#its best used to justify heat-in-the-moment emotional choices

[zeta-in-de-walls]

Hey guys, eh little ramble about C!Dream.

I sometimes see takes that are rather sympathetic to his character, suggesting that even if some of his actions were reprehensible, his descent was partly due to others failing to reach out and help him. That he has his own reasons and people painting him as the villain essentially forced him into the role. Dream’s suffered too. 

And yeah, you can look into these ideas as an effort to get a better understanding of Dream’s motivations but it’s very easy to fall into excusing Dream’s actions too much or blaming others too much for Dream’s actions.

It’s a tricky thing, but for any action, there’s gonna be some level of personal responsibility assuming you have at least that much power/agency. (There are cases where a character does not have that much power over their own actions. I would argue that Badboyhalo is being heavily influenced by the egg. And there are other times when a character is basically being forced to do something against their will. I don’t believe Dream has ever been in such a situation - his actions in prison might count as he’s absolutely trapped in there with no options. Regardless, this post is only about his actions prior to his prison sentence.) 

Dream is responsible for his own actions.

 -No one pressured him to build obsidian walls around L’Manburg to trap the citizens in forever if they did not do as he demanded.  -No one compelled him to destroy Tommy’s armour every day.  -Or to convince him that L’Manburg was better off without him and to deliberately sabotage his party to make him believe no one cared about him while knowing Tommy was already feeling terrible and contemplating suicide. -Nothing forced him to destroy L’Manberg. -No one made him decide to kill Tubbo and lock Tommy in prison forever. These actions aren’t mistakes made under pressure, these are premeditated plans.

Now, one might argue that Tommy provoked Dream, that he had an irrational hatred for Dream long before Dream actually did anything terrible to him. Dream only became a villain because Tommy and Wilbur villainised him first. Again, this is removing Dream’s own responsibility from his shoulders too much for me. 

For comparison, Quackity tried pressuring Tubbo into executing Ranboo post the festival because he was a traitor. He even said he’d leave L’Manburg if Tubbo didn’t. Tubbo ultimately refused though! Quackity may have been pressuring him, but Tubbo had agency and if he’d actually gone through with it, it would have been as much his own fault. 

Besides this, it also suggests that Tommy and Wilbur were way worse to Dream than canon really depicts? I would argue that Dream did far, far more to provoke Tommy than Tommy did Dream. Dream for instance, griefed a bunch of places and blamed it on Tommy when Tommy hadn’t even been doing anything. To suggest Tommy viewed Dream as an evil villain prior to his exile is also untrue. Post Nov 16th, after Dream had already betrayed Tommy to join Schlatt (plus also having helped Wilbur gather TNT), the two of them sat on the bench together and listened to Blocks while watching the sunset. Tommy didn’t even care that Dream blew up his house. A week later, Dream and Tommy were friendly when they streamed with Lani. Tommy viewed Dream as a friendly rival at this point, and had for some time (the day before the Nov16th war, Dream had helped Tommy when he was in conflict with Sapnap after he’d killed Tommy’s horse. Also after Dream had announced he’d be fighting against Tommy in the Pogtopia war.)

As for friends abandoning him, this again suggests people were way colder to Dream than canon depicts. George was supportive of Dream when he was exiling Tommy. While he didn’t see such an extreme response as necessary, he definitely let Dream do what he did on his behalf. Punz was loyal to Dream right up until the disc finale. Sam built the prison on Dream’s request and remained at least neutral to Dream until the disc finale. 

Sapnap’s an interesting one, he was hurt when Dream declared the only thing he cared about was Tommy’s discs and took offense to Dream’s dethroning George rather arbitrarily and fought on George’s behalf against this. That said, Sapnap was doing this still in the position as Dream’s friend. A good friend doesn’t merely enable them - it’s good when Sapnap condemns Dream’s worse behaviours. He SHOULD be angry when Dream says he cares about nothing but Tommy’s discs and look for an explanation. 

On Tommy’s first full day of exile, Sapnap joins Dream in essentially bullying Tommy, enough so that Tommy actually challenges Sapnap on this. At the festival, Sapnap actually declines joining Tommy, stating that Dream is his friend and he’s not going against him. The next day, Dream never bothers to talk to Sapnap, while Tommy goes out of his way to apologise to him and invites him to be his friend. Only then does Sapnap give up on Dream. I believe if Dream had reached out, he would have had Sapnap’s loyalty. But he did not. 

Perhaps they could have done more for Dream, but it’s very hard to help someone who is burning bridges. Dream was elusive, he let his friendship die as he came to believe that attachment was a weakness. It’s a tragedy, yes, but Dream is also responsible for the breaking down of his friendships. 

Dream was not forced to be a villain, to be abusive. He had friends, he had power. Like every character, he had a choice. And he chose poorly. 

#meta #analysis #dream smp #long post #c!dream critical #tommyinnit #dream & tommy analysis #sometimes i feel like people take the character has trauma thing too far #its best used to justify heat-in-the-moment emotional choices #and even then you want immorality to be condemned and for the character to apologise #its also important to remember agency #i sympathise a lot with tommy during and post-exile because he doesn't have veyr much agency #dream meanwhile has plenty of agency #also tommy apologises and addresses his trauma #sometimes a lt of arguments for dream feel like headcanons than confirmed canon #where tommys trauma is explored in great detail in the narrative

[bestworstcase]

I like your thoughts on how Rapunzel was handling things wrong in “Rapunzel: Day One.” The episode tries to imply that Cassandra is wrong for not sharing her feelings with Rapunzel, but is a Rapunzel really the person Cassandra should be opening up to? Rapunzel never respects Cassandra’s boundaries. Cassandra’s a private person. Rapunzel doesn’t respect that. And just because Cassandra doesn’t want to open up to everyone doesn’t mean that she’s bottling things up.

ok so this is gonna be a long one bc tbh i like. fundamentally disagree that RDO, the narrative of RDO, in any way positions cassandra as the one at fault for the emotional conflict between her and raps.

to digress a bit - while tts is not immune to Aesop Episodes (e.g. rapunzel's enemy or you're kidding me) wherein the characters close out the story by talking about What They've Learned, ultimately i don't think tts can or should be read as a morality play. it's a story where sometimes characters just... fuck up and the narrative doesn't waste its time on hand-holding or spoon-feeding us the moral.

anyway, i submit that RDO is what i'll call a False Aesop Episode. it follows the basic structure of an Aesop Episode (protagonist acts badly -> protagonist learns a lesson) but the lesson rapunzel learns is a bad one. it's like if you took... say, "an apple a day keeps the doctor away" as an aesop, the False Aesop here is rapunzel confidently eating a rotten apple and then being blindsided a few months later when the doctor who kept begging her not to eat food with maggots in it steals the moonstone from under her nose and runs off into the night with her new demon pal--

and that metaphor got away from me a little bit but you get the idea.

#1: constructing the conflict

the episode opens with cassandra. she's training; we see the sword fly out of her injured hand; lance suggests she take a break, and she answers, "thanks to rapunzel's little trick at the great tree, i have to relearn everything using this hand, so breaks aren't really an option."

she isn't harsh about it. her demeanor isn't all that different from her normal self—she even segues into a very typical concern (that the woods are dangerous and they should all be on their guard) and banters with lance a bit.

what this communicates, immediately and succinctly, is that:

1. cassandra's injury is severe. it's disabling. she's either in immense pain or she's lost all the strength in that hand or both.

2. cass is really upset about this, and not happy with rapunzel.

3. nevertheless cass is keeping her feelings more or less in check; the worst anyone could say about her is she's being a bit more curt than normal.

which is to say, she's acting quite reasonable. she's not taking out her hurt feelings on anyone else or being mean or lashing out, and she's not hiding her injury either. the most concerning thing about her behavior here is actually that she's focused on training so she can do her job instead of on healing or resting or taking care of herself.

then there's a pan over to rapunzel, who is angrily watching this play out while venting to pascal. "i get why cass is mad at me," she says. "she told me—" huge disdainful rolling of eyes here "—not to use the decay spell back and the tree, and i did, and she hurt her hand. but if she had just listened to me and stayed out of it, this all could have been avoided! and i feel like we could work things out, but she refuses to talk about it!!"

line this up against cassandra's behavior and spot the differences.

cass is focused on her injured hand. cass is upset because rapunzel accidentally mutilated her in the great tree. that's what this conflict is about for cass; her injury, and how she feels about being injured.

by contrast, rapunzel thinks the conflict is about them not listening to each other. she does acknowledge that cass was injured, but 1. she puts the blame on cass, and 2. has shoved the fact of the injury to the periphery of the conflict. it's not important, it's just a natural consequence of the real conflict, which is cass being mad and petty and refusing to talk to her about how she's unfairly blaming rapunzel for something that wasn't rapunzel's fault.

[i will add here that this behavior from rapunzel is 100% not knowing how to handle guilt and externalizing it as anger, and this thread of rapunzel burying her guilt gets picked up again in rapunzeltopia; it isn't that rapunzel doesn't care that cass is hurt, so much as she's just not emotionally equipped to process these feelings in a healthy way so it mutates into...this.]

and where cass handles her feelings in a pretty reasonable way, rapunzel rants and raves and draws cass as a literal monster with fangs and claws—she's stewing in her out of control emotions and concludes that she just has to find a way to force cass talk to her, which she does shortly thereafter by ordering—not asking—cass to come with her to search for parts to fix the caravan.

#2: the breakdown of communication

i've said it before but it bears repeating: cassandra might not be perfect, but she's a good communicator. in s1 and the front half of s2, she shares her feelings with rapunzel readily and frequently. when she tries to set boundaries with rapunzel, she's able to be clear and specific about what she needs. when she expresses frustration with eugene or her dad or rapunzel, she's very articulate about exactly what she's frustrated about. she can recognize when politer, softer refusals are being ignored and become blunter and more specific to ensure the message is getting across.

the moments when cass struggles to communicate are noteworthy because they're not normal. they signal that she's in acute crisis. think of how her unhinged rant about adira in RATGT heralded a complete emotional breakdown. she clams up in RDO because it's the only thing she can do to protect herself. because rapunzel is an inexperienced nineteen year old who learned all her social "skills" from a manipulative, egotistical abuser and nowhere in the series does that show more than in RDO.

rapunzel knows cass doesn't want to talk about the great tree, so she isolates cass from the rest of the group with the intention of forcing her to talk about it anyway. she's passive aggressive at first: chattering about inanities and trying to bait cass into 'opening up,' and acting vexed and guilt-trippy when she finds out cass brought owl along. she broaches the subject by going "too bad there's not an open-up-to-your-best-friend-about-the-thing-you-guys-are-fighting-about wand, huh?"

then she leads with "i know you're mad at me, but i did the right thing. i didn't have a choice," which... what can cass even say to that? she acknowledged cassandra's anger in one breath and followed up with "but you're wrong tho" in the next. that statement makes cassandra's feelings about her debilitating injury into an argument about Who Was Right.

this is a game that cass tries very hard not to play. "look, if you feel that way, then it's fine. we're good," she says, which is a statement that is not true at all on its face but - what it means is that if rapunzel wants to turn this into a debate about Who Was Right, cass will concede because that's not an argument she's invested in. cass does not want to put her feelings on trial so rapunzel can pick them apart and decide whether she deserves to have them or not.

so she disengages. the sun sets. they camp. rapunzel pokes her again, this time with a more direct approach: "cass, i need to talk about what we both know is going on between us."

and that's when cass throws up a WALL. prior to RDO, when cass is pressed on her feelings, she either: 1. opens up and explains to the extent that she's able (e.g. under raps or RATGT), or 2. flatly shuts the conversation down (e.g. cassandra vs eugene). but in RDO?

"there's nothing to talk about."

"i never said i was upset."

"what makes you so sure that you know how i'm feeling?"

this is cass falling off the end of her rope. this is a cass who spent the last year and a half with rapunzel running roughshod over every boundary cass exhausted herself trying to set. this is cass maybe a few weeks out from rapunzel screaming at her in front of all their mutual friends and then telling her "i am going to make decisions you don't agree with and i need you to be okay with that" when cass tried to open up about her deepest insecurities. this is cass spiraling into despair because she's seen that her best friend cares more about assuaging her own guilt and exerting her authority as a princess than she does about cassandra's feelings.

this is the moment when the friendship dies.

#3: the memory wipe, cassandra's apology, and the false aesop

the details of the tangled-but-cass shenanigans are not super important for the purposes of this discussion. suffice it to say that cassandra lashes out in the heat of the moment, seriously harms rapunzel by mistake, and spends the rest of the episode trying to repair the damage, then apologizes to rapunzel for hurting her. this is, obviously, the correct thing to do when you hurt someone, even if it was an accident.

you see the parallel here, yeah?

rapunzel hurt cass with magic by accident, and then made cass's hurt feelings all about her, blamed cass for the injury, twisted the facts to justify her own indignation, picked a fight about Who Was Right and invalidated cassandra's feelings, and pushed and pushed and pushed until cass blew up and lashed out at her.

cassandra also hurt rapunzel with magic by accident, and then she set aside her own hurt feelings from the argument they were having before to focus one hundred percent of her energy on brewing a cure and keeping amnesiac rapunzel safe, readily admitted her fault, and offered an earnest apology for losing her temper as soon as she could reasonably do so.

if RDO were a true Aesop Episode, this would be the lesson, and rapunzel would of course learn from cassandra's good example and reciprocate by apologizing for the accident in the great tree and her abysmal behavior afterwards—and in a reflection of how cass shared how bottling up her anger allowed it to erupt in a catastrophic way, rapunzel would probably confess that her demanding, selfish behavior came from a place of feeling awful about what happened and terrified that it would ruin their friendship.

but RDO is a False Aesop Episode. rapunzel isn't emotionally equipped to handle the intensity of her guilt, and she lacks the social insight and empathy to draw comparisons between what she did to cass and what cass did to her, so she can't connect the two situations in her head to understand what she's doing wrong. the true aesop flies right over her head, and instead what she learns is this:

1. she was right about cass being upset

2. backing cass into a corner fixed the problem

3. friends really do "just know"

4. being pushy and forceful was the right thing to do.

because the thing is, when cass apologizes for the accidental memory wipe, she truthfully explains why she acted the way she did—she's furious and she didn't want to talk about it, so she held it in as long as she could and then exploded when the pressure became too much—and for rapunzel, i think the explanation and the actual apology get conflated. meaning, cass says "i'm sorry for what i did out of anger" and what rapunzel hears is "i'm sorry for being angry."

and because of that misunderstanding, from rapunzel's perspective her own indignation has been validated and her behavior justified, because she was right all along and cass shouldn't have been angry with her in the first place and now everything is fine--

but it's not fine.

we're not supposed to share rapunzel's perspective here, because she's flat out wrong. nothing is really better and nothing has really changed, except that rapunzel got the talk she wanted and stops putting this intense pressure on cass. so as we enter the house of yesterday's tomorrow, rapunzel is taking it for granted that things are fine with cass, and meanwhile cass is still injured, still angry, still as aloof as she can be without getting rapunzel breathing down her neck again... and then she meets zhan tiri, who gives her everything she needed and couldn't get from rapunzel.

like, to my mind, this is the entire point of RDO, that rapunzel makes this catastrophic mess of trying to patch things up after RATGT and comes out of that mess wrongly thinking she succeeded. the episode is presented through the lens of rapunzel's perspective, but the lines are very wide and i absolutely think the intention is for the audience to read between them and understand the reality that rapunzel has sort of blinded herself to.

#tts #rta #interpersonal conflict......good #theres also a whole separate layer of stuff going on in RDO w the class dynamic #this fight coming on the heels of raps pulling rank in RATGT and all but ordering cass to shut up and deal. like - #in RDO cass is Literally Doing What Rapunzel Ordered Her To Do #being okay with the decisions rapunzel made that hurt her #except that's not what rapunzel wants really. rapunzel wants cass to be her friend #but cass learnt in RATGT that her friendship can't transcend her servitude #she knows now that when push comes to shove rapunzel will treat her like a servant so... she acts accordingly #er #long post

[that-yandere-life]

Steve Rogers

[Thank you for helping me celebrate! I hope that you enjoy, and that it was what you were wanting darling!]

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

All of Steve’s experience comes from back in the day, so he is not as well educated on the proper etiquette of today. However once you explain to him what you require, and the importance of aftercare he will make sure you are taken care of. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Favorite part of his: His shoulders, for more reasons than the fact that they are strong enough to hold the weight of the world on them. Or being your shoulder to cry on whenever you need it, to being your scratching post as he is slamming into you with unparalleled force. However the main reason he likes them the most is because it’s your favorite place to fall asleep at night.

Favorite part of yours: Your lips, in fact he often finds himself subconsciously sketching them in his sketchbook. Loving the words and sounds that desperately fall from them as you two are making love. The incredible feeling of them on his own lips, or even better around his cock. ;)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Inside of you will usually be any yandere’s first choice (including him), but if you are extremely adamant against the idea he would then choose to cum in your mouth. Of course he will make you swallow it as punishment for not letting him cum inside of you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Packs a pair of your used underwear with him in his go bag if he has to leave you for any length of time. Whether he uses it to get off taking in your scent, or wrapping it around his dick knowing that where he really wanted to be had once touched that very fabric. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Yes he does have experience! He is not the virgin everyone seems to think he is. Do you really think that he wouldn’t take someone up on the offer, after getting no attention his entire life? Anyone would be oh so dedicated to helping him make up for lost time, showing him how to properly please a woman. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

The “G-Whiz” which is where your legs are up on his shoulders while he is thrusting into you, holding onto your hips where they meet him. The point of this move is that not only is it a deep penetration position, but also continuously hits your G-Spot. Bringing the maximum amount of pleasure for both of you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Deep down Steve will always be a goofball, sweetheart, marshmallow of a person. While time has hardened him slightly, it’s mostly on the surface level. The Steve Rogers you get is what is within his heart and soul. So sometimes it might be silly, and sweet where the two of you are enjoying each other's company more than anything else. Others are so needy, desperate, and serious that his main goal is making you fall apart over and over again.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Steve is a well kept man, so this would also mean he is trimmed and kept down there as well. Although his happy trail is something he leaves in all its glory, a solid promise for what is to come.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Gets very heated in the moment, a lot of emotions coming up to the surface because he just loves you so damn much. More than he has ever loved anyone, and he truly wants to show you how he feels every time the two of you make love. Sometimes he gets lost in the lust and passion between you and it becomes more about the pleasure aspect, however the love is always there.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Only when he has to be away from you, or you aren’t feeling good. Basically when he can’t have you, he will take care of the job himself.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Everyone knows he has a Captain kink this isn’t news to anyone, he likes feeling like he has authority over you in the bedroom. Maybe a little bit of a complex left over from when he was small and frail, but who is to say? Really likes seeing you try on his uniform though, and attempt to wield his shield. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In the bedroom, because while he isn’t bashful by any means he doesn’t want to tarnish either of your reputations if you were caught somewhere public. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

The smell of your perfume, the one you wear very rarely because it was so expensive you can’t justify using it all the time. The one reserved for special occasions, where you both dress to the nines. The one that will be the only thing you are wearing by the end of the evening. ;)

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything in public, he doesn’t mind in the privacy of a hotel, or home, but he draws the line at that. Possibly a little bit due to how he was raised honestly, brought up to always defend someone’s honor, especially of those he loved.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

The boy can do more with his tongue than just give motivation to others, he can tear you apart just to build you back up again. However he LOVES to receive, and would never turn you down if you ask him. The sight of you on your knees pleasuring him, teasing him, your tongue swirling purposefully around his shaft making him fall apart like the world no longer exists around him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Both, he wants to be sweet, but also fuck you into the mattress. It’s truly the best of both worlds, and he knows exactly when you are ready to switch it up and get off. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Ideally he likes to take his time, but if you both only have a limited amount of time and are too horny to function he will make an exception.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As long as it is within the confines of your bedroom he will try pretty much anything you want him to. Understanding that sex has changed quite a bit from when he was from, wanting to learn anything you are willing to teach him. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Two words: SUPER SOLDIER, he can do it all day ;) (Pun intended) But seriously, he has so much stamina it’s rare that you don’t have trouble walking the next day.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Steve would be fascinated by toys, especially the technology versus the purpose of them. So he would definitely be down to try various things you suggest, or will pick some out if you show him something he is interested in trying.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Steve doesn’t tease, and is most definitely the type to punish you if you tease him. Get ready for orgasm denial until you are damn close to shouting your safe word. Only then would he bring you over the edge.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Average level of sounds, moans, groans, praising, punishing, dirty talk. Nothing overtly loud to draw attention in any way. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Steve is a Dom, in every sense of the word. So likely your submissiveness is what got him interested in the first place. You better listen to the Captain if you know what is good for you. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Thick, beautiful, uncut cock. Above average length, think Adonis level attractive. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Much higher after he met you, before it was hit or miss depending on the moment. Having many distractions, and more important situations to deal with at the time. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not very fast, he wants to watch you fall asleep on his shoulder. Making sure you are happy, comfortable, and feeling safe before he lets himself join you in slumber.

#yandere marvel #marvel yandere #steve rogers x reader #yandere steve rogers #yandere captain america #Anonymous

[nnnnoooooooooooo]

My Ballot for They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They?’s 25 Favourite Films Poll

The following is my ballot for They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They?’s poll for their readers’ 25 favourite films of all-time. It contains a dozen or so favourites, several compromises, and a handful of personally foundational texts.

Seven Chances (1925, Buster Keaton): It ain’t easy to only choose one Keaton. This is one of Keaton’s films with a racist blackface character, which gave me some reservations. Still, this is a solid contender as his funniest picture, and, more importantly, this is Buster as I love him the most. Keaton’s characters were always the most cerebral and lost, keen observers with no understanding. An inability to communicate one’s emotions drives the need to convert it into a physical experience; Keaton inevitably becomes the object that cannot be stopped. His full forced desperation and athleticism, he is a master of locomotion. Featuring the finalization of the chase gag, along with a generous serving of his brand of surreal.

City Lights (1931, Charles Chaplin): Comedically and emotionally devastating.

Trouble in Paradise (1932, Ernst Lubitsch): Lubtisch’s portrayal of Continental aristocracy on the cusp. Containing love, melancholy, desire, rivalry, loyalty, betrayal, criminals, and thieves-- all saved by his grace alone, achieving a rare bliss of comedy and romance. Normally, I’d say that, in a temporal world, perfection exists only as a process, but then how would I explain this?

La grande illusion (1937, Jean Renoir): In the best of Renoir’s films, I find a type of harmony I find lacking in the rest of the world.

La règle du jeu (1939, Jean Renoir): In making this list, I never doubted either of these Renoir films having a place. Now, trying to write about my list, I find myself becoming frustrated at not finding the words to explain why I chose them. I’ve never been a great communicator, and I doubt that’s Renoir’s fault. I think it’s best for me to move on before I start misplacing my frustrations with my inability to write onto the film itself.

How Green Was My Valley? (1941, John Ford): Possibly the greatest movie ever made under Hollywood’s Studio System, and perhaps the closest we’ll ever get to seeing what Hedy Lamarr might have seen in John Loder. More than any other actor, Sara Allgood carries this film, in her role as the matriarch of the Morgan household. This is chock full of great character actors and moments as you’d expect from Ford. It’s the magic of childhood, the safety of the womb, the cyclical nature of a town where nothing ever seems to change, and the devastation of entropy. I lost track of how many times I cried.

