether he should leave town at the end of summer to pursue his dream of global musical stardom or if he should stay in town and help the people around him who're struggling.
               BOBBIE    So what choice does he go with?
               SCOTTY    I don't know yet I haven't thought that far ahead I'm still debating between the two EXT. BUSY BRIXTON MAIN ROAD- NIGHT TIME
Scotty and Bobbie are now outside on a pathway next to a busy main road packed with cars going to and from places, the pathway is almost as busy as the road with people walking backwards and forwards on it. Bobbie and Scotty start to walk to the right of it making their way past the crowded people on the pavement.
               BOBBIE    Well which one do you think will be a better ending
               SCOTTY    Oh I don't know that's why I'm debating between the two because it's a hard decision.
               BOBBIE    Well not really I mean he either gets a good ending or he gets a bad one it's as simple as that
               SCOTTY    It's not, thing is if he stays home to help his people then that's his dream gone, there's no second chance no doing it on the side it's plain and simply done. But if he leaves home and abandons those who're in need of him then in the eyes of the audience and those around him he'll be seen as a dick so you'll start to feel detached. I mean what would you do if you was in his situation?
               BOBBIE    I don't know I don't want to be a musician
               SCOTTY    Neither do I but that's not the point, the point is would you stay and look after your people or would you go and chase your dream?
               BOBBIE    I'd probably go and chase my dream, everyone back home had their chance in life so why should I let them fuck up mine. If I had the chance to get everything I ever wanted then I'd go for it in a heartbeat, Wouldn't you?
               SCOTTY    I'm still trying to figure that out myself, come on let's cross
Bobbie and scotty cross the road and make their way down the stairs leading to a damp alleyway covered with litter and lit by one streetlamp above
Bobbie and Scotty continue to walk down this long alley at first not saying a word to each other until they hear the sound of a homeless man on the floor
               HOMELESS MAN    Oi you lot, I'm trying to sleep here
               BOBBIE    Try harder then
Bobbie and Scotty come out of the alleyway onto Brixton high street which is just as busy as the pavement they were previously on
               SCOTTY    I've been thinking lately
               BOBBIE    Dangerous, what about?
               SCOTTY    Subcultures
               BOBBIE    What the Fuck are subcultures?
Two men walk into the middle of where Scotty and Bobbie are stood. One man is wearing a baggy Green parka and the other is wearing a black leather biker jacket.
               SCOTTY    You Know, like Mods and Rockers and Punks. that sort of thing
               BOBBIE    Like Quadrophenia and sex pistols, that sort of shit?
               SCOTTY    Exactly that sort of shit yes
               BOBBIE    Well what about it?
               SCOTTY    I mean what happened to them, Subcultures are still mildly around but they are nowhere near as cool or as committed as they used to be
               BOBBIE    What do you mean?
               SCOTTY    Well back in the day you were either a Mod, a rocker or a punk. You knew where you stood, people took it so seriously that they used to fight each other simply because they weren't one of them. Nowadays we have nothing like that
In the background the Brixton town clock goes off and echoes across the town, signifying the passing of time
               BOBBIE    Isn't that a good thing though if people aren't fighting each other for being different?
               SCOTTY    You literally just saw a woman beat the shit out of another woman and called it one of the greatest sporting events you've ever seen are you seriously telling me it's a good thing that people aren't fighting each other anymore
               BOBBIE    Yeah but that's different, boxing is a sport and doesn't happen in the street
Two men tumble out of a pub door grabbing on to each other as they continue the fight in the street, Bobbie and Scotty walk past this
               SCOTTY    You sure about that mate?
               BOBBIE    Well those two aren't boxers are they
               SCOTTY    Bold statement
Bobbie begins to become irritated by Scotty's wit
               BOBBIE    For fuck's sake Scotty what point you getting at?
