#and its the type where i have no ida what is going on in my head so pls be kind

[wlwloverwrites]

hi, currently going through a sexuality crisis, i dont know who i like and its very confusing hence the lack of writing. sorry lovers :’)

i hope yall can still support me

#for the longest time i was set as a lesbian… now? #now i dont know #i apparently like men? so this is very very very very new to me #and its the type where i have no ida what is going on in my head so pls be kind #idea** #i just wanted to communicate with yall why i havent been writing #lover deletes #pls be kind my friends joke that im straight but im like 80% sure im not #maybe pan? IM NOT SURE #um yeah.

[petrichoraline]

hiiii <3 what are your all time favorite bls and why? i need to fill up my to-watch list asap

oh, this ask made me ecstatic to the point i considered one of my moots sent it cause they know giving recs makes me happy 😄

what I'd constitute as faves isn't necessarily what i would usually recommend, to moots i mostly suggest shows and movies that i find unique in some way and that have left a good impression on me like i will knock you, kimi no koto dake mite itai, word of honor, fukou kun, the untamed, docchi mo docchi, seven days, itsay, msp, vice versa etcetcetc. it's not necessarily about perfect writing or acting even, it's about the piece of media provoking either lots of thoughts, emotions or both, having at least one unique trait i associate with it and just being enjoyable despite (or because of) its flaws! so that's the type of media i usually enjoy sharing with others.

now, it's infinitely easier for me to give recs based on any other criteria but "my personal faves" is such a subjective category (that im not even sure exists) that i had to cheat a bit - i went off of what couples make me go feral, what emotions the show title evokes and if i've revisited certain scenes. i don't do full rewatches for the most part but i sometimes go back to watch the main couples (the exception being waantul in between us, i know their scenes a hundred times better than winteam's lol) and most of the shows listed here have been revisited at least once 😗

Love Is Science? - NOT a bl, the pair in question are the second couple; i personally went through every episode looking for their scenes and then went through the cut on yt (and rightfully so, quite a few scenes were missing in that); i'm recommending you smth this inconvenient because i love Mark and Ou Wen so much. their personalities (they have personality for daysss), the chemistry (the hanger scene), their love and support for each other make me giddy. they carry their part so well you don't need much else, just watching them interact is enough. going through gifs now i got reminded of just how amazing the development of their relationship is to me. they're a delight and a half, enjoy them flustering each other 💖

To My Star Season 2: Our Untold Stories - now, i'm aware you have to see s1 first but when it comes to who makes me go feral, it's definitely Seojoon and Jiwoo and this happened mostly because of season 2, i didn't care for them much originally. this season explored an aspect of relationships i don't think i've seen explored anywhere else in a way that makes me still get in my feels whenever anything bout the show comes across my dash. it's angsty but so worth it. my boys have intense personal issues and even more intense love for each other, their personalities, way of thinking and chemistry are fascinating to me. the cuteness mixed with the heavier plot, the pacing, the smart writing, it's so nice. side note, binging both seasons at once wouldn't be that big of a challenge timewise in case you don't want a breather in between 😊 (gif from s1 because you can't watch them separately anyways)

Kieta Hatsukoi - a sweet light romcom for the most part, very entertaining, all of the characters are soo loveable, one of my all time fave girls in bl is here and she's everything <3 in regards to manga accuracy, the main events are all there but the order is all switched around yet the story still makes perfect sense! it's funny, it's sweet, Aoki and Ida are such an interesting pair and it's lovely seeing them figure out how to navigate this unexpected relationship

We Best Love: No. 1 For You - it's such a must watch! the passion these two have for each other and the chemistryyy will make you overlook the sheer absurdity of some of the plot; i also loved the 2 season format where the second season feels well planned, it's almost like one whole season cut in half. the emotional journey that Shu Yi and Shi De go on is so (melo)dramatic but also very touching because Sam and Yu act those emotions OUT, it's a pleasure just watching them interact (also Shu Yi is one of the few brats i adore dearly and i think it's not only because of the writing but Yu's incredible portrayal of the character)

Bad Buddy - i wasn't able to appreciate it for its wit because it was basically my first thai bl, i had no idea what expectations it was defying. nevertheless, i fell in love with it because it stands so well on its own! it's very funny, heartbreaking at times (reading analyses and meta on here made me realise how heavy the premise actually is) and insanely romantic (it caters to my idea of romance so well, the pining and protectiveness and flirting and devotion and-); also Pat and Pran have some amazing communication and mutual understanding, their bond is truly endearing and makes my heart ache if i think about it a bit too long

KinnPorsche - when it comes down to it, i am a very basic person. this show is just a ride, you gotta watch it for the pure entertanment value. there's always smth happening, that's for sure 😄of course chemistry, ofc handsome men all over the place yadayada but it'd be just that if not for the insane plotlines and humour, if you just accept that anything goes, you can have a blast with this show (but also hurt beautiful men finding comfort and love in a world of pain and betrayal>>)

Where Your Eyes Linger - though I can't make myself rewatch the heavier scenes, i love this one, the premise, the execution, it's all to my taste, the longing between these two is palpable (side note: i was getting emotional while searching for a gif but a bunch of the results were porn gifs so i was taken out of my feels multiple times lmao)

Utsukushii Kare - I'm way more normal about them now than before but this show truly makes you feel so many things, it's so smart and fantastic. Hira and Kiyoi's journey is beautiful and it embodies what i love seeing from japan's productions. they're just two lovely guys who are perfect for each other and shouldn't be let anywhere near the dating pool ❤️

Semantic Error - man, i love me some enemies to lovers, especially when both leads are Fools™️ for each other. the humour and pacing, the colourful side characters, Jaeyoung's charisma, his determination contrasting Sangwoo's inner battle..and, I know I'm becoming repetitive, the chemistry! there's a reason my guys won awards js

The End of the World with You - this show drove me insane, it's more of a one-time watch imo but i'm saying this because I was very focused on the main couple and they were what kept me watching (plus the suspense of course); it's a heavy heavy premise with the most controversial couple on this list but somehow it felt very light and exciting for the most part. I think their unconventional surroundings account for it, you don't get the typical chaos an apocalyptic show would display, it kind of feels calm even and it allows you to focus on the interpersonal relationships between the characters rather than on the expected terrors. the show fascinated me with the amazing acting and the dynamic between Ritsu and Masumi, I have a special spot for them <33 (no photo cause the limit was reached lol)

because deciding on faves is hard i'll leave this list at 10 shows, consider these just 10 of the many shows that are important to me in some way 💓

hopefully i suggested mostly things you haven't seen yet (though I went quite basic) <3 i need to know what you think of the shows, okay? and in case they don't do it for you (or, even better, they do and you come to trust me lol) feel perfectly welcome to send me some info about what you (don't) enjoy in terms of genre, tropes, episode length, actors etc.etc. and i'll dive into my lists hahah, it's super fun for me 💗

#thank you sm for the ask and sorry for both taking long and not making too interesting of a list #i promise im better when i dont have to look into my own tastes and just have to match data lol #ps hopefully you saw my post last night i stand behind those recs as well 😂 #petri replies

[starburstdragon]

BNHA Class 1-A Hero Costume Review (Part 1?)

next

In which I review the first 10 of 1-A’s hero costumes from the BNHA anime by seat order and based on 2 criteria:

1. How practical do I think it is

2. How good do I personally think it looks

If this gets a good response I might do more idk. Real post under cut out of courtesy because y’all don’t need to scroll for 30 years

Seat 1: Yuga Aoyama

The armor is a practical thought for an occupation where you could experience anything from “guy with knife” to “someone is throwing you through multiple buildings at once”, but the execution leaves something to be desired in that department. However, the way the armor augments his quirk and also just generally looks fucking slaps. I would want the cape to be more golden rather than blue, if I were going to keep it (Edna Mode has a point, but it does suit him) for a bit of cohesion between it and the accents on the armor, or I would had some more blue accents on the armor. The glasses do not work in the slightest and would require a complete reworking in order for me to even consider the possibility

Seat 2: Mina Ashido

The colors work really well for her, in my opinion, and the boots are both cute and practical. However, the vest does not do enough to bring interest to the outfit’s silhouette for me, and the lack of chest support makes it look incredibly uncomfortable to perform activities in. Exposing her chest like that also makes me worry more about people bringing knives. Overall, I would suggest turning her main one piece into pants and a top that at least has something over her shoulders to help provide physical support.

Seat 3: Tsuyu Asui

The colors are good and the color blocking works well. Honestly, the primary issue I have here (which I also have with Mina’s design, but I had more to talk about there) is that the art itself is misrepresenting how a skin tight outfit of this sort would look-- it looks like a pocket was made in the outfit for her chest, which would be impractical. If you look up women in wetsuits (which is what I assume this is) even the ones posing to be sexier have less prominent chests than this because the wetsuit provides support and a certain amount of streamlining to the figure. Other skin tight outfits would look similar irl.

Seat 4: Tenya Ida

Considering the speeds this guy is going at, an outfit like this that provides higher defense without compromising his ability to move is incredibly practical. Obviously cannot protect against a well aimed knife, even with the helmet he is sometimes shown wearing, but does a much better job than most of his classmates’ costumes. My primary concern with the practicality is the friction that might be put on his shoes when he’s using his quirk, which could be resolved with heelies or skates. Also the colors are well unified and none of them are ugly.

Seat 5: Ochaco Uraraka

The colors and the positions thereof are cute and she’s not wearing gloves that would negatively impact her quirk use but you can see her belly button through the outfit. I am appalled. Literally just erase the shadow indicating her belly button and it would be good.

Seat 6: Mashirao Ojiro

His outfit is fine for the type of combat he focuses on and the little ruff on the one part of his shirt is cute but it’s not really all that distinctive. I am not a martial artist so I don’t really have any solid suggestions on what could be done to make it look flashier while maintaining its practicality but I think if the pattern from the boots showed up a few other places on the outfit thatd look neat

Seat 7: Denki Kaminari

I love him dearly but he looks like if someone got hired to design a yugioh character but only knew how to draw normal people clothes

Seat 8: Eijro Kirishima

The red could be redder in some places but that’s a nitpick. Honestly I get that his quirk is basically innate armor but that’s no reason to tempt fate, put on a shirt. Either someone is going to stab him in the back when he isn’t looking or he’s going to get a sunburn.

Seat 9: Koji Koda

He is dressed like ketchup and mustard I am sorry. Also I think he is going to skin his knees. Also also the pattern on his shirt is worrying to me

Seat 10: Rikido Sato

He is also dressed like a mustard, and also a skin tight suit would not work that way. I am sobbing into my hands Horikoshi

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #aoyama yuuga #mina ashido #asui tsuyu #tenya lida #uraraka ochako #ojiro mashirao #denki kaminari #kirishima eijirou #koda koji #sato rikido #ace can't speak

[geekgirles]

Your Heart

Chapter 8 -- Aftershocks

Word Count: 13482

READ ON AO3

Margaret’s quarters had to be one of the most glamourous in the entire manor. Designed to be a duplex, it consisted of two different spacesーthree, if you count the bathroomーthe lower floor held the living room, and the higher one was where the Council member’s actual bedroom was. 

The living room resembled that of a wealthy family’s. A deep red velvet hue gave a touch of colour to the walls, which were decorated by several portraits revealing pieces of contemporary art. Now, Sam loved going to museums and culture in general, but she couldn’t identify what the artists had tried to portray to save her life. When asking about the meaning of one of the paintings, Margaret once told her it was an allegory to the passage of time. How could a smear of red, a blue smudge, and a black, straight line mean any of that she had no idea.

Questionable taste in decor aside, Margaret’s quarters also consisted of a parquet flooring that always seemed to have been recently varnished, so shiny and clean one could eat from it. Just from a small glimpse at her room, one could guess the older witch had a weakness for rococo furniture; a set of golden couches and chairs with cream upholstery was scattered around the place. A backless seat was in front of the piano at the far corner of the room, a loveseat could be seen located under a particularly large painting, Sam and Margaret were both seated, one in front of the other, on two chairs…

Ironically for someone as elegant and graceful as Margaret, all her plants were made of plastic. Grandma Ida had once told her in confidence the clan’s best spellcaster was also the worst gardener she’d ever seen. According to her grandma, when Margaret was still just a witch in training her teachers ended up forbidding her from getting near to their supplies of mandrake; she always killed them all and the plant was very difficult to find. 

At the far corner of the room, to the side of the piano, a white staircase with a golden banister led to the Council member’s room. What secrets her bedroom held, however, Sam didn’t know. Margaret was very particular about who she let in on her personal life, and bedrooms were extremely personal. 

Which was enough of a hint to understand she hadn’t been called just to chat and have some tea with her. “Your Majesty,” Margaret broke her out of her musings and from inspecting her personal chambers, “I understand you already know why I have summoned you here, correct?”

Even when she was about to scold her, the older witch always looked like the epitome of grace and dignity. They were currently seated on two of her rococo chairs, which Sam had to admit, were pretty but not necessarily comfortable; a coffee table with a porcelain tea set alongside different types of biscuits, scones (a favourite of Margaret since she spent some time abroad in London in her youth), and sandwiches were in full display in between the two. 

Knowing how seriously Margaret took table manners, Sam put her teacup on its respective plate before delicately placing both down on the coffee table. “I have an inkling as to why that might be.”

The African-American woman’s perfect posture never faltered. “In that case, I will get straight to the point: sending Miss Baker and Miss Zhou back home while you were left alone with the Ghost King was unbelievably unwise.”

Sam couldn’t help but wince when Margaret’s forest green eyes laid on her, an icy quality to them. “I understand your concern, Margaret, believe me, I do, but…”

“‘But?’” Margaret cut her off, raising an eyebrow as her cup of tea was halfway to her mouth. “Your Majesty, in case you forgot, you are our queen. Amity Park clan’s leader. Dozens of women depend on you for guidance. Your sole presence keeps us from going to war over the throne!”

Unable to hear the same things over and over, the young queen turned her head to the side, as if pained by her words. “I know, I know.” She raised a hand to silence her. “Margaret, you needn’t remind me the very reason why I even stepped up to become queen. Keeping the clan from succumbing to chaos and honouring my grandmother are my main motivations for everything I do.”

“You and me both know that, my Queen.” Margaret conceded, stirring her second cup of tea. “But that does not change the fact that what you did was foolish. However, I also know that you never do anything without reason, so I am willing to hear it.”

With a gesture of her hand, she motioned for Sam to explain herself. Sighing, the violet-eyed girl did just that. “I know my life is precious, but the circumstances were dire and even now I can’t shake the feeling that it’s a miracle I’m even alive.”

“Forgive me, your Majesty. But I fail to see how that is helping your case.” The green-eyed woman pointed out. Deep down she knew Sam probably had a good reason for doing what she did, but as second-in-command, it was her duty to ensure their queen never made a mistake like that ever again. 

“I’m getting there, I promise.” Sam hastily said. 

With a nod, Margaret gestured for her to continue. “I don’t feel comfortable putting my safety before others’ just because of my position.” She finished, and even Margaret’s stoic mask cracked a little at the revelation. “Stephanie and Susan were with me, Margaret. They were in as much danger as I was, I couldn’t risk their lives like that.”

“Miss Zhou and Miss Baker both volunteered to escort you to your visits to the Ghost Zone, your Majesty.” Her fellow Council member reminded her in between sips. “Had anything happened to them, they were just doing their job.”

“And I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing their loyalty would force them to pay such a high price.” 

Margaret was about to take another sip of her tea when Sam’s solemn words made her eyes widen. Looking over at her, she noticed her tense posture, her stiff shoulders, her slim fingers clutching tightly at the fabric of her black and purple plaid skirt...And the resolution in her eyes. The older witch could’ve sworn she saw the same fire that was so characteristic of her grandmother in Sam’s violet gaze. 

Unaware of the reaction she’d caused to the woman in front of her, Sam went on. “I’m the queen, Margaret. It’s my duty to make sure our people are safe. How do you expect me to just leave them behind, not knowing if they’ll even make it alive!? Even if the black hole had been taken care of without my assistance and they would’ve been safe from it, how do we know the ghosts wouldn’t have taken advantage of the chaos to attack them?! 

“Even if I have a feeling King Phantom would’ve tried to protect them, it was still too risky. I would never have been able to live with myself if anything had happened to them because, somehow, my life’s more important than theirs!”

Setting her now cold teacup down, the African-American witch clasped her hands together on her lap. She regarded the young queen with a face that betrayed no emotion. “Your Majesty, you do realise every single one of your points can also be applied to your own situation, right? Just like Miss Baker and Miss Zhou could have been in danger at the hands of the ghosts, so could have you. Except an attempt against your life would be grounds for going to war.”

Knowing she was right, Sam averted her gaze to the side. Suddenly that one painting with the impossible-to-understand analogy on the passage of time seemed much more interesting than ten minutes ago. 

Margaret sighed as she stood up. Her high heels clicking against the parquet, she hovered over Sam, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Samantha, I know choosing what is best for our people is hard, especially if it comes into conflict with our personal beliefs and desires, but duty must come first.”

The young sorceress started at the sound of her full name. She really hated being called ‘Samantha’, but knew that was the most personal Margaret would ever get with her, so it'd only be rude of her to complain. “I know,” she sighed dejectedly. “I know, it’s just...I can’t just do that to them! Susan is still just a teenager; no matter how good of a potion-maker and warrior she is, she’s still too young. She has so much to live, I can’t afford to make her miss out on all that for my sake…”

“But what about Miss Baker? I believe you two are the same age; you both still have so much to live, as well.”

“You mean Stephanie still has so much to live for. I gave up on that a long time ago…” Sam couldn’t resist the urge to scoff. 

Even if all witches had to make compromises to balance their lives inside and outside of the coven, Sam’s entire life had revolved around giving up on one passion after the other. Growing up she couldn’t make friends because other girls weren’t allowed to go near the queen’s granddaughter. Her world was reduced to the manor and her house, to her family and her teachers, to her lessons and the very scarce moments where she could pretend she was a kid like any other. After her grandma died, under the threat of her coven falling into anarchy until they found a new leader, she sacrificed her one chance at a relatively normal life in exchange of being elected the future queen. For four years her extensive studying and isolation were self-imposed; the only times she allowed herself to take a break where her birthday ーso her dad wouldn’t get suspicious as to what was so important she couldn’t celebrate her own birthdayーand the anniversary of her grandma’s death; because there was no way she’d ever have the energy to work on the most painful day of the year. And now that she was queen, every waking moment was dedicated to looking after her people.

Stephanie was just a shy girl who loved books. Between the two of them, she was the only one who really had a chance at experiencing life outside of the manor’s walls. And Sam refused to be the reason why she lost that chance. 

Understanding dawning on her, Margaret’s face softened. “Your motives were noble, my Queen, and I am sure the Baker and Zhou families are extremely grateful for having their children returned to them. Just try to keep in mind that with great power comes great responsibility, and more often than not, that means making sacrifices for the greater good.”

As the spellcaster went back to her chair, Sam could only stare after her like she’d just nonchalantly revealed the meaning of life to her. “...did you just quote Spider-Man?”

Picking her teacup back up, she just chuckled in amusement. “I am a woman of culture, your Majesty. Now, pour yourself another cup of tea or help yourself to some snacks, before it gets cold.”

Reaching over for the kettle to pour some more tea on her cup at the same time as she started munching on a vegetarian sandwich, a comfortable silence settled between them. The only sounds disturbing the quiet atmosphere were the occasional sound of sipping and of plates clattering. In the midst of the silence, Sam’s mind couldn’t help but race back to the moment right after Phantom stopped the blackhole. 

She wasn’t lying when she told Margaret she believed he wouldn’t have let anything happen to Susan and Stephanie, for her own protection seemed to be one of his top priorities. That and their last interaction before she returned to Earth had been replaying inside her head over the last several hours. 

As she and Phantom stared at each other, unbeknownst to them, both thinking that they could indeed make things work as long as they worked together, Sam’s mind unexpectedly wandered to uncharted territory. Now that she was looking at him up close, a part of her had to agree with all the fangirls who’d squeal every time Phantom appeared on TV; he was quite handsome. 

It was undeniable that the Ghost King’s defined physique was anything but hard on the eyes. She didn’t know what it was, but something about himーmaybe the inches he had on her, or maybe the way he’d pressed her close to his chest earlier when he was trying to put her to safety, or maybe the intensity of his neon green eyesーmade her feel safe. 

Now that they weren’t separated by a large table and a few feets of distance, Sam could appreciate his chiseled jaw and how his Adam’s apple moved up and down when he gulped, sending a heatwave straight to her very core. His intoxicating eyes no longer looked at her with suspicion and disdain, but with gratefulness and with a candour whose origins she couldn’t quite identify, and at that very moment she was sure nothing would’ve been able to get her to tear her own violet gaze away from them. His shock-white hair alongside his characteristically ghostly glowーthat glow she used to interpret as a warning sign; a reminder of his true natureーall of a sudden made him look ethereal, otherworldly. Like a guardian from beyond sent to protect everyone from evil. Like...Like…

Like an angel.

And his lips...Oh, God. They were so inviting. The mere thought of kissing those lips was incredibly exhilarating. From where she stood, Sam could already imagine his lips on hers, coming together in a slow, passionate dance; their touch so rough and yet so gentle; both breathing her to life and leaving her breathless; and the way he was moving them at that very moment only helped in further cementing her beliefsーwait a minute. They were moving?

“Lady Arcana, are you okay?” Phantom asked, even though he looked a little out of sorts himself. “Your face is a little red. Should we have someone check it out?”

