#all my animals live 15+ aside from one cat when I was a child who was poisoned by a neighbor

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

Ok people acting like feeding anything that isn’t owned by Purina or hills will kill your pets are being a BIT dramatic here. I have never used either and all of my animals are miraculously alive and fully healthy.

#I have one cat on prescription Royal canin and the rest on 4health #dogs get Rachael ray dry and Merrick canned #All of which was endorsed by my vet ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #so was Taste of the Wild my dogs just don’t like it much #I’ve fed both grain and grain free in the past and noticed no real difference other than some animals preferred one over the other. #all my animals live 15+ aside from one cat when I was a child who was poisoned by a neighbor #another unfriendly reminder to keep cats indoors #Is all of this anecdotal? Yep! #but so are a lot of these claims for what food is the best #there is no one right answer it depends on the needs of your specific animal #but Buddy you almost certainly don’t need to be paying for overpriced food if your pet doesn’t have a specific medical issue

[aurora-daily]

Though angelic pop anomaly Aurora hails from Norway, it can feel like she was beamed here from another planet, an alternate universe, or at the very least, another time. A superstar with an otherworldly aesthetic, a special bond with nature and millions of followers on Instagram, Aurora is so enigmatic, decoding her is an almost impossible task. Still, we cannot help but try

Aurora is sitting in her bedroom, drinking a dark liquid from an elaborate chalice. “This is cola, by the way, not wine,” she clarifies, giggling. The Norwegian artist’s signature viking-meets-anime haircut frames her angelic face, which fills my screen. Behind her, beaded vintage purses and a dramatic silver gown cascade from the wall. Also in frame: a cabinet full of teas and spices and a picture of what appears to be Mary and baby Jesus.

Aurora is six minutes late, which she is profoundly apologetic for. She had been on top of a mountain in the rain and had to blow-dry her trademark cut before meeting with me. “It’s such lovely weather today. Really small raindrops from the sky,” she says. It’s fortuitous that she likes the rain; Aurora, born Aurora Aksnes, lives in Bergen, the rainiest place on Earth. It also happens to be the birthplace of the majority of Norway’s musical talent – DJ-producers Kygo and Alan Walker, electronic duo Röyksopp, even groundbreaking composer Edvard Grieg all hail from the city.

But Aurora’s story begins on the west coast of Norway, in a village next to the Lysefjord, also known as the Fjord of Light. “A lot of nature, a lot of forest, and little people,” she says. “So I grew up quite sheltered.” A self-described introvert, Aurora spent more time as a child within her own imagination than she ever did in school. She did, however, find a great companion in nature, spending hours walking in the forests close to her home. “Nature, she belongs to all of us. And she offers so much tranquillity and peace and silence,” she says, noting that these days we tend to get “very affected by so many worthless things”. “Nature offers some peace. It doesn’t matter who you are when you’re in the forest.”

After coming across her older sister Miranda’s piano in the attic at just six years old, Aurora started writing music . As she explains it, it was her calling because she felt that she’d never heard a perfect song. At nine, she started to write lyrics in English, and at sixteen, after a video of her singing went viral online, she quit school, and went on her first tour. At 20, she released her debut album All My Demons Greeting Me As A Friend, launching an international career. The record features the song “Runaway”, which, despite being six years old, has enjoyed a recent resurgence via TikTok. Today it has more than 500 million streams on Spotify.

This year, at 26, Aurora released her latest album, The Gods We Can Touch, to critical acclaim. While one would certainly identify Aurora as a pop star, she is hardly mainstream. Her music reflects her ethereal essence, somehow embodying the fjords and the mountains around which she grew up. Characterised by dreamy harmonies, her sound both transcends space and time and is rooted firmly in the modern internet pop landscape. Perhaps it ’s this dichotomy that allows her music to live both in the world of Disney’s Frozen II and in the popular video game Assassin’s Creed.

Though Aurora doesn’t recall much from her childhood, aside from “the things I was dreaming about and thinking about”, she does fondly remember her cat, Septimus. It’s the same name she’s given all of her pets – to her mind they’re all the same creature, reincarnated again and again. “To deal with pets dying, it was good for me. I was a sensitive little bean,” she says.

I reveal that I have a pet dog named Doggy, who is nearly 15 years old. As soon as I mention him, Aurora starts to cry, tapping into my impending heartbreak. These days she doesn’t have a pet herself – the lifestyle of an internationally touring pop star doesn’t suit animal companionship. She has, however, made a connection with a crow in the park next to her home. Aurora brings him shiny things, and he brings her gifts sometimes, too.

In addition to Septimus, Aurora also found companionship in her two older sisters, Viktoria and Miranda. She says they are among the few people who understand her, granting her the space and freedom to be herself. “I was very disconnected from people as a child,” she says. “I learned to love most people in my life when I grew up and understood what the essence of family is, and love, and coexisting. Because I was really overwhelmed by just learning to exist in myself as a human.”

Today, Aurora and her sisters are not only best friends, but close collaborators; Viktoria is a stylist and costume designer and Miranda is a hair and makeup artist. The sibling trio collaborated on our editorial. Later, I ask Viktoria over text message what it’s like to work with her superstar sister. “She knows when to leave it to me, and I know when to shut up and do what she wants even though it kills my pride or ego,” she says, adding that Aurora is a “very relaxed boss”. Even over text message, the sisterly bond is apparent – Viktoria signs off with a plant leaf emoji.

“I hate the fashion industry,” Aurora boldly declares when we start to discuss her eight-year long collaboration with Viktoria. “Fashion is important to me – it’s art, and it’s beautiful – but I hate the sad, hidden part of it. It’s so un-transparent and secretive.” Rather than wear items with a nebulous history, she prefers to ask Viktoria to make her clothes. Sometimes she explains her vision, sometimes they draw up designs together. “It’s very loose and free,” she says.

A conversation with Aurora can spontaneously divert to musings on space and time, philosophy, and the human condition. It strikes me that she could have become anything she wanted, but she says she quickly settled single-mindedly on music. “I understood the importance of music quite early, and I connected it in my mind with nature,” she says. “Music is a way to pool what nature is for our souls into something we can hold in our hands, and kind of shape it into something more comprehensible.” Aurora speaks of nature and music as if they are an extension of herself or a language that she speaks fluently. As the thoughts tumble out, the cogs in my mind shift as I try to keep up.

The music she was exposed to early – Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Enya – is a sanctuary for Aurora. These artists offer both a means to self-understanding and a portal for escape. “My brain has sometimes been a good thing and sometimes been a bad thing. It depends on what situation,” she says. “Since I became an artist, it’s always been my goal to offer the same kind of escape.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Aurora is not one to focus on the superficial or mundane. “It doesn’t matter if you get likes or if you’re one centimetre skinnier in your arms. Or if you have a pimple on your forehead. We know it doesn’t matter, but we still let it affect us so much,” she says (for the record, Aurora gets many likes – she has 2.3 million Instagram followers). Instead, she spends her free time studying big ideas: our perception of time, reincarnation and the meaning of life.

Aurora has a charming habit of pointing out concepts she doesn’t understand, as if she’s an alien observing human behaviour. Take, for instance, the way in which we tend to view our lives in a linear series of events - engagement, marriage, children. She chuckles and says that she doesn’t grasp any of it. “I always think of life as me being here, and then life just happens around me all the time and you’re in the middle of the now, which you always own. The now is always yours,” she says, gesturing her hands around her in a circular motion.

“Life is just all a round us, all the time. And we capture the right things sometimes, the right people and the right moments and opportunities.” She pauses to stare out her window towards the mountains, cloudy skies, and miniature raindrops she loves so much, adding, “Earth is my favourite place I’ve been in my life.”

[VOGUE SCANDINAVIA]

#submission #thank you so much for such a great submission wow #aurora #aurora aksnes #interviews

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

could do better..

I was an indifferent student. All the way through primary & high school, my typical report card was “talks too much” or “could do better” which frustrated Mum & Dad, who’d both been stellar students. I countered with “if I’ve never done better, how do these teachers know that this isn’t ALREADY my better?!” Teen sass aside, at 15 I knew was already on the runway to adulthood and would need to get a career airborne within a few years. There was only one thing I was halfway good at.. and started to wonder if I actually could DRAW for a living. 

Year 9 Parent/Teacher Night program.

Ever since I was small, I’d had adults leaning down to my child’s-eye-level asking; “what do you want to be when you grow up?” When I answered “I wanna be an animator” at age 8 it was oh-so cute, but it seemed screwy at 15, when nobody thought that job even existed in Australia. Unlike the USA, countries with small populations don’t have all industries (which is why Fiji doesn’t have astronauts). So, in my mid teens I started to think seriously about what job I possibly could do.. My best-guess career by the time I was 15 was a signwriter/illustrator. 

My earliest illustrations printed anywhere were done for school. From year 7 onwards, I eagerly drew art for pamphlets, program guides for school plays, banners for athletics & swimming carnivals, and cartoons for the school magazine. I also submitted art to fan mags, and even got a few cartoons into the local newspaper too. It is nutty how much pleasure it gave me simply to see something I’d drawn printed in a ‘proper’ publication. 

Window decorations for a pub.

So people had already been using my drawings for years, but for FREE. Getting paid to draw was the tricky part. Perhaps the first time I got money for my drawings was at 15, when my friend Stephen’s uncle paid me to design t-shirt graphics for him. He had a screen printing business & t-shirt shop, and I did logos and illustrations for local sports teams and so on.. Around that same time, I was paid to paint Christmas window displays at a pub where I worked after school (as a cleaner). Those early PAID illustration opportunities gave me hope that it might be viable career one day.

Sign-writing was a job I seriously considered. Freehanded calligraphic hand-painted signs were much more common in those days. Even today, pubs & cafes often have beautifully illustrated & hand drawn menus in chalk on huge blackboards, and I've always admired them. In year 10, as part of the work experience program, I spent two weeks as general dog’s-body for the graphic designer at the local university, preparing myself to be a sign-writer/illustrator. He was a one-man department doing graphics & illustration for the university’s printed publications, campus signage, and theatre department. Which sounds cool, but for two weeks I did all the stuff he didn’t want to do. Fiddly paste-up bollox (& calligraphy practice). Not much fun at all..

Decorations for student Common Room.

Our high school had a lounge for year 11 & 12 students known as “The Common Room” and I got to decorate its walls with cartoons. I can’t exactly remember whether this was someone else’s idea who approached me, or a case of me badgering the powers that be, but either way, the the school principal had to approve the project. Which he did.

I’ve written about cranky teachers at Catholic school but this brother was definitely one of the good ones. He was not of the fire & brimstone old guard, but of the groovy younger set of nuns & brothers (the cool cats with folk guitar). He was a warm & wonderful man with a great sense of humour, and tolerated much shenanigans from me & my mates. Even when he (justifiably) scolded us for being boneheads, there was always a twinkle in his eye.

Decorations for student Common Room.

Anyway, he let me draw what ever silly nonsense I wanted on the Common Room walls, with no editorialising whatsoever. Which is pretty amazing now that I come to think of it. When that brother moved on, to be principal at another school, the next principal painted over everything I’d drawn. I was out of school by that time so no harm done, but I’m sorry now not to have more photos.

My pal Peter had a community radio show (called “Sunday Soft Rock”) and I often sat in when he was on air, as the FM-station was mere blocks from the Baker Family home. Through this contact, I did a few illustrations for the station’s program guide, and promotional posters for the station (and another in Newcastle). I definitely enjoyed illustrating, and hoped I would get more of that to do, rather than simple calligraphic sign writing.

Posters for community radio stations.

During the break between years 10 & 11 Dad saw an ad in the newspaper for an "animation workshop" being held at the university, which is how I learned that there actually was an animation studio in Sydney. This was an electrifying discovery! Getting into animation became my focus in the last two years of high school (perhaps to the detriment of my already shoddy grades). I sent my drawings to the studio multiple times, until they finally called me down to Sydney for an interview, where I was offered a job.

However, even after I’d entered the animation biz, illustration continued to be a sideline for many years, in Sydney and even when I worked in Asia. Not just to supplement my often sporadic animation work, but also because I genuinely enjoyed doing it.

From www.James-Baker.com

#illustration #cartoons #drawing

[heartinblue]

chapter i, introduction

shed light upon absolute self-confidence bound to pull, whispers all amongst society who stumbled upon this page; manifold ways to address me, as it is fully written misora khyrei saika, either within misora, sora, miso, or as anything sweet suits your preference to be comfortable with. one of the air sign zodiacs has charmed me, try to guess that. as recent mbti attests to my being infj, a designation that speaks volumes about the inner workings of my mind. for well, i'm not a minor anymore, composed me in a nonchalant persona, an easygoing demeanor that belies a depth of complexity beneath its surface. yet, despite this facade of casual indifference, there burns within me an ember of eagerness, a fervent desire to engage and converse with all who cross my path. for in the art of interaction lies a boundless joy, a symphony of words and ideas that sings to the very core of my being. cast aside the shackles of inhibition and embrace the boundless expanse of conversation. whether through whispered secrets exchanged in the dead of night or lively banter shared beneath the noonday sun, i propose we revel in the beauty of connection and the endless possibilities it presents.

chapter ii, things i like

as i stroll through my halls of favored things, k-pop makes its front-liner, which after surveying all that was good and all that was strifet bought me in eagerness mostly towards enhypen, ive, newjeans, boynextdoor, aespa, rize, stayc, illit, babymonster, kiof, etc : ] as they lend me peace between dark days loom. when it comes to silence, i’d summon up another preference song, which is worth massive o’ sailent recital which catches ears easily to tune in daily, as i frequently listen to taylor swift, bruno mars, niki, my chemical romance, voilá, the weeknd, chase atlantic, benson boone, henry moodie, tate mcrae, new hope club, wave to earth, beabadoobee, laufey, keshi, olivia rodrigo, lewis capaldi, anson seabra, reality club, mahalini, so7, tulus, awdella, juicy luicy, etc (gosh.. that's a lot). in the meantime, i am fond of spending all day on any genre of movie and series, but the gore one is an exception. i savoring each sip of coffee, iced tea and spicy food, and relishing time spent on drawing, writing, cooking, editing, collecting ugly memes, playing games on plato, and most recently, i eagerly preparing to vend pizzas at good pizza, great pizza :3 but amongst all, being a cat lover is what i tend to love the most, i'm a pawrent who has one orange cat as my furry child!

chapter iii, before you follow

come take a sip within this note, as i forbid people who try to fit the basic dni criteria including arrogant people, being minors under the age of 15, enforcing strict grammar rules, homophobic, and zionist, should refrain from interacting with me. also, accounts that are inactive or have never been used for interact with me are generally soft-blocked by me with no hard feelings, and we all could do the same to foster a comfortable environment for all.

ⓘ since i have some things that can trigger me and make me anxious or uncomfortable, please use the CW / TW mark for the following content: gecko, lizard, animal abuse, gore, murder or accident scenes, heavy nsfw, jumpscares, and ghosts.

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! / Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here! / Part 15 Here! / Part 16 Here! / Part 17 Here! / Part 18 Here! < This is Part 19!>

Donate to Move to Higher Ground HERE!

Song Here- (X)

Big thanks to @imdoingathingmom​ and @bbibbisan​ for doing a sensitivity read! 

* This could be worse, you remind yourself as you feed your deer

* Much, much worse

* “How much am I supposed to give them?” The tall, ebony colored man says from beside you, his bright red eyes seem to glow under the pale moonlight

* “Um.. for that one, you can feed it as much kale as you want, but be careful James, he’s kinda insatiable. He’ll eat your clothes if you give him the chance”

* James nods, tearing the kale in careful ribbons.

* He smiles when the deer eats right out of his palm.

* You’re not going to lie, you were 100% surprised when the blond turned out to be Laurent and the black guy was James

* You were even more surprised when he asked if he could help you feed your animals

* You watch him smile as he gives the deer a gentle pat, feeding it more kale

* Yeah, you’re having a hard time believing the teddy bear in front of you is some psychopath tracker

* The story went that while you and Edward were out, the coven decided to play some baseball up in the mountains, and the sound caught their attention as they were passing through

* Apparently this was a fast friends situation, because Carlisle and Laurent have been reminiscing about their geezer pre-colonialism days

* You look to the house, you can see Edward’s inside from the window, his eyes meet yours and he gives you a small smile

* Well that seems hopeful

* “I used to take animals before I turned” James’s deep voice calls you back to the situation at hand

* “Oh were you a farm hand?” You’re peeling an orange, which Henrietta the third is already licking at impatiently

* “Um, not quite, I was a slave”

* You stop peeling the orange

* James tells you his story- he was a third generation slave, fathered from the master, his mother passed away shortly after his birth

* “I was lucky- in a sense, the master -my father- he was a superstitious man, and my mother- she had a reputation”

* His mother was a slave in name only, was what he told you. She was more of a mistress or a concubine.

* “At least that’s what they said, Though I’m not sure how much of that is true, I’m fairly certain she didn’t enjoy being with him. She was just trying to survive”

* His mother had been ostracized, even amongst others like them, but not because of her social position in the household

* “They thought she was a witch,” he admitted. “Bad things happened to people who wronged her, and good things happened to those who helped her”

* That sounds like Alec and Jane

* “When she was on her death bed, she laid a “curse” on the owner of the plantation, that if I wasn’t taken care of she would haunt him and bring misfortune on the entire family for several generations”

* And so, James became the unfavorable third son of the Pickett family.

* “I had many opportunities from her sacrifice, I learned to read and write, but I was more or less shunned from the house- both by my family and by the other slaves”

* It was lonely, almost painful.

* “But there was one thing, a ray of light-“ his eyes flit towards the window, and you follow his gaze to the red haired woman in the green chair

* “Victoria, she was my eldest brothers fiancé”

* The youngest daughter of the wealthiest man in town, from the outside she was a blossoming socialite

* The most beautiful girl in town

* But behind closed doors...

* Victoria was the product of an affair, a mistresses child, reluctantly brought into the household when her mother passed

* “She had big dreams, she loved to read, she yearned to study, to educate herself, to use her mind”

* And so, two lost souls found each other

* “Our family would never have allowed it. So we decided to run away together” he smiles, but it’s bitter.

* They claimed he had abducted her, perhaps to save face, and sent slave catchers to find them.

* “I’m not quite sure what happened-I remember being shot and telling Victoria to go in without me- all I ever wanted was for her to be happy.”