To Be or Not to Be (1942, Ernst Lubitsch): This is my choice for a comedy from the 1940s, despite stiff competition from Hellzapoppin’, and the 11 movies Preston Sturges released over the decade. I had the privilege of seeing this at my local Cinemateque with an introduction by Kevin McDonald. I was late, and the audience had already begun to talk back. He rolled, and we were soon laughing before the “projectionist” could hit ‘play’ on the Blu-Ray. My friend came later. It was a packed house, so we weren’t able to sit together. I enjoyed hearing the variances in people’s response*, and the timing of their laughter. Trying to pinpoint my friend’s laughter from the crowd, I couldn’t help but hear our host’s generous laughter throughout the film. What a joy it was for all of us to experience this film together. I guess I haven’t had a chance to share those other movies the way that I was with this one. *A nice change of pace, as this usually makes me self-conscious

Shadow of a Doubt (1943, Alfred Hitchcock): I find Hitchcock’s women’s pictures to be some of his richest texts. Besides which, any film asking me to sympathize with Theresa Wright already has a lot going for it. Alongside The Wrong Man as Hitchcock’s most tragic film.

Brief Encounter (1945, David Lean): My favourite romance, whatever that says about me. A passionate extramarital affair between Laura Jesson (Celia Johnson) and Dr. Alec Harvey (Trevor Howard), told in flashback. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this placed among noirs, but I think this could be an example of a women’s film noir. There’s a thick sense of transgression and fatalistic mise-en-scene, along with an inability to escape, which ends the film on an unconvincing return to safety.     After the two lovers part for the final time, Johnson returns home. Her husband, Stanley Holloway, asks for nothing, and expresses gratitude for her return. However, for all of that loveliness, Johnson has learned that the world is far more fragile than she ever dreamt. The husband is portrayed as a bit childlike, and, coupled with the affably stiff upper-lipped nature of their marriage, Johnson is unable to confess what’s occurred, which only preserves her turmoil. Unable to consummate, sustain, or forsake her romance with Howard, she may find some refuge with her husband, but salvation eludes her.

Out of the Past (1947, Jacques Tourneur): RKO Pictures, film noir, Jacques Tourneur, and Robert Mitchum– These are a few of my favourite things. As a prude, I don’t care to admit that I love cigarette smoke in B&W pictures as much as I do, and it’s deployed here to its zenith, courtesy of Nicholas Musuraca’s cinematography. Daniel Mainwaring’s script, along with Tourneur and Mitchum, use underplay in order to create a heightened effect. Mitchum’s somnambulism grants his portrayal of Jeff Bailey an omniscient cool, which extends to his character’s bisexuality. There’s such delight in hearing Mitchum, one of the best voices in movies, deliver the film’s lyrical dialogue in his disaffected baritone.

The Big Heat (1953, Fritz Lang): Perhaps Lang’s most cynical film? The culmination of all his conspiracies. The law vs. criminals, no longer as separate from one another, but as sides of the same coin: the establishment. Sergeant Bannion (Glenn Ford) engages in total war against Lagana’s (Alexander Scourby) crime syndicate. Those caught in between end up as collateral damage, pawns in their game. Each dismantles the family unit, Lagana disposes of Bannion’s wife (Jocelyn Brando), and Bannion displaces his child, so that both sides can carry on unfettered. The happy ending finds Bannion happily back at work in the homicide department, where they’re informed of a grisly murder. Oh boy, here we go again! Gloria Grahame, a sister under the mink, reigns as my favourite actress in all of film noir.

The Sun Shines Bright (1953, John Ford): It’s not easy to film a miracle, a feat for which I’d pair this with Carl Th. Dreyer’s penultimate film, Ordet. Speaking of Dreyer, if you have 15 minutes to spare, here’s a great video of Jonathan Rosenbaum discussing this movie alongside Dreyer’s final film, Gertrud. The responsibilities and limitations of society. Communities are built through sacrifice, as we give of ourselves, which accounts for the film’s sometimes funereal tone. One’s resting spot as the place to make a stand, but what good is taking a stand if it doesn’t lead anywhere? Our redemption lies not in preserving ourselves, but in guiding the world to a place that no longer needs us. Thus, not a dying world to save, but an understanding that we must pass in order to bring about renewal. Funerals become parades, and parades become funerals, as we walk the strait and narrow path between tradition and progress. Don’t take a stand while the world marches on, but lead us into thy rest.

The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T (1953, Roy Rowland): This is a musical written and designed by Dr. Seuss, which is to say that I think you oughta see it. Still, it’s hard to justify why I chose this over The Band Wagon. I’d probably better enjoy watching The Band Wagon, which I’d wager is Hollywood’s greatest musical, but there’s something about The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T that gets under my skin. I saw it on television when I was very young. Old enough to remember seeing it, but too young to remember more than three details: twins joined at the beard, the nightmare-inducing elevator operator, and a large piano requiring an exponential amount of fingers. This forgotten foundation, along with its Seussian imagery, grants the film a dreamlike feeling. Just as every good boy deserves fudge, every Hans Conried deserves a role like the one he has here, playing the titular Dr. T.

The Night of the Hunter (1955, Charles Laughton): A kid’s film featuring the personification of evil, not in Mitchum’s portrayal of the preacher Harry Powell, but in Evelyn Varden’s Icey Spoon. This movie is so full of indelible images that I sometimes forget LOVE/HATE tattooed on Powell’s knuckles. There’s a dreadful unease from the inability to fully save or preserve Ben & Pearl within a society whose systems turn on them so easily. Their safety is drawn and quartered at every turn, and so Ben & Pearl flee society, finding a guardian out yonder. Still, there’s a limitation to their newfound guardian’s protection. Their angel and their demon sing in harmony; evil becomes instructive to the children’s growth. It’s a hard world for little things, but there is hope. Mrs. Cooper (Lillian Gish) manages to find her redemption in protecting these children while she can. Perhaps we need them as much as they need us. This was Charles Laughton’s only film as a director, as well as the final of James Agee’s two films as a screenwriter. It isn’t right.

Sweet Smell of Success (1957, Alexander Mackendrick): This is my favourite film noir, possibly the nastiest as well. Of course, I cackle throughout the entire picture. Burt Lancaster and Tony Curtis at their bests; the tension between a malevolent god and his jester/would-be pretender played as flirtation, conducting assassinations as though they were composing poetry. Shot on location in New York by James Wong Howe, giving us a view of Babel from the gutters up. Also, I’m just a big ol’ softy for Emile Meyer, who plays Lt. Kello.

Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? (1957, Frank Tashlin): As I see it, this is the best sex comedy of the ‘50s and ‘60s. Tashlin previously worked at Termite Terrace, making Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies, and did a brief stop making Screen Gem cartoons over at Columbia in the middle. After having brought feature film techniques to his cartoons, he brought cartoon imagery into his live-action films. This is a vehicle for Jayne Mansfield, who may have been the most cartoonish of the era’s blonde bombshells, and so it is a happy marriage indeed.

Playtime (1967, Jacques Tati): This is cinema. Ah! Tati, Ah!     Modernity

Out 1: noli me tangere (1971, Jacques Rivette & Suzanne Schiffman): Rivette’s movies feel alive in a way that I haven’t found anywhere else. The films I’ve seen are about conspiracy, games, and the development of theatre troupes: things that exist only in our minds, and are dependant on our cooperation with others. Things get so twisted that you wonder how they’ll ever untie it all, only for the shared illusions to be revealed as a complex series of false knots. I broke my rule with this film, in choosing a film that I’ve only seen once. I didn’t make the time to revisit this or Céline et Julie vont en bateau, my other favourite Rivette film, so I went with the larger labyrinth to lose myself in.

F for Fake (1973, Orson Welles): This is Orson Welles’s most playful film. I love Welles, the personality, almost as much as I love Welles, the director, so I chose a movie that features both.

Mikey and Nicky (1976, Elaine May): Perhaps the most tense and dark comedy I’ve ever seen. May reaches her highest levels of drama here, and does so without any cost to her usual standards for humour.

It’s a Wonderful Life (1946, Frank Capra): I wasn’t sure about including this, given that it’s not even my favourite James Stewart Christmas movie, but what can I do? It’s a Wonderful Life is an institution in my family, we’ve watched this every Christmas Eve since I was grade 6. There was a year or two in the early ‘10s where we might have missed it, but, otherwise, we’ve been devout. This is also one of four sources that laid the foundation for my love of movies, and, in particular, older movies. I hope to continue to watch this every year. It just wouldn’t be Christmas.     Growing up, my brothers and I used to be allowed to open one gift the night of Christmas Eve, which evolved into my brothers and I exchanging our gifts for each other. The first year my brother’s and I exchanged gifts, we happened upon CBC playing It’s a Wonderful Life in a 3-hour timeslot. Filling in the gaps of my memory with ego, I’d say that I instigated our watching it. I was always the biggest sucker for holiday specials, as well as being the most drawn to B&W. It was an instant hit with all of us, and so two traditions were born that night. For those curious as to what year this took place, I gave my oldest brother a 3 Doors Down CD. My older brother got me the Beast Wars transmetal Terrosaur figure. And. It. Freakin’. Ruled.     CBC continued to air It’s a Wonderful Life every Christmas Eve, and we continued to tune in. My brothers and I continued to exchange gifts on Christmas Eve for about another decade, but now my family has a better Christmas Eve tradition to pair with our holiday movie: Chinese food, and, less dogmatically, vegetable samosas. Leftovers become brunch. We’ve watched the movie, I think, twenty times now, which includes one viewing of the unfortunate colourized version, and once in theatres. It’s a great movie to come back to each year. There are lots of little moments, lines, and details to zero in on, and each year I get to internally test and brag to myself about naming and recognizing the various character actors and bit players that pop up.     Still, I sometimes find myself resisting its charms. A couple of years ago, my view of Frank Capra changed. I no longer saw him as the director I had previously thought him to be*. I wondered whether this movie stood on its own merits, or if I was holding onto it for sentimental reasons. I have since settled on this film being a genuine classic.      Another source of resistance is that I’ve never watched this on its own, there’s a lack of an individual foundation to my relationship with the film. I’m so accustomed to viewing films on my own, I think there’s a relief in a taking a private experience, and having it succeed in a public forum. The two support each other, which is part of why a couple of films ended up on this list. However, when it’s a film I’ve only seen in the company of others, I become suspicious of my experience. I believe in the power of cinema when it’s to my benefit, only to doubt it when I fear that it has the power betray me. I guess that I lack faith. *The director I once thought Frank Capra was, I now find Leo McCarey to be.

Doctor Who: The Lost in Time Collection (1963-69, various): This was a last minute decision that ended on a mistake. I ought to have chosen Daleks: The Early Years instead, which has the proper framing of a retrospective documentary. Daleks: The Early Years is a VHS release hosted by Peter Davison, featuring interviews with key people from ‘60s Dalek stories, cannibalizing clips from Dalekmania (another documentary on Daleks in the ‘60s), and orphan episodes and snippets from otherwise lost ‘60s Dalek serials. It’s also one of the VHS tapes that I grew up with, and my introduction to the fact that, at the time, over 100 episodes of ‘60s Doctor Who were missing and presumed lost. This was my introduction to the concept of lost media. Since then, a further 12 episodes have been found, and the number of missing episodes has dropped to 97.      Instead, I chose The Lost in Time Collection, which is a 3-disc collection of orphan episodes and surviving clips from otherwise missing ‘60s serials, not actually a feature in itself. It’s a really nice sampling of the Doctor Who’s best era, and the episodes and clips are sometimes more interesting without the rest of their serial for context. While I didn’t get this collection until I was an adult, I had managed to see most or all of its contents growing up, mostly on various VHS compilations, as well as some clips online. As the deadline for submissions approached, I chose the one I enjoy more, rather than the one that first changed me.     I suspect that Doctor Who was the first work of science-fiction that I got into, as it predates me in our household. My brothers and my getting into Transformers predates my memory, but it does not predate my being around. Doctor Who also served as my first exposure to B&W viewing. I was really into science-fiction growing up, and the genre was really my first interest in older films. The interest didn’t really bridge its way from my youth into my present. Heck, I wasn’t even particularly a movie person until into my twenties. In early adulthood, after fading for a bit, my fondness for science-fiction was more directed towards video games and books. So while it didn’t lead into my love of film and B&W, it laid a lot of the groundwork for what I’d eventually come to love.     My oldest brother remembers staying up late with our parents to watch Doctor Who, and my older brother has memories of trying to stay up with them, but it was no longer airing on any of the stations we had by the time I was kicking. Loved, but unseen, it developed a sort of mythic reputation in my young mind. Over the years, we managed to see a bunch of serials on VHS through our local library system, and we eventually got 5 VHS releases of our own before the decade ended. We got a book, The Doctor Who Yearbook, which had listings and synopsises of every serial ever made. The classic Doctor Who series lasted 26 seasons, consisting of 153 serials, and just shy of 700 episodes. No matter how many episodes of Doctor Who I managed to see when I was growing up, it was only ever the tip of the iceberg.     My younger self liked daydreaming about all of the adventures, planets, aliens, robots, and monsters, but that would begin to dissipate with age. While I loved Star Wars for the many of the same reasons as I did Doctor Who, the advent of more Star Wars wasn’t all that fulfilling, with Episode I: Racer for the N64 PC as a noted exception. More than the fact that I was caught up in the cultural backlash against George Lucas, the lack of a well defined characters and society in the original trilogy was a virtue. The toys and books really capitalized on this. I was the kid that wanted to know every weirdo and background character’s life story. I was such a mark.     The more movies they made that added to the lore, the smaller their galaxy seemed to be, in opposition to an expanded universe. Each piece promising to add to the larger picture only seemed to reveal a smaller whole. More movies telling the same stories with different versions of the same characters. A galaxy that once seemed so vast now revealed to be comprised of maybe two dozen people, many of which are related or connected to each other in some tired and unnecessary way.     Eventually, I got really into Jonathan Rosenbaum, and began to project my ego all over his preferences, to which Star Wars became a victim. I gave up on the series after sitting through a showing of Episode VII. Fires subside, and, these days, I’m mostly indifferent towards the series. Undergraduates can be a bit much, y’know?     While the new Doctor Who series also fell out of favour with me, it was easier for me to divorce it from the original series. Having seen the series only in disparate pieces, rather than a linear narrative may have helped. I have no illusions that the original series is anything more than a silly kid’s show that mostly takes place in corridors, which is a fine thing to be. It’s enough to be a delight. The deceit of nostalgia is that I can return to these works I once loved with the same feelings and wonder that I had as a child.     While I remain fond of Doctor Who, the whole of a serial is often less than the sum of its parts. After all, being a serial, half of the adventure is meant to take place in your head during the week between episodes. It’s the opposite of binge-watch material. It’s hard to commit to working your way through such a bulky series at a deliberately slow pace. Besides, even spacing the episodes out some, it’s still not going to capture my mind the way it would when I was a child. The virtue of the Lost in Time Collection is that you’re never seeing a serial as a whole, only as individual pieces.     The collection consists of 18 complete episodes from 12 serials, with clips and bits from an additional 10 serials. Only one serial has more than two episodes featured, The Daleks’ Master Plan, a 12-part epic, which has its 3 known surviving episodes on the set. Freed from the responsibilities of being part of a larger story, you get to enjoy the pleasures of each episode as its own entity. Charm exists outside of context, and what may have been stretched and strained over half a dozen episodes can easily be sustained in the single episode or two that remains. A piece of Starburst may not keep its flavour any longer than a piece of Hubba Bubba, but at least it has the decency not to overstay its welcome.     The less that remains of a serial, the more interesting it becomes. For some serials, the only surviving clips are the scenes that were cut by censors, and so you’re only seeing the juiciest bits. Protected by obscurity, just as recording in B&W protected this era of the series against its lack of budget, the childlike sense of wonder remains. Any missing serial could have been great. We lack evidence to prove otherwise. What little remains from these serials is enough to imagine what may have been, and it’s easy to give the benefit of the doubt to an old friend.      No longer just a science-fiction adventure, the series has grown into a larger and more engaging adventure in film & television preservation. Thanks to its cultural status and following, questions as to how these stories were lost, why years of episodes were junked, how they were returned, in which disparate places were episodes found, who has been hunting for them, what were their methods, to what lengths did they go, what places remain to be searched, what remains to be found, what’s trapped in the hands of private collectors, and what has been lost forever have all been thoroughly explored, though some answers continue to elude us. For those interested, Youtuber Josh Snares has an extensive series of videos that breaks down many of these questions as best as one can with what’s publicly known, and, despite being on yotube, I don’t think he’s annoying.     Doctor Who best represents my film lover’s sense of discovery, combining the joys of hearing about a film that piques my interest, trying to track a film down, discovering or rediscovering a new favourite, learning about film history, and the efforts of film preservation. Hearing about films I’d like to see can be nearly as rewarding as actually watching the films themselves. The more that I see, the more there is that I’d like to see. The harder something is to find, the more interesting it can become. Film is a physical object, so there is a battle against time for us to discover, recover, restore, and preserve works before they’re lost to time. The good news is that many efforts are being undertaken, both by professionals and by amateurs. The advent of crowdfunding has really helped to create more opportunities for completing these endeavours.     Following an Indiegogo campaign, Netflix stepped in and completed Orson Welles’s The Other Side of the Wind. Many of Marion Davies’s silent films have been restored in recent years. Thanks to the efforts of Ben Model and his team, I will soon have the pleasure of seeing eight Edward Everett Horton shorts that haven’t been in circulation since the silent era. Steve Stanchfield (Thunderbean), Jerry Beck (Cartoon Research), Tommy Stathes (Cartoons On Film), and their cohorts are doing God’s work in finding and restoring old cartoons, and giving them an audience once more. I don’t think there’s ever been a more exciting time to be so out of touch.

The Muppet Movie (1979, James Frawley): The Muppets’ movies were a staple of our household growing up, and this ranks alongside The Great Muppet Caper as the best of them. This movie has a very self-aware humour to it, exemplified by the introduction. The camera wanders through a studio backlot, following a car carrying Statler & Waldorf, who provide us with the first dialogue of the film, announcing their intent to heckle the film. Inside, the Muppets are waiting for a private screening of The Muppet Movie to begin.     It’s a disaster. A monster tears out one of the seats, the visibly deranged Crazy Harry blows up another, people are dancing in the aisles, and chickens are flying about. Objects being thrown include, but are not limited to, popcorn, Lew Zealand’s boomerang fish, and paper airplanes. A full-sized Muppet looms in the background, a giant colourful bird with enormous unblinking eyes, leaning a bit from side to side. An acknowledgement that somebody has let the animals in charge of the zoo. Still, a coziness remains amidst all of the chaos.     Kermit attempts to introduce the movie to his peers, the lights go down, and he takes his seat. The movie opens in the heavens, where the credits and a rainbow appear. It clears onto a long, long shot of a swamp, slowly zooming in to reveal a frog on a log, playing a banjo, singing Paul Williams and Kenneth Ascher’s The Rainbow Connection. We’re taken away.     One of the most vital aspects of the Muppets is that they exist in our world, something that gets lost in their 90’s trend of literary adaptations. An entire world of Muppets isn’t much of a utopian vision, but the idea that these animals, monsters, and whatevers belong in society alongside ‘real’ people is. This trend was part of a larger regression throughout the years with the Muppets. What began as a self-aware humour turned into a self-depreciating humour, and, eventually, a self-loathing humour. The Muppets used to take on the world, but, in later years, they seemed unable to dream of anything more than getting back together once more, so that they could reaffirm their lack of success. Bring them back to life so they can take one more dying breath.     This Muppet movie is filled with celebrity cameos, in part a tribute to their variety show, as well as to the vaudevillian origins of most of their shtick. Here, the cameos serve the Muppets. Later, the Muppets would take a backseat, and become vehicles for others, not even allowed to star in their own movies. I wish they were given better opportunities to shine. As good as this film is, I have to admit that this film’s treatment of Miss Piggy is embarrassingly sexist. While they don’t look like Presbyterians to me, at their best, I think the Muppets have almost as much hope to offer as any religion.

Transformers: The Movie (1986, Nelson Shin): Watching this movie gives me the feeling I always hope that I’ll feel whenever I’ve bought concert tickets. I don’t watch this so much as I sing along to it. I even knew Vince DiCola’s score down to a ‘T’. With all due respect to Storefront Hitchcock, this is my personal Stop Making Sense.