“No!” Sam exclaimed a little too quickly and a little too loudly, shaking her hands before her and already feeling the scorching heat on her cheeks. She barely resisted the urge to facepalm herself. What was she thinking?! Drooling over Phantom? Fantasising with kissing him?! Did she lose her mind?! Maybe he wasn’t as bad as she originally believedーshe was still debating on itーbut he was still a ghost. And ghosts and witches didn’t mix, especially like that. Hell, not even when they were still allies did a ghost and a witch ever end up together!

Noticing the Ghost King staring at her quizzically, the witch cleared her throat in an attempt to appear nonchalant. “I mean, no; I’m fine, really. Probably just a little affected from all the excitement.” Averting her gaze, she jerked her thumb behind her. “I, uh, I should probably go back to my people. They’re probably recruiting an army to come and save me as we speak.” She laughed it off weakly. 

Phantom’s eyes shot open at that. “Oh, right! Yeah, it’ll probably be for the best. Wouldn’t want to start a war over a misunderstanding…” He rubbed the back of his neck as he, too, looked away. “I...I’ll let you be.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for saving me.” Sam told him, missing the way his eyes softened at her words. She put a little distance between the two, ready to cast the spell that would send her home, when Phantom’s voice stopped her in her tracks. Turning around, she raised an eyebrow at him, “What?”

“Are there going to be any more meetings after this?” He asked. “I mean, after this whole fiasco, I wouldn’t blame you if you decided to call it quits…”

In spite of herself, the young witch couldn’t help but give him a small smile. “We still need to solve the portal problem, don’t we?” Then, she smirked. “You won’t get rid of me that easily, Phantom!”

The relieved expression he sent her way sent her heart aflutter. Feeling the blush coming back, she hastily turned around once more, ready to leave. “Well, until next time!” Again, she was getting ready to leave when Phantom’s voice stopped her.

“Wait, Lady Arcana!”

“Yes?”

“I...u-uh,...well…” He stuttered before taking a deep breath. “Thank you for saving me, too.”

Against her better judgement, Sam’s expression softened. “You’re welcome, Phantom.” Finally, she focused on her anima, willing a purple light to engulf her as she chanted, “Omnes viae Romam ducunt.”

She could almost feel how every individual cell in her body separated before being rearranged again. The tingling sensation was similar to when she’d phased through Phantom’s lair, except it was warm rather than chilly. Spellcasting felt like being cocooned in a thousand blankets inside your home during a particularly cold winter night, while the sensation brought by ghost powers was akin to sticking your head into the freezer when it was 104 º outside. 

Both experiences were incredibly pleasant, albeit drastically different from one another.

When Sam opened her eyes, everything was mayhem. 

She’d arrived in the middle of the Grand Hall inside 917 Maplestreet, and every single witch present was looking straight at her. Judging from their positionsーsome had risen from their seats, their hands slamming the tables; others had their arms raised as if making suggestions or waiting for their turns to speak up; a few were arguing amongst themselves…ー, she’d just interrupted a council meeting. Most likely to discuss her current situation. 

Oh, great. 

“Your Majesty!” A voice cried out, and Sam almost fell back upon impact, for someone had slammed into her chest with great force, almost knocking the wind out of her. 

Looking down, she realised the iron grip she suddenly found herself in belonged to none other than Susan. The poor thing was sobbing and hiccuping uncontrollably against her chest. Automatically, Sam put her own arms around her in an attempt to sooth her. With how fierce and disciplined she usually was, it was easy to forget she was, technically, still a kid. She had much to learn before she became completely desensitised to the world’s horrors. 

“It’s fine, Susan.” The queen soothed, caressing her hair. “I’m fine.”

Right at that moment, the room erupted in a row of applause and cheering, alongside many questions directed her way. Before Sam could so much as tell them to speak one at a time, she felt something being discreetly slipped under her dress. Turning her head to the side in surprise, she found herself face to face with Stephanie. “Welcome home, your Majesty. I am so glad you have returned.”

When the strawberry blonde winked at her, Sam understood everything. Steph had taken advantage of the current chaos, and of her tied up skirt, to return Arcana’s Grimoire to her. Sam couldn’t help but smile; she was worth much more than people often gave her credit for. 

Paulina and Star almost tripped over themselves trying to reach her. Rushing to her side, both simultaneously looking panicked and relieved beyond belief, the moment they reached her side they started fussing about her personal care, promising to prepare a warm bubble bath immediately.

“Your Majesty!” Paulina exclaimed in between pants, “You have no idea how glad we are that you’re back!”

“Totally,” Star agreed beside her friend, nodding but equally winded. “One minute Pauli was trash-talking Ms. Gorilla, and the next news reached us that you hadn’t returned from the Ghost Zone!”

“I’m sorry,” a sultry voice from behind startled them, while Sam shook her head in pity, anticipating what was to come, “you were doing what?” Delilah asked the two ladies-in-waiting sharply, her unforgiving eyes narrowed on them.

The Witch Queen could only roll her eyes knowingly at the way Paulina and Star flinched upon noticing the shapeshifter heard them. ‘Ms. Gorilla’, as Star helpfully supplied when they were assigned to her upon becoming the clan leader, was a moniker Paulina had come up with at the height of her jealousy towards the stunning Council member. Sam, despite her love for animals and nature, hadn’t noticed until they pointed it out, but Delilah shared her name with the famous Purple Back Gorilla that was discovered to be female by a high school student working on extra credit back when she was fourteen. 

The thing is, as good-natured and laid-back as Delilah could be, she did not appreciate being compared to such a majestic creature. “I’m waiting, Miss Anderson. What did you say you were doing before you heard the news?”

From where she stood, still being held by Susan’s iron grip, Sam could see how Star was beginning to sweat. The blonde usually didn’t have trouble saying what she thought of others, even if it was mean-spirited or uncalled for, but even she knew it was foolish to anger another witch, especially when her position was much higher than hers. 

Squirming under the shapeshifter’s harsh glare, the handmaiden couldn’t do anything but stutter. “Uh...um...w-well...we...we were…and the...the gorilla...b-but then...” She trailed off, luckily for her, Paulina chose that very moment to jump in on the conversation. 

“We were just talking about the new gorilla-inspired fashion collection!” The Latina lied and, if you listened closely, you could hear the way her already pronounced accent thickened. Paulina was a good liar, but even she sometimes had trouble working under pressure. “It’s absolutely fabulous! Almost as much as your blouse,” she complimented as she reached out to touch the fabric, “Is it new?”

Unamused, Delilah decided against pushing the issue...for now. Gently swatting the Latina’s hand away from her clothes, she directed a much kinder expression towards Sam. “It’s good to have you back, my Queen. We were worried sick for your safety.”

The violet-eyed queen smiled in return. “It’s good to be back.”

Suddenly, an imposing voice made itself heard from the other side of the room. Heads snapping to the origin of the sound, everyone’s eyes landed on Margaret standing with her hands behind her back by the entrance. She looked as poised and collected as usual.

Somehow, Sam knew she was in for a world of trouble. 

“Your Majesty,” Margaret began, and her voice commanded such respect a pin drop could be heard in the middle of the previously loud room, “you have no idea how grateful we are for your safe return. If what Miss Zhou and Miss Baker told us is true,” both witches at her side sent their queen an apologetic look, “then you must be exhausted. Please, after you’re well-rested, come tomorrow to my personal chambers.” She ordered, because she didn’t even ask for an answer, before turning away. Just as she was about to leave the room, she called out over her shoulder, “We have much to discuss.”

Oh, yeah. She was indubitably, thoroughly screwed. 

Her instincts were proven correct the moment she was given the third degree by the woman in front of her. As she pondered Margaret’s previous words, however, a question materialised itself inside Sam’s mind. 

Furrowing her brow, she called out to her fellow Council member. “Margaret?”

“Yes, your Majesty?”

“You said we more often than not have to make sacrifices in the name of the greater good, even if it goes against our personal beliefs and desires…” she started carefully, looking down at her cup. “Have you ever had to sacrifice something you cared deeply about or wanted desperately for the sake of the coven?”

For a moment, the silence had returned, only it now hung heavily over them, when just a few minutes it’d been comfortable. After a few minutes had passed and she still received no answer, Sam was about to ask again when Margaret finally answered. “Yes, I have.”

Her head shooting at her uncharacteristically lifeless voice, Sam almost gasped. Before her, Margaret wore the saddest expression she’d ever seen of her face. Her deep, green eyes, usually so vibrant and full of colour, were now bleak and devastated, reminiscent of a forest after a wildfire. The otherwise calm and collected Council member now looked heartbroken and desolate, like a piece of her was missing. Margaret certainly wasn’t crying, but she seemed so miserable Sam could feel tears of her own stinging her eyes. 

“I...I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

“Uh...right! O-of course. Don’t worry.” The lavender-eyed witch hastily said, too shell shocked to be more eloquent. Margaret never used contractions when talking to her. 

Margaret acknowledged her with a respectful nod of her head. “Thank you, your Majesty.” Then she went back to drinking her tea. 

Deciding it’d be best to imitate her and pretend nothing had happened, Sam couldn't help but wonder what might’ve happened to Margaret to make her so miserable. But above all else, she could only hope she’d never have to sacrifice the same thing. Somehow, she had a feeling death would be less painful.

...........

The forest in the outskirts of Amity Park could be described as anything but a walk in the park. The tree trunks knotted and twisted, forming shapes made out of the stuff of nightmares. The wind rustling the leaves sounded like a ghostly wail, not unlike Danny’s, albeit much quieter. That only made it more sinister. And the sound of twigs, dead leaves, and fallen tree branches crunching beneath had him frantically looking around for the slightest sign of danger. Since it was mid-October, nearing Halloween, the weather was beginning to change as well. For instance, temperatures were starting to drop from the cool yet warm ones that reigned during late September, and the first fall rainstorm hit the town just the night before.

And since it’d just rained the night before, that meant Tucker was now stepping on mud. He was stepping on mud with his new boots on. He was stepping on mud and getting his new boots that cost him a fortune, mind you, dirty. Already irritated and spooked beyond belief, he called out to the person walking in front of him, “Care to remind me why the fuck I didn’t turn you down on your invitation to, and I quote, ‘a fun fieldtrip?’”

Stopping momentarily to look over her shoulder, Jazz scolded him, “Language.” With that out of the way, she turned her head back around and kept on walking through the forest. “And to answer your question, you agreed to come with me because you want to help Danny as much as I do.” 

Tucker rolled his eyes, taking advantage of her back, turned to him, and followed her close behind. “Yeah, that I know. What I mean to say is, how is hiking aimlessly around the woods going to do anything to help Danny?!”

They’d been trekking around that damned forest for three hours, with absolutely nothing to guide them but an old, probably outdated, map some ranger had given to Jazz back at the information booth. Three hours wandering around a forest that was creepier than Mr. Lancer’s ‘sculptured summer physique’ back in summer camp, and the most resting they’d done was when Jazz would suddenly halt to check the map or crouch down to get some samples. 

Just like she was doing at that very moment. “Look at this, Tucker. Ocimum basilicum!” She reached her hand out to show it to him before putting it inside a little glass jar. She brought the jar close to her face. “Did you know in Christianity this plant is said to have sprouted when Jesus’ blood fell to the ground?”

“No, I didn’t know that.” The technopath said, unimpressed. “What I do know is that Ocimum basilicum and basil are the exact same thing! Care to tell me why you’re so transfixed on a mere spice? As much as I love myself a good pizza, even I have to admit this is just ridiculous.”

Sliding her backpack across her shoulder, the redhead put away the basil. With that taken care of, she sent her friend a bored look, standing up from the floor and coming to stand beside him. “It’s important because it’sー.”

“‘It’s going to help Danny.’” Tucker finished for her, doing a poor impression of her voice. “You said that over a million times already! Can you at least tell me how it’s going to help Danny?”

Jazz looked away, sulking. “Because...because it just is, okay?! Trust me, Tucker, I know what I’m doing.”

But the African American young man wasn’t buying it. That answer was far too childish, especially coming from someone like Jazz, who’d been acting like someone twice her age for almost as long as he could remember. Something was definitely off. 

“But what could it be?” He asked himself as they resumed their march. She said she knew what she was doing, and that was all great and dandy, except he had no idea what they were doing! He was the technician of the team, his specialty were computers, viruses, and thwarting technology-dependent ghosts’ plans! He was not made to hike, looking for God knows what, in the middle of a forest! 

And Jazz?! He barely held back a scoff. No matter how much more physically adept than him she was, the eldest Fenton was no field agent, either. For years, her way of assisting Danny in ghost-hunting had been through research, bringing back-up,helping work out the tricky details in their plans, now she was obsessed with finding out more about the witches…

Wait a minute. 

Tucker stopped dead in his tracks, fists curled at his sides and a very angry glare directed at the back of the head of his best friend’s older sister appeared on his face. “You dragged me here to help you research witches and avoid Danny’s wrath.”

It wasn’t a question and she knew it. Wincing at the, accurate, accusation, the redhead turned around slowly. “I...I have no idea what you’re talking about…” She tried playing dumb. 

In an instant, Tucker got in her face, wagging a chastising finger at her. “Oh, don’t you dare play innocent, little missy! You might have been able to fool your parents all these years, but that’s only because they’re surprisingly gullible. You can’t fool me; we’re here to research witches aren’t we?”

Looking down on the floor, Jazz ultimately gave in, sighing. “Yes, we are.”

“And I’m guessing Danny knows nothing about this which is why; first, you went out of your way to organise this on my free day, which, for the record, also happens to be the day Danny’s schedule is packed; second, you wouldn’t tell me why we’re here; and third, you’re just picking random things up, because not even you know what you’re looking for.” 

She bit her lip, knowing she’d been caught. She always forgot how observant Tucker could be. “Maybe?”

“Jazz!” 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?!” She snapped. “I know I shouldn’t have lied to you or Danny, but I just can’t sit idly by and watch as he enters the lion’s den, completely unprepared!” She stepped closer to Tucker, looking him dead in the eye. “You know Danny, Tucker. He shoulders everything and refuses to let us help. Please, you have to understand; I have to help my little brother.”

Looking down at her pleading eyes, the techno geek’s own teal orbs softened. He did understand. He really wished Danny would let them help more often. It was just painful watching him come back looking like death, knowing he’d been sticking his neck out for a town that didn’t always appreciate him, and not being able to do much because even then he was protecting them. 

It was maddening, really. 

Sighing, he grabbed Jazz by her shoulders, trying to show her just how much he understood her plight. “Listen, I know how you feel. You know I know how you feel. But we gotta make sure us going behind Danny’s back will really be for his own good. We can’t just wander aimlessly with no real plan in mind! Never mind how good our intentions are.” Seeing as she only stared at him, unblinkingly, he sighed and let her go. “Face it, Jazz. We’re about as lost as Danny when it comes to witches.”

He was sure what he said would be discouraging, hence why he didn’t understand the way her eyes lit up. “That’s where you’re wrong!” She exclaimed just as she started rummaging through her backpack. After a few seconds, she pulled a book out. “This is a book on plants, arthropods, and other ingredients traditionally used by witches in folklore. If we find a place where many of said ingredients grow or inhabit, we might know where to find them!”

“Right…” he drawled, he should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy to keep Jazz from her goal. “Because there’s no way a group of women from the 21st century have learned to grow or breed those things from the comfort of their homes.” He deadpanned in response. “Is that why we’re here? To look for a bunch of plants and insects?”

Her right hand still clutching the book close to her chest, the other hand fisted on her hip, Jazz sent him an irritated look. “As a matter of fact, I was thinking the witches’ lair could actually be around here.”

Tucker’s brows shot up at that. “What makes you think that?”

“Because it’s tradition!” She exclaimed, before pulling her phone out of her pocket and shoving it in his face. “Did you know Baba Yaga was said to inhabit the Russian forests?”

Glaring at her, he carefully got her phone out of his face. “Yeah...She was also said to be an old hag, with a blue nose, and a bone leg. Pretty sure the Witch Queen Danny meets up with is supposed to be quite the looker. So, try something else.”

Jazz pouted, before trying to come up with a theory that would please him. “Well, what if there are Russian witches in Amity Park? Maybe they stayed true to tradition, taking advantage of the locals’ ignorance to remain inconspicuous.”

“Nice theory,” he clapped sarcastically, “only one tiny, itsy, bitsy detail, though. I doubt the Cold War made it easy for Russian witches to move to the USA. Instead of putting them up to trial for being witches, they’d have been accused of being spies.”

She was beginning to get frustrated with Tucker’s lack of cooperation. Groaning, she snapped. “What do you suggest we do, then?!”

“How about get back to civilisation and forget all about this silly quest, huh?!” He snapped back, dramatically flailing his arms in the air in exasperation. Seriously, were all Fentons supposed to be stubborn to the point of idiocy? Didn’t they understand some things weren’t worth falling-outs and even their lives? He loved that family to death, but if he was going to die for them, he at least would like it to be because of something useful. 

Jazz just kept staring back at him, frowning in annoyance, before turning away from him in a huff. Tucker was about to call her out on her behaviour when she beat him to it. “I know I’m being difficult. I know I’m looking for things that aren’t there, but I just need to help Danny!” She whirled back around to look him in the eye, desperation clearly laced in her voice. “Please, Tucker. You have to understand.”

“Uh, no. Not that! Anything but that!” He cried, frantically covering his eyes with his hands. She was pleading, giving him the trademark Fenton, sad, puppy-dog look. The damned thing was so effective he was genuinely surprised it didn’t count as a persuasion technique. Peeking through his fingers, he chanced to look, only to close his eyes shut not long after. Nope, she was still doing that look. 

With a dismayed moan, he gave in after a while. “Fiiiiiine!” He groaned, only to subsequently send a glare at Jazz’s direction when he saw her fist-bumping from the corner of his eye. He quickly squared his posture, jabbing his finger against her chest. “But if Danny busts us, you’re explaining things to him!”

He so hated the way she was beaming at him, completely ignoring his threat. “No problem!” She then slapped his hand away, causing him to let out a sound of complaint. The grin had been replaced by an irritated frown. “If you ever touch my chest again, though, I’m going to blast you with the Fenton Ghost Peeler until your skin falls off and only your non-existent muscles remain.”

“Hey!” He began to protest against her comment, only to back-pedal when she sent him a withering glare in warning. “No touching your chest ever again. Got it.” He smiled sheepishly at her. When that seemed to please her, she turned her focus on her book, prompting Tucker to ask. “So, what now?”

“Now we look for evidence that proves the witches of Amity Park visit this place.” She replied, not looking up from her book. 

“No, I got that. I mean how are we going to do that?”

“Well, if witches really do need certain ingredients for their spells and potions, then I’d suggest we look for things that could possibly grow around here.” Jazz kept reading the paragraphs detailed in her book, turning pages at the speed of lightning. Stopping at a certain page, she tapped her chin with one finger as she pondered their options before showing the book to Tucker. “Do you think we could find some newts around here? They’re said to have been highly demanded as an ingredient for their eyes.”

Taking a look at the slimy creature pictured in the book, the techno geek recoiled in disgust. He couldn’t hold back a shudder before regaining his composure. “First of all,” he lifted his index finger in the air, “the closest lake in the area is Lake Eerie, a good three hours away from here. So I highly doubt we’ll be finding any newts any time soon.” He fiddled with his PDA before showing it to her, a map appearing on the screen. “And second, even if there were any lakes around here, there’s no way I’m gonna touch an amphibian. I’m a techno geek, not a biology geek. If you want help collecting those little guys, you’re going to have to ask Sam for help.”

That perked the redhead’s interest. “You mean the Manson heiress?” She asked, not missing a beat. Even if the topic of conversation had changed greatly, her focus was still on her book. If newts weren’t an option, something else had to be. She just had to find it. “Is it me, or is there something going on between her and Danny?”

Not one to resist some good gossip, especially when it was related to Danny’s love life, Tucker leaned in closer to Jazz, as if he were about to share a conspiratorial theory with her. “Oh, something is definitely going on. I haven’t seen Danny act so comfortably yet bashful around a girl since Valerie. As for Sam, let’s just say I don’t usually see her with other guys. Period. As a matter of fact…” Eyes snapping open, he trailed off. What Jazz had said about Sam finally catching up to him. 

The psychology understudy looked over at him in concern. Unlike her friend, she wasn’t one to gossip, but her little brother’s mental health and social life was something she cared deeply about. Moreso because the two aspects tended to go hand in hand. “Uh, Tucker? Is everything okay?”

“What did you just say?” He practically mumbled in a voice so low Jazz had to strain her ears to hear him. 

“Um,” she stammered, “I said, ‘is everything okay?’”

“No, no.” The African American man shook his head and hands, indicating that wasn’t what he meant. “Before that.”

“I literally said ‘uh, Tucker.’” She repeated, looking at him like he’d grown a second head or something. Did a branch fall on his head while they were hiking and she hadn’t noticed?

Oh, for the love of God...This was getting ridiculous! Did he have to spell it out for her? Scrubbing his face with one hand, growing frustrated, he tried one last time. “No, Jazz.” He gritted out as gently as possible. “I’m asking what you called Sam earlier.”

“You mean when I said ‘the Manson heiress?’” She raised an eyebrow in confusion. 

“Yes, that!” He exclaimed, before returning Jazz’s confused expression with one of his own. “What do you mean by that?”