Two police officers run towards the two drunken brawlers outside the pub bumping into both Bobbie and Scotty in the process of doing so
               SCOTTY    My point is I just think life for people our age would be a lot more exciting if they were still around, Don't get me wrong it's a great thing that people are more accepting and understanding of each other nowadays despite whatever the difference may be, but back then at least people were committed to what they were. Now it just feels like something that you slip in and out of, but then again what is there that we can slip in and out of because subcultures are dead
               BOBBIE    So are you saying that you think you were born in the wrong generation?
               SCOTTY    No! I'm saying that subcultures need to be brought back, it would just make things a lot easier?
Bobbie and Scotty begin to cross another road, this one just as busy as the last one with cars beeping and flashing headlights at each other
               BOBBIE    Why'd you think that?
               SCOTTY    It would just be easier to identify someone for who they are based off of the clothes they're wearing and the way they style they're hair, plus the music they listen to would give it away
               BOBBIE    We still have that now though don't we?
               SCOTTY    Yeah sort of, but it's not as major as it used to be because people can wear an all manner of things they don't have to narrow it down to parkas or leather jackets. It's as though everyone has just morphed into one singular type of person who you have to speak to for a bit before you find out if they are a dick or not. You know what I mean?
               BOBBIE    Not sure if I agree with it, but yeah I see what you mean, should I ring Scolsey now or give it a bit?
               SCOTTY    What time is it?
Bobbie takes his phone out of his pocket to check the time
               BOBBIE    Half seven
               SCOTTY    Yeah may as well ring him now then
Bobbie unlocks his phone, opens his contact list to find Scolsey then taps on his name to ring him
   Hey Scolsey how you doing mate, Yeah yeah I'm good that party still happening?, nice one me and Scotty are on our way where is it?, It's at yours, I thought it was at Connor's, ah okay fair enough yeah the fight was great I'll tell you about it when I get there, Nice one I'll see you in about 30 minutes, yep, thanks bye.
Bobbie turns to Scotty
   Apparently the party started about an hour ago, and It's not at Connors anymore it's at his
               SCOTTY    Why's it not at Connors did something happen?
               BOBBIE    I don't know he didn't say, chances are his parents probably came back early and caught him setting up but I don't really care, either way a party is still happening
               SCOTTY    Yeah fair enough where does Scolsey live again?
               BOBBIE    Baxter close on the big estate, the one with all the big houses
               SCOTTY    How is he living there he's skint, I thought he lived in a block on Rowland road?
               BOBBIE    He was, but his mum made him move in with his aunt on Baxter close. something about him learning some respect and to keep him out of trouble
               SCOTTY    Well it doesn't seem to be working does it?
Bobbie laughs at Scotty's sarcasm
               BOBBIE    Clearly not no
Scotty looks at his watch then looks around the street from the pavement he and Bobbie are standing on. Cars keep driving by on the road and people on the pavement are making their way around Scotty and Bobbie just standing there.
               SCOTTY    Baxter close, that's about a 40 minute walk from here isn't it?
               BOBBIE    Yeah It's something like that come on let's start walking
               SCOTTY    No we'll get a taxi I'm tired of walking
               BOBBIE    Good luck with that
Bobbie and Scotty go to stand further on the edge of the pavement, Scotty raises his left arm in the air to signal a taxi
               SCOTTY (SHOUTING)    HEY, TAXI!
Scotty continues to wave his left arm in the air and shout taxi, a total of 3 Taxi's pass by Bobbie and Scotty. They can see Scotty waving his arm however they just carry on as though they haven't seen anything
Eventually Scotty gives up and puts his right arm down.
   None of them are fucking stopping, what the hell's going on?
               BOBBIE    Taxi driver see's two black youths calling for a Taxi, as far as they're concerned all we mean is trouble
               SCOTTY    Nah fuck this!
Scotty walks off of the pavement into the side of the road, he puts his right arm forward in front of himself to stop a taxi.
The taxi driver quickly slams on his breaks and stops in front of Scotty as he beeps his car horn at him
               BOBBIE    Scotty what you doing man!
