#Reserve the ruthlessness to those that truly deserve it

[they-call-me-hippie]

Here's one easy trick to become a better conversationalist

Become more jaded

#I don't know what happened in the transition to November but after getting sick and then being tired from being sick #And then being even more tired from a conference #I feel like my words come out of my mouth with more ease than they ever have in my entire life #There's something of an unique experience to see human suffering in front of your eyes at such a large scale #Because you suddenly realize more than ever that what you say and what you do at work doesn't matter at a larger scale. It DOESN’T MATTER #How can I pretend our pretend problems carry any weight in the real world when we see a genocide unfold in front of our eyes #But deny to call it such #How am I supposed to keep my mouth shut and my sentences politically neutral with such injustice around the world #So what do I care about carefully weighing my words or being softer than I am or inadvertenty appearing more demure than I am #I just say exactly what comes to mind. I let the empty space around me become mine. I stop being worried about appearing 'opinionated' #My harshness and sarcasm and disapproval is the least that I deserve to express as a human being #But that doesn't mean I allow myself to become rude or disrespectful. I just allow myself to be who I am at a realer level #You turn that sharpness into productive energy. Ask more questions. Respond with more kindness. Give more money to those in need #Show vigour to those that deserve it #Reserve the ruthlessness to those that truly deserve it #— #My words get sharper and my mind gets more alert with every act of unfairness I'm forced to see in the world #I've come to realize I'm driven by anger. I don’t like that

[hannahmanderr]

Nuclear Fusion ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Fright Knight, Vlad, and Danny learn what it means to make a life-altering decision. Decisions that may change the tide of battle without them even knowing. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If there was anything granted to him through his servitude that the Fright Knight loathed, it was his command over the thrall armies.

The armies had existed as long as him, if not longer. Not all rulers he’d served had used them, but they were always available as a tool for whomever sat on the throne. Of course, ultimate authority over the thralls rested with the throne, but the Fright Knight too was an extension of the throne and its will. Thus, the authority over the armies came inherent with his existence.

The thralls were little more than mindless drones. Enemies of the throne damned to an existence of suffering in servitude. Only the king - or a direct agent of the king -  could inflict such a punishment. 

For centuries, the Fright Knight had no qualms over this. It was simply the way it worked. He held little sympathy for the souls condemned to service in the army. After all, if they were an enemy of the throne, they were an enemy of his. And the punishment was to be reserved only for the vilest of fiends. The ones truly deserving of such a fate.

Then came the reign of Pariah Dark.

The tyrant king was ruthless. As he ravaged realms, he too ravaged the lives of those in the realms. No one was immune to the Endless Death, as it had become to be known. Innocent and guilty alike, souls were reaped into the armies in droves.

Many of which the Fright Knight had been forced to reap himself.

And so as he walked through the halls of the Keep, as he passed by legion after legion of thralls amassing themselves into formation, he was forced to relive the sins that dirtied his hands. The sins that dirtied his existence. He was forced to look into the eyes of those he’d condemned, to gaze into the reflection of the perversion of his role.

Yes. He would forever loathe this command. This reminder of dark eras.

Still, he stood tall. Maintained his composure. Each skeletal figure saluted him as he strode by. 

But he didn’t look too closely.

All too soon, he stood at the large, looming doors to the throne room. They had not been touched since the last battle here. Half-blown off their hinges, threatening to fall at any moment. 

He took it as an invitation.

The sting in his core grew sharper and sharper with each step he took towards the dais. The air became hotter, buzzing with something harsh and volatile. For years now, he’d been known as the Spirit of Fear, and legends about him told of his inability to experience the plague that he wrought upon others.

As his eyes landed on the woken king, though, something he could only describe as the poisoned grip of fear coiled around his core.

Pariah Dark still looked exactly as he had that fateful day, when the Ancient Masters had come to end the king’s tyranny. The only evidence that time had passed at all was the wound to his eye, scarred over, disfiguring the king’s face even more than it already was.

That and the missing Crown of Fire. 

He tried not to linger on that thought.

The Fright Knight dropped to his knee at the foot of the dais. “My lord,” he mumbled. “You’re awake.”

Pariah’s ossified face always cracked ominously when he grinned, and it did so now. “You seem surprised. Do you honestly doubt my power?”

The Fright Knight’s eyes widened and his core skipped a beat. “No, no.” He kept his head bowed to hide the panic written across his faceless expression. “Never. I am your loyal servant. I could never doubt you. My existence is devoted to you and you alone. ”

The words felt as though they dirtied his mouth as they passed through his lips. 

A sharp tug pulled at his core. Not enough to be painful, but enough to make itself known. The one that had been whispering to him of hope and better things yet to come.

He did his best to ignore it.

Pariah’s lone eye glinted in the firelight as he studied the Fright Knight closely. “I should have you reaped by your own blade for your dishonesty,” he mused aloud.

The Fright Knight’s core lurched dangerously. “Dishonesty?”

What the king did next caught him off guard. The only warning was the dangerous glint in his single eye. Faster than he could register, Pariah roared and lunged for him. The Fright Knight could only grunt pathetically as he was pinned to the ground and stripped of his weapon in mere seconds.

Red fire exploded to life in the torches that still remained on the walls. The stinging heat grew to oppressive levels, and distantly, the Fright Knight wondered if he could be cooked to his End inside his metal armor.

That poisonous grip of fear twisted painfully around his core as the king leered down at him.

“You dare kneel at my feet when your core commits this treason?” he bellowed. Rubble rained down from the damaged ceiling. “You cannot fool me! I know there is another who demands your attention!”

The knight’s core seemed to leap into his throat. “M-my lord, I beg of you, I do not understand…”

“But you do!” Pariah swung the Soul Shredder up in a deadly arc, its green blade gleaming ominously in the red firelight. Before he could beg for mercy, the Fright Knight found himself staring down the tip of his sword, hovering right above his core.

He dared not move. Not with a ruthless creature positioned right above his life force.

“You feel him, don’t you?” Pariah whispered, leaning down close to the Fright Knight’s face. “He calls to you. He has taken a hold in your core and he refuses to let go. He wishes to take advantage of your loyalty, so that you may betray me…”

Never before had the knight felt threatened by his liege. Any of them. To the kings and queens he’d served, he was among their most valuable assets. Even before his first defeat, Lord Pariah had always respected his knight’s position. Replacement - or worse - had never been on the table between them.

Despite that respect, though, it didn’t change Pariah’s nature. The king had always been brutal and cruel, but he’d remained composed and calculative as he wrought his terror. He did not attack needlessly. Though he didn’t care to hold back his power, instead choosing to have it constantly on display, there was always a reason for his exercise of power, even if it was excessive.

The ghost above him, poised and ready to strike him down at the slightest of wrong moves, was not that same king. A wild recklessness had come over him; something rash, something savage glinted in his lone eye. Nothing at all like the cold calculation the Fright Knight had come to be used to during his reign. No, this was a fiery, heedless passion unlike anything the knight had ever seen before.

That alone caused his core to double its speed.

“Please, sire,” he managed to choke out, “who are you speaking of? My core cannot discern these things…”

The king’s face creaked again as it turned thunderous. “One who thinks he can take what is rightfully mine,” he spat. “A foolish child who has decided to lay claim to my throne.”

It took a great deal of willpower to maintain his composure upon hearing those words.

So. It was true.

Pariah straightened himself. “No matter. He is but a pathetic bug I will crush under my foot. He will never take what is mine.”

“But… my lord, Kilaris…”

The heat of the king’s wrath hit the Fright Knight like a brick wall. “I am the Heart’s master!” he roared. The tip of the Soul Shredder screeched as it dragged along the Fright Knight’s breastplate. “It bends to my will and mine alone! Those wretched Ancients thought they were so clever to hide it? Pah! They were fools!”

“I-I don’t understand…”

“But you will!” Pariah snarled. Angry red sparks sizzled around his grip on the sword. “You will! You, and anyone else who dares think the Heart belongs to anyone but me! You will see! I do not bow to Kilaris; it bends to me. I am the true master of Kilaris, and I will not be locked away again!”

With a roar of fury that shook the room and caused the Fright Knight’s ears to start ringing, Pariah threw the Soul Shredder to the side and lunged towards the Sarcophagus. Power, raw and unbridled, exploded into life around his hands - no, around the king’s entire form. The Ring of Rage grew impossibly bright, fueled by the emotion for which it was named.

If the heat of the king’s temper had been unbearable before, it was nothing short of suffocating now. Every fiber of the Fright Knight’s core screamed at him to flee, to escape the aura that filled the room, infecting everything in it.

Including himself.

And yet he found himself frozen in place, only able to prop himself up on his elbow to watch in abject horror as the king unleashed the full force of his power upon the prison that had kept him subdued for so long. 

The red energy paled and grew brighter, quickly growing to a blinding level. Like a star on the edge of burning itself to death, shining brilliantly in a last stunning display, the top of the dais exploded into nothing but light.

The Fright Knight threw up an arm and turned away before he could be blinded, but somehow, the light still managed to sear into his eyes. The king’s power was all-consuming. As if his was the only power that is, was, and ever would be.

And though whitenoise drowned his ears, from within the epicenter of the star, an anguished cry pierced the Fright Knight to his core.

Just as quickly as it had begun, it ended. The light and the energy receded, and the ringing in his ears faded. No longer frozen in shock, he scrambled upright and looked to the dais. Pariah stood there, huffing and puffing with red sparks still dancing between his fingers and in his mane of matted hair.

The Sarcophagus was nowhere in sight. As if it had vanished.

No, not vanished, the Fright Knight realized as he narrowed his eyes. As his gaze swept over the surrounding area, he could see tiny shrapnels of painted wood littering the room, radiating from where the Sarcophagus once stood.

A tainted chill raced down the Fright Knight’s spine. Not vanished indeed.

Obliterated.

The prison the Ancients had once believed to be indestructible had been razed to little more than dust and debris by the prisoner it sought to contain.

The king turned towards the Fright Knight, only enough so that the latter could see that same savage glint in his eye. “And so I will ask you again,” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet, “do you doubt my power?”

The unspoken threat, especially combined with the display before him, was not lost on the Fright Knight. He’d served under Pariah Dark long enough to understand the hidden implications of his words. Slowly, he sank back onto his knee.

“Never, my lord.”

The words sent a pang through his core.

“Good.” The king descended the stairs, and the Fright Knight couldn’t tell if the room was shuddering from the sheer force of his steps or from something else. “Then perhaps you can answer another question for me, dear knight. My Crown - where is it?”

The Fright Knight had to bow his head again to hide his widened eyes. The poisonous grip of fear once again wrapped itself around his core, squeezing it tightly. He knew the answer to the king’s query - or rather, he at least knew who had last taken it. He’d been there, after all.

He needed to answer. He had to. The sharp, painful tug in his core dictated so. The mad king and his threats dictated so.

And yet…

The other pull was still there. Fainter, trying desperately to poke through the powerful hot grip, but there.

It called to him, just as Pariah had surmised. It whispered to his core, beckoning him away from the tyrant’s orders. Those same promises of hope and peace wrapped around him, lessening the pain of Pariah’s pull.

The Fright Knight knew what he wanted. He knew which call he wished to follow. For thousands of years, until the reign of Pariah, he’d been allowed to exist peacefully. He’d been allowed to live out his loyal service without needing to concern himself about his fate or the fate of the Infinite Realms.

He longed to return to that.

The question was, would his core allow it?

Yes, it whispered. 

“I… I don’t know,” he said quietly. “The child deposed me before I could see where it had gone.”

He had to keep his head bent low and wrangle all of his self-control not to cry out in response to the wrenching, hot pain in his core the moment the words left his mouth. 

And yet a different part of his core felt brighter, lighter than it had in centuries.

Pariah studied him closely. Kneeling there, under the king’s gaze, sent the Fright Knight’s fighting instincts into a tizzy, but he forced himself to remain still and submissive.

He’d given in to the temptation once now. He didn’t know if he had it in him to do it again.

The king hummed. “The boy certainly doesn’t have it. I would be able to tell if he did. And yet I can’t feel its location…”

“Then what will you do, my lord?”

Pariah ran his thumb over the Ring of Rage. Even with his head bowed, the Fright Knight could see how it still radiated power. It too gave off an aura of instability, just like its owner. 

The realization nagged at the back of the knight’s mind, trying to warn him of something, but he forced it down. He could not afford to lose focus right now.

“We will march at once,” Pariah finally announced. “If I cannot detect the Crown, then neither can the child. With or without it, getting rid of him will be… child’s play.” He snorted at his own play on words. “Once he is out of the way, finding my Crown will be simple enough.”

The Fright Knight was careful not to let his shoulders sag with relief. That was a response he was far more used to hearing from Pariah. Even if that wild recklessness still permeated the hot, thick air, the familiarity was welcome. “Of course, sire.”

The king raised his mace to point over the knight’s head. “Take your command of the legions,” he ordered. “I will make way for them.”

“Make way to march where, Your Highness?”

Pariah’s single eye flared. “To the child’s pathetic human village. If he is too cowardly to face me again, then we shall draw him out. He will have no choice but to meet me if he wishes to protect his territory. It is there that I will reclaim what he has dared to try and take from me.”

“And… once you have… reclaimed the throne?”

“Oh, dear knight,” the king crooned, bending down to hover over the Fright Knight. “Isn’t it obvious? We will put an end to this. To those who dare think they can have power over me. I will show them the true master of Kilaris.”

The order sent the two pulls in the Fright Knight’s core into conflict with each other, but he swallowed it down. “It will be done, my lord.”

Hastily, he rose from his kneeled position, retrieved the Soul Shredder from where it had been thrown, and retreated from the throne room. Nightmare was waiting for him outside. The thralls would follow him with little more than a simple instruction. With the portal Pariah would create, they would descend on the human city in less than an hour’s time.

He sighed. No doubt the child would rise to meet the king’s challenge again.

Though he knew what the inevitable outcome would be, deep in his core, as the entire Keep gave an undeniable shudder, he silently prayed for the boy King. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Crown of Fire had once been the extremely literal crown jewel of Vlad’s collection. Of all the ghostly artifacts he’d hunted down and gathered over the past twenty-some years, the Crown was easily the most legendary of them all. He couldn’t help but puff his chest with the accomplishment.

Granted, it had been the Ring of Rage he’d truly managed to track down. The Crown… 

Well, surely it was an accomplishment of its own to swipe it from underneath the noses of a few dozen ghosts, including the servant to the throne and the Crown.

Unfortunately for him, the legends had proven true; the Crown was virtually powerless without its other half. Even more frustrating was the fact that when he held it, he could feel the power within, yearning to break free and be used. Victory was, quite literally, within his grasp, yet it still eluded him.

And so Vlad had resolved to eventually figure out a way to break the Ring free from the Sarcophagus, preferably without waking the tyrant king this time around. It was for the better, anyway. There were a number of other plans he wanted to see to fruition before he attempted again. Plans like finally obtaining the son he’d always wanted.

It would be lovely, after all, if he could get Daniel to do the hard work for him again. It would be even lovelier if he did it of his own free will.

Thus, the Crown had sat tucked away in his safe in Colorado for well over a year now. Somewhere where no human could stumble across it and no ghost would dare look, lest they incur his wrath. Oh, he never forgot about it, of course. Once a month or so, he’d give into the temptation and take it out, just to hold it. Feel that power thrumming in the metal. Dream about what that power would finally do for him. How it was made for him. How he’d finally reach his destiny once he had it.

In the blink of an eye and a tiny spill though, all those dreams shattered.

The Crown of Fire was not on fire anymore. Quite the opposite, really. Vlad had tried to pick it up a number of times only to be met with a piercing cold, like dry ice. Getting it out of the safe and onto a towel that he could carry without being frostbitten had taken some tricky telekinetic maneuvering. Even through the thick fabric of the towel, the Crown’s new temperature threatened to freeze his hands.

It wasn’t the change in appearance and temperature that formed a pit in Vlad’s stomach, though. It was the fact that he could not feel that power thrumming any longer. Not through the towel at least. Surely it still had to be there, contained in the metal, but without a way to touch it himself, he had no way of verifying that the power remained.

The thought of losing that power was utterly terrifying.

And there was the matter of Daniel’s ectoplasm, too. It could not be salvaged; the tiny amount that the Crown did not evaporate would be negligible for any of his intended uses, not to mention tainted through exposure. 

Two of his most valuable assets. Rendered useless to him. Through such a tiny mistake at that.

Vlad wanted to scream. Or fly out into the mountain forest and take his rage out on the trees. Or march right up to Daniel and demand another sample and, more importantly, an explanation.

Vlad wasn’t a moron. Unlike Jack, he could see the pieces in front of him and put two and two together. The Crown hadn’t changed on its own, after all.

Daniel’s ectoplasm had triggered it. 

And that just opened up a whole slew of problems, didn’t it?

As Vlad sat at his desk, glaring at his once crown jewel, now nothing more than a frozen paperweight, the realization slowly came to him. In bits and pieces at first, then in a trickle, then in a sickening flood that, for once in his life, left him stunned, unable to figure out a plan to move forward.

The boy’s ectoplasm wasn’t the problem. The problem was Daniel himself. Even more than causing this new slew of problems, Daniel was the source of every problem and setback Vlad had experienced over the past two years.

It all made sense. Too much sense. The boy was at the root of everything. Daniel had ruined his plan at the reunion. Daniel had turned Danielle against him and destroyed the perfect clone he’d fought so hard for. Daniel had managed to make him look like a cowardly fool while he himself won impossible battle after impossible battle. Every plan Vlad created, Danny Phantom would inevitably find a way to ruin.

And it was Daniel awakening these foreign, unnerving feelings within him. The caring. The concern. The fondness.

It made his core burn.

The answer was simple of course. Get rid of the boy, and all those problems would go away. Vlad would be free to finally do away with Jack, win Maddie, and take control of the power that he rightfully deserved. No one would dare stand against him, and those that tried could be squashed as easily as an ant.

And getting rid of Daniel wouldn’t be difficult either. It was true that his power was developing at far higher rates than Vlad’s had (if his projections were right, it was very possible that the boy’s raw power already matched his own, and that was its own difficult pill to swallow), but both of them knew very well that he held himself back. Even in his most difficult battles, Daniel never unleashed his full potential. Maybe he’d come close, but the boy’s fears and morals would always hinder him.

Vlad had no such qualms. He would not hesitate to unleash his full potential. Danny would not be able to meet him.

It was tantalizing, the thought of finally ridding himself of this teenaged thorn in his side. Something deep in his core, a carnal urge, itched to return to Amity Park right now and end things. 

It would be so simple. So easy…

Yet every time Vlad stood, ready to follow through on these intentions, the image of that little vial of ectoplasm burned through his mind. The image of the boy huddled helplessly on the floor of his parent’s lab. The image of the spark of fear in his eyes at the threat of a force like the GIW.

The haunting echoes of that question that had shaken Vlad’s world.

“You actually want to help me?”

Even more haunting, the answer that had been right on the tip of his tongue. The answer he’d almost spoken aloud in a moment of weakness.

Those memories, those foreign feelings he despised so much, froze him as thoroughly as the Crown. 

Vlad Masters was not an indecisive man. Every move he made was precise, thought-out, and, most importantly, resolute. Very rarely did he find himself regretting his decisions; he had developed a knack for analyzing his options and carefully selecting the best choice. Life was his chessboard, and he was the chessmaster.

And yet for the first time in more than twenty years, he was struck with the realization of just how exhausting playing the chessmaster could be.

The accident had forced him into that role. Pushed into such a precarious position, with his life on the line if he made even the slightest mistake, he’d been forced to learn quickly. Learn how to manipulate the doctors into finally releasing him from the hospital, learn how to slip himself seamlessly into the world of business, learn how to use his humanity to his advantage when establishing his ghostly name. Chess wasn’t solely about choices, after all, it was about strategy.

But constant strategy, constantly having to calculate his own moves as well as any possible moves of the other players, constantly having to be on guard for anything that could trip him up… It was tiring. Far more tiring than he cared to admit. 

And maybe, just maybe, that exhaustion was beginning to creep up on him. Maybe it was why he couldn’t force himself to make a decision about what to do with Daniel.

Maybe it was why he didn’t want to make that decision.

There was something painfully ironic about it all. Spending all this time building himself and his mastery only to be knocked down into despondency by a clueless child.

Ridding himself of Daniel was the only way. It had to be. Once he was able to see his plans and dreams through, he’d be able to rest finally. He’d be able to be happy. He just needed to get rid of this one last obstacle in the way of his happiness.

But would it be enough? Would he be able to live peacefully without the crown jewel of his plans, this boy who would finally make the pain and suffering worth it?

Vlad’s fingers curled into a fist. No. That dream was long gone. Even if he couldn’t finish off the child, he knew that Daniel was just as strong-willed as his father and just as stubborn as his mother. Once the boy set his mind to something, very few things would deter him from it. And he had decided long ago that he would never let himself be won over by Vlad.

If Vlad couldn’t have Daniel… 

Then it only left one choice.

He stood up, nearly knocking his chair over. Dark rings swept over him, leaving Plasmius in their wake. He phased through the floor, through the ground level, and straight into his underground lab. His flight didn’t let up until he floated in front of his safe.

His face remained stony as he went through the lengthy process of verifying his identity for it to open up. Retina scan, ectoplasm sample, blood sample… Throughout it all, barely a thought crossed his mind. Only a staticky whitenoise echoed in his head, numbing him to nearly everything else.

(Maybe, deep down, some part of him knew if he tried to think, tried to clear his head and evaluate things, he’d suffer a far worse pain than losing his crown jewel.)

He wrenched the door open, almost tearing it off its hinges thanks to his ghostly strength. He didn’t reach for the sword, nor the manilla folder with his emergency documents. His hand skipped right over the Skeleton Key. Every weapon and every tool in the safe was ignored in favor of a little square of film, its papery edges beginning to yellow from age.

The smiling face of his twenty-year-old self blurred as he ran a thumb over the faces of Jack and Maddie, beaming as widely as him. The proto-portal sat on the lab table behind them, inactive, waiting to spark to life.

Waiting to take its victim.

The memory of that day haunted Vlad for more than twenty years. In the months after the accident, he’d wake up in the hospital, drenched in a cold sweat, blinding green light and screams of pain stubbornly refusing to get out of his head. It had taken five years to cut down the number of times he was forced to relive the nightmare, and a full ten years to keep it from his sleep entirely. Even still, more than two decades later, he could not keep it from his mind.

And worse than the pain, worse than the terror and the fear, was the memory of just how thrilled he’d been that day. 

Yes, by that point in their undergrad, he’d started to become increasingly jealous of just how close Jack and Maddie were, but even that couldn’t put a damper on the excitement of their accomplishment. It was going to be groundbreaking, and he’d been just as proud of their work as Jack and Maddie had been. Just as ready to show it off.

They had done that. Together. The three of them.

It had been the last time he remembered being happy. Being truly happy. Being free of the anguish and bitterness that had plagued him for so long now.

Something dripped and splattered onto the young Vlad’s smiling face.

Though his ghost form didn’t require him to breathe, he inhaled anyway. Those days, the days he’d spent with Jack and Maddie, working and goofing off and just enjoying their company, they were long gone. Nothing more than painful nostalgia.

A painful reminder of what once had been.

A painful reminder of what he could’ve had.

And as he exhaled, pink flames erupted in his hands. The paper edges of the Polaroid caught fire easily, and in just a matter of moments, those three smiling faces were reduced to nothing more than ash in his palm.

Unceremoniously, his hand dropped to his side, spilling the ashes on the floor. 

There would be no going back. Not anymore. 

Not after he did what he knew he had to do. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ A doorbell rang.

Danny blinked. Whatever stir of power had been churning within him fizzled out. Thoughts about kings and hearts and cosmic powers left in one fell swoop. His brain, apparently overworked and exhausted from the whiplash of the day, seemed to decide it only had the energy to focus on this new distraction. So really, the next question out of his mouth shouldn’t have been such a surprise.

“Did someone order pizza?”

Sam stared at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m crazy stressed right now, in case you haven’t noticed. Let me be a little stupid.”

The doorbell rang again, more insistently. Kala rubbed at his temples. “What is that infernal noise?” he growled.

“Oh!” Babel slammed down his container of yogurt. “I forgot I installed that thing! You’d think the Sumerians would learn to respect a ghost’s haunt after a few thousand years, but noooo, apparently you gotta put something there to keep them from waltzin’ on in. I don’t care what Enkidu did this time, if you walk in on me and my bath again, you can kiss my -”

“Enough!” Kala barked as the doorbell rang a third time. Danny was fairly certain that if the guy had had veins, several would’ve popped by now. “Just… answer it.”

Babel gave him a mock salute before zipping to the door that looked like a manhole. Danny’s brow furrowed when, instead of heaving it out of the way, Babel stuck their head in through the side, and the door rippled like a curtain. 

He was really beginning to understand why Babel was the Ancient Master of Chaos.

Before Babel could say anything or open the door (curtain?) fully, a gray blur rocketed into the chamber. Tucker barely had time to dive out of the way as it careened past him and straight into the wall, crumpling in a heap on the floor.

Danny figured his brain was still short-circuiting or something, because the gray blur-turned-parital-pancake was one of the last people he’d ever expect to see in the Ancients’ Chamber. “Poindexter?”

Sydney winced as he began untangling his limbs from one another. “Oo, that - that smarts,” he muttered.

A clap of thunder resounded against the stone walls, causing Danny and his friends to flinch. “What is the meaning of this?” Kala bellowed. “Has the sanctity of this chamber ceased to exist?”

“I-I apologize, Master Kala,” Sydney said. He managed to pick himself off the ground and zip to float before the table, in front of Danny. “Believe me, normally I wouldn’t, but this - it’s an emergency! This is bad, this is really bad…”

“Easy, young one,” Frostbite soothed, though Danny found himself wondering if it was really all that soothing coming from an eight-foot-tall yeti monster ghost. “What is the emergency?”

Kala opened his mouth, presumably to try and yell Sydney out of the room, or whatever he did to get rid of unwanted guests, but Pandora held out two of her hands. “At least hear him out,” she said, gentle yet firm. “He would not have sought us out if it wasn’t important.”

“Exactly!” Sydney began wringing his hands. “I thought it wasn’t real at first, I-I thought I was just imagining it, but I knew it couldn’t be my imagination, I heard it! And I saw it too! And - and my shade! It changed! I didn’t even know it could do that, it never changes -”

“Your shade changed?” Zunje interrupted. “That’s… impossible. Shades and echoes are just that; they’re not capable of changing.”

“I know what I saw! It - I was in trig class! And then everyone just vanished, and when I looked outside -” If possible, Sydney’s face grew an even paler gray.

Danny’s blood ran cold.

( - a big, gaping rip of pure darkness emerging against the already-dark horizon of the Ghost Zone - )

“You saw it,” he finished, his fingers feeling numb. It wasn’t a question. The memory wasn’t his, but it was still burned into his mind anyway. 

Sydney turned, as if he hadn’t realized Danny had been there the whole time. “Phantom!” Before Danny could stop him, Sydney had darted to him and latched onto his arms. The sharp, tangy taste of the ghost’s terror filled Danny’s mouth. “Oh, sweet jeepers, you’re here! You have to stop it! Him! Y-you -”

“What is it?” Kala asked, frustration still tinging his voice. 

“I still wanna know what you meant when you said ‘he’s’ looking for the Crown,” Tucker added weakly.

Pandora’s eyes widened. “Do you mean…?”