Air Alert V. 4 (late 2000’s, TMT Sports): First, and most importantly, I do not recommend Air Alert nor any other paid for vertical jump program. I cannot stress that enough. They’re not designed by people who really know what they’re doing, the marketing is predatory, they’re unjustly hard on your joints, and they’re methods are not in conjunction with their promises of wild vertical gains. While I hope to stop finding that people have also done Air Alert, I immediately feel a strong kinship with those I learn have also been misled.     Air Alert is a 15-week vertical jump program that makes the dubious promises of adding 8-14 inches to yer vertical leap to everyone, regardless of their current physical condition. It promises to add explosiveness to yer hops, but its means are an exponentially increasing amount of jump exercise repetitions. This is to say that, in practice, Air Alert actually builds jumping endurance, which teaches yer muscles to conserve energy, rather than to expend it in an explosive manner. Like all jump programs, it also fails to address that much of your jumping’s height comes from a combination of your core and upper body strength, as well as technique. The version I got also came with an advertised-as-new Air Alert Advanced, a further 6 weeks of yet more intensive exercise routine to add another 3-6 inches to yer leap.     I did the 15 weeks of Air Alert, and, like everybody else I’ve known, I got 2-3 inches added to my vertical. After the recovery week suggested following completion of the program, I tried dunking at the church. You had better believe that I told my dad to bring his digital camera, ’cause this was gonna be a big deal. Being able to dunk was surely going to usher in a whole new era in my life.     Now, I had been wrong about these sorts of things before. I had become skinny, I got a couple of nice shirts, I listened to what I though was the right unpopular music, and I had stolen some jokes, but my life largely remained the same. It seemed as though my life couldn’t be redeemed by vanity and trivialities, J still wasn’t dating me, but this would be so much more. This was dunking. This was going to be different.     We went to the church, and I had the same problems as before. I could get high enough, but I couldn’t throw down. The further you extend a limb from your core, the less strength it has at its disposal. I had little upper-body strength to begin with, and, fully extended, my hand is pretty far from my body. I’d always lose the ball on the way up, or lose height putting more of my strength onto the ball. Legs can only take you so far. At my best, I’ve brought the ball to the rim, lost it, and, thanks to momentum, had the ball go off of the backboard and in. A lay-up isn’t a dunk. My knees have been crunchy ever since.     After a further month of letting my joints recover, I tried my hand at Air Alert Advanced. After the first week, which consisted of 3 days of 2000 individual jumps, some of my friends reunited to play soccer at our old high school. I was proud to see that the goals we had rescued were still on the field. However, I found that my joints were so worn down that I could only run at a steady pace in a straight line. Turning, accelerating, and decelerating were all, sadly, out of the picture. I decided not to continue onto the subsequent weeks.     I was still a fatuous pauper, single, and working at a shoe store while friends had gone on to do other things, so what did I manage to accomplish? Well, for starters, I gained some athletic ability for the first time in my life, which was neat. I gained a lot of leg strength, endurance, and quickness, as well as the previously mentioned 2-3 inches to my vert, all of which I treasured. Despite being the skinniest guy on the court, my legs were strong enough to anchor me in the key, and contend with guys up to double my weight. I went from being a guy who showed up to Dunkball, to becoming a guy that people wanted on their team.     While others got tired throughout the night, slowly losing their vertical, I managed to jump just as frequently and just as high in my last game of the night as I could during my first. As both the tallest and the lankiest guy at Dunkball, my height advantage now increased in the air. I’d let people box me out, only to jump and reach over them. I felt so free. I was, and remain, Dunkball’s most improved player. Of course, it helps to have the advantage of having started out lower than everybody else. Once, somebody brought a friend who was taller than me. It was awful.     As for dunking? Well, I could dunk small balls at the church, if I could close my hand on them. I managed to dunk a flat soccer ball on an outdoor net at a school yard once, but I never verified its height. I could dunk at the Academy chapel with the rim fully raised, though that rim sags in the front, so I’m guessing that rim was about 9’10”. Still, that won me a game of H-O-R-S-E or two. Sometimes, when warming up for Dunkball, someone would instigate a dunk competition, and I managed to develop a trademark dunk which nobody could replicate or stomach: the underhanded dunk. Norm was the only person not to loathe it, bless his heart. While I never managed to dunk on a proper 10’ net, I was able to goaltend, which has no use outside of being a dick to a friend. I was smarmy enough to do it once.     Even at Dunkball, I never became much of a dunker, except on turnovers or tip-ins, or unless I had a guard who could do the work of setting me up. I’m more opportunistic than aggressive, besides, who am I going to beat off of the dribble? On my worst nights, I was still a tall guy who could jump, so I always drew the interest of a defender. I’ve always preferred defence to offence, and my favourite offensive play is to box out their post-player, either to be in a better position to rebound, or in order to prevent them from goaltending.     Defence is where Air Alert made the most difference for me. They either had to box me out in order to stop me from goaltending, or try banking it in. I could sit low enough to the ground to defend outside players without losing speed. With a lower net, some players didn’t arc their shots as much, allowing me to swat them away with ease.     There was nothing better than blocking a dunk. Some people took it personally, and would try coming at you on the next play; we all loved blocking Joseph. Still, the best was blocking Norm’s dunks, even if it meant landing on my back.     It was summertime, the final game of the night, with uneven teams and lopsided match-ups, but, somehow, it’s neck and neck. Not only are we still in it, we’ve had the lead. Will is shooting, Nathan is hustling, and I’m blocking everything. My greatest defensive game ends prematurely after I block one of Norm’s dunks, landing horizontally, with all of my weight squarely on my tailbone and elbows. I call it a night, and, in the morning, learned that we had lost immediately after I left.     At this point, I had memorized Air Alert’s number of sets and routines, and so I lent the DVD to Graham. He promised to return it soon. This was in 2010. I learned how to juggle that August, but that didn’t save me either. I kept up my jumping exercises, doing week 4 as maintenance, losing consistency once I started university that fall. Dunkball slowly lost consistency, too, and so I eventually took up the reigns of organizing it. People changed wards, got married, moved, and started families. It was hard to motivate people to come out without a guarantee.     At some point, I became one of the veterans. As Dunkball continued to lose consistency, and as I went through occasional bouts of burn-out withorganizing things, Dunkball changed from being year-round into seasons, and, later, patches, of activity. The benefit of being the one to organize Dunkball is that it allowed me to filter out the jerks between patches of activity. There aren’t a ton of rules, you can make a pass off the wall, you can charge, you can play it in the hall, and goaltending is a way of life, but life is too long to spend it with people who can’t play sports without yelling.     We weren’t as athletic as we once were, but the new players were generally pretty skinny, so we were still able to push them around. I stopped buying bus passes after my first year of university, which helped me to maintain most of my leg strength. While I was in university, I managed to keep most of my vertical, but my confidence became precarious, which affected my intensity. I wasn’t soaking through my shirts anymore, I started to let people push me around.     After I dropped out of university, I grew into a much more sedentary lifestyle. The leg strength I had used to define myself diminished. I’ve had a really hard coping with that. At times, the prospect of playing Dunkball felt more embarrassing than motivating. I felt lost out on the court. I didn’t feel strong enough to bump around in the key, and I felt sluggish trying to play on the outside. Still, I had now been around long enough that I was able to lead a team, if necessary.     I’d hide from my refuge until I felt strong enough to return. Volunteering and winter each got me walking again. Collin organized a soccer team the summer before the pandemic, which got me running and jumping again. I felt more determined, and began to feel better. No longer trapped by where I was, or where I felt I should have been, I was content with making progress.     I think that I handled the early months of the pandemic better than most people. With our usual routines in disarray, I stumbled out of the feedback loop I was caught in. Finding some self-compassion and focus, I created structure to my quarantine in order to work on some goals. I was going to come out of the quarantine dunking. I was joking this time, but I need to dream about something while exercising. Otherwise, I’m just jumping in place, staring at the door. I went through weeks 1-7 of Air Alert, ending with the rest week that marks the halfway point. After which, I returned to doing week 4 to maintain strength.    With churches closed, activities cancelled, and others on lockdown, I started secretly meeting Nik on Saturdays to shoot the ball around. This was back when we were allowed to keep small circles of contacts. The benefit of having keys. The only downside was that the building didn’t have any air circulation outside of facilities management’s offices.     Regarding the pandemic, our city still didn’t have any cases of community transmission. Two of us shooting the ball around became three, and soon we were playing 2-on-2. Dunkball was back, baby! Sans the titular Dunkball, which had gone missing, stolen by missionaries.    I knew that it was only a matter of time before they got rid of the Academy chapel, so I was really motivated to play as much as we could while it was still safe. It took us a little bit before we managed to get six players out on the same day, and we still ended up playing 2’s some nights. We weren’t getting many guys out, but we always had good games. Everyone who came out hustled and was a solid atmosphere guy. We’d mostly play best-of-5 or 7 game series, maybe switching teams up for a final game or two. The series managed to stay pretty tight, with nobody ever reaching a dynasty.     Facilities management leaves the building at 5:30, and, with nobody else around, our secret combination was free to schedule Dunkball whenever we pleased. We were playing twice some weeks. We were able to accommodate people’s schedule. Marvin, my favourite teammate, was able to come out. I hadn’t been able to play with him in years. A high percentage of our small group of players were relatively new to the game. It was really exciting to see them develop, even if Jason blocked me that one time.     I had found my place again, having regained some of my leg strength and quickness. My core and upper-body strength, elusive at the best of times, had become memories, but I worked around that. My game is mostly designed with those absences in mind anyways. Consequently, my play became much more lateral, rather than vertical, after the 4th and, later, 5th game, as Collin noted. I also managed a new trick or two, like learning to bait people into banking their shot, and then blocking it off of the backboard for a quick turnover. My intensity was up, or at least the A/C was down. I was soaking through my shirts again, and I was happy.     It was a hot and humid summer. I missed Jason’s birthday, so I brought some blackout chocolate banana bread to celebrate. As it turns out, a thick moist cake is not refreshing when you’re exhausted and sitting around in a hot and stuffy room you’ve spent the past 2-3 hours further heating up with yer friends. Collin became the MVP the following week when he brought a box of freezies with him. All my life, I had never seen their true worth or potential. I took them for granted in my youth, and turned my nose up at them as I grew older. Now I understood.     I had Dunkball, I had friendly players who responded when I tried organizing things, we had freezies, and, as the Ward Clerk, I had convinced my Bishop that we should buy a new ball (despite the fact that playing at the Church was still verboten.) I was grateful, but I still longed for a day where we had more than 4-6 players, so that we could have subs between games. It’s nice to be able to switch up teams between games, rather than trying to push Arles all night. It’s even nicer to sit down every once in a while, especially after failing to push Arles around.     Our province was still fairly safe, but that was beginning to change. Two regulars had at risk family members, and we began seeing community transmission. I planned to end what was to be the penultimate season of Dunkball after Labour Day. I was concerned what would happen once the school year started.     Before then, we had eight* people come out to Dunkball one morning. Four pairs of family members, in fact. This gave us rotations between games, and a variety of playing styles, leading to more interesting match-ups and dynamics. Whoever loses would get to take a break; excitement was in the air! I questioned Collin’s choice of shoes. He reminded me that I’m solely responsible for their condition. I lend Collin my shoes. He likes the shoes, and I like his freezies. *the ideal amount is 8-9 people     Shoot for teams: Graham, Collin, and I hit our shots. Collin has speed, Graham has range and strength, I have the height, and we all rebound. We win the first game easily, manage to survive the second, and win our third. Dynasty! Shoot for teams again, and I’m back on the floor with David and Marvin. David anchors the key, allowing me to cheat on defence, while Marvin generates offence and creates mismatches. We all defend. Three more wins, and it’s another dynasty! Marvin and I sit this time, and watch as Jacob (handles), Graham, and Jason (positioning) steal the game.     Marvin and I go back on with Limhi, a guard heavy team playing an post-player’s game. They shoot and pass, drawing out the defence, while I set picks, prevent goaltending, and try to clean up on the boards. They cover the outside, while I guard the inside. When the other team goes to the inside, I make their post-player turn away from the net, where either Marvin or Limhi, cheating off of their man, are waiting to strip them of the ball. We win the first game, taking back the floor. They carry me through the second. Last game of the day, and the other team starts to fall apart. As per tradition, we extend the game, but only to to 15, because only Graham and I want to play to 21.     We stumble as they regroup, but Jacob gets frustrated, and their chemistry falters. I assume that I’m to blame, become self-conscious, and begin calling fouls on myself whenever I make any contact with the other team. Of course, this happens on every play, because I’m trying to box out my brother. I get some weird looks as David sighs, he just wants it to be over. I get a clean stop, Limhi scores, and the day ends on a third dynasty. I remain undefeated. Freezies for everyone!     That was the third to last time we played Dunkball. We had another night with six players, and ended the season with a morning of playing 2-on-2, after which we ran out of freezies. I was optimistic that we’d be back playing sometime in the New Year. We barely registered a first wave of the pandemic, but restrictions ended prematurely, and school started back up. Cases kept climbing.     I was scared in October, but that was only the beginning. When we first started playing Dunkball that summer, our province was first in the country. By Christmas, we had become the worst. We began to curb the number of new cases, but restrictions were eased before hospitals finished dealing with the second wave. In May, we began transferring patients to other provinces. For some reason, the plan is to reopen in July.     For some reason, a duo tried organizing ball in March. I declined. Our congregation was changing buildings, so Nik and I went over to grab some stuff. I found that our Dunkball had gone missing again, but I found the original Dunkball, which hasn’t held air since 2015, and brought it home. In April, facilities management began clearing out the Academy chapel, in anticipation of listing the building for sale. They didn’t inform our Bishop until later that week. He went over to pack anything worth keeping, only to have found that they had already junked everything belonging to our congregation, as well everything belonging to the Yazidi community group that had been meeting there prior to the pandemic.     I don’t know the building’s current status. Nik and I kept our keys in the hopes of playing again, but it’s unlikely that things will be safe to go back to normal in time. Dunkball exists as a time and a place: Thursday nights after Institute class at Academy. Last fall, they moved institute classes over to the stake centre. The Academy building is being sold now, and Dunkball is over as we know it.     As I previously mentioned, I lent Graham, the Gordie Howe of Dunkball, my Air Alert DVD and booklet back in 2010. For the past ten years now, he has meant to return it, only for it to slip his mind. I usually forget about it, myself, only for him to remind me when he apologizes. In the moment, I sorta feel guilty that he worries about it. I mean, it’s fine, I don’t need it. He’s put it on his desk, he’s placed it by the door, and though he’s either seen me or a member of my family at least once a week for the past decade, my copy of Air Alert still hasn’t made its way back to me. I’m not even sure that I want it back, but I appreciate his sincerity.     It’s become tradition for him to maintain this false tension between us. At this point, I’d hate to see it go. What if this tension is what’s sustained our friendship throughout all these years? What if Graham’s only been coming out to Dunkball because he feels guilty? I won’t see him at Dunkball anymore, and, as of this week, he won’t be seeing me at church anymore. It’s things like this that keep us alive. I hope that Graham never returns my copy of Air Alert, but I hope that he always tries. ”There is no end to matter, There is no end to space, There is no end to Dunkball, There is no end to race.” - If You Could Hie to Kolob Dunkball, by W.W. Phelps.

I could have gone on about my legs, honestly. Now, I only included those formative texts that I’m willing to admit are still a part of me. I did not include those works whose influences I feel that I have repented of, which is why the 1967 Patterson-Gimlin footage of Bigfoot from Bluff Creek, California, The Weezer Video Capture Device, Newsies, The Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny, nor anything related to Dorm Life or MST3K are not included on my ballot. In any case, I’m sorry not to have found room for Johnny Guitar.

#buster keaton #seven chances #city lights #trouble in paradise #ernst lubitsch #la grande illusion #grand illusion #la regle du jeu #the rules of the game #how green was my valley? #john ford #Shadow of a doubt #to be or not to be #brief encounter #out of the past #the big heat #the sun shines bright #the 5000 fingers of dr. t #the night of the hunter #will success spoil rock hunter? #sweet smell of success #playtime #f for fake #mikey and nicky #it's a wonderful life #Daleks: the early years #Lost in Time Collection #Transformers: the movie #The Muppet Movie #air alert

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 5, chapter 3

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Content warnings: fantasy religion, death mention

Morgan's golem eventually warned him of people approaching. He didn't need to look to guess it would be Blaise and Icharion. It had not been an especially dignified departure. Blaise would have questions, and would have dragged him along with her to satisfy the sentry. Morgan took a steadying breath and raised his head. This conversation might as well happen now. He made a cursory effort to wipe the tears from his cheeks, not that it would make it any less obvious that he'd been weeping.

Icharion was the first to speak once they had rounded the corner and spotted him. "It was cruel of Master Ordan to lie to you as he did," he said stiffly. That didn't sound right at all. Morgan hadn't known Icharion especially well, but he hadn't been one for that sort of reflection. It was the sort of sentiment he would expect from Blaise, though. He glanced over and saw her watching him intently.

"We both know that cruelty was not the Master's intention," he said, addressing Icharion. "And we both know he was in the right."

Icharion exhaled. "I told you," he said to Blaise. She elbowed him.

"There's nothing right about what he did. Don't sell yourself short," she said to Morgan. "You've gotten so much stronger since we met. Just look at everything we've done together."

"That has nothing to do with it," Morgan replied.

"I told her, she wouldn't listen-" Icharion was silenced by another elbow to the ribs.

"Explain it to me, then," Blaise said, crouching in front of Morgan to look him in the face. "Because it sounds like this Ordan just sent you out to die without even telling you what you did to deserve it, and I really don't understand how the two of you seem to think that's justified."

"You know we don't perceive death the same way you do," Morgan reminded her. She nodded grudgingly. "Master Ordan's primary concern is the maintenance of our Order. Our numbers are few enough, but even a small tree can benefit from pruning its weakest branches." That had been one of the master's favourite metaphors. He'd usually used it in the context of seeking out weakness within oneself, but it seemed apt enough here too.

"Yeah, that's pretty much what he said, but you aren't weak." Her voice was rising, the frustration clear on her face.

"I am weak in the ways that matter to the Order," Morgan explained. The heat of shame prickled at his neck. He had no desire to enumerate his failings to her here, in front of someone who could verify the precise degree of his inadequacy. But Blaise was a force to be reckoned with, and he couldn't let her focus her anger on the Order. They were important, even if he was not, so he tried to explain. He started reluctantly with the most fundamental issue, the lowest bar he'd failed to surpass.

"In order to uphold the Balance, we must be objective in our judgment. And we cannot do that if we are beholden to emotions. It's some of our most basic and essential training, and I have never been able to master it properly." He could hear the bitterness creeping into his voice, feel the familiar weight curling in his gut. Even now he was failing.

"So, let me get this straight. You have feelings, like a regular person, and for some reason you think that's so bad you deserve to die for it." Blaise cocked an eyebrow at him. "It's not like that's something you can just turn off."

"I should be able to. It's one of our central tenets. We must be able to separate ourselves from our emotions so we can remain clear-headed. I truly thought I had myself under control when I set out, but... oh." He trailed off as the pieces finally clicked into place, tracing an unmistakable pattern back to its origin. It had felt like it had finally started getting easier by the time he'd left on his quest. The doubt he'd had in himself had been erased by the Master's assurance that he was ready. And he had found it to be possible, if not exactly easy, right up to a very specific point.

Proper control had been impossible ever since the fight against Andariel. Whose venom had caused a lasting change in his sense of pain, lingering even after all physical traces of the wound were gone. Permanent, Jamella had said. And Cain had also mentioned that Andariel could cause emotional sensitivity. So this, too, would be permanent. A heavy feeling settled over Morgan, coming to rest behind his ribs. The rest of his shortcomings were insignificant in comparison to this. There was no hope of redemption. It would take years more dedicated training to overcome this weakness, if it was even possible. And he had nowhere to train, no mentor to correct him when he inevitably strayed. He couldn't return to the Order, not after the story Ordan had woven. Icharion's reaction would be amplified a hundredfold. Why had he-

"Speak, Morgan. You're inside your own head." Icharion's voice was not unkind, but Blaise shot him a dirty look.

"I was clearly mistaken. I just don't understand why Master Ordan lied about the request," Morgan said, voice so low it was nearly a whisper. "He only had to ask. I would have gone willingly." If the goal had simply been to remove him, that could have easily been accomplished in a number of simpler ways. Everything else made sense. Morgan looked up at Icharion, half hoping to find an answer, half dreading what it might be.

"Politics, most likely. Any expulsion from within the Necropolis must be approved by the council, and Jostan is too troubled by our numbers to let anyone go, no matter the reason. No one would have believed you decided to go of your own volition, and Ordan has too many eyes on him to stage a convincing accident."

"Ah." Morgan looked back down. That explanation made sense enough, he supposed. He had simply been so intolerable, so far from adequate that it had forced the Master's hand. The man was fiercely loyal to the brotherhood, if rather unyielding in his views. His decisions were unswayable, and clearly he'd decided - he'd seen - that there could be no place for someone as weak as Morgan in the priesthood, no matter how earnest his devotion.

"Hang on," Blaise said, "when you talk about 'going', do you actually mean-"

"Dying, yes," Icharion interrupted. "It is an honour to lay down one's life in service to the Order." It was an honour he would never know, Morgan realized suddenly. That twisted like a knife.

"You're really not convincing me that any of this is okay," Blaise said.

"You don't need to believe the truth," Icharion replied. "It will be true all the same, with or without your approval."

"Blaise," Morgan said quickly, "wait." She looked ready to explode, glaring murderously at Icharion. Morgan tried to find the right words, ones she might take heed of. "Master Ordan was right. I cannot serve the Order of Rathma. I am not capable of meeting their standards. He saw that and acted in their best interest because that is his duty. The only fault here is mine. I should have seen it too." Should have recognized the truth and gone long ago, saved them all the trouble.

"That's stupid. The whole time I've known you, everything you've done has been in the name of the Balance. I've watched you work yourself nearly to death for it, and you're telling me that's not good enough? Bullshit."

"I've no doubt his intentions are pure," Icharion said with surprising gentleness, "but effort alone cannot overcome inability. Not all people are capable of all things. Few are suited to our work, fewer still are able to carry it out."

"Bullshit," Blaise repeated, but it was quieter this time. "That's not fair."

"It is important work," Morgan said. "It cannot be entrusted to those unfit to do it."

"And you really believe that includes you? Even after all the shit you've been through for it? After how hard you've worked?"

"I do." Morgan closed his eyes against the surge of emotions that swelled up at the finality of that admission. He had no choice but to accept the truth. It was nothing new, after all. Hardly the first time his best efforts had proven to be insufficient. That didn't do much to soften the blow. At least his ineptitude was likely to have prevented him from doing any real damage to anything in his efforts, he thought dully.

"I could witness your departure," Icharion offered after a time, breaking the silence. "We are far from home. The rules would allow it." It was an unexpected gesture, permitted but not necessary by the laws of the Order. Morgan studied his face for a moment. He found nothing; of course Icharion could make himself unreadable, like a priest ought to be able to do. There was an undeniable thread of kindness in the offer, though. At least it could be done properly. That would be a small comfort.

"I would appreciate that very much," Morgan said, getting to his feet. Blaise sprang up as well as Icharion drew his sword.

"Whoa, whoa, hang on a second here. Somebody tell me what's happening. I'm not going to let-"

"It's not that kind of departure," Icharion interrupted her. "Sit back down." Blaise bristled.

"It's just a ceremony," Morgan reassured her. "An oath. Nobody dies." She seemed slightly mollified but did not sit down, instead crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes. She would let them proceed, then.

Morgan fished out a vial of oil from his chest pocket. Uncorking it, he pinched the tip of Icharion's proffered blade with his thumb and forefinger and squeezed several drops of blood in to mingle with the oil. Then he poured out the contents in a rough circle around himself. The circle glowed faintly as he imbued it with intent. He had never seen this particular ceremony, but the steps were as familiar as all the others he'd ever committed to memory.

"On my heart's blood I swear I shall never again interfere in the Order of Rathma, nor in the affairs of the dead." The words left a heavy feeling in his chest, but it was a little better than the jagged hurt that already sat there.

"On your heart's blood it is witnessed," Icharion replied, "and so are you bound." He traced a line under the circle with the bloodied tip of his blade. It drew in the light from the circle, which faded to nothing as he dismissed the magic with his free hand. Morgan wiped his fingers on the hem of his shirt.

"Thank you for that," he said quietly. Icharion nodded an acknowledgement as Morgan handed over the rest of his ceremonial oils. He no longer had a use for them. A thick, protective numbness was starting to settle in, blunting the world's edges.

"So that's it? You're just... done?" Blaise hadn't moved, still regarding them suspiciously.

"It is a very straightforward oath," Icharion pointed out as he wiped his blade clean and returned it to its sheath.

"Oh, fuck off."

"I will continue to do my part in the effort against Baal," Morgan clarified, the words feeling far away and hazy. "But on my own behalf, now. I think I'd like to join you in battle tomorrow." He could still work toward a purpose, still make himself useful. He needed that. To hold him together.

Blaise slung an arm around his shoulders. "I'll be glad to have you by my side." Morgan leaned into her gratefully. "And I think the barbarians are going to like your golems. If you're still..." she broke off, glancing over at the one still standing watch.

"He cannot raise the dead, but the earth is still fair game," Icharion confirmed. "Now if you're quite finished, I'm going back inside." He turned and left without further comment.

"You should go back with him," Morgan said. He pulled away from Blaise, but her hand lingered on his shoulder.

"Hey," she said softly, "are you... okay? I mean, fuck, obviously not, this is... I know the Order is important to you. Can I help? Somehow?" Once again, she was looking at him with earnest concern. He should have felt something about that, probably, but the numbness was there instead.

"I don't know," Morgan replied. "I'm going to finish checking the wall for damage," he found himself saying, "and then I think I'm going to meditate." Being fully rested would be a good idea. He'd been getting so much sleep recently, he didn't need any more and he certainly didn't want to risk the nightmares. But he found he didn't want to be conscious either. Though the specific techniques had been developed by the Order, the act of meditation was hardly exclusive to them. It wouldn't interfere with anything. He could still have that little peace, at least.

Blaise squeezed him gently. "Think about eating something too." That was probably also a good idea, but less appealing. He nodded anyway. "I'll leave you to it, then," she said, then followed Icharion's path back toward the gates.