* This is heartbreaking

* “When I woke up, Laurent was there, and my throat burned”

* So Laurent had been with them for all that time, he was their creator

* “Afterwards the three of us worked in ‘the underground railroad’ helping slaves to the north where they could be free”

* “I’m thankful to him, for saving us, we wouldn’t have been able to be in a world where we could be together if it weren’t for him-“

* “But you wonder what the trade off is” you finish and he nods

* No longer human

* Purpose only lasts so long in this life, after all human life only has meaning because you know one day it will end

* “I found a penchant for tracking, it turns out what they said about my mother might have held some truth”

* James calls it “extreme luck”, there’s no other word for his gift.

* If he’s looking for something - or someone- it’ll inevitably find him through pure luck. Like the world bends to his will

* But it only works with finding things

* “These days we work as bounty hunters, and we only feed from people beyond redemption”

* Murder and rapists it sounds like

* “I didn’t know there was another way”

* “That’s understandable, I didn’t know either until I met Carlisle” he looks at you with kind eyes, and so with a deep breath you tell him your story

* About the Volturi, your parents, Alec and Jane-

* “I think you would like them, they’re a little off putting at first, but they warm up pretty fast”

* “Like cats” he says

* “Like cats” you agree

* You tell him about meeting Carlisle, how he saved you,

* how Eleazer gave you a home and a family,

* and about Edward, who gave you a chance to live

* Not just to survive, but to truly live

* “We’re not so different you and I” James says with a smile, and you mirror his expression

* “No we aren’t”

* Though of course you wouldn’t compare the relatively privileged life you had to his

* But the loneliness you both experienced is not all that different

* The tie that binds you all

* And then you do something you’ve never done before

* “You know, I don’t belong to this coven, not really” it’s the first time you’ve admitted it to anyone

* “Oh?”

* “My coven is in Denali, they have a permanent settlement there, and they follow the er... same alternative lifestyle”

* He laughs

* “I’m sure they would love two or three more, we’ve got like thirteen spare rooms in that house”

* You still remember the antiquated scooby Doo mansion-esque hallways filled with armor and swords

* He looks at you for a long time, but it doesn’t make you uncomfortable

* “I won’t follow another leader”

* You nod, that’s understandable.

* Laurent created them, and it seems he’s happy with their current lifestyle, they won’t betray him

* “Not unless it’s you”

* ........

* What?!?!

* “M-me?” You sputter, your orange peel filled hand clutching your chest

* “Why would you want to follow me? I’m only nineteen years old- I don’t even have a high school degree yet!”

* He laughs at your panicked expression

* “You know that doesn’t matter to our kind,” his eyes twinkle as he looks at you.

* “Call it witchcraft if you like, but you’re going to accomplish great things, I can feel it deep in my bones”

* Garrett had said the same thing, but the way James says it-

* You really believe it.

* He doesn’t want anything from you you, not a kiss or a date-

* He just wants to be your friend, to be apart of your vision

* Whatever it may be

* “Here’s my card-“

* He holds out his business card to you, unlike Garett’s it’s a cheap cardboard white with his profession and number on the front

* “If you ever find yourself in need of someone to help with your animals, let me know”

* You nod, taking his card in your hands

* “Um there’s one more thing I could use your help with-“

* He points to the large window, right at Alice

* “I know that girl but she doesn’t seem to know me.”

* “Well how does that work”

* He tells you how many years ago, a woman was looking for her sister.

* “It was a bit of a Cinderella story”

* The woman’s father had remarried quickly after his wife’s death, and the step mother had sent his children away. The younger sibling, his client, was lucky and was sent to a relative.

* But the older, who had suspected something amiss had happened to her mother, was sent to a mental asylum

* “You know me, I find things, it’s my gift.”

* But when he found the girl, she was no longer human. Already turned.

* “I tried to approach her, but she didn’t seem to remember anything”

* “Alice doesn’t have any of her memories from before she turned, she woke up in the woods all alone”

* The only thing guiding her were her visions.

* James nods solemnly

* “Should I...should I tell her?”

* You look to Alice.

* She’s smiling at something Victoria said.

* How many nights has she spent wondering who she really was, feeling so happy she had a family and a partner, but wondering if she left someone behind

* How would she feel when she found out?

* “I think you should tell her.”

* If it was you, even if it hurt, you would want to know

* James nods

* “Okay”

* You walk inside together, and immediately look to Edward

* Your own personal vampire lie detector

* “He did lie about one thing-“ Edward tells you once James pulls Alice aside.

* Was he actually tracking Alice to hunt her?

* Your heart drops at the thought

* “His mother didn’t die from natural causes, she committed suicide because she knew it would secure his future” Edward tells you with a somber expression.

* “He just didn’t want you to feel bad”

* You smile and nod.

* What a strong person, you can’t even imagine

* Edward pulls you into his arms, placing a soft kiss in your hair

* You feel bitter sweet about the whole thing

* Especially as you watch them leave in the morning, right before you’re going to head off to school

* Jasper is holding Alice who seems vulnerable, but relieved

* They’re leaving so soon, you didn’t even get a chance to get to talk to Victoria or Laurent

* You watch James stand next to Victoria, they’re talking to Carlisle.

* They’re not even touching, but you can feel the intimacy radiate off of them

* You wonder if maybe you and Edward might get to be that close one day

* James meets your gaze and smiles

* “I’ll see you around sometime leader!” He calls out, earning confused looks from your coven and his

* You smile back and give him a nod

* You’re still not sure what your future holds

* But you know you wouldn’t have gotten this far if it weren’t for the kindness of others

* You want to make them proud

* And then in a gust of wind, he’s gone

* They all are

* “See, I didn’t commit murder or anything, I told you things were different” Edward says with a teasing smile

* You roll your eyes and lightly shove him while he just laughs

* He’s right though, that was different

* “Enough flirting kids, you’re going to be late for school, and I really don’t want to deal with that dick in the front office acting all high and mighty because they think I can’t control my children” Esme yells

* School?

* Oh sh*t you didn’t do your homework

* “Edward-“

* “I’ll drive and tell you the answers on the way there” he says catching the keys you toss to him

* “It’s the-“

* “The Trig homework, I know. It’s your worst subject”

* Well you do struggle with trig quite a bit

* “Though to be fair you’re pretty terrible at all of them”

* He barks laughing when you shove him before getting into the car through the passenger side

* Carlisle and Esme watch you from the doorstep

* “They’re so good together-“ Esme starts

* “I know, I never thought our Edward would look at anyone like that”

* Carlisle and Esme exchange a look

* Before you came around-

* Well it wasn’t bad, but he certainly didn’t look like that.

* And he never smiled like that either

* Immortality had hardened him, made him into a man

* But with you-

* Well, with you he looks just like a boy

* A boy in love for the first time

* “I wonder what kind of children they might have had” Esme wonders with a small grin

* Him, with his ability to read minds, and you with that positively monstrous power of yours

* Any number of possibilities is possible

* “Best not to think of such things” Carlisle murmurs

* Though you two may be together for eternity, with the endless options, you’ll never have that.

* Esme nods

* “I’m late to get to the hospital, surgery this morning” he mumbles kissing her on the cheek before walking to the car

* She watches him go, his sleek white Volvo disappearing down the road before looking up to the sky

* “What a shame, I would have liked a cute grandchild or two running around” she mumbles to herself before turning to go inside

* “Entertaining always leaves me exhausted, guess I’ll give my employees the day off”

Tags:  @moonlights27​ @thebluetint​ @the100thtwilight​ @awesomebooklover17​ @oneofthepotterheads​ @smileygirl08​ @imdoingathingmom​ @iconicgguk​ @yrawn​ @alyciaswhore​ @little-horror-show​ @wicked-watering-can​ @lazydreamers​ @ xxxmuxxx @ideas-for-you-to-adopt​​​ @poisoinedhope @maryleigh8796​​ @moose-squirrel-asstiel​​ @hotmessgoodness​ @jaimewho​ @corabmarie​ @what-am-i-doing10​ @alluring-venus​ @imdoingathingmom @anotheryooniverse​ @im-tired-not-sleepy​ @emmettcullenisahimbo​ @my-super-musical-life​ @smolvampiregirl​ @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream​ @mihikaahujaaa @werewolflover3252​ @teenagezombiekryptonite @shynz​ @reclusive-chicken-nugget​ @monkeyluver4546 @wonhomarshmallow​ @bwbatta​

#twilight imagine #twilight headcanon #twilight reader insert #twilight fanfiction #twilight saga #twilight #edward cullen imagine #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen headcanon #edward cullen fanfiction #midnight sun #superhero-imagines

[sweet-berry-sims]

My version of the Disney Princess Legacy Challenge with rules

I made my own version of the disney princess challenge for the sims 3(though I don’t stay entirely with disney. I know Disney has not done Princess and the Pea) with 15 generations. If there is no specifics on the number of children, just have as many as you want to play with. If you use my rules please tag me @sweet-berry-sims I can see how it plays out for you.

Generation 1: Pocahontas

Must have loves the outdoors, animal lover and artistic(to paint with the colors of the wind of course) traits

Spouse’s family must have a negative relationship with Pocahontas’ family

Spouse must start of disliked after insulting but romance blossoms

Move away from family home with spouse to start a new life

Have only 1 child

Generation 2: Tarzan

Be orphaned as a toddler but taken in and raised by another large family

Have a negative relationship with adoptive father until YA

Must be family-oriented and loves the outdoors

Be friends with all family members 

Have spouse and parent-in-law move in with family 

Live in family home until death

Generation 3: Moana

The world calls you and you must answer visit all vacation spots before meeting spouse

Spouse must be supernatural (ideally mermaid but fairy or vampire works too)

Must move away from family as far as possible to explore where you haven’t before

Have at least 3 children

Generation 4: Ariel

Parent (Moana) would tell you stories of their travels before they passed

Must be a supernatural

Must have hopeless romantic trait

Other parent becomes very overprotective after parent’s passing

Siblings don’t mind but you want to make your own choices

Sneak out every night as a teen

Fall in love with a wealthy human who is family-oriented and nurturing 

Become human before marrying 

Have only one child

Generation 5: Jasmine

Have a good relationship with both parents until parent(Ariel) passes before Teen

Own a cat as a best friend

Go on numerous blind dates set up by well meaning parent

Sneak out and meet poor spouse

Get engaged to an evil sim before breaking it off

Marry spouse after spouse meets parent

Generation 6: Esmerelda

Never have a job make money by off tips

Make friends with a loner, socially awkward sim

Get flirted with by an evil sim who is disliked 

Become enemies after rejecting the evil sim

Marry a good sim after initially fighting

Generation 7: Tiana

Must be a natural cook who is also a workaholic

Must work as a teen

As YA, work in a diner

Own a restaurant in town after marriage

Spouse must be flirty, a diva, a snob, and family-oriented trait but no skills before meeting Tiana

Marry spouse after relaxing a bit

Have at least 3 children but rarely spend time with them, spouse cares for the children

Generation 8: Belle

Must be a bookworm

Spouse starts out mean with Belle

Spouse must be a werewolf (cursed by a witch, oh no!)

Belle must cure the Beast of being a werewolf before marriage

Must max out relationship with beast before they can become human again

Generation 9: Aurora

Due to being cursed as an infant family is overprotective 

Gain couch potato trait as a child

Meet spouse as a teen and fall in love in secret

Die and be revived by Spouse 

Marry after being revived

Have a single child followed by multiples

Generation 10: Merida/Princess and the pea

Be hot headed and athletic

Have a positive relationship with all family until teen then argue with Aurora until negative relationship

Meet several prospective spouses as a teen, reject all of them

Turn Aurora into a werewolf after the rejections

Cure Aurora of the werewolf curse before YA only after restoring the relationship to at least good friends

Don’t date until at least YA

Marry one of the prospective spouses after dating for at least a week

Spouse’s parents must initially dislike Merida

Merida and spouse can only marry when the spouse’s parents approve

Have only one child and eat only lettuce during pregnancy

Generation 11: Rapunzel

Be taken as an infant/toddler by ‘Parent’

Have no friends aside from pet

Only leave home for school

Be a neat, hopeless romantic sim

Meet spouse as YA while ‘Parent’ is away

Get kicked out from home when pregnant

Marry spouse and reconnect with parents if they’re still around

Have only one child

Generation 12: Cinderella

Rapunzel passed early in Cinderella’s life (when Cinderella was a child at the oldest) have other parent remarry someone with children

Cinderella must have a positive relationship with parent who must pass by their teens

Step parent and step-siblings are cruel to them

Must have be neat, natural cook and love animals

Marry a spouse who dislikes step family

Have only one child

Generation 13: Mulan

Have good relationship with parents

Must be family-oriented, good and socially awkward

Join Military against family’s wishes

Marry coworker after maxing out career

Have one child before dying of natural causes

Generation 14: Snow White

Must be hopeless romantic and neat

Parent must remarry before death

Step parent has the diva trait and ignores Snow White until YA

Snow White must meet spouse as a teen

Relationship with step parent becomes negative as YA

Snow White moves in with 7 sims each with a negative trait and must go on a date with each sim 

Must eat a poison apple given by the Step parent before dating spouse

Step parent must die before Snow White can marry

Must have 2 children one must be a supernatural (ideally a witch but feel free to do whatever) and the other human

Generation 15: Elsa/Anna

Elsa must be a supernatural

Must have a good relationship with family before stopping contact with Anna as a child until Anna is YA

Parents die when Elsa is YA and Anna is a teen

Anna must get engaged to an evil, ambitious sim and Elsa must disapprove

Elsa and Anna must fight at least twice 

Anna must meet a good, equestrian sim who owns a horse and befriend them

Elsa and Anna can only make up after Anna breaks off the engagement with the evil sim

Anna marries the good sim friend after making up with Elsa

Elsa must remain single but can have children of her own if you want

#Disney Princess Legacy Challenge #Princess challenge rules #ts3

[max-xy]

MBAV script

Me + face claim:

Name: Max Marie Becerra

Species: Human but is the reincarnation of a witch that was killed in the 1600s. Also a “healer”

Aesthetic: kidcore, clowncore, grunge fairycore, y2k, 80’s, etc..

Age: 15 (May 1st, 1995)

Gender: non-binary (he/they/it/she/void/moth)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Hair: green

Eyes: Hazel

Height: 5’2

Teeth: straight, sharp canines

Diagnosis: ADHD, depression, and GAD(again I have these diagnosis irl)

Personality:

•Same as CR

•Goofy

•Compassionate

•Great at comforting others

•Funny

•Lovable

•sarcastic but doesn’t understand sarcasm

•Adorable

•Sassy

•Kinda oblivious

•Awkward in a cute way

•Easily flustered

•Sometimes a flirt

•Easy to get along with

•Able to stand up for others but not myself

•Tends to put my problems aside for others

•No one really knows about my problems unless they pry it out of me

•Strong Empath

•Hates crying in front of others(it makes me feel weak)

•Not quick to anger

•Will start singing randomly

•Stims a lot

•Tics

•hums a lot

•Able to react fast and is agile

•Can fight and improvise very easily

•Very strong (physically) even though I don’t look like it

•I know how to use a wide variety of weapons

•I can get information out of people easily

•I can be very stealthy when I want too

•Great at picking up others conscious and subconscious behaviors

•I pick up things easily

•Most people like me even if they just met me

•Knows a lot about mythology, philosophy, psychology, sociology, and ethics.

School: good grades, school comes easy to me, and staff likes me

Friends:

Ethan- met in 1st grade when a bully pushed him off the swing and I went to help him. Didn’t like me much because “I could defend myself”. Warmed up to me after I befriended Rory and Benny. He/him, unlabeled and definitely not straight. Acts like the tired friend but is as much to blame for the dumbassery and chaos.

Benny- Met in 1st. Non-binary, He/they, disaster bisexual. Doesn’t even try to pretend he isn’t a dumbass at this point. I confide in him the most.

Rory- Met in 1st. Non-binary, they/he/she/vam/vamp/vamps/vampself, and Panromantic/asexual disaster. If left alone together chaos will strike. Actually some what good at keeping a secret but don’t trust them with everything. Good with pep talks and advice.

Sarah- met in a Dusk fan club meeting in 8th grade. Kinda became friends and exchanged numbers. We later became friends through Ethan. Mom friend. Dating Erica. She/her Bisexual

Erica- met at the same meeting. Exchanged numbers. She tolerates me more than Benny, Ethan, or Rory. Pretends like she doesn’t. Dating Sarah. She/they, trans, lesbian. Will fight someone for you.

Jane- acts as my little sister. She/her, straight?.

All- We do movie nights at least once a month at Ethans house. Erica complains most of the time saying that Sarah dragged her along but she secretly likes going. We switch off on who picks the movie. Erica always picks a Dusk film. Tons of snacks for everyone. We let Jane stay up with us during movie nights.

Love life-

Ethan & Benny- we all have crushes on each other but scared to admit it because we don’t wanna mess up our friendship.

Oh yeah no one is Neurotypical(did I spell that right?)

Family:

Older sister(left)- Bones Becerra, she/they/xe, 19 years old, trans, lesbian. Lives at home while attending a public college for art studies, history, and literature. Small group of friends. Personality: chill, ADHD, doesn’t do good under pressure, tries to understand your situation, sleeps for 4 hours everyday, loves 70s and 80s movies, That 70’s Show and Sailor Moon are comfort shows, bites her lips a lot, bad with comforting people, that drunk girl that will help you in the bathroom and told your hair back while you puke, shows love by doing things for you or picking on you, and loves playing cards.

younger brother (right)- William Becerra, he/him, 10 years old, questioning. Personality: ADHD, loves video games, very hyperactive, has many fursonas, dresses up as animals, wears makeup and stickers, has vitiligo, has a Dino mask, loves dresses and skirts, raised on Disney, FNAF, Good Mythical Morning, and Discord, extroverted, big friend group but 2 close friends, good at public speaking, hates pizza, has a pet hamster and a lizard. Stims a lot.

Mother(left)- Elizabeth Becerra, she/her, 39 years old, lesbian. Married at 19 years old to high school sweetheart, first child(age 20, in 1991) second child(age 24, in 1995) third child(age 29, in 2000). Later figured out she was lesbian so filed for divorce and got full custody of all children. Has been dating Jessica for two years. Personality: Full on Disney adult, plans two or three trips to Disneyland a year, makes you comfort food when your sick, took parenting courses, always there to listen or offer support, you have friends? Great she adopted them, works as a children therapist, lets you take mental health days, helps with projects, loves watching crime documentaries and shows, will rant about her childhood, ADHD, will tell you how dispose of a body and hide evidence, believes in the supernatural, does tarot readings, and practices witch craft.