But Danny didn’t process any of their words. A ringing filled his ears as Sydney continued to babble at him. “Wait, I’m not - stop him? I…”

The memories of being in the Keep welled up in the back of his head, threatening to assault him again. Swallowing thickly, he forced them back into that compartment he’d created for them long ago, the one Jazz scolded him for utilizing more often than he should. 

The fear from those memories still boiled stubbornly in his gut.

It is nothing you haven’t done before.

That had been different. He’d been so much more naive back then, holding on to the foolish hope that he’d win the day and return home safe and sound and the experience would eventually fade into the collective memory of the hundreds of fights he’d had before. He’d had the extra power offered to him by the Ecto-Skeleton, and he’d had the back-up of a good chunk of his rogues gallery. 

He’d had the godsend of whoever had come and turned that key and saved his life.

He was shaking his head before he even realized it. “I can’t,” he whispered. “I’m not…”

Do not let your fear win, little Prince. You are stronger than that. You are stronger than him.

He really wished he could believe that.

Sydney’s eyes widened. “No, you have to! Or - or he’s gonna rip apart the Zone! I saw it!”

“Who are you talking about?” Kala demanded.

Sydney spun around, looking at the Ancients like they had all grown three heads. “Isn’t it obvious?” he shouted, his voice continuing to raise in pitch. “It’s him! The king! King Pariah!”

A stunned silence filled the room, but only briefly. “Stars above,” Zunje whispered. “That’s what you meant when you said he’s looking for the Crown.”

“He’s out?” Kala’s voice had grown much, much quieter. The shock written across his face didn’t help Danny’s nerves in the slightest.

Pandora’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. How is that possible?”

For a sickening moment, the thought that someone had intentionally released Pariah flitted across Danny’s mind. 

You know better. The answers have been given to you.

“He broke out,” he said quietly as the realization came to him. “It’s - he took advantage of the Heart trying to break free. It must have broken the Sarcophagus, whatever the Heart was trying to do.”

“Because it got separated!” Sam snapped her fingers. “That’s what you were trying to say! When you took the Crown from him when you fought him and put him back into the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep with the Ring, it separated the Heart.”

“And that’s why it’s been ripping the worlds apart!” Zunje added. Strangely, she seemed to be vibrating from excitement. “It’s trying to put itself back together! It all fits in with one another!”

“Awesome,” Danny muttered. “So all this really is my fault.” Only Sydney was close enough to hear him. He shot Danny a confused look, but didn’t press the matter.

Nonsense. You did what you had to do. You made the best choice.

“But when we separated the Ring and Crown before, it didn’t result in… this.” Pandora gestured vaguely with one of her hands. “Why now then?”

“Oh!” Babel flung a forkful of yogurt behind him as they jolted in realization. “We kept them close before! The Ring was like, right next to that thing. We was real careful to keep it that way. So if King Grumpy has the Ring -”

“Then the Crown must have been removed from the throne room after Phantom’s battle,” Kala finished.

For the umpteenth time that day, every eye in the room turned on Danny. He wanted to rip his hair out.

If he really was supposed to be king, then his first rule was going to be that people couldn’t keep staring at him like this.

Too late, he realized the unspoken question they were asking with their eyes. “I… don’t know where it is,” he said, shaking his head helplessly. “I was barely conscious enough to realize someone had turned the key. I didn’t wake up until I was back home.”

Another beat of silence filled the room. “Well, that’s… sort of good, right?” Tucker asked slowly. “‘Cause even if we don’t know where it is, he doesn’t know where it is either. And we don’t want him to get it, yeah?”

“Yes, but according to the Great One, he is looking for it.” Frostbite put a paw to his chin and studied Danny. “How do you know he is searching for it?”

Danny hesitated. Again, the truth was there on the tip of his tongue, but something kept him from telling it to everyone. The hot sting in his core had ebbed away some throughout the conversation, probably thanks to some combination of his new cloak and distraction, but now that it had come up again, albeit indirectly, he could feel it gripping his core again, threatening to send him into delirium again. 

The idea of revealing that Pariah was in his core to such a degree sent a twist of nausea through his stomach. He wouldn’t put it past Kala to assume Pariah was trying to take control of him or something. 

And there was also the fact that acknowledging the connection out loud meant acknowledging… everything. Namely the whole king thing. That was something he really didn’t want to get into. At all.

“I mean… I just kind of figured,” he finally said, averting his gaze. “If he doesn’t have it, he’s gonna want to find it, you know?”

“We cannot allow that to happen.” Kala stood, the shroud of clouds around him growing larger and showier. “He must not be allowed to have full access to Kilaris again.”

“Sooo…” Babel drawled, “how do we keep him from getting the Crown without keeping Kilaris separated and making the worlds go all kablooey? I mean, I’d be down to see that happen, but maybe with silly string and not, you know. Destruction.”

Danny looked up and inadvertently met Kala’s eyes. He wanted to look away immediately, but there was something in the Ancient’s eyes that kept him there. There was a certain kind of resignation in them, one that permeated the air and sat on Danny’s tongue, heavy and bittersweet. He could practically see the gears in Kala’s head turning, coming to the same conclusion he was quickly coming to, much to his distress.

You cannot run from who you are meant to be, little Prince.

The Heart’s words stole Danny’s breath away. Perhaps it had intended for them to be comforting, but they were anything but that. They were an omen, a harbinger of pain and sorrow.

I don’t want this, he thought helplessly. Please, just… choose someone else.

It is not that simple. You were born for this, little Prince. This is your destiny.

Definitely not the answer he wanted to hear.

Still, Danny ignored the Heart. If it wasn’t going to cooperate, then he could deal with that later. Much later, preferably. Instead, he stared hard into Kala’s eyes, wondering if he could spontaneously develop telepathy solely to beg Kala to keep to his opinion, the one they had found mutual agreement in. The one that - rightfully - decided that Danny could not, should not be named king.

Kala closed his eyes. “To keep him from accessing Kilaris any longer, someone else must control that access.” When he opened them again, he kept Danny’s line of sight. Much to Danny’s dismay, there was a silent apology buried within the stormy clouds. “If… if Kilaris is reaching out to another, then that bond must be realized. And it would seem that we have been fortunate enough to find Kilaris’ new chosen.”

No hit that Danny had ever taken felt like the one delivered by Kala’s words. 

Pandora cast a smile laced with smugness at Kala before turning her attention back to Danny. “I for one cannot think of a better candidate for the Heart.”

“Wow,” Tucker breathed. “So. The king thing really is happening, huh?”

“King thing?” Sydney looked back and forth between Danny and Tucker, then his mouth dropped open, and he pointed at Danny. “Wait, you’re -”

“The Crown must be found first,” Pele grunted. Danny had almost forgotten she was there, she had been silently observing for so long. “There is no bond without the full Heart.”

“So we find it first,” Zunje said with a shrug. “Easy peasy.”

“And then what? Pariah’s still got a hold on the Ring,” Babel pointed out.

“It will have to be taken from him.” Kala’s voice echoed with gravity. His eyes met Danny’s yet again. “He will never surrender it willingly. He will have to be fought.”

The ringing returned in Danny’s ears. The memory of his life being drained before his eyes filled his head. The hot grip around his core sparked to life again. 

“Wait, wait, timeout.” Sam stepped forward. “Why does it have to be Danny? Why can’t you guys fight him? Like what are you gonna do if Pariah ends up…” Sour fear zipped across Danny’s taste buds.

In spite of the terror brought on by the memories and Pariah in his core, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. She gripped him with only a force Sam Manson could muster.

Zunje laughed, much to Danny’s surprise and irritation. “Well he’s not gonna be alone!” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “We’ll help of course. But we can only do so much. You have to be the one to seize the power.” She threw a pointed look at Danny. “You’ve already got a bit of a connection to Kilaris going it sounds like, so it should take right away. Even if one of us managed to get it away from him, there’s every chance he could take it back. As long as you don’t have full control, he’s still got that window. So… yeah, it kind of needs to be you.”

“Which is why the Crown must be found first,” Kala said. “You will need it with you so you can promptly assert your throne and depose Pariah.”

A chill ran down Danny’s spine hearing the phrase “your throne.” Not the pleasant kind of chill, either.

Do not worry, little Prince. You will make a fine King. You were made for this.

That wasn’t what was putting him off, though the Heart’s insistence that this was his destiny, as if it had been decided the moment he was born, did little to make him feel better. If anything, it made him feel worse.

Then do not think of it as a rulership. Think of it as fulfilling the mission you chose for yourself. Think of it as fulfilling the role you’ve always sought to serve.

That made Danny stop. Another memory from the time of Pariah’s siege of Amity Park resurfaced, this one before the battle had even begun. 

(“Dude, you can’t blame yourself for this. It’s not your fault.”)

(“Maybe not. But it is my responsibility.”)

His eyes fell to Sydney, who was staring up at him with the kind of admiration a kid would have for their idol. He could still remember the tangy taste of the ghost’s fear, of his alarm at witnessing his world being threatened and unwillingly altered. 

Sydney had come to find the Ancients and warn them, but he’d found Danny too, and he’d begged Danny for help. Even with six of the most powerful ghosts in existence in the room, he’d focused in on Danny.

Because that’s what Danny did. That’s what he’d figured out about what his powers could be used for, way back when he first fought the Lunch Lady.

Danny helped. Simple as that.

Sydney needed help right now. The Ancients needed help right now. His friends and family needed help right now. Two worlds, his worlds needed help right now.

The Heart needed help right now.

Do what you have to do.

Danny exhaled shakily. “Okay.” He nodded. “Okay.” He straightened his back and shoulders. “Alright.”

Sam still held his hand. She and Tucker both looked at him, much like they had more than a year ago as he’d prepared to go fight an impossible battle. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Sam whispered.

“We can find another way,” Tucker added.

Danny smiled sadly. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.” He took a deep breath. “This is what I have to do.”

Sam and Tucker glanced at each other. Danny nearly jumped out of his boots when Tucker slapped a hand onto his shoulder.

“This is what we have to do,” he said, squeezing Danny’s shoulder. “You’re nuts if you think we’re gonna let you do this alone again.”

In spite of himself, Danny’s heart swelled, and for one blissful moment, the hot grip on his core disappeared.

Kala cleared his throat, startling the three friends. “If you are done having your… moment,” he said, as if he couldn’t comprehend what had just transpired between them, “we must choose a plan of action.”

“I thought we already had a plan.” Babel tucked their fork behind their ear. “Find the Crown, bop King Grumpy, and bada bing, bada boom, we gots ourselves a new king.”

“I don’t know where it is, though,” Danny said again. “It could be anywhere.”

Zunje hummed. “True, but you might be able to use the connection you already have with the Heart to find it. It’s like we said, Kilaris wants to be whole again, and you’re kind of a big part of that now. It’s gonna be naturally attracted to you, or it’s gonna attract you to it. If you concentrate hard enough, you should be able to follow that pull, so to speak.” She rolled her tongue in her mouth. “Theoretically, anyway. This is kind of a unique situation, but hey! You’re a pretty unique champion so there’s that!”

“That… doesn’t really inspire much confidence.”

“It’s worth a try,” Pandora said. “It’s our only lead at the moment. Unless if you can remember anything about where it could’ve gone, or who could’ve possibly taken it.”

Danny opened his mouth to reiterate that no, he’d been a little too busy dying to notice anything, but he was interrupted by a sudden twist in his core. The hot grip yanked on it, wrenched it out of sync with his heart. His hand flew up to his sternum, and the inside of his cloak began to light up again as his core instinctively began to try and generate more cold to ward off the intrusion. 

( - legion of skeleton soldiers marching relentlessly through the Badlands - )

( - being ripped open and pouring through and - )

( - glint of a glowing green sword - )

( - girl with flaming red hair jumping in front of a man, wielding a gun whining to life - )

He gasped and doubled over as the foreign images assaulted him yet again. Sam and Tucker were instantly on him, shouting his name and asking what was happening. He wanted to answer, but the grip had such a strong hold on him, he felt as if his vocal cords were on fire.

And then, striking fear through his Heart…

I am a man of my word, little Prince, the tyrant king’s voice sneered mockingly. If you wish to take what is rightfully mine, then I will take what is yours and raze it to the ground. 

“No…” he managed to choke out. “Not…”

Pariah laughed in his core. Pathetic child. Hiding away like a coward, leaving his little village vulnerable and helpless… 

( - forking through the sky, a deep blackness peering from beyond the jagged tears - )

Danny heaved a broken, soundless cry. He reached deep within himself, trying to prod his core back into place, desperately calling upon the fond images that had given him peace just a short bit ago. This time, however, those images were marred by the nagging anxiety in the back of his mind, showing him his town in fear and chaos.

That is what will become of your precious humans if you do not face me, the king told him. The choice is yours, little Prince. Stand and meet your pitiful end like the brave little boy you claim to be, or watch me lay waste to everything and everyone you hold dear. Either way, I will reign victorious.

No. No, he couldn’t let that happen. Not to Amity. Not to the Realms. He couldn’t. 

He wouldn’t let that happen. Not on his watch.

Deep in his core, underneath the scalding sting of Pariah, something bubbled to life. It was small, weak, like the sun trying to break through the clouds on a gray day. But it was there.

And there was something invigorating about it. Far from the crippling hot grip trying to master his core. It pulsed, slowly and faintly, but it fit right next to his heart like a perfect match, and it began to radiate out. His head spun with wooziness, but it wasn’t disorienting like it had been before. This was different.

Something caught his eye. Though his head felt like dead weight and his vision had an alarming blur to it, he managed to lift his head. His eyes were drawn not to his friends, not to the Ancients, but to the torches spaced out along the walls of the chamber. Their strange, multicolored flames flickered and danced in a hypnotic pattern.

His brow furrowed as, to his wonder, they began to grow. It wasn’t anything flashy or big, just a little height, a little more volume. The different colors, the same six colors lighting up each of the Ancient’s seats, twisted and curled into one another. Danny wondered if his vision was getting even more blurry.

That was until the flames in the torch he was focused in on spun around each other and the colors bled into a brilliant white light. The colors were still there, on the outer edges, forming something of a halo around the white light and giving it a pearlescent, holographic effect. 

With a start, he realized he’d seen this exact light before. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it had only been earlier that morning. The first time he felt the pull on his core. He’d seen it then. It had been distant and muted, not like the light now, but it was undeniably the same light.

The feeling in his core, the frail yet invigorating pulse of energy reached for the light.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was vaguely aware of Pariah’s energy lashing out within him, roaring in harmony with the king’s voice, trying to stop this new force.

He cannot take this from you, little Prince. This is yours. Do you see that now?

Danny reached for the light.

“Danny?”

Sam’s voice was muddy, but it was enough to make him blink in surprise. When his vision refocused, the torches looked the same as they had since he’d first stepped into the chamber, the multicolor flames still dancing their dance. Both the pulse of energy and Pariah’s stinging hold receded, back into the background. Distantly, he could still feel them pushing against each other.

He pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead. All these cosmic forces or whatever they were, why did they have to use his core like a playground? It was growing old very quickly.

“Here. Allow me.” Kalliope, who had not spoken a word since promising to help Danny, knelt in front of him. She laid a hand on his shoulder, and her calming aura immediately began seeping into him. 

Still somewhat dazed, he looked at his two friends in turn. “Did you see that?”

Tucker frowned. “What? Was it another one of those earthquake thingies?”

“No, I -” Danny stopped himself. How did he even explain what he saw? He hadn’t been able to explain it earlier that morning; he didn’t exactly have the words now either. 

And would they even believe him? Sam and Tucker probably would, eventually, but the ghosts in the room? Arguably, they should have been the ones more likely to believe him, but something in his gut told him they’d have a difficult time buying into it. Especially if the weird look Kala was giving him was anything to go by.

Slowly, he shook his head. “Never mind. I - It was just… my imagination. Or something.”

“But something happened.” Sam’s stubborn concern left a diluted, citrusy taste in his mouth. “Was it the Heart again?”

Whatever comfort Danny might have found in the strange light crashed back into distress. As much as it made him sick to admit, he’d somehow momentarily forgotten about what had triggered such a reaction in the first place.

He glanced up to the table of Ancients. Kala still regarded him with a strange look. Babel had taken to stuffing handfuls of yogurt in their mouth like popcorn. Pandora and Frostbite looked like they were afraid he’d keel over again. Concern sparkled in Zunje’s eyes too, but there was an undeniable intrigue there too. Pele even seemed to show the slightest hint of surprise.

Why did they have to stare at him like that?

“It’s… it was Pariah,” he finally muttered. “He’s moving. Fast.”

“Where to?” Kala asked, right as Pandora said, “How do you know?”

The king’s threats echoed in Danny’s head, and he swallowed thickly. “He’s going to Amity Park. He’s - he’s trying to…”

Sam and Tucker’s eyes widened in horror. “Wait, like right now?” Tucker squeaked. “We gotta get back there!”

“A strange choice,” Pele mused, folding her hands under her chin. “Why attack a human city first?”

A lump formed in Danny’s throat. “Because it’s my city. He’s trying to get to me.”

There was a beat of silence before Sam stood up, pulling Danny with her. “Well what are we doing sitting around here then? We have to go stop him!”

“Whoa, whoa, wait.” Zunje set her tablet on the table. “What about the Crown? We still gotta get that if we’re gonna want any shot at taking him down!”

“That’s fine! You guys go get it then!” The panic of knowing his city, his people were in danger was beginning to set in Danny’s stomach. “It’ll be fine, I’ll go hold him off until you get it.”

His friends immediately squawked in protest, and Zunje shook her head. “None of us can find it alone,” she said, and Danny could hear some of the desperation in her own voice. “You’re the only one who has a chance of finding it right now. It’s like I said, you’re the one who already has that connection.”

“I don’t have time to go flying all over the Realms trying to find a stupid crown! People’s lives are kind of at stake here!”

“Then we will go protect them,” Pandora said, standing. “They are just as much your people as anyone in the Realms. If they are yours, then we are in service of them as well.”

Well, he wasn’t a huge fan of what she was implying there… Neither was Kala, if his puckered expression was anything to go by.

Still, the Ancient stood as well. The clouds in his cloak had turned dark and heavy, like they were threatening to start pouring rain at any moment. The grip on his staff was tight and tense. “If we go defend this city of yours,” he began, arching an eyebrow, “then you must go find the Crown. Quickly.”

Danny hesitated. It made sense, he knew that logically, but the protective, heroic instincts he’d unwillingly built over the last two years were screaming to ignore everything with the Crown and go straight to Amity Park. Trying to rein in those instincts felt next to impossible.

Tucker’s brow furrowed in sympathy. “We can go with you, dude. You don’t have to do it alone.”

“Or,” Sam chimed in, not missing a beat, “we can go to Amity Park too. Make sure everyone is safe for you.”

While he hated the idea of the two of them putting themselves in the line of fire, he couldn’t deny how much he trusted them. These two had been by his side since he’d stepped out of that portal. Despite the arguments and the sleepless nights and the persistent danger, they too were just as determined as him to keep their city safe.

If he couldn’t be there himself, then he could only think of two people he trusted to go in his stead. 

Danny took a deep breath and, before they could say anything else, wrapped his arms around Sam and Tucker, burying his face in their shoulders as they returned the hug. “I love you guys.”

“We love you too, you big dork.” He pretended to not hear the watery waver in Sam’s voice.

To be fair, his own eyes were pretty misty as well.

When he pulled away, his core and heart swelled with affection for them once more. Somehow, he knew they already knew what he wanted them to do, and the fact that they were fearlessly willing to do that - do that for him - just made him want to cry even more. In a good way, of course. A manly sort of cry. Obviously.

“Just… make sure everyone is safe,” he finally muttered, his voice hitching.

“Of course we will.”

“We need to move quickly.” Danny’s head snapped up as Kala spoke. “If he is moving as fast as you claim, then there is no time to waste.”

“Right. Yeah.” He wiped his nose. “Find an uber-powerful piece of jewelry. How hard can it be?”

“I’ll come with you.” Zunje was already stuffing her tablet into a shoulder bag. “Maybe I can help you track its energies. That’s kind of my thing, after all.” She grinned sheepishly. “I’m real good with books. Not so much my fists. Or weapons. Or any kind of fighting at all, really.”

“I’m afraid I am not much of a warrior either,” Kalliope said. “I would only be a hindrance. Perhaps I can help warn others. Evacuate the areas that will be within his reach.”

“I’ll do that too!” Sydney said quickly, as if he wanted to volunteer himself before anyone could ask him to fight. Danny really couldn’t blame the guy. 

“Alright then.” Danny exhaled. Though the hot grip was still there in his core, he could still feel that new pulse of energy, as if it had been a part of his core all along. 

Perhaps it has, little Prince.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. I doubt that, he thought back.

Babel clapped their hands together. “Sweet! This is gonna be a blast! I have a killer road trip playlist, you guys aren’t gonna want to miss this!”

If the pained groans of the other Ancients were anything to go by, Danny figured he’d definitely gotten the better end of the deal. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The rip was already beginning to close.

The moment Valerie had noticed it return, she had made a beeline for the back door. Getting around her coworkers emerging from the kitchen into the dining room to catch a glimpse of it had been a hassle, and she didn’t understand why they had waited until the fourth or fifth time the rift appeared to start gawking.

Then again, she didn’t understand why she had waited so long to take action herself.

Irving Burns had tried to reassure everyone that Phantom would be along to take care of it the second time it forked through the sky. Maybe some part of her wanted to believe that. Maybe just once she wanted to just ignore it and let Phantom do his thing so that she didn’t have to. Ghost hunting would always be her passion, of course, but even she recognized when it came to other supernatural problems, like rifts in the sky, she was way out of her league.

Half the time it usually seemed like Phantom was out of his league too, but at least he had a bit more of an understanding than she did. Not that she really trusted him of course, but he’d probably know more about these rips, why they kept appearing and disappearing, staying for longer each time.

Maybe he’d know why there seemed to be a void behind the rips, one with a darkness that was more than just darkness. Like… a black hole. All-consuming.

Terrifying.

By this time around, though, it was clear Phantom wouldn’t be showing any time soon. And if Phantom wasn’t going to step up and do something, the Huntress would. Terror or no.

But it had taken her too long to get outside. As the door slammed shut behind her, she could see it already closing, beginning to flicker in and out of existence. 

No time to waste. She didn’t bother to check to make sure no one followed her. Everyone inside was too preoccupied with staring out the front windows. 

Calling up her suit took little more than a simple thought. The nanotech whirled around her in a flurry of red and black, molding to her like she’d been born to wear it. 

Part of her liked to think she really had been born to wear it. Like this was her purpose. One that called to her, fulfilled her, made her feel like she was truly making a difference in the world.

(Another part of her wondered if this was really it, though. Hunt after hunt, ghost after ghost. She wondered if she’d ever get the chance to do something more.)

The second her suit was done forming around her, her hoverboard shimmered into existence. Just as she took off, though, the rip flickered once, twice, then closed fully and disappeared. 

Her teeth ground together, and she resisted the urge to punch the dumpster next to her. “Damn it.”

“See? I told you!”

The sudden shout startled Valerie, breaking her concentration and causing her board to fizzle out just like the rip had. She whipped her head to the mouth of the alley as her heart skipped three beats. Her stomach sank even lower when she recognized the two people standing there. 

“Weston?” she said before she could stop herself. “What are you -”

Wes didn’t even seem to hear her. His eyes shone with triumph as he grinned widely. “I knew it, I knew it!” he shouted, pumping his fists in the air. He turned to his compatriot, looking more smug than ever. “And you didn’t believe me!”

Jazz Fenton pinched the bridge of her nose. “I never said I didn’t believe you. I said I wanted to make absolute certain first before we went barging in.”

Valerie’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “Wha- I don’t…”

Jazz shot her a sympathetic smile. “Sorry about this, Valerie. I wouldn’t have done this under normal circumstances, but…” Her eyes flicked up to the sky. “These aren’t normal circumstances.”

“I’m not -!”

“Save it, Gray!” Wes jabbed a finger at her. “We saw you! You can’t deny it!”

“Listen.” Anger burned through her blood, vaporizing her hesitancy and surprise. Maybe it was an overreaction, but Wes Weston had always been a thorn in her side, constantly spouting off his crazy theories and acting as if he was better than everyone because of it. That smug attitude drove her up a wall.

Not to mention the fact that he was, for some reason, completely obsessed with Danny. Fenton, Phantom, or otherwise. Not that she really believed him, of course.

But something about it still got to her. 

“Hey! Knock it off!” Jazz scolded. “This isn’t the time for this! You can… gloat or whatever later.” She returned her gaze to Valerie, her intense blue eyes making Valerie feel as if she was frozen where she stood. “I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, but we could really use your help.”

Valerie hesitated. Frustration - at Wes for being so him, at Phantom for failing to show up and do the job he so loved to insist he had, at herself for being stupid enough to change before sweeping the area - still boiled in her, clouding her judgment. She wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk off Wes’ face, tell Jazz to buzz off, and go figure out what on earth was happening to her town so that she could go home and take a long nap.

Really, she was only a few seconds away from doing just that when she caught the glimmer in Jazz’s eyes. Yes, there was the look of a true older sister there, wrangling both Valerie and Wes into behaving, but there was something else. Something Valerie couldn’t remember ever seeing in someone like Jazz.

Fear. And not the neurotic anxiousness Jazz Fenton was known for. This worry ran deep, enough to manifest in her eyes and in the crinkles of skin around them. 

That glimmer was enough to cool the anger in Valerie and remind her that there were priorities.

Reluctantly, she folded her arms across her chest. “And why do you think I can help you?”

Jazz inhaled, and for a moment, the glimmer of fear shone even brighter. “There’s only one person who can probably truly fix this,” she said slowly. “The only problem is I have no idea where he is. My few methods of finding him have failed. That’s where you come in.”

Nausea formed a pit in Valerie’s stomach. She had a vague idea about where Jazz was going, and she dreaded it. “Who are you looking for?”

Wes rolled his eyes. “Oh my God, can you two stop beating around the bush already? Isn’t it obvious, Gray?” 

Valerie, being the bigger person she was, sneered at him. He stuck his tongue out at her.

“Enough!” Jazz closed her eyes and inhaled again, shakily. Valerie was struck with the notion that the older girl was too used to this, too used to having to be the one person in the room with her head on straight. Between her scatter-brained parents and her sweet but horribly clumsy and disorganized brother, she probably had far too much experience with it.

Valerie closed her eyes. “Who are you looking for, Jazz?” she repeated, even as the nausea churned faster and faster. 

Why did she have the feeling she knew exactly who they were looking for?

When she opened her eyes, Jazz was still staring straight at her. “My brother,” she said, much to Valerie’s shock. “And you’re the only one who can hunt him down.”

Someone on the street screamed.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #vlad masters #fright knight #valerie gray #hannah writes #supernova #not tagging every character not sorry #danny phantom fanfic #fanfic

[crusherthedoctor]

Why does the fandom hate eggman being a villain? Like genuinely what’s the problem with him being one? The most overrated interpretation, Satam robotnik is the most adored version of him and he’s pure evil so what gives?

Because the fandom is full of hypocrites.

How often do you see this for other villains in gaming? Bowser? Ganondorf? Wily? Moneybags? Even villains who canonically have a sympathetic or good side? I doubt you'd find much. (Yes, I know there must be some people who do it with those guys, but the point is that they're nowhere near as omnipresent as they are for Eggman.)

