#he was revealed demon instead of human he was immediately distrusted.

[harpagornis]

Bayonetta: a journey of love

This franchise has a lot of heart.

Bayonetta is so absurd and over the top that I feel some people fail to address the nuances of the characters and games. True, the plots are intentionally convoluted, but there is some genuine character growth and depth to the plot.

In this particular essay (if you can call it that), I feel like exploring the theme of love in the games. Spoilers unfiltered, so play or do something else to get to speed if you haven't already

Bayonetta 1: loving yourself

As the lyrics of Mysterious Destiny put it, Bayonetta's bravado hides a deep sorrow, likely caused by her own loss of memory. In this game she meets a child, who is in truth a younger version of herself. Playing the game with this in mind is quite interesting, as she goes from being grossed out by the kid to loving her like it was her own. As this happens, she recovers her memories, and whatever sadness hides behind her smile dissipates. She accomplishes the first step: loving herself, warts and all.

Through this, Cereza's relationship with Jeanne is also explored. Starting as antagonistic, it is then revealed how deep their bond is as Jeanne, having her own mind unscrambled (she was under Balder's spell for most of the game) goes to freaking space to save Bayonetta. However, both express bravado in front of each other, playing off whatever affection they have.

Bayonetta 2: loving your father

In this game Cereza does what Jeanne did before and goes to the rescue of her friend, this time to Inferno itself. Again, however, they both display a bravado, as if they have to play off every moment of intimacy. Considering they both stress strength as an Umbran virtue, maybe it's toxic witchery?

The real emotional core is Bayonetta dealing with her father, a younger version of which having travelled forward to her time due to the main villain's machinations. Initially Bayonetta is understandably reserved, since she only knew her father as a genocidal monster, but in spite of this they quickly get along once they start working together. Then he sacrifices himself for the sake of humanity, and it's for the first time that we see Cereza in a vulnerable light, having finally understood that her father was worth loving all along and realising she wasted her only chance. She does him a favor and calls him "daddy", and she notably doesn't transition immediately to bravado.

She started that journey trying to prevent the loss of a loved one, only to have another lost.

Bayonetta 3: loving heteronormativity

Okay, I'm playing to the fact that nobody likes Luka/Cereza. But regardless, Bayonetta starts the game somber once more, now that her demonic contract is about to expire. She doesn't find much comfort in Jeanne, keeping her bravado still. In fact, neither of them have their relationship explored much, which is a shame since this game departs both characters.

Instead, its with Luka she finds an avenue to express vulenrability. She's more open with him than ever before, and in her last moments, when she is at her most vulnerable, she has him to protect her. She no longer displays her bravado, and exits to hell with her man in her arms.

Across the game, she also learns to love another person: Viola. Initially distrusting of her, she gradually shows affection towards her, even before it's ultimately revealed that she's her daughter. While unable to properly say goodbye to her due to her soul being sent to Inferno, a dark manifestation of her offers closure to the grieving new Bayonetta, testing her strength and then departing properly.

Final Thoughts

Overall, I find this theme of love a nicely subtle character development, allowing Cereza to express her softer side. The cynic may point out that this falls wthin Japan's misoginy (see: Sora from Digimon), but at no point does she fully lose her strength or confidence, so it's easier to swallow than similar examples.

Overall, even queens need to lay down and relax, and that's what Bayonetta does.

#bayonetta #feminism #love

[mejomonster]

The biggest fear watching like eps 15-29 of ice fantasy was like oh No OH Dear WHO is Ying Kong Shi's daddy because several things could very easily swing from people are setting up a romance to that's his sibling territory real quick!!

Which his mom being a mermaid??? ALSO added to this nightmare! ToT his mom calls the Mermaid Saint leader mom, and Lan Shang is Shi's Moms older sisters daughter. And everyone was contemplating marrying Lan Shang to Shi which would be cousins?? But then eventually there's a scene with Shi's mom and the Mermaid Saint that sort of implies his mom was treated/regarded "as a daughter" but is not actually her blood daughter. So thankfully I don't think Lan Shang is actually related to Shi or his mom except for being connected to Mermaid clan generally. Not that Lan Shang or Shi would ever be together, since they have a frienemies/friends kind of vibe, but still it was momentarily horrific in the context of Mermaid Saint trying to set it up when reveals hadn't come out yet

Then there's Fire King... Shi's mom thinks she slept with the fire king, but also seems aware on some level she slept with something More powerful than the fire king and the ice king and that's what made shi. So like? While shi is not the fire kings kid... most of the ice kingdom leaders Think he's the fire kings kid, fire king also thinks shi might potentially be his kid, and shi's mom doesn't really reveal to the audience it's probably something More Monstrous that is his dad until after all these assumptions got presented. MEANWHILE shi is not as up to date as the audience, thinks his mom lied and he IS the fire kings kid, which fucks him up a lot personally for a myriad of reasons - he thinks he's the enemy's son, he thinks as a kid when he killed the enemy fire prince he killed a Family Member, he must feel confused af about the situation with Yan Da, he thinks he almost killed his Actual Dad for his ice dad who's always wanted shi dead... just a lot of very sucky feelings for Shi while he's believing the incorrect assumptions. Like shi baby thank Fuck you aren't actually the fire kings son but just you thinking you are is already hella traumatizing

THEN there's the case of people maybe finding out who his actual daddy is later... the saints clearly got one of their own killed trying to read baby shi's future, that killing force was probably his dad/connected to his dad. His dad is probably some ancient fire ice immortal tribe, probably had to do with the She Yin situation idk.

Also the dark mist possessing shi and claiming it was from a higher form of immortal and wants the 3 realms to burn? Fascinating. I am wondering if like.. whatever immortal is the dark mist/shi's dad is like the USUAL xianxia type immortal - actual heavenly clan or demon clan type, since this whole show so far has operated in a world of immortals devoid of those Two usual powerhouses. Maybe long ago the heavenly clan and demon clan got wiped out (either by each other or the other clans like ice and fire), and this dark mist remnant wants payback. Having a bigger Immortal Type be Shis dad might also explain why he is So Overpowered.

#ice fantasy #ice fantasy lb #liveblog #basically 1 arc was like let me give the watcher a heart attack about all the ppl being pushed toward shi romantically #who might be his siblings -.- then eventuallt the show was like #ACTUALLY dont worry none of those people are his dad. BUT his actual dads probably pure Monster #which is worse for like. him in general long term. #but then poor shi isnt up to date on the monster dad reveal. hes still stuck on the incorrect 'my dads the fire king' info #which is traumatizing him plenty currently #also i found it interesting this show went the Ka Suo and Shi actually atent related at all route #because i expected shis mom to be where the not-ice powers came from so i was definitely wrong lol. i figured ice king Was his dad at first #so like. its even more impressive to me that ka suo is SUCH a good older brother he continues to see shi as his little brother #to care about and love regardless. shi also is imoressive for continuing to care about an older brothers happiness and freedom #when they have zero blood tie or political reason to need or want to help each other now. #they keep pickiny them against the world cause theyre found family #which means a lot to me. especially when in royal shows and clan shows. family ties and reveals can drastically change allegiances #like. for example Love and Redemption - no matter how good luohuo jidu was Bai Lin could only see him as a devil #or sifeng. no matter how close he was to seventh bro as a found family friend. once #he was revealed demon instead of human he was immediately distrusted.

[silvermoonflowers]

Moonflower Act IV

Priestess!Reader x Demon!Bucky

Summary: Just a cute little date between you and a handsome demon

Warnings: Lots of fluff, James being a relentless flirt, and the Reader being a bit feisty

Act III

You smiled happily as you pulled out a tray of freshly baked cream puffs from the stove.

Everybody, except you, was out for the day. A High Priestess from the Moon Temple had arrived and asked Nicole to come over so she could help her out with her spiritual powers. Although you wanted to be with Nicole so you could assist her too, the High Priestess gave you a sharp reprimand about performing your duties first. Meanwhile, Sam and the others were in a meeting with the King (for knights only apparently), leaving you the only one at the residence.

Oh well.

So far, you haven’t sensed any bad omens and there weren’t reports of demon sightings. You would’ve taken a walk to see Emily, but at that moment, it began to rain heavily. Great, just great. You glumly sat in the kitchen for a while before your eye caught a jar of flour. Since you didn’t know how long it would be before your family returned, you thought you would make some pastries as a welcome home gift for them.

As you waited for the pastries to cool, your mind began to wonder back to a certain demon.

You were still a bit wary of James due to his true nature. And you only saw him a few times, with those meetings being short and somewhat cryptid, which still mystified you. You suppose it because he was a demon. He probably didn’t want to stay around without a knight or demon hunter noticing him and then trying to kill him. 

And yet…

You sighed. In spite of his true nature, James was certainly beautiful and charismatic. His deep, smooth voice did wonders to you and you longed to be in his arms again. Just being with him gave you so much comfort in a world filled with grief and suffering.

I wonder if my family is alright if I let James stay at our house?

You frowned deeply. That was one of the few things that was in your mind all week now. No matter how much you wanted James to stay with you, you knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Because of so many past incidents, you and your family were distrustful of all demons, whether they were noble or not. But all James had ever shown you was kindness, which made you change your mind a bit. You ran a hand through your hair in frustration.

Now was not the time for confusing thoughts. 

You swiftly turned to a cabinet, intending to get a large plate to put the cream puffs on when the temperature suddenly became cold. That was surely a sign that a demon was going to appear. But the chilling presence was more comforting than threatening, which made you know who it was. You shuddered from delight as he made himself known.

“My, my what a sweet scent,” James purred as he leaned against one of the walls.

You didn’t turn around at first. Instead you took your time to get the plate. You weren’t actually ready to face him yet. 

“James, hello...you could’ve knocked, you know…” You muttered as you pushed aside stacks of small bowls and small plates.

There was a chuckle. “Hello to you too, my dear Priestess. And I would, however it’s raining. So I’d rather not get myself wet.”

“Yeah...true...well..umm...w-what the - hey!” When you turned around, your face began to burn with embarrassment almost immediately.

James had already grabbed one of the cream puffs and was casually munching on it. However, that wasn’t the only thing that made you seethe. Now that you met him again, but this time in broad daylight and without a cloak covering him, you could clearly see what he was wearing. He was wearing rather tight clothing, which made you wonder how he could move in them considering how muscular he was. Well, his shirt must’ve been that tight, since he didn’t bother to button up, exposing his well-built torso to you. 

You huffed. He had to have done that on purpose.

“J-James, I don’t mind if you eat the food, but you should’ve asked first!” You hissed as you tried so hard not to look at his chest.

James merely smirked at you as he took another bite. “Sorry dear, they just look so delicious. Do you need help by the way?”

“Oh no...thanks, I’m fine…”

The audacity of him...first he entered your home, (no, you weren’t counting the first time since he was there to save Nicole) while revealing his torso to you and then he took a pastry without asking you first. Well...James was a demon, so being mischievous was not uncommon to him, but still…

“Alright, if you say so. Do you mind if I take another one then, please?” James grinned, revealing a pair of sharp teeth, a hint of his true nature. You narrowed your eyes at him. But it wasn’t so much of his demonic features scaring you. No, he would never hurt you. It was more of the fact that he was teasing you.

“Yeah...well...whatever,” You mumble as you set the plate down and began piling the rest of the now cooled cream puffs on it. “But you better not eat them all. Save some for the family, too!”

“Thanks,” He purred as he plucked another pastry from the plate. “You’re such a doll.”

At the affectionate nickname, you nearly dropped the plate in shock. You had to bend down awkwardly in order to balance the plate. Thankfully, neither the plate nor the pastries fell to the floor. But now you just realized that you made a fool of yourself in front of James. His snicker obviously confirmed that.

“Wow Priestess, you sure are clumsy~~” “Shut up!” In your frustration, you threw a cream puff at James. He caught it with ease while you scowled. You didn’t mean to throw the pastry at him. You just wanted to get rid of James’ teasing smirk off of his beautiful face. 

“Another one? Aww thanks~~”

You sucked in a breath while setting the plate of pastries down a little too hard on the table. Why were you even acting irritated in the first place? You did want to see James again and your wish was indeed granted. Even if he did come into your house unexpectedly...

It was probably because James was practically shirtless that threw you off.

“James,” Your shoulders sagged a bit. ”...I’m sorry for being...mad at you just now. I really am glad to see you, you know..”

“Nah,” His voice suddenly became soft. “I think I went too far in teasing you.”

“I-it’s fine…”

There was now an awkward silence between the two of you with you clasping your hands together rather tightly and James finishing off the pastries. The rain was the only sound that filled the silence. You hoped James wasn’t too upset with you because of your fiery outburst. 

“S-So, uhh...y-you want some...t-tea?” You wanted to cringe at how much you were stammering, but James didn’t seem to notice as he nodded.

While you prepared two cups of jasmine tea, you kept sneaking glances back at James who was now staring off into space. Now would probably be a great time to start an actual conversation. 

“So…” You trailed off for a second before the words came into your mind. “James…you need me for something?”

He smirked. “I just want to see if you’re alright, my dear Priestess~” You blushed. “Oh well...thank you. I’m glad to see you’re alright too. So w-where do you uhh live?” It may seem like a strange question, but even demons had to hide somewhere.

“Ah, I actually live in an inn not too far from here.”

“You’re okay with living among humans?” You looked at him incredulously while handing him a cup of tea. It’s a wonder for him to be staying at a place where both mercenaries and demons hunters would often hang out.

He shrugged. “It’s better to be there than to be at my...uh...old home?”

You weren’t even going to question what James referred to as his “old home” as you already had the dreadful idea of what it was. 

“However, the owners do know that I’m a demon.”

“What? How?”

James gave you a rather sheepish grin. “Let’s just say I accidentally revealed my true form to the owners when I saved them from a close encounter with a demon. But the owners don’t seem to care about that though. They just endlessly thanked me for saving them. They promised to keep it a secret and let me stay at their place for as long as I want. I kinda felt bad that I was staying there for so long. So I decided to get rid of any demon that came too close to the inn, even though the owners insisted that I don’t have to.”

“Oh, that’s nice. But what about the mercenaries?” 

James scoffed as he took a sip of his tea. “You mean the ones who are so arrogant and are only doing it for attention than actually helping their fellow humans? I don’t even come near them. All they do is constantly brag about their victories and demand for more money. It’s irritating as hell.” 

You let out a giggle and then quickly pursed your lips. But more giggles erupted. You had to set your teacup down so the drink wouldn’t spill on your dress. The way James looked so grumpy was such a contrast to his handsome, charismatic self. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips formed a cute pout. However, he did have a point about certain mercenaries. You had only fought alongside them at least three times and all three times nearly ended in disaster. Two of them even demanded for yours’ and Nicole’s hand in marriage, much to your family’s chagrin. 

As you recovered from your giggling fit, you heard a teacup being set down. You looked up, only for your eyes to widen. James’ chest was suddenly right in front of your face. When did he get so close to you without you even noticing?

Your eyes trailed down to his abs. Oh, his abs looked nice enough to touch. And damn, those dark pants really are tight on him. But before you could look any further, a cold hand tilted your chin.

“Ah-ah, eyes up here.”

There was a twinkle of amusement in James’ blue eyes and you felt both shy and a bit of fury rising within you. Shy because of what you assume is James going to kiss you and fury because of how relentless he was in teasing you. How long was this guy going to make you blush?!

His hand slid up to your cheek and stayed there. Then his long fingers began to gently caress your skin and you had to bite your lips from letting out a breathy sigh. The sensation was cold, so cold, and yet...so nice.

“I have something for you,” James’ voice was a mere whisper now. His hand disappeared from your cheek as he pulled out a small box from his pocket and gave it to you. The box was wrapped in what seemed like expensive gift paper and it was pretty lightweight. 

“W-what is it?” 

James only smiled. “Open it.”

You set the box on the table and unwrapped it. A gasp left your throat when the gift was revealed. It was a beautiful ring and a very expensive one at that. The band was made out of rose gold. Resting on top of the band was a shining diamond, surrounded by crystalline petals that appeared to be in the shape of a moonflower. A moonflower ring. The same ones that you saw whenever you and Nicole visited the jewelry market. You swallowed hard before turning to James, whose smile grew.

“Oh...J-James...thank you. But...how can you afford it? This is really expensive -”

James winked at you. “I’m a demon, remember? I can summon money out of thin air.”

Yeah, but for a price… You thought bitterly as you remembered trying to save someone who was foolish enough to make a deal with a demon. But James definitely wasn’t that cruel to do something like that…

“Oh, James...thank you so much.” You closed the box and held it close to your chest. “But you didn’t have to…” You didn’t know why, but you felt bad that James bought something that cost so much.

“Oh, come now, dear Priestess,” James said in a low voice as he took a step closer to you. His hands slid over your shoulders and pulled you into his bare chest. With your cheek pressed against his cold skin, you nearly fainted. Dammit, just why was James so handsome and sultry?!

“This gift is a symbol of my love for you. So I hope you enjoy my gift. Please, cherish it forever.” At the word “love”, your heart nearly skipped a beat. You felt James press a kiss to your forehead, making you blush even more. “Thanks for the tea and pastries, doll.”

Then just like that fateful night from before, James took a few steps back, never taking his eyes off of you. But this time, you took a step forward, your free hand outstretched towards him. He smiled and brushed his fingers over your hand before he took one last step into a shadowy corner.

“I’ll see you again, my dear Priestess.” Before you could say something, he disappeared. For a while, you stared at the spot where he disappeared, with your face burning hot and the box clutched tightly in your hands. 

“Hey, we’re home! Boy, is it raining hard!” Sam called out from the main corridor, startling you. “Oh what’s that sweet scent?”

You quickly hide the box behind a shelf before going into the corridor to greet your family. 

“Welcome back, everyone!”

                                                                             *~*~*

There was only darkness when the demon entered the old mansion. But he didn’t mind. The darkness felt like home to him. It’s a relief from the annoying sunlight that had peeked out from the clouds now.

“Master,” he called out. “I have returned.”

Footsteps echoed and in the sliver of sunlight, another demon appeared. He looked much more ancient compared to the one who stood before him.

“Welcome back,” his master said. He then frowned rather deeply. “However next time, use the mirror to enter through here. You don’t want to get the attention of the humans, do you?”

The demon scoffed, but then shook his head quickly when his master gave him a look of disapproval. 