Moms girlfriend(right)- Jessica Miller, they/she, 37, non-binary, lesbian. They have no biological children but has adopted Lizzie’s children as their own. Runs their own online business were they sell their art, deco adult pacifiers, and old things they find while thrifting or dumpster diving. They have a studio set up in the house. Personality: they loves cooking, ASD, doing art, they don’t exactly know how to respond to emotions, their special interest is art and collecting stuffed animals, she is an age regressor, will rant about their favorite show or what new piece they’re working on, projects onto fictional characters(same), watches anime and cartoons, and recently got into FNAF because of William. Has a pet cat named Luz after Luz from The Owl House.

#mbav #shifting realities #shifting script #shifting to desired reality #mbav rory #mbav benny #mbav sarah #mbav erica #mbav ethan

[zewninz]

Dialogue Prompts #2

(italic/bold-colored texts = different person)

1. I only have one emotion and it’s anger. Last night you drunk-texted me a hundred heart emojis. Out of anger.

2. I don’t have time to explain how wrong you are . . . actually, it’s going to bother me if I don’t—

3. *name*, I started seeing someone. As in dating or hallucinations?

4. You know what 'fine' stands for? Fucked up, insecure, needy, and emotional.

5. Hey, *name*, I just got home. Where are you guys? The hospital . . . What? Why? *name* swallowed a watermelon seed. So? It’s not like it’s going to start growing in their stomach. . . . we’ll be home in ten minutes.

6. Today, I'm going to show you how not to be a noob at Fortnite.

7. Can we please stop saying the word 'sugar daddy'? Glucose guardian.

8. Have you ever considered . . . not breathing?

9. Guys, there's a monster under my bed and it's really ugly. Honestly, fuck you.

10. I've spent far too long doing this damn makeup to start fucking crying right now.

11. Everyone, hold your horses! Hold them close, cherish them— What? I don’t know, I haven’t slept in three days.

12. I love your eyes, but I love my eyes more because without mine, I can't see yours.

13. Take me to art museums and make out with me. But they said to not touch the masterpieces. That was the smoothest shit I've ever heard.

14. I look at *name* and I just . . . it's like when the Grinch's heart grows three sizes.

15. Question is; do I stay in bed or get out of it? Both. You get out of bed and get in mine. Why are you suddenly so smooth, I—

16. I can't talk to cute people, okay? I don't know how to fucking flirt!

17. Do you guys realize that we never stop tasting our own tongues? How about I taste yours for a change? That was smooth as fuck.

18. How many fucks do I give? Oh, yeah, zero. Therefore your comment is irrelevant.

19. Fuck you. If you want, go ahead.

20. Being single sucks. Maybe we should just marry each other.

21. I'm going to shower. Pfft, I don't get an invite?

22. I'm no longer a human being. I identify as a chicken nugget.

23. What's your favorite thing about me? Probably your smile. Seriously? Okay, fine, I love how you can kill a man in only two seconds.

24. My microwave is smarter than you.

25. Aside from cooking, what basic life skills do I not have? Oh, *name* . . . I’m not sure we have time for that.

26. Alright, guys, this doesn't have to be a big deal. Whoever ate my muffin, come forward and all will be forgiven. *nobody does* Smart. You knew I would never forgive you.

27. They’re tiny mints that live in a plastic prison. . . . I said let’s talk TACTICS.

28. I think your cat wants to kill me.

29. I can't believe we're finally here, I never thought we'd make it. Oh, for fuck's sake, my driving isn't that bad.

30. You don't need to kill off any more brain cells.

31. On a scale from 'Damnnnn, Daniel' to 'Fre sha voc ado', how are you feeling? It's between, 'It's an avocado, thanks!' and 'how did you defeat Captain America?', but as a solid answer I would say, 'I don't need no degree to be a clothing hanger'. How about you? Probably 'road work ahead'.

32. My number one rule is ignoring everything you said.

33. Why do you guys hate each other? We do not! It's just . . . if you offered me 500 dollars to stab him, I wouldn't hesitate. I'd do it for 5 bucks.

34. Shut up, your IQ's probably lower than a fly's.

35. Water can solve many problems. Want to lose weight? Drink water. Clear skin? Drink water. Get rid of someone you hate? Drown them. *name*, no!

36. Sorry, the wind must've blown away all my fucks.

37. When life gives you lemons, you— Squeeze them into your enemy's eyes as you watch them suffer in agony, while you squeeze more lemons so they can't see. *name*, no!

38. I wouldn't call it stalking, more like far distance admiring.

39. I accidentally ate *name*'s muffin . . . how much time left do you think I get to live? Ten. Ten what? Nine . . .

40. You're going to burn in a very special level in hell—a level they reserve for child molesters, animal abusers, and people who talk at the theater.

41. Don't break someone's heart, they only have one. Yeah, break their bones. They have 206 of those.

42. I'm listening to you, I'm just not paying attention.

43. You fell and hit your head. Do you remember anything? Uh . . . only the ambulance ride to the hospital. That wasn't an ambulance . . . But I hear a siren? Oh, that was *name*. He was screaming all the time. I was worried!

44. Oh, but sweetheart, you already look like a fool.

45. Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, are you awake yet? Fuck off. That sounds like a yes to me.

46. Since my dog likes you, then I guess I like you too.

47. Alright, *name*, what does a yellow light mean? Slow down. No, it means ‘speed up, red is coming’.

48. Why did you two stop? Keep flirting.

49. You’re useless. Not totally. I can be used as a bad example.

50. I'm sorry, did you just order fifty pieces of McNuggets for here, for all yourself?

(I don’t own any of these. Credit to their respective creators. I simply made a list.)

#dialogue prompt #dialogue prompts #writing prompt #writing prompts #writing #humor prompts #funny dialogues #incorrect quotes #humor dialogues #au prompts #au prompt #prompt #prompts #funny prompts #story prompts #story prompt #sentence starters #fake scene #fake scenes #au scene #au scenes #otp prompts #otp dialogue prompts #otp prompt #romance prompts #romance dialogue prompts #fluff prompts #fluff prompt #romance prompt #fluff dialogue prompts

[animalgirl225]

Queen Susan the Gentle Comes Home

Because C.S. Lewis did our queen of the radiant Southern Sun dirty

No copyright infringement intended. 

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

           Many years had passed since Susan had received the news on that tragic day. She had grieved for a time, but life had necessitated she move on. She had a comfortable home, a stable career, a loving partner whom she hoped to join lives with someday soon, and an overall good life, all things considered. One weekend afternoon, she moved about her small but cozy home, tidying and doing other such busy work. She lifted a small, intricate carving of a lion from a stand in the front hall, dusting underneath. She and Lucy had always shared an appreciation for lions. Such strong, graceful creatures. Why, Lucy’s favorite character from her silly imaginary land had been a lion. As she placed the lion back down, one of her cats, Truffle, walked into the room to join her brother, Hunter, in their favorite sunny window seat. She smiled as they cuddled, thinking of their slightly peculiar names. She had never been very fond of mushrooms, and while most cats enjoyed a good hunt, these two were rather lazy. Still, their names seemed right. She remembered the two words being used together a long time ago, but in what way she couldn’t recall.

Susan placed her feather duster down and looked around for her broom before remembering it had broken last week when Hunter had knocked it off the first landing. She’d have to go search her cramped attic for another. She climbed the stairs, the door creaking above her head as she pushed it open. Good gracious it was warm up here! Good thing she didn’t have long to find the broom; there it was; in a back corner by some large boxes. As she retrieved the broom and went to turn back to the stairs, however, she realized what the boxes were. The largest was labeled “Peter” the second labeled “Edmund,” and the third, and smallest box, labeled “Lucy.” Susan sighed sadly. She really must bring herself to organize her siblings’ old belongings and donate what she didn’t need, or want to remember. Slowly, she pulled Lucy’s box towards her, took a deep breath, and opened it, sneezing at the cloud of dust it raised. A small notebook sat on top of the rest of the box’s inhabitants. Two words were scratched upon the cover in a child’s handwriting- “Lucy’s Diary.”

Tears pricked at her eyes as Susan gently opened the battered notebook and began to read. The first entries were everyday thoughts, her anticipation for boarding school and her excitement to join Susan in her studies. Sniffling, Susan turned the page and froze. The date was the day they had left for boarding school, the day Peter had gotten in a scrum while waiting for the train. The entry, however, talked of none of that. The entry looked to be extensive, and detailed the siblings’ most recent ‘trip’ to that childish land, the one they had all called Narnia. She also noticed faded old sketches along the margins of odd creatures, half human and half animal. What had they called them? Fauns and centaurs? Such foolish words. Susan glanced at other notations and names. Trumpkin. Tumnus. Reepicheep. Oreius. Corin. Jadis. Maugrim. Mr. and Mrs. Beaver. Susan laughed to herself. Lucy had been so imaginative with the other names, but Mr. and Mrs. Beaver? She must have run out of ideas. Having already put all that silliness behind her, Susan began to close the book, but something stopped her. What, she couldn’t say. Perhaps it was the sudden memory of standing in front of a crowd in a gorgeous marble building, a delicate, golden-flowered crown being laid upon her head, and a name, Queen Susan the Gentle. And there was that young man she thought she once knew. What was his name? Caspian? What an odd name. Certainly not from around her part of England.

Susan put the book aside and looked at the rest of the contents in the box. More drawings of flowered people coming out of trees, of small bearded men, a mouse with a sword. Susan made a strange noise, one of half impatience and half amusement. They’d all had such intricate imaginations, but Lucy was the dreamiest. She had tried to insist that this world was real, long beyond Susan’s patience for the childish game. While she had loved her little sister very much, it had eventually formed somewhat of a rift between the two, as well as her brothers, who continued to entertain Lucy’s imaginations. Continuing to browse through the drawings, she flipped over the last picture and stared at the sketch. A magnificent lion looked back at her, his eyes large and gentle. There was that lion Lucy had dreamt so much about. The picture was labeled simply. What a strange name for a lion, Aslan. As the thought crossed her mind, the softest sigh of a fresh breeze wafted a single dark hair out of her face. Susan looked around in concern; she’d have to find and board that draft before it became a leak. As she turned back to the picture and stared into those eyes, a small seed of doubt came upon her. It was just an ordinary lion, right? But where had Lucy ever seen such a lion? Certainly not at the London Zoo. Those lions had all been young the last time Lucy had visited with Susan, whereas this lion was grown and regal. And why did it look so oddly familiar? Susan shook her head and placed the drawings aside, reaching back into the box.

The bottom of the small box held some pictures. Most were of the siblings, and Susan gazed at them with a heavy heart. She wished she had been able to mend their relations before the accident, that she hadn’t let such a silly game split the family. She flipped through the pictures, and came to a stop at the last one. Within its borders sat the image of a beautiful, intricately carved wardrobe. What on odd picture to be in this box. Even stranger, Susan thought the wardrobe looked familiar. A strange sense of longing filled her heart as she stared at the image. She felt as though this wardrobe were oddly connected to some long-forgotten, wonderful memory.

She gazed at the image a while longer before shaking her head, repacking the box, gently placing the small diary on top, and closing the box back up. As she closed the box’s flaps to push it back into the corner, she thought she heard a gentle whisper, a deep, rich voice that simply said “Susan…” It must be the heat of the attic, she thought. It really was a warm day. She began to climb down the ladder of the attic, but gazed one more time towards that back corner. Did something just growl? How odd. Hopefully there weren’t any unwelcome guests in the walls. She’d have to keep a close watch on the area.

That night, Susan had the most vivid dreams she’d had in years. She dreamt of magnificent creatures, griffins and minotaurs, and talking mice and horses. She dreamt of epic battles, an evil white witch, and a duel between Peter and another man dressed as a king. She dreamt of a magnificent water god rising from a river, a bearded man presenting her with a horn and bow and arrows, and of the glorious image of a powerful, gentle lion. And her siblings. Peter, Edmund, and Lucy, all of them together at a castle, celebrating a victorious battle. The last thing she remembered before she awoke was the strongest, loudest roar she had ever heard.  

           Susan awoke with tears streaming down her face. Everything had returned. Their rule over Narnia for 15 years, their return to England and the professor, their journey back to Narnia that one fateful day, and their battle to win Narnia back from the Telmarines. How could she have forgotten? She had lived a whole other life, a wonderful life, in a beautiful country hidden in a wardrobe. Susan cried harder than she had since the accident. How could she have left that world behind? Narnia had been everything to her. Why hadn’t she been there with her family on that fateful day? She arose from her bed early to begin her day; she was not going to get any more sleep this morning. Suddenly she was struck by the urge to visit the cemetery where her family was buried, a place she had not visited for some time now. She had to tell her family what she had remembered, and she owed them all an apology. Lucy especially. After dressing hastily, she was about to leave when she remembered Lucy’s diary upstairs. She must bring it with her. After retrieving the book, she ran towards the front hall, startling Truffle and Hunter as she passed. Clutching the book to her chest, she flung open the door and ran down the steps. “Lucy! Ed! Peter! I remember! I remember it all!” she cried, not caring in the slightest what the neighbors thought of her state. She felt she could run all the way to the cemetery, and in her rush, she forgot to heed her surroundings. As she entered the roadway, a car horn rang out, louder and louder until it became a roar. And then, quite suddenly, everything was quiet.

           The bustle of the London morning was gone. Susan opened her eyes. She couldn’t describe what she saw; the light was strangely hazy, and were those trees? She couldn’t tell. She looked down and saw herself standing on a carpet of soft grass, small wildflowers growing among the green blades. How on earth had she gotten to the cemetery so fast? She had barely left her house, last she remembered. But as she looked around, she didn’t see any headstones. In fact, she couldn’t see much of anything in this dim light. Something rustled behind her. She turned quickly and saw a massive shape in the haze. “Hello?” she asked tentatively.

           “Susan.” a voice said. She remembered that voice. The very voice that had given her that name, Queen Susan the Gentle, and had told her all those years ago that her time in Narnia had come to an end. “Aslan?” She whispered in stunned disbelief. “My child, why have you forsaken me?” the great lion asked, still shrouded in mist. “Aslan, I, I just…” She started, but she couldn’t finish. She had no excuse. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly, and fell to the ground in tears. “I lost myself. I lost Narnia. I lost my family. I lost…you.” She sobbed into her hands. “I’ve lost everything. Please, forgive me!”

           Something soft touched her knee, and she looked up to find the magnificent lion before her, his long tail resting on her leg. She sprang forward like she did all those years ago with Lucy at the Stone Table, burying her face into his glorious mane. “Oh Aslan, I’m so sorry.” she whispered. “Dear One, I never forgot you. You did as I asked, growing and living in your world. I was saddened to watch as you forgot me, however. That, I did not ask of you.” He said with his rich, gentle voice. “I know. I’m sorry, Aslan. I was wrong; I forgot who I was. Can you ever forgive me?” Susan replied, pulling away and looking the lion in the eyes. “Child, I could never not. It is as I said before: once a queen of Narnia, always a queen of Narnia. Welcome to my country, Queen Susan. Welcome home.”

           At his words, the haze cleared, and Susan found herself in what looked like Narnia, but everything was so much more beautiful and…perfect. She gazed around in wonder at the magnificent waterfalls, the towering snow-capped mountains, and the wildflowers growing in beautiful clusters. And then, there they were. She saw figures walking toward her and ran to meet them with tears in her eyes, the great lion following at a distance. Lucy, Edmund, Peter, her parents, Caspian, Mr. Tumnus, Trumpkin, and the Beavers all gathered around her with joy, welcoming her as a Friend of Narnia once more.

#narnia #susan pevensie #queen susan the gentle #aslan #lucy pevensie #edmund pevensie #peter pevensie #the chronicles of narnia #trumpkin #mr. tumnus

[ordinaryschmuck]

Top 20 BEST Animated Series of the 2010s-15th Place

The fifteenth place is a tie, primarily because both of these shows are equally good, in my opinion. Some of you might disagree with me, but to that I say-

ALL ABOARD THE HATE TRAIN!

CHOO CHOO!

#15-We Bare Bears (2015-2020)/Big City Greens (2018-)

The Plot(s): Both shows involve an unorthodox family trying to fit in with what’s considered normal. In We Bare Bears, it’s three brother bears (Grizz, Panda, and Ice Bear) trying to fit in with modern society. And in Big City Greens, it’s a family of farmers (Cricket, Tilly, Bill, and Gramma) trying to adjust to city life after the family farm got sold due to low profits. In both shows, these characters make new friends, go on wacky adventures, and learn that they’ll always be okay as long as they’re together.

Aside from that brief description, I can sum up these shows in two words: Charmingly simplistic. There’s no intense continuity, no ongoing story arcs, or even an evilly evil villain hoping to take over the world...for the most part. These are just two different shows, with two types of families trying to get by in life. And honestly, it’s those families that make these shows work.

The dynamic between the bears in We Bare Bears is what makes the show so charming to watch. These three actually act like brothers (from what I’ve been told. I, unfortunately, don’t have brothers), and seeing their brotherly bond does nothing less than putting a smile on my face. Plus, the loyalty they have for each other is downright heartwarming, especially when the series flashes back to when they were kids.

And while I can’t entirely say that the Green family has the same amount of charm to them, there is one thing that I love. And that’s the fact that (kinda spoiler warning) they are an almost complete family in a Disney cartoon, with both parents being a prominent role in the series. Yes, Bill and Nancy are divorced, but that doesn’t mean Nancy isn’t around for her kids. She shows up frequently after her introduction and even gives off an impression that she’s a semi-good mom. In fact, Bill and Nancy seem to still have a level of respect for each other despite missing their old spark. It’s almost as if the writers are trying to say that not all divorces mean the destruction of a family, which I can respect. Because it can teach kids to not be afraid of the “D” word (kinda spoilers over).

But it’s not just the main characters that shine in these shows. The members of the supporting cast in We Bare Bears have a level of likability and depth. Chloe is often outgoing and laid back when she’s with the bears, who fails to make any other connections due to being a child prodigy. Ranger Tabes is often audacious and enjoyably energetic while also taking pride in her work and feels hurt when she thinks she’s not taken seriously. Then there are Charlie and Nom Nom, who have a level of charm to them. Despite being intended to come off as annoying and unlikable. Even the background characters are impressive due to the diversity of cultures and races that a viewer can see in each episode.

As for Big City Greens, the characters do not really have any depth outside of the main cast. What you see is pretty much what you get with most of these characters, aside from maybe Gloria, but even then, it’s only on occasion. Big City Greens also dodges showing diversity by having everyone be a shade of bright pastel colors. But I give credit to the show for having the first gay couple in a Disney cartoon...even though they get dropped by season two and are never fully confirmed as gay. Which pales in comparison to Luz and Amity from The Owl House, but it was at least a start! Sometimes, you gotta take baby steps before taking leaps ahead of the game. And don’t get me wrong, while I still prefer characters who have depth, that doesn’t mean I hate the characters in Big City Greens. Everyone does their job of adding to the story and making audiences laugh. In fact, making audiences laugh is what I would say Big City Greens does better than We Bare Bears.