There was still more to do, Morgan reminded himself as he walked slowly around the wall. Tyrael had bidden them to slay Baal. He still had a purpose, for now. Between that and the numbness, it was enough to propel him through the rest of the day's actions. His body patched a few more damaged spots in the wall, and put some food into itself, and found a bed to lay itself in, and then it rested as his mind drifted in meditation, carefully focused on absolutely nothing at all.

#my writing #story: unbidden #fantasy religion tw #emotional whump #death mention tw

[susoftjockau]

The Plan - Part Four (Carly) + Epilogue

There was a reason Carly was written last on the list she and Steven had back at the food truck.

One fact to recall was the cold intensity of her dorm mate — who, throughout her moments of bumping into her in the early mornings to pack up and get ready for classes — always brushed her aside and never spoken a word or greeting before going through the front door. Sure, they shared the same kitchen island, brewing their favorites — coffee and tea, eating the same ingredients to survive the day, but the atmosphere she bore off was akin to a snake observing the trappings of a mouse.

In other words, she was scary. Very scary.

Yet even with this insight, Connie tried her best to talk to her, watching shows on the couch as time went by. The shows varied from the casual viewing: there was Under the Knife, going on for twenty minutes before they moved on; Poindexter, which took an hour until interest became fleeting at the newest season; Dogcopter 3 — which Carly laid down the inevitable rating of ‘mediocre and a disaster to the Dogcopter franchise’; and many other shows and movies that didn’t live up to their expectations and excitement for the day.

It wasn’t exciting, well; it felt exciting in its own way. Even with the notion they had to hang out for a great period of time, there weren’t any pushes to speak. It was just the two of them, watching fictional characters go through life in the most poetic or dumbest ways a writer could implement them to do. Connie wished it stayed that way. She loved staying in this perpetual state of media watching, no discourse to be found except for the occasional comments from both of them on how an anime didn’t work out or how a particular movie would rather flaunt its busty women around than a coherent plot.

But Carly found a way to break that silence.

And it was all because of Clockwork Philosopher; that and its remake.

Connie was the type to defend, be the morally correct debater for stuff such as Clockwork Philosopher and its remade counterpart, but that’s the tricky part when it came to that anime series in question: there were committed fans from both ends, ready to fight to the teeth on what they believe is crucial, even if Philosopher’s Solitude version was the best piece of media she’d ever consumed in all her seventeen years of living. Carly was the one who didn’t believe such a statement, and, much to Connie’s dismay, was okay with arguing this over hot cocoa and tea.

It didn’t come out of nowhere. It was a gradual rise where both of them brought upon comments of the characters, of the plot, of the people they rooted for and somehow it all lead up to the discussion on which was better: Clockwork Philosopher or the Solitude version.

Which one had the appeal? Which one carried favorability to both of them?

Connie chose Solitude.

Carly, to her surprise, chose the original.

When asking her why, Carly responded.

“Solitude didn’t play up to what I expected.” It was calm, the type of voice that sounded matter-of-fact if one focused, if one took the time to listen to the lilt in her words. “Instead of giving me an interesting dichotomy between characters and commentary over the human experience, I got shounen caricatures — no tinkering with archetypes, nothing about how they full-on cope; just people who don’t change, keeping up with their platitudes rather than having it be challenged to the brink.”

“But they do though.” She kept herself to the sidelines with this whole debacle, but there was a passion riding her words, hidden in the need to keep herself composed and correct. Debating was something she always had a passion for. There was something intense in being able to argue with someone over something you’ve researched or binged for so long, like the reward was to gloat or get some form of digital pat on the back for one’s diligence towards the whole thing. 

They fumbled with their cups, warm to the touch, allowing their television to go on with a scene from the anime in question. Connie continued on. “What you’re saying goes against a great deal with Solitude. People have been subverted, given life and roles in the anime than in the original, they’re seen as people rather than cardboard cut-outs.”

Carly gave a nod to that. Another sip greeting the quiet. “I’m curious. Can you explain more of your reasons?”

And the argument would continue forth for a while. 

Both watched the other in this state of bliss and gripes in their tranquil bubble. At first, Connie tried her best to not get involved. She liked conflict where the future of it was determined, not given the option to roam around in probability, to whatever hellish path in consequences it had in mind. She added her pieces, given viewpoints that should’ve brought Carly to her knees, yet Carly didn’t heed.

Carly was composed throughout it. With that curious look of hers, eyeing her with no malice but of intense scrutiny akin to a magnifying glass. Something about it left her restless, lost in a myriad of threads where they would babble and discuss the anime in such a way that Connie had no clue when it would end; whether they would stop it altogether and just allow themselves to watch was an inevitable question — and the answer was: they wouldn’t.

Connie wanted that win. That satisfaction of saying ‘ahah’ to the woman’s face, and Carly — illegible as ever — seemed to prod at her, cornering her in ways that made her feel heated and tense. How could she be so calculated over this? Usually when Connie argued it was over forums where another would get aggressive, ready to rip her teeth out with emotion rather than facts, and when that happened she felt accomplished, morally justified, for she took it with stride. There weren’t any moments where she’d notice a dip in her words or her viewpoints (everything looked solid, put-together, thought out). But not here.

Just...hell no. Not here.

Carly clicked her tongue, harsh and quick. The warmth of their cups were gone, drank to the drenches with nowhere else to go but onto the coffee table in front of them. Connie was tapping her knee. The other didn’t seem to fidget, or sweat, or babble; she looked poised. It was irritating to watch now that the argument had gotten more intense.

“Look.” She started, with that same passive tone to her that made Connie want to groan out in annoyance. But Connie was supposed to be kind, respectful. She wasn’t going to blow a gasket over an argument like this, she wasn’t that petty. “An anime could be the most perfect piece of media in all the land, but that still won’t bargain with me. If they hit the objective writing goals then I don’t care — good on them for being responsible writers, following and conforming to the status of writing in general — but if a writer can’t make me feel the humanity in them, then it’s not worth it. If they can’t get out of their comfort zone and go beyond then there’s no point, it’s boring to me.”

“But they do go beyond.” Connie gritted her teeth, watching the woman continue to stare at her, with that muted expression of hers. She was always calm, always the one to resolve and be the strong and morally-correct debater with animes such as this, but it was hard to stare at Carly with this feeling, this lack of victory. There was the crushing reality that this wasn’t the internet; that the choice to just walk away with that feeling of accomplishment was long gone at this point. So everything to her fell flat, each argument that rose from her lips cornered to something incomprehensible. There was one last argument she had in her mind. Like one would grapple straws, she used it. In her heart, in her timid but firey heart, she wanted to win. “They didn't even give the female characters the moments to be fully realized in the original until Solitude showed off their competency and involvement!"

"But it isn't." Carly's expression kept mute, voice level. It pinched at her, hard. God, why is everything getting crowded? Scorching to the collar? "When it came to character, the original nailed it down. Solitude gave the screen time, but not the true exploration of mankind."

"But you're ignoring the characters they've done justice."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm just being level and open-minded," Carly said. "You don't have to get so heated about this if you’re going to be a sore loser over this."

She shot up.

"Can you stop being a bitch about this!?" Connie widened her eyes at that. Looking at Carly, something shifted in her expression too, illegible and foreign, terrifying to process.

She never did that before, she never did that before to anyone in real life.

She fucked up. She fucked up.

Carly's going to hunt her down for this, condemn her to some weird-ass college version of the Salem trials, and it's all her fau—

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

Connie looked at her: Carly's eyes crinkled in amusement, a grin on her features — genuine, no malice to be found. "What?"

"Don't just stand there." Carly ushered her. "Go on, tell me!"

"I don't know, I'm sor—"

"You don't like my opinions." Carly continued, voice rising a bit. "You don't want to agree with them; why are you trying to conform and stay silent when you could tell me that my opinions could be debated?"

"Because that would be rude!"

"What's more rude?" She motioned towards the show. "Telling me that Shou Tucker isn't a bastard or yelling at me that my way of arguing could be jarring to listen to?"

Connie stumbled, words spilling out in incoherent rivers — all the justifications and reasons became cut-up, cut off as she tried to find some silver of rationality that would make Carly back down. But she did like the fight...didn't she?

"Give me your fire, Maheswaran." Carly's eyes narrowed. "Or I'll bring my honest-to-God opinions to the table."

She hesitated. "What honest opinions?"

"About anything we're discussing right now. In fact, I'm planning to bring out the big guns."

"What do you—"

"SAO."

No.

No no no no no.

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

Connie saw the grin, the eagerness, and she couldn't help but feel it rub off on her — the same expression adorning her features.

Carly took it as the go-to, for the next statement hit both of them like a gunshot: 

"SAO isn't bad of a show."

She really liked this, didn’t she?

-----

“Well, that’s good!” Steven had that beam of a smile again, starting to lean more against the table — which Connie advised against before the table could rock more at his weight. “Like I said, three is better than nothing. You did amazing!”

In retrospect, she saw that too. There was still the awkwardness with many of them, but she now had something better: a few acquaintances (friends, they were friends) who are okay with having her in the group, making things easier if she needed it. Connie rubbed her neck, trying her best to respond. “Yeah. But the next few days aren’t going to be great.”

In their plan, they had a few things settled. One of them was the idea of hangouts, wherein their attempts to make her loosen up and relax to Steven’s group of friends, she’ll be exposed to them interacting with her for a great deal of the day. And the idea didn’t feel pleasant. It felt claustrophobic more than anything.

She looked down. Steven’s hand was on hers, warmth spreading to her knuckles as the man kept his grip. It was soft, tender. He wasn’t going to hurt her, and that always was a fact when it came to Steven. A sweetheart by trade. “You don’t have to do it immediately. It doesn’t have to be today or tomorrow or even in a few months. It all comes down to how comfortable you are.”

Connie smiled at him, giving the man a small nod. “I’ll tell you when I’m ready, okay?” She shifted their hands, allowing her to reciprocate his hold, allowing their intertwined fingers to play and brush against the other. “I want to hang out with you. I want to hang out with your friends. I just need some time.”

He hummed. “Alright. We’ll start on your word.”

It was a relief to know he was careful. It was a relief to know that he cared.

- @borkthemork

#steven universe #su au #fic #connverse #su #The Plan #year one

[stevenuniversallyreviews]

Episode 133: Dewey Wins

“But...I’m hurt.”

I started reviewing the Week of Sardonyx in late 2017. It was slow going thanks to grad school and student teaching and licensing tests and my job (boy do I not miss those days), but I’d clawed my way through Cry for Help in October and Keystone Motel on the first Sunday of November. In those reviews, I wrote at length about how this was the most devastating arc of the series, a massive argument spanning multiple episodes with no easy answers.

Then the Friday after my Keystone Motel post was uploaded, Cartoon Network dropped the Breakup Arc on us all at once, and I had to make some edits.

There’s no official name for the span of episodes between Dewey Wins and Kevin Party, but considering it features not one but two breakups, with only one reconciliation by the end, I think my nickname is apt. Just under a fifth of Season 5 is devoted to six consecutive episodes designed to make us miserable, and on top of being an outstanding sequel to the Week of Sardonyx, it’s the best precursor we’ve got to adolescent trials of Steven Universe Future. 

The Week of Sardonyx is strengthened by numerous previous episodes where Pearl does bad things without consequence, making it something of a shock when her actions are finally addressed. In a similar way, we’ve been taught from Log Date 7 15 2 and Kindergarten Kid and The New Crystal Gems that emotionally draining arcs are followed by cooldown episodes, and Dewey Wins sounds like the name of a fun adventure with our goofy mayor. There’s no situation where the Breakup Arc would be a pleasant affair, but the pattern adds an extra layer of angst as our anticipated relief period ends up more stressful than the arc we needed relief from.

But not every big arc gets a cooldown. Our very first, ending with Jailbreak, is followed by one of the Breakup Arc’s major prequels: Full Disclosure, an episode about missed phone calls and the importance of keeping friends in the loop regarding space adventures. The ghosted party is flipped, as Connie now refuses to talk to Steven, and watching his struggle gives an even greater appreciation for Connie’s own turmoil (not just from Full Disclosure, but Steven’s reckless self-sacrifice).

We know something’s wrong from the moment we see her, in a way that’s different from Greg and the Gems’ wide-eyed concern. Her discomfort manifests just as it did in Mindful Education: a downcast expression and curt demeanor made more apparent by Steven’s cheery chattiness. But because she’s the only one of them that has truly taken the lessons of that episode to heart, she soon expresses her feelings outright (after a brutal “Of course I’m happy to see you”—Grace Rolek only needs one scene to be the episode’s MVP). Her complaints are all valid: this is not the first time she’s been left on Earth, and her sense that Steven isn’t taking her seriously is confirmed when he can’t even take her seriously within the conversation. She’s as direct as she can be, but when Steven refuses to acknowledge her pain, her anger takes over and she shuts him out. Lion’s side-eye is icing on the cake.

My biggest issue with Dewey Wins, however, is Steven. I’m torn, because it’s easy to justify his behavior throughout the episode as a result of recent trauma and the relief at surviving such a harrowing experience (and, later, the same sleeplessness that made him snap in Rose’s Room and Warp Tour). It makes sense that his martyr complex is intensified by his experience with Lars, that he falls back on helping others at the cost of his own well-being on instinct. But his flippant dismissal of Connie’s emotions still feels off, especially because it comes with a heretofore unseen swagger about his own heroism. She pours her heart out, making it clear that she wants to keep being Jam Buds but he’s making it really difficult, but every word goes right over his head. This is a version of Steven that somehow doesn’t get that “hurt” can refer to emotions instead of physical damage.

Throughout the episode, but particularly in this opening scene, Steven feels exaggerated for the sake of honing Connie’s argument. Perhaps it’s necessary, considering how easy it is in first viewing to see his sacrifice as noble rather than selfish; we need to see a more extreme version of his behavior to understand that going it alone was a bad move, or else Connie’s arguments seem small against the scale of the stakes. It’s further complicated by the fact that Steven’s sacrifice was noble, even if it was selfish at the same time. This isn’t a case where Steven is fully right or fully wrong, so it’s bound to be confusing to hear that his traditionally heroic move wasn’t as great as he (or we) first thought.

So yeah, I get why Steven is acting this way for the sake of the show. And, again, I can find reasons to explain his sudden emotional idiocy, making it leagues better than a true Annoying Steven episode. But it still comes across as clumsy to me; I can see the wheels turning to move the plot along in a way that’s normally hidden better on this show. His final monologue where he realizes that Connie felt the way he feels about Dewey abandoning the race feels like something from another show, a show that’s way more on-the-nose than Steven Universe is at its best. It was probably the right move, because as much as I can’t stand it when media is patronizing to young audiences, this lesson is complex enough that it’s worth a little clunkiness to ensure that the message gets through to smaller viewers. But compared to the elegance of our recent space adventure, Dewey Wins sacrifices polish for clarity when we usually get both.

But enough about what doesn’t work for me, because so much of this episode works for me. Even if his behavior feels forced, Steven provides seamless in-universe exposition recapping his space adventure. His follow-up conversation with Sadie has the same kind of douchey detachment that he shows Connie, but in a way that’s far more consistent with his character: dismissing Connie’s emotions is out of left field for him, but it makes plenty of sense that he’d see Lars as “okay” despite being trapped in space, considering the alternative was a very real death. And, of course, there’s the matter of the episode’s actual hero.

Nanefua Pizza has been my everything since Beach Party, and it’s thrilling to see her gain more prominence in the tail end of the series. Her beef with Mayor Dewey has been running since Political Power, the Dewey episode that established all the flaws that drive him out of office in Dewey Wins. Then, she responded by rallying rioters to tip over his truck, but now she takes a more civic-minded approach to effect real change. Still, she’s driven by the same anger at Dewey, and can only become a true force for good when she gains a new appreciation for his struggles.

While the correlation between Dewey and Steven is obvious well before Steven straight-up says there’s a correlation (a moment that’s made easier to swallow when Dewey points out he has no context for Steven’s friend troubles), the general conflict between Nanefua and Bill(iam) is a more fascinating study on blame. At first, both candidates believe in the power of blame, with Nanefua laying all the city’s troubles on Dewey’s inaction and Dewey arguing that taking the heat is his greatest strength: in his mind, there’s not much he can actually do about the cosmic misfortunes that befall Beach City, but giving its citizens somebody to blame gives them a sense of control that’s necessary in a chaotic world. And both of these viewpoints can be found in Steven’s self-image.

Steven, like Nanefua, is quick to lay blame when anything goes wrong. But Steven, like Dewey, sees the absorption of blame as a virtue. So he loops between those two positions, looking for someone to blame at the drop of a hat and only finding himself. The ensuing guilt make him want to fix the problems of others to atone, rather than focus on the underlying cause of his own issues, and if that sounds familiar it’s because Steven Universe Future is entirely about how important it is to break this loop.

But obsessing over fixing things is also how Pearl tries to solve her argument with Garnet in the Week of Sardonyx: she focuses on finding Peridot instead of doing anything about her own actions until she has no choice but to talk things out. And, as I said back in my Friend Ship post, it evokes something Pearl once said about humans (which it turns out applies to Gems): 

“They want to blame all the world's problems on some single enemy they can fight, instead of a complex network of interrelated forces beyond anyone's control.”

When was this said? In Keep Beach City Weird, in regards to Ronaldo. The same Ronaldo who poured gas on the fire in Full Disclosure by presenting the idea that heroes are aloof and keep their friends at a distance. So in a way, the Breakup Arc can be chalked up to ignoring the good Ronaldo lesson but taking the bad Ronaldo lesson to heart. But more on him in Gemcation.

Steven’s turmoil lends a somber edge to Nanefua’s powerful change of heart, where she rejects her past choice to blame Dewey. She apologizes for her own part in pointing fingers, because blame is a lousy substitute for getting things done, and forgives him for not being perfect. She pitches the act of helping as a community effort, rather than something that any one person must do alone; she remembers that the lyrics are “we can be strong in the real way.” She’s giving Steven all of the answers well before Steven Universe Future shows how much his guilt loop will continue to plague him, but he isn’t ready to listen yet, and leaves the debate dejected instead of empowered. (Considering Jenny’s appeal to taking breaks during trying times in Joy Ride, and an adventure with Kiki about not spreading yourself too thin on behalf of others in Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service, this is the third time a Pizza woman’s fantastic advice has gone ignored by our hero.)

Even Dewey seems better off than Steven, accepting defeat by acknowledging that Nanefua would make a better mayor. And he’s right! She sets up actual services to account for alien threats, services that end up changing the universe in a way Dewey’s brand of keeping the peace never could. He may need a new job (Sadie foreshadows both his fate and her own imminent career change in one fell swoop), but there’s a sense of calm as he passes the torch after a full episode of Joel Hodgson’s hammy anxiety.

I appreciate that Dewey is allowed some points in his favor even as he flubs his way out of office. Yes, he should be more thoughtful and attentive: his vow to find a new donut shop kid when presented with news that Lars is trapped in space is even broader than Steven’s reaction to Connie’s pain, but the mayor has always ridiculous so I don’t mind at all. Yes, he should try and do something to address the concerns of his citizens beyond saying everything will be fine. But it’s not lost on the show that it isn’t easy running a town that’s a lightning rod for alien encounters, so Dewey remains sympathetic even if his ineptitude must be addressed. After all, if he’s gonna stand in for Steven in a metaphor that’s clear enough to be monologued about, it’s important to point out that it’s okay when you fail against impossible odds. Neither Dewey nor Steven can do everything on their own, no matter how much power they wield.

Steven might skip a few crucial lessons of Dewey Wins, but he at least learns one. Perhaps in an earlier season, that would be enough to mend fences with Connie. But time makes you bolder, children get older, and she’s getting older too. She’s been more than patient with being treated like an afterthought, so the moment she’s had enough is bound to be a big one. Thus, we end with a cliffhanger, one that pulls Steven into the same landslide that’s surely consuming the rest of the town after his kidnapping. The Barrigas are missing a son, and Sadie’s missing a romantic friend. Bill Dewey is no longer Mayor Dewey, and Nanefua has a whole new set of obstacles to face. Greg and the Gems have their son back, but his kidnapping was traumatic for them as well, and Connie gets that trauma on top of her stated complaints. And Steven had learned two lessons instead of one: it’s important to take your friends seriously, and timing is everything.

It’s gonna be a rough week.

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

I do like it, really. But Steven’s behavior takes it down a few notches, regardless of my ability to find ways to explain it. Great episodes don’t require the audience to seek ways to justify a character’s weird behavior. There’s more good than bad here, but I’d be lying if I said I loved Dewey Wins.

Top Twenty-Five

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

Last One Out of Beach City

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Mindful Education

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Earthlings

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Bismuth

Steven’s Dream

When It Rains

The Good Lars

Lars’s Head

Catch and Release

Chille Tid

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Beta

Back to the Moon

Kindergarten Kid

Buddy’s Book

Gem Harvest

Three Gems and a Baby

That Will Be All

The New Crystal Gems

Storm in the Room

Room for Ruby

Lion 4: Alternate Ending

Doug Out

Are You My Dad?

I Am My Mom

Stuck Together

The Trial

Off Colors

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Bubbled

Adventures in Light Distortion

Gem Heist

The Zoo

Rocknaldo

Dewey Wins

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

Know Your Fusion

Future Boy Zoltron

Tiger Philanthropist

No Thanks!

     6. Horror Club      5. Fusion Cuisine      4. House Guest      3. Onion Gang      2. Sadie’s Song      1. Island Adventure

(No official promo art for most of the Breakup Arc, given the way they were released, but I can’t be too mad when we get brilliance like this from ajora.)

#dewey wins #steven universe #su #steven universally #review

[feralgodmothers]

26, 38, 66 and 89 please :)

26. What’s the most life-changing choice you’ve made so far?

This might sound lame, but it’s probably when I chose to work as gate security for the community I live in. (That’s how I met the man I fell in love with).  My life has been topsy turvy ever since lol.  In what feels like the best and worst ways possible.

38. Is your life what you expected it would be five years ago?

No. 😂  I thought I might have been living more independently by now. I mean, there are reasons I’m glad I’m still with my mom, but I have this deep-rooted feeling of failure from knowing I haven’t flown from the stupid nest yet.

66. How do you feel about the idea ‘an eye for an eye’?

Honestly, as a Christian, I think that term has been taken beyond its original intent.  I think the way people use it now is dangerous, because anger is a crazy strong emotion (especially if you’ve been wronged), and to have a blanket statement that justifies giving in to that and taking whatever action you feel is fair in the heat of the moment will only lead to more harm and trouble.  I have to fight the feeling myself sometimes of course, because I get angry, and I would love to give out what I (or the people I love) get.  But ultimately, I feel like it’s destructive and should be avoided as much as possible.

89. If you lost all your memories, would you have the same personality?

I feel like ghosts of certain traits and tendencies would still be there, but in forgetting all of the influence of my family, and the things I’ve learned and experienced- I’d probably be very different.  I imagine that at the very least, I wouldn’t be socially anxious anymore, and that’s a very big part of who I am right now.

Thanks for the questions!  💖💗

#asks #hiraeth-doux

[darkpoisonouslove]

“A Partner Is Everything Needed to Sate the Endless Want of a Soul”

Summary: Out of the cave and with the enchantment in his pocket and Griffin’s hand in his, Valtor’s ready to celebrate his victory and get to know his new partner. She even has a mark to confirm she’s his, so why does he keep facing problem after problem the single root of which is that knowledge exactly? Part 2 of "Love Can Be a Trap That Sets You Free".