Hell, do you ever see it this often with other villains within this very franchise? Do you ever see Mephiles get portrayed as a softie because Muh Depth? No, you don't: his one-note ass gets praised all the time for being "truly" evil. Which goes to show that the need for Eggman to have a good side because that's the only way to flesh out a villain is manufactured bullshit. Some of the most celebrated villains in all of fiction - deserving ones, not poor Leslie - are completely bad to the bone with no regrets. And why is that? Because aside from normally being hypnotic to watch, they tend to be fleshed out in other ways that have nothing to do with their morality. Because shock horror, not every villain needs the same kind of depth.

I think it might also have to do with Eggman being a "mere" man as opposed to a god or a monster or something along those lines. Those people have probably never heard of Lex Luthor. One of the points with Eggman is that he uses his intellect and his ruthless ambition to reach the heights that would normally be reserved for villains who are omnipotent right out the gate. His status as a human villain also neatly parallels the nuanced green aesop of the series: just like how technology can be used for good or for evil, humanity as a whole isn't evil (despite what internet misanthropes who coincidentally go on to become murderers would have you believe), and this is reflected with the presence of benevolent human characters in the series, but there are bad apples out there who must be dealt with nonetheless.

#Crusher's Asks #Opinion #Dr. Eggman

[qtcomicsblog]

This is Rosa Sangria aka "Blood rose Sangria", a well known figure in the world and a legendary swordsman as well. She is a very tall, very slim, and curvy woman with caramel skin and long pink hair that is curled at the end. She has large pink lips, jade green eyes, and a small almost flat nose she also has a heart tattoo on her left cheek.  Her face is obscured by a black hat with an extremely wide brim which is easily about three times her size, she wears hooped earrings, a choker with a red flower on it, a black and red off shoulder dress with a pink sash around her waist, black heels, and black gloves.  Rosa Sangria is quite stoic and cold, always appearing to be reserved and quiet and always seen smoking a cigarette. She has no qualms with killing an enemy and can be quite ruthless and sadistic at times, believing that someone who is truly despicable deserve the worst agonizingly slow death possible. However she can be sweet and kind at times, protecting those who are innocent by killing their tormenters like local bandits and drug lords. She wields a special sword called, "Valencia" a very rare sword with an ability that when anyone is cut by it, roses grow from the victims wound. Many bodies have been found with large rose bushes growing out of them. She gained her nickname "Blood rose Sangria" after an incident that happened 7 years ago prior to the beginning of the series known as "The Rose Boom". On an island called El Caibar, it was a lawless island full of criminals and thieves and all kind of underworld scum. The island had countless criminals with high bounties on their heads however no one could claim them because the island was too dangerous even for the Culinary knights. Sangria went to the island with intentions of claiming every bounty on the island, an hour after she arrived the entire island bloomed with giant roses of every color, every criminal was beaten in one fell swoop.  Because of that incident she earn the nickname "Blood rose Sangria" She also happens to be one of Salamanders followers. Tell me what you think

#manga #meat fighter #character design #sangria

[coeurxdor]

dorcas: complete intro

full name: dorcas meadowes nickname: dor, cas, dory, dora, doe (please don’t call her this unless we’ve plotted as it’s a very particular nickname reserved for someone who constantly joked that she has big doe eyes). age: verse dependent, usually between mid 20s - mid 30s date of birth: october 22   orientation: heterosexual   residence: verse dependent, but generally somewhere in england   occupation: extremely verse dependent, but in the main verse she’s either a healer or a secretary (early/mid 20s), obliviator apprentice (mid/late 20s), unspekable (late 20s/early 30s). for other occupations click here.

notes: dorcas had a hearing impairment for many years as a child which prompted her to learn how to read lips. this is something she’s still capable of doing, unless otherwise stated.

economic status: verse dependent, but generally average (somewhat broke after she moved out of her parents’ though).  

hair color: brown eye color: brown height: 5ft4 (162 cm) piercings: ears scars:

some, but most aren’t prominent. her biggest ones are: one of the back and front of the side of her abdomen, a visible white line just above her left knee.

in some verses (such as the hunger games verse and in verses where she survived the first wizarding war) dorcas has trouble hearing from her right ear and several burn scars primarily on the right side of her body (in her arms, chest, abdomen, and legs).

physical ailments: she broke her right arm (how it’s verse dependent) and it didn’t heal properly so it’s slightly bent at the elbow. neurological ailments: mild anxiety at times (verse dependent - in some verses: depression, anxiety, PTSD). allergies: typical pollen allergy. emotional stability? pretty stable.   drinks alcohol? yes, occasionally. smokes? more often than she should. turn offs: gum popping/gum chewing, recklessness, timidity, blatant ignorance, elitism. turn ons: loyalty, hard-work, people who speak passionately about their interests, confidence, dutifulness, willingness to recognize mistakes and to learn/grow.

family:

(father)  meadowes, muggle, former diplomat now a lawyer

(mother) meadowes, witch, former nurse

(sister)  etta meadowes (7 years her senior), wizengamot member. dorcas has an extremely difficult and heartbreaking relationship with her sister. 

(brother) elias meadowes (3 years her senior). former journalist, now healer.

personality analysis

for an in-depth overview of dorcas’ personality and how she behaves in friendships, romantic relationships, when stressed, when happy, etc, please click here. 

traits: loyal and values loyalty, private, home & relationships are private matters, outgoing, concerned about others, self-sacrificing, unapologetic, diplomatic, finishes most things they start, comfortable around others, passionate, values family, not very goal orientated, grounded, right-hand person, dedicated, the safe harbor in the middle of the storm, stays clam when everyone is anxious and gets anxious after everyone has calmed down, upset by the misfortunes of strangers, socially skilled, compliments others frequently, interested in the problems of others, physically affectionate, understanding, likes to know their opinions count, in touch with feelings, not afraid to draw attention to self, manipulative, good liar, believes in human goodness, thoughtful, assertive, fears doing the wrong thing, empathetic, compassionate, playful, trustworthy, ruthless when trust is broken, takes initiative, hard working, underestimated, comfortable expressing romantic interest, only enters relationships when truly interested, knows how to enjoy themself, capable of getting over social or romantic rejection, not prone to complaining, prefers to participate fully rather than view life from the sidelines, has a strong sense of values, not easily confused, true to their word, not superficial, makes friends/acquaintances easily, rational, fears inadequacy, hard-worker, encouraging, deeply devoted to those they feel deserving.

alignment: lawful good or neutral good, depends on the verse.

 [ From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them, and that is eternity. ]

intro 

if she were inclined to such things, dorcas meadowes could easily get away with murder. you would never believe it, and that’s half of the reason why she’d get away with it.  

other factors include her impish and low-key manipulative nature, and ability not to be perceived as a threat. she has warm brown eyes and her laugh is pleasant and, sometimes, comes with a little snort at the end. standing at 5ft3, she's easy to underestimate and she’s at peace with it: she knows that when she wants to be heard, she’ll be; and when she wants to break someone’s nose, it’ll get broken.  

while she’s good at multitasking she's also prone to stretching herself too thin, often thinking she can juggle all that's thrown her way.  

the daughter of a lawyer and a nurse, she’s not creative by nature but she was taught to always try to look at things from different perspectives. she knows how to listen, she’s patient, she’s receptive, and she rarely speaks impulsively. learning how people think and what they believe in is in her nature - even when she doesn’t agree with them.  

dorcas is a hopeful person, and you might be inclined to believe she thinks everyone can redeem themselves. she doesn’t. giving people chances is something she does out of respect and also because she firmly believes everyone is deserving of them. but you’ll only get one (two, in very special circumstances) after that you’re out. for good. 

 the order 

dorcas was recruited in 1970/1971 while working at mungo's. reliable, hardworking, good under stress, and with a calm energy, she has always done a lot of intelligence work. 

she spent eight years in the ministry collecting/intercepting/manipulating information and was responsible for getting people who helped the order out of the country when things went sour. she can certainly fight (she's not physically strong but she's swift and has a marksman aim) but has always done a lot of the more emotionally sophisticated work. in addition she was one of the people in charge of keeping track of who was up to what within the order, and out of her own initiative often hosted mock duels for newbie order members to practice.

if you don't know she's in the order, it doesn't matter how close you are with her: dorcas is a good liar and she's good at pretending, and you won’t know she’s in the order.

friendly 

she's a hufflepuff alumna who had a very active social life at school. dorcas has always been a people person who enjoys being out and about. massive cool aunt mixed with girl next door vibes. she knows many and gets along with all sorts of people, but only has a couple close friends. her charisma, patience, and ability to make others feels comfortable makes it easy to warm up to her. she seldom vents to others though, often not thinking her problems important enough and that she can sort them out herself. she’s a helper and a problem solver.  

 antagonistic 

everyone who saw her get punched in the eye by a bouncing bulb in 2nd year during herbology class, and then later in 7th year too.

for though, she's a hopeful and understanding person so you might be inclined to believe she thinks everyone can redeem themselves: she doesn’t. she can be incredibly ruthless. it takes a lot to gain her trust back once it's gone as she doesn't forgive and forget. she'll either cut you out of her life or be cordial enough for you to believe she's over it. she has an uncanny talent for managing to be polite towards those she doesn't like and remaining calm in the face of provocation. in addition, people have a habit of relying on her and expecting her to always be around/there for them, so they can get upset when she isn't. she can also be quite a hypocrite (often giving advice she doesn't follow) and manipulative (mostly not in a machiavellian way - she just knows how to nudge people into doing things). 

 romantic 

dorcas has never known what she'd end up doing professionally but she always though she'd be married with kids by the time she hit her 30s. 

alas, those don't seem to be in the cards for her. 

her romantic endeavors usually get suck in "bad timing" / "i like you but we're not right for each other" / "we're just good friends haha unless..." limbos. she doesn't genuinely fall in love easily either and has probably only dated two or three people tops but she is quite flirtatious and cheeky + displays affection effortlessly (often without realising it). 

she's not as confident as she comes across though and those cracks show particularly in more intimate situations. when she was younger that lack of confidence was far easier to maneuver but now it's a bigger struggle for assorted reasons including the fact that she now bears ugly scars from nasty encounters with death eaters. she's really just not feeling herself but she's also too busy to dwell on it. 

 work + others 

straight out of school she enrolled in the healer program (5 years). the order needed spies within the ministry so she first got a job of a secretary (2 years), and then when the opportunity presented itself applied to the obliviator program (4 years). her final job was as an unspeakable which was a job she loathed and only took because it came with many perks that were useful for the order. 

professionally speaking, most people think she’s lost in life and a little irresponsible, but she has a track record of being competent and personable.

#i need to re-write everything lmao lets start with this

[theoppositequeens]

they say home is where your heart is set in stone

For @kanejweek Day 5: Love (atypical affection & domesticity).

Pairing: Kaz/Inej

Rating: T

Title from Gabrielle Aplin’s “Home”.

Summary: Three of the Dregs witness unexpected moments of love and domesticity.

THEY SAY HOME IS WHERE YOUR HEART IS SET IN STONE

sleeping

Anika is about to knock on the doorframe of Kaz's office.

His light is still on, and the door is ajar, so she thinks he might be up. It is rarer, these days, that Kaz is actually awake when she comes home from the Crow Club with that evening's numbers. On his few days off, when he entrusts the club to her, he is usually asleep or gone, and she reports to him in the morning. Most often, his days off coincide with a ship pulling into berth twenty-two, and Anika imagines that he and Inej are usually off on a rooftop somewhere, making moony eyes at each other. Those two are so disgustingly in love with each other, even if they aren't the couple for public displays of affection. Anika doesn't even think she's seen them touch more than ten times.

Now, they are touching.

Through the slim gap between the door and the doorframe, Anika has a good view of Kaz's sofa. It is an ugly brown plush thing he installed after too many late nights when he couldn't be bothered to climb the stairs and slept in his chair instead. Those work nights do not coincide with a ship being in the harbor. More like it being absent.

Either way, Kaz and Inej are curled up on the plush monstrosity, still in full dress, Kaz's arms wrapped carefully around the Wraith to keep her on the sofa. They look calm and peaceful together, like they belong. A lock and a key. Balance.

Inej is the key, Anika decides, and moves her fingers from the wood where they stopped millimeters from the frame. Her boss must be truly tired to have forgotten to lock or even close the door, and he deserves his rest. Anika does not want to take over the Dregs in the case he perishes of sleep-deprivation, after all.

And they look so disgustingly cute together, so she retreats silently.

cooking

Rotty is nursing the worst hangover in his life – funny, how he thinks that anew every morning after he's gone out drinking for a night – and he stumbles into the Slat's kitchen around midday, blinking blearily at the bright sunshine streaming in through a narrow window. He is led here by the smell of food, fried and good and hopefully enough for him too. Their cook usually takes pity on him, because he brings her fresh vegetables from the markets – stolen of course – when he is having a slow day and there are no fat pigeons around to be targeted.

"Any for me?" He asks hopefully as he turns the corner and spies the pan full of eggs and fried potatoes on the stove.

"Sure," someone answers, but he is too busy cringing at the sound of his raspy and hoarse voice to notice. As he sinks into a chair, a plate of food is set down by him, and he mutters a distracted thanks before he digs in. The meal is heavenly. Cook must have done something new with the spices. They remind him of Suli food that he once ate with Inej at a small market wagon, and he reminds himself to praise her after he has finished inhaling his food.

He largely ignores the normal noise of the kitchen, and when he looks up to thank Cook, he sputters. The fried potatoes don't feel quite as nice in his windpipe, so he coughs them out discreetly, trying not to be too loud. He doesn't want to spook his boss, who is drying dishes right in front of him.

He rubs his eyes once.

Kaz Brekker, Bastard of the Barrel, is still drying dishes in the Slat's kitchen, dressed in an impeccable suit.

Inej passes Kaz another plate from the bucket of clean water that they dip the dishes in to wash off the suds, and Kaz dries it with one of the blue-checkered towels.

"– so then I told him that my ship, my rules, and he straight up ignored me. Until Sara kicked him where the sun doesn't shine, of course. Why am I hiring boys as deckhands again? Men are nothing but trouble."

The Wraith is rambling in a way Rotty rarely sees her do: Inej Ghafa is a private creature, not as much as Kaz, but enough to be reserved. Kaz nods seriously when Inej continues to tell him that men are trash and how this is the third male hire that has caused her issues and how it is going to be an all-woman ship from now on. Plus Specht. Because apparently, Specht doesn't count. Rotty will have to mention that to his old-time friend when he next sees him.

"And you don't count, of course," Inej says, as an afterthought. "You aren't like them."

Them seems to resonate deeply, and Rotty immediately thinks of the scumbags who frequent houses like the one Inej came from. He, himself, has never felt the need to pay for attention or a body. He likes his partners interested, thank you very much.

Clearly, Kaz is some type of safe haven for Inej. Rotty has watched the two of them circle each other like sharks, never sure if they will draw first blood or jump each other. Suddenly, their tension dissipated, and now he rarely focuses on them, since they have clearly sorted themselves out. Either way, it no longer interferes with his work.

Standing here, now, Rotty feels happy. Surprisingly happy. Somewhere deep in his crooked heart, he has always felt loyal to and protective of his boss, but he didn't realize he could be this proud. Proud to serve under this Barrel boss who is ruthless but cares for the Dregs, sometimes making reparations to the Slat out of his own pocket. This man who can make a woman who has been abused in the worst way feel safe, who agrees with her opinion that many men are trash but he is not one of them. Rotty likes knowing the Dregs are a good sort of gang when it comes to the Barrel with Kaz in the lead.

Inej has made Kaz more human, and he laughs when she hits him playfully with a splash of water a minute later.

At this point, Rotty realizes he has been sitting here and gaping at them for several minutes, and as Inej packs up her spices he remembers to praise her for them food and then slip out quickly before Kaz has time to think about the fact that Rotty has been there for quite a while.

Kaz may be in love with Inej, but he still dislikes being seen acting like a normal human being.

Inej's food is a magic hangover cure, and Rotty will beg her for the recipe later.

homecoming

Docking at berth twenty-two when dusk gathers is always a messy affair. First of all, pulling into the harbor that late, when the Council of Tides has almost stopped letting ships in for the night, is nerve-wracking. Then, they have to complete all the normal unloading before darkness falls.

Specht watches as the ship is secured, and directs the others on autopilot as they scurry to collect the waste that has been stored onboard to take it to the appropriate containers in the harbor and unload the legitimate cargo they have on board from Ravka, to conceal the fact that this ship hunts slavers. He sends one of the lousier girls a sharp glare when she seems ready to skulk off and watch the others work, and then eyes the docks carefully until he finds his captain.

Inej always has a private moment when they first dock, and usually she spends it on a dark corner of the dock, greeting Kaz Brekker.

There are two shapes almost intwined in the darkness, sharing an embrace.

Specht has watched them move from awkward hellos and goodbyes, to hand-holding, to soft touches on a cheek, to half-hugs, to hugs, to kisses. Their progress has been gradual, and now he can no longer anticipate what kind of greeting or goodbye he will witness. Tonight is a hug night, and when Inej bounces onto their ship a few minutes later, cheeks red and a smile on her face, Kaz follows.

It is a bit confounding still to see Kaz help Inej unload a shipment, like they are a completely normal couple who help each other with their work. Specht knows they collaborate on many schemes as Dirtyhands and the Wraith, that they are a force to be reckoned with, but they are so incredibly domestic sometimes. He thinks he sees a lot more than others do – Inej trusts him, and Kaz seems to grudgingly accept that. Therefore, they do not guard their actions carefully around him, and he has also heard his fair share from Inej about how she misses him and loves him when they are out at sea, months from making port in Ketterdam. She once asked him how she is supposed to stand this, being away from Kaz, and he answered,

"Make the moments on land count."

Inej had smiled like he'd solved a riddle, he'd ruffled her hair and she'd bounded off to sleep. He thinks that moment is the closest he'll ever come to having a kid.

Now he watches as Dirtyhands limps down a gangplank, placing a box in a waiting wagon, and Inej presses a careful kiss to his cheek later as thanks, and in that moment, Specht believes in love.

#kanej week 2021 #kanejweek2021 #kanej week #kanej #Kaz Brekker #inej ghafa #anika #rotty #specht

[bronyinabottle]

MY LITTLE PONY: A NEW GENERATION (G5 Movie) THOUGHTS

It’s finally here. The beginning of Generation 5. Though before I get into the movie in some detail I’m going to reiterate one more time what G5 means for my content and a non-spoilery summary of the movie.

Again, I will say that the movie nor will the G5 series coming later have much of an effect at all on any of my blogs. The revelation in Secrets of the Dragon’s Tear that life itself is also magic means that a world that implied to have no magic for years would mean the extinction of all life (Perhaps resulting in the wasteland we saw in the Season 5 finale). There may be something I’ll probably do at some point on a certain different blog. But even then, that may likely be a one-time thing and probably come around the time the series is starting to air.

That said, just because I’m continuing with mainly G4 content doesn’t mean I disapprove of G5. In fact, my non-spoilers thoughts on the movie is I think it is a good start for this new generation. There are questions I have that I’m not sure will be answered (Though many of those questions are the same ones I had in my Trailer/Preliminary thoughts) quickly enough. But the movie is structured well enough, in fact it’s probably a better movie as a whole compared to any of the movies G4 had (The 2017 movie, Rainbow Roadtrip, and all 4 Equestria Girls movies). As the 2017 movie was fun, but it jumped around a lot, sometimes scenes transitioning too fast. And while Rainbow Roadtrip may have been this on purpose, the entirely slice-of-life story taking up a long length… made it something of a less interesting plot to follow. It feels like some of that special could of been cut to at least a two-parter length and keep the same beats they hit. And while i have a soft spot for the 3rd and 4th Equestria Girls movies, I’ll always say a full-length pony adventure feels better suited for what I want to see out of MLP then spin-off movies with high school movie cliches and weird pony/human world shenanigans.

So movie-wise I’m not a G4 purist. It’ll take some time to see how Gen 5 compares to Friendship is Magic when we get to the series. As I feel it’d take a lot for it to surpass G4 in my mind. But I’m going to try to be as fair as possible and judge on it’s own merits. The implied connection to G4 by referring to G4 being ancient Equestria is going to naturally get the staff and hasbro pressured by fans to tell us what happened in-between the generations. Because that’s the trap they put the writers in when they made it so they want to try to say it’s in the same universe. That’s the double-edged sword Hasbro chose to have, trying to appease the G4 fanbase and keep at least some of them around. But at the cost of questions both nitpicky (Such as character design being inconsistent) or actual honest questions that need to be known (Why did magic disappear, and what happened to the Alicorns) for some of us to truly see this as the same Equestria.

After the break, I’ll have more spoilery thoughts

Even for a brief moment, it was nice seeing the Mane 6 and 2D animation. The former because of course those are the ponies many of us that saw all of G4 loved. And the latter, because while the animation wasn’t bad in this movie. I’m one of those who’d prefer to have 2D animation in an animated film. As in most cases aside from Pixar, it’s just a strong preference of mine. If this had the animation of the 2017 MLP movie but otherwise everything else was generally the same here, I feel that would of have been great.

I wish they didn’t have to have Sunny’s dad die off-screen, as he seems like he could of been a compelling character. And not to mention if perhaps he has any connection the “ancient” days in any fashion. But *sigh* I get it, it’s an old trope where part of the character’s offscreen growth is not having their parent(/s) around.

On a side note there’s quite a few times during the beginning of the movie that somewhat foreshadow what happens to Sunny later. 3 times where she had a fake horn and wings on her. Once in the flashback, then 2 separate times when she’s doing her protest where she has her own costumed wings and horn. As well as the helmet and mechanical wings.

Also, there’s no way around it. Some of the discussions this movie are going to get quite political. (Namely one part of Sunny’s song that could be seen as having a double meaning of a jab at Trumpsts regarding “Building your wall”) From the very premise in the early times, we know that the inspiration for the story was last year’s Black Lives Matter protests. Which honestly, I do support the message they’re going for. Having an anti-racism message to tell kids from the very beginning and making a focus on it is important when in G4 it only got briefly touched upon in Bridle Gossip and the Heath’s Warming Eve play. Although it certainly rose up to some form of prominence with Season 8 and onward. Still, while you can argue if G4 executed the anti-racism message well. it does come with something of a problem that the series finale left Equestria in the least divided it’s ever been.

And personally, I feel it’s a terrible interpretation of time to say “Well, it’s a realistic take. Racism has existed for years in our world. Same should go for the ponies” and while yes, racism is still rampant in today’s world. That said, that ignores that if we went from The Last Problem to the start of G5. There’s a huge difference between our world and Equestria. There is no ancient civilization that we look at like “Yeah, those were the golden days of world peace” when normally the “Golden age” was reserved for the high classes of Ancient Greece or Rome. It was most decidedly not perfect, with slavery rampant and wars for the sake of expanding an empire. While if you look at The Last Problem’s Equestria, you not only have peace between the three main types of ponies. But you literally have non-pony citizens in Equestria. You can see a dragon handing off a flower to a pony which can imply cross-species romantic relations. With the Friendship school still going strong, and was the reason that the world was saved in The Ending of the End. While perhaps it may be too glowing to say that future is perfect for everyone even in-universe. It’s certainly a hell of a lot better outlook then comparing to how we view even the so called Golden age of ancient civilizations. The Last Problem’s Equestria implies it looks to ally with every country outside of Equestria, not conquer them.

So it should still be a valid question on just how this world collapses to the point it gets to where G5 is at the start. I at least assume that it’s not the fault at all of any of the Mane 6 nor Twilight. Or at least I hope it isn’t, as I’d rather the MLP fanbase not have to deal with a The Last Jedi Luke Skywalker situation. (Where after the joyful end of the original trilogy, things go wrong as Luke almost murders the son of one of his best friends and his sister despite trying to hard and succeeding at redeeming his father who at that point in the canon was a galaxy-wide known ruthless mass-murderer.) I assume we’re at a point where everyone of the Mane 6 sans maybe Twilight are presumed dead. And even in Twilight’s case, there’s a chance that G5 decides to say that G4 overestimated the whole Alicorn immortality thing. Though I wouldn’t put it past Hasbro to have some event where the Mane 5 of G5 meet the Mane 6 in some special event whether that’s a a Season finale or a sequel movie/special. Where either the Mane 6 return in a limbo situation similar to the Pillars at the end of Season 7 or Time travel gets involved. They may even string us along on answering just what in the heck happened until they involve a meet-up with the Mane 6 in that way. Though I hope they don’t, I’d really like the beginning of the series (Or I guess this supposed special coming up in Spring supposedly?) starts to answer some questions. G5 should get a chance to stand on it’s own, but I hope the writers are actually well aware there will be so many questions people have and address them in the show. A cynical part of me feels like they’re likely to string us along until at least the Season 1 finale.

Onto the characters for a bit. I think Izzy Moonbow was absolutely the most stand-out character in the whole movie. She was energetic, funny, and aside from “The pegasi are bad news” she along with Zipp and Sunny were the most averse to the way the world was. She was already the most popular due to the tennis ball memes. But now it feels like she legit stands on her own and most certainly deserves to be the most popular character of G5 thus far. Behind her in a bit of a surprise to me was Zipp, who I thought would be mainly a Rainbow Dash-expy. Though she really helps out Izzy and Sunny in Zephyr Heights. Despite having Twilight be my favorite pony from the very beginning of G4 all the way to the end, I didn’t feel as strongly about Sunny for some reason. So she’s in the middle of the pack, she could grow on me later. I just don’t know if I click with her as much as I did with Twilight. As for the last two, while I don’t hate either of them. Either one could be the lowest of the 5 for one reason or another. Pipp (Although I will say she's probably my favorite character design out of the 5) feels like she doesn’t do a whole lot in the movie and it takes until she’s forced to be an outlaw because the other choice was to get imprisoned like her mother was. So she may come off as quite pretentious, though it’s arguable Rarity was the same way early in G4. But she definitely grew later. Could be the same case for Pipp. And as for Hitch, he has shining moments in the film. But what might hurt him is the fact he was such a bad friend to Sunny up until the campfire scene. “I’m the last real friend you have. You really want to lose me too?” is not a healthy friendship. Hitch may have been Sunny’s friend the longest, but it definitely feels like Izzy connected immediately. I don’t know if this show will get into shipping any of the main characters between each other mid-show, but if they do. I hope it’s between Izzy and Sunny currently, cause Hitch and Sunny just gives bad vibes even with Hitch getting better later.

None of the songs I felt were particularly too special. Though I think the closest was Sprout’s “Danger, Danger” song that has similarities to Smells Like Teen Spirit in some parts of the song since I tend towards more rock/metal-esque music.

I touched upon it earlier, but there’s perhaps a stand-out reason for why the G5 movie outdid the 2017 MLP Movie. They have the typical “Our heroic group splits after a sad moment before coming together again for the climatic good end” in Sunny seeing that that the two crystals don’t instantly bring magic back, and when Twilight left the group after an argument that happened with Twilight trying to take a pearl. They perform the same purpose in the movie. But the crystals not working, crushing Sunny’s hope for a little while works better into the story. Where as Twilight’s part frustratingly brought the sea pony scene to an end too quickly and/or doesn’t feel right of Twilight to have done that. It felt forced in the 2017 movie, but works out in the G5 movie. Especially since a part of it is that it’s not the crystals themselves capable of bringing magic back. But it’s the journey going after the crystals that brings the ponies themselves their magic back.

Just a small note on dictator Sprout, he tries to cause a war. Though admittedly the film seems to treat him as a joke the entire time despite his seriously evil ambitions. With the only repercussions is he gets a wishy-washy answer on if he was a good sheriff from his mom. I don’t quite know how I feel about that yet, but I wonder what they’ll have in mind for Sprout given his actions. He and his mom are the only ones that feel like a true antagonist. Though they seem to be ok with things fast when the magic comes back.