Now in fairness. We Bare Bears is pretty funny from time to time. However, when it comes to which series makes me laugh the most, I have to pick Big City Greens. The first few episodes alone had me laughing much more than most of We Bare Bears' first season. It also helps that the show has a very random sense of humor elevated by the show’s energy. But I'll give it to you that comedy is subjective, and there are a couple of jokes that don’t work in Big City Greens. The best example is when the show lingers too long on a joke that didn’t really work as much as the writers thought it did. But that does not change the fact that Big City Greens is still a pretty funny show.

However, while We Bare Bears lacks comedy, it more than enough makes up for it with charm. This show is downright delightful to watch in almost every episode. Rarely do I feel anger when watching this series (which I wish I could say about previous/future entrees), and it has everything to do with the cast. I wasn’t kidding when I said that even intentionally annoying characters have a level of charm and likeability to them. In fact, the only bad episodes are when they begin to act uncharacteristically cruel and selfish. Mostly because those words could not be farther from a definition of We Bare Bears.

However, if I had to pick out the major fault that We Bare Bears have, it’s the fact that the show plays things a little too safe. For instance, whenever the show tries to go dark, it is pretty tame compared to other shows. The best example is how nearly every dangerous predator in this series somehow looks adorable. Wolfs, snakes, and even cougars (the big cats, not the middle-aged women) are somehow drawn to be cute and cuddly. I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want a show to make kids think that dangerous woodland creatures like these are something you could just give a belly rub. I understand that this is a kids' show, but Big City Greens not only has the same rating, but it’s on the Disney Channel. And yet, it feels like that show has bigger cajones than the series formerly on the same network as Regular Show. That is not a good thing.

Going back to Big City Greens, I can sum up every problem I have with this show with one character: Cricket Green. Now I don’t entirely hate Cricket...but I’m willing to bet other people will. I can tell that the show is trying to make him a lovable little rascal that’s sort of a mix of Bart Simpson and Timmy Turner. But in the end, I think he causes more damage than either of those characters have in their entire lives. Cricket claims how sorry he is at the end of every episode, but I doubt he learns his lesson. We Bare Bears has a similar problem with Panda, but even when Panda is at his most selfish, he doesn’t do anything harmful to anyone but himself (except in the episode “Braces," but we don’t need to talk about that). Plus, even when he does go a tad too far, Panda’s voice actor (Bobby Moynihan) does a great job at making Panda seem sincere when he’s apologizing for his actions. Not to mention that Bobby gives a sense of realism and relatability with most of Panda’s lines. Then there is Cricket’s voice actor, Chris Houghton, an adult man trying to voice a child. I understand the logic behind using an adult over a kid (this happens more times than you think), but I feel like I would get the impression that Cricket is an innocent kid who doesn’t know better if he actually sounded like a kid.

In the end, neither of these shows are really that impressive compared to others. Thankfully with good comedy, charm, and great characters, they still manage to be really good for all ages. So while We Bare Bears and Big City Greens may not be as big as any other show in the last decade, they’re still good enough that you might just bear it!

(Two for one! I told you I would make up the embarrassment that was Dan Vs.!)

#top 20 of 2010s #we bare bears #big city greens #what i thought about

[yue-muffin]

I am finally (finally!!) finishing Yuri on Ice. I started watching it when it first came out, then got impatient of waiting week by week for the next episode, so I figured I would binge watch it when it finished airing. Long story short, got busy and never finished it (I did listen to the soundtrack a bunch though).

So, I figured I would finally finish this show! I’ve been a super casual fan of figure skating since the 2014 Sochi Olympics and I knew a skating anime was going to come eventually, after Hanyu won the gold, so I was really stoked to watch YOI too, haha. Life just happened and I forgot about it.

(Not going to lie, I hate watching sports, except for equestrian events and archery occasionally, but I sat down for a brief moment and that so happened to be when Yuzuru Hanyu was skating his SP. It was the most serendipitous moment of my life haha.)

(But I really do mean “super casual fan”. I never dedicated the time to learn all of the terminology and don’t expect me to name any of the jumps. This will also be a super casual live blog.)

Episodes 1-2

Episode 1

When the animation for this anime is good, it really is good. I feel like skating is a bit tricky. If it’s not done right, it’ll probably look rather choppy since so much of the sport is flowing lines and the amount of athleticism it takes to make good performances look almost effortless.

I really like the opening sequence for this reason. The transition from their child-selves to their adult-selves and the reflection of one person’s career. I feel like I have no comments regarding the opening song. It’s got a catchy beat, the animation is gorgeous, and it’s one of the more memorable anime opening songs I’ve heard. It just fits the theme of the show so well, too.

The Makkachin phone cover is so cute. The amount of detail that went into this show really astounded me. The lanyard clasps and the words on his ID? The website? 

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to really hate chibi-cut-ins and those little interlude infodumps/intros that are common in anime (I think they work best in a manga medium, personally...), but that’s a personal thing.

First time I watched this, my reaction to Russian Yuri was “lol what’s your problem?? edgy little brat”. Still is haha. “I greatly object to sharing a name with a LOSER” is the vibe he gives off. He’s also lucky Yuri is a nice guy and didn’t just punch him for getting so up in his face and screaming at him.

Well, now that was just cruel. He’s having one of those “can it GET any worse” days, to which the universe answers “yes, yes it can”. I’m sure we’ve all had those days where nothing goes right and you just want to curl up and die (aka sleep) until it’s all over.

If there is one thing this show really did well as early as the first 3-4 episodes, it’s depicting Yuri’s mental state. His crushing disappointment in himself, everyone around him trying to cheer him up or talk about what comes next while he’s still just living in the moment, trying to get through the rest of this day.

Ha, my name is pretty common where I grew up, especially at the time I was going to school, and I relate so hard to turning because you hear your name only to realize no one was actually talking to you. Even worse for Yuri because it’s Viktor talking! His idol! Also, I felt it when he froze and walked away after Viktor asked if he wanted a photo with him.

Not going to screenshot everything, not going to screenshot everything...

Yeah, even in my hometown I never knew anyone who skated - ice or roller skating, aside from birthday parties. I personally have two left feet and I’m lucky I managed to stand on the ice without falling, but I never did figure out how to move. My dad had to pull me around (I was 10 or so?). But also, that scene adds some perspective to how Yuri is seen by others, which is important given we live in his head as the watchers of his story. It’s clear that his thoughts of himself don’t necessarily reflect what the public or his friends/family think of him.

A large part of the charm of this series, for me, was that Yuri feels like such a real person - him and his story, his doubts and his hopes (even his weight gain haha), are really relatable even if ice skating is so far removed from myself.

I’m only screenshot-ing dogs now.

Tiny Yuri is so cute though, with his little doggo! 

Haha! And his little blush watching Viktor on tv.

Cuteness overload haha Yuko is so cute?? I love how everyone in his life is supportive in their own way.

Doggos only! Utterly adorable.

Ah, as usual, the live commentary over the skating that I half like because I have no clue what’s going on, but the other half of me just wants to listen and watch in peace lol

No comment on the double performance aside from: ALL THE BUDGET. But honestly if you’re not going to go ham on the performances (especially the best ones) in an anime about ice skating, why even bother lol.

Yuko had triplets. Triplets. I cannot even- (haha I love kids, I work with them for my job occasionally but having THREE of my own to go home would sound like a nightmare).

Doggo! But actually I just really like his apartment. I really like that they gave Viktor a standard poodle Yuri a miniature poodle because I feel like everyone including myself forgets the big floofs exist and in fact are the “standard” size, not the tiny guys.

HERE COMES THAT SCENE. The one that made the internet explode. I kind of still remember the night it aired, lol. I also can’t believe they got the green-light for that, haha.

I also love the social media posts in the ending. Social media in anime is always fun, it’s such a huge part of our lives nowadays. The little glimpses into the lives of the other skaters is not only fun, but makes them feel a little more alive, especially because they won’t be the center of the story.

Episode 2

I promise this one isn’t going to be as long.

This “farewell” gives me live action drama vibes. It’s hilarious.

Under the table! I can’t with the adorableness. Also, now I’m hungry.

I-Is it ok for him to be scratching the tatami like that.

It took me forever to figure out that the random English is likely because they’re supposed to be speaking in English to each other lol. It just makes sense.

At least one of the kids learned their lesson and asked before uploading haha.

Viktor not so subtly trying to find out if he likes or is dating anyone is hilarious. 

And Russian Yuri has a cat! I forgot about that. He does give off alley cat vibes.

Yuri, you literally just had an “ah-ha!” moment, but then couldn’t resist posting a pic of your new buy on social media lol...

I feel like people either like him or hate him (Russian Yuri), but to me he’s just such a teenage boy. They can be assholes sometimes, you know?? And hopefully they grow out of it haha.

I love Yuri’s smirk haha. Yup, don’t engage. He’s an angry 15 year old, you’re a grown ass adult. It’s really hard to forget age differences in anime but what self-respecting adult is actually going to have it out with a teenager being unreasonable?

I also totally forgot they nicknamed Russian Yuri, Yurio in the actual show lol.

OUCH that self-doubt.

The Makkachin tissue box...

Anyways, the first unofficial competition of the show starts next episode! I did see that one when it came out, but I think I stopped after episode 3...

#yuri on ice #yoi #ユーリ!!! on ICE #image heavy post #the muffin's liveblogging adventures #ill probably stop screenshotting only dogs... #probably

[missnmikaelson-main]

The Forgotten - Chapter 27

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 , Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21 , Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26

Rebekah clung to the arm of the chair, watching the coffee table with wary eyes as the firelight winked off the sharp knife.

“Are you still staring at that?” Elijah held the back of her chair.

“We’re stuck in here,” she gestured towards the windows, “and there’s nothing better to do – at least not while Hope is napping.”

She stretched forward to pick up the knife and spun the point on the tip of her finger; a small trickle of blood ran toward her palm.

“You’re going to drive yourself crazy,” he plucked the blade from her hands, circling around to sit beside her.

Rebekah glanced at him, struggling to recall the last time he had appeared so haggard, or the last time she had seen him in jeans. She supposed it made sense; trapped in the house there was nobody to intimidate or impress, and with her there was no reason to hide the weary set of his mouth.

“Better I lose my mind then Elena,” she sighed, sinking into her chair. “Between her sleepless nights, and searching for answers, she’s running herself ragged.”

“And you think Freya’s botched spell holds the answer?”

Klaus strode into the room where his siblings sat, blinking to bring some moisture back to his dry eyes.

“All that that knife holds is the ability to enrage me,” he grumbled, snatching it he drove the end down into the table.

“Was that necessary?” Rebekah rolled her eyes. She just managed to catch her glass before it tumbled to the floor; they were running dangerously low on dishes as it was. It wasn’t like they could replace the things they broke anymore.

Klaus scrubbed a hand over his face, exhaling slowly.

Elijah lifted a bunched cloth from his brother’s shoulder.

His head jerked up, tired eyes watching Elijah fold and line up the pink stripes.

“You’ve got a rabbit in your pocket,” he nodded.

“Feeling a little peckish, Nik?” Rebekah smirked, unable to resist teasing.

“Sod off,” he growled. Pulling the stuffed animal free, he cocked his head to the side, listening for any sign that his daughter was fussing without it. “What are you doing with that bloody knife anyway?”

“Lamenting the fact that it’s not bloody,” she spun her glass in her hand, watching her brother absentmindedly fiddle with the rabbit’s ear. “I don’t understand what went wrong.”

“Freya’s magic is subpar compared to our dear aunt?” Klaus shook his head.

“But the logic makes sense,” Rebekah shook her head. “Dahlia’s three greatest weaknesses should have rendered her mortal.”

“Perhaps the ingredients were wrong,” Elijah placed the blanket down on the table in line with the knife. “Misinterpreted, perhaps?”

“How do you misinterpret sacred Norwegian soil, Viking ash, and blood?” She sighed, tipping her head back to stare at the ceiling.

“Was it the right blood?”

Rebekah jumped, twisting towards the door.

“Sorry,” Caroline shrugged, “didn’t mean to scare you. Although I did enjoy the result,” a small smile tugged at her lips.

“That’s the third time this week,” Rebekah’s eyes trailed over the baby vampire. “How do you move so quietly in heels?”

“I’m part cat,” she deadpanned, moving forward on silent feet. “You didn’t answer my question. Was it the right blood?”

“I don’t see how it could have been wrong,” Klaus sighed.

“Were there requirements for the blood?” Caroline perched on the coffee table, crossing her ankles. “Did it have to be a certain blood type?”

“In a way,” Rebekah finished the last of her drink. “It had to be the blood of the witch who broke Dahlia’s heart: Freya.”

“Freya?” Caroline’s brows knit together.

“Yes,” Klaus’ eyes flickered over her face.

“Freya,” Caroline repeated. “The beloved child your aunt stole away from her only sister?”

“That is who she is,” Klaus frowned. “Why is that important?”

“Well…” Caroline chewed her bottom lip, moving her hands as she spoke. “It’s just that stealing a child from her sobbing mother and younger brother sounds pretty heartless to me. And then she went on to make Freya’s life a living hell.”

“Somebody broke her heart long before Freya came into the picture,” Rebekah straightened up.

“That makes the blood open to interpretation,” Caroline glanced over her shoulder. “The only question is who did it?”

++++

“Elena, you need to sleep,” Kol ran a hand back through his hair.

“I can’t sleep,” she took the stairs down to the courtyard.

“Sure you can,” he skirted the fountain, barely sparing Finn and Sage a nod as he passed. “All you have to do is close your eyes.”

She whirled on him, stabbing his chest with her shaking finger. Muscles jumped under her skin. “How am I supposed to do that? How, Kol?”

“How am I supposed to sleep when every time I close my eyes I see her?” Her stomach twisted; bile rose in the back of her throat and tears shimmered in her red eyes. “How am I supposed to sleep when all I can see is her taking our baby?”

“How?” She shrieked.

He reached for her shoulders, pulling her closer as she struggled against his grip until she was encased in his arms. Her fingers curled around his jacket. He smoothed down her hair as she sobbed, kissing the top of her head. He could feel a gentle shifting where her stomach pressed tightly to his.

Her tears slowed, trailing off into the occasional hiccup as Kol lowered her to sit on the edge of the fountain.

“I will die before I let that bitch anywhere near our baby,” he swore, trailing his fingers down her arm.

She clung to his shirt, glancing up through wet lashes and whispering. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Nobody is dying Elena,” Finn moved some broken wood aside. The courtyard was slowly being cleaned up and resembling something semi-respectable – if in desperate need of repairs.

“I made sure of that,” Sage swept up some broken glass. “Remember?”

“How could I forget?” Elena made a sound between a groan and a laugh. “I hated you for that.”

“It all worked out,” she surveyed the courtyard, “you still found enough white oak for your spell.”

“And then promptly destroyed it,” Finn brushed some dust from his sleeves. “Right?” He lifted an eyebrow.

“Right,” Elena whispered.

“Then you truly have nothing to worry about,” he nodded, gesturing towards the stairs. “So go and get some sleep because Kol is right, you need it. This isn’t healthy.”

“I still have plenty to worry about,” she lowered her eyes, staring at the ground. “She’s still coming back for her,” she smoothed a hand over her stomach, “and we can’t stop her.”

“We’ll find a way, darling,” he rubbed her upper arm.

A loud knock drew their attention up toward the front of the house. Elena used Kol’s arm to awkwardly get to her feet and then crossed her arms. She stared at the floor, walked around the remaining rubble and ducked into the hall leading to the door.

“I’m surprised you haven’t put her under with a spell, brother,” Finn watched Elena go.

“I could put her to sleep, but I can’t control her dreams.” Kol rubbed the knotted muscles in the back of his neck. “I’d be trapping her in her nightmares.”

“What about dreamless sleep?” Finn tilted his head. “Or peaceful dreams? There are spells for it.”

“The compound isn’t exactly equipped for magic,” Kol frowned.

++++

“Wow…” Elena lifted her head when she heard Marcel’s voice. “I haven’t seen you this distraught since that time you bumped into Elijah in Europe. Do you remember that?” He stood a foot away from the barrier.

She nodded, shivering at the vivid recollection. She could see Elijah in her mind’s eye as he drank himself into a stupor. He had been so far gone when she found him that he didn’t even recognize her glamour, and after learning why he was drowning his sorrows she had wanted to join him.

“This is a little different then finding out people I care about are at the bottom of the ocean,” she whispered. “What are you doing here?”

“We brought you some stuff,” he tipped his head to the left.

Elena followed his gaze to where Davina and Thierry were pulling some bags from the trunk of his car.

“Hey,” Davina greeted. She pulled up the handle of a rolling suitcase and strode towards the door, nearly crossing the threshold before remembering at the last second.

“What’s all this?” Elena squinted. She recognized the bag; it was the same one she had dragged to Greece and back.

“I… we…” she amended, “thought you might like some of your own things. You must be longing for your stuff.”

“Davina packed your clothes,” Thierry lifted a cooler from the trunk, “I made sure she put your journal in as well.”

Warmth spread through her chest, momentarily chasing away the cold. Her eyes surveyed the bags as she curled her fingers around the handle Davina nudged through the open door; there was fresh blood, some groceries and several bags full of different things from the mansion.

“Thank you,” she rubbed a hand over her cheek, tucking hair behind her ear.

“You okay?” Marcel leaned against the gate. “You look tired. Have you been sleeping?”

“Of course not,” she scoffed. Her posture relaxed a fraction when she felt a warm hand on her back. She looked up over her shoulder. “Look, we got a care package.”

“Oh I’m thinking this was all for you,” Kol kissed her temple. He reached and took the cooler Thierry held out. He flipped the lid, chuckling at the contents. “AB negative?”

“That was not easy to find,” Marcel shook his head.

“I believe it,” Elena smiled.

“Sophie sent some gumbo too,” Davina waved her hand, “it’s in one of the bags. She felt really bad about Monique locking us in the cottage.”

“Did you ever figure out why she did that?” Elena leaned into Kol’s side.

Davina shuffled her feet, lowering her eyes. Guilt prickled the back of her skull. “She… she wanted to trap me like I trapped her. She said she was going to let you out after a few hours.”

“Personally I have a little trouble believing that,” Marcel rolled his eyes.