“You really don’t know?” She asked in disbelief. Considering that, no, he really had no idea what she was even talking about, the technophile could only shake his head and wait for answers. “Oh! Wow...So turns out Danny isn’t the only person in Amity Park who doesn’t know!” She meant to mutter that part to herself, but her disbelief was so great she forgot to lower her voice, causing Tucker to hear her just fine. 

He didn’t know why, but the moment the Fenton girl’s aqua eyes landed on him, Tucker couldn’t help but feel he was being regarded with pity. The fact that she nervously rubbed her arm holding the book up and down while avoiding his gaze didn’t help matters any. “Um, you see...You know Sam’s name, right?”

That made him furrow his brow, not quite following. “Obviously,” he scoffed. “Her name’s Sam Manson. But how come her ID makes her an heiress?!”

“Because she’s not just a Manson,” Jazz corrected him gently, “she’s the only child of the Mansons.”

“Are you saying she’s related to that psycho serial killer?” He squeaked, rightfully freaked out. Deep down, however, he knew that couldn’t be right. Sure, Sam had a spooky taste in...everything, really. But she would never hurtーno, wait a minute. She could definitely inflict pain on others through elaborate and well-thought schemes. But she just couldn’t be related to a serial killer!

...or could she?

“What?!” The redhead gasped. “No, of course not! I’m saying she’s related to the Manson family,” when he was about to comment further, she stopped him with a raised hand, “as in, the descendants of Izzy Manson,” she stressed, annoyed; “the creator of the cellophane-wrapping machine used for chopsticks.”

Growing frustrated at Tucker’s blank face, she made an indecipherable sound at the back of her throat before snapping. “Darn it, Tucker! Rich, I’m saying she’s filthy, stinking rich!” She rolled her eyes when the techno geek’s jaw almost touched the floor. “Gosh! I swear, you’re even more hopeless than Danny!”

“Wait a minute, Sam is rich?!” He all but screeched. “How come she never told me?!”

Feeling sorry for him, she could only shrug in response, her previous aggravation gone. Honestly, she’d only met the girl once, and not even a prodigy like her would’ve been able to determine her thought process with just one session. “I don’t know. If I’m being honest, I’m a bit more surprised you never figured it out.”

That gave him pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...” she crossed her arms. How could she put this gently? “I mean, you’ve known her for a while, haven’t you?” Slowly, he nodded. “And you’re way more into the wealthy and powerful than Danny, and, come on, Sam’s an ultra-recyclo-vegetarian Goth.” She sent him a pointed look. “Goth clothing and vegetarian food aren’t cheap, you know.”

Tucker could only grimace, knowing she had a point. “I know who the Mansons are, but I’ve never seen Sam in any of the pictures taken of her family’s sophisticated parties. And, really, would you seriously take a look at her parents and go, ‘Yep, no doubt. These preppy, cheerful folks are definitely related to cynical, brooding Sam Manson.’” He defended himself, and judging by Jazz’s expression, he knew she concurred. Then, he added, almost as an afterthought, “And honestly, I legit thought she basically ate grass and mud, so…”

Sympathising with him, Jazz put a soothing hand on his shoulder, smiling kindly at him. At first he returned the gesture, before furrowing his brow in concentration. Something wasn’t right... “Wait, how do you know any of this? How do you even know Sam?”

“Ah, Danny and I ran into her and her dad last Saturday at that new Vegetarian Mexican restaurant.”

The bespectacled young man couldn’t do much but blink in astonishment. Then, suddenly, he let himself fall to his knees, crouching down before crossing his arms over his chest, pouting. “How can I possibly be that out of the loop?!”

Jazz flashed him a meek smile in response as she lowered herself to his level; literally. The tug in his lips turned into a full blown smirk as a devious thought came to him. “Was there UST between the two?”

The older girl let out a loud cackle at his question. “Oh, you have no idea!”

With a ‘hm’, he settled for a content smile that Jazz knew was only half-hearted. “That’s enough for me...for now.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Jazz, trying to joke, but the way she was looking at him made it clear she didn’t buy his attempts to lighten up the mood. 

“Why don’t you ask her yourself, huh?” She offered softly. “You speak so fondly of her, and she seemed to know you well enough when we talked about you the other day. I’m sure she’ll come clean to you if you let her know you feel hurt over not knowing who she is.”

Normally he hated when Jazz psychoanalysed the situation, more so if it involved him. But now he couldn’t help but feel grateful for having the eldest Fenton’s advice and support. “Yeah, I...I think I’ll do that.” He smiled at her. “Thanks.”

She smiled back, “You’re welcome.” The quiet atmosphere soon dissipated when she got back up on her feet as she dusted herself off. “Well, we’d better find something that’ll hint us on the witches’ hideout!”

Getting up from the ground as well, Tucker watched as Jazz pulled out the map from her backpack at the same time as she leafed through her book using just her thumb, that girl’s ability to multitask was both impressive and unnerving. She was clearly searching for a clue to get them started on their quest. Rolling his eyes fondly at her, he started fidgeting with his PDA, looking for clues of his own through the best way he knew; technology. 

Printed books and maps were fine and all, but it didn’t take long for them to become outdated. With the Internet and his trusty PDA, Tucker always had the latest information in the palm of his hand. Literally. As his eyes scanned over dozens of articles from the day before to several decades prior, his eyes landed on one story in particular. 

Gasping, he called out to Jazz. The girl looked up from her own research to see Tucker motioning for her to come closer with his hand. Curious, she did just that. The moment she was within touching distance, he handed the PDA to her. “Look!”

She squinted her eyes on the screen. What appeared  was an old newspaper article, around thirty years old. When she read it over, however, her eyes widened. “Is this what I think it is?” She whispered in disbelief, as she turned to Tucker, who was smirking. 

“You’d better believe it!” Snatching the device from her hands, he began scrolling down and zooming in on certain fragments of the article. “It’s a news segment dedicated to two rangers’ retelling!” He exclaimed, his eyes not once looking away from the screen. “According to them, a few days before the interview with the newspaper, they were patrolling around the woods when they came upon what appeared to be a garden entirely made up of mandrake! Which took them aback because, first, that was a restricted area to the public; and second, mandrake usually grows in Mediterranean weather!

“Since it was getting late, they decided to investigate the following day first thing in the morning. But when they tried getting to the garden, they found they couldn’t. Somehow, whenever they thought they were getting closer, they kept getting lost and further away, something that was odd because they’d both been working as rangers, walking through the woods, for more than twenty years!” He finished, looking far more excited at the prospect of their research than he’d been before. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Her hands clasped in front of her beaming face, Jazz could only nod eagerly. “Mandrake is one of the plants that are most popularly associated with witches and magic, and the rangers kept getting lost because they’d found a patch of mandrake and the witches wanted to keep them away in order to protect their secret!”

“And you said Internet searches were only going to lead us to Satanist sites.” He flashed her a shit-eating grin, feeling proud of himself. 

“Ugh, knock it off!” She playfully shoved him away, before growing serious again. Her joy being replaced by uncertainty. “Just a question, though?”

“What?”

“How are we going to find this mandrake patch? It’s been over thirty years! And if the witches were able to make two seasoned rangers wander aimlessly through the forest, what chances do we have of finding it ourselves?”

Tucker opened his mouth, only to close it again, realising he didn’t have an answer to her question. Yep, that could definitely be a problem. “Well, the rangers didn’t know they were facing off against a group of spellcasting women; we do.” He tried steering the conversation in the right direction. “What do we know about witches?” She was about to speak when he cut her off, “ Aside from the obvious.”

Bringing a fist to her chin, Jazz began to revise everything she’d learned on them ever since Danny shared his latest plan with them. “Hm, Danny said witches used to be able to summon ghosts from the Ghost Zone and make them cross over to Earth. Does that mean anything to you?”

“Hm, it might.” Tucker replied, the gears already turning in his head. “You know how every ghost has its own ecto-signature?”

“Yeah?”

“What if the witches have something like that?” He suggested, his mind already focused on the possibilities. 

Jazz gasped, her eyes widening at the possibility. “Then maybe we could create our own version of the ghost radar, except that instead of ghosts, it’d latched onto a witch’s own signature!” She added, practically bouncing up and down.

“That way, we could lead the radar to someplace with a particularly strong magical signature, and therefore guide us to the mandrake patch without getting lost!” Tucker continued, equally excited. 

“Which would then allow us to track any witch that comes to the garden.” Jazz said.

“And eventually lead us to their hideout!” Tucker finished. The two of them high-fived the other, reeling from the revelation. They were so hyped they almost forgot to address the most important part of the plan.

“So,” Tucker started, slipping his PDA back in his pocket. “What about Danny? Do we tell him about this?”

Against her better judgement, Jazz shook her head. “No. I believe it’d be best if we don’t.”

“Are you sure?” Tucker raised an eyebrow. “Arguably, this affects him much more than it does us.”

“I know, but we need to give him an edge over the witches. An ace up his sleeve! Something to use as leverage if the queen ultimately turns against him.” She explained. “Telling him of our plan before we even have a clue would only make things more difficult for him.” Noticing Tucker’s unsure expression, she rushed to reassure him. “I promise, the moment we know where they gather, we’ll tell him. Okay?”

Tucker didn’t look convinced. Excluding Danny in something this important just felt wrong! But, on second thought, Jazz was his older sister; she’d been taking care of and protecting him long before she learned about the accident. Jazz was always looking out for her baby brother’s best interests. Sighing, he gave in. “Okay.”

“Thank you, Tucker.” She grinned in appreciation before she looked down at her phone and noticed the time. “Now, come on! We still have to get back before Danny finishes his classes and notices we’re nowhere to be found. We don’t want him to get suspicious, do we?”

As he followed her back through the way they’d come from, Tucker could only hope their decision wouldn't bite them in the ass. 

..........

“Remind me again why we’re here?”

“Because we needed to meet up and the You Mocha Me Crazy was closed today.” Tucker smirked smugly at her from the seat across from her; a mixture of grease and sauce dripping from his fingertips. “My, what a tragedy!” He lamented in mock sadness. 

Her body leaned forward and her elbow propped up on the wobbly table, Sam sent him a nasty look. “Knock it off! You like the café and you know it.” 

The techno geek shrugged, unconcerned. “I’ll admit, they make good sandwiches. But nothing can beat my love for the Nasty Burger. It was about time I dragged you here for a change.”

Danny was sure the Goth girl was about to deliver  a very colourful string of words their friend’s way hadn’t he intervened. “Remember, Sam,” he warned,  putting a hand on her shoulder, making her look at him instead, “this is a kid-friendly space.” He took her huffing and crossing her arms over her chest as she slumped on her seat as a victory. “Look on the bright side,” he pointed at the trail of food in front of her, “at least they serve vegetarian menus.”

“It was a pleasant surprise.” She admitted, looking down at the tofu-soy melt she’d been served. “I honestly thought their only options would be a bunch of so-called salads with more meat than lettuce.” Picking the sandwich up, her face wrinkled in disgust when she brought it to her face. Averting her eyes, she promptly set it back down, before sliding the trail away from her. “That being said, that thing’s soggier than a quarterback’s socks after a football game.”

“Then it should be just like you like it!” The techno geek quipped, causing Sam to fling some of his own fries at him in retaliation. Tucker could’ve tried shielding his face from the assault, but that would've meant dropping his burger, leaving him no choice but to become an easy target. “You’re gonna pay for those fries.” He deadpanned, his scowl only deepened when the Goth girl blew him a raspberry in response. 

“I believe it’d be more accurate to say football players’ socks are stiff after a game, giving the poor hygiene of the guys at our high school,” Danny pointed out matter-of-factly, trying to keep the peace between the two, before noticing the possible innuendo thanks to the help of Tucker and Sam’s meaningful looks. “But I get what you mean.” He finished lamely. 

Changing her position so she was looking directly at him, her face leaning on the hand resting on the table, Sam raised an amused eyebrow in his direction. “No offence, Danny, but teenage boys aren’t exactly known for their impeccable hygiene.” With a noncommittal shrug she leaned back against her seat. “There isn’t much of a difference between you guys and pigs; you’re both more voracious than a pack of hyenas and your body odor is arguably stronger than a pig-pen’s stench.” She pinched her nose with her fingers for emphasis, the smirk never leaving her face. 

Both guys seated with her shot her matching glares. “I resent that.” They said in unison, making her laugh. 

“FYI, Sam,” Tucker said between bites of his Mega Meaty Nasty Burger, “Danny and I had to learn the wonders of personal hygiene much sooner than any other guy at our school.” Setting the remainder of his burger down on its trail, his arm resting close to it, he leaned closer to Sam, as if he were about to share a secret. “For all the cruel things the girls said about us behind our backsー”

“Or to our faces.” Danny reminded him with a pained mumble. 

“Or to our faces.” Tucker agreed. “Despite everything, they never, not even once, complained about the way we smelled.” He leaned back against his seat with a triumphant grin, the burger already in his hands. “That’s way more than the jocks ever got.”

“Now that you mention it, Tuck,” the blue-eyed boy started, “I think the closest we ever got to a compliment from the A-list girls was when Paulina, grossed out by Dash trying to flirt with her all sweaty after P.E., screeched, ‘Get away from me! Not even those losers of Foley and Fenton smell nearly as bad as you!’” He mimicked in a very whiny, high-pitched voice. 

While Danny’s imitation got him and Tucker in stitches, it got Sam thinking. Did he say Paulina? She didn’t want to just assume the Paulina she knew was the only one in town, but she couldn’t help but think of her. “Uh, guys?” She waited until they gave her their full attention. “Um, sorry if this is weird, but I just realised I never got around to asking you; which high school did you go to?”

“Casper High.” They replied at the same time. “Why?”

Okay...so they were talking about the Paulina she knew. The Latina wasn’t kidding when she said she used to be the queen bee at Casper High when she and Star studied there, if Danny and Tucker’s retelling, as the lowest end of the food chain, was anything to go by. “Um...no reason, really. I was just curious, that’s all.” Not feeling up to compromising her, for once, plausible answer, she quickly tried changing the subject. “If what you’re telling me is true, though, how come you were such prodigies in the art of not smelling like garbage that’s spent way too much time under the sun?”

“Ghosts.” Tucker replied simply. Panicking, Danny discreetly kicked him in the shins, the only reason his best friend didn’t yelp in pain was the warning glare the raven-haired boy was sending him. He was about to ask him what he wanted when Sam supplied the answer. 

“Ghosts?” She echoed, tilting her head to the side.

Flinching at the realisation of what he’d just said, he immediately tried to cover his slip-up. “Y-yeah! Ghosts!” He vaguely registered Danny rubbing his temple with two fingers from the corner of his eye. “You...you remember Danny’s a Fenton, right?”

“Yeah?” She raised a quizzical eyebrow, while Danny’s head shot up at that, wondering what his best friend was up to. 

“You see,” Tucker said with the same tone of voice a teacher would use when enlightening his students on his subject, “since Danny’s folks are ghost hunters, ever since the spooks started haunting Amity Park, Mr. and Mrs. F. have been a little...say, trigger-happy. So every time they thought a ghost was near, we’d accidentally end up covered in whatever goop they were developing. Hence, why we were always taking showers.”

Catching onto what he’s best friend was up to, Danny was quick to add. “In fact, my sister used to have long, flowing hair, but ended up cutting it to a pixie cut after one too many accidents.”

“That’s...weird as fuck.” Sam said, and for a moment the two men feared she’d seen through them. Until she bobbed one shoulder up and down as she readied herself for round two against her tofu-soy melt. “But I guess it makes sense.”

“It does?” Danny asked, before Tucker’s foot painfully stomping on top of his brought him back to his senses. “I-I mean! Of course it makes sense...well, it shouldn’t, but that’s my family for you!” He made a helpless gesture as he shot her a sheepish grin her way. 

Their antics made her frown in suspicion, “Are you guys okay? You’re acting weird, and that’s saying something.” 

“We’re perfectly fine!” Tucker rushed in to say, at the same time as Danny tried with, “Just tired!” They shared furtive glances at each other when the dissonance registered in their brains. Then they tried again, only for Tucker to squeak, “Just tired!” at the same time as Danny assured, “We’re perfectly fine!”

A little creeped out by what was taking place right in front of her, the girl munched on her sandwich painfully slowly. “Uh huh…” She drawled, not buying it. She swallowed her food before addressing them again, her hazel-eyes strained on the two nervous-looking boys. “So, which one is it? Are you perfectly fine, or are you tired?”

Gulping loudly, Danny chose to speak for the two of them, seeing as their usual ‘bronnection’ was failing them. “Come on, Sam. We obviously mean we’re a little tired, with all our assignments and whatnot, but overall, we’re perfectly fine!” The halfa tried alleviating the tension with a motion of his hand. “That’s just your usual college student life. What’re you gonna do? Right, Tuck?” He elbowed his bespectacled friend, urging for support. 

The African American young man started, “Oh! Um...sure” He stammered at first. “Totally. Nothing going on but your typical college life problems.” He let out an awkward laugh. 

Sam just kept staring at them just as intently as before, her intertwined hands resting on the table. With her eyes narrowed on them like a gangster deciding whether to kill or torture a snitch that’d ratted them out to the cops. The pair of best friends could barely contain the urge to squirm under her scrutiny. Finally she shook her head and, for a moment, they were sure she’d made her choice; they were dead. “We definitely can’t come back here. The food’s so bad it’s rotting your brains!” She shook her head in mock concern. “And it’s not like you had many to begin with…”

“Wait a minute!” Tucker protested while Danny let out a relieved sigh, “You leave the Nasty Burger out of this!”

“I just say it as I see it.” Sam countered in a sing-song voice. It was so easy to get a rise out of him, she just couldn’t resist. 

As his two friends started bickering, Danny limited himself to watching them, amused and content to have them in his life. A part of him still couldn’t believe how easily Sam had filled the space he didn’t even know was empty. His whole life he thought Tucker’s companionship was all he neededーexcept for his early high school days when he dreamed of being part of the A-listers, but he’d since wisened up. With ghost-hunting overcomplicating his life, he’d long given up on expanding his social circle outside of his sister and best friend, and serious girlfriends were an all-time no-no, but in just a few meetings, the Goth changed that. 

Her individualism and strong moral compass were the perfect addition to his dry sense of humour and awkwardness, and Tucker’s optimism and desire to do something big. It was like they balanced each other out. Sam’s own sense of justice aligned itself nicely with Danny’s own need to do the right thing and protect others, while she shared the need to stand outーalbeit in different waysーwith Tucker, as opposed to his efforts of blending in. Even their differences were a great addition to their friendship, for they forced them to open their eyes to new possibilities they might have overlooked. 

Danny wished Clockwork would just stop time right at that very moment. There, in the middle of the crowded and not always sanitary Nasty Burger, surrounded by teens complaining about the struggles of high school and underpaid workers, everything was perfect. Being there with Tucker and Sam, watching them bicker and mediating when things threatened to get out of hand, felt like things were as they should have always been. 

They weren’t even there to talk about witches! Somewhere along the way hanging out with Sam just became normal; the right thing to do. And to think not that long ago he didn’t even know she existed…

Watching her bring a hand to the shaved half her face, as if she were about to push away some hair blocking her view only to stop in mid-air and sheepishly put her hand back down on the table when she remembered there was nothing to push awayーmaybe she still wasn’t used to missing half of her raven locksーwarmed his heart. For a moment, she redirected her focus on him, probably sensing his eyes on her, and she flushed prettily, causing heat to creep up on Danny’s own cheeks as a result. 

They immediately averted their eyes and focused on something else; Sam looked back at Tuckerーwho was trying very hard to keep his impish grin off his faceーand Danny found himself looking at the ceiling. He’d never noticed there were pieces of gum up there...

For someone who’d sworn off romance after sophomore year of high school, he was doing a very poor job at steering clear of it. Just like the route his treacherous mind had taken the other day as he locked eyes with Lady Arcana…

The halfa could feel his heart squeezing in his chest just by looking into those heliotrope orbs of hers. From the moment he first laid eyes on her, he knew not even his glowing gaze could compare to them in uniqueness. Regrettably, the usual frostiness he found in them hindered their beauty. But now that she was staring at him with great esteem and, dare he hope, a hint of admiration, it was as if spring had finally arrived and had defrosted her gaze; revealing the field of lilacs hidden underneath. 

The content smile tugging at her lips illuminated her entire visage, accentuating that tantalising beauty he chose to overlook due to the rocky nature of their relationship. In all his years coming back and forth between the Ghost Zone and Amity Park, he was sure he’d never met anyone who represented the beauty of both worlds quite like she did; and he was a halfa! 

Her amethyst eyes and her paranormal nature made her stand out even in a dimension populated by powerful entities, each possessor of a unique gift. The way the eery light coming from the ectoplasmic swirls around them reflected on her slick, black hair gave her an appropriately otherworldly glowーso beautiful it eclipsed anything he’d ever seen before. It was almost like she belonged in the Ghost Zone. 

But her personality wasn’t like any he’d ever encountered before, let alone in a spirit. He hadn’t realised it until now, or rather, he hadn't allowed himself to see it, but there was no denying the glimpses of something incredibly humane within her. As unusual a sight it might be, her love for her carnivorous plant wasn’t any different from that of a little girl playing with her puppy. The care she felt for it was evident in the curve of her smile whenever she glanced down at her little, potted friend. Her love and loyalty for her people were admirable as well. He’d been lying if he said he hadn’t been taken aback by her insistence of staying behind in order to protect her two subjects. As vain as it sounded, he’d only seen that kind of dedication and sacrifice in himselfーright when he took off to take on Pariah Dark. She’d even saved him, a ghost! Her alleged worst enemy! And all because she saw him in need and couldn’t sit idly by and do nothing. 