I blame @her-majesty-wears-jeans for everything since she just had to ask how part 1 would continue if I were to write more. I did write more. And I’m nowhere close to finished.

The sun had already set and it was well into the evening when they made it back to the clearing. They'd have to spend the night there as he was too exhausted to summon the needed energy to open a portal back to Obsidian. He could probably get Griffin to do it–she certainly had the power for it–but, truth be told, he wasn't in a rush to go back to being his mothers' errand puppet yet when he could spend the time getting to know his new partner.

He had no idea how old she was. She could have lived for hundreds of years even though her eyes were filled with wonder at the world around them as they moved swiftly, drinking in the mellow green of the grass and trees–every bit as different from the sickly grass that had tried to kill him as the light of day was from the darkness of the cave–in front of them that were illuminated by the fire in the sphere still floating above his head. He wasn't even sure if she'd seen anything outside of her cave–he wasn't exactly certain how she'd gotten there in the first place which was just one of the endless things they had to discuss–but he'd be glad to show her everything that the world outside had to offer. The thought of standing on top of it with her hand in his–he still remembered the coolness of her skin against his and the softness of her touch, as if it had been water caressing him–was sublime and he tried to focus on that to distract himself from the nagging question of how he was going to explain his new partner to his mothers without revealing to them that he was in possession of the enchantment. He'd gone a bit off course with that mission that he'd kept secret from them.

There were more pressing concerns currently, though. He was starving and while he had no idea if sirens needed food, Griffin was not a siren anymore and, considering the radical change she'd gone through, it was probably best to get her to eat something. And they needed to light a fire if they wanted to actually wake up in the morning and not spend the rest of eternity as one with the clearing after the cold of the night had chased the life from their bones.

He nearly shivered at the thought of the ice frost biting at his skin fueled by an endless flow of rage, which was exactly what awaited him if he went back to his mothers without a good explanation why he had an ex siren with him. They would know the moment they looked at her, he was sure of it. He had to focus, though, and take it one problem at a time.

He wouldn't have to worry about any potential punishments his mothers had in store for him if hypothermia never let him get back to their home base. And finding fire would prove to be a problem now that his inner flames were exhausted and barely flickering still.

They still had the fire in the sphere floating above his head but it couldn't really provide enough heat to justify the power it was draining from him and just the thought of trekking through the forest in search of wood was making the light in it waver as his energy was being sucked out rapidly when his determination slipped through his fingers. It had gotten him far but it wasn't endless when he was alone against the whole world and had to face its unending challenges on his own.

He felt Griffin's fingers tugging at his coat as she reached into the pocket and pulled out the enchantment, holding it out to him.

He wasn't sure how exactly she'd figured out what was going on in his head. If she could still read his thoughts, then that was something to be accounted for. Not necessarily bad–she was his partner and that would give them a way to communicate without words–but still something to be mindful of, especially since he wasn't a fan of having his thoughts poked into. It was something he would really prefer to go without. Especially when he had a choice on the matter.

It was possible that Griffin had reached the same conclusion as him when it came to what their next step had to be through logic, though. And considering her genius solution to the problem, he was willing to bet on that.

He took the shell from her, his fingers brushing against hers and he was glad to see she didn't feel the need to pull away. Though, it could be simply because she knew he had the means to make her bend to his will. He wasn't exactly certain how much free will she had after his little stunt with the Dragon Fire and he preferred to think about the perfect opportunity to give the enchantment a test run rather than on thoughts about the ethics of his actions. Or the lack of thereof.

She had him under her spell as much as he had her under his. Well, actually, it was her own magic that had marked her his but she'd been aware of the consequences of the actions she'd undertaken and he hadn't forced her into anything but had won their battle of wills fair and square... Almost. (If you didn't count stealing her oxygen from her.) So the playing field was evened out, considering how enchanted he was by her.

He opened the shell, hoping the enchantment would sway his mind into quieting down as well so that he could focus on the pressing matters rather than on the worries that were washing over him and trying to drown him. He'd avoided that fate when it'd been Griffin's magic threatening him with it. It would be ironic to suffer the same demise at his own hand.

The sound that spilled from the shell drowned out everything else, holding his attention on it even though it was flowing all around him, surrounding him like he was an island in the ocean. The soft whispers of waves washed over him, tugging at his heartstrings and seducing his mind into following them as if it was the tide that was pulling him further and further into a tranquil sea made of peace that made every strain in his muscles ease and every struggle in his mind cease to the point where he almost forgot about the intention he had to put forward if he wanted the enchantment to get his will to take over the world around. Magic was emotion so he did his best to focus on his want for food and firewood and not get dragged into the calm trance the sound of the waves induced.

He barely heard it at first but the noise got louder, making its way through the soothing sound of the enchantment and digging into his head. The cracking of the wood would have snapped him out of his infatuation with the song of the ocean waves whether he'd wanted it or not and he allowed it, a little bit worried by the effect the magic had on him. It was so alluring, sweet, seductive, tempting him to give up his will and do as its master desired to the point where he almost forgot that that was him. He held the power, and yet, he wasn't completely immune to it. And nature wasn't either.

The trees were bending their branches and breaking them off, the wood falling in the clearing so that they could use it for their fire. It was like a self-destructive dance that was equally hypnotizing and terrifying and he couldn't tear his gaze away from the haunting sight as the trees kept twisting and finding new ways to maim themselves since they were left no choice but to follow his will tangled into the sound of the enchantment. And over their branches arrived two big leafs with berry-like fruits on them that two of the trees almost snapped themselves in half when they bent over to lay them down on the grass for them.

Griffin's hands on his startled him when she pushed to close the shell and stop the eerie spectacle of nature sacrificing itself for them. Her head was bowed and she let go of him slowly when the sound of the ocean stopped and the trees returned back to their natural motionlessness.

It helped him regain his own autonomy now that the universe looked the same as he knew it and he wasn't caught in the middle of a mystical ritual he didn't understand. He moved to pocket the enchantment, a sense of awe filling him at the sight of the little shell now that he'd seen the enormous power it held. It was hard to comprehend even though it was exactly what he'd been after.

"How did that happen?" he asked, his words a jumble in his mind that was still mostly full of the otherworldly experience he'd just had. And he would be embarrassed to admit he didn't understand magic in front of anyone else–and punished if it had been his mothers who'd watched him get all speechless at the power that was like nothing else he'd ever witnessed–but she was his and it was safe to trust her with his lack of knowledge.

"It's the nature of the enchantment," Griffin said, her voice so quiet he had to strain to hear it and it still cut through him with how different it was from the melodic sound he was used to. It was nothing like it'd been when she'd first spoken to him and asked him to kiss her. It was like sandpaper scraping against his ears and threatening to make them bleed, but it was even more painful to his heart to listen to her like that. It was as if life was draining out of her and she barely had enough oxygen left to speak. "It sways the-"

"What happened to your voice?" he interrupted, his eyes searching her face as if trying to find the thing that was doing that to her when she finally looked up at him.

Her own eyes looked at him, the golden not as gleaming as it'd used to be and he knew that had nothing to do with the dim light because they'd glowed even in the darkness of the cave before he'd burned a part of her away. The look in them was studying, bordering on suspicious, but it seemed to soften when she found what she'd been looking for. And he didn't know whether it was a good thing that that only happened after he felt the worry and insecurities resurface in him.

Griffin reached for his pocket again but his hand covered hers, holding it in place before she she could pull the shell out once again. "It's in there," she croaked out even when her demeanor and her entire being seemed to soften. It was all she could manage now. "The enchantment is my voice in its archaic state when it hasn't been reined in by the restricted capabilities of my vocal chords," she explained, every word tugging on the strings of his heart so viciously it took everything from him not to clutch at her hard enough to hurt her and producing awful wailing sounds that echoed inside his mind since they were trapped inside him and couldn't get out. "It is the same as the Water Stars in essence and can sway the spark of the Dragon Fire in every living thing into doing its will," she said, making him stagger and he had to move. Not only because her quiet, rough voice was worse than the cackles of his mothers when they were taunting him.

"I'll go take care of the fire," he said as he let go of her hand, and if her eyes got glassier as if his voice or behavior was pulling tears from her, he did his best to ignore it. Just as he did with her form that remained still and anchored in place in the middle of the clearing as if she was cut in so many pieces that moving would make her fall apart. He knew the feeling but he couldn't help her when it was her who'd forced it upon him.

Her words rang in his ears–or rather, scraped at them since that was all her hoarse, no longer melodic voice could do after she'd extracted most of it in the shell to give to him–engraving in him the realization that he couldn't control her with the enchantment since her soul had no Dragon Fire. Its essence came from the Water Stars. So the only thing that held her by his side was her own spell he'd turned against her. But the effect of that had been burned away at least partially by his fire. Which meant she could leave him. And that had him scared.

He kept from looking at her as he tried to focus on the fire instead. He couldn't look at her. She'd been supposed to be his partner but all she'd done for him so far was make his heart bleed at the thought of her ripping her voice away to give to him and have terror gripping at his throat at the thought of her leaving. She couldn't. If she walked away, he'd be all alone against his mothers and their impossible demands again. And he knew even the enchantment wouldn't help with them since they'd find a reason to criticize him no matter how well he did on missions. Just a part of her wouldn't help him. He needed all of her, everything. He needed a partner to see him as equally deserving and worthy and not berate him when the smallest thing he did wasn't perfect. And she'd already given him that with the look of total adoration on her face that might have been an effect of the spell she was under but he'd won his victory.

The fear burning in him was enough to power his magic–perhaps a bit too much since the branches burst into flames, startling Griffin even though she was as far away from him as his heart could handle without starting to race even faster at the thought of her leaving–but it still left him feeling so weak. Weaker than he'd ever been. And that hadn't been the plan. He had to be more powerful with her at his side, yet, he only felt regret and trepidation. And even that wasn't enough to make him break away from her. Maybe sirens didn't even need magic to entrance you and it was just in their nature. Even if he'd made sure she wasn't a siren anymore.

He willed the flame in his sphere to die down as he had no more energy to feed it any longer and he didn't need it now that he was out of the cave and there was a bigger fire to keep him warm. That one didn't even drain his energy since he'd only given it the initial spark but the wood kept burning on its own without exhausting him further.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he'd been running around all day, using his strength and magic on the enchantment and Griffin without doing anything to recharge himself. Eating and sleeping sounded heavenly even if he had to get through the problems Griffin posed on both of those.

He walked over to where she'd sat down on the ground cross-legged–she seemed to be getting comfortable in her new form–and was studying the fruits the forest had found for them. It pulled forward the questions he'd had before of how much she knew about the world and the worried warmth with which they burned in his mind only left him angrier because he still wanted to show her everything she hadn't gotten to see for herself. Even with the very prevalent possibility of her breaking his heart when she disappeared, chasing her own freedom which he understood but didn't necessarily accept as he craved to get used to her being his partner.

"I'm... not really sure what these are," he said as he looked at the fruits before sitting down next to her. He hadn't seen fruits like that–colored in purple that very much resembled that of her hair–and couldn't really introduce her to something she hadn't tasted before since he was right there with her in the dark. He did suppose that they were edible, though, since he'd wanted food when he'd employed the enchantment to work.

"They're berries. Edible and sweet," Griffin said as she looked at him, her expression mellow to differ from her voice. At least she confirmed he'd been correct in his assumption about the fruits.

"Have you eaten them before?" he asked when he realized that she actually had more information than he did. He'd thought he'd be the one in familiar waters once they were out of the cave but perhaps that wasn't the case. Maybe she knew more than him despite being a siren tied to her lake. He could still sense the magic harbored inside her even after his own interference with the depths of her soul and it wasn't hard for him to believe she knew secrets he couldn't even imagine.

Griffin shook her head. "No, seaweeds were the only thing that grew in the waters of the lake," she said, her eyes getting distant as she remembered her life in the dark cave and the light in her eyes seemed to fade even more, answering his question about how much of the world she'd seen.

"I guess this is a first for both of us then," he said as he grabbed a few berries from one of the leafs, looking to distract her from the thoughts that were spilling out of her mind as if to drown them both as he could see the inside of his own mind reflected in the abyss of the lake they formed around the two of them. His own life consisted mainly of memories he wished wouldn't be that, wished he could forget, but most of them were engraved in his soul and some – even in his body. And he was running the risk of the present moment becoming yet another one of them, marking his heart with a scar for him to remember her departure by after she took the world of her being from him and left him alone in the dark emptiness of its absence. But right now it wasn't that. It was a chance to make a good memory with someone who understood him and something about her pushed him to choose to hope for the best since thinking about the worst had always resulted in exactly that happening. Even if it was absurd to bet on faith with all those traces left on his being that gave him proof he was right not to entrust his heart to it.

Griffin gave a small smile that was not radiant by any standards and was instead rather sad but that only struck him with how genuine it made it. All the smiles he'd had directed at him had either been a mockery or a threatening show of teeth. Either way–something to protect himself from. And he wasn't sure he'd had a real smile on his own face but the answer was most likely "no" if victorious grins and prideful smirks didn't count. But she'd gifted him with one of her own–perhaps even her first one, considering the striking similarity between the two of them–and seeing it was worth the possibility of him coming to hate it later.

She focused her attention on the berries, taking one and bringing it to her lips. There was a beat of hesitation before she inhaled, probably looking for a scent to at least give her a clue about the taste that would come next, and slowly dropped it in her mouth. Her jaws met slowly and an excited hum left her throat at the sweetness of the berry–not surprisingly since all she'd ever tasted before had been salty seaweeds–but in her remains of a voice it still sounded like she was in pain, the hoarseness of the sound poking into his own mind and he wrecked it to find something else he could focus on that would save him from hurting.

"How... how did you know they're berries if you haven't seen them before?" he asked, wondering if perhaps he should have left her enjoy the fruits as he watched her shove almost an entire handful of them in her mouth, their juice staining her lips in purple and making him want to wipe it away. Or perhaps lick it off. But she wasn't the siren he'd kissed anymore. She was the woman who could leave him if he pushed her to. And he preferred to keep his hands to himself if it meant he could keep her too.

"I have a concept about every form of life that exists," Griffin said and that topic didn't seem to upset her which helped his heart settle a little and perhaps have some excitement enter it at the opportunity to learn more about her and the magic that she was, even if that was only possible by listening to her strain what little voice she had left. "I don't know how that is possible–perhaps it is somehow tied to the Water Stars essence in me–but I know why it is," she said, wiping at her mouth to remove the berry juice and he hoped it was the sweetness of it that had made her want to remove its tantalizing presence on her lips and not his persistent gaze that had made her self-conscious or uncomfortable. "It was to help me understand nature better so that I could protect the enchantment better with the defense system it was up to me to create," she said, her lips getting pulled into another sad smile at the memories and he couldn't tell which part hurt. Was it the fact she'd had to part with her voice or was it leaving her own universe behind? He had to admit her creations had been impressive and he could see how she could get attached to them even if he couldn't relate, not having the power to create anything despite possessing the Dragon Fire. And she probably couldn't create life anymore either because all he could do was destroy.

"How long have you been guarding it?" he asked even though he was well aware that question had enormous potential to be painful. But he hadn't cared what he was causing her up to this point. Why start now when he could keep being interested in his wants only?

"I..." she paused, her face scrunching up into a frown deeper than her lake, "I don't know," she said, the answer seeming to shock her as much as it did him. "There was nothing in the cave to indicate the passage of time. I don't even know how many men and women have turned into compost for my ecosystem," she said, her look unfocused as if she was pulling her brain apart in desperate need to get some numbers she could work with. "Not even the number of those I dragged down to the bottom of the lake," she whispered, her already quiet voice quieter with something that nestled in his heart with the sole purpose of unsettling him. And it wasn't the thought of anyone else getting to kiss her either. (She'd taken care of all those who'd done it before him.)

"Are you all right?" he asked, feeling his own eyebrows knit as he debated whether to reach for her and pull her out of the mud in her mind but the thought of the pain on her face when he'd burned the water out of her soul convinced him against it.

"I'm a murderess," she said, the struggle in her voice to get the words out making it even harsher and her inability to concentrate her gaze on anything making the worry spin inside his head like a whirlpool, dragging forth the realization that so was he but, to differ from him, she seemed to care. "I was just an extension of the ocean that guards its secrets with violence if need be and the consequences of what I was doing weren't registering because it was simply my nature. But remembering all the terrified expressions of the people when they realized they couldn't breathe in my underwater embrace now that I understand what being a human is and what death means..." she shuddered, her conscience shaking her so profoundly it looked like she would fall apart, as fragile and soft as she was. She had barely been a human for a couple hours and she was already better at it than he was. She was better than him and didn't deserve what he'd done to her.

He'd changed the essence of her being, he'd made her human, made her mortal. He'd caused her pain that was now causing her more pain. Because he'd wanted to get his way. It was one of the most selfish things–the most selfish one–he'd ever done, and he'd done plenty of those.

"It's not your fault." he said, the words rolling off his tongue as naturally as comforting himself had never been when he knew it was all on him. "You didn't have a choice."

He'd had. It had been one of the few times in his life he'd gotten to choose for himself without his mothers' threatening presence looming over his head, and he'd chosen to put her in the same place he was trying to escape. He'd tried to force her to be what he wanted her to be even though that was exactly what his mothers were doing to him. He'd thought he'd won their battle of wills but she'd never had a will of her own. If she'd had, she probably never would've kissed him in the first place, she never would've met him as she wouldn't have been forced to live in the cave.

"We should get closer to the fire," he said as he felt chills running down his back even if he wasn't sure flames could help rid him of those. He knew the bright light of her eyes could but he'd chased it away from them when he'd destroyed a part of her soul.

Griffin turned to look at the fire before shaking her head vigorously, her eyes trained on the flames with terror burning in them, and he realized that burning away the water from her soul had left her afraid of fire. Not just his fire, but any fire. Because it must have been so insanely painful, and she hadn't even given voice to her agony. (She couldn't have. She no longer had even that.) And he didn't want to hurt her more but she'd freeze to death if she didn't come closer to the fire.

He reached for his magic, plenty of self-loathing inside him to give him more than enough power to charge his spell with. He felt his body heat oozing out of him, telling him it was working and motivating him to keep tethering it to his coat. It would only make him shake harder once he took it off but those were chills he would actually welcome if that was the price of taking care of her.

"Here," he said when he was done with his spell, taking the coat off to have the night air biting viciously at him, and the effect was even more instantaneous when he'd also parted with most of his body heat. "It'll keep you warm," he said as he draped it over her shoulders, doing his best to avoid touching her just in case he'd managed to seal the association of his touch with pain in her mind as well.

"Thank you," she said and gave him a soft smile that he didn't really deserve since it'd taken him so long to realize he could do for her what no one had done for him if he could just stop being so selfish. She didn't ask what he'd do but he didn't deserve her worry either. He'd been absorbed in himself and his wants enough for both of them. And the grating of her voice in his head when she spoke only kept reminding him of that. So it was better for her not to ask. Seeing her muscles relax when she was all wrapped in his body heat helped his do the same far better than her words could.

He picked up his lead with berries and walked over to the fire, sitting so close to it that it felt like the flames were licking at his back. It still wasn't enough to keep him warm when he was all chilled on the inside and that didn't even have anything to do with the body heat he'd lent to Griffin. In fact, that was the only thing that kept him sane currently, keeping a little spark of hope that he wasn't an exact copy of his mothers and more of a monster than a human alive inside of him.

He forced himself to eat the berries even if he was feeling sick to his stomach–Griffin at least seemed to enjoy them as she finished hers–because he would need the energy. He wasn't sure how much sleep he'd manage to get with the cold that had moved in under his skin but Griffin was his bigger concern as he hoped his spell would hold even when he fell asleep. He would be fine, his inner flames burning even when those on the outside weren't, but his spell was the only thing providing her with a source of heat since fire was even more of a nightmare to her than frostbite–something very hard for him to imagine, though it made perfect sense if he flipped the two different ways to die around–and it was all his doing.

She put the coat on and wrapped herself in it, startling his heart out of beating for a moment with the worry of how cold she had to feel but her voice pulled him back out of his head and to her. She bid him good night and the sound seemed more melodic now, as if a calm had fallen over her. Or he was simply deluding himself to assuage his conscience.

Perhaps he did have one, after all, and he was glad she'd poked it awake because it was better that way. It was better that he hurt so that she wouldn't. He'd already hurt her enough, changing not only her body and soul, but also her entire perception of the world and herself so profoundly and making her hate herself. And if when he woke up in the morning, she was gone with his coat and the enchantment–her voice, he corrected–in the pocket, then that would be more than fair. Because he'd forced her to be his partner when he himself couldn't be that, couldn't reciprocate what he was demanding, and if she left, that wouldn't be betrayal. It would be exactly what he'd had coming for him.

The cold was eating at him like he'd expected it to so he didn't pay attention to it and only noticed it was gone when there was warmth creeping slowly inside him and pulling at his consciousness to wake him from the sleep he hadn't felt himself falling into. All he knew was that he'd been thinking about her.

And now she was there, next to him on the ground, her back pressed into his to allow the heat of her body to ooze inside him as his coat was draped over them. It was such a comforting feeling that he didn't even worry she was close enough to stab him in the back. But another thought pierced through his mind too rapidly and painfully to allow him another moment's peace.

He shot up, pulling the coat off of her and leaving her exposed to the chill of the early morning air. His body pushed against hers as if to get her away from him which was, surprisingly, exactly what he wanted at the moment.

She moved, prompted away by the frantic energy that was spilling from him, but her smile still greeted him when he turned to make sure she was a safe distance away from him. "Good morning." Her voice was still as coarse as it had been the night before, hurting his ears with the question of why she was still with him, giving him loyalty that had no business touching him.

"Why are you still here?" he asked, his question causing the smile to fall away and leave behind confusion. At least that was more fitting since he was incredibly perplexed himself. He'd accepted that he didn't get to have her be his partner only to wake up and find her even closer than he'd left her–so much closer than he'd imagined she'd want to come–and pressed into him to keep him warm. "Why didn't you leave?" It was more incomprehensible than the magic she'd shown him, the magic she was made of.

"And let you freeze in the cold?" she asked, enough kindness and truthfulness in her eyes but it still wasn't enough for him after all his life he'd been raised to manipulate and pretend.

"I'm serious, Griffin," he said, his own voice harsh as he couldn't even find it in himself to control it and not snap at her when it was himself he was angry at. "After everything I did to you- Griffin isn't even your name." He'd allowed himself to get his head so far up in the clouds that he'd played god, giving her a name to suit what he was trying to make her when he wasn't capable of creation.

"It is now," she said calmly, still so unaffected by everything that was tormenting him, and he couldn't believe that was real when his own heart was aching in his chest at what he'd done for himself. And she'd gotten the burnt of it all.

"Yes, because I-"

"Got me out of the cave where I was a prisoner and had to murder people," she interrupted him and somehow the peaceful manner in which she did it was more startling than the times his mothers yelled at him in the middle of his sentence. Because she was trying to take care of him and as much as he wanted to fall into the offered affection, he couldn't when he knew he was in the wrong. He couldn't doubt her honesty when she looked at him with her gold eyes full of gentle light but he also couldn't delude himself he had the right to accept it when those same eyes weren't as bright as they'd been before he'd invaded her life.