               SCOTTY    Taking action
Both Scotty and Bobbie walk towards the taxi cab, the driver is furious. He has a thick cockney accent, a bald head and looks around the age of 50-60
He rolls down his car window to shout at Scotty
               TAXI DRIVER (SHOUTING)    ARE YOU FUCKING MAD! WHAT YOU DOING JUMPING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD, YOU COULD OF GOT FUKIN HIT OR SOMETHIN
               SCOTTY    I was calling for a taxi, and by the look of things it seems to have worked
Bobbie quickly turns his head to look at Scotty unbelievable of what he's just said. He cannot believe the situation he is currently in. He can barely get any words out he just stands there muttering and looking backwards and forwards at the taxi and Scotty
               TAXI DRIVER    Ah Just fuckin get in will ya!
Scotty and Bobbie get into the taxi, Scotty from the left door and Bobbie from the right.
   Right where you wanting!
               SCOTTY    Baxter close please, the big estate
The taxi driver turns his head around to look at both Scotty and Bobbie sitting in the backseats
               TAXI DRIVER    Where the fukin hell's that!
Scotty turns to face Bobbie
               SCOTTY    Where's Baxter close?
Bobbie turns to face Scotty
               BOBBIE    Ermmm, It's in Brixton.
Scotty turns back to face the taxi driver glaring at Bobbie and Scotty
               SCOTTY    Baxter street in Brixton please
               TAXI DRIVER    Yeah alright!
The taxi driver turns away, faces forward and begins to drive to Baxter street.
EXT. SCOLSEY'S AUNTS HOUSE ON BAXTER STREET- NIGHT TIME
The taxi driver parks outside of Scolsey's aunts house where loud music can be heard coming out from it alongside disco lights illuminating from both sides of the windows making their way to the reflection of the taxi cab.
Despite what's going on inside of the house, from the outside of it everything looks rather peaceful, the taxi driver turns his head back to face Bobbie and Scotty who are sitting in the back gazing at the house and it's contents from the window
               TAXI DRIVER    Forty quid!
Bobbie and Scotty stop staring at the house and quickly turn their heads to face each other, after a split second they then turn to face the taxi driver
               BOBBIE    what?
               TAXI DRIVER    You heard me fine, it's the fare for the journey!
               BOBBIE    No your right I heard you just fine but forty quid?, the journey was barely 15 minutes that's a rip off mate
               TAXI DRIVER    It's the going rate for the journey in this area, now pay up now or I'm either gonna call the police or take you back to where I got you from!
               SCOTTY (WHISPERING)    I thought it was only going to be around fifteen quid?
               BOBBIE (WHISPERING)    So did I but he's not having any of it, how much you got on you?
Scotty takes his wallet out of his pocket and checks to see how much money he has
               SCOTTY (WHISPERING)    fifteen quid, you?
Bobbie puts his left hand in his left jacket pocket to see how much money he has
               BOBBIE (WHISPERING)    Fifteen quid as well, fuck!
               SCOTTY    Hey listen mate we've only got about 30 quid between the two of us
               TAXI DRIVER    Cheers guys, thanks a lot!
The Taxi driver restarts his engine and puts his hand on his gear stick ready to change gear
               BOBBIE    No wait hold on, I'll just go in and get another tenner!
The taxi driver takes his hand off of the gear stick then turns off the car engine
               TAXI DRIVER    Fine, but your mate stays here. get out and hurry up!
               SCOTTY    Alright?
               BOBBIE    I'll only be a few seconds hold on, wait here Scotty
Bobbie gets out of the taxi and runs into the house to borrow a tenner off of Scolsey, Scotty watches him from the window of the taxi cab
Scotty turns to face towards the taxi driver's reflection in the rear view mirror
               SCOTTY    You been busy tonight?
The taxi driver looks at Scotty from his rear-view mirror but does not respond to his question. Instead there's nothing in the Taxi cab but dead silence and the echoes from the party happening in the house next to them.
For a total of 30 seconds there's nothing but silence until Bobbie comes back to the taxi cab with a Ten pound note in his right hand. He then Taps on the car window next to the taxi driver. The taxi driver rolls his window down quickly
               BOBBIE    Here you are mate sorry about that
               TAXI DRIVER    Just get out!