He could see it now. Lady Arcana represented the best of both worlds. It was like she belonged with him…

Eyes widening in shock, he quickly tried to shake off the strange feelings taking residence in his core. Maybe he’d been too quick to judge Lady Arcana, but she was still a witch! It’d be incredibly foolish of him to ignore centuries of beef between their people just for a pretty face. Besides, even if ghosts and witches weren’t enemies, he still could never date her. It’d be too dangerous. 

He had to snap out of those delusions, pronto.  “Lady Arcana.” He called out to her. A few seconds passed and she said nothing, causing him to worry. Now that he looked closely at her, she seemed a little flushed; what if something was wrong with her?

“Lady Arcana, are you okay?” Phantom asked, even though, unbeknownst to him, he looked a little out of sorts himself. “Your face is a little red. Should we have someone check it out?”

“No!” She exclaimed a little too quickly and a little too loudly, which only made him worry more for her sake. She was frantically shaking her hands before her and her cheeks only took on a deeper shade of red.

Looking at him like she’d been caught doing something bad, the witch cleared her throat, although it looked a little forced. “I mean, no; I’m fine, really. Probably just a little affected from all the excitement.” Averting her gaze, she jerked her thumb behind her. “I, uh, I should probably go back to my people. They’re probably recruiting an army to come and save me as we speak.” She laughed it off weakly. 

The halfa’s eyes shot open at that. Duh! What was he thinking!? Of course not seeing their queen return from the Ghost Zone would cause an uproar among her clan! “Oh, right! Yeah, it’ll probably be for the best. Wouldn’t want to start a war over a misunderstanding…” He rubbed the back of his neck as he, too, looked away. “I...I’ll let you be.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for saving me.” Lady Arcana  said softly, and Danny could feel his heart swelling at her words. Unbidden, his expression fell a little when she put a little distance between the two. She was about to cast the spell that would send her home when his voice acted before his brain had time to catch up to it. “Wait!”

Turning around, she raised an eyebrow at him, “What?”

“Are there going to be any more meetings after this?” He asked. “I mean, after this whole fiasco, I wouldn’t blame you if you decided to call it quits…”

In spite of himself, he couldn’t keep the seed of hope from being planted when she gave him a small smile. “We still need to solve the portal problem, don’t we?” Then, she smirked. “You won’t get rid of me that easily, Phantom!”

Danny was pretty sure he’d just smiled appreciatively at her, which was why he didn’t understand when she hastily turned around once more, ready to leave. “Well, until next time!” 

“Wait, Lady Arcana!” He called out to her once more, hating how desperate he sounded. 

“Yes?”

“I...u-uh,...well…” He stuttered before taking a deep breath. “Thank you for saving me, too.”

The way her expression softened was enough to bring forth emotions he long believed dead and buried. “You’re welcome, Phantom.” Finally, she focused on her anima, willing a purple light to engulf her as she chanted, “Omnes viae Romam ducunt.”

And with that, she was gone. 

The snow-white haired ghost kept staring off into the distance even after she was long gone, his mind still trying to process the day’s events. But there was something that, hard as he might, he just couldn’t make sense of. She’d been able to grab him while he was intangible, but how? At first he thought it was a specific spell or something, but that theory was soon proven mistaken when not even Lady Arcana seemed to know how she’d been able to touch him. 

Only one thing was for sure; he needed answers. And he had a pretty good idea where he’d be able to get them. 

Danny’s musings were abruptly interrupted by the sight of his best friend pointing a fry accusingly at Sam, “When were you going to tell me you’re rich?”

A heavy silence suddenly filled their booth. It was like someone had forced a horrible screech out of a vinyl disc by scratching on its surface. Looking over at Sam, the halfa was sure she was about to drop her food, too stunned to even move. The way her eyes had popped open would’ve been comical, hadn’t it been for the tense atmosphere. 

Shaking her head lightly, the Goth girl finally regained her senses, her shocked face morphing itself into a scowl. “Say it a little louder, Tucker.” She grumbled. “I don’t think they’ve heard you all the way to Siberia.”

Now it was Tucker’s turn to scowl. “Uh, no. You don’t get to be mad at me for saying it aloud.” He slumped back on his seat, turning his head away from her. “Not when you never even told me yourself; I had to find out through Jazz.”

“Jazz?” Danny repeated, confused. “When did you talk about this with Jazz?”

“Uh...we were texting each other and it came up.” He shrugged his concerns off. “But that’s not important right now. What matters,” he said hotly as he shot the brunette a pointed look, “is that we’ve been friends for over a year and you never told me! How come Danny and Jazz get to know you’re part of the Mansons but I don’t?!”

The youngest Fenton was about to try and explain things to the techno geek when Sam beat him to it, “Tucker, it’s not like I planned this! I was just having dinner with my dad when Danny and his sister appeared at the restaurant.” She explained, exasperated. “And honestly? The only reason Danny knows is because Jazz already did. It’s not like I saw them come in and waved at them like, ‘Hey, guys! I’m here with my Hella wealthy father! You wanna come with to our yacht in the Mediterranean?’” She droned in an overly cheery, sugary-sweet voice, her lashes fluttering excessively.

“You have a yacht in the Mediterranean?” Both boys asked, incredulous. 

Her scowl deepened. “That’s irrelevant.”

“Yeah, well..,” His shoulders slouched, Tucker could only sulk, hurt. “Could’ve still told me. I thought we were friends, Sam.”

His words were like a knife piercing through her heart. They were friends, weren’t they? Despite their differences and some of his most obnoxious flaws, Tucker was still the first person to ever approach her without ulterior motives in mind. Even after they’d made it clear they could never work as a couple, he stayed with her. Annoying he may be, he was still the first friend she’d ever made on her own, and she loved him for it. He was right; he didn’t deserve to be hurt due to her secretive nature. 

With a sigh, she scrubbed her face with one hand, feeling remorseful. “Tuck, I’m...I’m really sorry.” She confessed, earning the techno geek’s full attention. “You’re right, even if the secret was mine to tell, I should’ve let you know sooner.” She sighed once more, unable to meet his eyes. Sam hated allowing herself to be vulnerable in front of others; growing up, she’d learned to depend on no one but herself, therefore, showing her helpless, weaker, side to others was incredibly hard to do. “Listen, you’re the first friend I’ve made in a very long time. I was afraid of losing you.”

Although his posture was still guarded, Tucker couldn’t deny her words piqued his interest. “What do you mean, Sam? How is me knowing who you are going to lead to you losing me?”

“I sort of agree with Tucker.” Danny commented. “If anything, it’d bring you two closer.”

“Right?”

Chuckling mirthlessly, the Goth shook her head. Both boys flinched when they saw the pain reflected in her hazel eyes. “Look, being me isn’t easy, okay? I’m not saying life in general ain’t shitty, because that’d be lying, but my life is especially complicated. 

“I grew up trying to live up to insanely high expectations, a childhood no kid should ever be forced to go through. I was constantly reminded of the near impossibility that was me making real friends, and I guess, once I reached puberty, it just made me cynical.” Sam admitted quietly, not looking up from her trail of food. “By the time I could try making friends of my own, I was already convinced the moment they learned of my family’s wealth, they’d start seeing me as their personal credit card, instead of my own person who deserves to be loved and accepted just for being who I am.”

Although she desperately tried to hide it, Danny and Tucker immediately exchanged concerned glances the instant she sniffled. Their hearts broke in two for the girl sitting with them. Sure, they’d been Casper High’s laughing stock from the beginning to end of their high school experience, but they always had each other. Sam...Sam spent the majority of her life alone. It was impossible not to feel for her. 

“In...in the end,” God, how she hated the way her voice shook! “I decided hiding that part of me was easier. I wanted friends who liked me for me, and having a Black MasterCard was surely going to make things difficult.”

“You have a Black MasterCard?” Tucker accidentally let out. When Danny’s neon green glare started burning a hole in his skull, he backtracked. “I’m sorry, Sam. I mean...I guess I mean I’m sorry.”

“You are? But I’m the one who’s kept you in the dark this long!”

 “Yeah, and it hurts.” He admitted. “But it’s obvious you had your reasons and after hearing them, man, I can’t blame you. I would also hide all that cash if I were you. Even though the temptation of flaunting my own private jet in front of all the asholes who used to shove me into lockers would be too great.”

Despite herself, his joke made her laugh. “Thanks Tuck. Friends?” She rubbed her eyes to wipe the imaginary tears away. She was relieved to know she didn’t cry; crying was something Sam Manson just didn’t do. It would’ve been mortifying.

He leaned over to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We’re still friends. But you’re paying for our next meal.” That earned him a playful punch on the arm from the Goth, but the smile on her face betrayed her true emotions. 

Shaking her head good-naturedly, she scoffed. “Deal.”

After that, the three kept talking amongst themselves. About everything and nothing. Nearing the end of their meal, Danny and Tucker were too engrossed reminiscing about their high school days per her request. Admittedly, just hearing the traumatising experiences they’d been through made her feel suddenly grateful for never attending the dreaded place herself. Still, after the tenth story retelling how some jackass had forced Danny to eat his jockstrap after losing a betーew!ー her mind wandered elsewhere. 

Her last encounter with Phantom sent her reeling. The way they both complemented each other when they worked as a team was astounding. It reminded her of Grandma Ida’s tales of how things used to be before the ghosts forced them into hiding, when the two species were practically symbiotic of each other. 

For the first time since she received his letter, she found herself trusting him. Most importantly, a part of herself came to wish she could indeed trust him. Perhaps all the centuries apart and resentment had clouded their people’s minds. Maybe they were really better off together than separated. She had to admit her knowledge on ghosts was very limited aside from what she’d been taught her entire life, and if there was something Sam was, that was inquisitive. She never took anything by face value, so why did she do just that with ghosts?

She needed to learn more about them. She needed to act like an individual, rather than a bee awaiting orders from the queen, and do a little research of her own. 

She needed answers and, crazy as it might be, she knew where to find them. 

“Hey, Danny?” Her voice stopped short Tucker’s retelling of his hellish experience dating the second most popular girl in school. When Danny’s baby blue eyes met hers, she almost lost her nerve. Almost. “Um, would you mind taking me to FentonWorks?”

#Danny Phantom #dp #dp fic #my fic #your heart #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #jazz fenton #Paulina Sanchez #star dp #Amethyst Ocean #ghost king! danny #ghost king au #witch queen au #witch queen! sam #enemies to friends to lovers

[nbaczynskifilm]

Cherry Reflection

This project has been one of my favourite projects I have been a part of in university. I love the fact that we got to make a short film! I have learned so much from this experience and I cannot wait for the next project!

Cherry was a stressful process in the pre-production and shooting phase. We honestly had no idea what we were doing, or it at least it felt like that. I was appointed cinematographer which I was excited for as I think that’s the direction I want to head in, but Cherry isn’t the usual thing I would go for visually. I adore a black and white film from time to time, but I feel like I usually find my style leaning to crazy colours and fun lighting. So, a film noir style was going to be a challenge for me. I don’t think I’m very into the style of film noir honestly, I love some black and white films, but they go for a much more minimalistic route; films such as Ida or Roma. I love the simplicity and sparseness of shots within films like that as it allows us to focus on the story whilst having some fantastic visuals. That sort of style really appeals to me, its fresh and timeless. So, I do have to admit that the cinematic style really didn’t turn out as film noir, apart from the black and white aspect to it. Although when creating the storyboards and shooting most of these influences were subconscious. Only when people started mentioning the fact that the characters had a lot of head room did I realise how inspired I was by those types of films. In all honesty though I do stand by my headroom choice. I think it creates a connection with the atmosphere and plays into the height difference of the characters. Without the exaggerated headroom I think that those shots would be forgettable and would lose their stylised look, but to each their own.

One thing I must mention as well is the quick change of location. Our final location was decided a day before the shoot. This was because I went to the original location the day before and realised that it was basically unusable for this shoot. I wondered around Edinburgh that night and thankfully found what we were looking for but because of this lack of time I feel like a lot of changes occurred to my original plans. On the day of the shoot, I had a full story board planned out, with quite a few set ups but when we arrived at the location we decided to just about wing it. I kind of regret doing that as I do feel like I was rushed into making decisions, some of my planned shots remained which is good but sadly because of how cold it was we couldn’t get as much coverage as I hoped for. I still wish there was maybe one or two extra shots in the film just to add some more variety, but I’m not devastated about it. I really do think that the result is satisfactory though.

In post-production we noticed the fact that this film had a lot more comedy to it than we initially assumed. We decided to really go into that and I’m very happy that we did. I thankfully had the opportunity to join my group a few times during the editing and sound design phases where the film really started to take shape. We sadly had a lot of issues with our sound but since I’m not a sound expert I was still proud of our results. I do agree that there was some mixing issues and we probably could’ve had some more voiceover to avoid using so much of the on shoot dialogue, but then again I do find the dialogue to be very necessary for the comedic effects so a middle ground probably would’ve been ideal. The sound design added a lot of humour and the editing paired very well with the visual style of the film; it really made the film pop. I can’t help but mention the performances as well. The girls were truly fantastic with each other, their chemistry was great, and I really do think that this whole film wouldn’t be nearly as good without them.

What I’ve learned from this project is the importance of having a good team. We finally started to work properly together, and I think that’s why the result ended up well. This was a great learning opportunity as well I now know that we should’ve focused more on the pre-production and checked all our equipment. I will also make sure that I am better prepared with things like storyboards so that we have a much easier shoot. I also think this has inspired me to take more risks with my filmmaking. I feel more confident about my skills, and I really hope that I will continue to evolve my skills as this course continues. As I’ve said in the begging I cannot wait to see what I’ll do next, but I really want to go all out and be even more ambitious with my upcoming projects because risks really do payoff.

[emmalenalouisaellis]

Dear Diary ~ Reflecting on  Personal and Public Scribbles

“I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train.” ― Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest

I preface this by saying this is not a complaint against computers. I have one, and for much of my adult life, I have worked on a computer. 

Typing is faster, smoother, and even though it's not foolproof, it has some form of spell-check. Or, since Word isn't always a comprehensive lexicon - something that can be found in a Google search or too - it is much easier to look through than an extensive, cumbersome dictionary.  Simply put, having a laptop is the ideal solution for a dyslexic writer like myself who has to sometimes wade through dozens of notebooks and character sheets, plot points and extended drafts to ensure that I can bash out something vaguely resembling a novel.

But, ever since I was a little girl, I have always looked forward to Christmas time. Because amongst the assortment of brightly and delicately wrapped gifts, I find myself with a brand new and unmarked diary. Every time, I feel the crisp, clean pages on my fingers, the soft, secure spine, where the neatly cut ribbon falls in matching or contrasting colours. I take up my favourite pen and write my name, neatly as I can on the front page. This, more than any other present, belongs to me. It will become my secret, my confidant, in a way that still charms me. A perfectly imperfect, personal collection of handwritten scribbles. A permanent memento of me that will still exist despite the ever-growing digital age.

And with the pandemic showing it isn't "over yet",  One might think that even here, as I write my thoughts over the internet, such things are archaic and cumbersome. Because as time goes on, more and more of us are clustering around screens to stay connected with loved ones or work colleagues - the world' Zoom'ing by as we are encouraged to remain apart, at home and sensible.

But to me, there still needs to be a balance. We can choose to broadcast everything - some of us do: posting publically to our friends we've met online and face to face through the years - using social media.

As one of my public faces, even my Tumblr has been meticulously polished, written and rewritten in a bid to be 'likeable' or 'relatable'.  This is partly because I love receiving comments and recommendations here, and seeing someone gave it a note makes me feel like my words are validated.  (For all those that do - old and new: Thank you).

The whole thing is very much a viewing platform and snapshots I feel noteworthy and vital enough to broadcast in many ways. It’s the sitcom of my life and that of others, and all of it plays out from the comfort of our own homes to keep others from worry and concern, all whilst sparking general curiosity. Talking points.

Ida Lupino (c. 1952). Courtesy Film Forum via Photofest

Whereas, in contrast, writing a diary feels more individual. Here I can rant and cry or smile and sigh without judgement and filters, simply recording my own reflections on the page without an audience. And there is something so aesthetically pleasing about it that you can't get from a typed out document. Sometimes there is blood from papercuts, ink splatters where I scribbled too fast, dried tears and smudges from my hand - but all of it is raw, personal and mine.

As someone with learning disabilities, I find it difficult sometimes to open up to others. But my diary is somewhere just for me, and very often, the words flow.

A diary is a beautiful expression of self-love, sometimes loathing by me and for me.

If we choose to share it, it reflects trust and openness, which I suppose is why there are so many cliché moments in teen dramas of girls feeling violated when they have their diary snatched and read by their peers.

But that’s the problem and the wonderful appeal of books: they can quickly transport us to another world.

When I was younger, I was by chance glancing over my Granny’s bookshelves when I found what would become one of my favourite books ‘The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady'  by Edith Holden. 

Since its first publication in 1906, the book has charmed many with its beautiful drawings of wild and garden flowers and a hint of charming recordings and recolections in words and paintings the flora and fauna of the British countryside in the four beautiful seasons. 

Much like her work - little stories and poems in my own diaries. I fill them with recipes, pressed flowers, autumn leaves and ticket stubs or add poems I’ve also fallen in love with when writer’s block strikes.

When I can, I love to write in fountain pen with flowing blue or green ink, or make more occasional, frantic scribbles in pencil. In contrast to my organised, documents and manuscripts, I am confident there are many spelling mistakes littering the pages. But that’s part of the charm. 

And the internet can often help enhance these futher. You only have to go on Pinterest to find beautiful pictures to print out or post in virtual corkboards and scrapbooks. Thanks to the interconnected world wide web, there are plenty of poems I can search for and add into my diaries to compliment my own ideas.  For example on the blog by Bella’s Rose Cottage I came across this beautiful little poem:

“The kind of flowers,

I find to be the workhorse of my cottage garden…

the self seeders,

who behave a bit naughty…

the sort of flowers that give the garden

that lived in look,

like the magic of finding a secret garden,

wild around the edges…

flowers to press in the pages of a book,

to remind you of a lazy summers day…

tucked into a little nook to sip quietly…

watch the puppies frolic…

a day to maybe,

use long seedpods of the Toadflax,

as a book mark…

and enjoy a nap…..”

- Bella Rogers

It was so pretty, that it helped inspire me to write this post. Spring is now upon us and with it a chance to reflect and enjoy new beginnings - and opportunities.  It’s nearly the weekend and now with renewed inspiration, the words are once more flowing freely from my fingers as the creative itch begins as always with those magical words:

'Dear Diary,'

I wonder what I shall write about today…

 Have a beautiful day 

x Emmalena

#diaries #writing #diary #dear diary #journal #dreams #jottings #poems #scribbles #poetry #extracts #scrapbook #personal #reflections #victorian #edwardian #vintage #period #historical #historic #Edith Holden #writer #musings #thoughts #country diary of an edwardian lady #the importance of being Earnest #cecily cardew #gwendolyn fairfax #reece witherspoon #frances o'connor

[letterboxd]

Dream Chasers.

Mark Harris and Alicia Malone—two of the hosts of this month’s TCM Film Festival—tell Jack Moulton about Nichols and May, West Side Story, classic lockdown discoveries, and the films that make you feel like everything has changed when you walk out of that cinema.

For a second year in a row due to the Covid-19 pandemic, the TCM Classic Film Festival is being hosted virtually. Its program screens across TCM and HBO Max from May 6 to May 9. The festival, which began in 2010, was held at Grauman’s Chinese Theater and the nearby Egyptian Theater in Hollywood, a move designed to allow classic movie fans to retread the footsteps of glitzy premieres from the glamorous past.

Ahead of Steven Spielberg’s upcoming remake, the festival opens with West Side Story’s 60th anniversary screening, featuring new and exclusive interviews by living legends Rita Moreno, George Chakiris and Russ Tamblyn. The complete festival lineup includes classic programming and talent highlights, from Michael Douglas introducing his Best Picture-winning One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest to Scorsese on Goodfellas, to a comedian-heavy table read of Edward D. Wood Jr.’s infamously bad Plan 9 From Outer Space.

Journalist and author Mark Harris, who published the biography Mike Nichols: A Life earlier this year, is presenting the 1996 American Masters documentary Nichols and May: Take Two, covering the Oscar-winning director’s legendary comic partnership with Elaine May. It features iconic sketches that will recontextualize the way you think about Nichols if you thought his career started with Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and The Graduate.

TCM host, feminist cinema expert, Australian expat and Letterboxd member Alicia Malone is also a presenter at this year’s festival. (She admits she’s slacking on her Letterboxd logging this year, but used it to track her viewings over lockdown, topping over 500 films.) Neither Harris nor Malone have been able to go to the cinema since they closed over a year ago, but both are eager to return to their local arthouses in Maine and the Upper West Side of Manhattan as soon as they’re ready.

We caught up with Harris and Malone shortly before the festival commenced for a classic edition of the Letterboxd Life in Film.

‘The Poseidon Adventure’ (1972).

What’s your fondest memory of seeing a film in the cinema? Mark Harris: This is embarrassing, but for me it’s The Poseidon Adventure. At the time, my parents were a bit stricter than other parents so the other kids were already getting to see so-called ‘adult’ movies. The Poseidon Adventure was the first ‘not-kids’ movie that I ever got to see in a theater and at the age of eight, I immediately thought ‘well, clearly this is the best movie of all-time’. Everything in it was new information to me, such as how adults talked to each other and Stella Stevens playing a prostitute—I had no idea what that was. I found it so scary, I believed everything I saw on the screen. The joy of taking in something I hadn’t seen before has never left me.