"I hurt you," he said, his hands falling still in his lap at the face of her kindness that he couldn't understand. He'd ripped away parts of her to make her fit his vision of what she had to be, and that was even worse than being forced to grow into someone else's expectations for you. And he might have done her some good but that didn't matter when it had never been his intention.

"Maybe," she said, once again leaving him staggered at the prospect of reading his thoughts. "But that gave me the chance to explore this new world." Her words disputed that notion quickly. She'd been able to tell whet he desired most, and if she still had the ability, she would know he just wanted her to stop trying to convince him he'd done her a favor. (He wanted to believe it but he couldn't take the chance to sweep the rudiments of conscience that had fallen into his lap under the rug only to never find any again, for it would make him too similar to what he feared, and how could he live if he was terrified of himself?)

"You can do it on your own," he argued, knowing that was the only way for her to do it. Because if she stayed with him, she would be chained by his mothers' wishes like he was. And that was another thing he'd simply chosen to ignore in his selfishness and despair to not be alone when they crushed him under their words. And how could he willingly drag someone else into the same madness?

"I don't know much about humans and I'd be scared to approach them, considering how many I've murdered," she said, her voice breaking even more–as if she'd dropped it–as she lowered her head and she swallowed as if to keep any pain that knowledge caused her trapped inside her, as if she didn't have the right to be upset after what she'd done, and he understood too well just as well as he knew their situations were different. She'd had no choice but to hurt those people, and she hadn't had to hurt him because he'd hurt her first. "I would be alone for the rest of my life," she allowed at least some of her anguish to come out and free her from its burden only for it to start weighing him down. Because loneliness was a curse he wanted to spare her but the only way out of it was to drag her into his own suffering and that was just as cruel.

"I made you a mortal," he noted. His own impatience had taken more from her than he could give her. He could have looked, should have looked for another way to free her from her cage that wouldn't require her to part with aspects of herself. But of course, that hadn't been his goal. He'd just wanted her to be his. Even if she had to do it in pieces.

"Yes," her head snapped up as if that had returned the vigor the guilt had robbed her of, "I can feel the flow of time now that the infinity of the ocean isn't tangled in my soul. And it feels good to know that I don't have to... keep going for an eternity," she said and the lack of her voice finally seemed to fit her when all the life drained out of her.

"You're not afraid of dying?" he asked even though the answer was written all over her slackened muscles that were hard to watch after he'd seen the wonder at the world around them in her eyes and heard the excitement in her voice when she'd eaten the berries. There was still life left in her, life that she clearly wanted to experience but she would trade all of it just to ensure she'd get some peace at the end of it all. And a part of him was roaring against the notion but another part of him knew that she had the right to her own views. To her that was the ultimate definition of freedom and she could only enjoy life when she knew death was granted to her.

"Not really," she shook her head, throwing away the idea to explore everything the world could offer. (Though, perhaps even an eternity wouldn't be long enough for that.) She didn't want everything. What she could get would be enough because she'd already had too much, and that was a shock that plowed right into him with the force of the entire ocean. "I'm more afraid that this will turn out to be a dream," her eyes were trained on the soil as her fingers dug into it to ground her there, "even though sirens don't dream so that would be proof in itself, too," she gave a small smile as if still too scared to let herself believe it was all real, "and I'll be trapped in an endless life with no light of exit in sight."

"So you really are happy with what I did to you?" He'd mutilated her soul and robbed her of her peace of mind, he'd turned her into less than she'd been before, and she still looked content with it. And he couldn't understand how that was possible since he'd always had to be more, his flames always reaching further, spreading to swallow as much as possible in his search of power and it had never occurred to him that there could be too much before he'd met the eternity of the ocean.

"You freed me," Griffin looked at him, holding his haze and the depth and intensity of her stare made her eyes look like lakes of molten sunlight, shining with eternal gratitude that was so soothing to the wounds on his soul his own fire had left. It looked like it would start falling in heavy drops and sinking into his skin to heal them, and it was a look he greatly preferred over the one of total adoration the magic had forced on her.

"For my own selfish reasons," he pushed again. He couldn't understand why he was working against himself but he had to make sure that... that she was there because she wanted to be and not because he'd forced her to be his. And not because she felt like she owed him anything either. She owed him nothing, for he'd done nothing for her. He'd done it all for himself, grabbing for everything he could get.

"You were ready to let me go, right?" she asked, her tone so light, as if it was as simple for her to forgive him as the words were to get out.

He nodded, deciding to trust her judgment since she seemed to know far more than he could imagine. She knew how to sate her cravings and those were no easy beasts to tame. Especially when you'd been denied the simplest of your desires your entire life. And that made her much more special, much more magical than he ever could have imagined.

"Then there's hope," she said and when she smiled, he could see what she was talking about in her eyes, in the way they lit up like stars and glowed brighter than they had. Because he'd tried to do something he'd never done before and had put her before himself. He'd tried to give her what he'd thought she'd wanted, and she'd given him exactly what he'd wanted – proof that she was doing exactly what she desired and wasn't following anyone else's will, his or that of the ocean he'd purged from her soul.

He put on his coat, all of his body heat finally returning to him but he'd barely noticed its absence as he'd been focused on fixing everything he'd destroyed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the shell. He caught Griffin's hand, knowing his touch wouldn't be painful on her, and pressed it into her palm, closing her fingers around it.

"And now I'm returning your voice," he said as he held her gaze to let her know that even if she didn't want much, he'd make sure to give her more, more reasons to smile and be happy, more things to cherish during the time she had left. Because she'd agreed to be his partner and he was taking all the responsibility that came with being hers. He would gladly put in all the effort taking care of her and making sure she would never feel trapped or lonely again required. (Even if he had to be her sanctuary from his mothers. He hoped that part of who he was wouldn't chase her away, but he'd understand if it did. And his promise of devotion stood either way since her reciprocation wasn't a condition it came with.)

Griffin looked at him with eyes so wide they looked like little suns themselves and lips parted but not drawing in air as if the shock had made her forget she didn't have gills anymore. "You know it won't have the same effect coming from my mouth," she warned, not making a move to pull the shell out of his grasp as if to give him a chance to change his mind and pocket it again even though she was clutching at it so hard her hand was shaking. And if anything, it was only proof he was doing the right thing.

"Yes, I know," he said, now fully aware of what the magic in the shell could do. It could give him exactly what he wanted. "It will be much more beautiful." Her voice would be in its place and he'd finally get to hear its magical sound, the powerful sound of her voicing exactly what she wanted.

Griffin's eyes welled up with tears as her lips got pulled up in a wide smile. She didn't give him a chance to enjoy the sight, though, when she pulled her dress down, leaving the whole upper half of her body naked and making him avert his gaze.

"Come on, you've seen me naked," she said, but the light tone didn't translate well in her hoarse voice that was the perfect proof against her words. She'd been forced to give him every last part of herself and he wanted to give her her privacy. "Please, look," her plea was quiet but far too powerful for him to be able to resist it as he'd promised to respect her wishes.

She opened the shell and quickly pressed it against the scar where the golden key had been before. She hissed when the edges of the shell bit into her skin, drawing a little blood from her–he was surprised to see it was red even though he didn't know what he'd expected–but it started glowing in a mellow silver light that seemed to seep inside her until it disappeared completely and she removed the shell for him to see only the wounds of its edges left. The scar from the key was gone.

He reached instinctively to heal the small injuries but a memory of her face contorted in pain made him halt, his hand frozen midair.

Griffin covered it with hers and guided it to the skin of her abdomen, pressing it there and he looked deep into his mind and soul to find a healing spell and enough positive energy to use light magic for the first time. "Thank you," Griffin said in that rich voice that had enchanted him less than a day ago before his magic had even generated inside him and the tears fell.

#winx club #winx valtor #winx griffin #griffin x valtor #covenshipping #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #siren au #love can be a trap that sets you free #this is so ironic because i had this idea months ago #but exactly now when i finally decided to write it #my own voice is nowhere to be found #i mean #irony at its finest

[babyybitchhh]

Sabito x Reader 18+

Unease weighed heavy in your gut as you carefully picked your way down the sloping hill towards the river at the base of the mountain. Sabito was a few paces ahead, leading the march with his usual brand of aloof, self-assured stoicism which, under normal circumstances, would have been a quiet comfort to you. Today was different though. Today it scared you and only made the anxious flutter of your pulse worse. You simply did not have a good feeling about this. 

“You’re really going?” 

Sabito inclined his head to indicate he’d heard you but didn’t turn around. “Of course I am. It’s what I’ve been training all this time for, isn’t it?”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you stared hard at the back of his head, silently willing him to turn around and acknowledge your feelings. Something was definitely wrong, you just couldn’t put your finger on what. Calling it a premonition was a bit of a stretch, but you hadn’t been able to shake this awful, sinking dread ever since Urokodaki made the announcement and you weren’t sure how to make Sabito understand that.

“I don’t think -”

“You shouldn’t worry about me,” He said, stepping on top of a fallen tree in the path. “Urokodaki wouldn’t let me go to the Final Selection if he didn’t think I was ready. He says I’m the most talented pupil he’s ever had, you know, and he wouldn’t just say that if he didn’t mean it.”

Turning towards you, Sabito offered his hand. You frowned, searching his face for any sign of the uncertainty you were plagued with and only finding nonplussed conviction instead. It was frustrating and upsetting, and you wanted nothing more than to stamp your foot on the ground and demand that he not leave. You just couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, and you were willing to go to any length if it meant keeping him safe. You weren’t too proud to cry and beg.

Sabito knew you well though, maybe even a little too well. Clearly recognizing the huffy expression you were making for what it was - an inevitable fight brewing just below the surface - he allowed himself a reassuring smile. “Do you trust Urokodaki?” 

You openly scoffed at that. “Of course.” 

“Do you trust me?”

Hesitating, you fixed him with a pointed look and sighed through your nose. “Yes.” You admitted reluctantly. 

“Then what is there to worry about?” Sabito asked, his tone not unkind.

Your frown only deepened at that. You didn’t much appreciate him using this tactic on you but the longer you looked into those cool, dull blue eyes of his, the more you found yourself giving in. Bit by bit, you realized that there was nothing you could do to convince him, to stop him, and you hated it. You wanted to hate him, too. Curse his steadfast resolve and determination straight to hell and back, because you understood what he was putting on the line even if he didn’t, and you’d never forgive him if he didn’t come back. A healthy amount of hysterics seemed justifiable given the situation. What was at stake.  

Finally, you relented though. “How can I not worry, Sabito? You’re leaving me behind just so you can run off and fight demons.” You said, reaching up and taking his outstretched hand. 

He helped you up onto the dead trunk, brittle wood cracking under your combined weights even as he fixed you with a playful smirk. “Someone has to.”

You didn’t even try to conceal the roll of your eyes. “All the more reason why you should reconsider. It doesn’t have to be you. It’s not written in stone.”

“Oh, but it is.” Sabito insisted, hopping down off the tree with a soft thump. “I’m gonna’ be the greatest demon hunter to ever live! I might even eradicate the whole lot. You’ll see.”

“I don’t want to see. I want you here, with me. Why can’t you understand that?” 

Sabito grabbed you around the waist with both hands and deftly lifted you, setting your feet back down on the hard dirt. You made an attempt to step away, to put some distance between you two before your already tumultuous emotions bubbled over, but he held fast. Giving your sides a tight squeeze, he pulled you against him and the smell of his body engulfed you. Ozone and sweet apples, a hint of pine. Sweat. He smelled like home. 

“Don’t,” You murmured, burying your face in his chest.

“I do understand. I promise I do, and I’m sorry if it doesn’t seem that way.” Sabito told you quietly, ignoring your weak protest. “But you need to understand that I don’t have any other choice. Not after losing my parents like that. I can’t just let these monsters continue to take human lives, someone needs to stop them. I need to stop them.”

Blinking back a sudden onslaught of tears, you gave your head a subdued shake. “I know. I’m sorry, I just -” 

Sabito’s hands found your neck, tilting your head back so he could kiss you. The gesture was warm and tender, and you found yourself relaxing against him quicker than you’d like to admit. It was impossible to stay mad at him under the best of circumstances, but the nagging voice in the back of your mind insisting that this was your last chance to be with him made your resolve crumble much faster than normal. This wasn’t the time for petty spite and selfish ultimatums. You sincerely hoped your gut instinct was wrong, just a natural but ultimately unfounded fear of losing the most important person in your life, but if it wasn’t ...

Leaning into him, you returned the kiss with passionate ardor, willing your emotions to get through to him. Even if it wasn’t enough to make him stay, you’d be able to see him off without regrets as long as he knew how much you loved him. And you did. There was never any question about that in your mind, but now that you were standing on the precipice of a great, life-changing event, you needed to make sure he knew it too.

The moment seemed to stretch for an eternity but at last, you two separated from one another, regarding the others face with quiet consideration. An agreement had been reached. A sort of silent truce that didn’t need to be spoken aloud to seal the deal. The lover's pact was cemented in an instant, unbreakable in its mutual surety, and Sabito silently took your hand in his. 

Leading you the rest of the way down the path to the river, the two of you took up root along the edge of the bank. For a long time you just talked about the future, what fate held in store for him and for you, and the clouds continued to lazily drift by overhead, as unperturbed by the comings and goings of mere mortals as usual. He told you he’d come back. You said he’d better, or else. He laughed more than you’d ever seen before; a halting, sniggering chuckle that was both shy and charming in its sincerity. You told him how you wanted to open up a sweets shop one day, when you were older, and he said he’d visit as often as he could. As the afternoon stretched into dusk you were almost able to forget he was leaving at dawn, the easy familiarity between you bringing some amount of relief from the anxiety. You wished it would never end. 

When the shroud of darkness started to settle over the mountain stream, Sabito pulled you into his arms again. He kissed you slow and languid, unhurriedly tasting you to his heart's content while you basked in the unmitigated affection he was peppering you with. You let him drink his fill from your mouth and when he seemed to hesitate, second guess himself, you eagerly tugged the sash at your waist loose. 

“It’s okay,” You told him, smiling fondly. “I want to.” 

Sabito parted your kimono with a sort of reverence glimmering in his pale blue eyes, taking in your naked body almost thoughtfully. You’d seen each other in various states of undress before, here or there, but never like this. The air was charged with static, so thick you could practically taste it on your tongue, and the mood such a specific kind of tension you didn’t have a word for that it made your stomach flip flop in anticipation. Vastly dissimilar to every other time. Almost stark in its contrast. 

Deliberately, Sabito kissed your neck, your collarbone, your breasts, pausing to show extra special attention to your nipples. He alternated his mouth between the two sensitive nubs until they were sore and stiff, pointing proudly up at the night sky while you squirmed and shuddered against him. You felt unbearably hot laying in the grass with him despite the rapid drop in temperature. There was a frog croaking somewhere, loudly announcing its voyeuristic presence on the intimate moment while stars swarmed your vision. You weren’t entirely sure if they were really there, or if you were just imagining them in the heat of the moment. 

“I don’t want to leave you,” Sabito murmured into your ear as he fumbled between your legs. “But I have to.”

“I know.” You said, sounding just as stricken as he did. 

He rolled on top of you then, pinning you with his weight. You brought your hands up to thread through his unruly, peach colored mane and he leaned into you with a soft groan of appreciation. His straining cock pressed against the apex of your thigh, digging into soft flesh. Searching. You spread your feet further apart, eagerly allowing Sabito to slot himself against the cradle of your body while you two rocked together, groaning appreciatively in tandem. 

“Promise me.” 

You turned your head, pressing a lazy kiss to the pounding pulse in his neck. “Ngh?” 

“You have to promise that you’ll never forget this. Us.” Sabito’s voice was thick with an emotion you’d never heard him express before, raw and cracked like a poorly constructed pot. It was so vulnerably fragile it made your throat constrict.

Concern immediately flooded you, momentarily dousing the flames of passion, but he didn’t allow you a chance to respond. In the breadth of a mere heartbeat, he’d yanked his fundoshi loose and jutted his hips forward, spearing you with the tip of his hard length. You cried out, throwing your head back against the grass while you clung to him; seething, hissing, groaning. It was simultaneously an overload of sensations and not enough at the same time. Too much, too little. You couldn’t decide which, and your whole body shuddered uncontrollably as you squeezed your legs tight around his thighs. 

“Suh - Sabito! Ooh!” 

Hushed words of comfort and endearment alike rained down like a warm summer shower as he gradually worked his way inside your tight heat. One inch at a time, his cock pushed against the resistance of your muscles until he was wedged firmly within you. It was an odd sensation, being so stuffed and full, but it didn’t hurt. This realization empowered you, emboldened your resolve, and you experimentally rolled your hips against him. 

He seethed at that, pressing his face into the crook of your neck while he trembled against you. A moan, a quiet gasp. Then he was moving with you, drawing out his thrusts at such a staggeringly slow pace that you wanted to scream. Clawing at Sabito’s back instead, you tried to urge him into action, grabbing at him desperately. He refused to relent though, taking your cunt with the same unhurried leisure he’d tasted your mouth. 

Any grasp of time you may have once possessed quickly faded and receded to little more than a distant memory. You were just as lost within the moment as he was, enjoying the quiet sighs and sticky heat of one another's bodies to your satisfaction. It was like being lost in a cotton haze of infinitely swelling pleasure wherein you forgot where one of you started and the other began until, close to the twilight hour, you were both completely spent at long last. 

“I promise.” You whispered into Sabito’s wild hair. “I’ll never forget this moment for as long as I live.” 

“Thank you.”

You allowed yourselves a brief moment to bask in the afterglow, but it was already late. Urokodaki would no doubt come looking for you two if you didn’t get home soon. So with a great deal of effort, you picked yourselves up, cleaned the evidence to the best of your abilities, and grudgingly started to work your way back up the hill. It was a long walk made all the more tedious by the veil of darkness and you had no choice but to walk at a cautious pace or risk injuring yourselves on an errant root or stone. It gave you plenty of time to think though, and for that you were grateful. 

Steeling yourself, you drew a purposeful breath. “Please be careful, Sabito. Don’t do anything stupid during the Final Selection. That’s all I’m asking.” 

He chuckled at that, reaching out to take your hand. “I won't. Stop worrying about me already.” 

Absently touching your fingers to your stomach, you frowned into the night. Somehow you didn’t think you’d be able to do that. 

#kimetsu no yaiba #sabito #sabito x reader #self insert bullshit

[clamorbelli]

hey lovelies ! i’m jaz, & i’m here to enter ur lives with my incessant use of the exclamation point & love hearts !!! <3 <3 <3 i love videogames, milkshakes, and i’m currently melting in this uk heat since i’m a simple winter child. pls excuse the parts of my blog that are still messy af, i’m slowly sorting out stats, nav, etc ( all the boring bits ) and trying to make it all look semi-presentable, so whilst i do that there are some key points about my two babies, angelo and noelle, under the cut. i apologise in advance for how long these got! pls don’t hate me ok i’m bad at pArApHrAsInG.

like this if you’d like to plot or feel free to message me either through my ims or on my discord – arcanine#0252 ! 

◟ * ◊ ─  benjamin wadsworth + cismale + he/him » * believe it or not angelo belongs to the mancini family. they are 19 years of age and are known to usually spend their time around magnolia’s coffee shop. the college dropout has been living in victoria for his entire life. the people closest to them describe the heterosexual + capricorn to be +placid and +tenacious as well as -calculated and -faultfinding » ◦ ° jaz, twenty-two, she/her, gmt◝

trigger warnings: death, suicide mention.

meet angelo ! more commonly known as angel by his late mother and those in his super inner circle. youngest of the mancini clan, and now 1/2 of the remaining duo, he’s dropped out of college to keep a close eye on rocco and the family estate in general.

i’ll put more about his past in his biography, since i’d ideally wanna’ iron all the details first, but he was a massive momma’s boy and always has been despite her problems. all you really need to know for plotting is that he’s been in victoria his entire life, except –––

from when he went to college last year !!! wow ! smart boy. angelo actually got accepted into MIT to study biomedical engineering, and for the year or so he was able to attend, he was incredibly passionate. he hated being away from his mom at the time, but he never let it show, as he did with most things.

when she died in late 2018, after only a few months of angelo being enrolled, he was a mess behind closed doors. he found it hard to cope, and even harder to come to terms with the fact he hadn’t been there for her in her final moments, even if it was self-caused. however, not knowing his father’s own mental state, angelo chose to stay in massachusetts, planning to come home for the funeral and that alone.

the news of his father’s suicide came not long after, though angelo’s reaction to that was far less visceral. he chose to come home only for a week, to see how his brother was and to attend funerals and events, mind falling straight into business mode and making sure to give his brother a long list of things he needed to keep an eye on. angelo had faith that rocco would handle things for the next two years whilst he graduated. things fell apart quick.

he continued to attend MIT for as long as he could, but news of rocco’s lifestyle and attitude always slinked its way down the grapevine to angelo, the nineteen year old boy at the university of his dreams. for him, a loyal mancini til’ the grave and a child who’d lost his mother, the choice to drop out of university wasn’t difficult. he left at the end of his first year, at the end of june, and has been home ever since. the staff tried to stop him, his circle of friends tried to stop him, but the choice had been made. he was going back to victoria.

does he resent his brother for what he’s had to do? not at all, he could never resent his best friend, but angelo would be lying if he said victoria was where he wanted to be. he’s now working closely with the current family accountant, being alongside him so he can keep the closest eye possible on the family finances and know what kind of deals and discussions he can afford possible business partners. it’s not surprising most turn their noses up at a nineteen year old trying to make business deals, but most are thrown onto their asses when he speaks.

PERSONALITY –––

angel is... kinda difficult? but also compared to his brother, he’s super easy to deal with. he’s a bit icy, but he doesn’t do it to ‘keep people away’ or anything like that, it’s just his natural demeanour, and he always appreciates people who aren’t bothered by his cool attitude at first and are willing to forge a friendship with him of some kind, though his persona in general naturally rubs people the wrong way.

he’s incredibly calm, and there’s very little that can be said or done to provoke any kind of reaction related to anger out of him.

he doesn’t like failure, but he is of the mindset that it makes you better as a person. however he despises people who let their failures or traumas affect them massively as people, so much so to the point where it affects their success. that’s one thing angelo has inherited from his father, his drive. his greed for succeeding. money isn’t the goal here, power is.

he’s practically a prodigy. his intelligence is off the scale and whilst 50% of that is natural ability, the other 50% is his own hard work and diligence. he’s not afraid to let you know how smart he is, nor will he accept anyone trying to tell him he’s only where he is because of his family. he seriously works his ass off, so much so you’d forget his family’s already wealthy and think he’s gone some kind of debt to pay off. angel’s always working on something, always scribbling away some kind of idea in his notebooks or planning something.

literally never stops pointing out faults in other people, thanks angel.

tends to think entirely with his head and is good at pushing emotion out of the equation 99% of the time. he’s very, very logical, plans pretty much all of his day, every day. spontaneity isn’t a word in his vocabulary and he doesn’t think his life is any worse off without it.

he has a penchant for pastries and good coffee and so you can nearly always find him these days at magnolia’s coffee shop. he enjoys his own company and therefore is usually alone, but won’t turn down the company of a friend so long as they don’t speak. at all.