Scotty opens the car door next to him and quickly exits the vehicle. As he's doing this the taxi driver snatches the ten pound note off of Bobbie then immediately proceeds to start the car engine and drive away
               SCOTTY    He was charming
               BOBBIE    Why was he such a prick to us, is it because we're teenagers or because we're black.
               SCOTTY    Probably both, he did seem a bit EDL to be honest. Come on though don't let it ruin your night he's gone let's just get into the party
               BOBBIE    Yeah alright, you seriously okay with that?
               SCOTTY    It's just another Friday night for me mate, come on.
Scotty and Bobbie make their way to the house, they Don't bother to knock as Bobbie has just been in to get the ten pound note from Scolsey
INT. SCOLSEY'S HOUSE PARTY. NIGHT TIME
Scotty and Bobbie come in from outside, close the door then gaze at their surroundings from the door whilst they take their jackets off. Drill music is coming from large speakers at full volume, everyone speaking has to shout at the opposite person so they can hear them. Once they take them off they quickly look around the hallway from where they are standing and see an all manner of people doing an all manner of different things.
Scotty looks to the left side of the room where he's standing and see's a game room with a large luxurious pool table sat in the middle of it, around it on both sides is a large group of drunk black and white teenagers. None of them are playing pool they are instead using the pool table to play beer pong. One couple are leaning on the left side of it kissing each other.
Next to the doorway of this game room is two teenage boys drinking cans of fosters lager and talking about how a girl might like one of them. A large group of teenagers next to them are drinking from red plastic cups and talking about why they think Daniel Radcliffe would make the perfect prime minister
               SCOTTY    Bit loud isn't it?
On the right of Scotty is the stair case with two teenagers laid on the bottom steps of it drunkenly talking about a funny story involving a caravan trip the two of them were on back in January. Standing near the stair banister next to them is two girls talking about how much one of them misses their girlfriend who left them a couple of weeks ago.
Sat on the floor to the right of those two girls is two drunk teenagers sharing a tube of pringles and talking about why they think BREXIT will ruin the country. standing on the right of these two people is a group of teenagers talking about how good of a night it's been so far
               BOBBIE    Might be to loud
               SCOTTY    It's definitely to load.
As Scotty say's this Bobbie notices a white girl wearing a black dress talking to a crying girl next to the stairs
               BOBBIE    Hey Scotty, you see that girl over there?
Bobbie points his finger
               SCOTTY    Yeah?
               BOBBIE    That's the girl I've been speaking to, her names Hannah. I'm gonna go over and speak to her, I'll see you in a bit
               SCOTTY    What? Bobbie we've only just got here can you not wait a bit?, what the fuck am I supposed to?
               BOBBIE    I don't give a fuck, there'll be someone here you know just go and talk to people you'll be alright
Bobbie leaves Scotty standing at the door and walks towards Hannah
   Hey Hannah how you doing, you alright?
Hannah looks at Bobbie and rolls her eyes. Scotty has another look around the room and realises that he doesn't recognise a single person in this hallway so he makes his way into the kitchen.
The kitchen is even louder as it's where the speakers have been placed right next to the bowls of food on the breakfast bar. Large groups of teenagers are dancing and singing along to the music coming out of the speakers, everyone is drunk and having a good time. In the left corner of the kitchen is a couch covered in brown blankets with four white teenagers on it.
on the right side of the couch is a white couple cuddling up to each other and having a conversation about their upcoming one year anniversary. On the left side of it is a white teenage boy with slick back hair wearing a pretty green jumper with his arm around a teenage girl talking about a funny story involving him and his friends. Surprisingly the girl is interested.
Scotty takes a look around the room and realises that he doesn't know anyone in the kitchen either.
               SCOTTY    Fuck
Scotty walks up to the breakfast bar where everyone has placed their drinks, he picks up a bottle of Jack Danial's honey whisky. He then looks around the room to see if anyone is looking at him, no one is they are all immersed in each others conversations.