“So...” the demon began when his master continued to stare at him.  “I’ve done it.”

His master’s normally cold expression lightened. “Oh? Good. Very good.”

The demon could see the eagerness in his master’s eyes and he couldn’t help but feel a bit prideful.

“Then your next task is to try to find a way to get as close as possible to the Priestess and her sister.  But remember, you must be very, very subtle about it. The slightest mishap and it could be your downfall. Then when they truly put their trust into you, kill them both. Ran’s lineage ends with their deaths. The Kingdom of Larissa will finally be ours.”

Already tasting the glory of victory, the demon smirked and gave a rather mocking bow to his master. “As you wish.”

#demon!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x fem reader #bucky barnes x fem reader #bucky barnes x y/n #writings

[treeni]

Sanders Sides Orange Side Predictions

Theories Masterpost

If you haven’t read @averykedavra‘s post on the idea then you absolutely should. It is extremely well thought out and considers a lot of possibilities about the Orange side, even though there are some specific thoughts that I personally disagree with, it is absolutely worth reading through.

First, I want to say I agree with them pointing out @dragonsaphirareads character Otto, aka “Obsession” as being a brilliant take on what the Orange character could be from a conceptual basis. I also think @candied-peach / Peachsneaker’s character Wrath is another brilliant take on the opposite side of the spectrum of the potential of what the orange side could be. Honestly, if you haven’t, you should check out these two creators' works immediately as they are both completely fantastic writers and have a lot of great Sanders Sides stories, both with and without romance.

My only gripe is that I think both characters are too inherently good in their depictions. Personally, I think both authors are right, to a point. I think the Orange character would be someone who cares too much and takes things too far. What’s interesting about DragonSapphiraRead’s character, is that he was once Passion and gave up parts of himself to the others. It’s interesting, but I personally don’t think that’s how it’s going to go.

Instead I think Passion is exactly the trait that the darkside character is going to embody and this is where I most agree with averykedavra’s take. I think the Orange side is going to come in as someone who appears “good,” “right,” and even “helpful” at first glance, and yet, you gradually start to realize the problems further on. 

If you look at the progression of the darksides so far, you may notice that  they have followed the rule of three in establishing a pattern. Virgil showed up and scared the others until his point got across until he was listened to, so really was it any surprise when both Janus and Remus immediately did the same upon their introductions? Given the divide, it took time and understanding to start being open to the good that Virgil brings. Janus has only just started to really prove to Thomas that he is well intentioned and Remus hasn’t even begun that part of the journey yet. However, you can see the three characters all in various states of the pattern that Virgil set. Virgil is at acceptance, Janus is at tolerance (or at least close to it) and Remus is still at distrust, but past the introduction and initial scare.Their actions have all followed the rule of three behavior that establishes a pattern for the audience to recognize. We inherently know Janus and Remus as being on the same “track” as Virgil was on a subconscious level.

Which is why I think the Orange side will absolutely destroy that expectation by diverting from that path and all current expectations of darksides. After a pattern of accepting the darksides, I think they will decide to immediately give the Orange side a chance because by then they will also have multiple examples of their shortsightedness about the darksides potential in helping Thomas.

 I also think Orange will absolutely come in and appear good at first glance. This will probably happen after Janus is really, truly accepted by the other sides and Remus is at least on his way to being accepted. I also really liked averykedavra’s idea that the orange side gives his name immediately, but I disagree on the idea that he can hide his role. The roles are something that others have been shown to bring up to the group and be generally aware of. No side has had to introduce their role as far as I can remember.

However I actually think of this as further evidence for the side having the role of Passion instead of Wrath or Obsession. Because Passion seems good at baseline and is absolutely good if controlled. However, Passion also encapsulates things like Wrath, Obsession, Procrastination, and Spite.

Imagine if you will, a side that comes in dressed as seemingly innocuous in fandom gear and tee shirts with big smiles and excitement. He quickly and easily proclaims his excitement of all of the others’ work and is extremely supportive at the beginning. I could see CharacterThomas becoming quickly and easily attached to someone who seems so positive and relatable. I think he’d be a little like Patton at first glance, but more childish. There would be none of the “fatherly” care in him for example. He would seem interested in what the others would say and generally only make quiet additions to the conversation. In the beginning it seems as if he brings out the good in the other sides with his small bits of help and encouragement. Except, he doesn’t stop at small. Instead as the sides start to become used to his presence he starts pushing things further and further. 

This side never lies, he doesn’t need to. He can manipulate the truth to do his bidding. He gently reminds Roman of all of the things he hasn’t yet achieved of his dreams. As a friend he pulls Patton aside to remind him of some of the bad things happening recently in the world, just to warn him of course. He asks for Logan’s help in clarifying  some facts that might be a little uncomfortable, but definitely important. He gently nudges Virgil about some of the dangerous things that could have happened to Thomas and really? Isn’t he just lucky to have come out okay so far? And self-preservation? No, not even he’s safe as the side reminds him of the rocky state of his “supposed acceptance” until Janus’ doubts overtake him.

You think Thomas struggles in dealing with one of them acting in extremes? Just wait until they all are. Logan becoming obsessive, Roman becoming unfocused, Virgil becoming paranoid, Patton becoming hysterical, and even Janus literally walling himself away because he devolves into extreme self-defense. (Also possibly trying to hastily wall just him and Thomas away. Because defensive rationality.)

The vast differences between the caring Patton and this side become increasingly clear to the audience, but by this point it’s too late. The sides are (almost) all hanging on his every word.

Logan can’t outmaneuver manipulative honesty, Virgil can’t caution against it, Roman’s too restricted to find a creative solution for it. Even Patton and Janus are ineffective because not only does it sound and feel right, it also seems akin to some of Janus’ behavior of revealing “uncomfortable” truths that Thomas doesn’t want to hear. 

I think this side is going to slowly drive the others into their own extreme biases until their own behaviors are so chaotic and restless they become literally unable to contribute to the conversation.

I also think that will be what makes this particular side terrifying. Instead of scaring the others into listening to him, he simply feeds into their own biases until they are so divided there is no longer a conversation. 

You see, this side wouldn’t simply want to be a voice to be heard. He would want to be the only voice.

Okay, now for my justification as to why. 

1. As I already mentioned before, we as humans like threes, comedians will list three things to establish a pattern and then add a fourth in a “one of these is not like the others” to make a joke. The best way to break a pattern is to flip expectation on its head. This side is already breaking that ideology simply by existing as a fourth darkside. He isn’t there to follow the others paths.

2. Janus and Remus’ religious dialogue that is telling of their own negative views of their lack of “inherent goodness” because they consistently use their own existences as proof of Thomas’ “inherent evilness.” While being revealing of their thought processes, I also believe it is a hint to the last side’s state as a Lucifer-like character in the classical sense of his intended perception. Not a demon, but an angel. Someone who believes they have done no wrong and tempts you on a personal level.

3. Also consider some of the things orange as a color symbolizes: encouragement, enthusiasm, and motivation, yes, but also ambition, domination, temptation, and warning.

It’s still loose evidence as we haven’t even met the side yet, but we as an audience can still derive a lot about him from the other characters.

Now that I’m here shoving all my opinions in your faces, I might as well go all out. 

I am currently two for three on darkside names so I’m going to throw my hat in and tell you my guess on that too. 

If the new Orange side follows my predictions I also think he will be named Aiden. 

Why? First, it means “fiery one” which is a perfect association for both passion and the color orange. It also mimics a “light side” name without quite fitting in with the “en” ending. Additionally, like most names, it is a modernization of older names and this particular one has derivative connections to both the Celtic god of sun and fire “Aodh” and the Greek god “Aidoneus” otherwise known as Hades. (Also keep in mind that Lucifer’s name means Morningstar, aka the sun.) Finally, the word “Aid” is literally in the name to give the impression of innocence. 

And that is my TED talk.

#sanders sides #orange side #prediction #headcannon? #sanders sides theory #theory #passion theory #longpost #textpost #sscolortheory #thomas sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #treeni theory

[hoodoo12]

Ménage (6/13ish)

SFW chapter; unexpected visitor reveals himself, anger, verbal warfare

@thewolfisapartofmysoul @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @yogsathot @dilfyjuice @janitor-boy

Enjoy!

~

It had been so long since he’d had a corporeal form in the human realm, he had almost forgotten what sunlight--real sunlight--felt like. It was . . . nice. Warm.

Dewey rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, nose wrinkling at the smell of demon saturating her sheets. He had hoped she wouldn’t go through with it, hoped he could influence her to see reason and say no, but her loneliness was too strong, too loud. He had nearly cursed aloud when she led the infernal spirit to her bed; becoming corporeal, unless a subject’s life was in immediate danger, was impossible, and required snipping through a bog of bureaucratic red tape. If he had known being a guardian angel came with so many regulations, he would have just stayed dead.

But looking after her had almost made it worth it. Molly was slotted for tragedy and heartache in her life, and he had walked beside her for every step of it. Dewey had kept her alive, kept her safe, out of harm’s way, and in the process, she had grown on him.

But this . . . this, he couldn’t save her from. His charge was corrupted, her soul stained with a demon’s mark. And now that he had physical form, he could speak to her, make her see sense . . . or at least bodily remove her from harm.

She walked into the bedroom, smelling of warmth and fresh roses, and he smiled. “It’s good to hear you sing again, Molly.”

He wasn’t expecting her to scream. Shit.

⁂

So far he had found an interesting collection of random bones and a book that gave off a heavy vibe that warned him off. Beetlejuice stared out her kitchen window at the extensive gardens outside her house, and wondered if she'd think him odd to want to walk through it.

His ear caught her singing over the sound of the shower running, and he thought to surprise her by stepping into her bathroom before she got out, but the water shut off before he made it back through the house.

With his hand on her bedroom door, he stopped short at the bright aura moving in ripples coming from inside.

He peeked in, and his eyes narrowed as he felt tendrils of red work their way into his hair.

A fucking angel was in her room?

⁂

She shrunk back, squeezed between the dresser and the wall, a death grip on her towel to keep it from falling as she froze. He . . . he had wings. Large, snow-white wings that were now folded snugly against his back. She was hallucinating. Had to be. She blinked. They didn’t disappear.

“Wh-Who the fuck are you? Get out!”

Through the haze of fear and shock, Molly could see his lips move and heard the sound of speech, but wasn’t quite able to process what he was saying to her. With a jolt, she remembered her other guest, and prayed he was close enough to hear her. She called his name once, only once.

⁂

How frustrating. Summoning a demon into her home had impressed and fascinated her, but an angel in her bedroom caused her to scream in terror? Dewey could have rolled his eyes if he wasn’t concerned with calming her down.

“Just take a breath and let me explain, Molly, please?”

Instead, she yelled her lover’s name, and he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had hoped the two of them could talk without getting the demon involved, but he supposed everything else was going sideways, so why not this?

There was never a good time to deal with celestial beings, but Beetlejuice wasn't going to let Molly deal with this on her own, especially since she used his full name. If he didn't go in, she might mindlessly repeat it twice more and then where would he be? Plus, she'd called him accidentally; how did he know she didn't call this angel as well?

With a sigh, Beetlejuice walked into her bedroom with as much confidence as he could gather wearing women's sweatpants.

"Hey babe, good morning," he said brightly, as if seeing an angel in her bedroom was a common occurrence.

When the angel's wings spread a little bit, in a show of intimidation, he finally deigned to give him a look. Granted, he didn't make a habit of hanging around with celestials, but this angel, despite his wings, didn't look anything like he expected. Where were the shining robes? The aura of brightness, from standing so close to God? This guy didn't look like that at all. He was only moderately tall, with messy hair, and wearing a sweater vest? Beetlejuice wrinkled his nose.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you just appearing in a woman's bedroom was incredibly rude? What do they teach you, up in angel school?"

Immediately upon the demon's entrance, he bristled, wings expanding as much as they could within the confines of her room. "What, was I supposed to wait around out there to make pleasant conversation with you? I'm here to speak to her."

As soon as Beetlejuice stepped into her room, Molly moved closer to him, eyeing her new visitor with a distrustful eye. Beej didn't seem too worried at his appearance, and that set her a little more at ease. Until he said the word "angel."

"Wait . . . so . . . he's really an angel?" Her brows knit together, still a bit shaky from the initial shock and more confused than she could ever remember being. "Like, wings and halos, 'be not afraid,' actual angel?"

Suddenly, Molly remembered what Beej had said last night about summoning a celestial. "Did . . . Did I do this?"

When Dewey eyes turned to Molly, he softened, holding both hands up in a display of peace.

"Yes, Molly, I'm a real angel. Your angel, actually." For the first time since she had entered the room, he looked a bit sheepish, ruffling a hand through his messy brown hair.

"I'm...well, I'm kind of what you'd call . . . a guardian  angel," he explained further. "To be specific, I'm your guardian angel. And I'm here because this," he nearly hissed, eyes narrowed as he pointed at the demon, "is a bad idea. I can't stress enough how bad an idea this is."

Beetlejuice slipped an arm around Molly's waist as she came near him, subtly laying claim that he knew didn't go unnoticed. In fact, it was probably the reason the angel's voice became a hiss, instead of staying smooth. He smirked.

"I thought guardian angels were young things. Kinda . . . " he paused and pursed his lips, as if trying to think of the term. " . . . like probationary angels? Like, not quite good enough to make it as real angels, kissing God's feet or whatever. Baby angels! Is that true? Do you have to meet some kind of quota and then you get promoted?

An angel.  A real angel. Not just any run of the mill messenger of God, but her own personal guardian angel. Molly stepped out of the protective arm slung around her waist, stepping forward a bit as if to get a better look at him. She was nearly at eye level with him, and she was realizing now that aside from the wings and faint golden corona, he seemed very human.

Her hands shook as they fell by her sides, but not with fear or shock; the clench in her jaw and the sudden narrowing of her eyes gave away that they were shaking with rage.

”How fucking dare you.”

Her tone was low and venomous; the angel looked shocked, but she didn’t give him time to reply or explain.

“You mean to tell me you’ve been here this entire  time, and you’ve just stood by and let all that shit happen?! What the fuck kind of guardian does  that?! Where were you when my family died? Where were you when I was on my own for four years? Were you just sitting back and watching each time I tried to take my life?  Where were you when Rebecca died? Did it matter at all to you how heartbroken I was? What use are you if you can’t keep me from hurting?!”

Her hands were clenched into tight fists at her side, her entire body rigid and practically thrumming with anger.

“You’re a piss-poor excuse for an angel,” she said, her tone lower but no less sharp. ”Get out of my house. I don’t want you here.”

Oh, if it wouldn’t have cost him his wings, he would have taken a swing at that smug, grinning bastard, just to wipe that smirk off his face. Hell, he still might have, if Molly hadn’t turned her wrath onto him. Dewey had been expecting it, but if he was being honest, it didn’t make her anger sting any less. He stood there and took it, looking rightfully guilty, wings folded meekly against his back.

“Sweetheart,” he started, wanting so badly to take her hands but not quite daring to, “I’m sorry. If I could have spared you all of that, I would, but my hands were tied. As long as your  life wasn’t in immediate danger, I couldn’t do anything. But I promise you, I was there.”

He came closer, eyes wide and warm and earnest. “Why do you think you decided to go for a walk that day? Do you think it was an accident that each suicide attempt failed? I was there at your side the whole time. It gutted  me, having to watch you suffer and knowing I couldn’t help you through it, couldn’t have done anything to help. But . . . there’s a higher plan. An order for everything.

“Which is why I’m here now.”

Again, he sent a pointed look toward the demon. “Molly, do you have any idea how dangerous he is? I can’t take corporeal form for anything less than immediate danger of death or corruption, and you’re so close to losing your soul.”

Her mouth opened as if to ask a question, but he held up a hand to stop her.

“Summoning a demon is one thing. Ninety-nine percent of the time, it’s accidental, and the demon runs off to be someone else’s problem. Keeping the demon around? Consorting  with it? That’s another matter.”

Dewey turned his attention away from his charge, eyes narrowed as he addressed Beetlejuice. “Why are you still here? Hoping for one more lay before you hit the road?”

Her anger first startled, then amused him to no end. Most people were awed when they first encountered angels; celestials liked to dazzle. He wished he could just sit down and watch the show; this was prime reality TV right here.

But when this uppity angel took a step forward, right into her personal space where the rage was the strongest, Beetlejuice stepped back towards her too. She'd shaken him off, yes, and he was still only wearing sweatpants--he really should just get back into his suit, but didn't want to risk a moment's distraction--but it was obvious the angel wanted nothing more than to take Molly's hands and probably hug  her, and that was not going to happen with him around.

His eyes flashed a deeper amber as accusations flew from the celestial's mouth.

"She has a point," he spit back. "You were pretty hand's off, it sounds like, and now you waltz in like you're some knight in shining armor? Molly wanted company,  which if I'm understanding correctly, you knew and did absolutely nothing about!"

The angel retorted the same drivel about "his hands being tied", and he spoke over him, addressing Molly directly.

"See the difference between us, baby? Demons are straight forward. Angels fucking "watch over you", which basically means spying."  He flicked a poisonous glance back at the winged being. "Don't deny you weren't watching us last night, or you wouldn't have asked me about 'one more lay'. Were you rubbing one out, watching us like your own private porn? You're jealous! You wished you'd had the balls to come down here and actually spend physical time with your charge!"

He hated to admit it, but the demon’s words stung. He was  jealous. He had spent years wishing he could hold her, could stroke the tears from her cheek, could offer her any kind of comfort or support. It was forbidden, taboo, and in very bad taste, but he had also entertained less innocent thoughts about her. How her lips would feel. How soft her hair would be against his bare skin. And seeing that demon touch her? Kiss her? Stain her body? It was almost more than he could bear.

“I couldn’t  watch,” he spat, his wings ruffling irritably, his cheeks reddening. “I couldn’t stand the sight of you pawing at her.”

He turned to Molly, who seemed shrunken in on herself, as if folding beneath the emotional weight of the situation. “I . . . I’m not always watching. I’ve never . . . seen  anything you wouldn’t want me to see.”

That was a bit of a bend in the rules; angels were supposed to be by their charges' sides at all times, supposed to be above human urges like lust or longing, above such silly notions as embarrassment over a naked body. But he couldn’t be, not with her. It felt . . . violating,  somehow.