But anyway on to the ending, we see that Sunny becomes an Alicorn. Which I guess with no other real Alicorns around, I guess it makes sense to alicornify her since she’s the real leader behind what united the leaders of each type of pony again. Though there is of course this weird thing where her horn and wings don’t seem like as much a part of her body compared to very obvious connected wings on Twilight when she got hers. Sunny keeps her horn and wings to the end of the movie, and has colored streaks in her hair. Though I do wonder if that;s truly permanent. If it is permanent, I suppose at least they got to have a headstart and have it established at the end of the introductory movie rather then have it shock people at the end of a shortened 3rd season. I still feel like Twilight had well earned her alicornhood considering that besides what she did in the series. She has a whole childhood and time as a teenager learning under Celestia. Which had to mean something, and I’m not sure Celestia just leaving her to live the rest of her days with her friends in ponyville was that. Sunny has no doubt been trying countless time to try to spread friendship throughout her life even after the tragedy of her father’s passing. So there’s no doubt she’s been through a lot, and may indeed be worthy of being an Alicorn at this point. Though in terms of screentime before Alicornhood it's definitely a lot less then Twilight had. And it is at least nice to see that it is possible for non-unicorns to become one. (The only case of that we sort of got was a children's book that may or may not be canon that implied Cadence was a pegasus before she ascended)

Though you have to wonder if the visual differences such as Sunny’s alicorn horn and wings, the cutie mark only on one side (Yes I know that’s how it was normally in the MLP generations before G4. But a distinct visual difference between shows is still noticeable even if the context of G4’s cutie marks on both sides of the flank was about it being easier on the puppets for Flash), and how animals can have wings or weird round shapes such as those bunnies when G4 has normal looking animals. There’s enough striking visual differences for any nitpicky G4 to say “This isn’t the same Equestria”. And if someone tries to say maybe some sort of evolution happened. That’s still trying to put a little too much real world logic on this fantasy world. And evolution tends to take millions of years to have such dramatic changes. Not 1000 years or so, there should still be normal looking animals at this point and time. And these small details are probably going to be the things most ignored but nonetheless can build a case that this isn’t the same Equestria. Even if they touch on the important questions like how magic disappeared and what happened to the Mane 6, there will be details they make different that will add to the case that this is it’s own universe if it doesn’t quite matchup with what was remembered about G4. There will be fans who will be that nitpicky to call G5 out of continuity for small details like that. That is again the trap they put themselves in when they decided to try to say it’s the same Equestria.

All-in-all though, I think that’s at least a good enough chunk about my thoughts on the movie to end off here. If there’s something I missed or something from the movie you’d like me to give a particular opinion about or elaborate on something feel free to ask me here. G5 is indeed off to a good start, just I will be along the many hoping some questions get answered sooner then later. And I’m not sure I’m confident in getting anywhere until a Season finale or a 2nd movie. And it’ll be a year before the series starts proper (Though again I guess there’s a 44 minute special coming in Spring to try to hold us over). But I could definitely see G5 finding it's own following, now there's just the inevitable clashes between some of the more vocal fans of each generation bickering at eachother. But hoping there will be enough that take the movie's lessons on divisiveness to heart and be able to enjoy both even if there may be preferences.

#mlp #my little pony #g5 #mlp g5 #netflix #my little pony the next generation #my little pony movie #generation 5

[hellyeahbakubby]

“after all these years” | chisaki k.

♔ - after years of keeping your feelings for Kai to yourself you finally let them out

pairings - chisaki kai x fem!reader

a/n: thank you for requesting! I really enjoyed writing this. I hope everyone’s having a good day and if not that’s ok, you’re cool :)

warnings: suggestive content ig

masterlist ▬

The wishful ache never truly left the back of your mind. No matter how many times he dismissed your presence without a second glance. No matter how seemingly immune he was to all human feelings. No matter how cold he’d become. You found yourself unable to let go of the hope that maybe you weren’t simply dreaming. 

Kai had been more than just a friend to you since you were children. You’d always thought there was this fantastical connection between the two of you and as you grew older and more aware you were quick to recognise that there was a label for what you had. Although things were much different when you were kids stumbling about the place, trying not to get in the Shie Hassaikai’s way, you’d never mistaken that connection for anything else. From your teenage years to early adulthood you knew that you were in love with him, and in all honesty you’d upheld the belief that he felt similarly. 

The birth of Overhaul was a cruel awakening to you. Even as a child Kai wasn’t as forthcoming as you would expect, he was distant and calculating. Although frequent exposure to you had softened him to your presence and allowed you to class yourself as a friend he wasn’t exactly hospitable. His wit and god-given features made him near impossible to overlook, but what captured you from day one was the slight kindnesses he paid you. You’d never questioned that he was always looking for things to benefit him and the Shie Hassaikai but he wasn’t a generous soul. It often took you by surprise when his hard demeanor broke and he took the time to comfort or entertain you. Everyone else aside from The Boss didn’t receive so much as a hard stare but he seemed interested in you, as if he found as much comfort in you as you did him. At the very least you confirmed he liked having you around. 

Which is why when The Boss fell ill and he took the responsibility of the gang on board you couldn’t help but feel that Kai had been replaced. Maybe there’d been signs but you’d chosen to ignore them but the change was so sudden, it knocked the wind out of you. Every drop of compassion was shed from those amber eyes and although his words told of loyalty and collaboration you no longer felt he truly meant them. 

Cleanliness had always been one of his more eccentric interests but it had become fully fledged mania now that he sat in The Boss’ chair. Anywhere he went within the underground HQ was sanitized to the point of overdoing it. Everyone had to have top tier hygiene for fear of punishment you’d think be reserved for treason. All of the high ranking members of the organisation wore elaborate masks resembling those of plague doctors. It was sinister. The Hassaikai had never been the most moral organisation but its honour had been replaced by something cold and inevitable, something inherently evil. But for all of your observation and interpretation you never considered Overhaul to be the definite root of the issue. You couldn't accept that the man you loved had become a monster.

“I’m honoured to be joining you again, Chisaki,” you said. Sitting on a narrow couch you looked up from the tea table to him. His right arm hung off that of the couch he sat on, his posture stiff as he leaned back slightly. Those unblinking amber eyes bore into your soul.

You reached out for the steaming cup of tea before you, taking a sip without hesitation. You no longer expected him to reply to you. The first Wednesday of every month you came and had tea with him in the afternoon, at first you’d tried to make small talk but had quickly learned he wasn’t interested in such pleasantries. He wasn’t interested in talking at all you realised after the fifth month of utter silence. He didn’t even drink the tea despite there always being two cups. He chose to sit and watch you instead, barely moving. What he was interested in or his purpose in these visits you had no clue. It probably should have bothered you more but you were grateful that he still made time in his busy days to sit with you for half an hour. What did bother you though, was his rejection of his name.

The first time you’d had tea you referred to him as ‘Kai’, as you had for your entire life. He snarled at you in a way that made you want to run and cry. It was the first time he’d even treated you with such disdain. So now he was Chisaki. It hurt to think he’d changed so drastically without your notice. How could you have been so blind?

It was this that crushed your soul. For years you’d held onto the hope that he loved you back but hadn’t found the time or the words to express his feelings so you waited. But now you felt nothing short of despair. Having harboured those feelings for so long you couldn’t just brush them off. You wanted nothing more than to tell him how you felt but you were worried of what would happen if you did. You were stuck in an endless loop of anguish and desperation. 

“What did you do to your hand?”

At first you weren’t sure you’d heard properly. He looked no different, hadn’t moved a muscle but blinking a couple of times you realised he had indeed asked you a question. His voice was so familiar and yet so strangely new to your ears.

“I… uh, I burnt it on a baking tray.” You looked down at your bandaged palm and fingertips. 

His only reaction was the twitch of an eyebrow. You shrank into yourself slightly. His apathetic reaction was far worse than the months of silence. How could he break that silence after so long only to return to it immediately? It felt crueler than any torture. 

“Why do you do this?” 

You’d never intended to ask that question but the build up for the past months just came out at the notice of his indifference. He tipped his head sideways and your heart thumped. Yet again no answer.

The wheels within you had begun to turn and you stood up, his eyes watching your every move. You moved around the table and sat down on the couch next to him, careful to not let your knees touch. You knew that he was prone to break out in hives at the thought of being in contact with another, likely dirty, human being. He’d always been fine around you in the past but the distance that had grown between you may have changed that.

Whatever courage you’d found lifted your hand to him. By far one of your most stupid decisions but you felt a great wave of hatred rise through you at the sight of that beaked mask pointing so threatningly at you. He made no move to stop you as you reached up but

your fingertips had barely brushed the string that secured his mask when his gloved hand was tight around your wrist. You stared straight into those burning irises and you could see he was warning you not to go any further. Looking back at your hand you noticed how perfectly smooth his skin was. Surely with this proximity he’d have been itching already if he was going to at all.

 Him still holding onto your wrist you pried the string off his ear. 

You audibly inhaled, some sort of twisted relief rushed into you at the sight of his face, whole and without a scratch, just as you remembered it, finally laid before you without being obscured. You didn’t even bother to think about the fact that he’d let you remove it.

“I miss you,” you breathed.

Kai regarded you with cautious delight, almost as if he’d been waiting for that. He blinked lazily, that cruel triumph dancing across his face. 

It was as if impulsiveness was running like electricity through you because less than a moment after you thought it you were kissing him. Kissing Kai like you’d always wanted to. Your hands pressed gently to his chest, leaning closer to him than you’d ever been before. You no longer cared for the consequences because he tasted like gold and lust and the stars and pomegranate seeds. He was more than you’d ever hoped and ever wished for and you were terrified for what would happen when the kiss ended but, fuck, you loved it. You loved him. Kai. You loved Kai.

And then one of his hands was on your chin, holding you to him, the other resting on your hip. He kissed you back. Harder than you’d expected. There was a hunger to it, you could taste the ache he had. A daunting ache, it wanted to consume you, comfort you, and corrupt you all at once. It was overpowering and as he kissed you, you felt something in him ignite. Whatever he’d been missing, whatever part of cold Overhaul had been lost was restored and Kai was full of this new heat, a heat ready and willing to devastate you.

“Oh, Angel,” he uttered, pulling himself from your lips to kiss your cheek, your jaw, whatever he could. Delighting in the feeling of your skin under his lips, in his hands. His fingertips dug into your skin, attaching himself to you. He’d never wanted to possess something more than he wanted to claim you now. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing but it felt right and he wasn’t about to stop. He pulled you by the hips onto his lap, one of your knees between his. Pulling back from you for a moment, he looked you up and down with his ruthless gaze. His eyes gleamed, glee in them. 

“Pretty girl,” he cooed. You swallowed. Moments ago you’d been convinced he couldn’t care less about you but now. The flood gates had been opened and now, this cold, cruel man beneath you looked like he wanted nothing more than to ruin you. 

He chuckled lowly in his throat. “I think you deserve a reward for your patience, Angel. Waiting all these years, such a good girl.”

#kai chisaki #kai chisaki x reader #kai chisaki x y/n #kai chisaki x you #chisaki overhaul #chisaki x reader #chisaki kai #overhaul #overhaul x reader #mha #bnha #bnha overhaul #bnha x reader

[thesunwillshineonusagain757]

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

This is the third part in the series, where I put my headcanons about Rhaegar Targaryen, and about his personality. This came as an idea from a post from @dragonstemper . So yeah let’s get this started…

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

Rhaegar has a unique perspective and vigorous intellect, often losing himself in his thoughts and own world inside his mind, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, hardly ever stops thinking. From the moment he wakes up, Rhaegar's mind buzzes with ideas, questions, and insights. At times, he may even find himself conducting full-fledged debates in his own head. Imaginative and curious, Rhaegar Targaryen can find endless fascination in the workings of his own mind. So sometimes on his own, with no interruptions, is what gives him the greatest feeling of happiness.

Any stress or daily worries shed from his mind, giving him an amount of time to focus on what he really cares about: deep, complex thoughts that he can analyse and synthesize into entirely new concepts, that brings Rhaegar a deep feeling of joy and fulfilment. Although Rhaegar can be quite content with just his ideas, books being the greatest catalyst in order to initiate it. Books about science, and philosophy or even how to cook the best omelet, or maybe even a romance book about Jenny of Oldstones. Either way, the book has to carry him away to a point, where the next fascinating thought comes into the next grand idea.

Rhaegar has a very reserved nature, so he likes to stay indoors , sitting in the library reading books and debating ideas. But he found that he also has a particular liking for going outside, it helps him to connect with the world and other people. It was easy for him to skip things and isolate himself, and not think about the surrounding people ( in particular his father and his tantrums and episodes of craziness ) . He found comfort in his loneliness, yet he found going outside especially with his children helped him feel better.

In his life he had lived with people who are very negative ( such as HIS FATHER ) so he also found that avoiding him the most was a blessing for his mental health and happiness, of course he could be honest and tell Aerys to stop being so negative or confronting him because he knew dire consequences would follow, so he just avoided his father all together.

New ideas, bring Rhaegar Joy. Some grand possibility opening up to him, paving a new path to truth and meaning. A spark of curiosity and he goes into his realm of familiarity, searching for conceptual precision, piqued by a word or thought, and when Rhaegar arrives at an answer and conclusion that makes sense to him, he places it gently in his framework of truth like a delicate feather dangling from a spider’s web, liable to be blown away at the slightest wind that his storm of new possibility. He is terribly happy to go on thought journeys, even with the people he loves . It gives him an overflowing feeling of pure joy.

Now happiness, to Rhaegar comes a lot from the feeling fulfilment, and a friend to share in the crazy in the way to go. Rhaegar doesn't consider himself crazy ( as you know cough cough you know who ) but he has very particular things he likes and thinks about, that to outsiders, and people that don't know about what he is talking can sound crazy, a whole lot of crazy. So sharing his thoughts and particular wondering points brings him a lot of fulfilment, he can go on and on for hours discussing and debating about his areas of interest.

The best-case scenario would be if it takes no effort , if he ever found someone who is already on the same page as he is. Someone with whom he can talk has the same wave level of loco as he does. Someone to listen to his thoughts and theories and discuss the ideas and discoveries and latest findings. Furthermore, someone to agree, validate and debate with him! But most importantly of all, listen without judgement and engage him without fear of social consequences.

But why? Simple, because all he wants it's an individual with mutual understanding that nothing in this life is even real, much less fathomable or truly tangible. Something to unites him and this individual or group of individuals in a way that means everything is up for discussion. This unity provides him with a sense of camaraderie, something Rhaegar forgets to acknowledge sometimes, that he needs this will bring him a spirit of true fulfilment.

Summarizing: A few hours alone with an interesting book. People might say no man is an island, but Rhaegar feels ' with himself' when he has a nice chunk of solitude and can stretch his intellectual muscles during that time without any interruptions from the outside world. And also some people with whom he can discuss those books. The man is not demanding, he just needs a book club.

𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 ?

Rhaegar is someone who struggles with showing kindness, he had his mother Rhaella as an example of warmth in his own way. She thought to him that love only grows by sharing, but she was also very sad, and grief stricken for good reasons, she lost a lot of babies and her husband was a psychopathic maniac, so yeah showing kindness wasn’t easy, so he didn’t have many good examples that stuck with him about being kind. Unkind, selfish, and inconsiderate were most of the things that Rhaegar learned from his father, and from most of the surrounding people, he was the prince, but he could see the shallowness of their actions. It was almost certain that he would turn out as fucked up as his father, but he didn’t.

Most people thought that for him to be kind, he needed to make kindness his most important way of doing things. But he came to be kind and helpful, but the thing is that he doesn’t see fit to be kind and show kindness to those who he isn’t sure deserve it. It also would be worth mentioning that Rhaegar has promised himself never to be, like his father, to never have that erratic behaviour, to not be envious, jealous, suspicious, and violent, to not be prone to furious outbursts. So kindness could be somewhat of a handicap. He can be prone to over-giving to the people closest to his heart, in things such as self-sacrifice, and other actions that might be deleterious to him and his health. He is a very mature person so poor value judgment doesn't often happen to say it even happens with Rhaegar, so he would never expose himself to ruthless individuals, but over giving to those who have his trust and love before thinking of his own health might happen.

Rhaegar will show his empathy and kindness, the fact that Rhaegar is very emotionally and intellectually deep makes his act to be very significant. So that's why he shows empathy when he concerns himself, and understands the feeling like your pain others feel, on a very deep level he might not show it much, but he feels intense emotion just not too outwardly. So in the same breath that Rhaegar will be very calm, he will be taking it all in, almost in a sombre sober way, but somehow he lets people know that he gets it, and he understands profoundly the essence of what the pain or uneasy feeling others around him experience.

The dragon prince shows his empathy with the soothing, feeling his understanding and sympathy bring the people he is close to. He is a shoulder to cry on. Even if Rhaegar in the situation in question remains calm while trying to understand the feelings from people around him. It's like he hits people with a tsunami of understanding, most of it is underwater and not displayed outwardly, but there is a tremendous depth, because he'll be there by the people he has closest to his heart, as he deals with their feelings and turmoil.

Summarizing: Rhaegar’s kindness is not given easily, and it’s not given to everyone, only to those close to his heart, but when given to an individual it comes as understanding. Understanding free of judgement, and helping to solve problems and turmoil, or soothing and comforting when the problem presents itself as pain, anything to make these people feel understood and valued .

𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 :

Rhaegar's happiness comes from very reserved activities, his mind always races with thought so to relax he will read a book about space, magic, romance, and keep it to himself to recharge his energy. The dragon prince’s kindness comes from him trying to understand people around him, understanding their turmoil, problems, doubts, likes, dislikes, likes, he shows his empathy and kindness by understanding.

───── ⟨ 𝐑𝐓 ⟩ ─────

So what do you guys think of it @rhaelyas @dragonstemper @aerltarg @vivacissimx @imaginaryvane @valaenarhaegarovna @rhaegar-and-lyanna @rhaegarxlyanna @lorelei-4 @rhaelyanna @intheairwewilllookmonstrous

#dragon feelings #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #got #asoiaf #house stargaryen #house targaryen #prince rhaegar targaryen #rhaegar targayen #rhaelya #a character study #valyrian scrolls #valyrianscrolls #headcanons #rhaelya headcanons

[xlady-saya]

this red is for you [fic]

Relationships: aaron/katelyn, andrew/neil

Summary: Katelyn never considered herself capable of doling out violence.

It has always been a far away thought, dampened by college courses and late night dates with her boyfriend. She lives a stereotypical life, despite everything she's been through with Aaron. Aside from her growing connection with the notoriously troublesome Foxes, nothing much about her life has changed.

Even then, she's learning she's still able to surprise herself. When Katelyn witnesses Neil defending Andrew, her own protective rage rears its head, ready to be explored.

And maybe that's a good thing.

Tags: katelyn pov, discussions of tilda/past abuse, fluff, protective neil, protective katelyn

Read on ao3! 

The sound of a pipe shattering on the ground dislodges something inside Katelyn; it's unexpected, but not entirely unfamiliar. She'd felt the inklings of this...feeling during Aaron's trial, when he cried in her arms, and even back when she first heard the name Tilda.

She'd never been able to coax it fully out into the light, but she supposes it had to happen eventually. Maybe she only sees it now because she's stepped too far into the dark.

And of course, Neil is the spark to ignite the flames of realization.

The look in Neil's eyes is nothing short of menacing, like the feeling that comes from being cornered, or from realizing you're in danger a little too late to do anything about it. It stops Katelyn in an instant, her hair standing on end.

See, Katelyn is not deluded enough to think she exists in a safe world. She's especially not deluded enough to think she surrounds herself with safe people either.

That's just how it worked out, and at this point she's so deep in the fox den she couldn't fathom clawing her way out. It's cozy here anyways...warm...

But from other people's points of view, she should've never been the type to venture here. She knows it's easy to label her as naive, or in over her head. She's, by all definitions, a good girl. Good girl. Whatever that means.

It's funny—after spending such a long time around her boyfriend and his family, she's not sure the concepts of good and bad can ever be so straightforward in her mind again.

But she still gets called that when she visits home. That always made her embarrassed; it's how the people at church referred to her, how her mother's friends gushed over her.

And she took it with a smile, because well, what else was there to do? It became a broken record statement, reiterated so many times she hardly noticed. But it made her parents happy, and it had gotten her far in life.

Perfect grades, a put together family, and a cheeriness that couldn't be beaten out of her. It's a brand of resilience that's often overlooked, but she's never resented the judgement passed on her for it. She's well aware of the checklists people run through when they see her; it's second nature to cross off every box to match her up with the stereotype. Even Aaron did it, when they first met.

And that's fine.

She's never had a problem occupying those boxes in people's minds, because in her own, she always ran through an infinite plane with no walls, no end.

It's a privileged way of thinking, and a little ridiculous, but she's proud that she's never become trapped by those boxes in her own head. She's happy Aaron now sees the real her, a fully fleshed out person who defied everything Aaron expected of her.

She's proud of that, but if she's being honest, she never had any doubts when it came to the two of them.

The truth is she's always done whatever she wanted, and she's never allowed herself to be ruled by expectations. She walks her own path, and she'll continue to do so, it's just...

For a long time, everything she wanted just so happened to fall in line with what everyone else wanted, so no one ever thought to notice how headstrong and stubborn she could truly be. How brave she could be in the face of a world she now knows can be hideous.

Get good grades, make friends, pick a successful field of study. No problem. Katelyn loves being a cheerleader, and she's dreamed of being a physician since middle school. She likes being nice, and positive. She doesn't care that she can't shut up.

It had all fallen into place, it had all equaled good girl.

Until Aaron, until everything that came with him.

And see, for a lot of people that's an issue, it doesn't compute. Someone like Katelyn, who in their eyes has followed all the rules, is not supposed to be with someone like Aaron, with their perception of him.

Because he follows no rules; there's blood on his hands and bruises on his skin which will never fade. There's dulled track marks and a broken family, barely mended. He is not what anyone wanted for her.

But Katelyn...she wouldn't trade this life with him for anything. That feeling, that love, singes so deep Katelyn sometimes thinks her autopsy will show third degree burns on every part of her, charred into the bone and marrow.

And honestly, (and not to be rude), fuck those people. At the end of the day she knows Aaron, not them. It had not been an accident, an unfortunate case of 'can't help who you love,' and she hates when it's seen that way.

She'd embraced everything, because he'd done the same for her. And not just Aaron, but the Foxes accepted her too.

For the entire summer leading up to her freshman year and all the way through her schooling, she's heard the rumors, the whispers. The Foxes are notorious for their roughness, their almost animalistic drive to fight through blood and bone to survive. They have records, and a penchant for violence. They've lived through so much.

Unspeakable, brutal horrors. They still keep Katelyn up at night sometimes, holding Aaron so close to her he wakes up with a start. That's the real naive part of her, the part Andrew might scoff or glare at her for.

She doesn't care; no one deserves the things the Foxes went through. Anyone who tries to disagree with her goes immediately on her shit list.

Because even Andrew, with his initial hatred of her, sees what others do not. The Foxes protect their own, and they accept those who lend a hand to do the same. They'd welcomed her because of her love for Aaron, and eventually because of her love for his family. For all of them.

So again, Katelyn knows she doesn't run with a safe crowd.

But they make her feel safe, and accepted, and that's always what has mattered most to her.

That being said, as much as she's part of them, she's not one of them. She never believed she had that edge, that ruthlessness and impulsivity which could make her snap in the blink of an eye.

She was naive about that too, it seems.

The end of the pipe breaks off the moment Neil strikes it against the nearest railing, and before Katelyn can so much as blink, he has it against the football player's throat.

The rusted piece of metal is sharp and ribbed at the edge now, at the part closest to the vulnerable expanse of the player's neck. Katelyn is good at anatomy, better than Aaron. She knows exactly where the jugular is, and she's sure Neil does too. He can't be that precise on accident.

Katelyn's limbs lock up, not out of fear or concern, but out of pure shock. They're behind the gym, no one else around due to the late hour. The forgotten pieces of the school's construction project are strewn around the back entrance, and well...that explains where Neil got the pipe.

Katelyn hadn't even noticed, hadn't even comprehended Neil's sharp movements until the pipe was already in his hand. Neil's fast, but this isn't the normal agility, the sprints he employs on the Exy court.

This was unadulterated instinct, and the look in his eyes...

Television doesn't do it justice, but it's there. It's murder, packaged prettily in pools of blue. The football player doesn't dare to move his hands even in surrender— they're pinned at his side and locked up so hard, Katelyn's own muscles ache. He's trembling up at Neil, whose cleat is pressed firmly into his sternum. "H-hey man, calm down, I didn't mean--"

He wheezes next, and Katelyn realizes Neil must be pressing harder with each breath.

She doesn't move, doesn't even think to. At some point she dropped her gym bag, and shivers at the mood shift. Just a few minutes ago, Neil was laughing in that reserved way of his, trying to mimic Katelyn's cheer moves while she snapped pictures.

Because Andrew would appreciate them, deep down, she thought.

She wonders if Andrew would appreciate this Neil too, the one who is now devoid of any emotion. His face is a blank slate, ire bleeding through the edges.

Katelyn has no idea what the football player said as he passed them, and she's glad she didn't. All she heard was the clipped mumble, Andrew's name.

And then Neil was no longer next to her.

She can only guess how ugly the statement was, and that's the first thing that scares her about herself. She has no desire to stop Neil, and she knows deep down she won't.

It's the first crack in her delusion.

"You didn't mean it?" Neil states, barely questioning. His voice walks the line of a whisper, and his head tilt reminds Katelyn more of a rabid dog than a fox for a moment. Like Neil is gauging what angle is best to go for the throat. "Are you saying that because I could kill you right now, or do you always have changes of heart at such convenient times?"

The football player pales, but even he doesn't truly know. Despite all of Neil's history coming out to the general public, he can't possibly know how serious Neil is.

But Katelyn does, and she wraps her arms around herself from the chill. Still, she does nothing.

It's more fascinating than anything to her; Neil's impulsive arguments are always loud, full of sass, snarky...

This is not that.

Neil presses the pipe securely into the man's flesh, and doesn't look surprised when that's the moment the pleading starts. "Wait, ple--"

That, Neil flinches at. "Shut up," he says, quietly, but it's loud in the narrow space. Katelyn even steps back from the force of it. And oh, she gets it, and sadness unfurls in her chest. "Just shut up."

Then, it happens.

Now, Katelyn has never actually seen Neil do this. She's only heard stories from Aaron. To her, Neil's smile is a reserved, rare thing, but sweet nonetheless. It's always a win when she can cause one—even if it’s the wry, sardonic kind. They make her feel accomplished, happy.

Neil's smile now is one Katelyn hopes to never see again. It's so slow, it almost reminds her of a mask; the jagged teeth don't quite fit together. She's heard the rumors of the Butcher's Smile, and she's seen Neil cringe every time.

But in her mind, that's all bullshit; this is all Neil's rage, cold and cutting. It could never belong to anyone else.

Neil takes his leg off the player's chest, dropping down so they're eye level. He takes the pipe away, and the football player doesn't move, doesn't do anything. It's arrogant, in a way; Neil is very clearly saying he can hinder this man with this look alone, this single threat.

Neil's smile grows. "Now listen, okay? You can trade insults with me all day, I don't give half a shit. But don't you ever fucking talk to me about Andrew again. Do you understand me?"

Katelyn winces at the same moment the football player jumps away from Neil. Well, if he doesn't understand from that, there's no getting through to him.