Scotty then picks up a plastic red cup puts a handful of ice in it then pours a large whiskey into the cup and exits the kitchen. The same groups of people he saw when he walked into the house are still there where he last saw them, especially Bobbie who is still making an effort to speak to Hannah who doesn't seen at all interested in what he's talking about.
Seeing no reason to stay in the hallway and hover over Bobbie's shoulder he makes his way to the staircase where the two teenagers he previously saw are still laying on the bottom stairs laughing hysterically
               LAUGHING TEENAGER #1    And then he wacked him around the arm with a slider!
Both teenagers laugh even harder, Scotty walks up to them in hopes of getting up the stairs to find someone he recognises
               SCOTTY    Hey can I get past please?
               LAUGHING TEENAGER#2    Yeah go on mate
Both of the laughing teenagers move out of the way to let Scotty get past them. Scotty walks up the stairs. When he get's to the top a white teenager wearing a blue parka comes out of the bathroom where he's greeted by another white teenager with a shaved head wearing a red ben Sherman shirt. they introduce themselves to one another
               ADAM    You alright mate I'm Adam
               ROBERT    I'm Robert
               ADAM    You coming spiffing Robert?
               ROBERT    Yeah go on then
Robert and Adam walk away down the stairs with one another, Scotty stands confused at what he's just witnessed, Scotty then takes a look around upstairs to see if he recognises anyone. He can hear groups of people in various rooms however the doors are closed and he doesn't want to open them out of fear of embarrassing himself.
Feeling defeated Scotty is close to heading home until he notices two doors in front of him leading to a balcony with a garden table and chairs that looks out over the garden. Sensing peace Scotty walks towards it with the intention of finishing his drink, doing a little bit of writing on his phone then heading home.
When Scotty walks out onto the Balcony he notices a woman with long black hair and olive skin, she's wearing a red and white striped crop top with a pair of light blue denim levis jeans and a pair of white Gucci trainers. Scotty turns around to walk away but she notices him first.
               JANE    Hey, you okay?
Scotty has panic's a little bit where he's standing, he then puts his right arm in the air with his thumb up to point it backwards
               SCOTTY    Yeah fine, Sorry I'll leave you I didn't know you were out here.
Jane laughs
               JANE    It's okay, come and sit down I was starting to get bored sat here on my own
               SCOTTY    Your sure?
Jane Laughs again
               JANE    Yes come on!
               SCOTTY    Yeah alright, sorry
Scotty goes to sit down next to Jane and places his cup onto the garden table in-between them
   I'm Scotty by the way
               JANE    Is that your real name?
Both jane and Scotty are now looking directly at each other, loud music can still be heard coming from downstairs however it's not as loud as it was when Scotty first walked into the house. Teenagers are scattered across the garden in front of them, one group in the corner are sat in a circle smoking weed and discussing conspiracy theories.
two teenagers standing next to them are talking about university, and three teenagers standing next to them are books. all three of them are smartly dressed reminding Scotty of the mix of classes in attendance of this party.
behind these three teenagers are a group of eight teenagers sat on a bench talking and laughing with one another. the rest of the garden is scattered with random groups of teenagers who come across as normal to Scotty as they are just stood their talking about ordinary things in ordinary clothes. All of them are to far from Scotty for him to hear what they are talking about.
               SCOTTY    No, It's just a nickname my mate Bobbie gave me
               JANE    Why does he call you Scotty?
               SCOTTY    Maybe I'm Scottish
               JANE    What would you prefer me to call you by?
               SCOTTY    You can call me what you like
Jane laughs. then Scotty laughs at her laughing
               JANE    Okay, then can I call you by Rommel?
               SCOTTY    Yeah go for it
Jane takes a sip of her drink, so does Scotty to try and make himself seem normal
               JANE    Who you here with Rommel?
               ROMMEL    I was with my friend Bobbie but he abandoned me the second we set foot in the house to go and speak to a girl he's been speaking to
Rommel raises his eye brows up then down and takes another sip of his whiskey
               JANE    Sounds like a great friend
               ROMMEL    He has his moments, what about you who you here with?