Their voices, whether addressing her or spitting venom at each other from their respective sides of the moral spectrum, sounded muted and faint behind the pounding of her pulse in her ears. It was so much all at once; would there ever come a time in her life when she could just have peace? If she had known her little summoning spell was going to toss her right in the middle of a supernatural dick-measuring contest, she would have just left well enough alone.

A shiver trickled down her spine, and suddenly she realized how cold she was, standing in nothing but a damp towel with her wet hair stuck to the back of her neck.

“Guys,” she said softly, still unable to fully process that she was standing in her bedroom with a demon and an angel. “Can you go out into the living room or something so I can get dressed?”

Perhaps she would feel better equipped to deal with this situation once she didn’t feel quite so vulnerable.

Beetlejuice didn't want to leave her side, especially with an angel who was obviously trying to hide a holy boner over the woman standing beside him, but if it was going give him a leg up on a celestial, he'd do it.

"Sure thing, baby girl," Beetlejuice agreed, leaning into her to kiss her cheek while keeping his eyes on angel, just to see his reaction to the familiarity.

Then he left the room, confident that he would be followed. As he suspected, a faint footfall accompanied by the sound of distant bells trailed him. As soon as Molly's door was shut, he spun back on the angel.  

"You fucking think you're “protecting" her?! What a line of horseshit! If you really are spying on her, then you'll know I didn't coerce her into calling me--she did that all on her own! Plus I actively tried to leave! I told her to try again, get something else here instead of me! You'd have had an open door to come to her! But you didn't.  You let her feel like she was alone in this fucking void!

"Are all guardian angels," he put the two words in finger quotes, "as shittily ineffectual as you?!"

He expected some retaliation, whether verbal or physical, but didn't expect the angel's eyes to roam his body as if judging him--well, that's how angels viewed everything, really. Superior bastards.

At his last outburst, Dewey scoffed, finally allowing his eyes to roll. “You could at least put a shirt on. It’s not like it would kill you.”

"No, I'm not changing into something else," he finished, snapping the elastic at the waist of the sweatpants for emphasis. He didn't pull them out enough to showcase he wasn't wearing underwear, but he figured the angel was smart enough to figure it out. "I'm comfortable in these, so suck it!"

It was all he could do to keep his eyes from rolling when the demon cozied up to her, pressed his profane lips to her cheek in a display that was more territorial than affectionate. He nodded and followed suit behind him, shutting the door to let her have a moment’s privacy, and as expected, as soon as they were in the next room over, the demon rounded on him. His arms folded across his chest, a brow arched, like an exasperated parent waiting for a child throwing a tantrum to tire themselves out.

Now that the demon, who she had called Beetlejuice earlier, was silent, he spoke, careful to keep his tone measured and even.

“I don’t expect you to get it. There are rules, procedures, structures. We’re supposed to be silent guardians.” He smoothed some of the ruffled feathers in his wings, attempting to remain aloof. “Anyway. I don’t have to explain myself to you, and you’ll be gone soon enough.”

His eyes drifted toward Molly’s closed bedroom door, brown eyes stormy. Truth be told, he absolutely useless as an angel; if he could have been with her, held her hand, dried her tears . . . maybe none of this would have happened, and she wouldn’t have put her soul in such mortal risk. Hell, he would have settled for just being able to speak to her, to coax her to sing with him, to assure her that she wasn’t alone.

He could have been everything she needed if not for these stupid rules. Angels, he had noticed, had a habit of thinking they knew better than the humans they were placed with, and he had a feeling that if given the opportunity to appear at will, they would use it to manipulate their charges’ choices, altering the course of their life. If there was anything the Boss was a stickler for, it was maintaining free will.

tbc . . .

#writing #fanfiction #Beetlejuice #Beetlejuice x OC #Dewey Finn #rp #Beetlejuice based on Blumjuice

[shortpirateking]

🐍+ 🌇

(I was going to make it as silly as the other, but thanks to a nightmare and some memories, this will fall in line for more hurt/comfort)

(I’ll try to be vague, but there is talk about past abuse and trauma)

The world Ariel lived in was strange, so many humans, so many cultures, and so many habits. Ariel’s world was bustling with noise, life and new technologies that made the chamberlain’s mind whirl. Oh, if only the scientist was here, maybe he could make his own version of some of the commodities. 

Of course, Ariel seemed right at home, preparing meals, feeding neighborhood strays, and just handling life as normal as possible, while SkekSil struggled.

She was much more put together than in the castle, and yet... somehow just a little less...cheery.

More so as Sunday rolled by. That day, she sighed, slowly putting on a jacket as she moved to the door.

“Where is friend Ariel going?” He finally asked, tilting his head.

She paused, seeming lost in thought. “....it’s a family gathering...” she finally spoke, shoulders sagging.

“Seems too down for it to be good” he hummed, tilting his head. “chamberlain sees friend’s exhaustion, why not stay home, yes? No need to go”

She shook her head, “I really miss my grandma, hun.. I can’t just stop visiting her or my uncles because of this..”

“mmm...” His eyes showed thoughfulness, before brightening. “Well! Then chambertain will just have to attend too!”

As per usual, it was a game of convincing her, something Skeksil could easily do all day, and finally he was allowed to join. Thanks to her trepidation, he was expecting something like a room full of annoying and loud generals, but instead came to a house full of interesting and rather calm family members. They played games, joked, teased, and welcomed him well enough. All seemed okay, until the night wore on and her mother appeared.

Her mother motioned for her to follow her into the room, and Skeksil immediately took notice of the other’s sudden tenseness, took note how she shook her head. 

Her mother continued, and finally one of her uncles sighed and nodded to her to follow, which she reluctantly did.

For him, it was odd to see her so...tense and nervous, and as the chamberlain, he took no time in excusing him outside, remembering how the windows were opened, allowing him to hear the happenings within the room they went into.

“I don’t know what to do anymore. Nobody cares, nobody understands me.”

“I...i’m sorry to hear that” Ariel’s voice was soft and strained, far too uncomfortable and feeble, unlike her typical loud and carefree voice.

“why do you not show me care anymore? why don’t you help your mother? Don’t you love her?” Suddenly the woman’s tone of voice changed, becoming more accusatory. “You ran away and never told us where you went. You don’t care, you barely cared after Hillary committed suicide, her baby girl she left behind you didn’t even comfort your mother after your grandpa-”

“Stop!” her voice was desperate, but firm. SkekSil knew she was shaking.

“it’s true! you never care about anyone but youself, you worship the computer, you even admitted you had demons visit you!” 

“I NEVER said that! I said I had nightmares, mom I-”

“Fine” the woman sounded angry, and he easily heard the door close, quiet, not the slam he expected.

He would have went off to walk, pretend he didn’t hear, until he heard her ask for him, where he was....He remained still, watching as she turned the corner outside and paused at where he was.

She didn’t look surprised, and instead sighed, motioning him to the car. was she leaving early because of this?

The answer was yes, as she gripped the steering wheel hard, tense and deathly silent, it remained so quiet, that when she finally spoke, he nearly jumped.

“How...much did you hear?” Her voice was quiet, much too quiet, and Skeksil gulped.

“Chamberlain...may have heard some...”

“the truth skeksil..” as she neared a stopsign, she gave him a desperate look, “Please...” it wasn’t an order, but it compelled him more so than even the emperor’s commands.

“all of it..” He admitted, causing her to visibly relax, but give such a saddened and defeated sigh. 

The ride became silent once more, and remained as such until she pulled into her house. before she left, a gently talon rested upon her arm.

“Chamberlain...may not be most trustworthy..” He began, “but...can listen, feel better, yes?”

Her eyes,  now a sea green revealed her distrust, her worry, but for once, Skeksil was being sincere, and she could see it.

Her sigh was defeated, “my mom...” 

“My mom was...abusive..” she admitted, causing his brow to raise in curiosity “not the kind like you skeksis do, but psychological...” She shook, and it seemed like she was about to crack before a wave of past trauma and emotions. Strong, protective, and headstrong Ariel...it was a wonder he had never seen this side of her. “She’d....She’d tell me when the world would in, when I was young, send me into panics...pull that...bullshit, even if I tried to make her happy, comfort her.. She’d belittle me, and-” She continued, a torrent of emotions and past trauma never spoken before falling past her lips, and washing the chamberlain away in shock.

Suddenly, all her actions, all her fears, and  why she seemed to loathe and avoid him so much clicked into place, and he realized that all of it was from one woman, one being....someone who was supposed to care for her offspring.

“I....see” Suddenly, he stopped speaking in his normal third person ways, and Ariel tensed. She didn’t dare turn to him, but he could feel the fear in her frame, as if....she was afraid he was going to put her down, harm her while down.

Which, under normal circumstances, he would have, were it not so personal...were it not so deep set into her very veins that it was practically etched into skin. one wrong word, and she would unravel-

He instead brought her into a hug, feeling her tense, her breath hitch.

“You have no right be be abused in such manner.. “ he finally spoke, listening as her breathing hitched, as soft sobs met his ears. Her body shook, trembling, and for the first time in so long, Skeksil simply listened, and comforted.

(I know it isn’t as good as my other writings, but I needed....i don’t know...to get it out there. It suddenly came back and I needed something to write it out.)

(I’ll try not to write too many things like this but yeah...I’m still shaking as I type and feel a tightness in my chest..)

(thanks for understanding babes)

[alexthegamingboy]

Toonami Weekly Recap 11/23/2019 (The Forge Edition, Week 3)

My Hero Academia Shie Hassaikai Arc Season 4 EP#65 (02) - Boy Meets...: Izuku battles Sir Nighteye to get his stamp and approval to join his agency. However, midway through battle, Nighteye reveals a secret about All Might that shakes Izuku's confidence greatly.

JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind EP#05 - Find Polpo's Fortune!: News of Polpo's apparent suicide reaches the organization, along with suspicion that Bucciarati knows the location of Polpo's hidden fortune. Meanwhile, Giorno is introduced to the other members of Passione: Leone Abbacchio, Narancia Ghirga, Guido Mista and Pannacotta Fugo. After learning of Polpo's death, Bucciarati takes his team on a yacht to Capri to retrieve Polpo's fortune and attain the rank of capo. Narancia, Mista and Fugo mysteriously vanish, leading Bucciarati to suspect someone has sneaked onto the yacht and is targeting him for the fortune. Giorno deduces that the others are still alive and acts as bait to lure out the enemy Stand, prompting Abbacchio, who initially distrusted Giorno, to bring out his own Stand.

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba EP#07 - Muzan Kibutsuji: Tanjiro enters the demons' swamp to fight two of them, while Nezuko protects Kazumi and the human girl from the other. Although the air is thin and the swamp is dark, his Water Style shows its true power when underwater, allowing him to create a whirlpool that eviscerates the two and return quickly to the surface. The siblings confront the final demon, who has been severely injured, and Tanjiro demands that he tell him anything about Muzan, causing the demon to become completely terrified, shocking Tanjiro. Nezuko falls asleep after her battle and returns to her box as Tanjiro comforts the devastated Kazumi and returns Satoko's hair ribbon he found in the swamp. Kazumi is in grief at first, but after realising that Tanjiro had gone through something similar, apologises. Tanjiro journeys to Asakusa per his Kasugai crow's directions, and to his horror, locates Muzan living in disguise as the father of a human family by following his scent. Muzan, recognising that Tanjiro is from the Demon Slayer Corps, casually slices the neck of a passerby, turning him into a demon.

One-Punch Man 2 EP#07 (19) - The S Class Heroes: Child Emperor (S Class Hero Rank 5) uses his robot Underdog Man No. 22 to analyze a monster named Eyesight's poisons to find a cure for the paralysis. Child Emperor then proceeds to detonate Underdog Man when it's near Eyesight, but that did not successfully kill her as she hardened her skin. Eyesight then manages to find Child Emperor, but is interrupted and eaten by Pig God (S Class Hero Rank 10). Pig God decides to go after the other monsters in Y-City afterwards. Garou tries to go after Watchdog Man (S Class Hero Rank 12), but a monster beats him to it. Drive Knight (S Class Hero Rank 9) interrogates a monster he spared after killing the others. Death Gatling (Class A Hero Rank 8) gathers other heroes to fight Hundred Eyes Octopus, but Flashy Flash (S Class Hero Rank 13) arrives and grievously wounds it with his incredible speed. Right when Flashy Flash is about to unleash his final move, Tatsumaki (S Class Hero Rank 2) arrives and kills Hundred Eyes Octopus with ease, berating Flashy Flash for being too slow before leaving, but not before Flash insults her back. Amai Mask kills monsters in his concert and Mumen Rider and Tank Top Master defeat monsters in the hospital. Atomic Samurai attends a meeting with the Council of Swordsmasters (Nichirin, Amahare, Zanbai, and Haragiri) to discuss the Garou problem. Haragiri reveals that he has sided with the Monster Association, and gives the sword masters 3 monster cells which will amplify their strength, speed and skill at the cost of their humanity and turning them into monsters. Haragiri tries to kill Atomic Samurai (as Atomic Samurai is too much of a threat). but Atomic Samurai slays Haragiri before leaving with his disciples (Bushidrill, Iaian and Okamaitachi) to find the Monster Association base. Meanwhile in the Super Fight Tournament, Saitama defeats Sourface and Choze before facing off against Suiryu in the finals, with Suiryu promising to show Saitama what martial arts are all about. During the fight Suiryu begins to express his disdain about the hero lifestyle, and tries to persuade Saitama not to become a hero since it is pointless and boring to do heroic justice and save the day. Instead, Suiryu remarks that people with great strength such as Saitama should seek thrills, just like him before he kicks Saitama in the head. Angered and annoyed, Saitama lets the kick connect, knocking the wig off his head. Finally exposed, Saitama throws a short range punch while exclaiming that if Suiryu's goal is to seek fun, he shouldn't try to make himself stronger than he is currently. However, Saitama restrains his punch before it hits Suiryu, which creates a powerful shock wave that blows off Suiryu's clothes, exposing his muscular body and leaving him in a state of deep shock. Despite Saitama being disqualified, Suiryu still attacks Saitama in anger, even using his final attack (Void Phoenix Ascension Fist). Saitama is unfazed by the assault. When Saitama says that martial arts are techniques that make you look cool, and starts spinning around, Suiryu tries to attack Saitama yet again but is knocked back by Saitama into a wall while taking Saitama's white belt, resulting in Saitama's pants falling down. Despite Suiryu embarrassing Saitama with that action, he is still in deep shock that he lost. In the post-credit scene, Genos wakes up from the wreckage, and a monster is heading toward the Martial Arts Tournament.

Dr. Stone Village Games Arc EP#14 - Master of Flame: Magma tricks Kinro into consulting the referee so he can attack from behind and win the match for himself. He then has Mantle throw his match against Chrome in order to disqualify Kohaku, who fails to get back in time. Faced in a one-sided semi-final match against Magma, Chrome uses his own tears with Suika's mask to create a magnifying lens that can start a fire. Needing to buy time, Gen returns and uses his "sorcery" to distract Magma long enough for Chrome to set fire to Magma's clothes and win the match.

Fire Force EP#17 - Black and White and Gray: Shinra is freed from his bindings by Hibana and immediately heads back to the workshop, bypassing the fight between Arthur, Flail and Mirage. Inside the workshop, Giovanni continues to destroy Vulcan's equipment until he breaks Vulcan's projector, which reveals the key to Amaterasu. As Giovanni attempts to kill Vulcan, Shinra blasts his way in the workshop and knocks back Giovanni. Lisa uses her magnet-based pyrokinesis to subdue Shinra, but Vulcan has Iris press random buttons to eject magnetized metal equipment which nullifies Lisa's powers. However, as Hibana was aiding Arthur against Flail and Mirage, one of the metal equipment Iris ejected inadvertently hits Hibana and knocks her out. Shinra is able to gain the advantage over Giovanni and knocks him outside the workshop. Once outside, Shinra finally meets Sho and is overjoyed to finally reunite with him. However, Sho uses his incredible speed to subdue Shinra and seriously injure Arthur. Victor arrives in the nick of time and uses a truck to pickup Shinra, Arthur, Iris, Vulcan, Yu and Hibana to escape. Just as Sho is able to catch up with the group, Joker intervenes and matches Sho's speed and power as they fight. As Shinra and the others escape to safety, Joker retreats, but not before damaging Sho's sword. Yu is taken to the hospital for his injuries as Vulcan agrees to go to the 8th for safety. Victor denies Hibana's claims that he led Sho and his followers to Shinra. At the Company 8 firehouse, Vulcan is surprised to see that the 8th is not like how he perceived the Fire Force to be. The next day, Vulcan returns to the workshop with Shinra and Arthur to visit his father and grandfather's grave one more time. Vulcan tells father and grandfather that to save the world, he will have to break his promise and join the Fire Force.

Food Wars!: Shokugeki no Soma Totsuki Autumn Election Arc EP#20 - The Dragon Lies Down and Ascends the Skies: With the challenge of creating a curry dish set, many of the contestants set off to visit their families and study up on spices during the remainder of the summer. Soma stays at the dorms to try out various spice combinations. The Autumn Election preliminaries soon arrive, and it is revealed that only the top four from each group will make it through to the tournament phase. As the contestants begin cooking, Soma appears to have fallen asleep.

Lupin the 3rd Part 5 Enzo Bron Arc EP#23 - Just Then, An Old Buddy Said Something: Enzo is triumphant about capturing Lupin III, but coldly disregards the reappearance of his long-lost daughter Ami. Zenigata and Yatagarasu take the wounded Lupin and the remorseful Goemon into custody, while Fujiko remains Enzo's willing prisoner, secure in her faith that Lupin will return for her. Although hunted by the police, Jigen later intercepts the prison transport carrying Lupin and Goemon and frees them using a sub-armory of weapons stashed in his car. However, despite the technological odds against him, Lupin refuses to reject his lifestyle as a master thief, and instead seeks refuge in the Grand Duchy of Cagliostro. Hidden below the ruined castle, Lupin turns the tables against Enzo by using PeopleLog to air the dirty laundry of the world's governments. As Shake Handz begins to suffer from the first wave of repercussions, Lupin and his friends initiate the first phase of their final strike.