Alicia Malone: It would probably be seeing Amélie. I was living in Canberra but my older sister had moved to Sydney, which to me was the big smoke, I really wanted to live there when I grew up. I got to visit her by myself and stay in her flat which she was renting by herself and it seemed so cool. She took me to the local arthouse cinema where Amélie was playing and I was so swept away. I know that film gets a bad rap now for being overly sentimental and quirky, but I just felt like I was being seen. I had such a kinship with the character of Amélie because she’s a dreamer, always in her own head and that’s how I was. I was always comparing my life to movies and playing movie scenes in my head. I remember walking out of that cinema and it felt like everything had changed—the color was brighter, it was special.

MH: We have to talk Turner into an Amélie-Poseidon Adventure double-feature!

AM: What a double! That would be amazing.

John Garfield and Ida Lupino in ‘The Sea Wolf’ (1941).

Which classic films that you discovered during lockdown had a major impact on you? MH: I wanted to dive into some directors that I really didn’t know well so I started watching all the Luchino Visconti movies, because Italian cinema is not my strongest area. That was an incredibly rewarding experience. I also saw the big seven-hour Russian War and Peace, which completely blew my mind. Those were probably my big pandemic discoveries.

AM: Something I really loved was getting to do the TCM Star of the Month for John Garfield because he’s such an interesting character and was a pre-cursor to Marlon Brando, Robert De Niro and those types of method actors. I’d seen him in various films—such as The Postman Always Rings Twice—but I’d never sat down to watch a lot of his filmography and learn more about his personal story. To see films like The Sea Wolf and Body and Soul, I really gained a newfound respect for him as an actor. You can see some of the beginnings of that kind of tough-guy, everyday-man archetype with a brilliant actor putting his emotions right there on his sleeve.

MH: I should also say that the Women Make Movies Festival was huge for me. All those movies are on my DVR and I’m still going through them and discovering them. I recorded everything and that was and continues to be a gigantic education for me.

AM: Yes! Thanks for that reminder. That was such a fulfilling experience to get to be one of the hosts on that with Jacqueline Stewart. What was so brilliant about Mark Cousins’ documentary is that there are so many clips of films that you think how have we not seen this? How are we not studying this film? How do we not know about this particular filmmaker?

Meryl Streep and Jack Nicholson in ‘Heartburn’ (1986).

If you could only pick one, which is the most overlooked film by Mike Nichols? MH: The most under-appreciated film to me is Heartburn. That was a real rediscovery when I was working on the book. I remember liking it, but I didn’t remember how sharp the performances were, how funny the comedy was, and the really acute social observations. I was so surprised when I was coming across the reviews—almost all of which were by men—and all of them said some version of “Why is he wasting his time with this? Why would he tell this woman’s story? Why doesn’t he tell the other half of the story?” Surely no-one would leave this character unless she gave him a good reason to leave! It was really shocking to me how dismissive and contemptuous a lot of the critical reaction was. I’m so happy that I’ve gotten to stick Heartburn under a lot of people’s noses because it’s a movie they seem to be really liking once they find it.

AM: I’m obviously not as deep into his filmography as Mark is, but I have to agree that Heartburn is a film that I can’t believe has been so overlooked. I came to that movie through Nora Ephron, who I just adore. [Heartburn is adapted from a semi-autobiographical novel by Ephron.] I rewatched it recently and I was blown away by it. Of course, Meryl Streep is amazing, but just getting to be in those characters’ worlds again and watching it after I had listened to the audiobook—which features the voice of Meryl Streep—about a year ago added a whole new experience. I loved how in her book how she has all these recipes dotted through it that you see in the movie as well.

MH: That’s one of the great audiobook readings of all time. It’s great to listen to [Streep] do that.

John Cassavetes and Peter Falk in ‘Mikey and Nicky’ (1976).

Where do you recommend film lovers start with Elaine May? MH: It’s only a four-movie body of work as a director so I think it’s perfectly fine to go in chronological order. A New Leaf is fantastic and feels 100 percent her. You really get a great deal of her sensibility in that movie. I would just start there and go to The Heartbreak Kid and then to Mikey and Nicky, which is not the place to start but is a fascinating movie, and then you’ll be ready for Ishtar.

AM: See, I would say Mikey and Nicky straight out of the gate.

MH: Really?

AM: I love subverting expectations of what a female director can do and that is such a masculine movie. It’s a film that you wouldn’t expect for a female director to make. I love the back and forth, the rapport between [Cassavetes and Falk]. I find it really compelling and exciting every time I see it. So I say, go hard, go in with Mikey and Nicky then, yeah, A New Leaf and The Heartbreak Kid, but maybe skip Ishtar.

Iconic comedy duo Elaine May and Mike Nichols.

Thinking of Nichols fleeing to New York City from Germany, and Alicia moving to Hollywood from Australia, which ‘American Dream’ film resonates with you the most? AM: This answer is going to sound quite cheesy since it was a recent film: La La Land. I understand all the criticism about it, I agree with it, but I don’t care. I feel like it was made for me as a redhead in Hollywood, chasing her dream, and coming up against all the obstacles. I also love Singin’ in the Rain, which I know is not necessarily strictly about the American Dream but is about Hollywood in general. That is a film that really started the idea of moving to Hollywood as a young kid. It’s the idea of a magical place where you could do anything and make your dreams come true and have dignity—always dignity.

MH: This time I’m going to go hard and dark and say the first title that occurred to me, which is The Godfather: Part II. It’s a great immigrant story, though it’s a strange version of the American Dream. The whole saga is about coming to America, becoming an American, and deciding what American values are.

AM: I should say that during our TCM Film Festival on HBO Max, we have a section on immigrant stories. We have America, America, which is a great one by Elia Kazan, and Stranger Than Paradise, which I would recommend as well. It’s a warped view of the American Dream but I love the way they think they get rich and all their dreams can come true. Also Black Legion, which is a darker version of the immigrant story with Humphrey Bogart going to the darker side of ‘foreigners should not take American jobs’.

MH: I’ll just throw in a plug for another Mike Nichols movie, Working Girl. He really saw that as an immigrant story—the first shot is of the Statue of Liberty, even though they’re [emigrating] from Staten Island! I think Mike thought it was as distant of a land as the old country, I’m not sure he spent a lot of time on Staten Island.

Katharine Hepburn in ‘Woman of the Year’ (1942).

What are some of your other problematic faves? The classics we acknowledge have not aged well, but you love anyway. AM: I think My Fair Lady is one of those. I’m a sucker for make-over movies despite all of their problematic ways of showing how women need to change if you don’t fit into the mold and you should sand down all your edges. But I get worked up in the whole transformation myth and making your life better. Even though it’s got Audrey Hepburn and you want to see Julie Andrews in that role, My Fair Lady is still one that I enjoy and I can see all of the problems with it.

Another one, that we featured during our Reframed series on TCM, was Woman of the Year, which is a great example of one of those women’s pictures that, as Professor Jeanine Basinger has pointed out, is so empowering for most of the movie and then in the last five minutes it undoes everything. It’s still a great film to watch when you want to get ahead of feminism and see Katharine Hepburn in a wonderful role, but you just have to ignore the breakfast scene at the end.

MH: I was just talking the other day to some people about the movie Network, which is one of my all-time favorite movies, but if you look hard at Network, it’s very possible to read that as a story about a woman who can’t be a professional in a workplace without hollowing herself out and becoming sort of less-than-human. [Diana Christensen] is talked about terribly by the other characters and you’re supposed to learn a hard lesson about what a monster an ambitious woman can become and that does not hold up well. It’s also a movie that features some of the wittiest dialogue and some of the greatest performances of any movie of the 1970s and I’m always going to love it for that.

AM: That’s such a trope, isn’t it? The ice-cold career woman.

MH: Right, and whoever did it better than…

AM, MH: Faye Dunaway!

Alicia Malone, Mark Harris.

Which coming-of-age movie character did you find the most relatable? AM: For me, it’s Velvet Brown played by Elizabeth Taylor in National Velvet. I watched that over and over as a child when I was obsessed with horses. It was so inspiring as a young girl to see another young girl chasing her dreams—pretending she’s a boy that doesn’t speak English to win the Grand National—particularly at the time when I grew up in the 1980s, when so many of those films for kids were about young boys achieving their dreams.

MH: Haven’t seen it in a long time, but the Peter Yates movie Breaking Away meant a lot to me when I was a kid. The idea of chasing something that means something to you but trying to reconcile what your parents thought about it, and how to balance your own dreams with the expectations other people had for you. I think that’s a really lovely movie.

I still think about those performances by Dennis Christopher, Dennis Quaid, Daniel Stern and Jackie Earl Haley, and of course Barbara Barrie and Paul Dooley as the parents. That movie landed right in my heart the first time I saw it. I’m almost afraid to go back now, I don’t want it to have turned into one of my problematic faves! I want it to be one of my faves.

If we could gift every Letterboxd member two hours of HBO Max to discover one film from this year’s TCM Classic Film Festival lineup, which film would you want it to be? (My pick is Bless Their Little Hearts.) AM: A film that I just adore is Cléo From 5 to 7 by Agnès Varda. She was working in the French New Wave and arguably made the first movie ever in the French New Wave. It’s one of those great movies that is close to real time as possible—it should be Cléo From 5 to 6:30 really, because it’s an hour and a half. It’s so inventively shot and edited. I’ve done the walk that she did in Paris, I’ve tried to map that out and copy Cléo. I want more people to see it and discover it.

MH: My husband [playwright and screenwriter Tony Kushner] recently finished writing a new version of West Side Story for Steven Spielberg that’s going to come out at the end of the year. I think I would like to gift everybody the first version of West Side Story, which opens the festival, because you have to start there. It’s a beautiful movie and I think it’s a really instructive thing to see how this story was told in 1961 versus how it’s going to be told in 2021. Also, it’s two-and-a-half hours so if we’re only gifting people two hours… they’re not going to see the ending and they’re going to have to go to the new one to find out what happens!

Related content

Follow Mark Harris, Alicia Malone and TCM on Twitter for updates on TCM Classic Film Festival 2021

Watch the TCMFF West Side Story cast reunion, May 6 at 6pm ET

A Letterboxd list of all the films mentioned in this interview

Follow Festiville for all Letterboxd festival coverage

Follow Jack on Letterboxd

#tcm #tcmff #tcm film festival #hbo max #alicia malone #mark harris #tony kushner #elaine may #mike nichols #nora ephron #steven spielberg #west side story #letterboxd #letterboxd life in film #classic film #classic movies #old hollywood #hollywood glamour #hollywood glamor

[thestarwrites]

All Right, All Might: Ch.6

Word Count: 3,228

Rating: PG

Painting: Toshinori Yagi X FemOC

The UA Guidance Counselor, a quirk user with Pathokenesis, is shocked to find out her personal hero All Might is coming to be a teacher. The road they walk as a parallel starts to merge and there’s no telling what could happen. This is the moment when everything starts to go haywire; The attack at the USJ.

CHAPTER SIX: It Started On All Might’s Day Off

“Remind me again why you’re here on your day off instead of resting at home and doing some of the things you say you’re too busy to do? Like get furniture?” Keri quirked her eyebrow at the tall blonde relaxing on her sofa as she typed. The door was locked and the privacy shade was down, “I can’t even see any students while you’re in here like this Tosh.”

All Might frowned, “I brought you lunch… don’t you want to come and eat it before it gets cold?”

The woman looked up and couldn’t help but smile, standing up she stretched, “I guess it is lunch time, and you were sweet enough to bring me lunch.”

“You bring me lunch sometimes.”

“Yeah to your desk when you haven’t left it to eat in hours,” She huffed, “I know you have a hard time getting food to stay down and stuff.” She went over and wrapped her arms around him with a sigh.

He looked down at the crown of her head, “You okay?”

“Yeah, just glad to see you.”

The two adults sat in comfortable silence for a while as he held onto her, stroking her back. Toshinori smiled, he had recently been back in touch with his mentor, Gran Torino- he had to tell him about Izuku, and he might have mentioned something about this woman practically in his lap.

“Toshinori?” She looked up at him.

A blush crept over his cheeks and he tried to look mildly interested, “Hm?”

“Can I ask you something personal?”

“Well— sure you can, I don’t see why not.”

She slid to sit beside him and pushed a hand in her hair, “Have you ever dated a woman?” He started coughing up blood, “Oh shit— Oh god I’m sorry—“

“No- no—“ he wiped at it with the stained handkerchief she’d given him, “I just— no I was always too busy for that. I had a job to do.” He blushed, “Not to say I haven’t… seen my share of action.”

Keri nodded and looked away, “Just wondering.”

Clearing his throat he smiled, “So- want to see what I brought you —“

Cutting All Might off was the sound of a recording;

“WARNING, LEVEL THREE SECURITY BREECH. ALL STUDENTS EVACUATE THE BUILDING IN AN ORDERLY FASHION. WARNING, LEVEL THREE SECURITY BREECH—“

Keri shot up, “What!?” She jumped up and started to move toward the door, “Toshi—“

He stood and bulked up into his muscle form, “WE’LL SEE WHAT’S WRONG.”

Keri rushed into the hallway with All Might, “Stop right there you two.” A calm voice rang out over the emergency message, “The press got past our security.”

“The press?”

“Yes, Patho, the press are here and they want All Might,” He cleared his throat, “Eraserhead and Present Mike are down there telling them its his day /off/.”

Toshinori rubbed the back of his head, “SORRY ABOUT THAT… I UH… WANTED TO BRING MISS CHAIRO SOME LUNCH.”

“Well, as it is, we wouldn’t want the press to get any statements from you anyhow.”

Keri raised her hand, “How did the press even get past the security gate…?”

“Thats exactly what I want to know,” Nezu hummed softly.

Recovery Girl came from her office and sighed, “What’s all this then.”

“Reporters,” Nezu looked up at her, “I’ve already phoned the police.”

Keri turned, “Toshi, you have to get out of here once they’re gone.”

“Tch- You… want me to leave?”

She was embarrassed that she was in front of an audience for this, but all the same, “Its your day off, Toshi. You need to go home and rest, and — and I’ll come over after work and check on you okay?”

He smiled and nodded, “Okay, Ree, you’re right… I do need my rest.”

Nezu cleared his throat, “Now… We need to go down and inspect the gate once the police escort everyone away.”

Keri nodded and then stopped, “Oh my god has anyone checked on the kids?! Do they even know what to do in an emergency like this?” She looked back and then started for the elevator to head down to the cafeteria.

All Might started to run after her, Nezu cleared his throat, “This is her specialty, All Might. Let her handle it.”

The man nodded and scratched the back of his head.

“I know there are no fraternization rules here at UA… but that being said… I can’t have you here distracting Patho while she can be meeting with students…”

“F-fraternization!?”

Nezu blinked, “Staff dating.”

“W-we’re not dating!! We’re friends!” Toshinori burned red, a nagging feeling he had felt before in her presence was bubbling up inside of his chest, “But you are right, I can’t come and interrupt someone during their work day because they are my friend. I’m sorry.”

“Its alright, All Might, no harm done,” Nezu smiled, “Why don’t you wait in her office until the police and the reporters are gone?”

He nodded and went back to sit on the sofa, pulling down the privacy curtain he deflated and ran a hand in his blonde hair, “Why does everyone keep saying we’re dating… Keri couldn’t think of me like that, I’m frail and old - all washed up. And soon I’ll be quirkless. I’m twenty years her senior… she deserves better.”

----

Keri ran down toward the cafeteria where the children were all eating lunch — and it was utter chaos, “Shit—!” She gasped and took a deep breath, her forehead starting to glow a bright pink where she stood in the hallway doors. Looking up she saw him, Tenya ida flying through the air and landing on thee external doors.

“EVERYONE!” He cried out.

“Looks like he needs a support hero,” she smiled a little and her whole body began to glow as it had the previous day on the training field - balls of pink light forming on the ends of her fingertips- extending them toward the students, everything began to slowly quiet down. She concentrated - calming waves started to wash over the stampede of kids until between her quirk, and Tenya’s shouts, they were still.

“IT’S JUST THE MEDIA OUTSIDE!” He called out, he too, felt the calming affect come over him but he couldn’t think of it now, “THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT, EVERYTHING’S FINE — WE’RE UA STUDENTS, WE NEED TO REMAIN CALM AND SHOW EVERYONE WE’RE THE BEST OF THE BEST!”

Keri smiled brightly, he had the authority of a great hero. She flexed her fingers open wider and sighs of relief started flooding through the room.

“Wow — did you see that?! That was so manly!” Kirishima shouted.

“Did you notice he looks like the exit sign guy?” Kaminari started laughing.

Deku touched his chest and looked over his shoulder - there at the back of the room stood Patho, glowing pink. He could tell the rest of his classmates were beginning to significantly calm down now.

Police sirens started blaring, “Hey! Its the police!” A girl called out.

“Everyone! If I could have your attention now please!” Keri called out, still glowing. The students turned their heads, “Everyone please return back to lunch time, an announcement will come over when you will be returning to classes!”

Nodding kids started filtering back into the cafeteria to their lunches, while Ururaka started hurrying toward Ida, “That was amazing Ida!” She put her hands together and sighed, “Re… lease!”

Ida fell from the doorway, landing alright on his feet, “I couldn’t have done it without you, Ururaka.” He smiled.

Deku walked up and grinned, “Ida that really was amazing.”

“Yes, Tenya,” Keri said with a smile as she came up behind Deku and Ururaka, “That was really impressive what you did back there.”

“Well I, I know I had your help, miss Chairo.” Tenya blushed a little.

She smiled, “You probably would have been able to command the situation even if I wasn’t here. You were already in the process before I arrived. I just wanted it to go more smoothly. That’s what I’m here for after all.”

Ida smiled, “Thank you… your quirk feels… so strange, I must admit.” He smiled.

Ochaco grinned, “Yeah! Like someone wraps you with a big blanket!”

Keri laughed softly, “Its not the only thing I can make someone feel, but its the most useful I think, now, why don’t you return to your lunches, and try to have a good rest of your day, hm? I’m going to go see to the police.”

“Yes Miss Chairo!” Ida smiled and ushered his classmates back toward their table. Deku gave her a wave which she returned with a smile.

An ominous wind blew across campus as Principal Nezu stood perfectly composed before the crumbled school defense wall. Midnight, Thirteen, Recovery Girl and Patho circled behind. The four women looked slightly bewildered as Nezu began to speak.

“How were ordinary members of the press able to by-pass our security systems? Someone else must have been behind this… Some villain managed to actually infiltrate our school. But was this purely a show of power? Or a declaration of war?” He looked at the rubble and then back to the four women.

Midnight took a deep breath, face solemn, “Whatever quirk did this… it obliterated the wall- Nezu, what are we going to do?”

“It may have eliminated the wall but the sensors are still in tact,” Patho looked up.

“What if its more than one villain? What if it’s a test?” Recovery Girl asked.

Patho looked down to her and then back up, “We have All Might.”

“All Might can’t be everywhere Keri and you know it,” Midnight looked to her, “And if its more than one villain, what is one man to do against that?”

“You’re right, Midnight. We all must be prepared for what could happen next. All the teachers must be informed,” Nezu nodded, “We’ll have a conference after school today.”

“Yes, sir.”

THE VERY NEXT DAY…

“You’re late,” The younger woman smirked, standing in front of the school doors as Toshinori ran up, out of breath, “Doing hero work again?”

“Keri—“ He gasped a breath, “Listen I—“

“Its no use, you’re in trouble, mister,” She giggled.

He ran his hands down his face, “I can’t just— ignore—“

Keri went to him and took his hand, “Calm down idiot, I’m teasing you… but you do need to be more careful - you’re using up your hero time on things other heroes can handle… these kids deserve the most time you can give them.”

He hung his head and held her hand close, kneeling to be a little under her height, “You’re right… You’re always right, Ree…”

“I know,” She smiled and pushed some of his blonde hair back, “Don’t be so dramatic, you don’t have to train 1-A today at least, they’re heading to the USJ right now with Aizawa. They all looked so cute in their little costumes.”

“They’re on their way to the USJ Already!? I thought that was later in the day! Shit I’m supposed to be there!”

She blinked and rubbed the back of her head, “Ah— well then I guess you really are in trouble… come on- lets go up to my office so you can rest, you should be able to make it in time for the end of the training right?”

He stood and clenched his jaw, “This was so irresponsible of me.”

“Things happen, Tosh, just call Thirteen, I’m sure she’ll understand,” holding out her hand she smiled, “Come on, symbol of peace. Let’s get you some breakfast.”

He took her hand and took a deep breath, “Yeah, that will be good, help me recover a bit more.”

------

“Yes… Yes… Understood… Uh-huh— no no I’m sure I can make it there by the end! Yes. Okay.. I’m sorry again… honestly… Okay, bye.” Toshinori hung up his phone and hung his head.

Keri locked the door and pulled down the privacy shade again and walked up to the sofa, kneeling beside Toshinori in his weakened form, “Come here.”

He leaned into her with a frown, she wrapped her arms around him and leaned back. He was laying in her lap as she played with his golden hair, using her quirk to give him some peace of mind, “What on earth would I do without you…” He hummed blissfully as he felt his stress melt away.