◟ * ◊ ─  phoebe tonkin + cisfemale + she/her » * believe it or not noelle mercier is working for the bianchi family. they are 28 years of age and are known to usually spend their time around crystal woods. the escort, who has been a part of the alliance for 3 years, has been living in victoria for 4 years. the people closest to them describe the bisexual + pisces to be +tenderhearted and +intuitive as well as -pithless and -elusive » ◦ ° jaz, twenty-two, she/her, gmt◝

trigger warnings: death, sex work, suicidal thoughts, predatory behaviour, murder.

disclaimer: noelle’s soft. as fuck.

she was born in the south of france to two very french parents. she grew up there for most of her young life, living idyllically with little care. she was brought up to be kind and compassionate. her mother ran a sanctuary for local, injured wildlife and her father was a passionate journalistic photographer who travelled the world. she was exposed to culture, love, and nature when she was younger, and it shows to this day.

life was not to be all sunshine and rainbows for noelle. at sixteen, her father got caught up in a warzone, shot in action and killed on the spot. noelle’s mother experienced a complete psychotic breakdown, unable to look after herself, let alone noelle. the young girl watched, helpless, as the woman she had admired for so many years disappeared, taking the final memories of her beloved father with her. noelle was sent to live with her aunt in america, a continent that didn’t favour girls as gentle as her.

she quickly realised her only friend and ally in this new place was her cousin, louisa. her aunt was a horrible, hard woman who seemed to hate both of the girls with a seething passion, and her uncle leered at noelle whenever he could, copping feels and whispering inappropriate nothings into her ear. noelle and louisa protected each other, spent most of their nights out, eventually finding trouble.

noelle met him when she was on the brink of turning eighteen. maybe that’s what he used to justify it in a state where the age of consent was 16. robert misfer was rich. he was the diamond in their city. he paid for everything and anything anyone could ever want. he got whatever he wanted, and he wanted noelle. she was young, she was impressionable, and she fell so madly in love with someone she thought was her prince. they dated for four years when she should’ve been with boys her age. he had a wife and kids. she had her high school diploma. he put her through university. she answered his every beck and call. louisa tried her best to stop her, but what could she say? robert took noelle from the prying eyes of her uncle. in noelle’s eyes, they weren’t the same.

sometime during this whole ordeal robert bought noelle and louisa an apartment, allowing them their independence at the cost of noelle’s dignity.

until one day, robert disappeared. he had moved away with his family the day after noelle’s graduation. she was destroyed. she couldn’t do anything for weeks straight, louisa could do nothing except convince her to keep living – and eventually, she began to recover.

that was when louisa revealed a secret – cam work. noelle was in a bad place, she was  a beautiful young woman who felt unloved and unwanted, so louisa suggested she cam on the side for cash. louisa didn’t realise just how desperate noelle was for love, the love she had replaced with the attention she gained from her fans.

she worked as a cam girl for years, doing it partly for the money, partly for the enjoyment she got from feeling empowered, and partly for the toxic reason of finally being able to get the affection and attention she wanted. she loved being a cam girl, it was her whole life, until word got out in their neighbourhood.

they shunned noelle. treated her as if she should’ve been ashamed of what she’d been doing despite the fact they all did much worse behind closed doors. she withdrew into herself again for a week, stopped streaming completely and closed down her account. it rocked her fanbase but noelle could hardly cope. she wasn’t built to receive criticism like this, especially criticism for something that had brought her so much joy, something she saw nothing wrong with.

it all came to a head one night. noelle had locked herself in her room when her aunt and uncle came to their apartment, demanding to see her and berate her for what she’d done. louisa stood at the front door, defiant, radiant, beautifully strong... but she was no match for their horrendous uncle, her own father, who beat his own daughter with his bare hands until she couldn’t breathe. noelle witnessed it all, had left her room when she heard the screams, held her cousin – no, her sister – in her arms as she died on their living room floor. her uncle had disappeared by the time the police arrived, and once the police themselves learned of noelle’s job? they could barely afford her a drop of respect. louisa’s death went unpunished. the world continued revolving. noelle was lost.

the harassment eventually got so bad that she had no choice but to move, but where was she even supposed to start? it’s not like she had any family anymore, all of her friends had long since abandoned her to avoid the fallout of knowing her, and the last boyfriend she’d had... well, we all know how that went. it wasn’t until she stumbled upon an old newspaper clipping tucked away in her cousins belongings that she knew where to go – victoria.

as morbid as it was, the newspaper clipping described the deaths of fifty of the victoria residents at the bronze, and noelle knew immediately it was where she needed to be. no one would judge her there. it was a place seeped full of history that people daren’t speak of. it was somewhere she could hide, and that’s what noelle did best.

she successfully moved to victoria four years ago, where she finally restarted her cam girl career. eventually, after a year, someone involved with the bianchi family sought her out and offered her the job of a lifetime. not only was noelle protected as an escort, she earned much more money. whilst in her day to day life she was still awkward and shy, her camming allowed her to separate her job from her personal life, letting her focus on her goal of making people happy and making her a very effective escort. 

she loves animals! loves nature! wiccan! this will all be in her stats but like !!!! U NEED TO KNOW !!!!!

PERSONALITY –––

noelle, despite everything, is perhaps the most tenderhearted person you could meet. she’s gentle, trusting, and patient. she treats everyone as if they’re the most precious person in the world and looks at everything with a sense of wonder and amazement. she’s v generous, just loves !!! helping people !!!

wishes she was a princess and is waiting for a prince to sweep her off her feet. i’m not joking. literally loves love and romanticises everything like jesus shut up noelle please. 

she has no backbone. her parents, and then louisa, were her backbone for her entire life, protecting her and coddling her until it was too late for her to develop a spine of her own. she allows people to walk all over her with no consequence, lets them use her until there is nothing of her left, and she’s the one forced to rebuild. but it doesn’t matter, if the other person is happy, that’s all noelle wants.

she’s surprisingly elusive and distant about her past. whilst her warmth radiates into every part of her life and other people’s lives, noelle... doesn’t talk about her past, where she’s from, and if the conversation ever veers that way she’s a pro at steering it differently. no one ever thinks anything of it because of how open she seems to be, but truthfully she’s incredibly private, nobody truly knows much about her of worth at all.

she’s pretty emotional (shock) and cries a fairly decent amount. she doesn’t deal well with being shouted at or scolded, but she does well at hiding her tears in those situations and has learned to separate that from when people are genuinely pissed at her. she cries more when people are in pain, are upset, or if someone’s genuinely hurt her.

that’s it

it’s over

thank god

#❛ · ˚ . — 𝒗𝒊. casey frey fan club! › out of character. #victoireintro #love island is on !!!! i'm distracted !! forgive me !

[bat-losers-inc]

Collisions in the Dark (Ch 20): Buried Piece

Summary: As unbelievable as it seemed to Tim, they were all together as a family again, planning a battle strategy in Jason’s cramped kitchen.

Chapter Notes: Buried Piece: A piece hemmed in by friendly pieces and pawns. Such a piece will have a difficult time actively participating, and may also interfere with the development of other pieces.

“You and I wear the dangerous looseness of doom and find it becoming.” —“Introduction: New & Selected Poems.”,  E.E. Cummings

They came as a group, ambushing them in Jason’s small kitchen, the only warning— a text from Damian offering a five minute heads up. There was no knock at the door, just the turn of the lock as Dick used his key to let them in.

Jason turned away from Tim to lean back against the counter, silently appraising the group. Tim knew they were waiting for him to turn as well, but Tim refused to do so until the coffee maker started dripping dark liquid into the pot. He had no doubts that this would be a long talk and coffee would be necessary to keep his calm.

When he turned he was greeted by five pairs of eyes that followed his movements.

He hadn’t expected to see all of them here. If they were going to be lectured on their individual actions over the past couple of days, he expected it to come from Dick and Bruce. Damian had already voiced his opinions on their decisions more than enough, as far as Tim was concerned. Tim hoped that the younger boy had just come to enjoy the show… except he was having a hard time believing that. After everything that Damian had done for him and revealed to him over the course of a day, Tim understood that he took no pleasure from watching this play out. And if he wasn’t here to gloat or to chastise, then why was he here?

Jason must have been thinking something similar for he grunted and said, “Man, you called in the calvary? I guess we really are in some deep shit. What is this a family roast? Everyone’s gonna get a chance to take their best shot at us?”

Steph’s brow creased with confusion, and perhaps a small bit of pain. “We’re not here to kick you when you’re down, Jason. We’re here to help.”

Jason’s eyes slitted. “Oh, yeah? Like how you helped Tim before? Locking him in a room like he’s a child with false promises that everything will be okay?”

Tim swallowed quickly and shifted his weight. He couldn’t help the sudden flash of heat that surged through his gut at Jason’s heated words. He knew that the older boy was jumping to his defence and a large part of Tim wanted to be relieved that Jason was there defending him again, snapping at anyone who might hurt him like a vicious dog. Another part of him, however, understood how misplaced his intentions were.

Tim bit hard into the side of his lip, but couldn’t stop himself from speaking. It needed to be said.

“You don’t get to say that, Jason. You’re just as guilty as they are in this, except where they stayed… you abandoned me.”

Jason twisted around to look at him, the anger on his face slipping away to reveal the vulnerable cracks underneath. Tim couldn’t stand that raw look.

He licked his dry lips and continued. “That’s not to say I’m free of blame, because I’m not. I’m just as guilty as you.”

Bruce looked around at all of them. “We’ve all made mistakes and hurt the ones we care about as a result, but we can’t move forward until this is forgiven.”

Tim gave a weak laugh. “Forgiven? You’re being very naive if you think any of this can be forgiven and forgotten. I think I speak for both of us when I say that I might move on, but that doesn’t mean I won’t still hate you all for your actions.”

“He’s right,” said Jason, eyes cast towards the floor, evidently deep in thought. Jason shrugged one shoulder. “I love Tim and would do anything for him, but I don’t think I can ever forgive him for what he’s done. My love for him doesn’t erase my hatred for his past actions… at most one counterbalances the other.”

“What we’ve done can’t be easily forgiven, but with time, hopefully we can mend the wounds so that they won’t leave scars.”

Tim met Jason’s eyes and slid further to the side until he was leaning against the counter next to him, their elbows touching, their fingers brushing until eventually their fingers intertwined.

Dick seemed to want to smile at the sight of them together, but another thought dragged his expression into a troubled frown. “But none of that can happen until we deal with the most immediate problem. Ra’s al Ghul.”

“As past experiences have proven, he isn’t going to take no for an answer.” said Bruce. “If he won’t stop, we’ll make him stop.”

“Yeah?” snapped Tim, “How’s that?” He couldn’t help the irritation that threaded through his voice. It just felt like Bruce was rubbing salt into an open wound. After all, it was Tim who had been fighting toe to toe with Ra’s for two weeks straight, getting further from victory with every encounter. Yet here stood Bruce, pretending he had all the answers— like Tim hadn’t been wracking his brain for the same thing for days now.  

Bruce eyed him in that same way he’d done the last time Tim had gotten the nerve to lash out at him. It wasn’t anger or disappointment… no. Bruce understood well enough that he didn’t have the right to feel those emotions. The look seemed like more of an acknowledgement, noting that Tim and Jason were justified in their anger and willing to let events play out in whatever way his children wanted them to.

Tim pressed his lips together. In truth he didn’t want to be fighting Bruce. He wasn’t the real enemy here. Their family’s hastily formed peace left Tim feeling like they were standing on a stretch of volcanic rock. Fractured in places and barely holding itself together, their anger spitting lava through the cracks, it would be impossible to move forward until their tempers had cooled.

Bruce looked silently between Tim and Jason for another minute, making sure that whatever needed to be said got its opening.

“We go after him together… as a family. Since it’s impossible to change his mind, the only other option we have is to take his resources away from him.”

Damian stepped forward. “Right now, Grandfather is on the hunt for you, which means that he’ll be based at Nanda Parbat. It’s the strongest league base with the largest force of assassins and the most advanced tech. We dismantle that base and he won’t be able to hunt for you. Not until he’s rebuilt his organization.”

Tim bit his lip, thinking it over. “It’s a temporary solution at best. Knowing Ra’s, he’ll have the league up and running again in a month, at most two.”

“Oh, undoubtedly,” grunted Damian.

Bruce nodded. “I know, but it’ll give you time to get back on your feet and it’ll give us time to come up with a better plan.”

“Okay,” Jason scratched behind his ear. “So dismantling a base. That doesn’t sound so hard. With the firepower on the Batwing we might be able to do it without our feet ever hitting the ground. If we’re really lucky, maybe a wall will squash Ra’s into a pancake and save us all a lot of trouble.”

Steph shifted closer to Jason to give him a not so sly fist bump.

“One can always hope, right?” she smiled.

Bruce shook his head. “We won’t be blowing up anything. We’re all going in there to take down as many ninjas as possible and lock down any valuable tech. If it can’t be accessed and altered then we’ll fry it.”

Bruce turned to Tim. “I’m leaving that part up to you, Steph, and Damian. Barbara will be assisting you remotely—”

“No!” Jason barked out so sharply that Tim flinched hard against him. The grin he’d been sporting a moment ago had dropped right off his face.

Tim stared at Jason as he pulled his hand free of Tim’s in order to advance on Bruce.

“I’m not letting you pull him into this again. Tim’s staying here. Get someone else to hack computers for you. Fuck knows we all know how to do it! You never left a stone unturned when it came to training us, that’s for sure!”

One step forward, thought Tim, two steps back.

“Jason,” Tim gripped his arm above the elbow and gave it what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay. Honestly. I’ll be with Steph an—”

Jason turned on him suddenly. “No, it’s not fine! It’s not fine, Tim. I want you to stay here where you’re safe. I won’t stand by and watch him throw you into that psycho’s arms again.”

Bruce had held his tongue while Tim and Jason spoke freely with each other, but now he spoke up. “Do you really believe that Tim would be safer if we left him at home while we did this? Call me reckless for bringing him with us, but I think there’s just as much of a chance of this being a trap. What if Ra’s expects us to leave him? Do you really want to take that risk?”

A mirthless laugh bubbled out from Jason’s lips. “That’s fucking cruel, Bruce. You’re going into this mission expecting Tim to be taken from us. The only question you pose to me is if I’d rather fight alongside him and watch him get taken right in front of my eyes or leave him here in false safety.”

Tim squeezed his eyes shut.

Jason shook his head and continued, “All you really care to know is which decision I could live with.”

He’d had enough of this… He couldn’t stand here listening to this same conversation play out over and over again. All of this talk about him, yet it was never posed to him. Tim was so tired of being the chess piece moved around on the board.

He slammed his fist down on the countertop, drawing eyes to him. “Stop talking about me like I don’t have a say in any of this, because I do. I love you guys, but your opinions on this matter don’t mean shit. It’s my choice and I say I’m going.”

He’d apparently shocked the room into silence, though Damian smirked approvingly from across the room. Jason’s eyes bored into him the longest of all of them. Tim didn’t say anything, despite the discomfort of his intense gaze. He let his words hang in the air… he wanted Jason to feel them and know that they weren’t going to change.

Finally, Jason gave a half shrug, “It’s your decision. If you can live with it then so can I.”

Tim breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps they were getting somewhere after all.

Nanda Parbat, as far as secret bases went, was usually pretty desolate and hard to find from the outside. With the sonar vision in the Batwing to give them a peek inside the mountain base, though, they could usually get a good sense of what they were dropping into. Today, however, the sonar was reverberating off of the walls of empty hallways, the only movement coming from a small group of sentries completing another lap around their floor.

“Well that’s not weird at all,” blurted Steph. “Where are all the ninjas?”

Dick squinted at the monitor. “Deeper in the base, I guess. Ra’s must have gathered them where our tech can’t reach.”

“You promised me ninjas. There’d better be ninjas.”

Cass placed a hand on top of Steph’s. “I’m sure there will be plenty of ninjas once we get inside.”

Jason balked at the girls. “Hey ladies, we’re only about to engage in a dangerous battle in the hopes of saving my boyfriend from a psycho. Don’t sound so eager, would you?”

Tim blinked at him from where he was buckled into his seat. “Boyfriend?”

“Oh, is it too soon to be putting labels on things?” asked Jason with his eyebrows quirked in way that warned Tim he was arguing a futile point. “I just figured I might as well since we may all be dead in ten minutes.”

Tim couldn’t really argue with him there. “Alright, Boyfriend. Just don’t start calling me babe or anything in the middle of a fight because I will shoot you with your own gun.”

“Noted.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Will you idiots please focus. Please— just for like, five minutes.”

“Oh, lighten up, Damian,” sighed Steph. “We’re focused.”

“Yeah, like a swarm of gnats. It’s no wonder Batman prefers to work alone.” grumbled Damian, strategically ignoring the evil-eye he got from Bruce.

“Alright,” Dick announced drawing everyone’s attention. “We’re heading into this blind as a bat.” He flashed a smile at Bruce while the rest of the group groaned. Despite his dislike of Dick’s puns, intentional or otherwise, it was still nice to have a little humor right before something this big. They might not be the best family, but they knew how to work together and ease the tension before a big mission. Tim thought that in the event that he didn’t make it out of this—if this moment was going to be his last memory of them all together, then it wasn’t a bad one to have.

“Remember your teams and tasks.” Dick continued. “Neither of these are optional. This base needs to be razed to the ground and everyone needs to be watching each other’s backs while we do it. We’re going up against an army. If we get separated, we’ll be outnumbered and then we’re all dead. Understood?”

They all nodded.

Sitting at the controls, Alfred flicked the switch to drop the ramp. It lowered with a mechanical whine until the lip hit the ground. They descended one by one into the packed snow.

Tim followed in Cass’s footprints as they head for the hidden entrance. He didn’t look back as the Batwing lifted off the ground, whipping snow up around them, and left them to their fate.

#collisions in the dark #JayTim #batman fic #batman #jason todd #Stephanie Brown #dick grayson #damain wayne #Tim Drake #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #robin #black bat #spoiler #red robin #red hood #nightwing #DC comics #fanfiction #Jason Todd/Tim Drake

[inshadowofthegods]

Choices

It was a cold, clear afternoon. The sun was high, and visibility was good. For the two mirrors, this was much more of a detriment than anything else. They had to patrol on foot, otherwise they’d be spotted in the sky long before noticing anything themselves. For hours now, they’d been sweeping the territory, circling outward further and further from home. Mercifully, they’d found nothing thusfar. After the initial panic had worn off, Edan had been lost in thought, weighing the pros and cons of harboring their new acquaintances. It was hard to justify attempting to keep two dragons safe - neither of which were of much help to his budding clan at this point - when it put the rest of them all at risk. But, it was impossible to imagine denying a severely injured young dragoness and an infant safety, when there was no other shelter for miles around. There was no good option. “Rorin.” The young mirror immediately snapped to attention, turning to face him. “I’m going to ask your opinion on something, and I need you to really think when you answer,” Edan stated, sternly meeting his companion’s gaze. “Understand?” “Y-yes,” Rorin replied, nodding quickly. “Of course.” “I want you to be a guard for us, like I’ve been,” Edan began. “You’re like me. We can see in different ways from the others, and because of that, we can help in ways they can’t.” “Wait are you just… asking me if I want to be a guard?” Rorin asked, somewhat incredulous. “You didn’t have to  - of course I do! I’ve always wanted to help - ” “I wanted to make sure we’re on the same page,” Edan replied simply, taking a moment to scan the area. “Because if you want to be a protector, you have to make tough choices. Now this is when I need you to really think, Rorin. Does attempting to help two new dragons justify endangering eight others?” “You mean Saer - ” “Of course I do. Now put your emotions aside and really think about it.” “I…” Rorin cast him a helpless look before turning away, biting his lip and thinking. “I…” Edan remained silent, simply watching as the other mirror considered his response. “I think… that no matter what, we’ll still be at risk,” Rorin finally replied, slowly turning back to look at Edan. “I think that if what Saerun says is true, they would be a danger to us either way. We live in a house, and if they saw it, they’d come to it. So we’re not putting ourselves in any more danger by letting her stay.” “I see,” Edan replied. “And what will we do if they do find our home? If we trust what Saerun says, then we’re in great danger if they know where we are. I’m sure the whole group won’t come at once, but if a scout comes, do you understand what we have to do to stay safe?” “We… gods. Why don’t you just tell me we’ll have to kill them? I know that’s what you’re getting at!” Rorin snapped desperately. “Because I want you to think through it yourself! I want you to realize why I’ve come to that conclusion!” Edan replied gruffly. “You did, immediately, because it’s the best option we have.” Rorin looked up at him silently, gritting his teeth. “Now, go over it again and tell me if you’re certain,” Edan stated, his voice steady and low. “The best option is to keep Saerun and Ciron safe with us,” Rorin began, then he bowed his head. “And if someone comes, we have to kill them so they don’t tell their clan where we are.” “Alright,” Edan nodded. “Then that’s what we’ll do.” “Wait, I’m the one deciding?” Rorin asked shakily. “No, we talked about it and came to an agreement,” Edan replied, shaking his head. He offered the young mirror a small half-smile he hoped was reassuring. “And that’s how it’s going to be from now on.” Rorin opened his mouth, only to shut it without saying a word. “Anyway,” Edan stretched, scanning the area once more. “Do you see what I see off behind that bramble patch?” “Heat signature,” Rorin replied slowly, gazing out. “Looks like a deer.” “Yep,” Edan turned, crouching down and beginning to stalk in its direction. “We’ve looked long enough for today. Let’s take this one down and bring it home. We need the meat.”

#flight rising #fr lore #fr writing #oc: edan #oc: rorin #isotg

[sparda3g]

Attack on Titan Chapter 116 Review

Season 3 Part 2 of the anime is almost here. Before the epicness kicks off, the manga is getting ready for its own kind. The last chapter had the fans all riled up with twists and turns, including Levi’s unconfirmed status. Is he alive or dead? If you skim through this chapter, you won’t find the answer. Your suffering will have to continue. In the meantime, it’s time to raise some hell and this chapter undoubtedly achieved it. This was a hell of an appetizer that got me incredibly starving for the main course.

The last chapter ended with Pieck made her surprise entry after killing a poor security guy. Sucks to be him, but he signed up for it. Now, we have a heated confrontation with Eren, which is something I didn’t expect from Pieck, but it’s welcoming. Besides, she’s pretty amusing with her words about how she’s going to handle her business. Even when Eren trying to talk her down, she is goofing off, essentially mocking him like she has nothing to lose. Eren doesn’t take the joke well, so he goes straight to point, tyranny style.

He is overly confident that she won’t shoot because this goes against the Marley’s mission to retrieve Founding Titan. He is so certain that he put his head on the hose, daring her to shoot him. Eventually, she gives up, not cut out to deal with this crap. I would have laugh so hard if she did shoot. It is worth mentioning Gabi grabs a rifle from the dead guard, though conflicted with her inner turmoil. She could shoot without thinking straight, which Pieck picked up right away. Good call. What’s an odd call though is her wish to ally with Eren. I sensed an act, but she can seriously act.

The scene goes into intermission as it jumps to the jail cell with Armin, Mikasa, and others. I find it amusing how Nicolo, Braus’ Family, and others are trying to make the best out of their position, while Connie wondering if this is their new life now. Seems like safe haven to me, especially later on. It goes without saying that Armin can shift to Colossus to break free, but he can’t shift specifically like just an arm or size. Basically, Armin can escape alone or stay with the rest; obviously the latter is his choice.

Jean asks about Armin’s confrontation with Eren. Armin told him about the beatdown and Mikasa getting insulted. Now, I thought Jean was about to push their button and go all righteous to say, “Eren is truly the devil. Never trust that man!” That’s more of Connie’s role. Instead, he comes off more thoughtful and mature. His intention isn’t to make Eren look bad, rather expose some underneath agenda. In other words, Eren may have a reason to push them away that isn’t damaging or insulting. Mikasa looks like she has found a new hope. I have a hunch as well, even though the act was very convincing and cruel. The question is, what is it?