Black Clover: Elf Tribe Reincarnation Arc EP#96 - The Black Bulls Captain vs. the Crimson Wild Rose: The Midnight Sun members all begin to disintegrate as they too are sacrificed to fuel the resurrection. All over the Clover Kingdom humans begin to transform as the souls of the elves are reincarnated into their bodies, including most of the Royal Knights. Patry declares that the extinction of humans has begun as the reincarnated elves begin their attack. Yami is confronted by two elves in the bodies of Owen and Marx but he manages to knock both elves unconscious. He is suddenly attacked by the elf possessed Charlotte whose blue roses have turned red. As they fight the elf still acts and moves like Charlotte and Yami realises the resurrection had removed all the lingering effects of her childhood curse and the elf is now using Charlottes full magical power as it was meant to be. Sol arrives to save Charlotte but is eventually convinced by Yami to leave with the Wizard King's body. Yami angrily confronts Charlotte for allowing an elf to control her. The elf responds with one of Charlotte's most powerful spells. Yami, knowing the spell could completely destroy the city, uses his Dark Cloaked Dimension Slash to try and stop it. Back in the Midnight Sun's base Noelle and Kirsch prepare to fight two possessed Royal Knights, one of whom is Luck.

#Toonami #Toonami Weekly Recap #The Forge #My Hero Academia #Shie Hassaikai Arc #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind #Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba #One Punch Man #One Punch Man 2 #Dr. Stone #Village Games Arc #Fire Force #Food Wars: Shokugeki no Soma #Totsuki Autumn Election #Lupin the 3rd #Lupin the 3rd Part 5 #Enzo Bron Arc #Black Clover #Elf Tribe Reincarnation Arc

[ettadunham]

A Buffy rewatch 7x07 Conversations with Dead People

aka tales of Sunnydale

We did it, guys! We made it to the last season! Also, hello if you’re new, and stumbled upon this without context. As usual, these impromptu text posts are the product of my fevered mind as I rant about the episode I just watched for an hour (okay, sometimes perhaps two). Anything goes!

And today’s episode is essentially 4-5 different, individual stories connected by our Big Bad. Just overall good stuff.

Disclaimer: I don’t usually do TWs, but this post will probably have mentions of suicide. So stay safe and all that.

I love Conversations with Dead People. It was in my top 15 episodes back when I did a list in 2010, and would probably still rank high on a more current version of that.

7th episodes on Buffy are always big deal, and some are more uniquely so than others. Of course, nothing was gonna top Once More, With Feeling in that department, but CwDP knows how to set a mood and stand out. Starting with the opening titles, the musical intro, setting up our main characters and locations… we’re already breaking from the show’s formula at this point.

And then what’s even more interesting, we stay in these locations. The entire episode takes place in a short period of time, telling these contained stories. Given how much of my enjoyment of any Buffy episode comes from the interactions between our characters, it’s rather impressive then that I love this one as much as I do, given that all the conversations happen with peripheral, dead characters.

These are also all rather different stories at that. Dawn is the protagonist of a haunted house story. Willow is in Ghost for the most part, and Buffy’s flirting with the rom-com genre, as she’s working through her emotions with her vampire therapist.

There’s also a nostalgic beat to this episode, as is the case with a lot of season 7 episodes, but it’s not as overt here. The vampire Buffy’s pouring her heart out to turns out to be an old high school classmate who she can reminiscence with about that period of her life. And in our other storyline, Jonathan is talking about high school too, telling Andrew that he misses their classmates. Even if the feeling’s not mutual.

Ah, Jonathan. You really are the best of the Trio. Too bad that in itself isn’t saying much…

I guess Jonathan and Andrew’s story is the one that ties most obviously to our main plot from the start. And while the rest of them only have their ominous twists and reveals by the end, you can tell that something fishy’s going on the moment Andrew starts talking to who he thinks to be Warren.

You might even have already put two and two together given Spike’s hallucinations. And if you’ve been paying really close attention, you remember the First back from season 3.

…or you’re, like me, watching the show for the umpteenth time, and know exactly what’s up. That’s an option too.

In any case, Andrew kills Jonathan because the ghost of his crush told him to. He really is the worst kind of disaster gay.

Thankfully, Willow is a functional lesbian, and isn’t quite as easily duped. Especially when the First is trying to pull the same shtick on her that it did on Angel.

Have you ever wondered though, why didn’t the First appear as Tara in this scene? I mean, I don’t know if that was ever in the plans production-wise, but as an in-universe choice, there are a couple of possibilities here.

For one, what if the First really can’t appear as Tara? Wouldn’t that be interesting? I don’t even need an explanation on this, like a vague hint at the Powers That Be. It just can’t. No one knows why.

Of course, the simpler answer is that the First knew that it’d be easier to torment and convince Willow if it didn’t take on Tara’s form. It sells this as a punishment to Willow too, as if she didn’t deserve to see Tara after what she’s done, and then offers death as a way to be with her again.

However, that’s where the First goes too far. Willow immediately freezes and realizes that she’s not talking to Tara or anyone in contact with her. Tara would never suggest for her to taker her own life. Not under any circumstances.

If you look back at Amends, it’s interesting too that the First is even trying to use these tactics, when that didn’t even seem to be its main goal with Angel. It wanted Angel to lose his soul again, which is why Angel decided to end it all instead in order to avoid giving the First what it wanted.

Except it was still the First that would’ve won that way. Whether by turning Angel, taking away his agency, or making him give up, Angel would lose.

Everyone has the potential in them to do good. So each time we give up on ourselves, it’s a victory for the First.

But we can always get back up. No hole is so deep that you can’t crawl out of it. And it’s okay if you rest there for a while too, just remember that this is not all you’ll ever be. You won’t be in that place forever.

With Willow though, there’s a lot going on here. Especially if you internalize and interpret the First’s tactics as Willow’s own inner life.

Suicide appears to be the First’s end goal, but it primarily just wants Willow to not use magic again. It emphasizes that Willow’s powers would hurt everyone around her as they did before, and that she’d kill all of them eventually.

Now, the thing to remember here is Giles’ words from the season premiere. Magic isn’t an addiction or a hobby. It’s part of Willow now.

So, in short, we’ve abandoned the drug metaphor from last season, and are once again closer to our good old magic as a gay metaphor theme.

Interpreting through that lens then the pressure Willow’s put here under to once again repress that magic, to avoid hurting those around her, and if not, take her own life is… heavy. That’s way too heavy for this post to be honest.

Thankfully Willow, for all of her inner struggles, knows that she’s loved. And she knows that she was loved by Tara. So she challenges the voices telling her that it’ll never get better, and that she can’t be better.

That’s not to say that you need love to give meaning to your life. You can give your life your own damn meaning. And you will. Trust me. But being open to human connections? Of any kind? That helps.

So, the First loses this battle. But it almost seems like it learns from it too, as it turns its attention to Dawn instead.

The way Dawn’s story unfolds, it leaves a lot of doubt in both the viewer and in her, whether or not it’s the First appearing to her as Joyce. But that’s the point.

Dawn chants and bleeds in order to fight the demon, who seems to hold hostage her mom’s spirit. And maybe part of that is real. The demon definitely seems to be real, and who knows, maybe even Joyce was present in some capacity.

But the apparition at the end, telling her that she can’t trust Buffy? That’s not Joyce. That’s the First, planting the seeds of conflict and doubt between her and her sister.

It’s diabolical, because after everything Dawn goes through in the episode, she certainly doesn’t want to believe that it was all for nothing. That it wasn’t her mother she saved. There’ll always be a part of Dawn that thinks it’s possible that it was her mom, but that also means that that same part will distrust her sister.

A sister that is having a surprisingly light-hearted story among all these shenanigans, but that still touches on some heavy subjects. This is just an overall great insight into Buffy’s character and state of mind in season 7, following everything that happened.

HOLDEN:  “You do have a superiority complex. And you’ve got an inferiority complex about it.”

But how couldn’t she? She’s been put in a position above everyone else, and told to take responsibility for the fate of the world. She was given unearned power, and she had to earn it along the way. She had no choice, and yet she somehow forged her own path.

She had to be the person to make all the hard calls, and now she feels lesser for doing them. It’s like her and Willow’s conversation pointed out in Same Time, Same Place – Buffy wants to be the person who can wholeheartedly trust her friends, but she can’t. She’s the Slayer. She lives in the world.

Our resident vampire therapist points out something else too though:

HOLDEN:  “It all adds up to you feeling alone. But, Buffy, everyone feels alone.”

It’s true too. We all feel alone. But Buffy has an even harder time reaching out, because life taught her not to trust. Not completely. She can only trust herself.

Especially with Spike out there, killing people again.

You know what, guys? Season 7 starts off really good, for sure. Even if there are some missteps. *cough*Him*cough

I just hope the rest is better than I remember.

#buffy rewatch 2k19 #btvs talk #btvs

[anomiezine-blog]

The Cult of the Proletariat

“Because the horror of Communism, Stalinism, is not that bad people do bad things — they always do. It’s that good people do horrible things thinking they are doing something great.”

-Slavoj Zizek

‘But as in all cults, what’s central to the Communist Party is the belief system and the elimination of nuance. From there you’re very slowly led down the road to fanaticism and mass murder.’

– Alexei Sayle

I have found a way to tell apart Leninists (otherwise known as Communists or Bolsheviks in the common parlance) from what you might call the reasonable left. It is not the outfits, stained by take-away and Tippex, or their odour, because deodorant is a bourgeois affectation. Instead it is their answer to one rather simple question: ‘Do you trust people to make their own decisions?” I have never met a Leninist that didn’t say No. An addendum to that might be the question: “If you could have your revolution but it would make people poorer and less free, at least in the short term, would you still want it?” Once again I have never met one that didn’t answer in the affirmative. It is the same toxic combination of misanthrope and fanaticism that you can now see in Brexiteers in Britain, and amongst Fascists the world over. It is the belief that you and your tribe alone have received the revealed truth from on-high, and however you see fit to make that a reality is acceptable. It is the language of a cult.

It’s a word that is thrown around a lot and there are even multiple competing definitions, but it is essential to understand what a cult is if we are to understand the toxicity at the heart of Leninist parties of the past and present. What are the obvious signs of a cult? In my opinion, there are 10 unequivocal signs:

1. A small group of people united by a Utopian ideology (or religion) who stand outside normal society.

2. A dominant leader/s that hold complete power over the lives of its members.

3. An all-or-nothing worldview. “Either the Revolution comes or the world will end.”

4. A cadre or administrative class that directs the majority of members.

5. Gaslighting. The changing of facts and reality to suit the party.

6. Mental, physical or sexual abuses (see the SWP in the UK)

7. The policing of language, opinions and the effective creation of secular blasphemy.

8. The welding of the social and the political. The party becomes your only community, sometimes to the detriment to your family and older friends.

9. Those that leave the party become apostates and are to be shunned and demonised.

10. A uniform. In this case conformity of clothing is encouraged through bullying and mocking rather than an order from above.

It is hard to explain to those that have not experienced life in a cult why anyone would willingly join such a toxic entity. Left wing cults, like all cults, don’t look toxic from the outside. In fact, when you first join you are often showered with not only attention, but with a sense of purpose. You feel that finally you are with people that see the problems of the world as you do and are motivated by high ideals of humanism and solidarity. This is described by some psychologists as the lovebombing stage. It is a very powerful indoctrinating tool and often keeps individuals attached to the party long after the toxic nature of the party has become apparent.

In this I can at least speak from personal experience. I was a member of a Trotskyist party, that shall go unnamed, in my youth and I got a firsthand experience of cult tendencies within the left. All the cliches were there; the lovebombing; the close social circle; shadowy General Secretary; the strict hierarchy; the self-censorship of speech; the pandering to party leaders; the Gaslighting; the blasphemy; and the apostates. I have done a large amount of study of what are known as cluster B personality disorders (anti-social, narcissistic and Borderline) since, to try and understand what had happened to me, and I can attest to the presence of these toxic behaviours within all levels of the party structure. I am not the first to notice the cult tendencies within Leninist parties, in fact a cursory google search will present you with ample evidence of how commented upon this is. It really is one of the worst kept secrets on the left. Yet, these parties still persist and in the case of Ireland are the only real alternative to the parties of the Landlord class. As an Anarchist with a sense of history and responsibility this is exceedingly worrying.

This is not to suggest that Anarchist groups can’t become cult like. I spent time in a certain British anarchist group, that again shall not be named. In many ways it functioned along similar lines to the Leninist party I had formerly been part of . While there was a rotating leadership role, the same small group of people swapped the officer positions, and there was the same narrow mindedness to new ideas. Thankfully there is a great deal more individualism amongst Anarchists and this small toxic group were eventually expelled from the organisation. To some extent cult behaviour is a human failing. The legitimate and noble desire to make the world a better place can easily be perverted by disordered people for their own pleasures. You can see this in countless churches, sects, and organisations of every hue. In the case of political groupings, at least, anarchism has an answer and it is in our very DNA. A distrust of authority. Leninists parties can never be reformed from within given their very inspiration was taken from the mind of an authoritarian cult leader, Vladimir Lenin.

If you have the time or inclination to read about the father of 20th century Communism, you will learn many things, none particularly endearing, whether it be his: accepting German Imperial help in 1917; crushing the Soviets, snuffing out workers’ democracy; the invasion of Poland in 1920; the founding of the vile gulags; the rejection of a democratic vote in 1917 that the Bolsheviks lost; the creation of the brutal Checka, etc. The figures vary, but Lenin’s Red Terror is believed to have killed anywhere between 100,000 and 1.3 million people. The fanatic view of the Lenin towards any challenge to the new regime was published within the organs of the party: ‘anyone who dares to spread the slightest rumor against the Soviet regime will be arrested immediately and sent to concentration camp”. By 1921 70,000 were imprisoned in the brutal gulag system. The authoritarian and genocidal views of the Leninists were apparent quite early with Grigory Zinoviev declaring in 1917: ‘To overcome our enemies we must have our own socialist militarism. We must carry along with us 90 million out of the 100 million of Soviet Russia’s population. As for the rest, we have nothing to say to them. They must be annihilated”. The fact that so many within the left still celebrate this man is stunning to behold, but then again he had the good fortune to die before the experiment of Leninism reached its apex under his protege Stalin. He would order the deaths of tens of millions of his own people, whether through the repression of the secret police or through man made famines, and after World War II enslave the population of Eastern Europe for half a century. And yet, the failure of the Left to ever really exorcise the ghost of the USSR and Leninism is one of our greatest failings. The supposed unique evil of Josef Stalin is a lazy way to avoid the truth, that the Bolsheviks were totalitarians in their very DNA, due to the teachings of Lenin. The USSR was in its origins a cult of Leninism extended to the entire Russian Empire. The Left need to except that the USSR is ours to own much like the right must accept Fascism as the logical extension of their own ideology. There is little to salvage in this experiment and the left should have long ago acknowledged Leninism as the twin evil of Fascism in the 20th Century. Unfortunately, it has not and we are left in a situation where anarchism remains at the fringes and the Leninist parties remain the only likely alternative to what must soon follow another violent collapse of Capitalism.

Any reasonable look at the enormous debt bubble forming around the world can not help, but lead you to the conclusion that a major global depression is looming. The conservative estimate is that there is 420 trillion dollars of debt worldwide. In Ireland we are one of the most indebted countries in the western world. Our debt to GDP ratio is 170% of GDP with some estimates as high as 210% of GDP. Each Irish citizen owes 42,000 Euro of debt. We will never be able to pay that off. This global debt can be combined with the huge wealth now centred in the hands of a very small cabal of oligarchs. Less than 100 persons now own over half the wealth of the entire globe. A vampiric ruling class long ago tore up the post-war social democratic settlement and could give a shit about the long term cost of their greed. As a result, the middle class’s spending power has shrunk to a fraction of what it once was. (Economics 101: the middle class buy the products of the ruling elite. If they have no money, and cannot borrow anymore, a crisis of capitalism ensues. It is that simple!) This makes a major depression almost inevitable, with some recent estimates saying it will arrive by as early as 2021. A collapse of capitalism will in rather short order unleash not only the demons of Fascism, but also the demons of Leninism. If, as I fear is likely, we are in the midst of another era of capitalist crisis similar to the 1920s and 30s, the corrupt parties of the centre across Europe will fall, and the masses will look for answers and alternatives to croney capitalism. At the moment the working class is bearing the brunt of neoliberalism and are looking to Trump, Brexit and the European Fascist right, the Orban’s and Le Pen’s. In the future there is no reason to suppose that some of remaining middle class will not make the same choice. In such a situation, it will seem wise to align ourselves with the Leninists in hopes of preventing another epoch of Fascist authoritarianism, but I would ask all anarchists to consider the old Bakunin quote: ‘When the people are being beaten with a stick, they are not much happier if it is called the People’s Stick’. We have been here before and we know what the Leninists will do if they get a whiff of power, therefore ‘What is to be done?’

Well, surprise, surprise, I recommend anarchism, but not in its current form. These days anarchists are a scattered and clicky sect within the left, rightly mocked for both the black block and its disinterested hipster membership alike. We must accept some of the blame for failing to take advantage of the post-Leninist era of the 90s-today. There were even some signs of anarchist ideas permeating the general left in the Seattle demonstrations of 1999, the occupy movement of 2011, the Arab Spring, and the yellow jackets, but these were to come to nothing. Clearly we have not learned from our own mistakes of the 20th century. Here I will perhaps lose some of my audience when I say that our principles held us back in the past. We were firm believers that ‘the Great is not enemy of the Good’. That ‘pragmatism was defeatism’. We, too, believed in an ‘all or nothing revolution’. Either it was complete eradication of the state and class system or it was not worth fighting for. This did us no favours in the past and it will do us little favours in the future. The world is not as we hope it to be, but rather as it is. Who will our allies be in the times to come? Unless we want to repeat our ancestors mistakes in Russia and Spain, it can’t be the Leninists. Rather I suggest the reasonable left I mentioned at the start of this article: Socialists, Left-Communists, Social Democrats, Republicans and even Liberals have all proved in the past to be determined enemies of the cults of Bolshevism and Fascism and capable of pluralism, though not always willing. It is possible to imagine a society of differing political structures coexisting, and of this being a truer reflection of the will of most people than any monolithic authoritarian Leftism can provide. These are our logical allies, some more than others, but to ensure history does not repeat itself we will have to find a way to both defend ourselves and inspire hope for a better future. For such a pluralist society of state socialists, anarchists, and even liberals, must not sap the hope and idealism of a genuinely Libertarian Socialist Revolution. We will have to walk a tightrope between reactionaries, both left wing and liberal. For without going down another rabbit hole, it was not just the Leninists that betrayed the Anarchists of Spain, it was also their republican and liberal allies. It will not be easy and much like our ancestors we will probably fail, but the difference between fighting for a society that allows differing political ideals the chance to bloom and the totalitarian cult of Leninism, seems a worthy trade off.