“Be sitting here pacing the floor and beating yourself up,” she purred, forehead glowing bright pink as she poured good feelings into the man in her lap. Looking down as he closed his eyes she smiled, blushing slightly, he was so handsome, even — no — especially like this. Like this he was just a man, he was just Toshinori. He was good, kind, valiant, somber, fun — somehow she loved him more like this than like All Might. Well, maybe it was because you can admire and love a symbol - but you fall in love with a person. And there was no denying it in her heart that she was head over heels in love with Toshinori Yagi. Though she would never tell him.

Sighing he wrapped his arms around her waist, somehow the touch didn’t fell inappropriate - this was just their normal interaction. Friends acted like this, right? Toshi sighed and fell asleep for a little while as Keri continued her ministrations.

---

“Toshinori,” a soft voice tempted him from his dreamless sleep, “Toshi… wake up…”

“Nnh… five more minutes.”

A gentle laugh filled the room, “Toshinori my leg is asleep.”

Blinking his blue eyes open he looked up and blushed, “Ah! Oh Patho I’m sorry! How long have I been out! I’m sorry—“

“Stop, stop,” she laughed as he sat himself up and stretched, “You’ve been asleep for half an hour, you needed some rest, it was no trouble.”

“I should call Aizawa,” he coughed a bit and pulled his phone to his ear, “See how things are going.” When he couldn’t reach the man, he tried Thirteen — no answer.

“What’s wrong?”

All Might frowned, “I can’t get either of them on the phone— let me try Aizawa again.”

She stood and stretched, “They are teaching.”

“I know…” he pouted, “Maybe I should just show up there — you know… say something inspiring!” He bulked up and started immediately coughing blood.

“Toshi—!” She was cut off by a knock at the door.

A soft cough sounded out, “Patho? Am I correct that I hear All Might in there?”

“Shit-“ she ran to the door, unlocking it, “Principal Nezu, sir, yes he’s been in here resting.”

“Dear? Will you run downstairs and get me some tea from the lunchroom?”

“Sir, I have tea here…” Nezu shot her a look, “Ah-! Yes… I’ll get tea from the lunch room.” She frowned and cleared her throat, “I will be back,” with that, she left the room.

--

Taking a deep breath she got into the elevator, “Poor Toshinori… he’s going to get one hell of a lecture if ever I heard one…” Walking through the hallways she took stock of everything going down in each classroom, knowing she wasn’t wanted back in her office for a good long while.

Finally after wandering around for almost forty minutes, Patho decided a nice walk outside would do the trick — “MISS CHAIRO!!!” She heard a scream, a familiar one — Tenya.

“Tenya?!” She rushed to the top of the stairs to see the boy sprinting with all his might - looking exhausted, “Tenya what’s wrong?!”

He all but collapsed against the stairs, “The USJ — a villain attack— there’s a hundred easy — Aizawa and Thirteen and the others—“ He was crying.

Patho ran to him, trying to help him up, “Tenya, come with me- we have to tell the Principal exactly what is happening so he can sound the alarm.” The boy nodded, Patho activated her quirk to try and soothe him - though it didn’t do much with all the fear and adrenaline she could feel coming off of him, “You did the right thing running back to the school, Tenya, I’m so proud of you.”

He just stared ahead, trying to remain standing as the rode up the elevator.

Keri helped him down the hall, “NEZU!! NEZU COME QUICK!” She shouted from the hall. Nezu and a Buffed up All Might ran into the hallway.

“Young Ida - what’s wrong—“ Nezu started.

“Principal Nezu, there’s been a villain attack inside the USJ, Thirteen, Aizawa and the class are trying to fight them off - there are so many — they need help!”

Nezu nodded, “Patho - get Tenya to lie down in your office, get him some water - I’m going to sound the alarm and call the police— All Might you — ALL MIGHT?”

The man was running into the stairwell before anyone could say anything. He had to save the kids. He had to. If he had been there none of this would have happened.

Nezu shook his head, “Patho — take care of Ida.”

“Miss Chairo — you have to let me go back to my class—“

“Tenya. You’re exhausted. You have done an incredible thing, and All Might is on his way - the police and other heroes will be on the scene. Right now, you need to sit down for a moment- when Nezu gathers the staff, you can head with them, okay?”
 He nodded, tears in his eyes, “I— I…” He covered his face, taking his glasses off.

Keri knelt by him, setting a glass of water on the coffee table, “Hey now… its alright to cry, you can let it out Tenya, you’re safe here.”

“My friends are in trouble!” He whimpered.

“Yes, but they are capable, as are the heroes with them. Here, I want you to take a sip of water and take a few deep breaths, you need to calm down some so you can return to thee USJ.” She held out the glass for him. He took it and took a few breaths, wiping his eyes, “Thats it Tenya.” She had to focus on the boy in front of her, had to do her job. Her heart was pounding in her own chest knowing Toshinori wasn’t strong enough for this right now.

“Thank you….” He said softly as he took another drink of water, “Miss Chairo… I couldn’t have made it up here without your help.”

“Come on now— lets get up and go see if the teachers are getting ready.”

He nodded and took another breath, standing with renewed vigor — inspiration from Patho’s quirk.

Nezu came into the hallway, “Come on — we’re meeting everyone at the front of the building, the police are on their way. Patho I need you to stay behind and watch the front doors.”

Tenya gave a quick look over to there guidance counselor and for a moment thought he saw a brief look of disappointment or something related cross her face before she uttered, “Yes, sir, I’ll keep an eye for the cops.”

In what seemed like no time at all, all of the pros were gone in the direction of the USJ. Patho stood on the steps of the school, all of the other kids in their classrooms unaware, thinking some staff meeting was called. She looked down at her feet, feeling pathetic once more. She couldn’t even help her students in trouble. She just silently hoped for everyone’s safety.

Turning her head — she heard sirens fast approaching.

#toshinori yagi x oc #my hero academia #all might #all might x oc

[chiseler]

Eve Arden: She Knew All the Answers

“When men get around me, they get allergic to wedding rings,” says Eve Arden’s Ida in Mildred Pierce (1945), a film that won Arden her only Academy Award nomination. Ida is a good egg, a steady, loyal friend to Joan Crawford’s Mildred. “You know, big sister type,” she says, in that inimitably sardonic, wised-up, swooping voice of hers, as she pours herself a stiff drink. “Good old Ida, you can talk it over with her man to man,” she says, of those men who treat her as if she isn’t a woman. Ida says that men are “stinkers” and “heels,” but she doesn’t sound all that mad about it. There isn’t a trace of self-pity in her tone, either. Arden never asks for sympathy. In fact, she never asks for anything. Some things seem to confuse, or bemuse, her on screen, but she was usually just playing that for laughs.

Born Eunice Quedens in 1908 in Mill Valley, California, she was a child of divorce raised mainly by her mother, who encouraged her to drop out of high school and go on the stage. She toured with a stock company and made her film debut in Song of Love (1929), a creaky musical where she played a romantic rival to the heroine. She went back to the stage, only making a brief, uncredited appearance in the Joan Crawford vehicle Dancing Lady (1933) as a blond actress who gets fired when she objects to her treatment in rehearsal. She speaks in a thick Southern accent but then drops it: “I told you that Southern accent would sound phony!” she tells her agent in her own voice. There could be no such artifice for her. Even when she later did Russian and French accents on screen, they were burlesque routines and not meant to be taken seriously.

Statuesque at 5 foot 8 inches, she joined the Ziegfeld Follies in 1934 and was encouraged to change her name. Spotting a perfume bottle in her dressing room with the name Evening in Paris and a cosmetics bottle labeled Elizabeth Arden, she came up with her new name: Eve Arden.  There were a few more years on stage before she returned to the movies in 1937 to play a girl called Eve in Gregory La Cava’s Stage Door. If that movie makes a religion of wisecracking, then Arden is its high priestess, lounging around the Footlights Club for out-of-work actresses with a white cat named Henry draped around her shoulders like a stole.

Eve has lines under her eyes and looks a little tired; she always seems to be reclining. She’s mainly an audience for the other girls, waiting out their carbonated and inventive complaining until the moment when she can add her own topper and make the whole place explode with laughter. “There’s no such thing as a fifty dollar bill,” she insists, and of all the girls she gives Katharine Hepburn’s society dilettante the hardest time. “Is it against the rules of the house to discuss the classics?” asks Hepburn, to which Arden replies, “No-o-o, go right ahead…I won’t take my sleeping pill tonight.”

I’ve seen Stage Door countless times, and so I know what Arden will say and when she will say it and how, but when I try to re-create some of her line readings by saying them out loud, I am unable to get them right. I think it’s because she weights every single word heavily as her reading goes playfully up and down the vocal scale but her overall delivery is still somehow airy, both throbbing with thick sarcasm and strangely light. “Olga wants peace, peace at any price!” cries one of the girls, to which Arden sharply cracks, “Well, you can’t have peace without a war.” That “war” comes out as “wa-a-er,” as if she likes to pick one word to spread her thickest sarcasm over.

When Hepburn asks her what she’s done in the theater, Arden says, “Everything but burst out of a pie at a Rotarian banquet,” a weird line, but one that Arden plays against with her facial expression. She seems to be signaling that Eve has done things like that, but she’s too tired now for chorus girl hanky-panky with jerky businessmen. “Never heard of him,” she says, when Hamlet gets mentioned. “Oh certainly you must have heard of Hamlet,” says a dim Southern girl, to which Arden replies, “Well, I meet so many people,” in a “nice,” polite, nearly ghostly fashion. It’s a profound kind of wisecrack in the very original way that Arden delivers it. She was capable of hitting a pure note of comic exhaustion, like a faded memory of a past life that does not touch her anymore.

Arden never signed to one studio for long, and she made a surprising number of poverty row and independent productions in the 1940s and early ‘50s. She wrestled with Groucho Marx in At the Circus (1939), meeting his aggression with her own, but she often found herself dead last in the cast list. In a bit in Raoul Walsh’s Manpower (1941), the 33-year-old Arden says to pal Marlene Dietrich, “I’m 25, look 35 and feel 50,” and this pitiless line got at something essential about Arden, because there isn’t much difference between her at age 30 or 50 or 70. Her type stays the same no matter what her age, a woman who is past it all and unimpressed and just making the best of things.

Weary of typecasting as sarcastic secretaries and good sports, Arden returned to the stage for a bit but soon went back to support glamour girls like Rita Hayworth in Cover Girl (1944) and Ava Gardner in One Touch of Venus (1948), which is really a film about Arden and her deepening existential dilemma as she looks at gorgeous Ava and looks at herself and wonders, “Why am I me, and why is she that?” Arden flirted with prettiness whenever she opened her blue eyes wide, but she usually did this only for parody purposes. She seems uncomfortable as a promiscuous actress in The Voice of the Turtle(1947), as if she knew that her natural role on screen was to patiently listen to the Joan Crawford’s of this world and gently mock their emotional grandiloquence from the sidelines.

After years of playing support, Arden finally won a star vehicle of her own, first on radio and then on television, as schoolteacher Connie Brooks in Our Miss Brooks, which ran through most of the 1950s. Arden was consistently, tirelessly inventive in that long-running series, mastering the art and timing of situation comedy and providing a template for later players. In the twenty or so minutes of each Our Miss Brooks episode, Arden generally manages to get at least three to four laughs. The writing for that show was usually good or at least serviceable, and if it was ever a little less than that, Arden would still find her laughs in between the lines with little looks and reactions of distaste, disgust or dismayed confusion. She could get a laugh just by smoothing down her skirt, or wincing slightly.

She returned to the screen in Otto Preminger’s Anatomy of a Murder (1959), wearing some grey in her hair as James Stewart’s loyal, kindly and largely unpaid secretary, a woman who will pour some more coffee for you in the middle of the night. It might do to say that Arden’s film characters are stoic or resigned, but that’s not quite it. There’s something else about them, something unclear but suggestive. There’s something even a little mysterious and unplaceable about Eve Arden on screen, as if she isn’t giving too much of herself away for us. She does her job, like her characters do, and we get to enjoy the sound of her helplessly skeptical voice, which enlivened many movies less classic than Stage Door, Mildred Pierce and Anatomy of a Murder, but we don’t ever really get the real her and how she actually feels. She and her characters have retreated somewhere private where they cannot be reached. Maybe that’s why she had such a long career, because audiences always wanted more of her.

She appeared on television a lot as an older woman, dryly reacting to the wacky Kaye Ballard in another series, The Mothers-In-Law, and matching her sour comic timing with Bea Arthur in an episode of Maude. She was still at school as the principal in Grease ( 1978), as if Connie Brooks had climbed up the ladder but still had to put up with inane students and low-level jokes. One of her last credits was as the Wicked Stepmother in Cinderella for Shelley Duvall’s Faerie Tale Theatre series in 1985. Rather satisfyingly, the 77-year-old Arden is asked to gloat over treating the pretty young Jennifer Beals “like dirt” because she and her daughters have not been as well-favored by dissembling nature.

Arden married twice, the second time happily to actor Brooks West, and she raised four children, three of whom were adopted. After her death in 1990, her long-time publicist and manager Glenn Rose said, “She kept being cast as this sarcastic, acid-tongued lady with the quick retort and put-down. In real life, Eve would have never put anyone down. She wasn’t that kind of person.“

by Dan Callahan

#Dan Callahan #Evre Arden #The Chiseler

[katsukikitten]

Majo - Dorm fun

"What are you doing?" Katsuki asks as he flops onto one of the sofas in the common room as you sit crossed legged at the low coffee table.

"Focusing." You almost bite back as you stare into the onyx orb, jotting down movements, thoughts and feelings in your meticulous script. A snort fills the room.

"Focusing in a room that's going to be filled in less than five minutes with fuck all annoying teenagers?" He mocks, "Brilliant plan dummy."

"Yes, it is brilliant. As it will help me to learn how to block people out." You say, eyes prying into a person's life. Their deepest darkest emotions set out before you like a menu.

"Tsk." He grabs for the remote next to your notebook staring along the way, "Does All Might know you're spying on him?"

He flips through the channels idly, remote resting on his stomach while crimson eyes read your scrupulous notes.

"Does it matter?" He hears the grin in your voice without seeing it. He can't help but smirk as you've gained much more confidence since dating him. Still he can't help but tease you.

"I guess not, but be prepared to tell all of class 1A what the hell he's doing in his free time. Especially that derpy Deku."

You wave your hand as if swiping away his words.

"Not everyone has prying eyes like you, Suki." You giggle and he rolls his eyes, "Plus everyone loves the movie you've just picked. No one will be interested."

"Ah okay. If you have notes on yourself in there be sure to jot down *delusional* ."

"Ha. Ha." You say dryly as you dig deeper. All Might stands on the black back drop in his smaller form, with little to no extra aura around him like the first time you saw him. You notate it as booming voices enter the dorm.

Though you cannot see it Katsuki smiles a bit devilishly. He is ready to see exactly how this plays out but will come to your rescue should you need it.

"NO, EIJI, its MY turn to pick the movie!" Mina yells, trying to elbow Kirishima who's currently muscling his way through the group.

"No, I called the dibs after class today. A very important and educational documentary on hero history is coming on that Midoriya and I would like to watch. You guys need to watch it. It will help with exams."

"Uuughhhh that's what SCHOOL is for Ida!" Kaminari comments, "Plus and I want to watch this live concert that they are telecasting from the US."

"Its been weeks since I've had a turn!" Uraraka pouts, "Momo and I have had to stay up so late to watch our recorded shows. And someone keeps deleting them!"

"M..maybe Uraraka can have our dibs Ida?" Miydoria asks shyly.

"According to the calander it's my turn. We are watching horror." Tokoyami states, "Right Asui?"

"Right!" She croaks.

Their voices grow louder as they approach, arguing pulling you from the silence that is All Might's room.

Arguing so loud it begins to drown out All Might's thoughts, leaving you only slightly flustered. You try to focus on the visual in hopes the 'audio' will return. He sips his tea, lounging at his desk and he replies to piled up fan mail idly, neglecting his teaching plans.

Teaching for dummies and a notebook borrowed from Aizawa sit open on his cluttered desk.

"I cannot keep focusing on Midoriya, though he is my protege. Bakugou needs my attention, emotionally. While Y/N, and all the others have such great potential I cannot let my...."

"I SAID ITS MY TURN NOW WHO SELECTED THIS MOVIE?!" Mina howls as she stands in the mouth of the archway. Katsuki holds up the remote to be seen as he growls.

"OI! The rule is first come first serve. Now make the fucking snacks would ya? I've caught you watching this movie a hundred times, what are you bitching for, Pinky?"

"I...I cannot believe you!" A whine but she storms into the kitchen, she pops her pink head out of the kitchen to add, "No one take MY corner of the couch."

"Uhh Ka...kaachan."

"What is it Deku?" True venom drips from your boyfriends kissable lips as he stares up at the emerald eye boy.

"Uhh Uraraka chan would love to be able to watch her show, it starts in a few minutes and..."

"And I don't give a shit." Katsuki glares up harshly at him through thick long lashes before Midoriya guides Urakaka to their usual spot on the couch, despite neither of them admitting their feelings for the other they sure do act like a couple.

"Hey Bakugo. Buddy. I know you're trying to see this fight with me. It will be ultra manly." Kiri says leaning over the couch to try to slip the remote away from his friend's steely grip. Only to be met with a small, almost harmless explosion, "HEY! Watch the hair dude. I'm still trying to hang out with Mina tonight."

"Yea sure, that is until she hears that you didn't try to get the remote for her." Sero teases sitting beside Shoji. He launches a string of tape that evaporates in a series of explosions. He curses to himself as he watches his half baked plan go up in flames.

Your patience runs thin as you push yourself, you half hoped that at least half of them would go to their dorms considering none of them were going to get that remote.

Still they argue, so much so they barely notice what you're doing.

"Hey Bakugo. Are you at least going to sit up?" Todoroki asks, purposefully sitting next to Momo, "Its rude to make your girlfriend sit on the floor."

"What Y/N? Why are you...Oh." Mina enters the room with a variety of snacks on a tray. She sets them down at the far end, peeking over your notebook.

She gasps, drawing even more attention on you as you try to ignore her, ignore them.

Katsuki watches you with heavy eyes, gauging your reaction. He knows he needs to be protective of you. You often push yourself too far and if you had an attack in front of all of your friends you'd never forgive yourself.

"ALL MIGHT?! DOES HE KNOW?!" She snatches the notebook and you try to swipe at her using your peripheral vision but fail.

The entire class is silent, only the commercial can be heard through the entire dorm.

"Mina has a strong acid quirk but needs more mental training. Where she is strong in tenacity she lacks focus." She reads from the notebook, "Wow rude. I am great at focusing."

She unknowingly knocks over Sero's soda as she plops next to Kirishima on the couch.

"Are these his personal notes? I've noticed you kinda adapt to their hand writing when you jot down their thoughts. It's....scary cool." Mina adds, yellow eyes scanning the page. The whole class, aside from Bakugo leans forward on their seats. A few even dropping from the sofa to be closer to you.

"Y...yes." You feel their eyes, their hunger to hear about themselves from their idol. You've never felt their stares with such intensity before, almost nearing close to the weighted gaze of your boyfriend.

None weigh as heavy as his. Though Midoriya's is pretty close right now.

A shiver runs along your spine as it always does when the full twenty set of eyes is on you.

Maybe this was a bad idea? Your cheeks redden just a bit as their thoughts creep to you despite your focus on All Might.

"What does he think about me? Is he proud? Am I doing him justice? Am I doing one for all justice? Will I disappoint him? Will his notes be more negative than positive? Will.."

"Midoriya." Your voice is ever soft yet dark. Katsuki growls inwardly never liking Deku's name to leave your lips.

Those lips are for his name only.

"Midoriya." You say again, you can feel a nose bleed coming on as you fight the darker side of your power. It would be easy to slip into his skin. To flay his mind and bend it to your will through manipulation since he is leaving himself so open, "You might as well be screaming in my face with how loud you're thinking."

His face burns bright red, he goes to open his mouth to say sorry but all you hear is his mind.

"What does it say about me?!"

"He hasn't looked at your notes today for me to know." You say, finally snatching the notebook from Mina without breaking your concentration.

The class shares a look while Katsuki sits up before sliding directly next to you.

"You okay, my enchantress?" He projects the thought like you taught him and it drowns out all the backround noise. You take a sharp inhale before nodding. You smooth your notebook.

"Stop staring." You hiss, "Stop being quiet go back to talking."

But no one offers a word to one another. Bakugou begins to hand out death stares before Kiri pipes up.

"So Mina, the upcoming exams. Think you're gonna need a study partner?"

"OMFG PLEASE PLEASE SAY YOURE OFFERING YOURSELF TO ME EIJI AAAAHHH." You hear Mina scream in her mind. You push it away, leaning closer to Katsuki.

There is something about his intensity that is grounding, most likely because it is a consistent hum. His walls are always up and his will is awe worthy. A nice way of saying how stubborn he is.

All Might types a text to Azawai asking about his dinner plans. He has a lot to discuss, especially Y/N's potential.

"Its crazy she got two proheros who have great will power to lose their tempers in front of all their students. How did she evoke that intense anger? Anger I hadn't felt since..."

You stop writing, suddenly something pulls at your thoughts. At your focus on the black backdrop pulling you into the middle of conciousness. Your heart races as you follow the the sound.

A tune being whistled.

You near ever closer to a dark room as an old bed and cracked mirror begin to fill the space.

A tune you seemed to have forgotten until it dredges up bad memories.

Your rapid breathing becomes audible, you feel Katsuki's hands move to grab your face to pull you out but you hold onto his wrists with such a grip he might bruise.