Jane points her left hand towards Olenna who's standing in the garden drinking and talking to two teenage boys
               JANE    My best friend Olenna, we came here together but I left her after 20 minutes of being here because I needed to get some air
               ROMMEL    How come is everything okay?
Jane looks back at Rommel
               JANE    Not really no, just some issues with my family
Rommel takes a quick sip of his whiskey then places it down on the table next to him, Jane puts her left leg over her right leg
               ROMMEL    What kind of issues?
               JANE    Well I'm a boxer and I know that's what I want to do with my life. The problem is that my parents disapprove of it because they don't think it's a job that's best suited for a woman of my class. And on top of that my best friend doesn't even believe in me, well she does now but that's only because I won my first fight tonight
Jane looks away from Rommel, he can tell that she feels overwhelmed and does his best to comfort her
               ROMMEL    Well congratulations on winning the fight, but why do your parents think that?
               JANE    Well my mother is a Judge and my Father, who has the final say in everything relating to the family is a conservative MP for Hampstead
Rommel looks at Jane in a surprised manner
               ROMMEL    Your Dad's Jackob Goldsmith?
               JANE    He is, My full name is Jane Elizabeth Hartfield-Goldsmith. Does that put you off?
               ROMMEL    Not at all I'm just surprised, I wasn't expecting to run into an MP's daughter tonight. Especially the one of Jackob Goldsmith
               JANE    Well it sound's like I've put you off, do you have something against conservatives because I'm not one! as a matter of fact I disagree with everything He's done I think he's a terrible person!
Rommel giggles a little bit to try and ease the tension of the situation
               ROMMEL    Hey, no you haven't for real It's fine. I'm not very political so it wouldn't have bothered me either way I'm just familiar with him which is why I was surprised. I'm sorry if you were offended
               JANE    No I'm sorry, I suppose I did overreact a little bit-
Rommel cuts in
               ROMMEL    A little bit?
Jane laughs at Rommel and begins to ease up and calm down
               JANE    Sorry it's just, whenever I tell people my name they instantly realise who my Father is then they automatically assume that I'm the same as him. And I'm not like that
               ROMMEL    Well I didn't, as a matter of fact to me it just sounds like your trying to be as different from your Father as possible.
Jane gives a humble smile to Rommel to thank him for his compliment
               JANE    Yes Well I suppose I am, Half the time I just wish he'd take the time to listen to me or even come to one of my fights but he's so stuck up about it that he won't even listen to me say the word "boxing". It's the same with my mother as well she practically worships everything my Father say's so it's a lost cause going to her about it.
               ROMMEL    That's really shitty sorry, how long you been keeping this a secret it ouds like it's really taken a toll on you?
Jane looks down at the ground and sighs
               JANE    About 3 years now, tonight was my first fight.
Rommel looks Jane up and down and notices that there's not a single piece of evidence that she's been boxing
               ROMMEL    There's not a scratch on you did someone break it up?
               JANE    No, I knocked her out in the first round she couldn't even lay a finger on me. Everyone was going crazy and there was a reporter from the paper taking pictures and giving interviews. It's safe to say that my secret is out, and that my boxing career is over.
Someone in the garden bellow the balcony sets off a firework into the sky letting off a loud bang which startles Jane and Rommel. They Jump up in their seats but continue on with the conversation acting as though it never happened
               ROMMEL    I wouldn't be so sure, sometimes all it takes is a demonstration of talent to change an opinion.
               JANE    I've only ever seen that sort of situation work in films, it doesn't transition well into the real world. especially with people like me.
Rommel sits up in his chair, takes the last sip of his whiskey and places it down on the garden table. He Puts his left leg over his right knee and looks at Jane
               ROMMEL    Well take me for example, I was born and raised in Brixton on a council estate ripe with crime and low lives. I never had a father and I barely had a mother because she was always out working. I had to make up my own entertainment which is when I found my passion for writing, It's all I concentrated on in school and in the end I ended up earning a scholarship to study it at university. I start in September.
Jane looks at Rommel in astonishment
   You see the point I'm trying to make is that your background can only determine who you are if you allow it to consume you. I didn't let it happen to me and here I am now, I'd say i won wouldn't you?