#anomie #anomiezine #anarchism #anarchy #article #proletariat

[canadian-buckbeaver]

Down the Portal Hole (ch. 1)

Welp.  This turned into a multi-chapter endevenur... I’ll work on the next chapter later.  @saiyurimai and @the-tinkerbell0522, enjoy! @lina-lines, @nikki-on-edge and @babypizzawonderland prepare for next chapter

Based off a discussion with Sai, and a dream.  OCs and Sonas galore!  

Sai’s mansion has grown in size and holds many monsters and humans.  Friends all alike they spend their days enjoying the sun or working on their own many projects.

But when Gaster’s project fails, they find out that the multi-verse is far more complex than any of them imagined.  How the smallest different decision or coincidence can lead to the biggest difference.

Just off the mainland of the USA, located on the equator line, there is a small, unassuming island.  It is one that not many know of, and the majority of those who know of it, live there.  Only accessible by an hour's boat ride, this little island is paradise to those who call it home.  The island itself was perfect.  Warm and tropical, but not too hot, flowers, trees and other shrubbery grew wild here - shielding the mansion from other, unassuming eyes.  Here, monsters and human's live in perfect harmony, all living and loving under the same roof.  

 Sai and Sebastian first built the mansion many years ago in an attempt to escape the many of the politics that surrounded her home life, and protect him against the Anti-Monster/Demon Groups that walked around unchecked.  As the years slowly passed, the mansion slowly grew, expanding in both size and the number of occupants.  Sai couldn't remember what exactly what caused the trickling of roommates, but she never complained.  She had many friends and mates and was more than happy to share her place with them.  How they all came to live in the mansion, that is a story for another day.

 Despite life in the mansion being perfect and lazy, the occupants never found themselves bored.  The days were never the same, there was always some new chaos to them.  One the day that IT happened, the days started out on just another day for them.  It appeared to be just another normal day at the mansion, perhaps one that was even quieter than usual for them.  There were no meetings with the nearby townspeople, no meetings about selling the energy that the little island produced, nor were there any grocery runs that needed to occur in town.  It was supposed to be a calm, relaxing day.

 The kitchen was an orchestra of scents and sounds.  Pots smoothly bubbled and simmered on the stove under the meticulous eye of the demon butler.  Sesshomaru was, as usual, sunbathing in the front yard, his long white hair smoothly blowing in the breeze.  Edge and Berry were busy working the vegetable garden with the ex-demon lord, Asmodeus.  Vixen and Deacon were holed up in one of the many rooms, suffering through the dragon's heat together, just the way that Vixen loved to do.

 All while everyone hummed and lived and loved, there was a little group gathered in the lab of the basement.  Here was where Gaster worked and experimented, working days and nights on his research.  And today, today he said that he had something to show them.  Something that would revolutionize the world as they knew it.  In the dim light Grillby, Sai, Stretch, Alana and the three babies gathered around Gaster.  The atmosphere was tense, unhelped by Gaster's refusal to answer questions until the moment where "all would be revealed".

 Alana's little orange ears still flattened slightly as she watched the scientist, her entire body trembling.  Her own Gaster had been none-too-friendly with her, leaving her with mental scars that she would be battling her entire life.  Even though she knew that this was not 'her' Gaster, he looked too close for comfort.  Slim and Black were often her rocks, supporting her, but they were currently busy training with the Undertale Undyne. "So when will everything be revealed?" she asked, her glorious fox tail wrapping around her like a security blanket.  As if by instinct, she pressed herself further against the wall when the purple eye lights met her hazel ones.

 Gaster smiled at her, making sure that she could see where his hands were.  That he was no threat to her.  "Very soon, Alana," he told her.  "Just as soon as Bucky shows up..."

 As if on cue, Bucky ran through the lab doors, her curls wild and free, blue eyes wide.  "SORRY I'M LATE," she panted, glancing around at the assembled group.  "I would have been here sooner, but someone drew on my cheeks with red lipstick..." she said, glaring at her mate.

 Stretch chuckled, walking over and pulling her close to himself and Honey.  "To be fair, you did fall asleep on the couch.  What was I supposed to do?  Ignore the perfect opportunity to perfect my art?"  Honey giggled and cooed, reaching out to her mother.

 Bucky grumbled back at him, eyes flashing but took she took Honey in her arms, holding her close.  “You just wait…” she warned him.

 Sai decided not to mention that there was still the faint outline of a heart on Bucky's cheek. It was sort of endearing in a way. "So we are all here," she said, turning to Gaster.  "Now, what is your big surprise?"  Gaster was one of her two fiances, and easily the smartest one in the entire house.  Her other fiance, Grillby, raised his brows as if to mutely agree with her.  

 "Just a moment," Gaster said, clicking a button on a nearby remote.  Apparently, he had decided to record the great reveal today.  With a great flourish, Gaster reached up and tugged the sheet from the contraption behind him.  "For years I have been able to shortcut and instantly appear where I desired to go.  A trait that has been passed down to the eldest son of every AU.  I have long debated the pros and cons of developing this power, knowing how it could revolutionize the commercial world.  Fresh food any time of the year.  Real Japanese green tea at the snap of a finger.  Mail would be instantaneous, no longer waiting for the delivery of cards or parcels.  And health care would no longer be forced to risk the death of vital organs or blood. I have managed to harness the power of my shortcuts and project into this machine!"

 The machine would have been a perfect ring if it did not have the little outposts of lights.  The purple lights shimmered ominously at them, making the entire group shiver.  Made of solid steel, it stood about eight feet tall, towering over the little group.  Sai gave a little whistle.  "Impressive," she whispered, her eyes reflecting the purple light.  He never failed to surprise her.

 "Reminds me of Stargate,"  Bucky muttered, earning a snort from both Stretch and Alana, and an amused but annoyed look from Sai.  

 Gaster puffed out his chest, bathing in their reactions.  "I have run simulation after simulation.  This is pure perfection.  No accidents, no mishaps.  The portal is stable and strong.  Once I am able to better control how much solar energy it requires, I can start commercially producing them, putting them into every household.  Eliminating the need and use of cars and airplanes, the carbon dioxide output would decrease.  Without the need for roads, farms can be built and trees planted.  Global Warming will become nothing but a thing of a past!"

 'He's a little excited about this, isn't he?' Grillby signed to them.  Despite his nonchalant words, his eyes glimmered behind his glasses.  He too was excited for his friend and lover.

 Alana's ears twitched towards the contraption, biting her lip softly.  "Have you tried it out for real?" she asked softly.  "Without the computer tests?"

 At her quiet words, Gaster deflated slightly.  "Well.  No.  Nothing 'real' yet," he admitted.  "But that is why you guys are here.  In front of everyone, I will try out, and prove the effectiveness of my product."  Quickly crossing the floor to a nearby computer, Gaster typed furiously, activating the machine.  With a small popping sound, a rippling sheen spread in the little ring.  The sheen, like the lights, was a dull, flickering purple.  The more that Sai looked at it, the more she realized that it matched the same colour as Gaster's magic.

 "Stars..." Stretch whispered.  Cornel and Ignatius looked at the portal, chattering and babbling to one another in a language that only they understood. 

 Honey shrunk back with a small whimper, hiding in Bucky's arms.  "Me too, Honey," Bucky whispered, eyeing the portal with distrust.  There was something about it that she just couldn’t put her finger on…

 Gaster stepped in front of the freshly-formed portal and addressed the crowd.  "I will now enter the portal.  The coordinates I entered are of the far edge of the Underground forest, closest to the little area where I grew up."  He looked around.  "Would anyone like to come with?" he asked.

 Grillby and Sai stepped forward immediately.  "We will," Sai said, cuddling the little flame-haired twins, "it would be great to show them where you grew up."  Grillby nodded in agreement.

 "Alright. We shall make a family outing out of it," Gaster said with a smile.  Reaching out, he wrapped an arm around both Sai's and Grillby's waist, propelling them forward.  "Watch and be amazed," he told the rest of the group.  The rest of the group looked unsettled and worried, watching as they walked on.

 Together, they stepped over the outer rim of the ring, stepping through the portal.

 The magic felt like cold water, Sai realized as she shivered.  It felt cold and heavy, drawing her deeper into the magical depths.  Still, Gaster confidentially propelled them on, heading towards a tiny light and the end of the tunnel.

 It was only when the three of them stepped onto snow instead of the tiled floor of the lab that the realization of what they just accomplished hit them.  Gone was the lab, gone was the mansion.  A dense forest surrounded them, the tops of the trees unable to be made out in the artificial ceiling.  Birds were singing, but other than their slight sounds, the forest was silent.  "It's so peaceful," Sai whispered.  Corbel and Ignatius looked around, cooing softly, feeling their parents' wonder.  "Wow," Sai whispered again, "you really did it!  You really did it!"  The twins giggled and waved their fists in excitement, following their mother's tone.  If she was happy this had to be good! Gaster grinned and pulled them all in for a gigantic hug, absolute joy seen on his face.  He could support the entire world and make it a better place for their children.  For their children's children!  He would be a hero...

 The crackling and hissing of failing magic popped the feeling of elevation.  Slowly the three of them, the twins clutching tightly to Sai's sweater, turned around to look at the portal.

 The portal sparked and fizzled behind them before dying completely.  Gaster and Grillby stared at the vast emptiness, before looking down to Sai.  Her eyes wide, she clutched the twins closer to her.  "No… why… what happened?”

"I do not know…” Gaster responded looking paler than before.  Grabbing his phone he began to punch numbers into his phone, trying to reach the main computer.  "None of my tests… none of the outcomes calculated this.  It was supposed to be stable.”

"Yeah well, it isn’t!  And now we are stuck here, in God-knows-where!” Sai spat at him, anger consuming her conscious.  Gaster had been so confident in his machine and now this happened? It was the cry of one of the twins that brought her back.  "It’s ok… we’ll find our way back… somehow.” she promised them, ignoring Gaster’s worried look.

Grillby mentioned to the ground.  'Fresh tracks, about the same size as Sai.  Shall we follow?  They might lead to shelter or some way out.’

"Good, someone at least has an idea.” Sai snipped, still angry, causing Gaster to flinch.  Stomping along, she lead the way through the forest, carrying the twins close to her.  She knew that she was being unfair to Gaster, he hadn’t gotten them stuck her on purpose, but she couldn’t stop the venom flowing from her mouth.

They walked for what seemed like hours, the trees blending into one continuous loop.  Sai could feel her patience slowly begin to run out as they continued on.  Grillby, however, was looking everywhere, puzzled.  "What is so interesting about the trees?” Sai finally demanded

‘It’s just… this seems so familiar…’ Grillby signed.  'Familiar but backwards…’

"Backwards?” Gaster asked, now also looking around.  "Yes… I see what you mean…”

"Then could someone fill me in?” Sai asked, more and more annoyed.  The twins were cold and hungry, some shelter would be nice, as would a nice portal home.

Gaster looked at her.  "This is like the Undertale where Grillby and I originally came from, but there are some unique differences.  Like things have swapped places…”

"Swapped?” Sai asked, eyes questioning.  So they weren’t even in the right area?  She was about to ask more when a branch snapped in front of them.  

The three of them froze, looking up at each other before slowly turning to the noise.

The person in front of them was slightly smaller than Sai they noticed immediately.  Dressed in a pair of jeans and a purple parka, she stared back at them, her breath fogging her glasses.

Hiding her brilliant blue eyes and curls.

“BUCKY!!!!” Sai screamed, handing the twins off to her mates and launching herself at her friend.  Bucky stumbled back to catch Sai, almost falling backwards as Sai sobbed into her shoulder.  "Oh, thank stars it’s you!  We’ve been walking for hours and hours!  Gaster’s machine fucked up and sent us to the middle of nowhere and we weren’t sure how we were going to get home, but you seemed to have found us ok, thank Asgore!  The twins are hungry and cold and I’ve been a total bitch and hangry…“ the words tumbled from her mouth.

Bucky blinked and gently patted her back, letting Sai cry and sniff.  Finally, it was only Sai’s shoulders that were shivering.  "Hey now, don’t cry.” she smiled at Sai, offering her a tissue.  "Your face will freeze if you continue.“ she shot that familiar smile.

Sai sniffed and gratefully took the tissue, wiping her eyes.  "Uh.  You’re right as usual, Bucky.” she sniffed, wiping her nose.  "What would I do without you?“

Bucky smiled at her.  "Well, here’s the thing… I’m not exactly sure how you know me, but I’m always happy to be of help,” she said.

Ice froze Sai’s stomach as she stared at Bucky over the tissue.  Bucky… Bucky didn’t recognize her?  But… “How?  You are literally…”

“How curious…” Gaster said, pulling out his glasses and staring at Bucky, eye lights flickering as he scanned her, paying close attention to her cheek.

“hmm…. mind filling us in on what’s so curious, doc?” a familiar husky voice asked.

“and why you guys are bothering our mate?” a slightly deeper voice asked.

Orange arms appeared from the fog, wrapping around Bucky’s hips.  Two tall and lanky Papyruses hovered over her, cigarettes in their teeth, orange eye lights scanning the intruders.  One dressed in an orange pullover, the other dressed in an orange and black hoodie.  "they seem to know you, Buck,“ Stretch chuckled, nuzzling to her cheek, still watching them closely.

"or perhaps they confuse you for someone else,” Bee suggested, kissing her cheek.

#Undertail #poly relationship #established relationship #surface life #w.d. gaster #ut!grillby #us!papyrus #fs!sans #fs!papyrus #edgeberry #us!sans #uf!papyrus #uf!sans #uf!grillby #underswap #sf!papyrus #w.d gaster/grillby/oc #monster babies #us!papyrus x oc #fs!papyrus/fs!sans/oc #past mentions of abuse #ptsd #friendship #monsters #underfrick #monstersona #demonsona #oc #sai #alana

[douxreviews]

True Detective - ‘The Hour and the Day’ Review

“I wanna know the whole story.”

The fourth True Detective episode usually features a big action scene that solidifies the halfway point in the story. The harrowing one-shot sequence in season one. The relentless shooting spree in season two. This is more of a prelude to this season's intense powder-keg separating the first half of the story from the second. It's another way that this new story toys with paying lip service to what came before while contenting itself with being its own thing.

What this does instead is take its sweet time in fleshing out what exactly is going on in each of the three timelines and the states of the characters as they exist within each of those eras. It sets the stage for what comes next in the season, while also being character and dialogue heavy. It also takes more time to explore the themes of the season, which I especially enjoyed.

Racial Divide

The issue of race is finally examined, which I feel the show has been dancing around until now.

I felt it was always in the background, noticeable in the lingering, guarded or just suspicious looks that are directed at Wayne Hays, the black detective in rural Arkansas. I've noticed it from the very first episode. Some people don't realize that prejudice is not always overt. In fact, I'd say a majority of it goes understated or unspoken, in that Travis Bickle sort of way.

The thing is most of the people who regard Hays in this way probably aren't even malicious about it, or would even consider themselves racist; I know people like this. You've got ones like state prosecutor turned Attorney General Daryl Kent who clearly looks down on Hays with this smug, dismissive superiority. Then you've got people like Mrs. Faber who will maintain politeness but always see him as an other, holding that look of thinly veiled fear and suspicion. Then there's guys like Tom Purcell, who'll drop racial slurs in moments of anger or frustration and then quickly feel ashamed; that reaction exists somewhere in their upbringing, but they know it's wrong.

No matter the shade in which it presents itself, there's no doubt it sticks in the craw of men as dignified as Hays.

Or men who aren't, as displayed when Hays and West pay a visit to Sam Whitehead, a possible lead on the one-eyed black man who bought the ominous dolls. Was his immediate rabble-rousing and accusations of racial profiling and witch-hunts just a natural reaction from an old black man who has experienced decades of injustice from white cops, or was it an easy way of avoiding direct answers to the questions he was asked? It's not entirely clear.

The hectic encounter with Whitehead and the other residents of that local ghetto did highlight the nuanced dynamic between Hays and West, which I've enjoyed throughout this season. While clearly a bit of a good ole' boy, West does not seem prejudiced. He even seems rather progressive for a man of his era, region and occupation, given his deep respect for his partner and stony admonition of Tom for his aforementioned drunken insult toward Hays. And Hays, while constantly on his toes about the racial divide between them, seems to recognize West's empathic quality, even enjoys it when West jokingly needles him about this sensitivity. It's another reason I dig this partnership, that understanding between two no-nonsense individuals.

Another character who appears not to be clouded by the resident race elephant is the priest at the Catholic church attended by the Purcells. Although West distrusts him on account of being a priest -- which would make even more sense today than in 1980 -- the man is very helpful in organizing his congregation to aid the detectives. He seems sincere in his assessment of Will and Julie and he hopes Hays, a former altar boy, would be open to confession. Nice guy, but there were certain things about his scenes that made me wonder if he might be involved in what happened to the kids.

Couples Counseling

More personal than societal, but equally important are the various relationships we are faced with in this story. It's heavily suggested that they have quite a bit of bearing on what's going on.

The big one is Wayne and Amelia's relationship. The contrast between their blossoming romance in 1980 and their rocky marriage in 1990 is very striking. We first see that the later stage is marred by feelings of resentment from Wayne and accusations of inadequacy from Amelia, despite the love they still share. After ten years, they've become worn down by the flaws and neurotic tendencies they seemed so excited about discovering at the start of their romance.

The first dinner date between Hays and Amelia was certainly the best scene in the episode. It was very cute, even sexy in a surprisingly subtle way. And their dialogue back and forth was just wonderful. Despite being so different in terms of background, occupation, politics and temperament, there was an instant chemistry that both recognized. Almost like these two people who each claim to have never wanted marriage or kids saw in each other the possibility of a future together in this first foray into intimacy.

Initially, though, there's Tom and Lucy Purcell. A couple whose furiously tumultuous marriage bred an unhappy family life, which may have played a factor in their children's secretive meetings with mysterious strangers and their eventual abduction.