You know this whistle, its haunted your deepest nightmares as you've lived it.

"Ah there you are little majo. I knew you'd come when I called like a good girl." You know that voice as you're sucked into the dimly lit room with a man much too familar. Though he seems off as his dead eyes stare into the mirror. Doing the same trick he would do while keeping you locked in the dark, seeing how far your mind could wander.

Like a fucked up game of hide and seek.

Your nose bleeds as you stare into a face you could never forget, even if you worked yourself.

You should know. You tried.

"I have a new boss now. He's a good guy pays well." He starts as if you actually give a shit, "I need you to do something for me."

"Go fuck yourself." You growl and its audible in the room you sit in.

You do not hear Katsuki yell for everyone to leave. He's never heard your voice dip so low.

So dark and threatening.

They all leave wide eyed, especially when he explodes the can of soda in Mina's hand when she refuses. Kiri practically swings her over his shoulder to high tail it to his dorm room.

"Y/N." Katsuki whispers in your ear but you do not hear and hold fast onto his wrists. He struggles to free himself from your tiny hands.

"That is not how you speak to your father little witch." A snarl so low, he jumps to stand and you flinch out of habit. Many years were spent in a dark closet, all by his threatening hands.

It is a wonder you are not blind. He laughs at your movement. Your heart pounds into your throat.

"Now listen. Stop being such a selfish bitch and help your old man out. My new boss is a powerful man. I promised him I could do some brainwashing. Some...rearranging on both human and none humans. You need to come to me now. It's going to be a great job. You'll even get to bend the mind of a student there." His smile turns manic.

"You know I can't control anyone." Voice still icy cold as you speak. Eyes beginning to fill with tears of blood as you focus on his shattered mind. One of the few you cannot work.

"Ah ah ah. I feel you poking and prodding. You have to remember that you got your power from MY WIFE." He yells slamming his fist into the mirror, blood drips from his knuckles as four sets of his eyes stare at you.

You yelp while his laugh echoes in the dingy room. You shake, scared, angry.

Broken.

How could this happen?

How could he still summon you?

But most importantly how did he get out of jail?

"Stop trying to sound so tough. I know your limitations. I know the temptation of your curse. My beautiful wife's was very similar, she told me everything. You parasite, you can worm your way into thoughts. Move something here, replace something there. Boom they've bent to your will. Just like you did to your mother and now look what's happened." He gestures to the empty room riddled with needles and rotting take out, "She's left us both to care for one another."

"Now don't let my wife's death be in vain."

"You...you're the one who..." You're shaking so hard, your quirk amplifying as you subconsciously try to force your way into his mind.

"I what? You're just as guilty. You planted the idea of a forced entry in to the very seasoned detective..." He shrugs his shoulders and you scream.

"YOU MADE ME. YOU FUCKING MADE ME." Items fly across the living room as your voice goes raw and youre hardly able to catch your breath.

Your father stands and does something he's never been able to do before, he grabs onto your throat in your conciousness. His eyes glow when before he was quirkless, only being able to summon you through fear.

He squeezes and the bruise appears on your physical body. Crimson eyes widen with worry, with furry.

"H..how?" You choke.

"I told you my new boss was a pretty good guy." He laughs, nails digging into tender flesh. Drawing scarlet half moons, you gasp, eyes watering with tears and blood.

"Y/N!" A whisper.

Seconds stretch into what feels like hours.

"You've got three days to find me." He snarls, "No hints this time either. If you don't. Well let's just say you don't want me to find you."

"Y/N!!!" Katsuki appears on the black drop beside you, eyes burning with hot rage. This is a fight of wills he may not win. Fear grips you as you watch your father look over your shoulder. You act quickly as you push yourself plucking the darling image of your Bakugou from your father's brain as you send Katsuki flying back to the living.

His eyes widen with an emotion you've never seen him wear before.

Fear.

So deeply rooted in your Father's eyes you wonder if this is all a dream. That you'll wake up any second. But as with all emotion with him, it is fleeting.

"I see you've found your soul mate." He leans in closely to add "Do not let me remember them or their death will be slower than your mother's. Three days."

With that he slams you into the floor of consciousness shoving you back in to your body as you claw at your throat.

Your eyes water as you see Katsuki. Shaking sobs rack your body as you scream into his throat.

"NEVER FOLLOW ME AGAIN!" Its hoarse and raw with emotion, so much so that Katsuki stiffens. He runs soothing circles onto your back as you come undone in front if him. Repeating over and over again into his tear soaked neck.

"I can't let him remember. I can't let him remember."

A/N Oops I dont know why I wrote this but here have it. It was originally supposed to be like a cute slice of life AU for Majo but I'm finding out I dont work that way.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x fem reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugo katsuki #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo

[blackkudos]

Ralph Ellison

Ralph Waldo Ellison (March 1, 1913 – April 16, 1994) was an American novelist, literary critic, and scholar best known for his novel Invisible Man, which won the National Book Award in 1953. He also wrote Shadow and Act (1964), a collection of political, social and critical essays, and Going to the Territory (1986). For The New York Times, the best of these essays in addition to the novel put him "among the gods of America's literary Parnassus." A posthumous novel, Juneteenth, was published after being assembled from voluminous notes he left upon his death.

Early life

Ralph Waldo Ellison, named after Ralph Waldo Emerson, was born at 407 East First Street in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, to Lewis Alfred Ellison and Ida Millsap, on March 1, 1913. He was the second of three sons; firstborn Alfred died in infancy, and younger brother Herbert Maurice (or Millsap) was born in 1916. Lewis Alfred Ellison, a small-business owner and a construction foreman, died in 1916, after an operation to cure internal wounds suffered after shards from a 100-lb ice block penetrated his abdomen, when it was dropped while being loaded into a hopper. The elder Ellison loved literature, and doted on his children, Ralph discovering as an adult that his father had hoped he would grow up to be a poet.

In 1921, Ellison's mother and her children moved to Gary, Indiana, where she had a brother. According to Ellison, his mother felt that "my brother and I would have a better chance of reaching manhood if we grew up in the north." When she did not find a job and her brother lost his, the family returned to Oklahoma, where Ellison worked as a busboy, a shoeshine boy, hotel waiter, and a dentist's assistant. From the father of a neighborhood friend, he received free lessons for playing trumpet and alto saxophone, and would go on to become the school bandmaster.

Ida remarried three times after Lewis died. However, the family life was precarious, and Ralph worked various jobs during his youth and teens to assist with family support. While attending Douglass High School, he also found time to play on the school's football team. He graduated from high school in 1931. He worked for a year, and found the money to make a down payment on a trumpet, using it to play with local musicians, and to take further music lessons. At Douglass, he was influenced by principal Inman E. Page and his daughter, music teacher Zelia N. Breaux.

At Tuskegee Institute

Ellison applied twice for admission to Tuskegee Institute, the prestigious all-black university in Alabama founded by Booker T. Washington. He was finally admitted in 1933 for lack of a trumpet player in its orchestra. Ellison hopped freight trains to get to Alabama, and was soon to find out that the institution was no less class-conscious than white institutions generally were.

Ellison's outsider position at Tuskegee "sharpened his satirical lens," critic Hilton Als believes: "Standing apart from the university's air of sanctimonious Negritude enabled him to write about it." In passages of Invisible Man, "he looks back with scorn and despair on the snivelling ethos that ruled at Tuskegee."

Tuskegee's music department was perhaps the most renowned department at the school, headed by composer William L. Dawson. Ellison also was guided by the department's piano instructor, Hazel Harrison. While he studied music primarily in his classes, he spent his free time in the library with modernist classics. He cited reading T. S. Eliot's The Waste Land as a major awakening moment. In 1934, he began to work as a desk clerk at the university library, where he read James Joyce and Gertrude Stein. Librarian Walter Bowie Williams enthusiastically let Ellison share in his knowledge.

A major influence upon Ellison was English teacher Morteza Drezel Sprague, to whom Ellison later dedicated his essay collection Shadow and Act. He opened Ellison's eyes to "the possibilities of literature as a living art" and to "the glamour he would always associate with the literary life." Through Sprague Ellison became familiar with Fyodor Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment and Thomas Hardy's Jude the Obscure, identifying with the "brilliant, tortured anti-heroes" of those works.

As a child, Ellison evidenced what would become a lifelong interest in audio technology, starting by taking apart and rebuilding radios, and later moved on to constructing and customizing elaborate hi-fi stereo systems as an adult. He discussed this passion in a December 1955 essay, "Living With Music," in High Fidelity magazine. Ellison scholar John S. Wright contends that this deftness with the ins-and-outs of electronic devices went on to inform Ellison's approach to writing and the novel form. Ellison remained at Tuskegee until 1936, and decided to leave before completing the requirements for a degree.

In New York

Desiring to study sculpture, he moved to New York City on 5 July 1936 and found lodging at a YMCA on 135th Street in Harlem, then "the culture capital of black America." He met Langston Hughes, "Harlem's unofficial diplomat" of the Depression era, and one—as one of the country's celebrity black authors—who could live from his writing. Hughes introduced him to the black literary establishment with Communist sympathies.

He met several artists who would influence his later life, including the artist Romare Bearden and the author Richard Wright (with whom he would have a long and complicated relationship). After Ellison wrote a book review for Wright, Wright encouraged him to write fiction as a career. His first published story was "Hymie's Bull," inspired by Ellison's 1933 hoboing on a train with his uncle to get to Tuskegee. From 1937 to 1944, Ellison had over 20 book reviews, as well as short stories and articles, published in magazines such as New Challenge and The New Masses.

Wright was then openly associated with the Communist Party, and Ellison was publishing and editing for communist publications, although his "affiliation was quieter," according to historian Carol Polsgrove in Divided Minds. Both Wright and Ellison lost their faith in the Communist Party during World War II, when they felt the party had betrayed African Americans and replaced Marxist class politics with social reformism. In a letter to Wright, dated August 18, 1945, Ellison poured out his anger with party leaders: "If they want to play ball with the bourgeoisie they needn't think they can get away with it. ... Maybe we can't smash the atom, but we can, with a few well chosen, well written words, smash all that crummy filth to hell." In the wake of this disillusion, Ellison began writing Invisible Man, a novel that was, in part, his response to the party's betrayal.

In 1938 Ellison met Rosa Araminta Poindexter, a woman two years his senior. They were married in late 1938. Rose was a stage actress, and continued her career after their marriage. In biographer Arnold Rampersad's assessment of Ellison's taste in women, he was searching for one "physically attractive and smart who would love, honor, and obey him--but not challenge his intellect." At first they lived at 312 West 122nd Street, Rose's apartment, but moved to 453 West 140th Street after her income shrank. In 1941 he briefly had an affair with Sanora Babb, which he confessed to his wife afterward, and in 1943 the marriage was over.

At the start of World War II, Ellison was classed 1A by the local Selective Service System, and thus eligible for the draft. However, he was not drafted. Toward the end of the war, he enlisted in the United States Merchant Marine. In 1946, he married Fanny McConnell, an accomplished person in her own right: a scholarship graduate of the University of Iowa who was a founder of the Negro People's Theater in Chicago and a writer for The Chicago Defender. She helped support Ellison financially while he wrote Invisible Man by working for American Medical Center for Burma Frontiers (the charity supporting Gordon S. Seagrave's medical missionary work). From 1947 to 1951, he earned some money writing book reviews but spent most of his time working on Invisible Man. Fanny also helped type Ellison's longhand text and assisted him in editing the typescript as it progressed.

Published in 1952, Invisible Man explores the theme of man's search for his identity and place in society, as seen from the perspective of the first-person narrator, an unnamed African American man in the New York City of the 1930s. In contrast to his contemporaries such as Richard Wright and James Baldwin, Ellison created characters that are dispassionate, educated, articulate, and self-aware. Through the protagonist, Ellison explores the contrasts between the Northern and Southern varieties of racism and their alienating effect. The narrator is "invisible" in a figurative sense, in that "people refuse to see" him, and also experiences a kind of dissociation. The novel also contains taboo issues such as incest and the controversial subject of communism.

Later years

In 1964, Ellison published Shadow and Act, a collection of essays, and began to teach at Bard College, Rutgers University and Yale University, while continuing to work on his novel. The following year, a Book Week poll of 200 critics, authors, and editors was released that proclaimed Invisible Man the most important novel since World War II.

In 1967, Ellison experienced a major house fire at his summer home in Plainfield, Massachusetts, in which he claimed more than 300 pages of his second novel manuscript were lost. A perfectionist regarding the art of the novel, Ellison had said in accepting his National Book Award for Invisible Man that he felt he had made "an attempt at a major novel" and, despite the award, he was unsatisfied with the book. Ellison ultimately wrote more than 2,000 pages of this second novel but never finished it.

Ellison died on April 16, 1994 of pancreatic cancer and was interred in a crypt at Trinity Church Cemetery in the Washington Heights neighborhood of Upper Manhattan.

Awards and recognition

Invisible Man won the 1953 US National Book Award for Fiction.

The award was his ticket into the American literary establishment. He eventually was admitted to the American Academy of Arts and Letters, received two President's Medals (from Lyndon Johnson and Ronald Reagan) and a State Medal from France. He was the first African-American admitted to the Century Association and was awarded an honorary Doctorate from Harvard University. Disillusioned by his experience with the Communist Party, he used his new fame to speak out for literature as a moral instrument. In 1955 he traveled to Europe, visiting and lecturing, settling for a time in Rome, where he wrote an essay that appeared in a 1957 Bantam anthology called A New Southern Harvest. Robert Penn Warren was in Rome during the same period, and the two writers became close friends. Later, Warren would interview Ellison about his thoughts on race, history, and the Civil Rights Movement for his book Who Speaks for the Negro? In 1958, Ellison returned to the United States to take a position teaching American and Russian literature at Bard College and to begin a second novel, Juneteenth. During the 1950s, he corresponded with his lifelong friend, the writer Albert Murray. In their letters they commented on the development of their careers, the Civil Rights Movement, and other common interests including jazz. Much of this material was published in the collection Trading Twelves (2000).

Writing essays about both the black experience and his love for jazz music, Ellison continued to receive major awards for his work. In 1969, he received the Presidential Medal of Freedom; the following year, he was made a Chevalier of the Ordre des Arts et des Lettres by France and became a permanent member of the faculty at New York University as the Albert Schweitzer Professor of Humanities, serving from 1970 to 1980.

In 1975, Ellison was elected to the American Academy of Arts and Letters, and his hometown of Oklahoma City honored him with the dedication of the Ralph Waldo Ellison Library. Continuing to teach, Ellison published mostly essays, and in 1984, he received the New York City College's Langston Hughes Medal. In 1985, he was awarded the National Medal of Arts. In 1986, his Going to the Territory was published; this is a collection of seventeen essays that included insight into southern novelist William Faulkner and Ellison's friend Richard Wright, as well as the music of Duke Ellington and the contributions of African Americans to America's national identity.

In 1992, Ellison was awarded a special achievement award from the Anisfield-Wolf Book Awards; his artistic achievements included work as a sculptor, musician, photographer, and college professor as well as his writing output. He taught at Bard College, Rutgers University, the University of Chicago, and New York University. Ellison was also a charter member of the Fellowship of Southern Writers.

Legacy and posthumous publications

After Ellison's death, more manuscripts were discovered in his home, resulting in the publication of Flying Home and Other Stories in 1996. In 1999 his second novel, Juneteenth, was published under the editorship of John F. Callahan, a professor at Lewis & Clark College and Ellison's literary executor. It was a 368-page condensation of more than 2000 pages written by Ellison over a period of 40 years. All the manuscripts of this incomplete novel were published collectively on January 26, 2010, by Modern Library, under the title Three Days Before the Shooting...

On February 18, 2014, the USPS issued a 91¢ stamp honoring Ralph Ellison in its Literary Arts series.

A park on 150th Street and Riverside Drive in Harlem (near 730 Riverside Drive, Ellison's principal residence from the early 1950s until his death) was dedicated to Ellison on May 1, 2003. In the park stands a 15 by 8-foot bronze slab with a "cut-out man figure" inspired by his book, "Invisible Man."

Bibliography

Invisible Man (Random House, 1952). ISBN 0-679-60139-2

Flying Home and Other Stories (Random House, 1996). ISBN 0-679-45704-6; includes the short story "A Party Down at the Square"

Juneteenth (Random House, 1999). ISBN 0-394-46457-5

Three Days Before the Shooting... (Modern Library, 2010). ISBN 978-0-375-75953-6

Essay collections

Shadow and Act (Random House, 1964). ISBN 0-679-76000-8

Going to the Territory (Random House, 1986). ISBN 0-394-54050-6

The Collected Essays of Ralph Ellison (Modern Library, 1995). ISBN 0-679-60176-7

Living with Music: Ralph Ellison's Jazz Writings (Modern Library, 2002). ISBN 0-375-76023-7

Letters

Trading Twelves: The Selected Letters of Ralph Ellison and Albert Murray (Modern Library, 2000). ISBN 0-375-50367-6

#03/01 #04/16

[oliviridian]

I think we can look at our generation as survivors of the 2008 financial crash and compare ourselves to the "Greatest" Generation who went from the Great Depression into World War 2. The key difference though is that our wars never end and there's no economic opportunity or growth that is accessible to us as things stratify more and more. This sort of led us to skip the "50s" and jump right to a counter-culture 60s style movement where everyone is looking for alternative modes of living, especially those outside of Capitalism. When we're told what worked for our parents, we know it doesn't work for us. You cannot walk into a place a demand a job, everything is online and requesting years of experience many of us are too young to have unless we started working at 16.

David Howe writes in "Modernity, Postmodernity and Social Work" that social work began fragmenting in response to the uncertainty of the 90s and it's my view that this same fragmentation has only become more intense as the world has created small enclaves for all of us within the internet. It's very difficult to understand the world and because all of us use different fractal lenses it's almost impossible to use a universal approach for an increasingly diverse public. Social Work is likely going to have to become much more focused on types of population. In my personal experience, therapy has never been more helpful than with an LGBT clinician who understands my life better. We cannot become generalists anymore and expect to help everyone.

This piece by Cheryl Waites, "Building on Strengths: Intergenerational, Practice with African American Families" represents a part of this inevitable response by the Social Work community which is increasingly specific modalities of treatment that should as you suggest be applied as a gestalt of the identities of each individual client. I agree that Strengths-Based work is most effective for people with relatively few problems that are structural in nature and that it only really works for people with personal issues. More and more as inequity becomes normalized and fascist demagogues consolidate power, we will find focusing on our own worth less useful than the worth of our communities.  Waites focuses on intergenerational and solidarity-based models because these models are resilient to the kinds of systemic oppression Black communities have suffered for the past 200 years in America. Similar methods will likely be useful to us as capitalism further degrades and more and more people become dangerously marginalized. This will, of course, be more dangerous for those of us who are already heavily marginalized.

Solution-based models feel strong because our issues are generally things like a lack of ability to eat, pay bills, get medical care. Social work that solves that problem in the moment will help and save lives, that's very important. But in my social work history course, we talked about a sort of bygone social work strategy, the strategy of people like Ida B Wells, Malcolm X, W.E.B Dubois, and Bayard Rustin who advocated for broader social change. The problems our clients face will not go away without an effort to force the government to better care for its people in an equitable way. This could come in the form of reparations for slavery, medicare for all, better public transit, better community housing, and less predatory military recruitment of the poor. I think in all our problems, class warfare and the lack of power of the lower class is the common denominator issue that every client we serve will be suffering from.

 I think my practice will focus on highlighting how inequalities are not the fault of my client and giving them the most resources I can reasonably allocate to each one. Strengths-based stuff is useful for rapport but I don't think I'll consider it as a long term solution, just as a tool in getting to know them well enough to know what it is they really need if they can't clearly communicate it easily. It's fun and rewarding to try to empower our clients, especially the clients who are most beat-down and discouraged but we have to remember that people have material conditions that drive them to their needs. One might call that a Marxist Social Work practice since it focuses on historical materialism and the circumstances of the client. In Howe's piece, he refers to this sort of work as "Relativistic" which ironically would represent a post-modern approach to social work when I am attempting to ground my practice in a fundamentally modernist Marxist perspective.

#social work #thinkin

[lazella]

Mermay 2020 Day 11: The Gift

Fall was descending over Ireland’s rocky shores. Fishing was finally winding down allowing Ronan and Maury to spend more time around the house. For Ronan, he was counting down the days to his birthday. From what Ida understood, it was a day where they celebrated the day Ronan was born into this world. A concept foreign to merfolk as they had no such celebrations which shocked the human family when she shared this fact. Part of this celebration involved gift giving which left Ida rather stumped, what could she give Ronan.

“Don’t feel so troubled…” Emily said during their weekly knitting lessons, “Men are so hard to find gifts for. You think with me knowing my husband so well it would be easy for me but trust me my dear…it gets harder.”

“Why?” Ida asked confused by the implication.

“Well…” Emily tapped her chin in thought, “My husband uses whatever I get him, and it lasts him a long time so the list of things he needs or wants gets smaller.”

“What happens if you run out of things?” Ida asked next.

“That’s the unique things about gifts, they don’t have to be objects.” Emily smiled, “Sometimes the best gift is just spending time with the person to show how much you appreciate them.”

Ida thought over what Emily shared; gifts don’t have to be physical objects? How was that even possible.

“I can tell that you are heavily thinking about this…” Emily said, noticing Ida’s expression, “I suppose that you are trying to figure out what to do for Ronan’s birthday?”