Jane nods her head
   Now, the way it sounds you are literally fighting for your background to not take control of you, and it also sounds like your winning. Weather or not your parents approve or not is up to them, I mean god knows mine had nothing to do with my writing career. But I carried on with it because writing is something that I enjoy doing. Which is someone you should do as well, if you enjoy boxing then don't let your parents of all people stop you from doing it
Jane carries on looking at Rommel in astonishment, for the first time in a long time Jane feels good about what she's doing and should no longer keep it a secret
               JANE    That's a good point, maybe I do just need to own up to it and accept what I'm doing. I will say you put that very well though, It's easy to to tell that your a writer.
               ROMMEL    Thanks, I was just trying to make it obvious if I'm being honest
Jane and Rommel laugh together in Sync then look forward ahead of the garden bellow them watching the fireworks explode in the air. Both of them are enjoying each others company and have no further intention to leave the balcony, without looking at each other Jane and Rommel take their hands off of the arms of their chairs and hold hands as they watch the fire works.
               JANE    You want to get away from here?
               ROMMEL    Yeah, where do you have in mind? INT. BOXING RING ROOM WITH CROWDS OF PEOPLE- NIGHT TIME
Hollie tries the right hook again but Jane blocks her then hits her with a powerful right hook to the side of the face knocking her out and sending her crashing to the floor of the ring.
The crowd cannot believe it they go crazy, louder than they were when cheering for Hollie's announcement. The referee kneels down to Hollie to check on her condition.
On the left side of the ring where Hollie feel to the ground knocked out is two black teenagers, one is looking at the ring shouting alongside the rest of the crowd with astonishment. The other is looking into the grin with wonder and a smile on his face, the first teenager looks at Him in a confused manner.
               ROBBIE    Hey Nate what you grinning at mate your meant to be cheering?
               NATE    It's not about the fight, I think I've got another idea for a film! THE END
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clubofinfo · 5 years
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Expert: Paris, France, April 2017: Macron Unveils Assault on Workers’ Rights. Paris, France, December 2018: A potential worldwide insurgency of the working class starts in France as Yellow Vests occupy the streets. Some 75% of the French back the gilets jaunes. And this support has held up despite the violence.1 The French Yellow Vests Insurgency may or may not grow into a major threat to the established order; nobody knows for sure how it will play out. Nevertheless, the undertone has been obvious for some years. Once the world publicly recognized a division between the 1% and everybody else, the stage was set for flare-ups, like the Yellow Vest Insurgency movement, as tens of thousands of people dressed in bright yellow vests hit the streets. Why would tens of thousands of people wearing bright yellow vests, similar to roadside workers, hit the streets? Answer: They’re pissed off! And, where do tens of thousands of the yellow vests come from? In 2008 France passed a law requiring all motorists to have high-visibility vests in vehicles as a safety measure should the driver need to exit a vehicle on a roadside. Therefore, everybody with a vehicle in France has a yellow vest. It goes without saying that, over the past three decades, neoliberal globalization set the table for dissolution of the middle class as wages around the world collapsed into a SE Asian vortex of slave labor. This is the heart of the matter behind the Yellow Vest movement, albeit sparked by the Macron government’s new fuel taxes. This is also the biggest reason why a worldwide revolution of the working classes may actually happen, inclusive of pretty much everybody below the top 1% plus the upper-upper-middle-class. So far, repercussions have been potent on a worldwide basis. For example, retail stores in Cairo have been ordered by the police not to sell yellow vests. Egypt’s abusive dictator General Abdel Fattah al Sisi is looking over his shoulder at France where Yellow Vests have established a foothold that’s spreading like a house afire. Without doubt, governments are panicked over the prospect of radicalization of the international working class. In France, working class demands include social equality, wage increases, a halt of militarism, reinstituting the wealth tax, and the overthrow of unpopular governments, making Macron look an awful lot like a modern-day clone of Louis XVI (beheaded in 1793). Recently, Macron made some concessions to demands of the Yellow Vests. They’re