“Personally I don’t really care anymore,” Elena shut her eyes, inhaling sharply. “I just want to get out of this house so I can attempt to disappear.”

“You know that won’t work, my love,” Kol murmured. “You heard Freya: her magic will be like a beacon.”

“Let me dream, Kol. Let me dream,” she sighed. She let go of the suitcase and reached for the cooler. “I’m going to go put this away, and glare at Klaus if he goes for the AB negative.”

Kol nodded, watching her go for a moment before turning back to the guests.

“How is she really?” Thierry frowned. “She said she hadn’t slept.”

“She hasn’t,” he shook his head. “She’s terrified, and I don’t know what to do to calm her down.”

“Because you’re freaking out too?” Davina guessed, crossing her arms.

“I believe I have a right to ‘freak out’, little witch,” his jaw ticked. He cursed under his breath when she turned. “Wait.”

“Why?” She tapped her foot on the sidewalk.

“Because,” he gritted his teeth, “I need your help.”

“Why would I help you?” Her blue eyes hardened.

“You’ll help me, so I can help her,” he smirked, nodding to where Elena had disappeared.

She glanced over his shoulder. “Fine,” she uncrossed her arms. “What do you want?”

“Lavender, smoky quartz and parchment.”

“Where am I supposed to find smoky quartz?” She frowned.

“There’s some at the Jardin Gris,” Thierry cleared his throat. “I can take you.”

“I thought that place was shut down.”

“I have a key,” he shoved his hands in his pockets. “We’ll be back in a half an hour.”

++++

“Where’d all of this come from?” Hayley slipped into the kitchen, surveying the multitude of bags. “People outside of this family actually like this family?”

“Don’t be ridiculous Hayley,” Kol unloaded a grocery bag; “people in this family don’t like this family. Elena is the only Original to inspire friendship wherever she goes.”

“I do not,” she stifled a yawn. Her tired eyes fell to Hope as Hayley moved towards the counter. “Hi,” she traced the baby’s tiny fist with her finger, “I thought you were napping.”

“She was,” Hayley carefully passed her daughter to Elena, “but then she woke up and decided she was hungry.”

A wrinkle appeared between Hope’s brows, and in that moment she was the image of her father; she made a displeased grunt and suckled at the pacifier.

“Do you get cranky when you’re hungry?” She cooed. “Thierry used to get really cranky when he was hungry.”

“She’s not a very cranky baby,” Hayley shook her head, reaching into the fridge for formula.

“Are you sure she’s Nik’s?” Kol flipped on the bottle warmer.

“I’m pretty sure,” Hayley rolled her eyes in the direction of the courtyard.

“Then she must get her temperament from you,” Elena managed a small smile for Hope.

Hayley’s loud laugh startled Hope into wiggling against Elena’s bump; the baby kicked up in response, to which Hope harrumphed and wiggled again.

“Okay,” amusement leaked through Elena’s weary voice, “somebody needs to take her; she’s started a shove off with her little cousin.”

“Ah,” Kol smirked, “so she is Nik’s.”

“Are you implying that I push people for no reason?” Klaus strode into the room and plucked Hope from Elena’s arms.

“I’m not implying anything,” Kol placed the last of the groceries in the fridge, “I’m saying it outright.”

Elena placed a hand on Kol’s chest, gently pushing him back a step and inserting herself between the brothers. She really wasn’t sure how they had survived the last two weeks in close quarters.

A piercing cry filled the kitchen, reminding her.

Hope was the reason the brothers had refrained from fighting and destroying the rest of the compound in the process. Hope and her; Klaus was busy taking care of his child and Kol had his hands full with her.

Hayley tested the bottle on her wrist and then passed it to Klaus.

Elena pulled a bag of blood from the fridge.

“Is that AB negative?” Klaus squinted at the label.

“Hands off,” she growled, opening the bag and taking a long pull.

“You’ll find my hands are full at the moment,” he looked down to where Hope suckled the bottle.

Elena was prepared with a smart retort, but the sudden arrival of the rest of the family held her tongue. She sipped her blood, tilting her head as Caroline gestured people towards the table.

Elena shrugged and sat in the chair Kol pulled out for her, knowing better than to ever argue with Caroline Forbes about anything; the woman could make a grown man cry before she possessed super strength.

“Was there something you wished to share, Caroline?” Finn leaned back in his chair. His brows lowered when she dropped the knife on the table.

“She developed a theory earlier,” Klaus shifted Hope onto his shoulder, rubbing her back.

“I think I know why this knife didn’t work,” Caroline leaned over the table, bracing her hands on the wood and turning toward Freya. “You used the wrong blood.”

“What are you talking about?” Freya frowned. “The spell required the blood of…”

“The witch who broke her heart,” Caroline finished. “Except, Dahlia’s heart was broken long before you came into the picture.”

Kol’s hand found Elena’s knee beneath the table.

“Who then?” His eyes flickered over his siblings faces. “How are we meant to solve a mystery from before we were born?”

“I believe that’s why she’s called us all here,” Rebekah rolled her eyes. “Go on, love.”

“I think the answer,” Caroline glanced towards Freya, “is in the rest of the spell.”

“Sacred soil?” Sage guessed, tilting her head.

“Ashes of her oppressors,” Caroline cocked an eyebrow.

“Viking ashes?” Finn’s eyes darted to his siblings.

“She was oppressed by Vikings, right?” Caroline tilted her head.

“She told me once that they murdered everyone in her village and made her use magic for them,” Freya nodded.

“Right,” she gestured with her hand to the witch. “Okay, so, she’s oppressed by Vikings to the point where their ashes become a weakness for her, and then her sister – arguably the last person she has left in the world – leaves her to marry a Viking – possibly one of the ones involved in the slaughter of her neighbors. Do any of you see where I’m going with this?”

“Mother?” Kol’s brows shot up. “To kill our aunt and save our children we need the blood of our mother?”

“Yes,” Caroline nodded.

“Our dead mother?” Kol’s heart slowed.

“Yes.”

“The woman we cremated?” Elena paled.

“Yes.”

“So there really is no hope,” Elijah glanced toward his niece as she was transferred to her mother’s embrace.

“Not necessarily,” Caroline folded her arms on the table.

“What do you mean ‘not necessarily’?” Freya threw up her hands. “It’s next to impossible to bring back the dead when they have earthly remains. There is no possible way we could get her blood now.”

Elena didn’t realize she was drinking the blood faster and faster until the bag was empty and she was sucking on air. She wanted to swear, scream and cry but there was a baby in the room; the bag crinkled in her hand.

“We are royally screwed,” she muttered.

“Wow,” Caroline snickered. “I honestly thought you’d catch on first.”

“What are you talking about?” Kol frowned.

Caroline shifted, watching the confused expressions of her fellow prisoners for a second before sighing.

“Seriously?” She shook her head. “Seriously, nobody? Nobody can think of a solution?” She waited a beat and then leaned over the table towards Elena. “I’m sure you remember how you two met… when you met…”

“When… oh…” Elena’s mouth popped open. “That’s…”

“Brilliant,” Kol finished. “That’s bloody brilliant.”

“I was gonna say dangerous,” Elena shook her head.

“Elena’s right,” Finn shook his head. “Mother lived a thousand years ago.”

“What about a few months?” Kol countered. “She was alive in Mystic Falls when I went in the coma.”

“We already manipulated time around that spot once,” she shook her head. “It was dangerous than and it would be a lot worse now. We can’t send someone back a few months; who knows what would happen to our present, or the fabric of reality for that matter, if someone is walking around with a perfect body double.”

“It’s one thing when it’s hours,” Finn added. “That’s what time manipulation spells were made for, but it’s another entirely when a longer span is in question.”

“Elena went back in time and everything was fine,” Elijah glanced at her.

“But I had nearly eighty years to work out a solution,” she shook her head. “I put myself in an enchanted sleep a few days before I was born so there was no chance of interfering with my human life.”

“Whoever went back would have to go to a time before they existed,” Freya pushed her hands through her hair. “And that leaves a very long stretch of time.”

“I could go,” Kol rubbed small circles on Elena’s thigh with his thumb.

“Are you crazy?” She grasped his wrist.

“That’s one of the many reasons you love me, darling,” he smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“It’s a thousand years,” her nails dug into his skin. “You would be alone for a thousand years.”

“I did it once, I can survive it again,” he flipped his hand over, threading his fingers through hers. “I can make it through, as long as you’re both waiting here for me.”

“How were you planning on getting through those years, brother?” Finn cocked an eyebrow. “Elena had to put herself to sleep, but those spells won’t last more than twenty years – fifty if you’re lucky.”

“I’ll take a dagger…”

“The daggers that don’t work?” Klaus cocked an eyebrow. His eyes were glued on Hope’s waving arm.

“I can make one work, Nik,” he snapped.

“No, you can’t,” Elena crossed her arms, “because that kind of magic takes two witches and a diamond, and I’m not helping you do this.”

“Very well,” his expression darkened as he turned towards Freya.

“Don’t look at me,” she held up her hands. “Elena has that diamond locked up tight, and I’m honestly more afraid of her than I am of you.”

“Darling?” He turned back to Elena.

“No!”

“Do you see a better solution? Somebody has to go.”

“It’s a thousand years Kol,” she glared, “anything could happen! The dagger might not work. You could be lost. There is white oak back there; you could be killed!”

“There’s no other way. Do you think I want to go?”

“You volunteered fast enough,” her heart hammered.

Klaus glanced up as their voices rose, escalating to a full blown fight with the occasional input from one of the onlookers. He could understand why Finn wasn’t volunteering to take Kol’s place since he had spent so long under a dagger already. Freya would be the next best choice, but then they were back in the sleeping spell boat. Elijah and Rebekah were remaining quiet, likely trying to think of some other solution, and he stared at his gurgling daughter who despite everything remained oblivious to the chaos around her.

“I’ll go.”

The quiet settled over the room as disbelieving eyes settled on him.

“D… did I hear that right?” Caroline’s eyes were round.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he sighed, “I said I’ll go. There is a dagger that works on me, so there will be no need for magical experimentation, and I’m fairly certain not one of my siblings will object.”

Nobody did. He tried not to let that chafe.

“I’ll go back and retrieve mother’s blood, along with Viking ash and the sacred soil, and then put myself under the effects of the dagger. Is that acceptable Elena?” He turned toward the doppelganger.

She slowly unfolded her arms and rubbed a spot below her naval. After a moment she pressed her lips together and cleared her throat.

“It’s still a thousand years,” she ran her tongue over her teeth. “Anything could happen in a thousand years, and how would we get you back here?”

“What if he didn’t go alone?” Caroline’s fingers drummed over the table.

Elena’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious?”

“Why not?” She shrugged. “I can make sure he stays out of trouble, and remains not lost. It’s a lot easier to account for two decades then ten centuries.”

“You’re willing to journey a thousand years into the past and spend those years avoiding anyone you know and carting around a coffin?” Disbelief flashed in Elijah’s eyes.

“What is with this family and coffins?” Elena groaned. “Can we step away from the freaking coffins? It’s morbid.”

“Do you have a better method for transporting a body quickly?” Klaus leaned back in his chair. “Believe me love, you get strange looks when you’re lugging around grey bodies.”

“Well, you would know,” she said the words with false cheer.

“I’m not crazy about the idea of carrying around a coffin,” Caroline interrupted before they could get going, “but Klaus has a point. There’s not really another method, ‘Lena.”

“It’s heavy, and awkward and morbid.” She scrubbed her hand over her face, bracing her elbows on the table. Her nail caught the chain of her necklace. “And you don’t know the language.”

“I could actually teach her that,” Klaus interjected, “provided we were sent far enough into the past.”

“It’s still a thousand years,” Elena shook her head, staring at the table before dragging her eyes up to Caroline. “You would be alone for a thousand years.”

“Were you alone?” Caroline countered. “You made friends and had a life, Elena. If you want my opinion I don’t think you were at risk of harming your present until you were born. I’ll be fine and bonus…” she grinned. “I’d come back physically stronger than everyone in this room, well…” her eyes flickered to Klaus, “almost everyone. Kind of wish I could get around that coffin bit though.”

“What if you could?” Elena bit her bottom lip.

++++

3 Weeks Later

Mystic Falls

++++

“Where is it?” He muttered again and again under his breath, agitation growing with each passing second.

He tore through trunk after trunk. Scattered clothes and mementos from decades gone by. Shook every book on the shelf and flipped through each of his journals.

“Where is it?” He rifled through the contents of his desk.

“Where is it?” He flipped the mattress.

Smoke wafted up, over his balcony and through the door. He paused in the middle of kicking the bed post, spinning towards the open air and running to lean over the railing.

“What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” Damon’s face twisted. He took a long pull from the bottle of bourbon in his hand and gestured toward his little brother with a rectangle in his other hand. “What are you doing? It sounds like you’re tearing the house apart.”

“I’m looking for something,” he rolled his eyes. “Why are you burning silk?”

“It’s Katherine’s old dress,” Damon smirked tightly. “I’m getting rid of anything and everything that reminds me of Katherine Pierce and Elena Gilbert.”

“What did Elena ever do to you?” He could feel a headache coming on.

“Honestly, nothing,” Damon shrugged, “I’m just thinking it will be much better for my health if I’m not obsessed with her, and I don’t appear to be obsessed with her.”

“That’s an oddly smart choice for you,” Stefan frowned.

“I know right,” he smirked. “Just about to get rid of the last of it,” he lifted the thin object.

Stefan’s eyes widened, horror filling him from head to toe.

“Don’t,” he shouted, holding out his hand.

Damon froze with Katherine’s picture held over the fire, dangerously close to the flames. He looked from Stefan to the tintype and back.

“Don’t tell me you’ve still got a flame for Katherine,” Damon snickered. “Flame…” he laughed, waving the picture over the fire, “… get it.”

“Damon,” Stefan held out his hand. “It is very important that you move the tintype away from the fire right now.”

“This kind of behaviour’s not healthy, brother,” Damon smiled, warmed from the inside by the liquor.

“Damon,” Stefan groaned. “You are drunk, and not thinking straight.” He took a deep breath and slowly jumped over the rail, bending his knees to absorb the impact. “Give me the tintype,” he held out his hand, palm up.

“Why?” Damon frowned, leaning back on his heels.

“Because,” Stefan approached slowly, “twenty years ago I put a false back on it. There is something very important behind Katherine’s picture. Give me that and then you can burn the rest.”

Damon watched his brother for a moment and then abruptly pulled his arm to his body. He put his half empty bottle on the grass and opened the casing around the picture. Then he pried up the photograph from the false back, glancing up at Stefan as he did so. Inside he found a leather book just a little smaller than the picture, and so thin it couldn’t have held more than a page or two.

“You were tearing your room apart for this?” Damon held the book between his thumb and forefinger, tipping it back and forth over the fire for a good look. “What’s so special about it?”

“It’s a really long story,” Stefan beckoned with his fingers, “involving Caroline Forbes and Sheila Bennett.”

“Blondie?” Damon’s eyes shifted. “Isn’t she stuck in New Orleans with Elena?” He passed the book to Stefan.

“No,” he visibly relaxed with the leather in his hand. Flipping it open he sighed when he saw the pages. “She’s right here.”

Damon reclaimed his bourbon and took a healthy swig on the short walk to his brother’s side. His blue eyes clouded when he looked down into the book at the twin portraits. Caroline Forbes in high-waist jean shorts and a leather jacket stared back at him; mirroring her picture on the right was Klaus freaking Mikaelson with slightly longer curls that tumbled over his forehead and clothes straight out of a renaissance fair.

“What the heck is this?”

“Something Elena needs,” Stefan sighed.

“So this is actually them?” Damon spoke slowly, pointing to the pictures. “Elena did her freaky little witchy thing?”

“Yes.”

“I could have burned Klaus Mikaelson alive?” His eyes sparkled.

“Yes.”

“Can I still burn him alive?”

“No.”

“Come on, Stef,” Damon slung his arm around Stefan’s shoulders. “It’ll be fun. We can take Caroline out first.”

“No,” he sighed.

“Aw, come on,” he pouted, “it’s not like it would kill him.”

“No, Damon,” Stefan rolled his eyes. “The stuff Elena needs is with Klaus,” he slapped the small book shut and slipped it into his pocket. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they planned it that way in case you got a hold of it.”

He shrugged off his brother’s arm, turned and took off for his car.

“Where you going?”

“New Orleans,” he glanced back over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”

“No thank you,” Damon shuddered. “I’d like to go at least a decade before running into a Mikaelson if I can help it.”

“Do I want to know what happened in New Orleans?” Stefan opened the car door.

“I got on the wrong end of a psychopath,” Damon shrugged. He dropped the portrait of Katherine in the flames and watched as the edges curled up. “Kol’s the jealous type.”

Stefan checked his pockets ensuring he had his phone and wallet before sliding into the car and turning over the ignition. He rolled down the window.

“At least you’re learning.”

“Mm,” Damon grinned. He pointed from the fire to the house. “Would burning anything Katherine ever touched be too much?”

“Considering that Katherine’s had her hands on everything in that house – including you – I’m going to say yes,” Stefan rolled his eyes. “Don’t burn our home Damon.”

He put the car in drive and peeled out of the yard, dialing Alaric as he went; he picked up on the fourth ring.

“Hey, it’s me. Can you do me a favor and come keep an eye on Damon? There is a small chance he might try to burn down the Boarding House.”

“Should I bother asking why?”

@elejah-wonderland @elejahforever @eternityunicorn @morsmornte @fandomrulesall @xanderling @cry-btch @kol-and-elena-fanfiction @geekofmanyfandoms @xxbeckybeexx-blog

#Kolena #The Forgotten Fanfic #kol mikaelson #elena gilbert #caroline forbes #klaus mikaelson #hope mikaelson #hayley marshall #rebekah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #marcel gerard #thierry vanchure #davina claire #sage #finn mikaelson #freya mikaelson #damon salvatore #stefan salvatore

[spooner-the-trinity]

How Infinity Train pulled from Infinity War’s Playbook for Doctor Who’s final curtain

Funding for Shaffrilas is provided by: Skillshare, the sponsor of today’s video. Stay tuned for a train ride to discountkosh at the end of the video.