Amelia gains an insight into this as she tries to comfort the distraught Lucy, and ends up getting the feeling that Lucy might be hiding something and ends up getting cursed out by the latter thanks addressing it. Not a very good first attempt at junior detective work, but she may have just unearthed a clue without realizing it. Lucy claimed that "Children should laugh", the same phrase included in the cryptic letter sent by Julie's abductor. Either Lucy was just wistfully acknowledging the logic of that message or it could be that she had something to do with what befell her children. It's still ambiguous.

As for Tom, we get to see the beginning of his and West's odd friendship as West gives the heartbroken Tom a place to stay away from his sad home. It's another indication that West is a naturally empathetic person, despite occasionally coming off as a hardass. Though it might be that his empathy has dampened somewhat in the years since.

It's a shame that the 1980 dynamic between Hays and West doesn't return when Hays is brought on board the task force of the second Purcell case ten years later. A shame, but realistic. No way the dynamic is the same after Hays got the shaft and West became the successful, award-winning career lawman who shook hands with young, pre-controversy Bill Clinton. And the fact that Hays, lead detective on the original case, is now expected to follow West's lead doesn't help. No-nonsense or not, old friends or not, pride asserts itself. To put it bluntly, dicks will inevitably be measured and pissing contested.

Haunted Houses

Now let's get more cerebral. The first season's tagline was "Touch darkness, and darkness touches you back", vey Nietzsche-like. That seems to be a constant theme throughout this series. The ways in which human horror and trauma can have dramatic effects on a person's sense of self and their reality. How they might serve as some explanation of what we see as the spiritual, supernatural and even paranormal.

It's introduced well-enough. Tom and Lucy Purcell feel trapped in their house, the place where the kids, the only thing that united them, were raised. Tom can't stay there, broken by their absence. And Lucy seems to stay in it as self-imposed prison for her failings as a mother. A disturbing situation where the place that is meant to be home feels more like hell.

The Hays household experiences a similar phenomena later, which Old Hays admits. He came to believe his unending obsession with the case infected Amelia and their children, sullying their chances at a stable, happy family. That he ended up cursing them with his own restless demons.

This takes on what could be a more literal meaning as Old Hays finds himself reminiscing on the past at the same time he struggles to beat back the ghosts in his mind. It's an incredibly haunting scene, watching him struggle to grasp the memories of his life as men he killed in Vietnam (and one caucasian man in a suit) close in and hover over him like phantoms, whispering, accusing. And the show has played so fast and loose with the line between psychologically unhinged experiences and what might be darker forces that exist on the fringes of existence. Rustin Cohle had his drug-induced visions which at times appeared to grant him insights into hidden otherworldly realms. Ray Velcoro's near death experience offered a bizarre yet prophetic glimpse into a possible afterlife. Now Wayne Hays' years of multi-faceted PTSD compounded by dementia conjure menacing ghosts from the past.

"Purple" Hays, indeed.

Escalating Confusion

But themes aside, the more concrete plot points are there as well.

In 2015, a dogged Old Hays enlists his son -- revealed to be an Arkansas State Police detective like his father once was -- in finding West to help him remember the details of the two Purcell cases. To my surprise, he tells Elisa Montgomery in their private meeting that the 1990 case haunts him most of all. Elisa informs him that she and her team of investigators discovered that the skeletal remains of Dan O'Brian, Lucy Purcell's cousin and suspect in both cases, were recently found in a drained quarry after he went missing around the time of the second case.

Which is interesting, because Dan O'Brian was already missing prior to 1990.

But Hays makes a possibly huge development in the second case when he spots a mysterious young woman who could very well be a grown up Julie Purcell on the security footage of the store where her prints were found.

Meanwhile, in 1980, Hays and West end up traumatizing Freddy Burns when his prints are discovered on Will's abandoned bike; I'd totally forgotten him drunkenly riding it at Devil's Den in the first episode.

The detectives and feds are drawn away from this obvious red herring when they catch wind of the redneck lynch mob advancing on Brett Woodard's home, who has prepared for this event with a military arsenal that's sure to deliver on the action spectacle we've all been waiting for.

Bits and Pieces:

* “The Hour and the Day” was co-written by David Milch, creator of Deadwood. This explains why the characters, dialogue and themes felt even richer than usual in this episode. Milch is almost as acerbic and literary as Nic Pizzolato, if not more.

* There's a framed picture of a brunette woman on West's desk in 1990. I'm betting that's Lori, the girl he was putting the moves on at the church.

* Hays sarcastically raising his hand during a briefing was another fun little callback to the first season.

* Not sure if it was explicitly stated before, but Kent, the state prosecutor in 1980, appears to have blatantly used the Purcell case to snag himself the Attorney General office. What a guy.

* Black Sabbath has been around since the late ‘60s. Seems kind of strange that a bunch of men in their 30s act as if it’s some strange new thing in the early '80s. Perhaps its mainstream recognition in my generation is simply coloring my perspective.

* During his ghostly encounter, Old Hays makes note of a dark sedan that is staking out his house.

Quotes:

Amelia (1990): Let go of me, Wayne. Hays (1990): Stop talking shit about me! Amelia (1990): Or what? Hays (1990): … Or I’m gonna start crying. Wasn’t expecting that.

Sam Whitehead: And you. How’re you gonna wear that badge? Hays: It’s got a little clip on it. Ha!

Hays: Can we say this was anonymous vandals? West: We’re not going with irate negroes?

Hays (1990): We ain’t doing any of that shit they just said, right? West (1990): Wasn’t planning on it.

Priest: Would you like to confess now? Hays: I reckon I’ll let it pile up a little more.

Hays: Thing of it is, Father, we’re about ninety percent sure that whoever took Julie or Will are one of yours. Priest: I find it difficult to believe that anyone here could something like that. Hays: They don’t exactly wear a signboard says “psycho killer.”

Four out of five Claymore mines.

Logan Cox

#True Detective #Wayne Hays #Mahershala Ali #Roland West #Stephen Dorff #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

[httpmyheroes]

light the way. shouto todoroki x reader (1)

pairing. shouto todoroki x reader

genre. fantasy au, slow burn but only in theory, eventual smut

wordcount.  2577  

note. reader’s an idiot, but they’re trying, also i just really wanted to write something in a fantasy au, and prince shouto is *chef’s kiss* also i wrote this at like four am, so if it doesn’t make sense sorry lads. also this is more a prologue if anything else

— a gnawing thought at the back of your head keeps chiding your impulsive choices, mistakes you would do again fill you with doubt, and as you try to create a new, normal, life for yourself, somewhere safe and without worry you realize it might have been easier to find one if you’d never talked to the crown prince. well, you weren’t known for your common sense, and definitely not for your luck.

THERE’S A WEIRD FEELING IN the pit of your stomach, you begrudgingly acknowledge the feeling as worry, or maybe it was the berries you ate a few miles ago? You remembered reading something about bright blue berries. In either case you try to push the feeling down, hope it’s not the latter— You spend the last of your coin at the market two towns ago to buy the sturdy pair of boots for your trip through the mountains so unless you stumbled upon a particularly rich fellow without any guards around you really didn’t have the money to buy some medicine, and move on further through the woods.

You know the path is close by, and most likely much easier to walk on than the uneven grounds of the forest you’ve doomed yourself for, but you feel more comfortable between the trees, the reminiscent tug of home always pulling you back into the dense greenery and with all the things you’ve repressed and left behind, you allow yourself to at least give into that.

You didn’t know why you decided to head to the capital, well apart from delivering the letter, but you didn’t have a back up plan figured out if that didn’t work out, you’d hoped you would have figured out an answer to that question during your trip to the mountains, but all you figured out was how to climb the side of a ravine. Useful, but not what you necessarily needed, and something you really should have known before deciding to take the mountain route. You could have just taken the main route between Ignia and Caeli, but it would have taken much longer, plus you wouldn’t have been able to pick hopefully not poisonous berries.

You hoisted yourself onto another rock with ease you definitely did not own at the start of your journey ( for a second you wondered if maybe arm wrestling people was a good source of income ), and realized the feeling in your stomach was your subconscious trying to tell you, you might have gotten lost again.

You looked around from your slight vantage point, then tried your hardest to hear any sound from the road, all that greeted your ears was the chirping of birds. Your shoulders sagged.

Yeah, you were lost. Again.

This is why they make roads, you bitterly chided yourself.

With a jump you land back onto the forest ground mentally going over what you would do if you were too far lost in the woods, the last time that had happened you didn't have the supplies or knowledge you did now, you could make a campfire with ease, set up camp ever better, in any and all worst case scenarios you could easily just live in the woods, and these weren't the dark ever night woods that held unspeakable monsters in every dark corner so in theory you would have been fine.

But in theory you also would have been fine in Ceali, or even up in the mountains, or even in the ever night woods as long as you weren't trudging through it alone, in practice however your conscious wouldn't allow you to just take it easy and call it a day, you had people to meet, things to do, rights to wrong— Or whatever Momo's speech had consisted of before you parted ways, you didn't much remember, you'd kind of tuned her out, you still felt a little bad about that.

Before you could swallow yourself too far into self-pity however you heard a noise in the distance.

Immediately you perked up at the distinct noise of a human voice, even though lost you knew no magical creatures dared to wage their luck in Ignia, maybe down in the smaller villages a rogue giant might make their home, but this close to the capital ( you hope you were still close to the capital at least ) you could easily let the weight of danger slip of your shoulders.

You shrugged off your pack as quietly as you could tucking it somewhere between the roots of a tree out of sight and keeping close to the bushes you crept forward. Not the best way to approach a possible new friend, but you'd learned the hard way not everyone was as nice as you, and if you got lucky and it did end up being a rich fellow without anyone guarding him, well you did need the money— Maybe you weren't as nice as you made yourself out to be, but times were tough.

When you peeked through the bushes you found a lack of giants and rich fellows down on their luck, what you did see however was a short man with green tousled hair making pathetic sputtering noises as he desperately tried to pull his foot out of a hole between some tree roots.

For a second you considered leaving him to his fate the last remainder of your common sense chiding you and reminding you this could easily just be a trap, then you saw how panicked he was starting to look and realized no one would be willing to look that embarrassing just to rob some poor lost passerby.

With a sigh you pushed your way through the bushes catching the attention of the now flustered man.

You gestured to the roots and his foot with one hand. “You stuck?”

Of course he was stuck, you thought to yourself, it’d been a while since you’d talked to anyone, you really needed to brush up on your social skills.

His face heated up briefly, his leg twitched like he’d tried one more tug to save his dignity, you felt bad you didn’t care that much, before he nodded sheepishly. “I uh— Y-Yeah— ” he stumbled over his words, his voice an octave higher than you expected. “I lost my footing and when I tried to get back on track—” He pulled his shoulders up as if he wanted to bury himself in the ground. “W-Well—”

“Don’t worry,” you said quickly, taking a stride forward. “Happens to the best of us.”

You glanced down at your left foot remembering your predicament two weeks ago, but you didn’t feel like telling him about that.

You move forward eyes peeking down at his foot stuck in the roots, most likely when trying to get back in balance he’d taken a misstep on the roots and sunk right trough, almost frighteningly you realized that meant he had some muscle on him, it conflicted with his baby face, you didn’t know how to feel about that, so you didn’t. Instead you reached down pushing your hands both sides of the roots where his foot was stuck, you turned your head to him.

“Pull back on the count of three,” you instructed and when you received an albeit hesitant nod, you turned back around and started your countdown.

His name was Izuku. He asked you what you were doing in the woods, he looked a lot less embarrassed when you admitted you were lost through gritted teeth and heated up cheeks. When you tried to ask him if he was doing okay, he assured you he was fine, thanking you for helping out.

You tried to push a little more when he took a seat on a nearby tree trunk, you knew getting stuck between roots could get some nasty bruises on your ankle, but didn’t know how to ask him it without revealing your own short-comings, and since he looked like the type for second hand-embarrassment you decided against it. Instead you told him to give you a second and you’d get him some water, which wasn’t in your best interest since you didn’t know whether you’d cross some running water soon, but you still felt bad about the quick thoughts of robbing him that had crossed you.

So even when he tried to splutter out something about being fine you retreated back behind the bushes you’d popped out of to get back to your pack still tucked where you’d left it.

Crouching down you rummaged for a second pulling out the small flask the pink demon you’d met at the border between the human and fey realm had given you.

Before you could stand back up however a blade pressed onto your throat.

“What are you doing in these woods?” a smooth voice spoke up from besides you.

Your eyes veered next to you to the owner of the voice and you gulped nervously at the pair of heterochromia eyes staring back at you, one silver, one a bright azure, narrowed, distrustful, and definitely ready to make you regret any suspicious movement.

Naturally your common sense checked out for the day at that moment and you answered with a nervous: “Uuh.”

For some reason your answer didn’t satisfy him and he pushed his blade a bit harder, but you noticed a twinge of something behind his eyes, a look you hadn’t seen often as you crossed the continent, you felt your shoulder relax slightly. He wasn’t going to hurt you, he seemed to be having trouble only putting the blade against your neck.

“Answer me,” he spoke. “Why are you trespassing—”

“Shouto!”

The sudden voice of Izuku echoed through the woods as he poked his head through the bushes, his eyes landed on you on your knees with a blade on your neck and a look of panic crossed him as he scrambled forward.

“They’re fine!” Izuku quickly spoke up, he tried to move so fast he almost tripped over. “They helped me out, they’re nice. They got lost!”

Whoever Izuku might be to the stranger, Shouto, they must at least have been friends because without any more questions he pulled back the blade from your neck, but he still didn’t look any happier to see you in the woods.

Then it hit you.

“Trespassing?” you echoed, for a second you panicked jumping up. “Wait where am I? You own these woods?”

You noticed his clothing seemed to be of nobility. The devil on your shoulder whispered something about being able to take Izuku, and you really needed the money anyway, what was the harm—

Shouto however seemed perplexed by your question, he paused for a second looking you up and down bruised and covered in dirt, before he met your eyes again. “You— You don’t know who I am?” His frown deepened when you looked around confused as if waiting for a punchline to a joke. “Who are you?”

You tried to rack your brain for heterochromia nobility with red and white mismatched hair,  and realized you really should have read up about Ignia before crossing the border into it. You scratched the back of your head, face flushing with embarrassment for the briefest of seconds thanks to the intensity of his perplexed gaze.

“I uh— “ You hesitated, you couldn’t really tell him the truth of who you were so you just decided to dodge that question. “Should I know you?”

Shouto shared a look with Izuku, who seemed equally surprised, you didn’t feel like being arrested and punished for being rude to nobility so you quickly scrambled to pick up your pack, and booking it back to the road.

“I’m sorry,” you said swiftly, turning to run away. “For trespassing, and uh— Not knowing you I guess, I um— I just got lost and, you know, just point in the general direction of the road I’ll find it.”

You wouldn’t, but they didn’t have to know that. You turned your head hoping Izuku would help you out before his friend could arrest you for not bowing or something, you didn’t know customs that well, you’d been living in the wilderness for the past few months, you’d forgotten all your etiquette, both by choice and by accident.

Before he could help you out however, you stumbled in your step.

Shouto was the first to shoot forward as you felt yourself grow dizzy, a hand grabbing onto your bicep as you felt your stomach drop again.

“Damnit,” you muttered feeling something push up. “I don’t think those berries were good for me.”

Shouto frowned as he tried to steady you. “Berries? What—”

Before he could finish the question you pushed him backwards and turned to your side throwing up the remnants of your breakfast. Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have eaten those bright blue berries, that one's on you. You were just glad you didn’t puke on either the men near you, that would have been worse, you would have gladly let Shouto run you through with his blade if that happened. You tried to rack your brain on what it was you read about bright blue berries, it wasn’t poison.

Somewhere between coughing up the last remnants of food you’d managed to find in the past few days and pathetically dry heaving, Shouto and Izuku had managed to sit you down on a nearby boulder, fishing out your own flask from your pack and letting you drink some well needed water.

“Are you feeling okay?” Izuku asked nervously.

You groaned, taking another swig of the water, maybe you should become an alcoholic after this. “I really gotta watch what I eat,” you muttered under your breath, rubbing your head and pointed your thumb somewhere behind you. “Unrelated questions are those bright blue berries a few miles back poisonous or just bad on the stomach.”

Izuku looked even more worried, which just made you look up at him with a look of fear crossing your face before he waved his hands. “Not poisonous!” he squicked out. “Just— You know you ate rotten berries right?”

You sniffed. “I thought berries just tasted bad here.”

Izuku looked at you with a newfound pity, your eyes veered to his companion next to him, you were still trying to rack your brain on the name Shouto, with no luck of course. He looked at you curiously, but you could see a hint of concern behind his eyes, and another hint of amusement, which you didn’t appreciate, but at least you were pathetic in a funny way.

“Where are you from?” Shouto asked, suddenly breaking the silence.

You thought fast. “Pretty far East, small village.” Technically not a lie. “Past Ceali.”

Izuku suddenly looked surprised. “You traveled that far.”

You half expected him to add an ‘without dying,’ but he seemed to be nice enough not to do to that to you.

“It’s been…” you trailed off looking for the right word. “An experience.”

For the first time since you’ve met him Shouto looked almost curiously. “Why did you come to Ignia?”

“I’m looking for the prince,” you answered casually, before you realized.

Shouto tensed up, but you were too busy peering down your flask for a drop of water to notice.

“Why?” he asked tentatively, his hand seemed to itch for his sword.

You put down the flask and looked up towards the noble you definitely should not be telling this to trying to quickly cover your tracks and say ‘Just kidding’, but you remember too late what you read about the bright blue berries and their usage.

“I’ve got a letter from the Fey king,” you blurted out. “He wants to make a peace treaty with the prince, but only if the king steps down.”

You paused for a second, remembering the passage about truth serum.

“Uh,” you said. “Can you forget I said that?”

You should have never left the road.

like my work? buy me a ko-fi !

— Thanks for reading !

#bnha #bnha imagines #shouto todoroki x reader #bnha scenarios #bnha fantasy au #bnha headcanons #i wrote this at 4 am #there's a plot here but like don't expect anything from it #it's just speedrun politics #i'm going to be honest lads #i don't know what i'm doing

[filmista]

Big Little Lies

“I read a quote once that said...friendships are the masterpieces of nature.”