He stumbles as he runs away, kicking over some stray pipes in the process as he calls back over his shoulder. "Freak!"

Neil snorts as he stands, throwing the pipe with disinterest to the side. "How original."

And just like that, a switch is flipped. Neil turns back to her, hands in his hoodie, and the traces of the forbidden smile are wiped away as he drags a hand over his face to correct the muscles there. Then it's back to his neutral facade, with a dash of wariness mixed in as he approaches her.

She hasn't moved.

"Katelyn." Neil snaps his fingers in front of her face, and Katelyn glares as she bats his hand away.

Her other hand flies to her chest, trying to tamper down the beating of her heart. She knows Neil is protective, that Andrew is too. It's obvious, given how they are, but that...that was—

"How...you—" she begins, but can't find the words. She huffs, and watches as Neil picks up her duffel and shoves it into her arms without care.

He's never been particularly gentle, and Katelyn's always appreciated it. Neil's not a liar anymore, though he's a damn good one. He'll give her his genuine reactions, no matter how callous they are.

"Yes," he agrees, which makes her glare harder. The only thing that gives her some satisfaction is the light blush on his face. Interesting. "Don't make a big deal out of it."

"But...why?" she tries, dropping her bag again. Neil tracks it, in that infuriating way he always does. In retaliation, Katelyn snaps right in his face until he's staring at her again, just as done as he looks when she talks about The Bachelor. "If you can protect yourself like that, why...?"

Why does everyone talk about Neil like he can barely throw a punch? In fact, Katelyn's pretty sure everyone thinks he's got an addiction to starting fights with no way of winning them.

That’s quite obviously not the case.

But Neil just shrugs, shouldering Katelyn's bag for her. Neil fidgets then, shifting his weight, and his blush grows. "I like when Andrew protects me," he whispers, staring at his shoes. It's such a sweet, innocent confession, Katelyn nearly can't believe it.

But in reality, and just from seeing Neil's soft smile as he thinks of Andrew, she totally can.

This piece of work...

Katelyn huffs, throwing her hands up. "That's a lot of faith to put in someone."

It gets her the rise she wants. Neil glares at her, pouting. "Andrew might not have every fighting skill in the book but he's strong," he says, head held high. They're the same height, so it barely works. "And he's powered by pure force of will. It doesn't matter who he's fighting, or how bad he's hurt, Andrew will do significant damage."

Katelyn waves him off, taking her bag back. She doesn't doubt it; she was almost on the receiving end of such damage, and Neil was a witness.

She thinks that's the end of it when Neil turns around to grab his own bag, but something uneasy and restless still churns inside her. She's not sure why it's such a catalyst, but she feels the seams of something splitting open.

Neil hadn't even hesitated to go on the offensive for Andrew, something he usually avoids. A situation he'd normally attack verbally collided with the urge for bloodshed, the protective instinct spiking in him until it overflowed.

Like there was no choice, no other decision to make.

Can the need to protect really be so strong, the consequences of murder don't even matter?

Oh, no, no. She throws that thought out right away, admonishing herself for her own stupidity. The answer is yes—a deafening, resounding yes. She thinks of a car crash, a bloody exy racquet.

In her mind, in the smallest, darkest corners...she always regarded those moments as essential.

The churning in her stomach gets worse; it feels wrong, and ugly, to say certain people deserve to die. She's always been taught that wishing that level of ill on someone was a sin itself, but here she is, thinking it anyways.

Because they did deserve to die. She shudders, the guilt immense, because she doesn't feel bad but she knows she should.

And then it becomes so clear what her hang up is.

Would she ever do that? Could she spill blood for Aaron, and wipe her hands afterwards? Would she be alright, just knowing she'd kept him safe?

The answer is yelling, clawing to break through, but she stuffs it down. She's a coward sometimes; she doesn't know how to handle the reality of that answer.

Neil's voice snaps her out of it, but in typical Neil fashion, he rips the problem open all the way so she can see it. So she can't escape it.

"Andrew doesn't ever protect himself against words. Boundaries, lines...he knows how to handle those. But he doesn't care what people say, no matter how putrid the shit out of their mouths is," Neil says when he turns back to her, half shrouded. There's a tremble in his voice, one only rage can produce. There's not an ounce of doubt in his face. "So I will."

'I will fight the world for this person.'

Katelyn knows the feeling well. Too well, even. It terrifies her, how much she understands. Her hand clenches around her heart, and she thinks of how that feeling surged whenever Aaron cried in her arms after the trial. Whenever she heard the rumors, the whispers...

She would just see red, splashed on walls in flashes, painted in thick stripes. And she clamped that feeling down, tamed it into something nicer and prettier. She applied it in other ways, in sharp glares and acts of affection. Giving Aaron what he deserves: unconditional love, instead of heavy hands and insults.

She disguised the wild dog inside her, too. Good girl.

But when Neil smirks at her, the lingering ghost of that smile hidden beneath, it lets the beast loose.

"I know what everyone thinks of Andrew, and they're right. He can be dangerous when it's required," Neil hums, fond and icy all at once. "But believe me, when it comes down to it, I'm the scary one."

Even if no one else realizes it, Katelyn will never doubt that again. She feels the ring of thorns around her throat, pressing tighter as she forces out the question. She needs to know, or she needs to hear it.

"You'd kill?" Katelyn asks, small and childish. It's not even a complete question, but Neil's eyes darken enough for her to know he get its. You'd kill for him? For the person you love...

Neil gives her that expression—not judging, but slightly amused. "Wouldn't you?"

It knocks the air out of her, and well...she has no response to that yet. Not one she's willing to speak aloud. But there's no use now; her mind is latched onto it.

Neil doesn't give her a chance to respond before he starts walking away, trusting her to either catch up or be left behind. But then he stops, shoulders tense. It's enough to snap Katelyn out of her crisis momentarily, especially when Neil turns around with an almost sheepish look on his face. The flush is back, painting his scarred cheeks with a different red than the one behind Katelyn's eyes.

"Uh, Katelyn, do you think you could maybe keep this to yourself?" Neil says, looking behind him as if another person will materialize out of nowhere. "Like...don't tell Andrew."

Katelyn's mouth opens and closes too many times for her to count, before she settles on a majestic: "Huh?"

Neil winces, kicking the gravel at his feet. She was always under the impression that Neil and Andrew don't keep anything from each other. Neil seems to know this, and he deflates even more. "It's just...it's not that big of a secret, okay? It's embarrassing is all!"

And Katelyn can't help it: she laughs, long and borderline hysterical. It's probably mixed with relief after seeing Neil nearly kill a man, but whatever, it's a release nonetheless.

She slides up to Neil, pausing to give him time to move away, but he simply nods. She throws her arms around his shoulders, dragging him forward. She has a lot to think about, but for now...their boyfriends are probably waiting. "Don't worry, I got you."

Neil's smile is rueful. "I owe you one."

Katelyn tenses up, and is already shaking her head. No, no. She and Andrew might not be best friends yet, but she knows enough to know Neil shouldn't have to owe her anything if she wants to escape the blond's wrath. "Uh, no, Neil, really it's--"

"Believe me, Katelyn," Neil interrupts, hip checking her gently. "It's not something I give out often. Take it. Trust me."

So Katelyn doesn't question it. She's sure it'll come in handy, one of these days.

She laughs again, her charm bracelet jingling against her wrist. It reminds her of what's important. Her crisis could be worse, and there's at least one thing she knows for sure.

It's founded in love.

She'll figure it out, because the beast running free gives her no choice. Even knowing that, she sleeps peacefully later that night, bundled into Aaron's side, and the red behind her eyes waits for a new day to paint with vengeance.

--

However, she comes to find that such a passionate color doesn't wash out so easily. It's always there, whether as a sheen or in all its vibrance.

She's lying naked in her bed with Aaron staring at the smooth expanse of her abdomen; there's a satisfied ache deep and heavy in her bones, and when she stretches her joints pop loud enough to make Aaron smirk. She can vaguely remember a time where she wasn't able to feel so comfortable being completely bare in front of him. There was a pressure to be desirable, to angle herself a certain way and be covered quickly after. It was shared, mutual, their hyperawareness of one another. That time gets murkier and murkier with each passing day, and she smiles at the ticklish feeling of Aaron's fingers grazing her skin. Her roommates are out for the weekend, and she's doing that thing where she hogs all the blankets but only covers her legs. She runs hot, go figure, but the blanket is too cozy to not use. It's one of those fancy, overhyped crochet quilts—a gift from Nicky for her birthday.

It's a deep burgundy color, and she might scoff if it weren't for the thoughts in her head. This feeling here, she knows, is the purest definition of contentment. Despite her sweaty skin and dry hands, the heaviness to her limbs...

She can't imagine being without it, or having it stripped away. She wouldn't let that happen.

She suppresses the huff that threatens to escape her. Closing her eyes briefly, she turns over; her back protests, and Aaron lazily wipes the frizzy hair from her forehead. He's not even looking at her when she opens her eyes, face tired and staring into the void that is the mole on her hip. He just...he knows where she is, where her face is; Aaron touches her because he loves to, and there's no ulterior motive. Katelyn smiles brighter, because she doubts he's even aware he did it.

But the gentle touch is so familiar, nurturing in ways Aaron never received himself. But he learned them, and he gives his 110% into applying them.

And oh, Katelyn's hands fist into the deep red fabric; sometimes a feeling is so overwhelming she can't help but feel her eyes get watery, and she doesn't even know why. She's not sure it's safe to touch Aaron when she's this full of anger, choked up with wariness for the world around them.

She doesn't want to be like her, but when she finally works up the courage to brush her hand through Aaron's hair, the touch is featherlight. Soft.

Safe here, in her arms.

Her lower lip trembles, and she scolds herself for it. She's not good at holding back tears, at holding back anything. Her fingers graze the scar on Aaron's scalp, almost undetectable with his blond hair. She's memorized the feel of it though, the groove where something hit him too hard.

She pulls her hand away with a shaky breath, and Aaron's eyes finally snap up to meet her. They bore into her, his brow furrowing before widening in panic once he sees the tears in her eyes.

It's the last straw for her, he cares so much it shreds her composure. Aaron, you didn't deserve what happened. I wish I had been there, I wish I could've--

'There's no deserve, there just is.'

Andrew's words had been something she brushed off on a particularly awkward double date, back when their care ride was nothing but an impossible fantasy.

But again, she has to disagree.

What is she supposed to do about this?

For the first time, she falls into a box. She's a good girl, right? She's not supposed to think about blood and flesh, of bashing in the faces of people who hurt Aaron. Past, present, future. Doesn't matter, they'd all deserve it.

"Kate, what is it?" Aaron asks, sitting up to drape himself over her. His eyes flit over her, moving the blanket aside. She's not sure why, but it's always Aaron's first instinct to look for signs of violence. No, scratch that. She knows why. She swallows down the lump in her throat with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, and tilts Aaron's chin until he's staring right at her again. Gold eyes, flecks of green...

"I'm just...happy you're here with me," she whispers, pressing her nose to his cheek. It's stupid, but she tries to press the feeling into him. She means it. She's never meant anything so strongly. He lets her, falling back into bed and opening his arms so she can move closer. The medical ID bracelet she gifted him slides down his wrist; it had been a gag gift at first, a play on their majors and the fact Katelyn wanted them to have matching jewelry. It was a hint, a push so he'd buy something subtle instead, a ring or chain maybe...

Aaron never liked to stand out, to be flashy. But he had rolled with the gift completely, and from the moment he clipped it on, she'd only seen him remove it for Exy.

She sniffles again, grabbing his wrist and keeping her hand there, feeling his pulse. Alive, breathing.

"Aaron..." she says, before she can take the urge and bottle it back up. She looks right at him, trying to communicate as much of the heat as she can. "I wouldn't let anything happen to you, I swear."

It comes out more pathetic than she intended; it's worse than the randomness. What is she supposed to do in the face of a threat? She's never had to deal with one. She's a short college student who has never had to throw a punch, has never thought about it before. But still...but still, she'd do whatever she could; she'd bite and thrash until she couldn't anymore.

Because Aaron would do the same for her, because maybe that feeling is...normal, when it comes to loving someone. And she loves, she loves so much it apparently still has the ability to turn her world upside down.

Aaron's eyes widen, but thankfully he doesn't ask. She likes to think it's because she said it confidently enough he wouldn't dream of questioning it, but she smiles wider from the truth. Sometimes Aaron doesn't get it and doesn't know where to start; she would giggle, if she wasn't so close to sobbing. Aaron can be slow, can take a few days to catch up. But he will, and hopefully by then she can better explain it.

She's past questioning why the feeling exists at all. She's proud of it.

So instead of asking, Aaron nods, slow and sure. He trusts her, he believes her, and Katelyn lets a few tears wet Aaron's shoulder when he pulls her in tight. "Come here," he says when she hesitates, like she wants to make sure it's alright, and he accepts all of her. She melts against him, pouring every unspoken promise into the embrace. Katelyn knows Aaron can't read her mind, but it doesn't stop him from kissing her forehead, from whispering: "I know that, I know."

And Katelyn truly hopes he does.

--

The first time she and Aaron fought, it was something insignificant.

Katelyn can barely remember it now, something trivial like class schedules or a project. It seems so far away, and it’s ridiculous to care about something so silly, but they're only human. Frustrations had been high, and it had felt almost like a rite of passage.

'You aren't in a real relationship if you don't argue,' her father had told her once. She now knows that's mostly bullshit people tell themselves so they can justify their screaming matches.

Disagreements yes, bickering, disgruntlement...

Normal; so, in a way, it was a milestone, but not in the way her parents would’ve thought. The fight revealed more things to learn about each other, to make sure and be considerate of.

I don't like when you do this.

I appreciated this.

Please be more aware of this other thing.

I know this was unavoidable, but it still bothered me.

In hindsight, that's what all those little quarrels got her: experience, patience.

But in the moment, she'd just been annoyed. Aaron mumbled something under his breath when she turned away, and she'd been too petty to let it go.

Their 'fight' had been normal, until it wasn't.

Katelyn heard the clipped tone and turned around sharply, jaw clenched, and took a deliberate step toward him to tell him exactly how rude he was being.

And Aaron flinched.

Full body, he moved back a step, expecting a strike. They'd both frozen once they realized; it had been an instinctual movement, and guilt clouded Aaron's eyes a second later. But Katelyn had seen it; there had been this brief flash of terror there, but not surprise.

Like being slapped across the face would've been completely acceptable. The old normal.

Even if it had just been a second, Aaron had been afraid. Of her. Or some remnant of a ghost always lurking in the corner of Aaron's life.

She's not sure, but it didn't matter.

Katelyn remembers the irritation flooding right out of her, her body deflating as Aaron tried to offer up some kind of apology. By that point in time, Katelyn knew enough about Tilda. They'd been at the stage where confiding in each other was easy, but up until that point her rage over it had been quite shallow. It was in the past, Tilda was gone. Why linger on something painful?

She hadn't seen the effects, but here they were, staring her down.

That day, Katelyn decided she'd never despised someone more in her entire life, and probably never would again. Respect for the dead and all that...something she'd believed in before that no longer applied.

Whatever Aaron was trying to apologize for, she didn't care. She swept him up in her arms until all his weight collapsed onto her, and she let him sob into her shoulder. They were both sorry for different things, maybe things they shouldn't have been. The fight from moments before became inconsequential, and they both owned up to their faults in it.

They'd even laughed through their tears, nonsense about how they'd both just retake the class, or how the professor sucked anyways. Katelyn cried through the night, and probably looked unrecognizable in the morning with her puffy eyes and gnawed lip.

Aaron had helped put spoons in the freezer to help the swelling go down, probably the sloppiest pre-med care he'd ever done, because they had no ice packs.

And naturally, they'd talked about the rest. They exhausted the topic until Katelyn made sure Aaron knew...

"I would never hurt you," she whispered, partly to herself. A promise, an oath.

"I know you wouldn't."

Her eyes were ablaze when she looked at him again. "You never deserved to be hurt."

That one hadn't gotten her a response, but she kept repeating it. She'd keep repeating it.

The night had passed, fading into the background of anniversaries, finals, and sports.

But she never forgot. It had lurked in her, adding to the beast which she'd been confronting the past few days.

It's actually Andrew who calls it back to the forefront of her mind.

They're in the dorm, the four of them, and she's gone through at least two boxes of Raisinets (which Andrew had called a sin) and a liter of soda. The television is blaring with sounds of gunfire and distorted radio effects, which none of the boys seem to mind.

She's watched Aaron play (and fail) at this game so many times over the past few years, that it no longer bothers her. Her eyes drift over the room, fondly lingering over where Aaron is trying to not pull his hair out while he’s teaching Neil how to play.

Neil is holding the controller wrong, but she's pretty sure he's doing it on purpose, and she stifles a giggle into her soda cup.

And then...there's Andrew. He's sitting against the far wall, a watchful eye to the end. He tilts his head every now and again as Neil smirks and scowls, and Katelyn doesn't try to parse those thoughts. She's pretty sure either too much goes on in Andrew's head or nothing at all, but either way Neil ends up being a point of clarity.

He's not doing anything attention-grabbing, but Andrew rarely is. But the memory guided Katelyn's attention to him, to the curl of his hands. It's not that she's afraid to approach him for the old reasons; she does it on occasion, though she's better with the rules now. It's only necessary to talk to Andrew when she has something to say, something that matters.

This...definitely mattered.

And the thing is, she's sure he'll agree. He'll at least lift his head. He had nodded at her when she walked into their dorm, a more common occurrence now that still makes Aaron falter each time. It still feels like a beginning, but it feels nice all the same.

Andrew gets up, footsteps loud as he walks past where Neil is sitting in one of the beanbag chairs. His hand grazes the back of Neil's neck while the other opens the soda next to him, pushing it into Neil's hands in place of the controller. It's such a familiar dance that neither of them linger on it. Neil's glare at Aaron doesn't falter even as Andrew walks out of the room for a smoke break.

Katelyn stares after him, lingering on Andrew's back as he leans against the outside railing. It's been awhile since she's seen Andrew truly tense; he looks how he feels for once. Calm, in the moment. Katelyn wonders if it's a feeling he takes for granted, or one he refuses to acknowledge. Either way, it just makes her more hesitant to approach him.

She doesn't want to break this peace they both have, here with their people on a cool summer night.

But if she doesn't say it...no. She's not sure it's avoidable at this point. It pushes on her vocal chords and claws at her pressed lips, prying them apart. Katelyn thinks of Aaron next to her in bed, or in her arms, safe and sound. She realizes she's wanted to say this for a long time.

Katelyn stands quietly, though she doesn't have to. Aaron and Neil are glued to the game, and any sound she makes is drowned out by explosions and gunfire.

"Josten, you can't be this much of an idiot," Aaron says, more agonized than annoyed at this point. He jabs his fingers over his own controller, like he can take it out on the plastic instead of Neil's brain.

"Oh yeah? Bet," Neil answers, because at least he's self-aware. "And what the hell? I did the combo right that time."

"No you didn't! You just keep smashing the buttons in a random order!" Aaron mimics it, and in true form, is killed on screen. "Shit. You're destroying my rankings."

"Don't blame me because you suck at this."

Neil is correct. Aaron has never successfully beaten either Andrew or Nicky. Once, while drunk, he cried about it.

"I do not," Aaron grumbles, and he starts the next round. "Here. Watch."

Katelyn doesn't wait to hear Neil's snippy response; her smile fades as she steps out onto the balcony, the cool air hitting her flushed cheeks. She laughs at herself, nothing more than a light huff; to think part of her is actually fired up over this, a little proud. Like it's about time.

She's sure she should feel ashamed of that, ugly. But she doesn't.

The sound makes Andrew whip his head around, the softness stripped away to reveal sharp edges, pulling her apart. The hand holding Andrew's cigarette pauses in mid-air, and he waits, because why would Andrew speak first?

Katelyn smiles wryly before she hardens, grip so tight on the door column that the old paint chips. She's learned there's no reason to lead in with anything when it comes to Andrew; he doesn't care about niceties, or fronts.

She only has one thing to say, and she's going to say it regardless of whether or not she gets a response. She turns to check on Aaron one last time, and he's oblivious. As he should be, for this.

That's Katelyn's only source of guilt. But she knows, maybe as well as Andrew, that Aaron is not ready to hear this. He probably never will be.

Katelyn takes one step forward, right where Andrew's boundary ends, and makes sure there's zero room for him to doubt her.

"I'm glad you killed her."

It comes out a lot more serious than she thought; it was what she was going for, but she expected some quiver to her tone, a weakness.

There is none. Her voice is devoid of any regret, any sympathy, and that's everything she ever wanted. That's what Tilda deserved, at the bare minimum.

And if it's all Katelyn can give, she'll do it. She'll thank the person who did whatever he could.

She clasps a hand over her mouth when she realizes she's smiling, an inkling of that coldness bleeding through, but it's too late.

Andrew saw.

She guesses that's fair though; she tries to wipe the smile away but it sticks, it pulls open her lips like rusted gates, releasing those words she craved. Andrew lowers his cigarette as he takes this in, and Katelyn's not sure what he finds.

She hopes it's something good.

Katelyn doesn't wait for Andrew to respond before she walks back into the dorm, nothing more to say. She feels Andrew's gaze on her back, and she trusts it. When had that happened?

When had she stopped expecting a threat? When had she realized there was no need to flinch?

The warmth fills her to the brim. She climbs into Aaron's chair as he mopes over his loss, nuzzling his cheek. His hand finds hers like a moth to the flame before he stands up to switch the game to Mario Party so they can all play. Her smile from before morphs into something full and colorful. Bright.

She claps excitedly, rummaging through the tangled basket below the entertainment system for her controller. She's already challenging and throwing jabs at Neil, who is her biggest rival in this game. The twins always lose.

She's vaguely aware of Neil calling Andrew back into the room, but then there's Andrew's hand in front of her face, untangling the chord for her. She gasps as he frees the pink controller from its confines, dangling it in front of her.

She reaches for it on instinct, but hesitates when she glances up at him. She's...in his bubble. It's only for a moment, but it closes up her throat.

"Well?" He says when she freezes, unmoving for too long. Katelyn notices, with no shortage of joy, that Andrew's shoulders are still relaxed. He's comfortable. Accepting.

She blinks away the shock behind her eyes and grips the controller, smiling up at him. The moment ends in an instant, Andrew's bored expression already focused elsewhere. He turns away from her as he plops down by Neil, and she avoids the smug smile Neil sends her.

Whether it's due to the game or his own weird intuition, Katelyn doesn't know.

All she knows in that moment is that she's going to smoke them all.

Katelyn jumps up, and the lightness in her heart threatens to steer her into the ceiling. She takes her place beside Aaron and lets the shit talking begin.

--

Granted, there parts of Katelyn that are still naive. It comes with the territory, with pretty cookie cutter houses and neighborhood watch meetings.

See, as much as she was ready to acknowledge her protectiveness, she never thought she'd have to resort to actual violence...ever. She assumed those times were behind them, that life would be boring and wonderful from here on out.

Most things should seem boring anyways, after everything they’ve been through.

You've always have to be the optimist.

What she didn't know was just how prepared her mind was for reality, lying in wait behind the scope of her conscious thought. And come to think of it, that was naive of her too, to think feelings take a vacation just because you accept them.

Her pom-poms hit the floor with a clatter as she jumps up, high as she can. She's cheering, trying to be heard over the rest of her squad while her coach tries to calm them down. It never works.

Katelyn is taking off from the cheer section despite the teasing from the other girls, but they should be used to this by now.

She has a flair for the dramatic, and she's on the court soon after the final buzzer rings. The score is in the Foxes' favor tonight, promising an excessive party later on. She wonders if she can convince the girls to give her the room for a few hours...

The crowd roars behind her as she and the rest of the cheerleaders rush onto the court, but her excitement is her own and twice as powerful.

It's tradition now for her to seek Aaron out, to leap into his arms after every game won. Sue her, she's cheesy like that. And after being deprived of it for so long...she's gotten greedy. Andrew barely bats an eye anymore, comically side stepping them.

She's confused though, because normally they meet halfway. She runs to center court and can't see Aaron anywhere, and her confusion only doubles when she sees a mass of people forming up ahead.

There's a sizable crowd around where the Foxes' huddle should be, a mix of referees and substitute players, and she pushes through them to get a better look. She doesn't realize her body is already buzzing, alive with nervous energy and dread. It knows something she hasn't quite figured out yet.

That's why she's not just nudging people out of the way, she's shoving them, elbowing them as the yelling gets louder. It's normally her personality that bulldozes, but today it's every last inch of her.

Her blood feels like it ignites. Her body is thrown into fight or flight mode, and fight is definitely preferred.

It happens fast.

Aaron has never let his height deter him, and as neutral as he can be in most situations, he's got a short fuse at times and a fighting spirit to match. His anger is explosive. It happens in short bursts, but can raze fields in its wake. It gets him into a lot of trouble; he can say things he doesn't mean or things he absolutely means, which are typically worse. Today it's the latter.

Aaron is face to face with a player from the other team, and the words roar in Katelyn's ears. They're murky and muddled, like her brain has deemed the meaning and context irrelevant. All she needs to know is they're unkind, provoking. The backliner towers over Aaron, trading his own insults. 'Murderer' and 'inbred' and a slew of other original things hit Aaron point blank, but he's heard it all before. Whatever Aaron says in return must be cutting, and while Katelyn can't differentiate the words from curses, she knows they land.

Her heart jumps to her throat and the crowd gets louder around her; it's static in nature, too much at once, and everything in her stands on end. Poised to strike.

She doesn't care what they're arguing about, or who she's with, or what she's doing. She just sees the backliner's fist fly back, half the size of Aaron's head, and she simply reacts. She almost wants to blame the beast, that dark corner of her mind, for what happens next.

But it's all her, and it's always been all her.

Andrew moves out of the corner of her eye, sensing the same violent outcome. Their deal might be over, but the promise isn't. Andrew's instinct to protect his own will always be there.

But for once, Katelyn is faster.

Nicky is standing nearby, or maybe she ran to him...she's not sure, and it doesn't matter. Her blood is rushing into her ears and her heartbeat has drowned out the crowd. She wrenches the racquet from Nicky's hands before he even sees her.

There's no chance of her comprehending it, of stopping, so she doesn't. She brings the racquet back in the fiercest swing she can manage given her noodle arms, and punches the air out of the bastard's lungs with it. It hits him right in the stomach, and Katelyn makes sure not to break anything.

Again, she's good at anatomy.

It's a painful, underhanded hit, and she hopes it leaves a bruise. Nicky's racquet creaks a bit from the force of it, but it did its job well. Katelyn watches with a wicked satisfaction as the guy goes down with a groan, clutching his gut.

There's still anger in his eyes, a bitterness, but it pales in comparison to her own.

And it's in that moment she thinks she understands Neil best. 'I'm the scary one.'

Yes, yes, Katelyn thinks that's more than appropriate. She didn't understand then that it was simply an observation based on a feeling. It's the same feeling she's feeling now, and she supposes she has changed quite a lot from even that initial conversation.

Because she doesn't dwell on the feeling, or worry about what ugly things it says about her. It just is, and it's in the name of the emotion she loves so much. The person she loves so much.

So, her arm goes back with less force this time, less power, but it still goes back. Ready to deal another blow, ready to fight as much as she needs to if it means protecting Aaron.

It's not quite bloodlust, but it would get her the same result to call it that, so oh well.

She doesn't get the chance to find out how far she's willing to go; she's barely begun to swing forward when someone grabs the handle of the racquet, stopping her cold. She gasps then, realizing what's she doing, and again there's no regret. There is concern for the witnesses, though.