O hai, Tetsuya Nomura. That’s a nice hole you’re digging with your Kingdom Hearts, what do you wanna do with it? Keep digging? Why thou? O for a production company? That’s great, whacha gonna do with it? Name and develop the town the Toy Story flicks take place in? Yeah, alright. Add the goofy jock from Glee as a best friend for Andy that the Triceratops assumes is just a Dinosaur Toy down the street? What a funny joke idea! Nix the final playtime they’ve hoped to cap off the film with and save it for a later project? A tad disappointing, but alright. Make Sora a vessel for Xehanort? Whoa, that sounds hella har- A sexy Genie of the Rose who grants a wish for every petal on that collar-mounted rose of hers? Unique concept, but I smell some Hans Christian Anderson shi- The genie’s life force is bound to the Rose so she croaks when the last petal falls ala Beauty and the Beast? And there it is, Color me unsurpri- The Genie finds Andy and drags him into a sex scene to the tune of Aladdin’s Friend Like Me? I don’t think the parents would be okay with their kids watchi- Toonami’s airing this show? Wait, isn’t it on a competing networ- Lewis from Meet the Robinsons is Deleted by DOR-15 Ala the Nanobots from Jimmy Neutron? Mister Enter would be insulted on how you did his favorite Disney flick dirty like thi- Andy is shot into a wormhole and is mutated into a photosensitive Beast? Guys, It’s starting to look like a bad ide- The Genie is an aged-up Bonnie and she’s pregnant with Shantae!? Get me off this crazy tr-

Infinity Train Productions is one of the boldest associates Disney has in its corner right now, from wrestling away ownership of three Gainax originals to collaborating with competing animation company Dreamworks, the IT guys are pretty renowned for their kooky crossovers and kookier cinematic universe. And they’ve made sure to make their acquired goods count towards that universe instead of burn it to the ground LUCASFILM. Starting off by stating this is a universe where Second Impact prevented the assassination of JFK by means of tanging up 13% of the world’s population and weaved a few stitches of train tracks across the globe, naturally the space race escalates exponentially and they begin to develop new technologies and elect Walt Disney himself to be the President of the United States with Nixon as his running mate. That alone resulted in a Sequel Show to Brigadoon where a 24-year-old Marin Asagi boards the Challenger and ends up cast into the future with Melan, a retelling of the first arc of Gurren Lagann that featured Yui Ikari as a supporting character that saves Kamina from death, a twenty-six episode miniseries featuring Andy from the Toy Story gaining a magical genie bound to an enchanted rose, and that’s just the first half of its initial decade. I could go on about its repertoire of shows both original and acquired: Twelve Forever, Evangelion, both Arcadia trilogies with the elder of the two being started by the aformentioned show with that genie of the rose titled, erm… Genie of the Rose, but the one I’m aiming my sights on is the latest acquisition, one that they made in secret. Doctor Who and how they pulled from the playbook of Infinity War to bring the story to its last stop. 

Now, quick recap on how Infinity War makes a powerfully heartfelt mass market appeal joyride out of a thoroughly depressing story about failure. Where most Marvel Villains are merely obstacles for the characters to overcome, Thanos acts and reacts as a real person. Where most conflict have certain factors that tip the scales in the favor of who’s tipping them, the conflict is one where either side could come out victorious, where the Comedy of the Last Farcebender ended with the good guys laughing off their failure, Infinity War ended with a content smile from Thanos and our heroes dead silent save for a minor peep of: “Oh, god.” Where the bad decisions in Farcebender are made from genuine stupidity, Infinity War’s stem from worrying whether or not certain sacrifices are worth it. With that crash course out of the way, let’s dig in.

First thing’s first, is the villain a compelling character? Well, although Sacha Dhawan has the same unhinged energy expected out of any incarnation of longtime enemy, the Master, complete with moments of geniuine affection to his former best beff, he’s ultimately not the main baddie of this piece, that honor goes to Alrick. Believed to be dead after a dirtbike accident, it turns out that he had been picked up by the train and has spent a good three decades or so fucking with the systems to construct an empire starting with the crazy world of Elmore all the way to the Lanes Between and yes, he has shown himself to be a caring father figure to Grace and Simon throughout the second half of Cracked Reflections which leads into the episode, he’s concerned for his future as he’s clearly not as lively as he was when he first climbed aboard and even expresses hope for Jesse returning to the train after taking the exit and getting seperated from MT. And oh, look! He returns after the big moment, that’s nice. 

So yeah, compelling villain, that’s one tick. Is there equal opportunity for either side to win? Well, MT and early on Jesse before his aformentioned exit have the additional assistance of the Watterson family, Banana Joe, and seemingly Penny for a scene only to reveal her in a new shell complete with mind-control and reflective surface to sick the Po-Po on MT. But despite being the protagonist of his show of origin, she’s not the opposing side to Alrick this time around, it’s the wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey biatch herself and man, does it set up a curious comparison. Alrick is focusing his will into projecting his consciousness into the Doctor’s heart, an alien with countless eons worth of memories under her belt compared to Alrick’s measly sixtysomeodd laps around the sun. Not only that, but the Doctor is able to expel regeneration energy to fry the shit out of him if he feels the need to get a little messy. But with her locked up in the Time Lord Matrix which the Master has already skimmed through, there’s nowhere for the Doctor to run or even hide from Alrick. Throw in the Master’s ability to have his mind occupy two hearts at the same time whilst he’s chatting it up with the Lone Cyberman and the Doctor’s pretty pinned but still has a chance to outfox Alrick at the end of it all.

Bad decisions, the Doctor doesn’t trade lives so she keeps asking about the Timeless Child, what it’s supposed to be and why it drove the Master into absolutely butchering Galifrey after all the hard work each incarnation of the Doctor had. It turns out that this Timeless Child was a Pheonix Denizen created by Alrick to create a perfect world but One-One cast it out in hard-light beam form, striking Takeru and Ryou from This Ugly Yet Beautiful World from 2018. From the clipped wings came Hikari and Akari respectively whilst the main body crashed out of a wormhole into the sights of Tecteun who adopted the kid in time for a spaceship of highly-evolved snake people to crash land due to Kate and Leopold rules of time travel causing their machinery to get mucked up by Time Police in an episode of Rick and Morty of all shows, causing the child to fall to its doom and promptly regenerate, making her the first to do so in Galifreyan history. One of the survivors offers the gift of Time Travel in exchange for the power of Regeneration and Tecteun, scientist and explorer, jumps at the chance by means of tearing out the child’s soul for every three days that elapse. Obviously, she’s a fucking monster and she eventually does crack the code and test it on herself and the results allow the gift of time travel to bestowed upon the newly minted Timelords by Omega. Wow, all of this from a formally great show, (Doofenshmertz: what are the odds.) The Doctor is obviously unsurprised that Omega dangled the keys to time travel over the heads of the Shobagan race, but what horrifies her is that the very thing she and every other Time Lord we’ve seen had taken for granted was pilfered from a denizen that she learns after the life of abuse was created by some dude who hijacked some Train Car manufacturing equipment to build a perfect world. And it’s here where we see the main lynchpin of Alrick’s character: Perfection.

Those of you who’ve seen the whole series of Cracked Reflections will know that Alrick is an obsessive perfectionist first and foremost hence the plan to transform every Denizen of Elmore into full-blooded humans with leftover energy from this same Timeless Child. But not many of us recognize that this is only part of Alrick’s shtick. A simple man with complicated motives, a futurist in the trade of nostalgia, a conservative obsessed with progress, a gentle mentor with an impatient temper. These are just a handful of the ways to describe Walt Disney that were used by Ben Bouqulet, Mic Graves, and Owen Dennis to depict Alrick over the course of the last two seasons of Gumball leading into Cracked Reflections and Garrick Hagon truly gives his all portraying all the various shades of this man especially here when he is sharing his story of how he created a literal god only for One-One to cast it aside upon regaining control of the train from the very woman he spent the past 33 years building a perfect world for, a woman he cherishes like his older sister cherished his girlhood friend, a woman that even now still believes him to be ‘One-One: Gone forever?’ That is some next level tragic shit right there. 

Of course, the Doctor is still concerned for this child and it’s here where a familiar face crashes the party to let the cat out of the bag, Morbius from the Fourth Doctor Adventure Brain of Morbius outing himself as the infamous Timeless Child as well as harboring his disembodied heart in the Doctor after his ill-fated Mindbending Battle. This swerve may have served to provide added tension towards his motives, is he really wanting to go back to his home and views traveling with the Doctor as his only way there, or is he biding his time, waiting for his chance to overwhelm the Doctor when she’s not looking. As we see more of Morby’s checkered past in excruciating detail, slavery to the Division with everything down to his personality programmed and dictated into a mind-melded Morby by an enigmatic cult dubbed ‘The Master Writers’ An organization build solely and specifically for Infinity Train Productions to use in their portfolio of works. And when they were done with their enslaved progenetor, the Division in which they served lined him up for an execution from the Fugitive Doctor, during the 2nd Doctor’s orientation. Then they promptly merc poor Ruthie to regenerate her into the 3rd Doctor, closing the gap between Troughton and Pertwee. So yeah, The Division, they’re run by total assholes and Numero Dos only agrees to work there if his first assistant is longtime companion Jamie McCrimmon. But look at his face, does this look like the face of concent and tolerance to you? ‘Joe (Help, I’m a Fish!): Of course not!’ Props to Sam the Man with a Plan Troughton for filling his father’s shoes in this emotionally tense scene. And this ain’t the chilling twist that shocked the fandom. 

Alrick: “Whoever harbors the heart of the child is the child in of itself.“

Doctor: “Wot?”

Alrick: “It means that I will have my prize whether you like it or not!” (Punches through the Doctor’s Chest, crushes the Smash Ball within, causing the Doctor to turn into a pheonix before dissipating into Alrick’s body with the Smash Ball. Alrick’s Number skyrockets as his body regresses to his prime, the man laughing maniacally as the Timeless Child’s ultimate power rushes into him)

So yeah, Morby’s been reconstituting his powers over the centuries the Doctor had lived hence the golden energy during the later regenerations. How we find this out is by the titular character of the BBC’s last remaining reason towards that sweet TV Licence Money getting outright merced by Alrick in front of a guy that deep down still admires his childhood friend. This closes out An Untimely Caviat, the final episode in Doctor Who’s revived series, and leads us right into the finale of Cracked Reflection where he goes full on Disney Villain. Mercing the Master to make him a conduit to gijinkafy the entirety of Elmore, Co-Opting his Cybermaster drones as a mechanical army, ludiccrous speed incubating a pocket-dimension frog to house the Train Cars his empire had conquered via that same energy he channeled through the aformentioned Master, yeah, this does not sound like the man Amelia planned to marry if not had already married outright. Well, that’s the point. He’s drunk with power, it’s more likely that this is his ambition talking. No doubt he’s relishing in his own arrogance much to Marnie’s horror. Oh, yeah, Old Marnie’s doing her astral projection thing to react to her younger brother’s madness and watches on as MT gets roughed up by Super Alrick in front of an audience of his adopted children.

Of course, MT does find some santuary in the Number Car and re-unites with Jesse, resulting in the now sempailess Agent Sieve phasing through the glass screen whilst the train is figuring out how to solve Jesse’s seemingly unsolvable problem of getting a denizen off the train. But that just gives the Fleck some time to witness the madness of this rumored Apex fella as he ankleholds MT and gijinkafies Gumball and Darwin to demonstrate his final offer, her response is to break out a Denizen Ex Machina by prompting Alan Dracula to slice the monkeyfigher in half, causing him to regenerate into a pair of innocent, mindless little babies that will never bother anyone ever again… The Crown grieve for their master, Sieve calls off the manhunt for the rouge slither, the companions go their seperate ways with Graham staying on Earth to deliver the bad news the two youngest raising the two babies up to the Doctor’s standard… or at least one of them due to Yaz getting arrested by a Judoon Platoon before she could legally adopt Zarc. The expression of the companions are grim, and rightfully so, the one guy-or-gal that has kept the 21st century from falling into tyranny is no longer around to do the job they enjoyed doing whenever there was a sitch to see through. But after the wide shot of Yaz getting locked up in Shada we cut to MT, off the train and safe with Jesse in Arizona. Jesse’s brother Nate comes up to find his older brother with the very Chrome Girl he met on a magical train, Nate asks for the girl’s name and her answer?

Jesse: Dracula 2?

MT: (looks to the Lake, concerned that the Flecks would come after her but eases up when its clear that there are no Flecks coming.) I’m Lake.

We get a nice little callback to close out the series as the song Kibō plays in the credits, indicating that Hope is still out there in the cosmos, Doctor or No Doctor. And that is a powerful message to send to the audience and I have a pretty good feeling that whether or not the Doctor ends up getting revived in Kingdom Hearts III alongside all the absent heroes that Infinity Train productions had raked in over the years doesn’t quite matter, the studio does not need Doctor Who and its universe does not need the Doctor. And I have a pretty good feeling that the Doc may end up giving up their ticket back into the land of the living, leaving the universe to all the other champions of the cosmos that Toonami has flaunted over the decades. The Doctor has overcome many frightening, haunting, tyrannical, violent and downright Orwellian things in life and man, oh, man have we got a whole plate of them to overcome even now. Would I go back to this expansive world for further analysis, sure, if the views get gud. But the impact of the Doctor’s Death is a pretty big deal that actually caught a bunch of us by surprise despite the minor hints scattered throughout. (One-One: All aboard for emotional maturation on the finest freighter in all of Trenzalore) The Destiny of the Doctor News heard around the world, and the outpour of memories and grief rivalling even Mr. Peanut but unlike the legendary legume, our favorite timelord will probably be gone for a lot longer than just a couple of weeks and the time it takes will show how deep the rabbit hole goes. It will also show who’s willing to step up and find ways to make a difference in the lives of others, and they’re going to need to learn a thing or two to do so. (Cletus from the Simpsons Movie with the Skillshare Logo slapped onto his face in post: My time to shine.)

#schaffrillas productions #Doctor Who #Infinity Train #The Amazing World of Gumball #Timeless Child #Alrick #submission

[andersunmenschlich]

Episode 15: Lost John’s Cave

Right. So here I have the statement of a Laura Popham, apparently regarding a series of caves she and her (now deceased) sister were exploring in 2014.

Having grown up in the mountains, I’ve been in a few caves.

It’s funny, really—thinking about it purely objectively, I’d expect it to bother me. All that stone and earth above and around you, and you in this tiny hollow beneath, surrounded by all the weight of it... shouldn’t you be worried about structural integrity? Yet I never have been.

Deep underground, lying curled up in little rooms too small to allow standing, surrounded by absolute darkness without a single spark of light, I’ve always felt... safe. At home, almost.

I am guessing, however, that this cave is not safe.

Laura Popham, unlike me, does proper caving. She uses expensive equipment and explores places underground you need equipment to get to.

Her sister, Elena Sanderson (no relation to Brandon, I’m sure), likes the rock climbing aspect of caving more than the going deep underground bit. Laura’s tastes would seem to be the reverse of Elena’s. Laura likes going deep underground—deeper than her sister is entirely comfortable with—and she doesn’t mind the scratches, scrapes, and bruises you get working your way through tight places under the earth.

Elena, Laura says, would probably have preferred cliffs to caves.

Why Elena didn’t insist on doing what she knew she’d like better, I don’t know. It’s one thing to go along when you have no preferences of your own. I do this often, because I have very few preferences. But if you care about yourself at all, shouldn’t you go with your own preferences when you have them?

Perhaps I only think this way because I have preferences of my own so rarely; I can afford to indulge them. In any case, Laura and Elena averaged a cave a year, and never signed up for a gym or some such thing instead.

On their final caving expedition, they were taking a route through the Three Counties system that required diving.

Elena, in precise opposition to my own feelings on the matter, told her sister that “the prospect spooked her less than some of the squeezes we’d had to do to get there.”

I don’t much care for the water.

This may seem strange, since I’m a decent swimmer—have been for as long as I can remember—and spent a fair amount of my childhood in lakes and pools. I have no truly traumatic memories of the water, and in fact preferred to spend most of my time swimming below the water, only coming up when it was absolutely necessary. I’ve been known to eat things underwater in preference to snacking at the poolside with everyone else.

Understand me: it’s a discomfort, not a fear. I just don’t like water very much unless it’s purified, cold, and I’m drinking it.

I sense your confusion. “But, Anders,” you want to ask, “how could you prefer being underwater to being above it if you don’t like the water?” And the answer is simple:

Being underwater muffles sound. All the noise of the people who dragged me to this piece of swimming fun is softened. Being underwater also seems to tone down the sunlight a little. My sensitivity to light has grown with each exposure—it wasn’t as bad as it is now when I was a child, but it was still bad enough to drive me as deep under the water as I could go. If I had to be at the lake with my family, or at the pool with their friends, out of doors during the day and surrounded by sound, at least I could dive deep and escape.

It wasn’t that I liked the water. It was that I preferred it to people, to sunlight and socialization.

Being underwater feels dangerous.

Being underwater underground feels doubly dangerous. Out of doors, perhaps you won’t make it to the surface in time—underground, perhaps there won’t be a surface. No, I would much prefer a tight squeeze to a cave dive, and so I don’t understand Elena’s feelings at all.

Laura and Elena took the standard caving precautions, getting a permit from the Council of Northern Caving Clubs and making sure someone (Laura’s husband Alistair, in this case) knew exactly where they were headed and when.

They were taking a previously explored route, and Laura studied the maps thoroughly.

“...what I used to love about caving was the feeling of being deep inside the earth: the cold, solid walls folding in around me. It always used to feel like they were keeping me safe,” Laura says, and this feeling I understand entirely, though I remember all the caves I ever explored being warm... possibly because everything is hot when you live in a desert in the mountains, and so even the tunnels below the earth feel warm, at least for the first mile or so.

Laura Popham and her sister arrive at their chosen cave on a Saturday made perfect, in my estimation, not merely by the lack of dangerous rainfall, but also by the lack of other cavers. 

The entrance to the cave is called Death’s Head Hole, because of course it is.

Death’s Head Hole, as Laura Popham describes it, is a hole barely larger than a person, almost covered in wild plants and bracken, with resin anchors at its mouth. She and her sister hook their ropes to the anchors and descend “without incident, despite a few unexpected twists in the pothole”—and I find myself wondering whether they’ve really entered the hole they think they have.

It’s almost noon when they go down, and the brightness of the light and its position overhead means they don’t turn on their headlamps for some time. Eventually they reach the bottom of the hole, where there’s a gentle underground stream and no daylight at all.

They follow the stream, and Laura notes that the waterproof case she bought makes the map a bit more difficult to read sometimes, which I suspect is an important note.

Then she takes a moment for a little ritual.

“There was something I always did when I first entered a cave, and that was to take a moment to turn off all the lights, and place both my hands upon the cold, earthen walls. I remember once, when I was a child, we went on a school trip to White Scar Cave up in Yorkshire. It was a lovely, safe, accessible cave and was absolutely beautiful, which I suppose is why it was popular for such trips.