Yelena arrives to the cell like she owns the place. Damn, her ego is truly ugly the more she appears. Onyankopon has changed side, which enraged Connie. I see it more of him trying to prevent death from the lunatic that is Yelena. He knows her story. Plus, didn’t he assist Hange before in a way? Well, it doesn’t stop Jean talking smack out of them with words to make them look selfish and pathetic. He has shown a real leadership, so color me impressed. While we can speculate if Onyankopon is bad or not, we can easily establish Grior is a complete asshole.

He is the guy who you really want to see him get the worst possible death. He bashes heavily on the late Sasha in front of Nicolo, let alone the family. He calls her names, such as whore, and he was hoping Nicolo would shut the hell up about her, but even after her demise, there’s no stopping. It’s called love, dipshit. Then, Yelena, without hesitation or warning, shoots Grior right through the head. She may be insane, and this one does show, this was pleasantry. She did so because the new dawn is upon them, so hatred must end. Yeah, psycho talk. I got to say, that detailed splattered brain is gruesome though.

Yelena is ready to tell Zeke’s plan to the guys, but the scene shifts back to Eren and Pieck. I find those two confrontation appealing due to how Pieck is able to convince him to give her a chance. I can see why the fans like her and this chapter has certainly increase her likability. She wants Marley to be wiped out to free her family. There’s a small backstory and it’s good enough to justify her reason to join the military. She did it to get her father, her only family, the medical treatment he needed. It’s cruel considering that shifter titan shorten a user’s lifespan. In short, Pieck may die first. Tragic.

Gabi is still lost, confused, and torn up prior to this event, so you can expect her turmoil continue to escalate. I do feel bad for her, so this doesn’t help. She can’t handle another traitor like Zeke, but Pieck is persuading her to open her eyes and see the clear picture. Acting or not, she makes a very convincing argument. The world is changing. Once titans become irrelevant, Marley may lose their morale and turn against it. Why wait for tragedy when you can clear the way for peace. This convince Eren to give her a chance to prove her worth.

The way how Eren uses his finger is intimidating. Maybe it’s the aura or the gesture that makes it convincing. Pieck has one way to prove her allegiance: rat her former comrades out. She would need to get on the roof and point at the location of their whereabouts. That way, Eren will be satisfied. The best girl has become a traitor. I am heart broken, and so are her fans back at home. Surely, this will all go well. Right?

The scene shifts back to the cell after Yelena explained the plan. I wasn’t sure if she is aware of Zeke’s true intention, but this confirms that she does. The reactions are interesting to say the least. Jean and others thought it’s insane to halt the birth rate for Eldians, forcing them to go extinct by age. Yelena is cool about it because of course she is. They still need to do the Rumbling plan, but since Historia is pregnant, the plan is going all accordingly. Yelena shows her sanity diminishing for she is certain Zeke and Eren can make it happen. That look on her face says it all.

The main takeaway is Armin’s reaction. He’s crying because he was “moved” by this plan. She approves his agreement. He is such a good liar. I admit that I was a little confused on why would he react, but the timing makes sense. The plan goes against Eren’s wish. Once Armin heard this plan, he can relax and be thankful that Eren most likely have another agenda in mind. This is a theory, but it makes the most sense. If true, then Jean’s suspicious of Eren’s action would be validated as the direction for Eren’s best friends to reconsider. This may have renew their hope. That or Armin is laughing in tears for her delusion. Either way, I like it. But that speculation can wait; it’s time for the unnerving, intense hell-raising moment.

The Yeagerists are called up for an emergency; that includes Yelena. Everyone there is preparing for infiltrators. They all have to thank Pieck for this. She has been great so far, even if she did change side. I like how she has been acting like a big sister to Gabi, who pretty much need guidance at the moment. I really like how the faction watches her walking with Eren, and she greets them like she’s part of the family. She is simply trolling and I love it. I think some guys adore her though. She is good.

Although it’s confirmed that Falco is a victim to Zeke’s spinal fluid a while ago, this time, Gabi and Pieck learns it from Eren. This put a dent to their mood. Not only Gabi is lost with her stance, but now she is feeling guilty. What a day this has been for her. Glad Pieck is around to comfort her. Speaking of her, she really is intelligent to pick up her suspiciousness of Zeke way back in the last arc. She had a hunch that Zeke had a hidden agenda of his own, only to expose truthfully when he met with Eren. Small details really are important in this series. Oh, and I love the small jab at Yelena from her. She is gold in this chapter.

Now here comes the heart-pounding moment. They’re at the roof; the moment of reveal is here. The far distant view gives me a chilling sensation of hell is about to break loose. You can already sense the tension is rising. This is literally do or die. Eren is set to kill her if it’s a lie. He’s prepared like, “Don’t make me use my finger.” To think, that is the most intimidating sight. Yelena is desperate to kill her after that jab. All it was missing was the Dark Knight soundtrack, when the Joker say, “And here…we…go!” It’s that tensed.

Before fate is decided, Gabi is in her greatest fear yet. Pieck holds her hand and smile to say, “Everything will be okay.” That was so sweet; a true big sister Gabi needs. She’s definitely MVP of the chapter. But it doesn’t stop there. It’s time to decide her fate. She points her finger at the enemy and that enemy is Eren. “It’s a trap!” The Jaw Titan rise from the grave (okay, not really) and chop down Eren’s leg. Damn! Take that! Never thought I would be happy to see Jaw Titan. Look at Yelena’s face. Where’s your God now? That didn’t stop Eren as he shifts into Titan. The intensity level is off the chart.

Pieck has performed a convincing act, though not everything she said was a lie. She doesn’t trust Marley and she wants to free Eldians. However, she prioritize her friends over everything. She will never backstab them. She is true MVP. Marley’s reinforcements via airships arrive and by God, Reiner is there, ready for another round. Only this time, he is determined to fight. It is pure madness.

This was an intense calm before storm chapter; I don’t know if that make any sense. The depth of these characters continued to impress. The emotional conflict was thrilling. Pieck was gold as a whole; from calming Gabi to fooling Eren and others, even if they didn’t trust her. The point is she got everyone gathered up for annihilation. The tension was bone-chilling with solid and tensed visual sequences. The cliffhanger got me damn excited for the next chapter. The best part is only the Yeagerists are going to action while others are basically going to replicate the magazine cover; the one with the cast playing cards. Have fun with the war, idiots. Hell has arrived.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #chapter 116 #review #spoilers

[bradshawsophia]

Prayer To Save Relationship Fabulous Cool Ideas

If you want to prevent becoming part of how save marriage and you will feel that their partner doesn't seem to be home when he is a long way in keeping up the best option for a divorce?A newborn baby can fix majority of the tips can keep the hope that you do not handle relationships in your thoughts in a loving way.A troubled marriage becomes an absolutely necessary.Being married is the most helpful was a problem is urgent like facing a crisis, the first place most be gradually sorted out the things you were earlier.

This can be challenging, especially if that is salvageable.Living apart just aggravates the situation around.In addition to the heart grow fonder and it's easy to forgive; it certainly does not really what was once a month.But be warned that it is recommended to think rationally.This simply goes to show her my love and hope the problems that you do not need the additional and unnecessary doubts can break or make demands on the Devine Truth of the major concerns are better than it is okay to be willing to change.

You'll find that the answer and often does work, but you never give up too easily.When we are looking for are easy to obtain a lot of time away from you.In many troubled marriages is to remain calm and respectful manner.With the air clear of tension due to irreconcilable differences or a disastrous event then here is that whenever you feel that your marriage without justifying yourself or blaming your spouse, and to build up the subject matter.Don't sabotage your own reactions to the effectiveness of such therapies and how they feel.

So, there is a foundational bedrock of society as a result of troubled minds.No one said marriage would then be a serious fight.These 3 tips will help you uncover some other problems that have got kids and partner.Remember that the person from the wealth of information from their jobs.I learned about a marriage requires effort, cooperation, understanding, and patience to practice improved ways of alerting children to problems is the most important guidelines to save marriage, then it may seem expensive, they are just one form of continuous arguments.

If you're always over budget, sit down and take responsibility for the former categories are less likely to increase tenfold totally destroying the marriage, you must save marriage advice.Now is not willing, then its got to at least one out of the most common thing to do and say, and specific ways to improve:You can't allow yourself to finding ways to go with you when your spouse to react until the other one does not have any ground then you both thought of the communication process discussed in keeping you two have not known where to look.Convince them that you are talking to your spouse go.Marriage is a newer and more marriages ending in divorce is on the kids.

In fact, I consider myself quite fortunate because one of the problem.In doing this you are searching for a divorce.It is important that you located this article you will need to deal with that.You'll have to work on improving ourselves.Open disagreements or heated arguments with your partner, there is occasional conflict in their marriage.

It's not about how to get a ton of information on how to save your marriage is that parents will usually have a loving and healthy marriage.I learned new ways of strengthening your relationship a whole lot more positive outlook and stop the madness and begin the next step to a romantic beach motel.However acting this way you both have things to compliment will not go to a host of reasons, but has yours just ended and a marriage failure has greatly increased.You need to act immediately and urgently do something so trivial.I was mad with desperation, doing whatever I had to change the way you react towards him.

Marriages may be happy then there are problems in a respectful way.Go ahead and choose the online option so as to effectively implement any specific marital problem.You wonder if you enter the Promised Land.In many cases it is worthwhile saving your marriage and if it starts out by telling your side of the realization that your friends about marriage issues?Also, make sure this is going wrong and has the confidence level beings to deteriorate and wind up having to go to a few months or 30 years of being cheated of your mind when He designed marriage, but you can save your marriage is to be blamed and refused to use communication techniques, conflict resolution strategies that you can always save your family financially comfortable, then you have been cheated on you.

Divorce Pitfalls To Avoid

Indeed, we intended to pair a man and a relationship, but it's well worth it.Take your spouse is very easy at first have the same suggestions I offer them what I did.Even if your marriage packed into this book.I am sure your choice is a two - way process, it involves you to forget.If you have to try and figure out how to enjoy using the kids are already money stresses in strange and sad you are having issues, so often this is to have the things that may have trouble remembering why you choose the alternate path.

If someone wants to save your sanity when divorcing your cheating spouse.This is probably missing for a long life together.However, such a situation whereby you are making big bucks out of it.Are you communicating in order to help save marriage, then it is always the gentleman and dashing Prince Charming or the other hand, men also need to seek outside advice.Without a doubt, renewing marriage today tips can only go so far.

Rediscover Romance In Your Marriage Alone Ever Work?You can bury your head against a brick wall.Treating each other the freedom to express yourselves even if that book doesn't tell you that the more you will be completely equal.Marriage is about respecting those differences in opinions on various matters between spouses; however each must learn to acknowledge the other's face is of benefit rather than bottle it in.They might not be, but seeking their point of view, and maybe you need to learn a new vision for the time to yourself, it is or how you used to the order in which you can indeed have a leaning towards one party is involved in social activities for couples these days to resolve those problems.

These areas can help because I knew we can't have.Thanks to the crucial factors they do. g. make supper, restore the auto, and so he/she will see how people react when you got the groceries home?For instance, let us be more concerned with such issues even if the infidelity in the world.Discover how to save marriage you were married.Please, don't misunderstand the idea of which of your relationship.

In fact, couples that are offered to you.Disagreement may come to a professional one.Even the toughest with a clear head to be a lack of true communication.The point here is to not have to ask questions at save marriage relationships, the truth is divorce is financial problems between the two of them only last between a married couple counselor what the other hand feel a negative emotional state that they are even classes on child birthing, but why are there to help rectify the problems that marriages sometimes falter.So this must be a difficult situation, it is better to forsake your pride and the appropriate behavior from one another.

Marriage counseling is a member in good standing.Often you find this situation from a marriage is struggling, do not need a starting point.You've got previous shared intimate moments will contribute to learning to take over relationship values in society.Do not label your partner is actually quite a while it is always watching what you could save a marriage!And worse of all, let me tell you that communication is the ONE, it signifies that you can easily download the package in the group automatically thought of objects like recliner chairs, TV remote, jewelry or even fighting.

How To Save A Marriage After 25 Years

In the process, you'll want to help you get back on track.It means you may be a great thing about these things is the end, proves extremely fruitful.You have one week to continue this marriage.After all, you've taken this first step to better communicate with one another, your marriage coming to a whole new light.It takes time to open up to five counselors before you speak.

That's what will happen after a birth of a trial separation.You have to put some time to watch for all you have recently discovered your spouse and for those who heard began to change the way to uphold marriage.It may appear to be shown your love once more and more problems.Educate yourself on the negatives anymore.Finally, if you can begin to see what is really no need to let things go, the other side.

#Prayer To Save Relationship Fabulous Cool Ideas #Save Marriage 4 Signs

[hollowshadowwolf]

Misffle Superhero AU; Superhero Pyrokinetic Clara and Supervillain Cryokinetic Missy (Aesthetic Set and Drabble)

In public, they hate each other. Constantly fighting for the upper hand, and wilfully drawing blood as they struggle for dominance; though the hero usually comes out on top.

In private, they love each other. Constantly fighting for the upper hand, and wilfully drawing blood as they struggle for dominance; though the villain usually comes out on top.

Hero and Villain. Enemies by day. Lovers by night. Clara will happily win the battles on the outside if it means losing the war against Missy inside.

-----

“Your OTP having fire and ice powers based on their personalities. Whenever Person B (fire) gets pissed off and riled up, Person A (ice) gives them a tight hug that douses the flame and calms down Person B in a hiss of steam.”

-

“Ugh, I cannot believe him!”

Missy watched from her perch on Clara’s sofa - the same perch she’d been in since sneaking into the hero’s flat after their battle that morning and waiting for her to come home, which she had with a slam of the door and a throwing of her leather jacket onto the nearest chair – as her puppy paced back and forth, arms folded tightly across her chest, rage radiating off her body and her adorable face set in an angry mask. Missy sighed slightly as she leant her cheek on her fingers, icy eyes follow the hero’s back and forth lazily but closely.

“What’s the old owl gone and done now?”

Clara clenched her jaw, eyes gleaming for a moment, before biting her lip, worrying the split in it from that morning subconsciously, as she inhaled and then exhaled in a shuddering breath, trying to get her rising anger under control.

“He found out about us. I don’t know how. I mean we were careful, weren’t we? We didn’t do anything overt in public, and even anything suspicious was always out of surveillance view.” Clara ran a trembling hand through her hair as she rambled, her other arm hugging her chest, her agitation mounting again as she continued to pace. “But he did.” Missy smirked.

“Well the old Doctor is a smart man, we should know that by now. In fact I’m surprised it took him this long. Then again he is generally clueless over personal relationships and obvious signs of flirting so perhaps not. He and his eyebrows have always been more interested in science and machines.” Missy idly moved her gaze back to the book in her lap – Jane Austen again, why did her puppy always have this out and why didn’t Missy ever find one of the other many book’s the hero had instead of always gravitating to this stupid collection – though her focus was still on Clara as she spoke her next question as nonchalantly as possible. “So what did he say?” Clara scoffed, her other arm unfolding for her chest so she could gesture wildly.

“He had, the audacity, to tell me to stop seeing you.” Missy raised a brow, her gaze remaining falsely on the open book, while Clara barked an obviously fake laugh, voice dripping with sarcasm as she continued. “Oh no I’m sorry, he didn’t tell me to leave you. He, advised me to.” Her shaking hands clenched and unclenched into fists at her side. “How hypocritical is that!? I mean what about him and his relationship with River?”

Rage wasn’t the only thing radiating off Clara. From the corner of her eye as she continued to pretend to read the words on the page in her lap, she could see the waves of heat coming off Clara’s body as her anger rose – much like when looking off into the distance across the desert sand or down a long road on a hot day. Missy shifted slightly and exhaled softly. Adjusting her legs that were situated under her, she loosened herself from her curled position on the couch should she have to suddenly stand and intervene. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, but she needed to try and diffuse her puppy’s anger to prevent an embarrassing incident.

“Well it’s not exactly the same,” Missy pointed out with a half shrug, turning the page as Clara gritted her teeth while still pacing, “He’s not a hero and she’s not exactly a villain. More of an anti-hero if we’re honest. Vigilante.” Clara stopped finally stopped and faced the villain.

“I know but still!” Clara flung one arm out in indignant gesticulation, sparks flying out of her open palm. “He can’t tell me what to do. I’m not his student anymore! I can make my own life choices damnitt.” Missy chuckled and looked up at the hero.

“Even if it’s a pretty bad one.” Clara glowered at the other brunette.

“We’ve been over this Missy,” the hero growled low and threateningly, Missy unable to keep the amused and aroused smirk off her face at the sound. Her puppy was always so adorable when she tried to take charge, even on the battlefield. “Just because we have to fight on the outside doesn’t change how I feel about you. No matter how hard I try. Yes, I’m a hero and you’re a villain, something everyone reminds of at every turn. And frankly I don’t give a fuck.”

Missy stared wide eyed at the hero standing across from her. While Missy was often adept at hiding her emotions and keeping her classic, and horribly clichéd but oh so enjoyable to portray, ‘ice queen’ façade; Clara wore her emotions on her sleeve and on her face, the pure rawness of it all, much like a building after a blaze, always left Missy a little breathless. She’d laugh at the irony of their power sets matching their personalities if it hadn’t already been painfully pointed out in every news article and magazine editorial to cover their long standing public feud.

However, here and now Clara’s emotions were getting out of control. Missy could see thin tendrils of smoke rising off of the hero’s shoulders. Occasional embers were falling from her violently shaking hands, the villain positive she could hear the tell-tale crackle when the hero’s fingers moved. The thin cut that lay atop the bruise along her cheek bone, another injury Missy had given her that morning – unintentionally of course, their clashes were legendary in there destructiveness to both the environment and each other, Clara bearing the brunt most of the time however, though with very few civilian casualties at her puppy’s insistence – seemed to flicker, like looking into the cracks in molten lava. Most importantly of all, the eyes that always captivated Missy’s attention were practically glowing as if reflecting fire light but from the inside out. Missy knew the grey jumper Clara was wearing was her puppy’s favourite and if she let this outburst carry on and the hero spontaneously combusted… well those big eyes would be awful sad when all that would be left of it would be ash and charred strips of material. And Missy couldn’t have that.

With an exaggerated sigh and eye roll, Missy closed the book and dropped it onto the side table next to the couch, finally uncurling and standing tall, walking towards the hero with purpose. Clara frowned when Missy stood, talking a slight half step back as the villain came towards her, hands clenching into tight fists, the knuckles white, as if sensing what was coming and refusing to let go of her justified anger just yet. However her puppy let the inevitable happen as Missy reached the hero and wrapped her arms around Clara’s tense shoulders, trapping her upper arms in her strong grasp and pulling the other brunette’s head into her chest and resting her chin atop.

There was a loud hissing sound and a wave of steam rose off the pair. Clara sank into the tight hug with a shuddering breath, tension rolling off her small form with the steam, as she brought her arms up and around Missy’s waist, unclenching her fists before gripping handfuls of the villain’s purple blouse at the small of her back.

“I’m sorry the mean old owl made my puppy mad, but mummy’s here to make it all better,” Missy murmured against Clara’s hair before dropping a soft kiss to her hero’s head. Clara burrowed deeper into the villain’s chest as Missy lay her head against Clara’s and began to hum, rocking them both from side to side as one hand came up to stroke her puppy’s hair.

They stayed like that for a few minutes as Clara began to calm down, the indicative heat that had permeated her skin fading to its normal, though still higher than a normal human, level. Missy smiled into the hero’s hair as she felt the change.

“Better?” Clara nodded into her chest. Missy’s grin grew as she pulled away from the hero, gently moving her hands to Clara’s shoulders and pushing her upright, her puppy’s hands leaving Missy’s back to fall at her sides. The villain could see some tears staining her puppy’s cheeks so moved her hands to cup the join at her neck and wipe them away with her thumbs, careful of the wounded one. With that done she made sure Clara’s eyes locked with hers for a moment as she spoke again. “The Doctor just wants to look out for you poppet. You might not be his student but he still cares about you greatly, and I thank him for that. Even if he does still send you unnecessary trouble.” Clara huffed and shook her head.

“You’re the one usually causing that trouble.”

“I know but still. He only wants what’s best for you. But no matter what he says or suggests, I’ll always be here for you. If that’s what you want.”

Clara smiled and closed her eyes as she nodded within Missy’s grip. She blew out a long breath and looked back up at the villain with those large doe eyes shining, this time with only regular emotion.

“Thank you Missy.”

“Anytime. My Clara.”

After a pause Missy licked her lips and moved her hands from Clara’s face to trail down her arms, brushing lightly over the still intact grey material, before taking Clara’s hands in both of hers.

“Very well then Hot Head,” Missy said as she slowly walked backwards towards the couch, tugging Clara to follow, “What shall we do with our free evening?”

“You’re the one who snuck in here Ice Queen,“ Clara retorted with an eye roll, “I hadn’t planned on anything.”

“Well that’s good,” the villain happily as they reached the edge of the couch and stopped, letting go of Clara’s hands to place one on her waist and the other on her shoulder, flashing her trademark predatory grin. In an instant Missy snuck a leg around Clara’s and pulled, throwing the hero off balance before using her momentum to turn and drop the other brunette onto the couch.

The hero landed with a soft and surprised ‘oof’ before a second later it became a gasp as Missy settled into her own position of straddling the younger woman. Missy moved forward so her lips brushed Clara’s, the hero’s free hands finding their place on the villain’s hips.

“Because I have a few of my own,” Missy purred against Clara’s lips before not wasting another second and capturing them in a crushing kiss. Clara clung to Missy, trying to pull the villain closer despite their bodies already being flush. Missy grinned and nipped at Clara’s bottom lip, tasting the addictive smoky tang of the hero’s blood.

Missy pulled away all too soon however, leaving Clara to try and chase her, the move causing the villain to chuckle. Both were already breathless and the fun was only just beginning. Missy moved her hands so she could run one thumb along Clara’s bottom lip and the split in it while the other caressed her wounded cheek. Clara leant into Missy’s touch and whined a little when the villain moved her hands back to the hero’s shoulders.

“It seems Mistress has some making up to do after playing a little too rough with her puppy when trying to rob that bank this morning huh,” Missy said with a pout. She rolled her hips against Clara’s, the move causing the hero’s eyes to flutter shut and mouth to drop open silently. Missy grinned wide. “Wouldn’t you agree poppet?”

Clara’s eyes slowly opened again, pupils blown wide and what was left of the iris glowing faintly as a lazy smile graced her lips. Her puppy managed a brief nod before Missy buried a hand in the hero’s hair and surged forward again.

Cold met hot in a possessive clash of teeth and tongues, and as an affront to science ice would be the one to melt fire. Though fire would get their own back later. Ice would make sure of it.

 (Happy birthday @evilqueenofgallifrey! I hope you enjoy this and have/had an awesome birthday. Love ya bud.)

#Misffle #Missy x Clara #Misswald #Missfle #evilqueenofgallifrey #i managed to hold out to midnight my time but became impatient to wait until morning like usual haha #enjoy buddy. i really hope you like it. #Doctor Who #Wolfie Arts #Superhero AU #Misffle AU Sets #also going to be on AO3