I normally don’t review shows, but I enjoyed this so much and it touched me in a way that demanded that I speak about it, It doesn’t often happen that as a woman I’m touched by a show almost solely about women (and in this case what’s classically seen as their “ female issues”, in fact, I don’t think there has been a show like that ever), because as I’m sure someone somewhere in the golden state might have said: “Who would want to see that boring shit?”

Because every so often I end up finding the characters too shallow but now that it did happen, I had to talk about it. I figure there’s a first time for everything, so here it goes, these are my thoughts on Big Little Lies: (please be kind, since I’ve just lost my tv show reviewing virginity) ;)

Big Little Lies’s trailer doesn’t do it justice: it’s visually pleasing, tempting snippets, set to a pleasant beat, it looks stunning, but does it makes sense? For me, it didn’t really give me much of an idea of what the show is about.

Still, after I had heard good things about the show, I wanted to watch it. The first episode disappointed me a little bit initially, it looked simply like a spin on Desperate Housewives, but with murder. Women and their perhaps potentially lethal catfights and backstabbing, someone in the show even goes as far as to say: “I believe women are chemically incapable of forgiveness” and it is often said that women remember everything, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned right?…

But by the end of the show I was glad to see that it had gone beyond that and didn’t limit itself to dishy catfights over hot, muscular men and mommy wars, at the end of that first episode we see the three main women bond and you see a strong friendship form, but I was distrustful, beautiful female friendship doesn’t last long in tv land does it?

Surely a big crisis and meltdown of their friendship would come and nasty catfights would follow, fortunately, this does not arrive and the friendship becomes even tighter.

I found it incredibly satisfying to see three so different women, accept their differences, there’s not even an argument made about how different they are, they bond, get to know each other, they offer each other unwavering emotional support.

There are fun times to be had Our trio: part time working mom Madeline (Reese Witherspoon), stay at home mom Celeste (Nicole Kidman) and single mom Jane (Shailene Woodley) goes out for cosy cups of coffee in trendy beach bars, but they are also there in more difficult and trying times, It’s simply unconditional love between women and I honestly freaking adored it! Because you don’t very often get to see it, It’s rare that a show has as It’s driving force three women; their friendship and their individual lives, how they perceive themselves and how the world around them perceives them.

There have been shows that have female friendships in them, but they are rarely It’s driving force. It’s also quite rare to see a show with such well written female characters, all initially respond to a type, to a cliche, they are all classified as a certain kind of woman.

Yet while they may to some degree respond to these stereotypes, they accept that they do, but we also get to know each woman as more than a stereotype, they become fully realised persons, each has conflicts, things from their past that come back to haunt them and that have shaped them as a person.

Maybe one of the reasons that some people have the dismissed the show, is that it is perhaps a bit too stylish for its own good: it is filled with beautiful sceneries, shots that are hyper aware of their own attractiveness, we’ve got architectural porn: beach houses with their beautiful terrace roofs and the ever so beautiful ocean views that come with them, and then the ever so hot, rich white people (all Hollywood A-listers, which admittedly is kind of what initially drew me in, I’m not above being lured in sometimes) 

And It’s all set to a soundtrack with immaculately good music, it simply seemed a little too good to be true, usually, when I see a film filled with Hollywood’s most wanted, I become wary surely something should be up, maybe it has a despicable script? But in this case, I’m glad that I set my previous prejudice aside and gave it a chance.

Shows and movies about rich people and their perfect world, that’s seemingly only designed to make you jealous aren’t usually my thing. But Big Little Lies embraces this cliche in a very interesting way: It says look at all the pretty houses and their pretty people, don’t you want to live in one of those houses?

But then it shows us what’s going on with the people in the houses and one thing becomes painfully clear, if you’re miserable, if you’re an asshole, then a pretty house is not going to cure you're being miserable or of you’re having a shitty character.  

But returning to what I had previously said, while I was initially a bit dissatisfied with the first episode, I stayed and became hooked because of the promise of a budding friendship between these women and the fact that all of them seemed to be written so well and I simply wanted more of it.

You discover the character of each and the dynamics of their at home situation in the very first episode, they are almost immediately well rounded and shaped, by the end of the first and second episode, you feel like you know each of them.

Big Little Lies has an extensive female cast and all of them extensively collaborated on it as well, which was for some people a red flag, signalling that It’s only a show about women and their “lady issues”.

All these women, are women that exist, and their problems aren’t discussed in ways that are glossed over, it brings them in entertaining, fascinating also scary ways, they offer a scarily realistic, sometimes shocking of the sometimes harrowing reality that being female entails.

The show is not so much a murder mystery, yes the ultimate goal of the show was revealing who got killed, but It’s really merely an excuse to explore It’s character’s interpersonal relationships, the relationships of the women, between them, their family and ultimately some types of relationships between women and men, and the dynamics between the two in a relationship, in some cases healthy, in some cases downright toxic.

The men in the show are mostly cliches, but they are all incredibly well acted, and that’s what gives depth. We have the asshole who abuses his wife, we have the guy who is permanently chill next to his stressed out career driven wife, then we have the husband who is simply a nice guy to his wife, always there for her, yet while he is a genuinely nice guy, there is also some bottled up anger, he doesn’t feel appreciated enough at all times, he feels as though his wife takes him for granted.

So they all do respond to cliches, but the show wasn’t out to demonise them, some people could interpret the show as too overly feminist, as something that immediately makes men the bad guy, but that’s not entirely true in my view, while it is openly feminist, it does it from a very positive angle it merely wants to illustrate some of the issues women deal with, and it shows them in depth.

But the female characters are not victims in a way, we are not supposed to pity them or find them miserable, and while we can admire their strength, It also doesn’t feel like It’s saying look at these badass, strong women!

They are brought to us as multisided human beings, that you can feel for, relate. Their real strength and the strength of the show is their bond, their union, the fact that they protect each other, it shows that the world is easier for women when they are not pitting against each other, but rather helping each other navigate stormy waters.

Instead of wishing the other would fall into the water or push each other into the water and help each other take down personal demons, which in this case results in one of the most beautiful, riveting and most satisfying, and downright wild tv finales ever, let’s just say that a misogynistic asshole gets taken down by a group of angry ladies, (the always cool Zoë Kravitz) has something to do with it as well and it’s pure poetic justice and It’s fuckin’ beautiful!

The show’s strength lies in It’s writing and It’s acting, while the writing in some episodes seems a bit weaker, it always results in an enjoyable episode, due to the strong acting. Each actress and actor is allowed to demonstrate their chops to the full range, all the actors and actresses are usually not actors that do tv work (but they’ve all beautifully adapted to it), and the director of the show (Jean-Marc Vallée) usually directs films, not tv series, and that to some degree shows, the show has a highly cinematic quality, and aesthetically It’s as beautiful as some of Vallées films.

The acting unlike in some tv series does not seem overly scripted and staged, maybe to some extent because most of the actors in the show usually stick to film, they all take their roles seriously and give it their best, and the result is some of the best performances out of their career for the actors.

Reese Witherspoon plays what she has played before, a woman who defends everything she believes in, a woman with a big, foul mouthing mouth (I will never forget the wonderful: “I’m a lady and I’ve never said this to anybody in my life, but I’m gonna say it to you, you can go fuck yourself on the head”) seen by some  because of her never bow down attitude as a controlling, backstabbing bitch. 

Reese Witherspoon has played the woman who never gives up on anything before but who is also extremely sensitive and vulnerable, but here she is given such witty, emotional and sometimes dialogue that’s so sharp it could cut, that she just once again could give a fine showcasing of her talent and reminded me of why she is one of my favourite actresses.

A performance that has been dismissed, I think undeservedly so is Shailene Woodley’s as Jane Chapman, Jane is the single mum with a haunted past that arrives at the town, is quickly singled out as different and becomes the target of a witch hunt. As we discover Jane suffers from PTSD, she was raped and her son is the result of that sexual assault, her character goes jogging by the ocean, always with her headphones on, by means of therapy, it seems, during these sequences we get to see flashes of her past.

That kind of filming technique and a character running off frustration and pain is nothing new, but Shailene Woodley has an understated calmness and elegance here, that conflicts with the stormy battles she is fighting within herself, and Woodley conveys it all to us with an admirable naturalness and transparency, one look suffices to let us in on how she’s feeling.

I think she handled the role of the single young mum beautifully, she showed real love for her son and tries her hardest to give him a good life, all the more admirable when considered that her son was the result of a sexual assault. It’s a difficult role no doubt about it.

And some people claim that Woodley is still too young and inexperienced an actress to handle it, I found it refreshing to see her as something other than a teen with cancer or battling in dystopian worlds and I think she handled it with ease and grace.

And the greatest thing about her character for me was that she ends up in a way being the one that unites the women, at the beginning of the show Jane goes jogging alone after she has confided to one of the women what happened in her past, we no longer see her go jogging alone.

She now goes with her friends, who run off their own frustrations and who offer their own silent support, not a word is spoken and it is not necessary, simply being there is sometimes the greatest sign of friendship.

Nicole Kidman is also a force to be reckoned with here, I hadn’t seen her do much lately that impressed me that much, but this was truly a pleasant reminder of her talent. She has perhaps the most emotionally draining role, playing the victim of domestic abuse.

But she handles it with her trademark calmness, elegance and subtlety, Kidman is the sort of actress whose performances if you don’t watch her carefully, might seem like she’s not acting at all because she’s barely moving.

However, if you watch carefully she speaks incredibly loudly and clearly, just through her body, she does it here again and the result is simply magnetic, as she perfectly captures what must be going through her character’s mind.

Kidman and Skarsgard (who plays her pig of a husband), have a downright scary and harrowing chemistry, the scenes in which she suffers physical violence at his hands and in which she fights back, have an intensity and volatility to them that make you at the same time want to look away because it makes you sick and downright angry.

But Kidman and Skarsgard (who’s downright scary) are so disturbingly good together, that you look anyway. There are scenes here that verge into the not often explored area of marital rape, Celeste appears to be consenting, she doesn’t say no at least not with her voice, but seemingly only because she can’t recognise to herself that if she said no, her husband would not listen.

So in her mind no resistance and letting it happen is easiest, these sequences are filmed in an almost horror like way, they’re meant to unsettle, show the suffering of Celeste, in no way are they meant to be sexy or enticing, and frankly I think that anyone that thinks they are is a bit of a troubled individual…

There are other good performances, especially the child actors do an amazing job, but the three leading ladies are the ones that impressed me the most. I finished Big Little Lies in literally 2 days, which is a record for me even with miniseries, but I was hooked on this.

It’s got everything you could possibly want in a show: Excellent writing, beautiful camera work (the colours and the lighting in this, are the wet dream of anyone that loves to take screenshots), strong performances, smart sound design, a fantastic soundtrack and well-rounded female characters, Big Little Lies will perhaps become to tv what Thelma and Louise is to film and that’s a wonderful thing to see, if one thing I hope that it sparks many more shows that don’t have women stabbing each other in the back, but as friends.

It shows something that I and a lot of other women probably already knew: women can and should help and stand up for other women when they are suffering injustice or unfairness, (heck every human being should) and if they’re not, then there’s no reason they should make each other’s lives more difficult. My ultimate verdict: A  21st-century feminist masterpiece that keeps women and men alike on the edge of their seat! 

My favorite character, even though, It’s not a fan favorite is probably Shailene Woodley’s Jane. She offers such an understated and quietly moving performance. I wanted to include this article because I agree so much: http://www.esquire.com/lifestyle/news/a54268/shailene-woodley-big-little-lies/

“It’s like I’m on the outside looking in. Or, like, I see this life and this moment and it’s so wonderful, but it doesn’t quite belong to me.”

#tried something new: reviewed a tv show :) #big little lies #big little lies series #big little lies show #big little lies season 1 #jean-marc vallée #david e. kelley #liane moriarty #yves bélanger #reese witherspoon #nicole kidman #shailene woodley #alexander skarsgård #adam scott #zoë kravitz #laura dern #television #tv #tv show #tv series #tv shows #tv show review #tv review #tv reviews #filmista

[your-fixof-fics]

Could you please do a fluff demon!Karasuma x Irina fanfic?

(1542 words) (FFN)

Karasuma was looking forward to the school holidays. The kids are great, and he loves his job - most times - but even he needs that break from humanity every once in a while. So with the school break, he had eagerly applied for a leave of absence from his government office, then booked a train trip back to the countryside.

After all, he had a secret. His real home was in a castle in the countryside near the valley of a huge mountain peak, where he has lived for over hundreds of years before he realised he was too bored, and let his curiosity take him closer to humanity. Of course, this was something he couldn’t let anyone know - not even Korosensei - so when at work, he locked that side of him away.

And now, when he finally had the chance to let out his true self, why was it, that he was thrust a sudden extra unwanted baggage. He sighed, sneaking a glance at the blonde woman marching behind him, a small suitcase trailing after her.

He sighed. “What are you doing here, Irina?”

The assassin grinned, “I have nothing to do right now, and since you’re going away on holiday, I decided I wanted to follow.”

Karasuma shook his head, “You shouldn’t come.”

“That’s not fair, why do you get to go somewhere fun and I can’t?” Irina pouted. “Do you want to get away from me that much?”

Yes, Karasuma wanted to say. But Irina has her eyes opened wide, her brows raised, an image of innocence and hurt. He settles for a stronger, firmer, “You can’t come.”

Yet, Irina is stubborn when she wants to be, and no matter how he tries to leave her behind, when he boards the train, he found his seat-mate to be none other than Irina herself. So there’s not much he can do, but sigh and stare out the window as Irina plugs in her earphones and watches some sappy drama on her phone.

They were already off the train, halfway out the station when Irina pauses. “Where’s your luggage?”

Karasuma doesn’t reply, his head buried in thoughts of how he was to explain to Irina where they really were going, or how to explain to his people back home how he brought a human girl with him. So Irina interprets his silence as a punishment for her trailing, and she closes her mouth, forming a pout as she follows him into a car.

She notices the long stare from the suited man in the driver’s seat, but she doesn’t pay attention to it, glancing out the window, instead, to take in the view of Japan’s countryside. The drive is long, and she soon drifts off as they drive closer to the mountains.

Karasuma stares at the closed lids of the blonde woman, and half wonders if he should stop the car and leave her there, but he knows they are too close to demon territory for her to be safe all alone. He sees it in the way his driver keeps trying to meet his eye from the car mirror that he has a lot of explaining to do, but he doesn’t really have words for how this came to be either.

When did it become so hard to say no, to this spoilt little assassin?

He rouses Irina awake when they arrive, after having sent his driver away first. The blonde sits up eagerly, almost bumping her head onto the roof of the car, and he has to grab her wrist to delay her from racing outside.

“Wait,” he said. “It’s not too late to turn back - I’ll drive you back to the station.”

Irina turns back to him, her head tilted sideways, “Why?”

He sighed, “Perhaps you’ll find out soon. If we’re doing this - then stay close to me at all times.”

Irina blushed a little, as she nodded her head eagerly. “Alright!”

He wrapped an arm around Irina’s shoulder as they approached the front of his mansion. He glanced up at the building of his fellow demons, and felt their presence. Their hunger and their curiosity shot through him, but he pushed them all away and guided Irina to the door.

“Irina, if I tell you we’re about to walk into a den of demons, will you believe me?” He saw the flicker of confusion in Irina’s eyes, then the distrust that crawled through her mind. “If I tell you these are brothers, do you think you can still trust me?”

“What kind of joke is this?” She shrank away, and Karasuma realised how stupid he must be sounding at that moment.

Karasuma shrugged. “You’ll see.” He took Irina’s arm again as he pushed open the large entrance door. “Welcome, to the gates to the underworld.”

He feels Irina’s fidget as they step into the mansion, into the dark foyer lit only by a few candles. From the shadows, people emerge, their eyes a soft, glowing red. It’s the only thing that marks them different to a normal human, and Karasuma is grateful for their considerate form.

“This has to be some trick,” Irina scowled, pushing away from Karasuma. She walked towards the crowds, but they shrink away, keeping a distance. This crowd here were the servants of the castle, and at least they knew to keep a level of politeness.

The other, higher-class demons, were not so considerate.

They came, racing down in hoards, also in human form, but not bothering to hide their True Shadows, revealing grotesque, inhumane, silhouettes. Karasuma heard the sudden intake of breath from Irina, and watched the way she stepped back reveal all her fears that overpower her disbelief.

Karasuma reached her first. He grabbed her hand and led her round the corner before the other demons arrive, hushing her with a look before leading her to his old room. Facing the door as he closed it, he feared to turn around and face Irina. Will there be disgust and fear in her eyes?

Silence dominated the room for a long moment, until Karasuma reluctantly turns back to Irina. She’s seated on his double bed, her eyes wide as she stares back at him.

“The whole demon thing, it wasn’t a joke,” Karasuma rubbed his forehead. “This is why you shouldn’t have come with me.”

He took a step toward her, and felt his heart drop when she flinched. He scratched his head, “Please don’t be scared.”

“Are you going to kill me for this?” Irina’s demands, “Why did you let me come?”

It’s a good question - why did he passively let Irina come here. But at least he knows how to answer the first question. He shook his head, “Please, Irina, it’s okay you know. This… isn’t an important secret as long as it doesn’t get let out into the world. But even if you tell, I doubt anyone would believe you anyway.”

“Can I still trust you?” Irina’s eyes were narrowed.

“Of course,” Karasuma replied immediately. “I let you into my deepest secret, didn’t I?”

Irina nodded slowly, her shoulders finally relaxing as she looked back up into Karasuma’s eyes. “So, I guess I’ll just have to get used to everything,” she smiled wryly. “This is definitely a different holiday than I expected, but at least my life’s not in danger, right?”

Karasuma froze, “It’s true that most demons feast on human souls, but there is a way I can protect you from that.”

“How?” Irina jumped up. “You  better not let me die in a creepy place like this.”

“I’d have to mark you as mine,” he replied.

He waited until Irina looked into his eyes before he stepped forward, cupping her face in his hands. He answers her unvoiced request for clarification by lowering his face level with hers, then his lips are on hers.

When he moves away, he finds it a little hard to meet her eyes. “It means you’re under my protection now, no one can touch you without my permission.”

Irina doesn’t say anything, just steps back towards the bed.

“I’m sorry,” Karasuma said after a while, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry I thought you’d be able to take in all of this - I’ll take you back to Tokyo tomorrow.”