“After we’d been down there for a few minutes, the guide led us much deeper, and told us to stand very quietly. She turned off the lights, to show us children what true darkness is like. I’d never seen anything like it. It was such a pure black, so encompassing, and in the warmth of the underground I found myself full of a joy I’ve never forgotten. Even among a class of thirty schoolchildren, I felt like the only presence that mattered was the cave. Ever since then, I would always take a moment on any potholing trip to do the same, and feel again that utter darkness, with no sound but the gently flowing river and my own breathing.”

This is another thing I understand almost entirely.

The bit I don’t understand is the idea of presence. There is not, in my experience, any presence to a cave. It’s a cave. It’s present, yes, but only as objects are present. I don’t object to objects. Wordplay aside, i only get a feeling of presence, as such, from living things: humans, dogs, cats, spiders, fish, other animals like that.

Laura doesn’t think her sister gets anything out of the practice, though. I find that interesting. You’d think there would be something!

Laura Popham is having trouble following her map.

“I’m quite experienced in these things, but even I find it hard sometimes to match the irregular lines and angles of the underground passages to the often abstract shapes written into the map,” she says.

“There were several junctions that were significantly smaller than the map would seem to show, and the point of entry into Lost John’s Cave was what we would call a squeeze. It wasn’t on the map, but it seemed to be the only way through,” she says. Yes... I do believe she isn’t in the cave she thinks she’s in, and now I wonder about that pre-descent isolation. I know how unlikely it is to go to a good place for an activity on a good day for that activity during a time when most humans aren’t asleep, and somehow still find yourself alone!

The squeeze is a very tight one.

Hmm. I’ve never been in a squeeze that makes it difficult for me to breathe. Mind you, ever since I was whisked off to have my lungs pumped at birth, I’ve been a sickly, scrawny, skinny soul, eternally undersized; it would be difficult to find a squeeze in any commonly frequented cave that would compress me that tightly. If I found myself in a passage that small, I’d know immediately that I was in the wrong cave.

Laura and Elena don’t have my advantages, it would seem. It doesn’t occur to them that the squeeze is too tight to be part of a well-explored, thoroughly-charted route.

They’re probably aided in this continued lack of realization by the fact that whatever this cave is that they’re in, it seems to be mostly mimicking the cave they expect. Hm. Perhaps it is the cave they expect... but that presence mentioned earlier is a real thing. A living cave, I think, would move.

Laura and her sister take a bit of a break.

Elena, it turns out, spent her time researching the history of the cave (while Laura was looking at maps).

Despite the positioning of the apostrophe on the actual title of the episode, Elena Sanderson says it’s supposed to be Lost Johns’ Cave—plural—not Lost John’s Cave, singular. Two men named John, it seems, were lost in the cave together. The first to explore this particular cave, they never came back out. Elena considers this story “quite sweet, in a strange sort of way,” and jokes that if she ever got lost underground she’d want it to be with her sister.

I’m not at all sure why that would make it better.

Laura Popham is apparently equally unsure, though for somewhat different reasons to mine: “to be lost beneath the earth is such an intensely private thing.” Uh... is it really? Why that specifically?

I admit that I have a very poor grasp on what is and isn’t generally considered private.

This isn’t just because for as long as I can remember I’ve had people corner me in public places and tell me about their fights with their parents, or what they claim are their deepest fears and desires (though that certainly can’t help). No, I’m assisted in this confusion by the very nature of the first language I ever learned to speak, in which “privates” are things no one must see but everyone must know about... and by the nature of an upbringing in which it’s simply taken for granted that everything is seen and known by a Power that never stops watching, never looks away, never fails to observe even the tiniest detail.

If every hair on your head is numbered and known, what’s privacy? If everyone you meet, even total strangers, address you by a term tied to the shape of your genitals, what could possibly be private? What information, what experience can ever be yours and yours alone in a world where God watches ceaselessly and sees everything?

“Private.”

It’s a concept that I don’t really understand, at least so far as information’s concerned. There are some things no one but you should ever see? Why, if they don’t, won’t, or can’t use the information to harm you?

Baffling.

Laura Popham wouldn’t want her sister with her if she were lost underground because she considers an experience like that an intensely private one. I wouldn’t want anyone with me if I were lost underground because I never want anyone with me. I’ve been raised to feel watched enough, and while I don’t object to simple observation, I don’t want to have to interact.

...Which, I suppose, would make me a decent stripper if it weren’t for all the noise....

In any case, Laura and Elena carry on with the descent, moving so easily through a part of the cave experienced cavers told Laura was the most difficult that she actually felt as though they were being swallowed. My living cave hypothesis is looking more likely all the time.

Now they’ve made it to the cave dive.

Elena goes first, “saying something or other about conquering fears.” I understand this. It’s the reason for the poorly-done tattoo on my left hand; I refuse to be afraid of needles.

Elena dives, and as Laura stands waiting for her sister to clear the passage for the next dive, she begins to feel uneasy.

“It was as silent as it had ever been,” she says, “but there was something else there, beneath the silence... almost like a whisper.” Well, this I can’t say I’m unfamiliar with. In total silence and darkness I think the mind plays tricks. I’ve heard whispers in the dark ever since I was a child—yes, and felt those soft, silken touches and seen the movement of apparently living shadow, too.

There is very little more soothing than sitting in the back of a closet at night and letting the shadows coil around you, stroking your skin and hair while soft murmurs seem to tease the very edge of hearing.

Sure, you’re being watched (you’re always being watched), but here it feels as though you’re being watched by something that’s a part of yourself, something you could flow into and become because, in some way, it’s what you already are. It’s always a sorrow when the sun rises and its light slips under the door to steal the darkness from you.

In this case, though, I suspect the almost-whispers aren’t our statement-giver’s imagination.

Laura Popham follows her sister into the water. And yes... as expected, she can’t surface. She swims and swims and swims, and there’s never anything above her but water and stone. She swims farther and farther, and there’s never an up to make it to.

...Until, at last, there is, and we see that Elena’s been holding a rock over her sister’s head, blocking her whenever she tries to surface.

Ha. Seems like the sort of thing I would do.

Exhausted by the release of adrenaline and fear, the two sit in silence for a while, recovering. It’s taken them longer than they expected to get this far, and Laura thinks it might take less time to go back than to go on. They would have to dive again to go on, anyway, and the second dive would be much longer than the first. Laura suggests going back, and Elena agrees. Laura turns away, and unless I’m much mistaken, the cave speaks!

“...asked me how lost I was in a low, grating voice.”

Well, well, well.

Laura Popham, despite the strangeness of the voice, doesn’t even consider the possibility that anyone besides the other human in the cave could have produced it. She snaps at her sister that they’re not lost. Elena is confused. Yes, it was definitely the cave speaking; and it doesn’t seem Elena heard it!

Laura goes first on the way back. “I was eager to get back and be aboveground in a way that I had never been before.”

This time it’s not her sister putting rock above her head.

She can’t surface. She swims on and on, becoming increasingly panicked, and nearly screams with relief when, finally, she reaches air. But it’s the wrong place. This isn’t where they started from. It isn’t even a cave—just a tunnel, smaller than the water-filled one it touches below. Laura climbs into it, freeing the space behind her for Elena to come up, and waits. She wants to conference with her sister, for the two of them to put their heads together and figure out what went wrong, or at least where to go from there.

The tunnel’s too tight to allow her to turn, so she listens for the sound of her sister surfacing... and doesn’t hear it. She waits and waits, unable even to check the time, and her sister doesn’t come up.

Laura Popham moves forward.

“I must have taken a wrong turn, except that didn’t make sense. I hadn’t turned at all, and more than that, there weren’t any turns or junctions in this part of the cave. I had checked all the maps of this area over and over, and they all put it as a straight line. ... I decided to go on, press forward until I at least found somewhere wide enough that I could turn.”

The tunnel is very narrow. Jagged rocks tear her clothes and scrape at her skin. She forces her way on and on, and the tunnel becomes narrower and narrower. Finally she can’t move ahead anymore. The passage is too small. But when she tries to move backwards....

“I started to shuffle backwards, and my feet touched against solid rock. The tunnel was gone. It was then that I screamed. And my light went out.”

Mmm. I think that... is... mm. It’s beautiful. It’s simply too beautiful for words.

“I said earlier that I enjoyed the pure dark of the cave. I was wrong. I had never truly known a darkness like this. Unable to move, barely with breathing space enough to cry for help. Even as I lay there it felt as though the walls pressed me further, and I knew that the stone I had always believed to be my friend and protector was going to entomb me here.”

Well, there’s your mistake. ‘Friend’? ‘Protector’? These things aren’t as solid as they sound, you know. There’s no one who’s always your friend, nothing that will always protect you, at all times, under all circumstances.

“Изменяется даже бог; мир исполнен сплошных измен.”

Laura Popham sees a light, like a candle flame. It comes closer slowly, and she’s afraid of it. She says she knows somehow that it’s “of this place;” that it means her harm. As it approaches, she sees a pale hand holding it, and hears her sister calling out for her—calling out for help, far off and faint.

That’s fascinating. I’m reminded of the Johns, who apparently explored this cave so long ago they used candles rather than flashlights.

Our statement-giver closes her eyes against the candlelight and tries desperately to “will it all away.” Oh, yes: pretend it isn’t happening and then, surely, it won’t be! I didn’t expect this to work at all, yet apparently it did. Baffling. When Laura Popham opens her eyes, she sees the light is no longer a candle. It’s daylight, and it seems as though she’s been climbing all this time. She keeps climbing, clothes ragged and torn, skin scraped and bloody, and after maybe an hour she finally reaches the surface “through a small opening not on any of the maps.”

And she uses her first free breath to scream. Of course she does.

She screams long and loud, until her husband and the cave rescue team he called out find her. She and Elena had been underground almost a full day. Elena, of course, never comes out... and Laura swears she’s never going back underground again.

Oh, isn’t this interesting! Our head archivist says, “I have rarely come across a statement written with such conviction, yet where so many of the details are provably false.”

Laura and Elena didn’t have a permit for Death’s Head Hole that day.

A lot of other people did, though.

If they went into Death’s Head Hole—if they were ever anywhere near Lost John’s Cave—the caves themselves would’ve had to change to match Laura Popham’s account. And Laura Popham... Laura Popham wasn’t found aboveground. No. She was a few yards from the bottom of Death’s Head Hole, kneeling next to a pile of burned out candles (which her husband certainly didn’t see her packing), and she didn’t respond to anyone or anything until they got her into the open air.

And she had a camera. Didn’t mention that at all, did she? Mr. Sims plays us a bit of the tape (which Incredibly Competent Research Assistant Tim managed to get a copy of somehow), and it certainly sounds worrying.

Apparently there’s nothing but audio in this particular recording, which begins at just past 2 am the day after they started, and carries on for nearly three hours.

It just says “Take her, not me” over and over again, in a kind of weepy half-whisper—and there are sort of rocky sounds in the background, like someone moving around a stone tunnel, plus the trickle of running water. So that’s, what, twenty-one hours of normal cave climbing, then three of... this whatever-it-is?

Interesting.

As a side note, assistant Martin “declined to help with this investigation, as he’s a bit claustrophobic.” Strange that Mr. Sims seems to accept this.

I mean, it’s not as though asking people about a disappearance in a cave means you have to go into the cave, is it? And Jonathan Sims has, up to this point, always seemed to seize on the tiniest little thing—anything that gave him an excuse to disparage Martin (who really does not seem less competent than any other research assistant so far as I can tell). Yet he seems to consider “I’m a bit claustrophobic” a valid reason to avoid researching a disappearance in a cave.

Peculiar.

Well, whatever the case, Mr. Sims says it’s been two years since Elena Sanderson vanished, which I suppose puts us in June 2016. That would mean rather a lot of time had passed since episode 13, though....

Something I’m more interested in knowing at the moment, however, is why Mr. Sims decided not to ask Laura Popham about the recording. It seems like they ought to be able to get an interesting reaction, at the very least! Why would he not want more information? Why not confront her with the recording and see what memories it does or doesn’t trigger?

Jonathan Sims, I don’t understand you at all.

#The Magnus Archives #episode 15 #commentary #late to the party

[insanityclause]

Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

A Director Making His Mark in More Ways Than One

LONDON — The director Jamie Lloyd was giving me a tour of his tattoos. Not the Pegasus on his chest or the skeleton astronaut floating on his back, though he gamely described those, but the onyx-inked adornments that cover his arms and hands, that wreathe his neck, that wrap around his shaved head.

When I asked about the dragon at his throat, he told me it had been “one of the ones that hurt the least,” then pointed to the flame-licked skulls on either side of his neck: his “covert way,” he said, of representing drama’s traditional emblems for comedy and tragedy.

“I thought maybe it’d be a little bit tacky to have theater masks on my neck,” he added, a laugh bubbling up, and it’s true: His dragon would have eaten them for lunch.

It was early December, and we were in a lounge beneath the Playhouse Theater, where Lloyd’s West End production of “Cyrano de Bergerac,” starring James McAvoy in a skintight puffer jacket and his own regular-size nose, would soon open to packed houses and critical praise.

Running through Feb. 29, and arriving on cinema screens Feb. 20 in a National Theater Live broadcast, “Cyrano” — newly adapted by Martin Crimp, and positing its hero as a scrappy spoken-word wonder — capped a year that saw Lloyd celebrated on both sides of the Atlantic.

In London last summer, his outdoor hit “Evita” traded conventional glamour for sexy grit, while his radical reinterpretation of Harold Pinter’s “Betrayal,” starring Tom Hiddleston, was hailed first in the West End, then on Broadway. Ben Brantley, reviewing “Betrayal” in The New York Times, called it “one of those rare shows I seem destined to think about forever.”

When Time Out London ranked the best theater of 2019, it gave the top spot jointly to all three Lloyd productions, saying that he “has had a year that some of his peers might trade their entire careers for.”

Lloyd, who is 39, did not spring from the same mold as many of those peers. There was for him, he says, no youthful aha moment of watching Derek Jacobi onstage and divining that directing was his path. Epiphanies like that belonged to other kids, the ones who could afford the tickets.

If there is a standard background for a London theater director — and Lloyd would argue that certainly there used to be — that isn’t where he came from, growing up working class on the south coast of England, in Margaret Thatcher’s Britain.

The first time I laid eyes on him, chatting in the Playhouse lobby after a preview of “Cyrano,” he was the picture of working-class flair — the gold pirate hoops, the pink and black T-shirt, the belt cinching high-waisted pants.

He looks nothing like your typical West End director. Which of course is precisely the point.

What’s underneath

“It’s quite often said of him,” McAvoy observed by phone, once the reviews were in, “that he strips things away or he tries to take classical works and turn them on their head. I think he’s always just trying to tell the story in the clearest and most exhilarating way possible.”

The “X-Men” star, who put the number of times he’s worked with Lloyd in the past decade at a “gazillion,” calls theirs “probably one of the most defining relationships that I’ve had in my career.”

Yet Lloyd himself is on board with the notion that his assertively contemporary stagings pare back stifling layers of performance history to lay bare what’s underneath.

Like the tiger and dragons that he had emblazoned on his head just last May, though, the unembellished nature of his shows — as minimalist in their way as his tattoos are the opposite — is a relatively recent development.

Lloyd’s first “Cyrano de Bergerac,” starring Douglas Hodge in 2012, was also his Broadway debut. It was, he said, “absolutely the ‘Cyrano’ that you would expect,” with the fake nose, the hat, the plume, the sword-fighting.

There is, granted, sword-fighting in the new one — but the audience has to imagine the swords.

Lloyd’s productions, including a lauded revival of Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine’s “Passion” in 2010, long marked him as a hot young director on the rise. But he sees in some of his previous work a noisy tendency toward idea overload.

The pivot point came in 2018, with a season that the Jamie Lloyd Company — which he formed seven years ago with the commercial producing powerhouse Ambassador Theater Group — devoted to the short works of Harold Pinter. The playwright’s distillation of language forced Lloyd to match it with his staging.

That immersion led to what the director Michael Grandage — one of Lloyd’s early champions, who tapped him at 27 to be his associate director at the Donmar Warehouse — called Lloyd’s “absolute masterpiece.”

“I had quite a lot of ambition to do a production of ‘Betrayal’ in my life,” Grandage said. “And then when I saw Jamie’s, I thought, ‘Right, that’s it. I don’t ever, ever want to direct this play.’ Because that’s, for me, the perfect production.”

Playing dress-up

Charm is a ready currency in the theater, but Lloyd’s is disarming; he seems simply to be being himself, without veneer. Like when I fact-checked something I’d read by asking whether he was a vegan.

“Lapsed vegan,” he confessed immediately, with a tinge of guilt about eating eggs again.

Pay no attention to any tough-guy vibe in photos of him; do not be alarmed by the sharp-toothed cat on the back of his head. In conversation, Lloyd comes across as thoughtful and unassuming, with an animated humor that makes him fun company. If he speaks at the speed of someone with no time to waste, he balances that with focused attentiveness.

His father, Ray, was a truck driver. His mother, Joy (whose name is tattooed on his right forearm, near the elbow), cleaned houses, took in ironing and ran a costume-rental shop, where young Jamie would sneak in to dress up as the children’s cartoon character Rainbow Brite.

“It’s very embarrassing,” he said, squelching a laugh.

Seeing professional theater wasn’t an option then for Lloyd, whose grown-up passion for expanding audience access — one of the things he has made himself known for in the West End — grew out of that exclusion. His company has set aside 15,000 free and 15,000 £15 tickets for its current, characteristically starry three-show season, which will also include Emilia Clarke in “The Seagull” and Jessica Chastain in “A Doll’s House.” At the 786-seat Playhouse, that adds up to just over 38 full houses.

Lloyd, who was studying acting at the Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts when he decided he wanted to direct, found his way to theater as a child by acting in school shows and local amateur productions. Twice he was cast as a monkey; in “The Wizard of Oz,” thrillingly, he got to fly.

The details of his early days have always been colorful — like having a clown as his first stepfather, who performed at children’s parties under the stage name Uncle Funny. But Lloyd is quick to acknowledge the darkness lurking there.

“It sounds a little bit like some dodgy film, because he was actually a really violent man,” he said. “And there were times where he was very physically abusive to my mum. There was a sort of atmosphere of violence in that house that was really uneasy. And yet masked with this literal makeup, but also this sense of trying to entertain people whilst enacting terrible brutality behind the scenes.”

This is where he locates his own connection to Pinter’s work.