Heat rushes to her face as her eyes dart around, waiting for the vilification that's sure to come. But no. Everyone's eyes are glued to the groaning mess on the floor. Baby.

Katelyn takes a moment to catch her breath and get her shit together, because she can't believe she was that ready to maim someone in the middle of their stadium, and then turns to see the person who did notice.

Of course it's Neil. Of course.

His face is trying very hard to remain the default, completely blank, but Katelyn catches the edge of amusement playing at his lips. He'd know better than anyone, right? How close she'd come to going full apeshit, and she's sure she'll never hear the end of it. As she realizes that, Neil's smile blooms, and she tenses. Oh, shut up. Neil huffs a laugh, yanking the racquet from her hands. "I'll take that, thanks."

Katelyn tries to glare, but she can't help but smile all the same.

"Katelyn..." a voice says off to her side, and she turns to find Aaron paused midstep, worry battling with something else entirely on his face. She reaches for his hand, curling tight, and the blush on his face intensifies until it's wrapped around his ears and choking him by the neck. "Uh...you...wow."

Katelyn smirks.

Ah. Interesting. She could definitely get used to this.

"Ha," Andrew deadpans from behind Aaron, and wow, Katelyn doesn't think she's ever seen him jump so high.

"Y-you just shut up."

Katelyn's giggle is interrupted by another groan a few feet away, and the backliner glares at her with what's supposed to be pure contempt. Somehow, she's not fazed. Maybe it's the fact he's tried to get up twice now to no avail. Aaron scowls down at him, hand tight in Katelyn's, and she's never felt safer.

"Fucking bit--"

Neil leans down to his eye level in an instant, oddly reminiscent of the first time. The ire in his blue eyes is extinguished though, replaced with lazy satisfaction. Katelyn's pride in herself swells. "Hey, want me to pick up where she left off?" Neil asks, spinning the racquet in his hand. "I hit a lot harder than she does."

Katelyn really laughs then, when the backliner's face pales and Aaron smirks. Wymack starts saying something about 'restraint' and 'discipline' in Neil's face, but it hardly makes a difference.

She would've kept going. That's on her, and she's better for it. She knows she won't hesitate, that what lies dormant in her is the same as what thrashes daily inside most of the Foxes. That's enough for her, and she returns all their smiles as they pat her on the back.

It's a backwards congratulations, but the Foxes have never looked down on a protective impulse, no matter how small or rare. Even Wymack gives her a long look before shaking his head. '"These kids...I swear."

She will never be like the rest of them, not in full, but what drives her is the same. She knows that deep down, and doesn't let it scare her. Instead she leans into Aaron, kissing his cheek to congratulate him on his good game, his skin still hot as the school blacktop.

The coaches and referees clear the field, and Katelyn wishes she could bottle this lightness, this certainty.

Andrew nods at her as she passes, imperceptible, and Neil is beaming next to him. Neil shares a look of understanding with her, smugness palpable. 'Told ya so.'

Katelyn only gets a little satisfaction at the way Neil avoids Andrew's gaze a second later. Their dance is amusing, natural. Neil sidesteps to hide his face, and Andrew blocks his path, corralling him effectively.

Neil huffs in Andrew's face, all too used to it.

The words come back to the front of Katelyn's mind from that day. Her own voice echoes: you'd kill?

"Neil," she calls after him, a touch too cheerful, and he turns lazily. Like he expects it. She'll never say she understands Neil. It's frankly not possible to know how much he's aware of and how much goes completely over his head. In this case, she knows he'll hear and comprehend everything.

"I would," she says, and ignores the confused look the twins exchange. Neil's smile sharpens, a mirror of her own, before he's dragging Andrew to the locker room. Hmm. Katelyn wonders if Neil would have a good cackle. She'll have to ask.

"I'm not ever going to know what that was about, am I?" Aaron asks, but he's less pouty about it than normal. He's accepted their weird friendships, the uniquely cultivated bonds between each of them. Mostly.

He smiles at her as she leans down, stealing a kiss. "Definitely not."

She giggles when he dips her, indulging her dramatic side, and the sound bounces off the stadium walls.

--

++bonus

Neil assumes this is his punishment, though Andrew doesn't explicitly say it is.

The mall is slow on the following Tuesday afternoon, which is specifically why they always schedule their mall excursions (Andrew refuses to call them dates) during the week.

He's glad, because most of the time it means there’s not a lot of people shopping, which means more stolen kisses for him. It's also good for times like this, so people don't have to see his suffering.

Neil watches with dread as Andrew opens the blue and white Cinnabon box, revealing the gooey, overly iced monstrosity inside. Neil feels his taste buds protest already as he watches Andrew cut off a particularly big chunk.

Neil should've known something was off when Andrew didn't even complain once about ordering Neil a large smoothie.

Betrayed.

Gently, too gently for how awful this punishment is, Andrew cups Neil's chin with his hand, pressing down just enough to make his cheeks puff up. His face is a blank void, out of the ordinary these days when it's just the two of them, and Neil sighs internally. There really is no getting out of this. Andrew quirks a brow, holding the nauseating dessert up to Neil's mouth. "Say ‘ah.’"

Neil glares, but does so begrudgingly. If it's something Andrew knows he truly hates, he wouldn't even offer it, but Neil's never actually had one of these things before. The overabundance of cinnamon leaves him grimacing as he chews, and Andrew's expression still gives nothing away. Not even the signature 'you're so dramatic' tilt of his head. Neil knows the taste is enough to stain for at least twenty minutes, and the urge to wash it down with his strawberry smoothie is fierce.

But he waits, because he doubts it's over.

Andrew watches him swallow pitifully before turning back to the rest of the cinnamon roll, cutting himself a piece and then dousing it in the extra icing he paid for.

Neil's feelings are unconditional, truly.

When he's done consuming the sinful piece of overly fluffy sugar, Neil tracks the leftover icing on Andrew's lips. He's weak, he'll admit, but he knows kissing Andrew would be twice as sweet as the dessert itself.

And ah, that's when it all makes sense.

Andrew sets his fork and knife down very deliberately before spinning to face Neil, tilting his head in the closest thing to innocent Andrew can manage. "Kiss me?"

Neil nearly whimpers. It's incredibly unfair. Andrew rarely asks for kisses anymore—neither of them do. So now it's just endearing as hell, and Andrew never phrases it like that.

And well, Neil always wants to kiss Andrew, no matter how sugary the consequences. He nods excitedly, scooting forward on the bench. It gets him a crack in the mask finally, as Andrew's gaze softens, warm and...wow.

"Stop it," Andrew mumbles, and then his lips are on Neil's. Neil sighs into it, latching onto Andrew's sleeves when he feels him start to pull away. He typically understands short kisses when they're in public, but today it feels especially petty, so he swipes his tongue to catch some of the icing at the corner of Andrew's mouth.

But when Andrew is set on something, he's set. He pulls away, and Neil huffs, grabbing his smoothie with impressive petulancy.

"None of that, rabbit," Andrew says, digging back in. Even with his particular methods of cutting up his food, he'll most likely demolish the dessert in the next two minutes. "You know what you did."

And at that, Neil can't help but smirk. He feigns innocence as best he can as he sips on his smoothie, chewing on the straw to suppress the joy. He gets the memory of wind whistling through racquet strings, the image of the backliner on his ass and the feral look in Katelyn's eyes.

He's proud, but really, how is any of that his fault?

"I haven't done anything," he replies as Andrew chucks the box into the nearest trash can. "If my life were a factory, it would say at least fifty days have passed since the last accident."

Andrew pauses midstep, unamused.

Neil holds out his hand expectantly, ready to be led through the mall wherever Andrew sees fit. They have a system, though Andrew refuses to admit it.

They start off with Neil's stores simply because Andrew wants to get them over with, but he doesn't rush Neil as he browses the two athletic stores and rants about the minuscule differences in sneakers. Then they stop for sushi, and Andrew will attempt in vain to teach Neil to use chopsticks.

Neil might mess up more on purpose, just so Andrew has to touch his hands more.

Andrew's stores are more for dressing up Neil than Andrew buying anything for himself, though he'll occasionally indulge in buying a new watch or jacket. Especially if Neil picks them out and tells him how good they'd look.

It's a skill Neil has picked up happily, and participates in often. It's not like they're lies, because Andrew always looks good to him.

Mostly, though, he watches his boyfriend browse racks of clothes, holding up shirts and accessories to Neil's body until he's narrowed it down.

It's not hard for Neil to coax him into the dressing room with him after that.

After both forms of dessert, the last stop is the one that perplexes Neil to this day. Despite the confusion, he follows Andrew hand in hand to the overly glitzed up monstrosity that is Claire's.

It's an experience.

It's usually empty apart from one poor soul getting their ears pierced and a few teenagers picking out matching necklaces, but no one is ever phased when Andrew and Neil walk in. They look the opposite of people who should and would shop here, but Claire's is a lawless place with no rules and no judgement.

Neil once joked about Andrew writing a paper on it, since he's fairly certain time is a construct in this place. According to Andrew, however, they have the widest selection of the kind of earrings Andrew likes on Neil: the dangly ones. Perfect for Eden's. They're so cheap Andrew doesn't let him wear them any other time, or for more than a few weekends, but it just means they have to come back often to get new ones.

They should have a membership, but that's the line Andrew won't cross.

Today, Andrew is eyeing a pair with fake gems, and he holds it up to Neil's ear, squeezing his earlobe as he debates. Meanwhile, Neil's eyes float over the nearby costume merchandise and mood-themed jewelry.

There's a pair of chokers that have 'best friends' charms hanging from them, and Neil squints. It's something so cheery and colorful, he's sure Katelyn would be all over it. Probably Matt too.

But the reminder of Katelyn has Neil wincing before he can stop himself.

Andrew follows his gaze to the necklaces, throwing them in the basket a moment later without saying anything. Neil thinks that's the end of it when Andrew moves them to the next display of earrings, but of course it's not.

Andrew doesn't give up digging for answers when it comes to Neil, not that Neil fights him much anymore. It's just...with this...

Ugh.

Andrew's words tell him they're on the same page.

"You're a terrible influence," Andrew voices, throwing in a few more pairs. There's a sale today.

Neil shrugs. He has to play it cool, but it's almost funny how they've come to this discussion. Andrew isn't aware of Neil's moment behind the gym, pipe pressed to some asshole's throat, but he can still read through Neil enough to know he must've done something.

So, Neil sighs, and doesn't bother denying it.

"I'm not responsible for what other people do," he reiterates, holding up a pair of black rings. It's unusual for anything in this place to match Andrew's aesthetic, so Neil can't pass it up. He tosses it into the basket.

"Oh, captain who goes down with the ship," Andrew chides, tilting Neil's chin just so. There's a warmth in Andrew's eyes regardless of his words, and Neil stuffs his hands in his hoodie to keep from leaning forward. "Your penchant for leadership means people follow you anyways, even if your decisions are stupid."

Andrew lets go of him to assess his haul, but Neil's not done making his case.

"I'm not Katelyn's leader." Far from it. He knows Katelyn and Andrew generally get along better now, but Andrew can still be under the impression that Katelyn isn’t a force in her own way. No...Neil didn't inspire shit. If anything, Katelyn had...an awakening of sorts.

Neil brings a hand up to cover his smug smile. Ah, it's always so satisfying when people get what they deserve. He can only hope Katelyn doesn’t get addicted to the feeling.

He doubts it, though. Her goals are only ever to protect Aaron. Outside of that she's harmless, unless you count the gossip she hoards.

So what? He made Katelyn realize going for the throat is all too necessary when it comes to the people they hold dear. He stopped her before it could go further, and that should've been her lesson to not lose herself in the future.

Past that, Neil isn't responsible.

"Do you have fun, missing the point all the time?" Andrew asks, backing Neil against one of the columns in the store. Neil is quite familiar with this spot, because it means kisses, and he's a simple man nowadays.

He smirks, reaching over to grab one of the headbands hanging from the metal hooks. This one has animal ears on it, and he plops it on, catching the way Andrew's face twitches.

"If it gets you to talk to me like that, a little."

Andrew rips off the ears so fast Neil gasps, and an employee glares at the projectile when it lands in the far corner. Neil snorts, pulling Andrew completely behind the column with him. It's his favorite part of the store, because it faces an empty wall. They're hidden.

"You're insufferable," Andrew chides, but doesn't move away. Neil's content, knowing his warmth and weight has become a comfort.

That's why...that's why he really doesn't feel bad. He'd protect Andrew with everything he had, and Andrew would do the same for him. Through blood and any measure of brutality.

Neil is not naive. His life is a lot different now, and he'll try as hard as he can to make sure things are more peaceful from here on. It's unrealistic in some cases; both of them will always be plagued by nightmares, a mix of paranoia and too many boundaries. But...but the past is so much easier to navigate when the present is peaceful.

Life is not set in stone, and neither is this peace. It's possible there will be more fights, more war. And they'll both be ready, because there's no other choice where one another is concerned.

Even if Andrew won't say it, Neil knows it with bone deep certainty.

And now Katelyn will be prepared too. Neil can't possibly feel an inch of regret for causing that.

Neil sighs when Andrew's hand grips the back of his neck, grazing Neil's ear on the way there, the ghost of a touch.

Come to think of it, that employee sees them here every week...she most certainly knows what they're doing behind this column. Neil sighs a laugh, drowsy all of a sudden. He wants to nap when they get home, Andrew pressed against him. Safe.

"Yes, that's true, I'm pretty bad," Neil whispers, hand resting on Andrew's shoulder. "Don't act like you're not relieved, though."

Andrew tilts his head, pausing just before stealing a kiss.

"Elaborate."

"You've been demoted," Neil says with a smirk, chasing Andrew's lips when he moves back. It's the one direction he runs to consistently now. "Aaron has someone else to protect him."

There's a moment Andrew pauses, letting the words wash over him. It would not have been possible, Neil thinks, even a year ago. But Katelyn isn't just a fixture Andrew ignores now, she's permanent, present.

Andrew's tiny laugh sends a shiver down Neil's spine. "Was that the plan all along, then?"

Neil squints, confused, and Andrew's smile is small but there, something that's becoming increasingly common.

Andrew shrugs, a mocking mirror of Neil's default response. Despite this, he finally crowds Neil in, and he can feel the light press of Andrew's lips sticking to his. Andrew drops the basket when Neil hums in question, the moment private and sealed up just for them. "Now I can put all my efforts towards you," Andrew breathes into Neil's mouth, like a binding spell before the kiss seals them, and it wasn't the plan but...

Neil will gladly take it.

#aftg #all for the game #andreil #kateaaron

[mediaeval-muse]

Book Review

These Violent Delights. By Chloe Gong. New York: Margaret K. McElderry Books, 2020.

Rating: 3/5 stars

Genre: historical fiction

Part of a Series? Yes, These Violent Delights #1

Summary: The year is 1926, and Shanghai hums to the tune of debauchery. A blood feud between two gangs runs the streets red, leaving the city helpless in the grip of chaos. At the heart of it all is eighteen-year-old Juliette Cai, a former flapper who has returned to assume her role as the proud heir of the Scarlet Gang—a network of criminals far above the law. Their only rivals in power are the White Flowers, who have fought the Scarlets for generations. And behind every move is their heir, Roma Montagov, Juliette’s first love…and first betrayal. But when gangsters on both sides show signs of instability culminating in clawing their own throats out, the people start to whisper. Of a contagion, a madness. Of a monster in the shadows. As the deaths stack up, Juliette and Roma must set their guns—and grudges—aside and work together, for if they can’t stop this mayhem, then there will be no city left for either to rule. Perfect for fans of The Last Magician and Descendant of the Crane, this heart-stopping debut is an imaginative Romeo and Juliet retelling set in 1920s Shanghai, with rival gangs and a monster in the depths of the Huangpu River.

***Full review under the cut.***

Content/Trigger Warnings: violence, blood, gore

Overview: I love the premise of this book. A Romeo and Juliet retelling? Set in 1920s Shanghai? Sign me up! There was so much to love about These Violent Delights: the setting, the characters, the prose, the complexity of the social and political situation... so why didn’t I rate this book higher? Well, despite all the things I loved, I didn’t love the pacing and the plot. In my opinion, Gong had the tendency to kill a lot of suspense and over-explain things, which not only made the main plot feel slow, but I felt like I was being told a lot of things about characters instead of shown. Thus, it was hard for me personally to absorb the significance of things and become emotionally invested. Overall, though, These Violent Delights is an ambitious book, and I look forward to reading the sequel.

Writing: From the first page of the prologue, I was hooked on Gong’s way of describing the look and feel of Shanghai. I love the way she describes settings, using vivid imagery and almost poetic phrases to evoke feelings of seediness and poverty. Gong ensures that her prose doesn’t get too purple, however, so I think she overall strikes a nice balance between being literary and being accessible.

I do, however, think that Gong had the tendency to tell rather than show when it came to descriptions of the characters’ backstories, motivations, or other things, such as the bloodfeud between the gangs. We are told, for example, that there is a bloodfeud, and we get scenes where gang members bristle at the sight of one another, but we don’t really have any scenes where the bloodfeud serves as a major antagonist or threatens characters in a real, tangible way. Juliette’s and Roma’s pasts also don’t feel very laden with pathos, and I got the impression that we were supposed to feel sympathetic without really seeing how their pasts continue to affect them in the present. For example, we’re told that Roma’s mother was killed by Scarlets, but Roma barely ever thinks about her, doesn’t have any longing for her, etc. Perhaps some flashbacks would have helped make these pasts feel more impactful, or maybe a change in the way characters think and act, but as it stands, I didn’t feel like much of the violence was really “present,” so to speak, because everyone who dies isn’t really given a real presence in the novel.

I also think Gong had the tendency to interrupt the flow of her story by inserting unneeded descriptions or background information at inopportune moments. For example, when Roma and Juliette are running from the scene of a crime at one point, they agree to meet up at a restaurant nearby, and Gong proceeds to give us a paragraph on what that restaurant is like. It has no real significance to the action - the characters don’t really spend a lot of time there, and it never comes up again. As a result, we get some descriptive or expositional passages in the middle of a scene, which I think really slows down the book’s pace and removes a sense of urgency. In other words, form didn’t match function in places where it really mattered.

Lastly, I think Gong over-wrote some of her passages to the extent that the reader was being told things that could have been inferred. We would read, for example, passages where Gong would tell us why a character was speaking quietly or why a character was acting in a certain way, and some of those things would be obvious from context. I think Gong could have benefitted from pulling back a little bit and letting readers piece together some things on their own.

Plot: This book mainly follows Roma and Juliette, to heirs to Shanghai’s two most notorious gangs, as they track down a monster which has been causing a mysterious madness to sweep across the city. In my opinion, this madness/monster plot was a little weak - not only did I feel like the mystery itself wasn’t very clever, but I didn’t get the sense that the madness was truly a threat. As I mentioned above, violence doesn’t really have a tangible impact on our named characters - the gangs aren’t shown to suffer much from the impact on their operations (Juliette doesn’t have to make do with less income, for example, and she doesn’t seem all that connected to the common resident of Shanghai to be altruistic) and even if we just accept that Roma and Juliette want to solve the mystery to prove something to their fathers, I didn’t feel like I cared enough about their statuses in the gang to want them to succeed or fail. To solve this problem, I think I would have liked to see more stakes; if they fail, would the gangs be entrusted to more violent people who would do more harm than good? If they fail, would they be chased out of town or sent away? Something a bit more urgent, I think, to show us that. Granted, wanting to impress their fathers is a good motivation, but I wanted more urgency.

Characters: Juliette, our primary heroine, is perhaps the most well-developed character in this book. She’s the heir to the most powerful gang in Shanghai, but despite the nominal security of her title, she has to prove herself worthy because A.) she’s a woman, and B.) she spent a lot of time in America, which makes her too Western for her people’s standards, yet too Chinese for the Europeans living in the city. She’s also hot-blooded and impulsive, which gets her into some trouble (a flaw that I think Gong wrote well, as it felt like Juliette was being ruthless out of some sense of insecurity). I really enjoyed her as a character, and I think Gong wrote her well.

Roma, our primary hero and Juliette’s love interest, is somewhat less interesting. He has some qualities that seem good on paper: he’s an expert with a firearm and isn’t enthusiastic about violence. He also cares deeply for his sister and has a complicated relationship with his father. However, he didn’t have the same level of complexity as Juliette. He didn’t have any convictions about why he and his gang deserved to be in Shanghai, nor did his family’s history with the Bolsheviks seem to influence the way he responded to the communist uprising. I wanted a little more from him, and I wanted to be shown why Juliette was in love with him (other than their history and, supposedly, Roma’s ability to “really see” her).

Supporting characters were hit or miss. I really liked Rosalind and Kathleen, and I loved the dynamics they brought to the story. As sisters and cousins to Juliette, they have a complicated relationship with the Scarlet Gang - they’re family, but not family enough to have true power or protection. I liked that the sisters responded differently to this situation; Kathleen seems more desperate to do whatever Juliette asks, while Rosalind feels that people like her have to deal with all the fallout of the Cai’s actions. Benedikt and Marshall, Roma’s companions, also had a nice dynamic; Marshall is somewhat outgoing while Benedikt was reserved, and the two brought out new behaviors in the other that made me think they have a budding m/m romance. However, I didn’t really understand their motivations enough to feel invested in their stories. They felt more like sidekicks than characters in their own right - they wandered around Shanghai doing errands for their gang, but didn’t really seem integral in ways other than that.

Antagonists were somewhat bland, in my opinion. Tyler, a hot-headed Cai who wants to be the heir instead of Juliette, weaves in and out at convenient moments, inserting tension at random moments that didn’t seem to build on one another. I would have liked a more sustained storyline where he is constantly interfering and competing with Juliette, perhaps to raise the stakes. For example, if he had also been working to track down the monster, and the two had had more confrontations about their progress along the way, Juliette’s success might be a little more urgent. Dmitri, another hot-headed wannabe heir on the White Flower side, is barely present and doesn’t feel like a threat. I would have liked to see the same thing be done with him: have him investigating the mystery, but in a way that opposes how Roma does things (perhaps a way that exacerbates the blood feud). Even the people directly involved with the monster plot seemed to be stock characters, and I wasn’t entirely convinced that they were formidable opponents for our protagonists.

Romance: For a Romeo and Juliet retelling, I was surprised that the romance (or the relationship, at the very least) wasn’t more of a focus in this book. I guess if the book hadn’t been marketed that way, my thoughts might be different, but then again, many of the names are deliberately crafted to resemble the names in Shakespeare’s play. Even so, I think I liked that the romance didn’t take center stage all the time, as it allowed Gong to give us a retelling that wasn’t just the same plot points as the original play.

However, I definitely would have liked more tension or angst in the scenes when Roma and Juliette were together. We’re told (rather than shown) that the two have a complicated history, but when they’re working together, there’s no real chemistry that convinced me that the two still had feelings for one another. Juliette tells us in her POV that Roma sees her and understands her, but other than that, I didn’t get the sense that there was any passion or emotional intimacy between the two - just history. I would have liked to see more conflicted emotions in the places when Juliette or Roma are forced to interact so that there is a stronger buildup to the more intense emotions later in the book. But as it stands, the revival of their romantic feelings felt rather sudden, and I didn’t quite understand why the two were in love.

Themes: One major thing that I think Gong did really well was convey her passion about the state of Shanghai during the time period, especially when talking about politics and colonialism. Gong would have her characters meditate on the conflict between nationalists and communists, as well as the presence of Westerners and other foreigners who don’t bother to respect or engage with Chinese culture (or language). For example, Juliette often remarked upon how she felt like a stranger in her own country, and a lot of the ways she had to navigate racism and sexism reflected that. In my opinion, these themes brought out the best in Gong’s writing, as I could tell that she was invested in them and had a lot to say.

TL;DR: These Violent Delights has an intriguing premise and a well-developed heroine, and Gong is at her best when writing about these things while pushing back against colonialism in 20th century Shanghai. However, I ultimately didn’t feel like I could get emotionally invested in the gang dynamics, the romance, or the mystery itself, mainly because of the writing style and the lack of explicit stakes.

#book reviews

[grigori77]

Summer 2020′s Movies - My Top Ten Favourite Films (Part 2)

10.  BODY CAM – in the face of the current pandemic, viral outbreak cinema has become worryingly prescient lately, but as COVID led to civil unrest there were a couple of films in this summer that REALLY seemed to me to put their finger on the pulse of another particularly shitty zeitgeist.  Admittedly this one highlights a problem that’s been around for a good while, but it came along at just the right time to gain particularly strong resonance, filtering its message into the most reliable form of allegorical social commentary – horror.  The vengeful ghost trope has become pretty familiar over the past decade or so, but by marrying it with the corrupt cop thriller veteran horror screenwriter Nicholas McCarthy (The Pact) has given it a nice fresh spin, and the end result was, for me, a real winner.  Mary J. Blige plays troubled LAPD cop Renee Lomito-Smith, back on the beat after an extended hiatus following a particularly harrowing incident, just as fellow officers from her own precinct begin to die violent deaths under mysterious circumstances, and the only clues are weird, haunting camera footage that only Renee and her new partner, rookie Danny Holledge (Paper Towns and Death Note’s Natt Wolff), manage to see before it inexplicable wipes itself.  Something supernatural is stalking the City of Angels at night, and it’s got a serious grudge against local cops as the increasingly disturbing investigation slowly brings an act of horrific police brutality to light, until Renee no longer knows who in her department she can trust.  This is one of the most insidious scare-fests I’ve enjoyed so far this year, sophomore director Malik Vitthal (Imperial Dreams) weaving an effective atmosphere of pregnant dread and wire-taut suspense while delivering some impressively hair-raising shocks (the stunning minimart sequence is the film’s undeniable highlight), while the ghostly threat is cleverly thought-out and skilfully brought to “life”.  Blige delivers another top-drawer performance, giving Renee a winning combination of wounded fragility and steely resolve that makes for a particularly compelling hero, while Wolff invests Danny with skittish uncertainty and vulnerability in one of his strongest performances to date, and Dexter star David Zayas brings interesting moral complexity to the role of their put-upon superior, Sergeant Kesper.  In these times of heightened social awareness, when the police’s star has become particularly tarnished as unnecessary force, racial profiling and cover-ups have become major hot-button topics, the power and relevance of this particular slice of horror cinema cannot be denied.