not impressed! This time, however, is different. The gilets jaunes emerged from nowhere via social media. They are not the product of organized unions or political parties. Their structureless and leaderless nature makes them potent, volatile, and difficult for the police and government to handle. They do not follow the codified rules of protest. Their diverse demands range from an end to the eco-tax to the resignation of Mr. Macron – and even his replacement with a military general. And the government cannot find leaders willing to attend meetings.2 All of which describes the future of revolutionary activity throughout the world. It is seamlessly simple and frighteningly powerful. In Algeria, protestors donned yellow vests in response to a failing system, as family after family cannot afford the basics of life. In Tunisia, a new group called “Red Vests” issued a call for protests of a Tunisian political system that promotes “systematic impoverishment.” In Belgium, police violently cracked down on angry groups of Yellow Vests with similar demands. In Basra, Iraq Yellow Vests criticize widespread contamination of drinking water and poor city services and corruption under a NATO-backed neocolonial regime. Meanwhile, 243 miles away in Baghdad Yellow Vests hit the streets in sympathy. “Yellow Vest” has become a catchall for all of the grievances of working people. Indeed, this is how revolts commence in earnest. And, it is indicative of a world order that is edgy, angry, and ready for conflict with the first spark of ignition. The precursor for the present insurrection was identification of an elite class, or the 1%. Throughout history, revolutions aspire to confrontation once lines of division have been clearly drawn; e.g., the Boston Tea Party, or the fall of the Bastille, or today’s “One Percent,” which clearly divides the world into “haves” and “have-nots.” Certainly, the One Percent is one of the clearest, easiest targets of all time. Not only a clear division, but years of pent up anger magnifies when people know they’ve been screwed. Under Macron, for example, French subsidies for part-time jobs were slashed, housing aid for low-income people cut, and pension checks axed, as he repealed France’s wealth tax, meaning more goodies for the rich at the expense of everybody else. It doesn’t take an accountant to figure out that the working class ends up subsidizing the wealth tax cut. Furthermore, once people voice dissent in the streets, like the fuel tax revolt in France, magnification of many other issues come into sharp focus. For example, in France students have walked out of 200 schools to protest reforms to high-stakes baccalaureate exams and new higher-education admission procedures. And, university students are now protesting recent hikes in tuition. Four words, “Yellow Vests and One-Percent,” have converged in a firestorm of resentfulness of every inequity propagated by the utter failure of elite capitalistic globalism punctuated by its neoliberal tendencies. It’s as if the world has lost its way, directionless meandering that honors wealth creation but nothing else. Similar to the Arab Spring of 2010, minor events reverberate into major events, which may or may not explode into a massive revolution in protest of a capitalistic system that shamefully rewards the rich by preying on workers of the world. But, social media fights back. The discontent is all about austerity efforts; for example, Philip Alston, the UN Special Rapporteur on extreme poverty and human rights described the austerity policies in the UK as “punitive, mean spirited and callous… heading towards an alienated society made of dramatically disconnected groups, those living the high life and the very poor, relying on food banks even if in work.”3 Philip Alston’s study of austerity policies and consequences equally applies to major developed countries throughout the world, as “austerity” has been the order of the day in Turkey, Italy, Greece, France, Portugal, Spain, Ireland in large measure to satisfy the EU and IMF that their loans will be repaid. Oh, please! Still, revolutions take a long time to play out: The American Revolution, 1775-1783; the French Revolution, 1789-1799; the Chinese Communist Revolution, 1945-1950; the Cuban Revolution, 1953-1959; the Spring of Nations Revolutions of 1848-1852 against monarchies in Germany, France, Italy, and Austria. Revolutions start with a loss of decency. Today, the world is full of indecencies for the “working poor.” The Yellow Vest insurgency is only possible because of a failure of global capitalism to uplift the working class. Instead, it puts a boot on their necks. * “La République en Flammes”, The Economist, December 8-14, 2018. * Ibid. * “UN Special Rapporteur Makes damning Criticism of Austerity”, National Survivor User Network, November 2018. http://clubof.info/
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