“A lot of that is that the violence is beneath the surface,” he said. “And on the top there is this sort of, what I call a kind of topspin, a layer of cover-up.”

Long relationships

Lloyd was still at drama school when he staged a production of Lapine and William Finn’s “Falsettoland” that won a prize: assistant directing a show at the Bush Theater in London. Based on that, Trevor Nunn hired him, at 22, to be his assistant director on “Anything Goes” in the West End — a job he did so well that Grandage got word of it and hired him to assist on “Guys and Dolls.” While Lloyd was doing that, he also began directing in his own right.

The costume and set designer Soutra Gilmour, who has been a constant with Lloyd since he cold-called her for his first professional production, Pinter’s “The Caretaker,” said theirs is an easy relationship, with a “symbiotic transference of ideas.” Even their creative aesthetics have evolved in sync.

“We’ve actually never fallen out in 13 years,” she said over mint tea on a trip to New York last month, just before “Betrayal” closed. “Never! I don’t even know how we would fall out.”

Of course, the one time she tried to decline a Lloyd project five years ago, because its tech rehearsals coincided with the due date for her son’s birth, he told her there was no one else he wanted to work with. So she did the show, warning that at some point she would have to leave. Now, she says, he understands that she won’t sit through endless evening previews, because she needs to go home to her child.

Lloyd and his wife, the actress Suzie Toase (whose name is tattooed on one of his arms), home-school their own three boys (whose names are tattooed on the other). Their eldest, 13-year-old Lewin, is an actor who recently played one of the principal characters, the heroine’s irresistible best friend, on the HBO and BBC One series “His Dark Materials,” whose cast boasts McAvoy as well.

Enter the child

Lloyd’s interpretation of “Betrayal,” a 1978 play that recounts a seven-year affair, imbued it with a distinctly non-’70s awareness of the fragility of family — the notion that children are the bystanders harmed when a marriage is tossed away.

Its gasp-inducing moment came with the entrance of a character Pinter wrote to be mentioned but not seen: the small daughter of the couple whose relationship is imperiled. In putting her onstage, Lloyd didn’t touch the text; it was a simple, wordless role. With it, he altered the resonance of the play.

To me, it seemed logical that Lloyd’s production would have been informed by his experience as a husband and father — and maybe also as a child in a splintering family. How old had he been, anyway, when his parents split up?

“Five,” Lloyd said. “The same age as the character would be.” He paused. “Oh God, yeah, fascinating. I’d not thought about that. Exactly the same age.”

If that fact was of more than intellectual interest to him, he didn’t let on. He volunteered a memory, though — of being a little one “amongst these kind of big giants, and I guess what we can now see as the mess of their lives.”

Blazer-free

Doing “Betrayal” in New York, Lloyd was struck by how eager Americans were to chat about his tattoos. Still, he told me after I texted him a follow-up question about them, he hadn’t expected his appearance to be such a talking point in this story.

It’s not just idle curiosity. It’s about what the tattoos signify in a field where, in Britain as in the United States, the top directors tend to have grown up very comfortably. It’s about who is welcome in a particular space, and who gets to be themselves there.

For a long time after Lloyd started working in the theater, he wore a blazer every day: a conscious attempt to conform in an industry where he felt a nagging sense of difference.

“Every other director at the time was from an Oxbridge background,” he said, “and looked and sounded a particular way. I spent a long time pretending to be like them.”

It was a performance of sorts, with a costume he donned for the role.

It was only about seven or eight years ago — around the time he left the Donmar and started putting together his own company — that he stopped worrying about what people might think if he looked the way he wanted.

“My dad had tattoos” was the first thing he said when I asked him about his own.

“I guess it’s partly getting older,” he mused, “but it’s just sort of going, ‘You can’t pretend to be someone. You’ve got to be who you really are, in every way.’”

The tattoos that have gradually transformed him are from a different aesthetic universe than his recent work onstage. Yet the impulse, somehow, is the same.

In shedding the blazer, in inking his skin, Lloyd has peeled back layers of imposed convention to show who’s underneath.

And should you spot him at the theater, where he is hard to miss, you’ll notice that he looks just like himself.

[rickbertrand1966]

To whom it may concern,

My name is Ricki Darren Bertrand. I was born February 27th, 1966 in the "Deep River Improvement District" of Deep River, Ontario. Shortly after, my family moved around before trying to settle in North Bay, Ontario. Being that the earliest memories I have start in North Bay, I will go from there.

I am the second youngest of seven First Nation children to my parents Joseph Albert Bertrand and Claire Bernadette Miller. For you to understand how bad it was for us would mean I would have to explore memories that I would rather not remember. As painful as the prospect seems, I've come to a point in my life where I know I must, in order to have the truth known. It is here where I should describe the conditions of the life I had with my family.

My parents, being alcoholics in the extreme form, are difficult for me to talk about...not just because of the pain associated...also the embarrassment. When I think of my family, the first thing to come to mind is how abnormal we were. Whereas other families function as a unit, ours was the opposite. The cycle was a pretty repetitive one. My parents would drink when they had money, then they would sell what they had to buy more. I can honestly say that in all my life, I've never seen a worse house. We had little...and what we did have was often of no use. The living conditions were horrible. I remember animal waste strewn about the house from all the cats we had as if it were normal. When my mother drank, she would leave to escape my father. She would often abandon us to go where, I can only guess. She was a quiet woman who had a quiet demeanour. I also remember knowing how sad she was. I believe she loved my dad...and also feared him. I witnessed her attempt suicide by threatening to jump off our roof. Now I understand this was more likely a cry for help or maybe attention, but to a 5 year old boy at the time, I remember crying so hard at all the confusion and screaming. It truly was horrible. I also remember having to ask people to go into the Belmont Hotel in North Bay to ask for my parents to come home because we were hungry. Sometimes they would...but mostly they wouldn't. I have yet to see a made for TV movie that comes close to how bad it was for us...for me.

I don't keep in touch with my siblings...but when I had heard my dad had passed, my younger sister Tracy told me I was his favourite. I find that difficult to believe because I remember a lot of drunken rage and physical abuse. I was beaten by him if I was around...so I learned not to be seen. Though this slowed the abuse...it didn't stop it. After coming into some money, my parents abandoned us. My father was known for taking the welfare money and going to Toronto for strip clubs and prostitutes. I can actually remember hearing him brag about it. He would often go with my uncle, my brother and my step brother. As for my mother, I've heard from my brother Dan that she was unfaithful as well...and the result was my half-sister. I once walked in on my brother Randy as he was sexually abusing my half sister, Tracy. When I immediately told my father, I was beaten for mentioning it.

My brother Randy in his own way was worse than my father. He would take great delight in beating me as well. Here is another part of my story that is so difficult for me to talk about...and this is the first time I've ever talked about this. Aside from beating me...Randy would also sexually abuse me. To say he was sick is an understatement. Once he took me by Greyhound to Toronto...and then abandoned me there. The C.A.S. in Toronto as well as the Toronto Police will verify this. After I was returned home, Randy was gone. He had been sent away into a group home somewhere and I didn't see him for years. I remember Randy would laugh about the abuse in front of my father. My own father did nothing. On this topic, I'm going to stop here.

I can't say everything about my dad was bad. When they had parties, it seemed to me that everyone really enjoyed his company. He had a quick joking humour that was playful when he was in a good mood. But the more intoxicated he would become, he would often go into a crying phase...after that was the blind rage. For me to convey to you the nature of my father, I can say this, often he would find amusement in throwing my sisters guinea pigs to our dog. He would watch...bellowing laughter that could sometimes seem friendly and at others seem so sadistic.

As it turned out, my father sexually abused my eldest sister, Janice who became pregnant with his child. She was sent to Toronto to stay at my uncles, where she gave birth to a girl she named Tammy. Janice returned to North Bay and I remember seeing her try to get my father to hold their baby…he resisted, then held Tammy briefly before giving her back to Janice.

After that, Tammy was quickly given up for adoption, and my father’s drinking increased. The CAS records mention my sister leaving to stay with relatives in Toronto…but there’s no mention of the incest my sister suffered. I believe the adoption papers will show proof of Tammy…and a blood test would prove who the father was. I also feel the CAS had to know something about this, and did nothing. This is common knowledge that my family knows…and they hide it due to the extreme nature of my family.

I remember I was approximately 6 years old when I first became acquainted with the Children's Aid Society. I need to make it known that precise dates that far back are unclear...but the experiences are not. You never forget being apprehended from your family, not understanding why and what is happening, being placed with strangers and knowing only the utter fear of having your whole world turned upside down.

For me to be very specific would require a novel...not a letter. To be honest, I have yet to see a made for TV movie that comes close to how bad it was for our family.

After a couple of failed foster home placements, my brother Dan and I were placed in the care of an English family living in Powassan, Ontario. I believe the year was 1977 and I was 11 years old. I would have to say I really liked this family when I first met them. They had a daughter of their own. They had already provided a home to other foster children in the region and, because they were involved with the community, they were known by many. My Foster Father was working for U.O.P. forest products and my Foster Mother was running an art store called Artisans. Their daughter, whom I won't name, had moved after completing high school. They all seemed like the picture perfect family to me and I found myself thriving in their company for the first time in my life.

After approximately two years of being in their care, Dan and I were sent back home to the care of my father in North Bay, Ontario. Though my mother was gone, my father still had difficulties with alcohol and lack of employment. He would abuse me physically on an almost regular basis...and yet I would remain defiant. I would often be brought home by the police for delinquent behaviour. Eventually, at the approximate age of 13, I had run away from home after being beaten again from my father. After my foster father found me, he convinced me to come back home with him. Dan was visiting them for the weekend and decided he wanted to come back to the care of the Foster home as well.

While I thrived under their care, Dan did not. After being around our family, he couldn't make the adjustment. A short time later, Dan returned home. I told the judge at family court I didn't want to go home, and asked if I could stay with my Foster Family. I was made a Crown Ward of the Children’s Aid Society. It was shortly after this time that my Foster Father was starting his own business called 'Veneertech' which began to demand a lot of his time. He would travel for days sometimes, visiting other companies to do business I assume. I won't go into details here...but that is when 8 months of sexual abuse began. At first the sexual abuse was through seduction but when I started to resist, it changed to painful abuse. She threatened to kill me if I told anyone. I learned through fear and embarrassment not to say anything. It was around that time that my grades began to drop. When I was in grade 9 at Almaguin Highlands Secondary School, I was transferred to West Ferris Secondary in North Bay for bringing my foster father's marijuana to school. In retrospect, I'm pretty sure that my foster father knew something was wrong.

At the end of my stay with this Foster Family, I called the C.A.S. myself and asked to be moved. I was 15 years old. They placed me with my sister Jeannie for one week and then after that I was placed with friends of my Foster Family. Shortly after, I was placed in care with a French family with whom I couldn't communicate. After uttering inappropriate words to the other foster children, I was moved to a foster home in North Bay which was known for taking difficult children. I saw my foster mother once after that. She told me she had confessed to my Foster Father what she had done to me. It was around this time that she attempted to commit suicide and was shortly hospitalized.

It wasn't long before I returned to criminal behaviour and was truant from school again. I ran away to Toronto from the group home I was in when I was 16. It was there that my path crossed with those of former police officers Randy Nelson, who is now CEO of PROAM Security, and Craig Lewers of Toronto Police Service 52 Division. I was stopped for no particular reason except for maybe being out at night alone.

They threatened me for hours, both of them and some of the other male officers working that night at Toronto Police Service 52 Division...and when that didn’t work, they handcuffed me to an office chair and threatened to roll me down the flight of stairs nearby...and telling me to confess to crimes I wasn’t responsible for.

I tried to stay brave but after that... I was terrified for my life. I cried and told them I’d sign anything they wanted if they would just stop. They then brought files of crimes and showed them to me...I said what they wanted so they say...and signed everything they made me sign. It was truly a horrific experience...and I’m still dealing with the psychological difficulties related to that. I’m currently receiving treatment for severe PTSD to this day, 38 years later...just as I’ve carried their names.

Finally after signing what they made me sign, I was allowed to call a friend of my former foster father’s, James Phelan of Toronto. He assured me he’d be at my bail hearing and would post bail once it was set by the judge. That’s when the police realized that I was a Crown Ward of the Children’s Aid.

After two CAS workers from North Bay took me for one of the hearings that followed, the charges were quickly thrown out of court.

I was a minor...a 16 year old Native Crown Ward of the CAS. I was homeless and recently sexually abused...this is why I ran away from North Bay, Ontario. I needed their help, not their racism and brutality.

At this time, I knew my life was coming apart. I was angry, afraid and I felt cheated. I ran away from the group home again and was shortly arrested for 'break and enter'. I was sentenced to 1 year probation, in which I had to reside at the House of Concord outside London, Ontario. On my 17th birthday, I received a card from the C.A.S. in which I also received a summons to appear in court because the C.A.S. had made an application to terminate my wardship. They also included 10 dollars.

I don't know if you can understand the kind of impact this had on my life. I felt abandoned, angry, depressed and even suicidal. Because I had chosen the C.A.S., I was estranged from my family. I knew at that point, I had no one. Not understanding my rights and also because I was incarcerated, the hearing proceeded without me, and my wardship was terminated.

While incarcerated during the eighties at the Ontario Correctional Institute, I was a part of a study of the effect of Neurobiofeedback on repeat offenders. I met with Dr. Douglas Quirk and was treated by him. It was my second time sentenced to the custody of O.C.I., but not my second time in jail. By then, due to my committing repeated break and enters, I was well acquainted with being in jail.

As I mentioned earlier, the psychiatric staff at O.C.I. tried to help me break this pattern. Their names are Dr. Brian Harris, Dr Harriet D'Mello, Dr. Pat Sutkar...and of course, Dr. Douglas Quirk. After lengthy testing, I was treated for displaying signs of a chronic anxiety disorder, with severe antisocial tendencies. Dr. Quirk stated that my intelligence was in the 95th percentile...and before I go any further, let me state that I don't say this with pride. My reason is to help you understand who I am and why my life turned out the way it has. In the meeting we had that day, Dr. Quirk also drew a picture of three 'stick people', two large one side....one small on the other....and a drawing of a bottle in between. He asked me what this meant to me...I remember thinking for a moment and then I remember saying that the bottle was bigger than the child, meaning to me the wine was more important. In retrospect, I believe I was in error and what Dr. Quirk meant by the drawing was that the presence of alcohol interfered with my fetal development.

He prescribed months of Biofeedback, repeated one to one sessions as well as peer review sessions. To make a very long story much shorter, I will say that I spent most of the following 4 years in and out of custody. This pattern started to end after I received medical treatment while in custody at the Ontario Correctional Institute. It was after this that I went to jail once more in 1991 and have not returned since.

What I can say about my family is this…all my brothers, sisters and I suffer from the same symptoms on varying levels. As F.A.S.D. can cause sexual deviancy, my family has many sexual predators in it. Many of us have been sexually abused within the family. My nephew through one sister is autistic and my nephew through my other sister was being medicated for A.D.H.D. If you knew the total spectrum of disorders that everyone in my family are being treated for, and added with the high likelihood of fetal alcohol exposure, I'm sure the pattern would be apparent to you.

What I can say about my life is this. It is very difficult for me because I was not diagnosed for years...and at best have only been able to maintain intermittent treatment of symptoms through drugs like Atarax, Zoloft, Amitriptyline, Effexor and more. I didn't like the side effects of some so I would discontinue taking it. I have a history of severe depression because of the continuous isolation and have attempted suicide once. I can't hold down a job because I can't relate with people. I can't even maintain eye contact. I have had counselling but I've moved around from town to town, so that never really amounted to anything. I am overly sensitive and don't know how to relate with people. I'm often considered odd...even when I try to fit in. It is very difficult to maintain clear thought, yet my long term memory is uncanny. I often rant on the same topic. I am adept in computers and like numbers. I require routine. I find it very difficult to tolerate changes to my routine. Often my symptoms lead to depression, isolation and suicidal tendencies. Needless to say, the picture paints itself.

Having been raised in the care of the Children's Aid Society...I have no normal relationships in my family. For that matter, I don't socialize. I can honestly say I only have one person in my life that I can call friend. I can't maintain normal relationships. In all honesty, I wouldn't know how. But after being rotated through the foster care system, I never had any steady medical or psychiatric care. Plus having been in and out of jail for 10 years, I believe I was lost in the medical shuffle.

My life has been hell....pure and simple. The effect I've had on people has also been hell for some I’m sure. I’ve made many mistakes in life for which I’m so sorry. My life is not one of inspiration and success but rather of failure, isolation and poverty. I have lived on the streets, slept in apartment stairwells and laundry rooms, stayed in missions and eaten in soup lines. I’ve seen many holidays go by and when I wasn’t homeless, except for my experience at O.C.I., I was sent to correctional institutions where I was further victimized for being different. I’m still paying the price for many things that were out of my control...and it’s truly unfortunate to have to have dealt with all of this for so long.

Currently, I am 54 years old...but I still very much feel like that abused kid. I still carry all the pain and anger associated with this. It has never gone away for me.

After going over my Children’s Aid records, summaries of my medical files, my parents history with severe alcoholism, the social class of my family, the behavioural problems that run through most of my family members in varying degrees, a list of most prevalent genetic disorders amongst First Nations people, and the very course of difficulties I’ve endured in my life, I finally found a clinic that caters to Natives. I asked them to please validate my suspicions of undiagnosed FASD...and everything went into motion finally.

I’ve been to see the Genetics Clinic at C.H.E.O. in Ottawa for genetic testing but because there is no diagnostic test for Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder, all they could do was rule out other possible disorders, which came back negative. By process of elimination though, this supports my concern of brain injury due to prenatal exposure to alcohol.

During this time, I also reached out to lead FASD researcher, Pascal Gagne for the Fetal Alcohol Resource Centre of the Ottawa Citizen Advocacy. I was then referred to his boss, Nancy Lockwood. It wasn’t long before I was asked to be a panel member for their Symposium regarding FASD research and funding. I agreed and shortly after, the symposium proceeded as planned last November 2019 at Richmond Hall in Ottawa.

I now am being treated as a Native with FASD...and most if not all of the medical complications associated with it. The damage is finally being assessed by someone who really cares finally at least. Being recognized for being afflicted with F.A.S.D. near the end of my life is bittersweet. I often think of what my life could have been had I had the proper help I so desperately needed. If only...

What I do know is this. My name is Rick Bertrand, I’m a survivor of severe sexual and physical abuse, I’ve endured racism and police brutality, and I’ve had undiagnosed and untreated F.A.S.D. all my life, until now.

Sincerely

Ricki Bertrand