9.  BLOOD QUANTUM – it certainly has been a great year for horror, and for most of the summer this was the genre leader, a compellingly fresh take on the zombie outbreak genre with a killer hook.  Canadian writer-director Jeff Barnaby (Rhymes for Young Ghouls) has always clung close to his Native American roots, and he brings strong social relevance to the intriguing early 80s Canadian setting as a really nasty zombie virus wreaks havoc in the Red Crow Indian Reservation and its neighbouring town.  It soon becomes clear, however, that members of the local tribe are immune to the infection, a revelation with far-reaching consequences as the outbreak rages unchecked and society begins to crumble.  Barnaby pulls off some impressive world-building and creates a compellingly grungy post-apocalyptic vibe as the story progresses, while the zombies themselves are a visceral, scuzzy bunch, and there’s plenty of cracking set-pieces and suitably full-blooded kills to keep the gore-hounds happy, while the horror has real intelligence behind it, the script posing interesting questions and delivering some uncomfortable answers.  The characters, meanwhile, are a well-drawn, complex bunch, no black-and-white saviours among them, any one of them capable of some pretty inhuman horrors when the chips are down, and the cast, an interesting mix of seasoned talent and unknowns, all excel in their roles – Michale Greyeyes (Fear the Walking Dead) and Forrest Goodluck (The Revenant) are the closest things the film has to real heroes, the former a fallible everyman as Traylor, the small-town sheriff who’s just trying to do right by his family, the latter unsure of himself as his son, put-upon teenage father-to-be Joseph; meanwhile, Olivia Scriven is tough but vulnerable as his pregnant white girlfriend Charlie, Stonehorse Lone Goeman is a grizzled badass as tough-as-nails tribal elder Gisigu, and Kiowa Gordon (probably best known for playing a werewolf in the Twilight movies) really goes to the dark side as Joseph’s delinquent half-brother Lysol, while there’s a memorably subtle turn from Dead Man’s Gary Farmer as unpredictable loner Moon.  This is definitely one of the year’s darkest films – by and large playing the horror straight, it tightens the screws as the situation grows steadily worse, and almost makes a virtue of wallowing in its hopeless tone – but there’s a fatalistic charm to all the bleakness, even in the downbeat yet tentatively hopeful climax, while it’s hard to deny the ruthless efficiency of the violence on display. This certainly isn’t a horror movie for everyone, but those with a strong stomach and relatively hard heart will find much to enjoy here.  Jeff Barnaby is definitely gonna be one to watch in the future …  

8.  PALM SPRINGS – the summer’s comedy highlight kind of snuck in under the radar, becoming something of an on-demand secret weapon with all the cinemas closed, and it definitely deserves its swiftly growing cult status.  You certainly can’t possibly believe it’s the feature debut of director Max Barbakow, who shows the kind of sharp-witted, steady-handed control of his craft that’s usually the province of far more experienced talents … then again, much of the credit must surely go to seasoned TV comedy writer Andy Siara (Lodge 49), for whom this has been a real labour of love he’s been tending since his film student days.  Certainly all that care, nurture and attention to detail is up there on the screen, the exceptional script singing its irresistible siren song from the start and providing fertile ground for its promising new director to spread his own creative wings.  The premise may be instantly familiar – playing like a latter-day Saturday Night Live take on Groundhog Day (Siara admits it was a major influence), it follows the misadventures of Sarah (How I Met Your Mother’s Cristin Miliota), the black sheep maid of honour at her sweet little sister Tala’s (Riverdale’s Camila Mendes) wedding to seemingly perfect hunk Abe (Supergirl’s Superman, Tyler Hoechlin), as she finds herself repeating the same high-stress day over and over again after being trapped in a mysterious cosmic time-loop along with slacker misanthrope Nyles (Brooklyn Nine Nine megastar Andy Samberg), who’s been stuck in this same situation for MUCH longer – but in Barbakow and Siara’s hands it feels fresh and intriguing, and goes in some surprising new directions before the well-worn central premise can outstay its welcome.  It certainly doesn’t hurt that the cast are uniformly excellent – Miliota is certainly the pounding emotional heart of the film, effortlessly lovable as she flounders against her lot, then learns to accept the unique possibilities it presents, before finally resolving to find a way out, while Samberg has rarely been THIS GOOD, truly endearing in his sardonic apathy as it becomes clear he’s been stuck like this for CENTURIES, and they make an enjoyably fiery couple with snipey chemistry to burn; meanwhile there’s top-notch support from Mendes and Hoechlin, The OC’s Peter Gallagher as Sarah and Tala’s straight-laced father, the ever-reliable Dale Dickey, a thoroughly adorable turn from Jena Freidman and, most notably, a full-blooded scene-stealing performance from the mighty J.K. Simmonds as Roy, Nyles’ nemesis, who he inadvertently trapped in the loop before Sarah and is, understandably, none too happy about it.  This really is an absolute laugh-riot, today’s more post-modern sense of humour allowing the central pair (and their occasional enemy) to indulge in even more extreme consequence-free craziness than Bill Murray ever got away with back in the day, but like all the best comedies there’s also a strong emotional foundation under the humour, leading us to really care about these people and what happens to them, while the story throws moments of true heartfelt power at us, particularly in the deeply cathartic climax.  Ultimately this was one of the summer’s biggest surprises, a solid gold gem that I can’t recommend enough.

7.  THE LAST DAYS OF AMERICAN CRIME – the summer’s other heavyweight Zeitgeist fondler is a deeply satirical chunk of speculative dystopian sci-fi clearly intended as a cinematic indictment of Trump’s broken America, but it became far more potent and prescient in these … ahem … troubled times.  Adapted by screenwriter Karl Gadjusek (Oblivion, Stranger Things, The King’s Man) from the graphic novel by Rick Remender and Greg Tocchini for underrated schlock-action cinema director Olivier Megaton (Transporter 3, Colombiana, the last two Taken films), this Netflix original feature seemed like a fun way to kill a cinema-deprived Saturday night in the middle of the Lockdown, but ultimately proved to have a lot more substance than expected.  It’s powered by an intriguing premise – in a nearly lawless 2024, the US government is one week away from implementing a nationwide synaptic blocker signal called the API (American Peace Initiative) which will prevent the public from being able to commit any kind of crime – and focuses on a strikingly colourful bunch of outlaw antiheroes with an audacious agenda – prodigious Detroit bank robber Bricke (Édgar Ramiréz) is enlisted by Kevin Cash (Funny Games and Hannibal’s Michael Carmen Pitt), a wayward scion of local crime family the Dumois, and his hacker fiancée Shelby Dupree (Material Girl’s Anna Brewster) to pull off what’s destined to be the last great crime in American history, a daring raid on the night of the signal to steal over a billion dollars from the Motor City’s “money factory” and then escape across the border into Canada.  From this deceptively simple premise a sprawling action epic was born, carried along by a razor sharp, twisty script and Megaton’s typically hyperbolic, showy auteur directing style and significant skill at crafting thrillingly explosive set-pieces, while the cast consistently deliver quality performances.  Ramiréz has long been one of those actors I really love to watch, a gruff, quietly intense alpha male whose subtle understatement hides deep reserves of emotional intensity, while Dupree takes a character who could have been a thinly-drawn femme fetale and invests her with strong personal drive and steely resolve, and there’s strong support from Neil Blomkampf regulars Sharlto Copley and Brandon Auret as, respectively, emasculated beat cop Sawyer and brutal Mob enforcer Lonnie French, as well as a nearly unrecognisable Patrick Bergin as local kingpin (and Kevin’s father) Rossi Dumois; the film is roundly stolen, however, by Pitt, a phenomenal actor I’ve always thought we just don’t see enough of, here portraying a spectacularly sleazy, unpredictable force of nature who clearly has his own dark agenda, but whom we ultimately can’t help rooting for even as he stabs us in the back.  This is a cracking film, a dark and dangerous thriller of rare style and compulsive verve that I happily consider to be Megaton’s best film to date BY FAR – needless to say it was a major hit for Netflix when it dropped, clearly resonating with its audience given what’s STILL going on in the real world, and while it may have been roundly panned in reviews I think, like some of the platform’s other more glossy Original hits (Bright springs to mind), it’s destined for a major critical reappraisal and inevitable cult status before too long …

6.  HAMILTON – arriving just as Black Lives Matter reached fever-pitch levels, this feature presentation of the runaway Broadway musical smash-hit could not have been better timed.  Shot over three nights during the show’s 2016 run with the original cast and cut together with specially created “setup shots”, it’s an immersive experience that at once puts you right in amongst the audience (at times almost a character themselves, never seen but DEFINITELY heard) but also lets you experience the action up close.  And what action – it’s an incredible show, a thoroughly fascinating piece of work that reads like something very staid and proper on paper (an all-encompassing biographical account of the life and times of American Founding Father Alexander Hamilton) but, in execution, becomes something very different and EXTREMELY vital.  The execution certainly couldn’t be further from the usual period biopic fare this kind of historical subject matter usually gets (although in the face of recent top-notch revisionist takes like Marie Antoinette, The Great and Tesla it’s not SO surprising), while the cast is not at all what you’d expect – with very few notable exceptions the cast is almost entirely people of colour, despite the fact that the real life individuals they’re playing were all very white indeed.  That said, every single one of them is an absolute revelation – the show’s writer-composer Lin-Manuel Miranda (already riding high on the success of In the Heights) carries the central role of Hamilton with effortless charm and raw star power, Leslie Odom Jr. (Smash, Murder On the Orient Express) is duplicitously complex as his constant nemesis Aaron Burr, Christopher Jackson (In the Heights, Moana, Bull) oozes integrity and nobility as his mentor and friend George Washington, Phillipa Soo is sweet and classy as his wife Eliza while Renée Elise Goldsberry (The Immortal Life of Henrietta Jacks, Altered Carbon) is fiery and statuesque as her sister Angelica Schuyler (the one who got away), and Jonathan Groff (Mindhunter) consistently steals every scene he’s in as fiendish yet childish fan favourite King George III; ultimately, however, the show (and the film) belongs to veritable powerhouse Daveed Diggs (Blindspotting, TV’s Snowpiercer) in a spectacular duel role, starting subtly but gaining scene-stealing momentum as French Revolutionary Gilbert du Motier, the Marquis de Lafayette, before EXPLODING onto the stage in the second half as indomitable eventual American President Thomas Jefferson.  Not having seen the stage show, I was taken completely by surprise by this, revelling in its revisionist genius and offbeat, quirky hip-hop charm, spellbound by the skilful ease with which is takes the sometimes quite dull historical fact and skews it into something consistently entertaining and absorbing, transported by the catchy earworm musical numbers and thoroughly tickled by the delightfully cheeky sense of humour strung throughout (at least when I wasn’t having my heart broken by moments of raw dramatic power). Altogether it’s a pretty unique cinematic experience I wish I could have actually gotten to see on the big screen, and one I’ve consistently recommended to all my friends, even the ones who don’t usually like musicals.  As far as I’m concerned it doesn’t need a proper Les Misérables style screen adaptation – this is about as perfect a presentation as the show could possibly hope for.

5.  SPUTNIK – the summer’s horror highlight (despite SERIOUSLY tough competition) is a guaranteed sleeper hit that I almost totally missed, stumbling across the trailer one day on YouTube and being completely bowled over by its potential, prompting me to hunt it down by any means necessary.  The feature debut of Russian director Egor Abramenko, this first contact sci-fi chiller is about as far from E.T. as it’s possible to get, sharing some of the same DNA as Carpenter’s The Thing but proudly carving its own path with consummate skill and definitely signalling great things to come from its brand new helmer and relative unknown screenwriters Oleg Malovichko and Andrei Zolotarev.  Oksana Akinshina (probably best known in the West for her powerful climactic cameo in The Bourne Supremacy) is the beating heart of the film as neurophysiologist Tatyana Yuryevna Klimova, brought in to aid in the investigation in the Russian wilderness circa 1983 after an orbital research mission goes horribly wrong.  One of the cosmonauts dies horribly, while the other, Konstantin (The Duelist’s Pyotr Fyodorov) seems unharmed, but it quickly becomes clear that he’s now playing host to something decidedly extraterrestrial and potentially terrifying, and as Tatyana becomes more deeply embroiled in her assignment she comes to realise that her superiors, particularly mysterious Red Army project leader Colonel Semiradov (The PyraMMMid’s Fyodor Bondarchuk), have far darker plans for Konstantin and his new “friend” than she could ever imagine.  This is about as dark, intense and nightmarish as this particular sub-genre gets, a magnificently icky body horror that slowly builds its tension as we’re gradually exposed to the various truths and the awful gravity of the situation slowly reveals itself, punctuated by skilfully executed shocks and some particularly horrifying moments when the evils inflicted by the humans in charge prove to be far worse than anything the alien can do, while the ridiculously talented writers have a field day pulling the rug out from under us again and again, never going for the obvious twist and keeping us guessing right to the devastating ending, while the beautifully crafted digital creature effects are nothing short of astonishing and thoroughly creepy.  Akinshina dominates the film with her unbridled grace, vulnerability and integrity, the relationship that develops between Tatyana and Konstantin (Fyodorov delivering a beautifully understated turn belying deep inner turmoil) feeling realistically earned as it goes from tentatively wary to ultimately, tragically bittersweet, while Bondarchuk invests the Colonel with a subtly nuanced air of tarnished authority and restrained brutality that makes him one of my top screen villains for the year.  Guaranteed to go down as one of 2020’s great sleeper hits, I can’t speak of this film highly enough – it’s a genuine revelation, an instant classic for whom I’ll sing its praises for the remainder of the year and beyond, and I wish utmost success to all the creative talents involved in the future.  The Invisible Man still rules the roost in the year’s horror stakes, but this runs a VERY close second …

4.  GREYHOUND – when the cinemas closed back in March, the fate of many of the major summer blockbusters we’d been looking forward to was thrown into terrible doubt. Some were pushed back to more amenable dates in the autumn or winter, others knocked back a whole year to fill summer slots for 2021, but more than a few simply dropped off the radar entirely with the terrible words “postponed until further notice” stamped on them, and I lamented them all, this one in particular.  It hung in there longer than some, stubbornly holding onto its June release slot for as long as possible, but eventually it gave up the ghost too … but thanks to Apple TV+, not for long, ultimately releasing less than a month later than intended.  Thankfully the final film was worth the fuss, a taut World War II suspense thriller that’s all killer, no filler – set during the infamous Battle of the Atlantic, it portrays the constant life-or-death struggle faced by the Allied warships assigned to escort the transport convoys as they crossed the ocean, defending their charges from German U-boats.  Adapted from C.S. Forester’s famous 1955 novel The Good Shepherd by Tom Hanks and directed by Aaron Schneider (Get Low), the narrative focuses on the crew of the escort leader, American destroyer USS Fletcher, codenamed Greyhound, and in particular its captain, Commander Ernest Krause (Hanks), a career sailor serving his first command.  As they cross “the Pit”, the most dangerous mid stretch of the journey where they spend days without air-cover, they find themselves shadowed by “the Wolf Pack”, a particularly cunning group of German subs that begin to pick away at the convoy’s stragglers.  Faced with daunting odds, a dwindling supply of vital depth-charges and a ruthless, persistent enemy, Krause must make hard choices to bring his ships home safe … jumping into the thick of the action within the first ten minutes and maintaining that tension for the remainder of its trim 90-minute run, this is screen suspense par excellence, a sleek textbook example of how to craft a compelling big screen knuckle-whitener with zero fat and maximum reward, delivering a series of desperate naval scraps packed with hide-and-seek intensity, heart-in-mouth near-misses and fist-in-air cathartic payoffs by the bucket-load.  Hanks is subtly magnificent, the calm centre of the narrative storm as a supposed newcomer to this battle arena who could have been BORN for it, bringing to mind the similarly unflappable turn he delivered in Captain Phillips and certainly not suffering by comparison; by and large he’s the focus point, but other crew members do make strong (if sometimes quite brief) impressions, particularly Stephen Graham as Krause’s reliably seasoned XO, Lt. Commander Charlie Cole, The Magnificent Seven’s Manuel Garcia-Rulfo and Just Mercy’s Rob Morgan, while Elisabeth Shue does a lot with a very small part in brief flashbacks as Krause’s fiancée Evelyn.  Relentless, powerful, exhilarating and thoroughly unforgettable, this was one of the true action highlights of the summer, and one hell of a war flick.  I’m so glad it made the cut for the season …

3.  PROJECT POWER – with Marvel and DC pushing their tent-pole titles back into late autumn in the face of COVID, the usual superhero antics we’ve come to expect over the main blockbuster season were pretty thin on the ground, leading us to find our geeky fan thrills elsewhere.  Unfortunately, pickings were frustratingly slim – Korean comic book actioner Gundala was entertaining but workmanlike, while Thor AU-take Mortal was underwhelming despite strong direction from Troll Hunter’s André Øvredal, and I’ve already made my feelings clear on the frustration of The New Mutants – thank the Gods, then, for Netflix, once again riding to the rescue with this enjoyably offbeat super-thriller, which takes an intriguing central premise and really runs with it.  New designer drug Power has hit the streets of New Orleans, able to give anyone who takes it a superpower for five minutes … the only problem is, until you try it, you won’t know what your own unique talent is – for some, it could mean five minutes of invisibility, or insane levels of super-strength, but other powers can be potentially lethal, the really unlucky buggers just blowing up on the spot.  Robin (The Hate U Give’s Dominique Fishback) is a teenage Power-pusher with dreams of becoming a rap star, dealing the pills so she can help her diabetic mum; Frank Shaver (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is one of her customers, an NOPD detective who uses his power of near invulnerability to even the playing field when powered crims cause a disturbance.  Their lives are turned upside down when Art (Jamie Foxx) arrives in town – he’s a seriously badass ex-soldier determined to hunt down the source of Power by any means necessary, and he’s not above tearing the Big Easy apart to do it.  This is a fun, gleefully infectious  rollercoaster that doesn’t take itself too seriously, revelling in the anarchic potential of its premise and crafting some suitably OTT effects-driven chaos brought to pleasingly visceral fruition by its skilfully inventive director, Ariel Schulman (Catfish, Nerve, Viral), while Mattson Tomlin (the screenwriter of next year’s incendiary DCEU headline act The Batman) takes his script in some very interesting directions and poses some fascinating questions about what Power’s TRULY capable of.  Gordon-Levitt and Fishback are both brilliant, the latter particularly impressing in what’s sure to be a major breakthrough role for her, and the friendship their characters share is pretty adorable, while Foxx really is a force to be reckoned with, pretty chill even when he’s in deep shit but fully capable of turning into a bona fide killing machine at the flip of a switch, and there’s strong support from Westworld’s Rodrigo Santoro as Biggie, Power’s delightfully oily kingpin, Courtney B. Vance as Frank’s by-the-book superior, Captain Crane, Amy Landecker as Gardner, the morally bankrupt CIA spook responsible for the drug’s production, and Machine Gun Kelly as Newt, a Power dealer whose explosive pyrotechnic “gift” really isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  Exciting, inventive, frequently amusing and infectiously likeable, this was some of the most uncomplicated “cinematic” fun I had this summer.  Not bad for something which I’m sure was originally destined to become one of the season’s B-list features …

2.  THE OLD GUARD – Netflix’s undisputable TOP OFFERING of the summer came damn close to bagging the whole season, and I can’t help thinking that even if some of the stiffer competition had still been present it may well have still finished this high. Gina Prince-Blythewood (Love & Basketball, the Secret Life of Bees) directs comics legend Greg Rucka’s adaptation of his own popular title with uncanny skill and laser-focused visual flair considering there’s nothing on her previous CV to suggest she’d be THIS good at mounting a stomping good ultraviolent action thriller, ushering in this thoroughly engrossing tale of four ancient, invulnerable immortal warriors – Andy AKA Andromache of Scythia (Charlize Theron), Booker AKA Sebastian de Livre (Matthias Schoenaerts), Joe AKA Yusuf Al-Kaysani (Wolf’s Marwan Kenzari) and Nicky AKA Niccolo di Ginova (Trust’s Luca Marinelli) – who’ve been around forever, hiring out their services as mercenaries for righteous causes while jealously guarding their identities for fear of horrific experimentation and exploitation should their true natures ever be discovered.  Their anonymity is threatened, however, when they’re uncovered by former CIA operative James Copley (Chiwetel Ejiofor), working for the decidedly dodgy pharmaceutical conglomerate run by sociopathic billionaire Steven Merrick (Harry Melling, formerly Dudley in the Harry Potter movies), who want to capture these immortals so they can patent whatever it is that makes them keep on ticking … just as a fifth immortal, US Marine Nile Freeman (If Beale Street Could Talk’s KiKi Layne), awakens after being “killed” on deployment in Afghanistan.  The supporting players are excellent, particularly Ejiofor, smart and driven but ultimately principled and deeply conflicted about what he’s doing, even if he does have the best of intentions, and Melling, the kind of loathsome, reptilian scumbag you just love to hate, but the film REALLY DOES belong to the Old Guard themselves – Schoenaerts is a master brooder, spot-on casting as the group’s relative newcomer, only immortal since the Napoleonic Wars but clearly one seriously old soul who’s already VERY tired of the lifestyle, while Joe and Nicky (who met on opposing sides of the Crusades) are simply ADORABLE, an unapologetically matter-of-fact gay couple who are sweet, sassy and incredibly kind, the absolute emotional heart of the film; it’s the ladies, however, that are most memorable here.  Layne is exceptional, investing Nile with a steely intensity that puts her in good stead as her new existence threatens to overwhelm her and MORE THAN qualified to bust heads alongside her elders … but it’s ancient Greek warrior Andy who steals the film, Theron building on the astounding work she did in Atomic Blonde to prove, once and for all, that there’s no woman on Earth who looks better kicking arse than her (as Booker puts it, “that woman has forgotten more ways to kill than entire armies will ever learn”); in her hands, Andy truly is a goddess of death, tough as tungsten alloy and unflappable even in the face of hell itself, but underneath it all she hides a heart as big as any of her friends’. They’re an impossibly lovable bunch and you feel you could follow them on another TEN adventures like this one, which is just as well, because Prince-Blythewood and Rucka certainly put them through their paces here – the drama is high (but frequently laced with a gentle, knowing sense of humour, particularly whenever Joe and Nicky are onscreen), as are the stakes, and the frequent action sequences are top-notch, executed with rare skill and bone-crunching zest, but also ALWAYS in service to the story. Altogether this is an astounding film, a genuine victory for its makers and, it seems, for Netflix themselves – it’s become one of the platform’s biggest hits to date, earning well-deserved critical acclaim and great respect and genuine geek love from the fanbase at large. After this, a sequel is not only inevitable, it’s ESSENTIAL …

1.  TENET – granted, the streaming platforms (particularly Netflix and Amazon) certainly did save our cinematic summer, but I’m still IMMEASURABLY glad that the season’s ultimate top-spot winner was one I got to experience on THE BIG SCREEN.  You gotta hand it to Christopher Nolan, he sure hung in there, stubbornly determined that his latest cinematic masterpiece WOULD be released in cinemas in the summer (albeit ultimately landing JUST inside the line in the final week of August), and it was worth all the fuss because, for me, this was THE PERFECT MOVIE for me to get return to cinemas with.  I mean, okay, in the end it WASN’T the FIRST new movie I saw after the reopening, that honour went to Unhinged, but THIS was my first real Saturday night out big screen EXPERIENCE since March.  Needless to say, Nolan didn’t disappoint this time any more than he has on any of his consistently spectacular previous releases, delivering another twisted, mind-boggling headfuck of a full-blooded experiential sensory overload that comes perilously close to toppling his long-standing auteur-peak, Inception (itself second only by fractions to The Dark Knight as far as I’m concerned). To say much at all about the plot would give away major spoilers – personally I’d recommend just going in as cold as possible, indeed you really should just stop reading this right now and just GO SEE IT.  Still with us?  Okay … the VERY abridged version is that it’s about a secret war being waged between the present and the future by people capable of “inverting” time in substances, objects, people, whatever, into which the Protagonist (BlacKkKlansman’s John David Washington), an unnamed CIA agent, has been dispatched in order to prevent a potential coming apocalypse. Washington is once again on top form, crafting a robust and compelling morally complex heroic lead who’s just as comfortable negotiating the minefields of black market intrigue as he is breaking into places or dispatching heavies, Kenneth Branagh delivers one of his most interesting and memorable performances in years as brutal Russian oligarch Andrei Sator, a genuinely nasty piece of work who may be the year’s very best screen villain, Elizabeth Debicki (The Night Manager, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Widows) brings strength, poise and wounded integrity to the role of Sator’s estranged wife, Kat, and Aaron Taylor-Johnson gets to use his own accent for once as tough-as-nails British Intelligence officer Ives, while there are brief but consistently notable supporting turns and cameos from Martin Donovan, Yesterday’s HImesh Patel, Dirk Gently’s Fiona Dourif and, of course, Nolan’s good luck charm, Michael Caine.  The cast’s biggest surprise, however, is Robert Pattinson, truly a revelation in what has to be, HANDS DOWN, his best role to date, Neil, the Protagonist’s mysterious handler – he’s by turns cheeky, slick, duplicitous and thoroughly badass, delivering an enjoyably multi-layered, chameleonic performance which proves what I’ve long maintained, that the former Twilight star is actually a fucking amazing actor, and on the basis of this, even without that amazing new teaser trailer making the rounds, I think the debate about whether or not he’s the right choice for the new Batman is now academic.  As we’ve come to expect from Nolan, this is a TRUE tour-de-force experience, a visual masterpiece and an endlessly engrossing head-scratcher, Nolan’s screenplay bringing in some seriously big ideas and throwing us some major narrative knots and loopholes, constantly wrong-footing the viewer while also setting up truly revelatory payoffs from seemingly low-key, unimportant beginnings – this is a film you need to be awake and attentive for or you could miss something pretty vital.  The action sequences are, as ever, second to none, some of the year’s very best set-pieces coming thick and fast and executed with some of the most accomplished skill in the business, while Nolan-regular cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema (Interstellar and Dunkirk, as well as the heady likes of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, SPECTRE and Ad Astra) once again shows he’s one of the best camera-wizards in the business today by delivering some truly mesmerising visuals.  Notably, Nolan’s other regular collaborator, composer Hans Zimmer, is absent here (although he has good reason, currently working on his dream project, the fast-approaching screen adaptation of Dune), but Ludwig Göransson (best known for his regular collaborations with Ryan Coogler on the likes of Fruitvale Station, Creed and Black Panther, as well as truly awesome work on The Mandalorian) makes for a fine replacement, crafting an intriguingly internalised, post-modern musical landscape that thrums and pulses in time with the story and emotions of the characters rather than the action itself. Interestingly it’s on the subject of sound that some of the film’s rare detractions have been levelled, and I can see some of the points – the soundtrack mix is an all-encompassing thing, and there are times when the dialogue can be overwhelmed, but in Nolan’s defence as a film this is a heady, immersive experience, something you really need to concentrate on, so these potential flaws are easily forgiven.  As a piece of filmmaking art, this is another flawless wonder from one of the true masters of the craft working in cinema today, but it’s art with palpable substance, a rewarding whole that really HAS TO BE experienced on the big screen.  So put your snobbery at post-lockdown restrictions aside for the moment and get yourself down to your nearest cinema so you can experience it for yourself.  You won’t be disappointed.  Right now, this is my movie of the year, and with only one possible exception, I really don’t see that changing …

#movies 2020 #body cam #body cam (2020) #blood quantum #blood quantum movie #palm springs #palm springs movie #the last days of american crime #hamilton #hamilton movie #sputnik #sputnik movie #greyhound #greyhound movie #project power #the old guard #tenet #tenet movie #awesome sauce

[immoral-tales]

Character Analysis: Osamu Dazai

001

A/N: this is a character analysis on Osamu Dazai with an older lover. Nonnie and I were discussing this concept back on my old blog. I adored these discussions, therefore, I have decided to move all of them here.

You, I really like you. Believe me, you are not the only one thinking Dazai would fit well with an older S/O. There are numerous reasons and I can write an entire dissertation on why Dazai would have a great relationship with an older S/O. I adore the concept of him having an older, more experienced S/O in almost every field. I need to calm down and sort out all of my thoughts, I have just returned from a trip and I jumped to my computer as soon as I read your message. First of all, I would like to thank you for sending this headcanon. I completely agree with you and I will defend this headcanon with my life. I do have one simple favor, could you send me more headcanons and concepts similar to this one? I love, love reading ideas about Dazai having an older S/O. I have a request sitting in my notifications about Dazai and his older S/O, if it is your request, then you are the best! It has been in my messages for some time now; however, it is one of my favorite requests, therefore, I’m going to take my sweet, sweet time to write it.