“No.” Irina’s eyes flashed with determination. “You can’t get rid of me this easily, I came because I wanted to find out more about you. And this may not be what I expected, but if I lose this chance, then I’ll never find out more about you anymore.” She grinned, “Plus, in human terms, I’m not just under your protection - it means I’m your woman now. So treat me like one.”

Karasuma raised his brows at her insistence to stay. But a part of him wasn’t surprised. After all, isn’t this the reason why he let her come? Because a part of him knew all along that he could introduce Irina to an inner part of him, and trust her with his secrets as she will have to trust her life with him.

He sighed once, then extended a hand to her. “Shall I show you around my home?”

She smiled and nodded.

#assclass #assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #karasuma x irina #karasuma tadaomi #Irina Jelavic #fanfic #request #admin gigglepud

[essaysbyalexa]

The Feminine State

          Macbeth, a play about a Scottish king whose exceptionally short rule is bookended by acts of murder and violence, hardly seems auspicious in commemorating the ascent of King James to the English throne. Yet for all its unsettling implications about Scottish monarchs, Macbeth succeeds in questioning the role of the feminine in the body politic, effectively unseating the deceased Queen Elizabeth in order to make way for a new male lineage. Throughout the play, feminine power is portrayed as a chaotic and contradictory force that cannot be defined, only feared. Lady Macbeth’s embodiment of paradoxical womanhood serves to affirm King James’ right to the crown by dismissing the validity of female rule, and therefore the rule of his predecessor.

          Macbeth’s susceptibility to his wife’s suggestion is somehow less heinous than Lady Macbeth’s ability to persuade her husband into committing regicide, with the former seen as a characteristic of human weakness and the latter as evidence of feminine treachery. While Macbeth himself contemplated killing Duncan after seeing the witches’ first prophecy come true (albeit with hesitation and fear), the play often emphasizes Lady Macbeth’s murderous intentions more than her husband’s actual acts of violence. Upon reading Macbeth’s letter, Lady Macbeth immediately laments that he “wouldst be great, / Art not without ambition, but without / The illness should attend it.”[1] Lady Macbeth senses the necessity of murder in bringing the witches’ prophecy to fruition, even if her husband is less than eager to admit it. The audience is meant to feel that Macbeth perhaps would not have killed Duncan if left to his own devices, and was only driven to murder by his wife’s repeated insistence. Yet when the time comes to perform the act itself, Lady Macbeth is unable to deliver the final blow, noting that if the sleeping king had “not resembled / [Her] father as he slept, [she] had done’t.”[2] For all her plotting, the Lady never directly engages in the bloodshed directly—a woman is nefarious enough to have men do her bidding, yet too delicate to perform the act herself. Rather than exonerating Lady Macbeth, this distance condemns her all the more, positioning her as an accessory to a crime not otherwise committed. This paradox of malicious womanhood is seen in the witches and witch-like figures within the play who alter the course of events from afar.

          Lady Macbeth, though never explicitly described as such, takes on the role and characteristics of a witch through her acts of monologuing and manipulation. Just as the three Weird Sisters never act directly upon Macbeth and only interfere in his affairs by imparting knowledge upon him, Lady Macbeth enacts change upon her husband through the power of words alone. Wishing to “chastise with the valour of [her] tongue / All that impedes [Macbeth] from the golden round,”[3] the Lady remains physically removed from most of the play’s violence while orchestrating her husband’s actions through mere language. Language was deemed a dangerous weapon in the hands (or mouth) of a woman, and women themselves potential tools of devilish forces. However, more than simply replicating the rhetoric of witchcraft with intense scolding, Lady Macbeth arguably performs (or at least attempts) actual witchcraft when she invokes the power of “you spirits / That tend on mortal thoughts.”[4] Even though such a ritual was directed only at her own self and not explicitly towards a third party, Lady Macbeth’s witchery posed a threat to male dominance simply by exhibiting a uniquely female power. This “performative utterance” would have itself been considered an act of witchcraft by Jacobean standards, as “the very act of summoning demonic powers transforms her into the witch” classified by the Witchcraft Statute of 1604.[5] Her willingness to dabble in the dark arts is evidence enough, with the effectiveness of said arts mattering less than her intent to unlock its promises. Lady Macbeth’s proximity to witchcraft calls into question whether the labels of noblewoman and witch could overlap, which in turn undermines faith in the integrity of a female ruler while simultaneously threatening the hierarchy of male power.

          The close relationship between witchcraft and the pathologized female condition was a tool used to condemn both the feminine body corporeal and body politic. Lady Macbeth’s heed to “Make thick [her] blood” to “Stop up th’access and passage to remorse”[6] is consistent with humorism, in which “her blood take[s] on the grossness and thickness characteristic of melancholy,” a state which would theoretically “impede and nullify the operations of conscience.”[7] However, in “abjur[ing] her womanhood to be impregnated with cruelty,” Lady Macbeth encounters a cessation of her menstrual flow, which brings “further results which she has not considered.”[8] For her blood to thicken “That no compunctious visitings of nature / Shake [her] fell purpose,”[9] Lady Macbeth would induce a state of amenorrhea, and “Shakespeare attributed to her those very symptoms that… contemporary medical books claim will occur when a woman’s natural visitings cease.”[10] Though we have since shifted from humorism to modern science, both heuristics offer biological explanations of witchcraft. During the Jacobean period, witchcraft was attributed to melancholic “imaginative disorders” in which women “thinking to ride the air… were more likely having vivid hallucinations while lying in their beds.”[11] Today, we conceptualize amenorrhea as an explanation for the three witches’ beards, which were a symptom of hormonal defeminization and the “consequences of catamenial retention and stoppage,”[12] both defeminizing the witches and retroactively diagnosing them with an inherently feminine syndrome. In either instance, women’s bodies are levied against themselves as accusations of physical deficiencies (if not of moral failings) in order to uphold male structures of rule. Throughout history the female body has been sorted into “both natural and supernatural categories [which] promised to reveal the hidden truth of femininity, its latent potential for disorder and deception.”[13] Whether witches, melancholics, or amenorrhiacs, women who exist beyond the bounds of acceptability are made sites of bodily scrutiny. They are denounced as abnormal, yet this abnormality is an explanation for the universal distrust of the feminine.

          Even a woman stripped of female qualities upholds the paradoxical and threatening nature of womanhood. Lady Macbeth, in trading her ability to bear children for the resolve to become queen, both secures and condemns the Macbeth royal lineage. While she is ambitious enough to seek the crown by any means necessary (even at the cost of her own fertility), Lady Macbeth is too selfish and short-sighted to ensure that her husband will have heirs. Sripped of the essentialist qualities that define a woman, the unsexed Lady Macbeth still embodies a distinctly female failure in which she “appeals to the maternal to deny the patrilineal… readily kill[ing] Macbeth’s progeny to secure her husband’s succession.”[14] Much like Queen Elizabeth, whose desire to remain in power led to her refusal of marriage (and therefore lack of children to inherit the throne), Lady Macbeth shuns her duty as a mother in the pursuit of ambition. The failure to bear children is still a markedly feminine deficit, a mistake which only a woman could make. The Lady Macbeths of the world always remain marked by their femininity, whether in its presence or absence; even the need to distance oneself from womanhood remains a uniquely feminine predicament. Men remain “unsexed” simply by virtue of existing as the default category, whereas a queen who must continually assert that she has “the heart and stomach of a king”[15] paradoxically ensures that she will forever be measured in relation to her femaleness. Lady Macbeth embodies the fears surrounding female rule, in which ‘properly’ feminine women are precluded from positions of power (and are instead relegated to motherhood) while women who deviate from expectations of gender represent a specific failing of women as rulers.

          Although Macbeth is a play populated by violence, Lady Macbeth is often thought of as one of its most ruthless characters, despite committing no direct acts of violence, save for her own likely suicide. Her language and behavior alone create a character who is frightening simply for being a complicated woman—so complicated that womanhood itself is put on trial. A woman could be many conflicting things at the same time, but none of these things were favorable. By demonizing Lady Macbeth and questioning the role of women in the political sphere, Macbeth helped legitimize King James on the English throne, firmly categorizing the play as Jacobean in both era and purpose.

[1] Macbeth, I.5.17-19.

[2] Macbeth, II.2.13-14.

[3] Macbeth, I.5.26-27.

[4] Macbeth, I.5.39-40.

[5] Levin, Joanna. “Lady MacBeth and the Daemonologie of Hysteria.” ELH, vol. 69, no. 1, 2002, p 39.

[6] Macbeth, 1.5.42-43.

[7] Kocher, Paul H. “Lady Macbeth and the Doctor.” Shakespeare Quarterly, vol. 5, no. 4, 1954, p 346.

[8] La Belle, Jenijoy. “‘A Strange Infirmity’: Lady Macbeth's Amenorrhea.” Shakespeare Quarterly, vol. 31, no. 3, 1980, p. 383.

[9] Macbeth, 1.5.44-45.

[10] La Belle, p. 383.

[11] Roychoudhury, Suparna. “Melancholy, Ecstasy, Phantasma: The Pathologies of Macbeth.” Modern Philology, vol. 111, no. 2, 2013, pp. 208, 213.

[12] La Belle, p. 384.

[13] Levin, p. 29.

[14] Chamberlain, Stephanie. “Fantasizing Infanticide: Lady Macbeth and the Murdering Mother in Early Modern England.” College Literature, vol. 32, no. 3, 2005, p. 82.

[15] Elizabeth I. “Speech to the Troops at Tilbury.”

[clubofinfo]

Expert: After President Donald Trump’s detestable performance at the United Nations General Assembly last week, the New York Times had an opportunity to counter the president’s heedless belligerence with a message of diplomacy and dialogue. What it did instead was publish an op-ed from discredited former ambassador to the United Nations Samantha Power, Obama’s unforgivable appointment and one of the principal arm-twisters that convinced an irresolute president to get behind an invasion of a sovereign state (Libya) on the basis of manufactured lies too incredulous to believe. This unrepentant jackanape had the temerity to pen an article calling on Americans to heed George Washington’s ancient warning to be “constantly awake” to the specter of foreign influence, a prelude to the establishment goal of outlawing foreign media and exerting a stronger grip on the information flow in the digital space. With any Power essay, her smart media handlers make sure that her photo is always a central element of her pose. She perpetually appears in a posture of earnestness, her face displaying a kind of inveterate sadness born of too much knowledge of humanity’s dark side. Her somewhat emaciated cheeks, particularly in black and white photographs, lend her the self-abnegating glow of an ascetic or religious eremite. Having absorbed the image of this saintly spirit, readers then move to her missive. Shuttering Dissent Power, whose presence in the UN was a carmine monument to hypocrisy, quickly summons the hysterical phantom of Russian election interference as her theme. As any good paid propagandist would do, Power tells us we can focus on the technical details of the hacking, influencing, meddling, and manipulating, but we shouldn’t overlook other vile means by which foreign powers ruin our democracy by “aiming falsehoods at ripe subsets of our population–and not only during elections.” Here Power reveals her multiple goals. First, she aims to shift the narrative away from the collapsing scenery of the Russian hacking allegation, since the technical facts now show that DNC emails were leaked by an insider, not hacked by a foreign agent. This is what the mainstream press has been slowly doing for months now, moving the debate from the phantom hack itself to the influence of so-called propaganda platforms funded by Russian government, namely RT and Sputnik, and several thousands bots of unknown provenance on social media. In truth, the majority of the intelligence community’s report on the hacking was forced to point fingers at RT and other sources, which proved nothing but adequately deflected attention from the false claims of hacking. The narrative thus moves from hacking to influencing, a softer accusation but one that will be enthusiastically peddled by the likes of Power. The influence narrative is also easier to sustain, since it is quite possible that RT influenced some voters, though its impact on the outcome itself was likely benign given the extraordinary weight of domestic propaganda that overwhelmed the American mediascape through the electoral season. But RT provides a much-needed counterpoint to Washington media, which all peddle the same caricatures of the world at large, in which America is a shining city on a hill, the envy of nations, noble in intent, a just arbiter of disputes, ever hopeful, yet ever disappointed by the chronic recidivism of ‘developing’ nations. Second, Power seems to support the false dichotomy that some of us are vulnerable and others are not. Those in power have the full knowledge required to separate the wheat from the chaff, while average citizens haven’t got the requisite toolset to the do the job themselves. Not only is this false, as progressive independent media outlets demonstrate daily, but it is deeply elitist. It is also the foreground of her third and ultimate aim: to outlaw foreign news media in the United States that doesn’t parrot the State Department’s shapeshifting of reality. Demonizing the Ruskies Power provides some tasty bits about former USSR leader Yuri Andropov’s ‘active measures’ (as opposed to static measures) in the Eighties. Had Andropov, a smart Soviet who lasted only 15 months in power due to illness, survived in power, the Soviet Union might still stand. But he was up against the tidal force of Ronald Reagan, a vicious anti-communist who declared the USSR an “evil empire” (points for phrasing if nothing else), launched a Star Wars initiative, and explored first-strike options as Mutually Assured Destruction (MAD) dissolved in the cold past. Having dutifully dissed the Soviets, she assumes that Russia information aimed at American audiences is de facto propaganda because she assumes that Russia is an adversary. She sadly relates that citizens get their news from social media more than ever, and concludes that they probably can’t decipher real from fake news without the assistance of “umpires” that, ostensibly, would not teach them to separate fact from fiction, but would simply elide what they judged factitious from the news stream altogether. Power then seconds the Facebook claim that Russia may have spent $50-100,000 in paid media to spread anti-Clinton stories, although the social network offered no evidence. She makes similar claims about Russian activity in Europe. “Russia “appears” to be using the same tactics abroad and is “believed” to have committed cyber attacks and has been “accused” of fabricating stories. The Bane of Partyism The former ambassador, who once rightly called Hillary Clinton “a monster”, comically laments the loss of “mainstream consensus” of the sort that existed during the McCarthy era, when groupthink had its firmest grip on the American conscience. She blames “partyism”, apparently an inelegant replacement for “partisanship” as another cause of our fractured corporate narrative. (Note that ‘partisanship’ is consistently derided and is a pejorative term in the corporate press. Lockstep is preferred.) One can see Power’s fingers trembling as she hammers out the incredulous news that Republican voters’ esteem of Vladimir Putin rose 20 percent in the last two years. (Perhaps here she hurled her wireless Apple keyboard at the wall of her well-appointed DC loft). She finds it “worrisome” that a majority of citizens now question the veracity of corporate-sponsored mainstream news. To her credit, Ms. Power does call out the fact that, in their brief and scurrilous prime, ISIS produced 38 pieces of media a day. All governments and would-be governments will produce pro-government propaganda, Russia included. But they will also report facts. Michael Parenti, in his book Blackshirts & Reds, has a chapter detailing the terrible collapse of social supports in Eastern Europe that immediately followed the dissolution of the Soviet Union and the happy introduction of cutthroat free-market capitalism. Nearly every source he uses comes from American mainstream media. The question is how the facts are spun, what facts are omitted, and what falsehoods are introduced. For much of the mainstream media, the collapse of social infrastructure and the violent suppression of communist organizations after the fall of the Wall were presented as forms of “democratization” by the west. A look at RT will quickly demonstrate that it is comprised primarily of principled Americans exposing the lies of their own corporate media, and providing much-needed facts and insight into the actions of the U.S. government. This is necessary and useful counter-check on the false narrative constructs of the corporate-owned media, which citizens rightly distrust. The channel may be funded by the Russian government, but that doesn’t mean all of its content is propaganda. It should be cautiously approached, just as a corporate-owned venue like the Washington Post should be cautiously approached. But each claim should be received on its merits. The New York Times and Washington Post have truthful articles all the time, but they also produce enormously influential propaganda. We have to take an evidentiary approach to what we read, noting its source, its sponsors, and its context. This is the essence of democratic ideal–people deciding for themselves. But Power thinks we need umpires to make these decisions for us. The Virtue of Skepticism Unsurprisingly, Power proposes what social philosopher John Stuart Mill warned us to question. He said the freethinking mind should be characterized by, “…an extreme skepticism about the right of any authority to determine which opinions are noxious or abhorrent.” We have lacked this skepticism for decades, but it is finally on the rise. Still, we are still often guilty of placing our complacent, lazy faith in the op-eds of mainstream publishers, largely because we think they are independent. The Russian-created RT, formerly Russia Today, is considered to be an alarming propagandist front for Kremlin mischief mainly because it is openly funded by the Russian state, an undisguised concession to the likely slant of its coverage. But all our corporate media need do is peddle its dogmatic rubbish under some private masthead for the masses to buy in. This is the astonishingly low bar one needs to cross to convince the public of one’s autonomy. But nominal independence from the state does not mean genuine independence from capital. It is the corporate sector that controls the narrative in the United States. Power calls out the “bipartisan” nature of the new Alliance for Securing Democracy, a thought-cleansing front established as an unconvincing nonpartisan defender of democracy. The Intercept calls it a well-funded national security advocacy group” that further concretizes the Democratic Party’s alliance with “extreme and discredited neocons” from the Bush era. The group is led by Clinton and Rubio advisors Laura Rosenberger and Jamie Fly, respectively, and sulphurous spin doctors like Bill Kristol and establishment hawks like Michael Morrell, Michael Chertoff, and the noxious Mike Rogers. This formation is a good indication of how corporate parties react when pushed from the left: they try to discredit the left-wing and secure right-wing support. In sum, the former ambassador’s perspective distills to this: social media and partyism have created narrative gaps through which foreign media may slip. This is bad. We need umpires to decide what we read in order to re-establish mainstream consensus. It is bad when people lose faith in the corporate news. We must all be vigilant against foreign powers practicing “the arts of seduction.” This sounds like a lot like censorship and a subtle effort to undermine the first amendment, which few, if any, people in positions of power truly support, Rand Paul excepted. Obama, who oversaw spying on the Republican presidential campaign, prosecuted whistleblowers with a vengeance, sanctioned mass surveillance of Americans and outsourced it when it violated standing laws, was perhaps the most anti-free speech president of the last 100 years. In fact, this alliance is a natural outgrowth of the dissembling Countering Disinformation and Propaganda Act built into the 2017 National Defense Authorization Act (NDAA) and signed by President Obama. Power is a vestige of this regime of control and, ironically for a supposed feminist, shares its paternalistic ideology. She ought to be laughed off the op-ed page. Unfortunately, the papers she writes for are peddling the very imperial falsehoods she pretends to care about. http://clubof.info/