Dazai is a complex character, it is not a simple task to understand his layered personality. A young person will have difficulty understanding him and he would have a hard time opening up to a person who is in the same age range as him. You can argue with me about it, but I strongly believe he would be attracted to a woman who is in her late twenties or early thirties and emotionally stable. An understanding woman with a mature, yet playful personality. She should be understanding of Dazai’s situation. He has been through hell and back, Dazai has a nihilistic outlook on life as much as he refuses to admit it. His childish and foolish behavior is a facade and every one of us is well aware of it. It is his coping mechanism to cover his melancholy. If he decided to reveal his true colors, no one would accept him. A man like him has no place in the world of normal human beings, therefore, he would be quite lucky to find a person that would be by his side no matter the circumstances—a woman that would be with him until the end of the line. His S/O should not be discouraged by his suicidal tendencies. Quite the opposite, she should be able to handle his dark sense of humor and play along with him—bonus points if she has a similar taste in humor.

He needs a trustworthy woman by his side, a person he could rely on, and be able to rest his head on her shoulder at the end of a busy and tiring day, telling her about his day as he wraps his arms around her waist protectively. Despite all these traits, Dazai needs a person with a cunning intelligence and quick-witted to comprehend his mischievous attitude and tolerate his antics. His S/O should be quite educated and knowledgeable, as well. This man deserves the world, even though he wronged in the past, but he is trying his best to redeem himself. Perhaps, even Osamu Dazai deserves some happiness.

Additionally, I’m writing some one-shots for “Dragged Across Concrete” and there is one with Dazai and older S/O. If you are curious, I will reveal the name. Thank you for coming to my pep talk. With this, I rest my case.

I’m delighted to know I’m not the only one considering Dazai having an older S/O is adorable. There is no need to worry about it, everyone has their own preferences and there is nothing wrong about it. Hell, you should be proud of it and I’m with you on this one. My apologies to everyone, but I’m with this anon. I have read many stories with Dazai being paired up with an innocent, childish type and I simply cannot vibe with it. I do not have many stories published here, but if you read any of them, you will understand what type of personality I’m aiming for. An older/mature S/O for him is one of the best options for him and no one can change my mind. Therefore, I would like to thank you for agreeing with me. I greatly appreciate it. Imagine his S/O being a highly trained spy with a particular set of skills who is fully capable of keeping up with Dazai. As a spy with the years of experience under her belt, she can read people like an open book and this is what Dazai needs. A person that can understand him, without him uttering a word.

You have requests? Send them in. I might be slow as fuck, but I like to take my sweet, sweet time whilst working on them. I wish to give you quality content and not half-assed stories. The title of the one-shot is “Stray Dog Strut.” Whoops.

It is about Dazai falling deeply in love with a senior member!S/O, but she has difficulty understanding he is serious about his intentions with her, due to his constant flirting and what would he do to convince her that he is considering pursuing her. Is this your request?

I’m a fucking genius! Seriously though, I’m delighted to know the feeling is mutual. A childish, innocent reader is great and all, but you will have difficulty finding such content on this blog. Whoops. I might or might not like it when the readers in my writing have big dick energy and Dazai’s S/O is not going to be an exception either. I completely agree with you, once more. One simply does not go to Dazai when they have problems, you have Kunikida for that. Recently, I have been thinking about it—believe me, I have nothing else to do—and I strongly believe Dazai would never be attracted to a female version of himself, considering his past and mindset. His outlook on life does not help in this situation. I will die believing he is a nihilist and no one can change my mind. Despite his layered personality, at the end of the day, he is a nihilist. Therefore, to counter his complex character, we need an older, experienced reader that has seen enough in this world and would not be surprised to see one of his stunts. I will go into details, I have been waiting for this opportunity to whip out my concept of Dazai’s significant other. Thank you for giving me a perfect opportunity for it. A fair warning, mentions of suicidal tendencies. We are talking about Dazai, after all.

I have a strong desire to review his outlook on life and reveal which type would be a perfect match for our nihilist. This is my personal opinion, therefore, it would be natural for some of you to disagree. Let us proceed, shall we?

I will not bore you with his past since every one of you are familiar with it, more or less. Dazai has been exposed to death, violence, and brutality at a very young age. Hell, he met Mori at the age of fourteen as he attempted to take his own life, but most likely, failed. We, the readers of the manga and the watchers of the anime, are not certain of his living conditions. Unfortunately, it has never been revealed, therefore, let us assume he grew up in a horrible environment that led him to become quite suicidal, then apathetic. There are many factors that played a major role in making Dazai who he is today. If it had not been for Odasaku, he would have remained with the Port Mafia and surpassed Mori with his ruthlessness and holding no regard towards the life of a human being. Because of his past, he became a nihilist, but he is great at concealing it by plastering that ridiculous grin of his on his handsome face. Deep down, he is well aware he does not deserve to live because of the atrocities he had done, yet he does not deserve to die. He can still redeem himself and that is what he is doing. And he deserves to be happy, as well. I’m not saying, everyone has the right to be happy, but Dazai is one of them. All his life has been grey, but the time has come for him to see the world in black and white, perhaps, in colors, as well.

This man deserves someone who can truly love him and stay by his side no matter the circumstances. He needs an understanding, mature woman. She should be able to understand his dark sense of humor and play along with him. For instance, upon their first meeting—undoubtedly—he would suggest committing double suicide with him. I can imagine her responding with a low chuckle and asking him to reserve that place specifically for her, but first, she would prefer to get to know him better as she wishes to know the person whom she is going to commit double suicide. Her unusual response would pique his curiosity as he engages in conversation, asking some odd questions, but she answers all of them without breaking a sweat, watching Dazai’s reaction with great amusement. After his first encounter with her, he would reserve a special place for her but decides to put his suicidal tendencies aside as he interacts with her, getting to know her better. If she allows him to be physically affectionate with her, then it is expected to find his face buried in her chest. He adores those titties—size and shape do not matter to him. And another weakness of his would be her thighs, as well. As he gets comfortable with her, he discovers she is quite good at holding decent conversations and drinking whiskey alone at his favorite bar is no longer an option because he has her. During one of their conversations, he discovers she is a realist, sees the world the way it is, not the way she wants to see it. Dazai is fascinated by her outlook on life and her personality draws him more and more. He becomes infatuated with her and as he spends more time with her, he realizes he cannot imagine his life without her. The woman becomes more than just his drinking buddy. Yes, they do not have much in common, but it does not stop Dazai from harboring romantic feelings for her. At first, he does not understand these foreign feelings, but then he discovers he is head over heels in love with her and he has no desire to let her go. His life would be empty without her.

My apologies, I have got carried away, but I’m rather passionate when it comes to Dazai. Even though I’m Dostoyevsky’s slut, I still love Dazai. In the beginning, I thought Dazai and happiness should not be used in the same sentence, but now, I’m convinced even he is capable of loving; however, I’m not too certain about Fedya.

Before I rest my case, I want to add, even if Dazai cannot love, he would genuinely care for her like he cares for his colleagues and watches out for them. In the present, he is fully capable of feeling such a feeling, but his past self would not.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#dazai headcanons #character analysis #ideas and headcanons #dazai with an older lover

[taichissu]

honest opinion on a3 act 3 (like the parts that have the tsumugi & taichi and the tenma & tsuzuru plays)

sorry i took so long i had a long paper to work on ahaha but here watch out for spoilers for act 3 ep 9

before i say anything, keep in mind, i have NOT read episode 10! i started reading it back when i binged the entire thing , but i stopped on like first few chapters and never been able to force myself to continue saklfjsjkf i have read episode 9 though, like a good taichi stan :)

i wanna try not to be too biased, but it’s kinda hard considering the episode play’s second lead is taichi, who’s my second best boy, so keep that in mind-----

first of all, y’all have no idea how happy i was that we got more insight into reni and yukio’s past!! i really love how their relation to each other changed over years and even though it was tragic it felt very real too; it also gave reni the feeling of humanity and all the bad deeds he’s done don’t seem pointless

loved that we learnt what happened to yukio, although the whole situation seemed kinda exaggerated; plagiarism is a terrible crime but is it bad enough to go to such an extent?? kinda over the top but what would you expect from the theater industry-

and we got to meet the original troupe leaders!!!!!! it got me so excited you have absolutely NO IDEA, i can’t even explain why, but i was so happy to see them, and i truly hope we’ll get to meet other original mankai members as well!!!!!

the whole god-za thing; great, amazing, stellar, effervescent, fixed haruto for me and now i love him So Much, i loved every second the god-za trio (haruto, shifuto and madoka who isn’t really a god-za but shhh) were interacting, i loved the exposure of the ikaruga family and really appreciated how it didn’t just magically got fixed the moment they talked but instead was stretched out to them working on their bond since OF COURSE it’d be awkward after all those years of separation

and the play, god, the PLAY; anyone who’s talked to me more than twice knows how much i love the angel/demon/religious stories whoever designed lucifer tsumugi’s outfit+makeup combo deserves a raise like JESUS that’s so good i really loved the aesthetic of all the designs, they felt so mellow and rough but didn’t lack personality either i loved the relations between the characters as well; i loved seeing lucifer grow more and more human the more time he spent with mark, and i loved cliff as well, his ideology was supposed to be seen as a negative considering he was one of the antagonists, but honestly, i agreed with him in every way eat the rich the one thing i would change in this play would be the fight scenes; in both the story and the chibi play, the fight scenes were reserved exclusively to special effects, stuff like magic and stuff, and while it makes sense (because it’s a mixed play, and i don’t think winter troupe specializes in action scenes which would be hard for them) i still would rather see some well choreographed hand to hand battles <3

i hope i didn’t forget about any important plot points? rn i only remember reni/yukio, og a3ders, god-za trio, ikaruga fam and STRAY DEVIL BLUES <3 (listen to the contract rn PLEASE I LOVE THIS SONG SM)

it was supposed to be very honest and ruthless but 😭 i’m so biased for me, if i don’t hate something i absolutely love it Save Me

#ask #honestopiniontime #anon #Anonymous

[sepublic]

The Mountain

          In the mountainous regions of the Artidax District lies a sole mountain. While all other peaks on Xia have been mined, stripped, harvested, and built upon, this lone mountain stands out amongst the rest as being entirely bare. With the exception of sparse grasses and trees around its base that get thinner further up the mountain’s length, this mountain is mostly desolate, with an icy, snow-topped peak. Several animals live on this mountain, free from the influence of Xian industry.

          This mountain is the largest in all of Xia, and its peak is visible amidst the skylines of the cursed land’s cities. Given Dume’s controlling nature, it is unusual to see the island’s largest mountain entirely untouched, and no doubt the view from its peak could be enjoyable for nobles desiring a mountain resort. So why is this mountain left bare and untouched, graced only by Xia’s few remaining animals?

          Some will tell you this mountain is cursed, and it is… But to put it forth as simply and bluntly as possible, to the point without any metaphors;

          The Mountain is alive. It is a living creature, and it devours anything that steps upon its surface and garners its attention.

          The exact nature of The Mountain is uncertain. Various tales and rumors have sprung up explaining the unusual phenomenon; Some claim it is a rogue Xian Heart of Stone. Others believe it arose after the site of horrific crimes against humanity, watered and fed by the slain blood of the innocent. A few even assert that The Mountain is actually infested by nearly microscopic creatures that pry open the earth to trap prey and devour it.

          Whatever the reason for The Mountain, it is certainly alive. Historical records and anecdotes allude to it being around centuries ago, as early as the beginning periods of Xia’s industrial age; Curiously, such records allude to it being much smaller than it currently is today. As of now, its growth seems to have halted, but nobody can say for sure.

          Regardless of its past, The Mountain’s current status is absolute and definite. On first appearance, it resembles just about any regular mountain, with some vegetation along its base, which begins to thin out further along its peak. At the very top is snow and ice, accumulated from the soaring peak’s unmatched altitude. All along the sheer cliff-faces and rocky slopes, one can find a couple of animals, from mountain goats to birds, to Cliff Screechers and Necrofinches and so forth.

          But scratch the gilded, seemingly-peaceful and natural surface of The Mountain, and one learns the truth. When cut, its grasses leak corrosive, burning acids. As for The Mountain itself… It does not feast too often. But when it does, it will suddenly shudder. A poor, hapless animal or any other victim on its side will be searched for, selected… And then the cliff-face will open. The stone itself will begin to absorb the body of its prey, folding in to ensnare its legs before curling in and crunching up the animal. Despite its cries for help and struggles, the prey will be unable to escape as it is slowly but surely absorbed into the face of The Mountain. The stone will close up permanently, and all that can be heard is the continued, muffled crunches of The Mountain from beneath its rocky surface.

          The Mountain’s living, all-devouring nature was discovered early in Xia’s industrial age, and for those reasons it was immediately left behind and forsaken as a spot for settlements. For the most part, it was left untouched, isolated to the frozen north; But eventually, development of that region for the computers of Xia began. The ice began to melt from massive swathes of heat pollution, but when progress made its way to The Mountain, now as large as the rest of its peers, explorers found themselves quickly eaten alive.

          Tales spread of The Mountain, but nobody could be bothered to kill it at the time. There was plenty of other space and real estate to use, and so The Mountain was left untouched as factories were set up elsewhere. Other peaks were used to establish broadcasting towers and satellite dishes, and The Mountain continued to be left unscathed.

          By the time of Turaga Dume’s rule as a dictator, he began to consider destroying The Mountain, finding the sight of it to be ugly; It was free and uncontrolled menace, rebelling against the very order he sought to maintain in Artidax. By then however, The Mountain was the largest peak in all of Xia, and a challenge much too difficult for him; A brief attempt to kill it by firing a Xian Heart of Fire into its side resulted in The Mountain suddenly trembling in pain. Due to its immense size, the tremors spread throughout Artidax, resulting in powerful quakes that devastated surrounding cities. If one continued trying to kill it, The Mountain’s thrashing death throes would tear apart and level most of Artidax. Humbled and defeated, Dume finally recognized the risk and power of The Mountain, and ceased any and all attempts to eradicate it henceforth.

          Besides- Even if he could destroy it, it was unlikely for Dume to be allowed to by many powerful Xians. For among certain circles of the Xian elite, there is a dark tradition, spanning back a few centuries… While most kingdoms that formed from the disappearance of the Barraki eventually industrialized, not all of them did so quickly, and not at the same time. Those near the north, within what was once Pridak’s domain, began to worship and deify The Mountain. They saw it as the embodiment of nature itself, here to test the power of Xians to survive at all odds.

          Enemies and death-row prisoners would be sacrificed to The Mountain, feeding the beast and enabling its growth. Not only that, but a tradition arose… Those who wished to ascend to the throne, either by slaying the current ruler or by inheriting it, must ascend its peak and return to prove their worth. If a Xian warrior could conquer The Mountain, then they had the ruthlessness and determination necessary to lead themselves and others to victory.

          Although this rite of passage was initially reserved for Xians in the region seeking political power and authority, as a means of proving themselves, it eventually spread throughout all of the societies surrounding The Mountain. Now, it became a rite of passage, a coming-of-age trial for the young of these groups to scale The Mountain. Those who returned were celebrated and hailed as adults; Those who didn’t were simultaneously mourned and disgraced posthumously. The Mountain itself gained religious significance and even deified by some.

          As the region developed into the Artidax District and the area industrialized, the tribes, kingdoms, and other groups around The Mountain followed suit. While many were relegated to thankless workers in factories, some were elevated to further status thanks to the accumulated wealth. As they had families that later inherited their wealth, the tradition of scaling The Mountain continued.

          Now, this dark tradition has persisted amongst certain members of the Xian elite. These ruthless members were either descendants of the original groups that practiced this rite, or were ‘inspired’ and chose to participate anyway. Amongst some noble families, it became required for an heir to scale The Mountain in order to earn their wealth; Likewise, it was also viable for siblings and relatives to compete for inheritance, by racing to the top of The Mountain and back. The first to come back received the most wealth; And if their opponent didn’t return, then they gained all of it! An overseer on a flying vehicle, and in later years a floating drone, would survey progress to test the legitimacy of an ascension and return, to ensure competitors did in fact go all the way up and down.

          For some companies, such as Vortixx Industries, ascending The Mountain became a requirement. If one intended to become CEO of the business, they needed to survive the journey; Competitors, if they returned alive, would be relegated to lower positions amongst the board and so forth. Unless the CEO was proven to be truly negligent and incompetent, they could not be fired; But someone else could challenge them for their position through The Mountain. The current CEO of Vortixx Industries, Roodaka, once ascended the peak with a friend during her youth- But when the friend’s foot was stuck in the cliff of The Mountain, which had just now begun to take notice of them, Roodaka was left with a choice;

          Save her pleading friend, and lead Vortixx Industries together as originally planned…

          …OR, take all of the power, wealth, and prestige for herself, and leave them behind, in turn not risking gathering The Mountain’s attention as well.

          Roodaka made a decision that day; And The Mountain enjoyed a new meal.

          Some tradition-bound Xian nobles will grant positions of wealth and prestige amongst the Xian elite to even the lowliest of commoners, but only if they successfully scale The Mountain. To these ‘Old Money’ folk, The Mountain is the true divider between the strong and the weak, and if a poor Xian can ascend it, then they deserve ascension on the societal level as well, or so the traditions claim at least. According to legend, those who reached the peak of The Mountain would grace the very surface of the heavens, closest to them than anyone else, before returning with their divine blessing to Xia below.

          Auditions to become a Xian noble are very few and far-between, and the elites who host such competitions can be rather picky and arbitrary about their choices. To be invited to compete is an incredibly rare opportunity, akin to winning the lottery; Especially since many races have ended with all competitors devoured by The Mountain anyway, no winner left to seize their respective portion of the prize.

          Due to the way wealth is distributed amongst those who successfully scale The Mountain, it is inevitable that most competitors would seek to sabotage, and even assassinate one another. The Mountain’s massive size means that it isn’t aware of everything happening along its body- It has to selectively search a location with its senses before settling on prey, and devouring it. Those who are stealthy and make little noise and don’t disturb The Mountain’s rocky surface can ideally get past without being noticed, so obviously Xians will sabotage one another by yelling, making noise, digging into the mountain-side, planting explosives, and so forth. Some will resort to outright killing one another in combat, or pushing them off the side of a cliff to be killed by the fall- The Mountain can sense blood and its attention is immediately drawn if so much as a drop lands on its surface.

          Some Xians will team up with one another, agreeing to help each other in order to guarantee survival and some degree of wealth, but of course the greedy will try betraying others at the last second, usually as they near the end of a descent. Some attempted betrayals have backfired, either from the greedy Xians being killed themselves by their betrayed comrades, or by The Mountain after its attention was gained through violence and bloodshed.

          Those who have earned the ire of a powerful noble will sometimes find themselves wrapped up and offered to The Mountain as tribute; But amongst such unfortunate Xians, some will be given the chance to survive on The Mountain for a certain period of time, and if still alive, will be granted either a lesser sentence or total amnesty. Unsurprisingly, Kratakal the celebrity has hosted a few brutal competitons on The Mountain for entertainment. Kratakal himself is immune to The Mountain, able to easily escape its grasp, and is unpalatable for it anyway, lacking any nutritional value and being too difficult to chew thanks to his invulnerable bohrok armor. Kratakal is amongst the small group of wealthy Xians who utilize The Mountain as a means of ascending select Xians to the nobility.

          Smaller predators still exist among The Mountain, furthering the danger; Animals continue to live on The Mountain, not only because it is possible to avoid its attention, but also because it is one of the few areas in Xia untouched by its industrial expansion. The Mountain itself is not gluttonous and will selectively desire a few meals every now and then to feed itself, but will otherwise leave its animal populations intact to breed and provide further steady streams of sustenance.

          Once The Mountain has a hold on someone, they are more-or-less screwed. It IS possible to break free of its grasp, but once its attention has been drawn, it will continue to pursue its prey by opening up massive chasms in its face until the meal inevitably falls in and is crunched apart. Victims that can fly have a decent chance of survival, but usually they’re much less weighty and nutritious than other meals, so they tend to be ignored by The Mountain anyway. Still, it’ll scavenge a dead corpse if given the chance. The Mountain hydrates itself with the blood of prey, but also with the snow and ice on its peak that melts into water.

          Although it was much more voracious in its younger years, happily devouring passing animals unaware of its true nature, as well as sacrifices and tributes, it has since settled down a bit more. Its massive form has become stable and hopefully reached the extent of its growth; Now, it requires surprisingly little to sustain itself, usually remaining in a deep slumber before periodically awakening to feed. The Mountain occasionally has feeding periods, where it remains awake for a certain amount of time, devouring plenty; It is during these recorded feeding periods that many ascensions up The Mountain are usually planned, to truly test Xian challengers.  

          Because of The Mountain’s danger, real estate along its base is incredibly cheap, but few are willing to buy land there. While its reach is technically limited and there is a certain boundary where the earth is not a part of The Mountain, nobody wants to risk it.

#bionicle #Bionicle RaE #the mountain #xia #roodaka #artidax #dume #vortixx #kratakal

[firjii]

Boomers are autistic/ADHD too

Yanno what I’m just saying it and maybe I’ll get called a traitor or whatever but that doesn’t stop this from being a distinct possibility: there’s a lot of untreated, undiagnosed, unacknowledged ADHD and autism among boomers. I notice it every single day and I can’t believe more people don’t talk about it.

Stay with me because this gets long.

They didn’t know shit for shit about the brain when boomers were children. Hyper or “disobedient” children were beaten or given some other utterly useless and frequently detrimental punishment. Institutionalization was considered totally acceptable in moderately severe autism cases. Therapy as we know it was typically reserved for people who were so cripplingly traumatized in some way that there was literally no other choice. It was usually damage control after the fact, not intervention.

Yes, autism and ADHD have some form of research history spanning several centuries, but your average regular person didn’t know that (and still doesn’t always, since the 20th century is often egregiously known as the century of “new” medical “fads”). Your average doctor didn’t necessarily know about it. It was a relatively fringe topic, so not all psychiatrists/psychologists learned it because it was a blip (or nothing) on the syllabus unless maybe you were specializing in children or developmental disabilities (and there......really weren’t a lot of either such specialist up to a certain point :///).

Everyone else affected by it but deemed functional or marriable enough to try living in the world just dealt with it, for better and worse. Many of the blatantly obvious signs we now use for diagnosis were lumped in as a personality type/trait at best or an intelligence marker at worst.

And I get where that comes from......sort of. Brian is a persistently loud talker, Amy is deeply claustrophobic, Sam gets nervous easier than some other people, Alex needs a tiny bit more time to hand copy an address. Who is ND on closer investigation? Maybe all, maybe none. You can show a few signs without them being part of a big dire diagnosis conspiracy. Far be it for me to try to call someone something they’re not.

But given how many people are disregarded or misdiagnosed in general for anything medically-related whatsoever, it’s too easy to use that line of thought to dismiss a legitimate case or just plain avoid a problem. 

Some affected boomers thrived and found careers that valued (and even normalized!!)  hyperfocusing, attention to detail, channeled hyperactivity, etc. (LOOKIN AT YOU, COMPUTER ENGINEERS AND VARIOUS TECHIE INVENTORS). Some of them had/have somewhat chaotic or strained home lives, but for all intents and purposes, they do or have done at least some of what they wanted to in life.

But many others didn’t. Think about all the kids who were called “unteachable” so they barely finished high school (for fuck’s sake it was hard to even get humane tutoring for dyslexia), could barely ever keep a job, and in some cases weren’t truly prepared for having kids because they struggled to take care of themselves as it was.

Think about the stay-at-home moms who turned into lowkey addicts or alcoholics to escape feelings of uselessness/insignificance simply because sometimes they forgot to or couldn’t do something that day and everyone around them shamed them about all those little things for years or decades. We like to joke about yuppy drunks (and yes that was/is a real problem), but it wasn’t always about disgusting social habits.

Many of that generation blames the problems they’re dealing with right now on age, and that’s a close enough approximation in practice that a lot of people don’t dispute it. To be fair, age does really do that shit to people: you forget things easier, you can’t always finish a task but you’re not sure why, you don’t always have the energy you want/need, etc. Sometimes age is just age.

But I remember differently. I remember seeing those things because I was dealing with them too and couldn’t understand why the grownups were so upset at themselves when actually mistake XYZ wasn’t really a huge crisis and wasn’t a big deal – because there were double standards, both external and self-imposed. No one questioned them much with me – a small child at the time – but they were a big shitting deal when it came to an outwardly functional adult. I remember all the oddities, quirks, and problems that these people were dealing with as young as their late 30s in some cases.

That’s not age, it’s a goddamn brain issue. Age is now complicating things, yes. But so many want to pretend that they were completely normal before they turned 50 or 60 or whatever, at which point they promptly and swiftly had an overnight change. That’s not fair to anyone. It’s emotionally ruthless and medically sloppy, and yet a lot of them go on believing it anyway.

I genuinely feel that this is a reason why some boomers are so baffled or disbelieving of ND issues in their own kids and their kids’ kids. They can sometimes see younger generations’ problems in their own lives and even relate to them, but they’re so used to it – and in many cases, got zero help in learning how to manage it – that they don’t get what the big deal is about shoehorning people into miserable, unhealthy, or borderline hazardous life patterns. They assume that the massive struggle, intense frustration, and subsequent other negative health side effects are just….part of life and you either sink or swim.

And I…....kinda get that mentality because putting stock in “no excuses” does push some people to do better?? And yes you should be mindful of self-imposed excuses stopping you from doing things??

But now that overall lack of acknowledgement means that we have multiple generations who still default to believing that most of their problems are solely voluntary and conscious decisions, always and exclusively their own fault, something that they “could” just walk away from forever if they “chose” to.

We have multiple generations who still assume that they’re alone in their problems and even that they kind of deserve shitty or abusive behavior from others because they’re “bad” and “should have seen it coming” or “need to smarten up.”

We have children and grown-ass adults alike who are totally unprepared to deal with lifelong problems on top of things like broken economies and increasingly demanding neurotypicals’ social standards (because yeah, even though us younger folks warmly welcome things like the shift from calling to texting, that can still reach absurd levels of maintenance and anxiety because now the older generations assume that just because a few people are extremely “with it” that the rest of us are too).

And all because some people are so terrified of labels that they’re also willing to totally deny the existence of some very real medical stuff even though they themselves might be dealing with it.

I’m not trying to excuse crappy parents, bad home environments, bad education experiences, or anything else negative. I’m also not trying to blame all of psychology’s faults on one generation.

I’m just saying that it’s not that surprising if you really stop and think about it.

Psychology and neurology have come a long way in a fairly short time (granted it still needs to go much further, but at least we’ve started) and it kinda makes you wonder if things would be different now if our parents and grandparents had known then what we know now.

ASD doesn’t have an age limit. Just because it’s close to impossible for some people (especially borderlines and maskers) to get a formal diagnosis once they’re legal adults doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist at 30, 40, 50, 60, 70, or 80. It’s more a question of whether anyone bothers to, well...ask questions.

So yes, some people are just unapologetic assholes who don’t want to hear the truth or entertain any notions other than their own, even after being presented with hard evidence. They’re obsessed with normality, sometimes to the point of fetishization. Fuck them entirely, I agree.

But don’t assume that the younger generations own the copyright on neurodivergency. We just happen to live in a time when it’s starting to be less deniable so some of us can take action sooner to deal with it.

#asd #autism #adhd #adult autism #boomers #adult adhd #generational problems #baby boomer generation #boomers vs millenials #boomers vs gen z