“Yes…I truly have no idea what to do….” Ida sighed, “He seems to have everything he needs, and I still don’t know a lot about human culture to go searching for a gift on my own.”

“How about something from your culture then?”

Ida’s head snapped up at Emily’s suggestion, “Pardon?”

“Ronan has shared so much about our lives here on land, but I don’t think he knows a lot about your culture….” Emily gave a gentle smile, “Maybe your gift to him is to share your culture.”

The suggestion weighed heavily on Ida’s mind for the next week. Share more of her culture with Ronan? She ran away from that culture for a reason! There was nothing she could think of that could match the wonders he showed her.

“You could give him shells!” The sprites had started given their suggestions during one of their visits.

“He sees shells all the time…there’s nothing special about them…” Ida sighed.

“What about fish?”

“He’s a fisherman.”

“Pretty rocks?”

Ida groaned into her pillow, “You are really not helping.”

“Well we usually aren’t the ones giving the gifts…” The green sprite pouted, “We don’t even know what humans find special.”

“Human women seem to like jewels and fine fabrics, but human men seem to have few things they value….” Ida sunk into her pillow, “The only thing I’ve seen Ronan treasure is his guitar.”

“What’s a guitar?” The blue sprite asked.

“It’s a human instrument that makes music.”

“Music…music…I KNOW!” The blue sprite whispered something into Ida’s ear-fin.

“Are you crazy!” Ida sat up, “That’s all the way back…home….” She shuddered at the thought.

“We could get it for you.” The red sprite smirked.

Ida gave them a flat look, “You three…getting that thing all the way across the ocean without being seen?”

“Have some faith in us!” The green one puffed up with pride, “We’ll take care of it with no one the wiser.”

“We’ll be back!” The three sprites left through the window leaving Ida very worried. Though those fears were unwarranted as the very next night the sprites returned with their prize. Ida couldn’t thank them enough and gave them extra strawberries. She asked for the thing called ‘wrapping paper’ from Coral to wrap her present disguising its form and waited for the day of Ronan’s celebration.

The house was lively, full of those who were aware of Ida’s secret, drinking and being merry. Ida hung back against the wall for most of it, not used to this level of revelry. She was just waiting for a calm moment to pull Ronan to the side to give her gift. Though that was proving to be difficult, especially when someone put on some rather fast music and the party goers attempted some sort of dance. It ended with the dancers in a pile on the floor, Ronan included.

Deciding that this party scene wasn’t for her, Ida prepared to wheel herself off to her room and wait for later in the evening. But the one thing about a mermaid in a wheelchair, she was still very hard to miss.

“Hey Ida! Where you’re going?!” A party goer called out to her.

“Not used to the noise?” Someone else asked.

“Come join us! You’ll be partying in no time!”

“Now now boys….” Emily had come to Ida’s rescue, “You know us ladies need a break from the testosterone from time to time…Let’s head to the back porch dear…” She rolled Ida out of the chaos and into the cool night.

“Thank you Emily…” Ida sighed in relief.

“Still feeling troubled?” The older woman asked.

Ida nodded, “I want to give Ronan his gift but….I just can’t seem to find the time.”

Emily got her serious mom face on and straightened her back, “Give my five minutes dear and I’ll take care of that problem…should I move you to the bench first?”

Ida looked at the bench Emily referred to, “Yes please, I think it will be great.”

Emily quickly transferred her over and disappeared back into the house. Ida fiddled with her hands as she waited, nervous about the upcoming moment. She really hoped that she could do this tradition of gift giving right.

Ronan emerged from the house a few minutes later, “Hey Ida…sorry if the party is a little much for you…”

“It’s alright…” Ida barely managed to say without a stutter, “I’ve never seen a celebration like that before.”

“Us Irish can get a little insane when it comes to celebrations….” Ronan sat down next to Ida, “It’s a time we can spend with friends and family and just live life…”

“It was nothing like that back home for me…” Ida admitted, “If we did celebrate anything, it was with a much more serious atmosphere with strict rituals.”

“Honestly…. that sounds…sad.” Ronan said.

“You would be right…” Ida gripped the present a little tighter, “It felt wrong to enjoy ourselves…I wasn’t happy. It’s one of the reasons why……why I ran away.”

Ronan stared at her in shock, “You ran away?”

“I just couldn’t take it anymore…I couldn’t feel free in the water….” Ida blinked back a few tears, “It was like I was always living for someone else’s desires and mine were never considered. I had no control over my life, and I was sick of it! I just wanted to decide for myself, is that so hard?!”

Ronan threw his arms around Ida, “No it’s not…you have every right to take charge of yourself. I’m sorry that you had to run away like that to get control over your own life.”

Ida cried into Ronan’s shoulder, letting her built up emotions drain out. Eventually she calmed down and wiped her tears, “Sorry…”

“Don’t be…” Ronan squeezed her hand, “Sometimes we just need to let it out.”

Ida nodded and decided to take her chance to seize the moment, “I have a gift for you…for your birthday.” She said as she handed him the package.

“You do?” Ronan seemed really surprised, “You really didn’t have too…”

“You’ve done so much for me and it’s only fair that I at least do something for you in return…” Ida said while trying not to blush.

Ronan took the package and began carefully removing the paper. Ida watched as he slowly revealed the gift within. Starting with the carved rock and coral, to the carefully spun strings. At last shining in the moonlight, was Ida’s old lyre.

“Is this…” Ronan carefully picked up the instrument, “Is this….”

“The lyre I made a long time ago…” Ida played with her hair, “Music in many forms is important to us so we all learn how to craft at least one type of instrument.”

“You made this yourself?” Ronan stared at her in disbelief as she nodded in confirmation, “Ida…. thank you. Honestly thank you! This is an amazing gift!” His smile was the biggest Ida has ever seen, “Again thank you!” Then he kissed her on the cheek.

They both froze for a moment as they processed what just happened.

“Sorry…” Ronan covered his mouth in embarrassment, “I don’t know what came over me.”

Ida carefully felt the cheek Ronan had kissed; the sensation has made her stomach flip flop in a good way. It was at that moment, she liked the fact that Ronan had kissed her and hoped he would do it again.

“I didn’t mind….” Ida said to reassure Ronan, “How about I teach you how to play?”

Ronan nodded like an excited child, “Please!”

As the sounds of drunken revelry echoed from inside the house, the delicate sounds of lullabies and love songs echoed in the cool air that represented an ever growing bond.

#mermay #mermay 2020 #mermaids #from sea to land and back again

[dailyaudiobible]

11/10/2019 DAB Transcript

Ezekiel 21:1-22:31, Hebrews 10:1-17, Psalms 108:1-13, Proverbs 27:12

Today is the 10th day of November. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I am Brian. It's great to be here with you as we reach out collectively and twist the knob and swing wide the door into a brand-new shiny, sparkly, new week that is waiting for us to live into. And we make mention of this lots of weeks because it's all out in front of us friends. Nothing…nothing had gone wrong or right and how we live into this week, how we conduct ourselves in thought, word, and deed is indeed gonna write the story of the week. And, so, allowing the Scriptures to be part of the rhythm of our days and our weeks gives us the counsel we need for the next steps that we are to take. So, here we go taking the next step forward. This week we’ll read from the Christian Standard Bible, and we’re still working our way through the book of Ezekiel in the Old Testament and working our way through the letter to the Hebrews in the New. So, first Ezekiel chapter 21 and 22.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for bringing us into this new week, this shiny, sparkly, new week as we often say because that's what it is. So, we invite Your Holy Spirit into all that we do, all that we think, all that we say, all that we are in this week. We ask that You would lead us into all truth as You've promised. We ask that You would illuminate our path as You promised. And we ask that as we come here each and every day to be fed and nourished by Your word that it would do just that - feed our souls and direct our paths. We pray all of these things in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website, it is certainly home base, a place that’s always open and always on and always a place to find out what's going on around here and a place to reach out.

So, it's home base and it is the home of the Prayer Wall, which you can find in the Community section of the website where brothers and sisters are reaching out for, or in prayer for one another on a continual basis. So, be sure to be aware of that. And that’s the thing about this community, we have prayed for each other all of these years and it has been a place of tremendous healing over the years. So, stay connected through prayer at the Daily Audio Bible Prayer Wall.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that dailyaudiobible.com as well. There is a link and it lives on the homepage and we wouldn't be here, none of us would be here taking this journey through the Scriptures, at least like this, if we were not in this together. And, so, I thank you for your partnership. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app, you can press the Give button and that is in the upper right-hand corner of the app or the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or comment 877-942-4253 is the number to dial or you can press the Hotline button, the little red button in the Daily Audio Bible app, and just go from there.

And that is it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi DAB friends this is Stephanie from Bangalore currently in the US. I actually have news about my visa…well…I have news about my passport is on its way back and I should, Lord willing, receive it tomorrow, Lord willing, there will be a visa in it. If not, well, I guess we’ll breathe and see what God does next. But the real reason for my calling is once again my friend’s son Jack who is an eight-year-old who was diagnosed with leukemia just over a month ago now and he has been very, very sick in the ICU. Basically, they did a biopsy yesterday on his kidney and praise God he didn’t bleed out or anything during the biopsy but it came back for a very aggressive type of Fungus, Mucor fungus, I think that’s what she said it was, and it is attacking his body, it has attacked his spinal cord, he has no feeling or ability to move from his navel down. They keep testing him to make sure that it’s not affecting higher but currently he’s intubated and sedated because it was getting so hard for him to breathe and his heart is starting to get irritated with the infection. Please pray that they can find the right drug to treat this very very quickly. She said her interpretation was that today, and today is 5th November, I don’t know when this will play of course but…but today is crucial. The PICU doctors need to keep his body going long enough so that Lord willing the drugs will start to treat the infection, his body can ramp up and treat the infection or fight the infection. So, please pray for them, for the doctors, for Jack’s body and for the death of this fungus. Thank you.

Hello, Daily Audio Bible this is Duane from Wisconsin all praise and glory to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Today is day 139 praying for our children. It is November 5th, yes, November already. Calling in for Ida who would like us to pray for her niece Julie who’s missing. I know that was a few days ago but I pray she has been found. I pray she is safe. Please call in to update us on that Ida. Rob called in. Rob Worship Dude would like us to pray for his son who is dealing with some blood clots. Betty would like us to pray for her son Nathan whose dealing with emotional issues. Angela Q would like us to pray for her son Grant and his relationship with the Lord. And then there was a lady who called in and wanted us to pray for her daughter who is moving. They have an eight-year-old son and are going to alternate years of when they get to see him. So, let’s pray. Dear Lord, we ask that You pray with these…excuse me…be with these children Lord. We ask that You wrap Your arms around them and that You keep them safe, give them direction in their life, be with their parents, that they will be a godly parents and speak encouraging words to them and keep them safe in a godly manner. Also, if you’d please continue to pray for my sons Nicholas and Nathan that they’re safe and everything is going well and also my stepdaughter Brooke, if you’d pray for her. She’s having shoulder pain, had that for quite some time, that that would heal and she’s also some other physical issues, so I’d appreciate that. Want to lift this all up to the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Brian and Jill, we thank you for this wonderful podcast and this opportunity to share in God’s love and pray for each other. Love you all. Bye.

Yo what’s up it’s Jack. I’ve always been kind of like scared to call in but now it’s so easy is just kinda like I’m just going to go with it because right now I really need some help. Kind of gotten to that point where I’ve just given up and kinda like, “God I need you to take it all because I can’t handle it anymore.” I don’t know what to do. So, I just want to let you all know. Like, I have a daughter. Her name is McKinley. She’s like the best thing in the world. Definitely having like bad thoughts that maybe what if it wasn’t my daughter. And I don’t have thoughts like that because I’m not sure if that’s what I should be thinking. I’m thinking that cause me and my long-term girlfriend, we’ve been on and off, are having a hard time right now. But I would just like to ask for prayers to help me do what God wants me to do and help me see the path that He’s created for me. Thank you, guys and have a great day.

Hey brothers and sisters in the Lord Yeshua, just greet you in the name of Jesus. I just want to say that I love you and I want to tell you how much I am just so thankful for you. I don’t know where you’re at in this world, you know, and God knows and I just say you’re part of my body the body of Christ, we’re all one, we’re part of the body and I just wanted to reach out and say I love you and just to hang in there, not just to hang in there, but to just cast your burdens upon the Lord Yeshua. And I just want to pray over you a blessing and I just want to say, Father thank You so much for Yeshua, Your son Jesus Christ who died in the cross, who took our sins and who restored us back to You so that we could be one with You as Yeshua Jesus is one with You. Thank You that You gave us Your Spirit, Your precious Holy Spirit to come and abide in us and to live with us. And Father, I ask You Holy Spirit that as I’m praying here that You would just touch my brother, my sister right now, that You would just break off any hardness of heart, that You would lift up their heart, that You would take the pain that’s in their heart Lord and just heal it to remove it. Lord that You would take the pain in the heart and You would shape them and mold them into a vessel that You are pleased with. Lord I ask that if there’s any unforgiveness that it would be removed and that they would be filled with the love of Elohim so that they can spread the message of the good news in Jesus’ name. I love You brothers and sisters have a great and amazing day.

Good morning Daily Audio Bible it’s Diana from Virginia. I wanted to say a big thank you to Brian today for your commentary on Ezekiel. Today is November 6th and I just wanted to let you know that this truly touched me. This spoke to me personally. I __, I __  and thank you for the wonderful music, because that helped me to stay in the moment and reflect. That was truly powerful. Thank you for reminding me that God is not just this, you know, this forever big unemotional being. God is somebody that has feelings. Thank you for bringing that to reality for me. Thank you. And I hope that this touched a lot…I am…I am…I hope this touched a lot of people too because so many times we kind of just go through the motions and think we can just go to God and ask for forgiveness and move on and I’ve been guilty of that. And, so, I hope that I can come back to this and remind myself when I fall out that…like that little girl in Ezekiel. So, thank you so much for that. I just wanted to let you know how powerful that was. Thank you.

[sleepy-and-anxious]

1 to freakin' 25, u lil git

... *Bad Karma by Ida Maria plays in the background* .... I brought this on myself. 

1. Favourite place to write.

[answered] 

2. Favourite part of writing.

I love the brainstorming and piecing together the beginning scenes the most. Its just pure creation and I love it. 

3. Least favourite part of writing.

When I eventually stumble upon plot holes or scenes I havent figured out yet... It sucks.

4. Do you have writing habits or rituals?

I must have a hot drink or an iced coffee, uh... I can never write in my jammies so I’ve gotta at least be dressed... I usually start off a day of writing by getting myself in the zone... so I usually wake up and listen to WIP playlists for a bit first... uh.... I don’t think I do anything else. 

5. Books or authors that influenced your style the most.

Hmmm... V.E Schwab is 100% an influence bc... weird goth fantasy... so I guess i’ve also got to include Neil Gaiman in here too... But they both have completely different writing styles to me. 

I guess I also took influence from Mariana Zapata’s slow burn romances. I can’t really think of any others... 

6. Favourite character you ever created.

Nora Amonet was my favourite for a good 6/7 years because she used to be an MC so I have a real soft spot for her. If not her I’ve gotta say her son - August. 

7. Favourite author.

Stated above - V.E Schwab and Mariana Zapata. They’re my insta-buy authors. 

8. Favourite trope to write.

Mutual Pining because I hate myself. 

9. Least favourite trope to write.

If I didn’t like it I wouldn’t write it???? Its why I don’t do love triangles... 

10. Pick a writer to co-write a book with and tell us what you’d write about.

Uhhhhhh the idea of co-writing confuses me because I like full creative control over my children but... If I had to pick.... 

You and I would make a crazy techno vampire story or maybe just a crazy dark noir style cyberpunk - I blame you for this idea. 

@elonanwrites and I would make one hell of an amazing paranormal world.  

@zielenheil and I would create something TRAGIC and intellectual with our combined 2 brain cells.

@carrotgirl-1 and I could make some cute magical realism low sci-fi hybrid story. I’d want to see what we could go with the Magical Girl anime trope. 

@type-writings and I could boss out an epic high fantasy with some dark as fuck magic system. 

11. Describe your writing process from scratch to finish.

Uh.... Idea, brainstorming (long time yo), vague outline, START, Maintain, finish (????) 

12. How do you deal with self-doubts?

Um I guess I rely on the fact that I hope my fronds ain’t lying to me when they say that they love my stuff??? Other than that I really don’t deal asdfghjkl;

13. How do you deal with writers block?

Push through it - I kinda don’t believe in writers block? Usually if I feel blocked its usually just burnout or procrastination.... 

14. What’s the most research you ever put into a book?

*looks over at the fuck load of art history books I have on my shelf*.... TEOM is hurting me. 

15. Where does your inspiration come from?

[answered] 

16. Where do you take your motivation from?

[answered] 

17. On avarage, how much writing do you get done in a day?

[answered] 

18. What’s your revision or rewriting process like?

I’m yet to get to it!!!! So... Idk yet. 

19. First line of a WIP you’re working on.

“I woke in a pool of my own vomit to the sound of gunshots.” 

20. Post a snippet of a WIP you’re working on.

Random screenshot I have on my desktop from GFS. You’re welcome. 

21. Post the last sentence you wrote in one of your WIP’s.

“But I didn’t take my gaze from the three that were squeezed together across from me.” 

22. How many drafts do you need until you’re satisfied and a project is ultimately done for you?

I don’t know... I feel like GFS is probably going to be around 4/5??? We shall see. 

23. Single or multi POV, and why?

I love multi POV... But, I rarely have stories with multi-pov. 

24. Poetry or prose, and why?

Prose!!!!! I only really like short form poetry. 

25. Linear or non-linear, and why?

.... 

Hmmmm.... 

Linear... but... not always. 

DONE!!!!! 

[johndoesthingsyes]

SPECIAL THEME:

LOVE & CREATION IN A WORLD OF AUTHORITY & REPRESSION

I’m beginning my series of reviews with a special Film Trio centered around the theme above. The three films reviewed and discussed are: 1) Cold War; 2) Never Look Away & 3) If Beale Street Could Talk.

Having seen those three films with a few weeks interval, I feel they shared really great similitudes in their treatment of love, of the artist’s place in society and of the importance of memory.

I hope you’ll enjoy what I finally came up with!

Cold War (1/3)

Paweł Pawlikowski, 2018

Romantic Social Drama

Paweł Pawlikowski’s new film comes all wrapped up in a sumptuous black-and-white - like his previous Ida- which contrast illuminates each scene throughout the entire feature, thanks to a raw and stripped off style of the cinematographer Lukasz Zal.

In heart-felt and almost documentary type shots, the film offers the portrait of a war-torn countryside, which pure and bared landscapes echo the difficulties of cold-hearted times. But inside that apparent cold, lies a human warmth, which is what Pawlikowski is interested in portraying. Portraits of men and women of all ages and all conditions shots as photographs of a nation, the film seems to reconnect to that golden age of Italian neo-realism. Where a film, throughout an apparent narrative, depicts the struggles of a country and its people - and especially the ones of lower classes.

Proof is that scene where the crowd coming from everywhere is waiting outside the auditorium to get in for auditioning. Filmed in a high-angle shot, it reminded me of a scene in Ladri di Bicicletta by Vittorio De Sica where, outside the job center, social workers are waiting to be called to get some work. Feverish, the audience waits for the main character’s name to be called, empathizing with him, hoping he’s gonna work today to earn the daily bread for his family. And as we know from the start that not everybody’s gonna get called. In the same way that, in Cold War, “not everyone is gonna get in and be seen today” - flat-out truth that a high level of demands cannot be answered. And all of that for the love of singing, the love of music.

That same music, central piece of the film and guiding thread connecting people and places throughout the years, whose rawness and heartfelt truthfulness makes your soul shudder. Passionate about traditional polish folk, the director drew inspiration from real traditional songs and then arranged some of them with composer Marcin Masecki.

The result is an outstanding and beautiful musical experience, from the countryside tunes to the more jazzy versions, making you shiver and shedding some tears as the tragedy unveils itself…

For, in addition to be a social painter, Palawski is also a lover and that’s what he aims to tell us in the first place: a love story throughout a troubled historical period.

But, as every artist knows, whether by experience or by looking at other artists works, what goes on in an artist’s personal life is also linked to, and a reflection of, the times he’s living in.

Palawski embraces this vision, as he shows us Zula and Wiktor going through the years and conflicts of a devastating time while their relationships echoes the twists and violence of the world they live in. It’s impressive to observe the ascension of the communist party and its appropriation of the arts, all dedicated to sing the glories of a totalitarian figure. As the regime takes over any artistry and originality left, Wiktor doesn’t even realize he’s reproducing what he despised in the government he fled several years ago, when taking under his wing his protégée and life-long lover Zula, who he shapes like a blind Pygmalion does with its own creation.

In a particular scene after her EP is released, Zula get pissed off regarding the release of the album in French and in Paris. And that’s a moment where one understands completely her reaction, after we’ve been through the history they lived together- which encapsulates the history of their people and of theircountry. Both of them abandoned first by Wiktor… then Zula… Isn’t there a sense of disguised guilt in Zula’s reaction then?

Yes, she’s being on an unknown territory, at the mercy of a foreign language she doesn’t seem to have any affection for and she realizes she’s being exploited…

But weren’t she in Poland? What’s the difference could we ask?

Well, here, she’s singing a song adapted in French, that same one that she used to sing in her mother tongue. And it’s this precise detail that sticks in her throat, for the betrayal is far too grand… (But not as what it will be later in the film when she’ll end up doing the worst thing ever, singing to a mainstream audience old fashioned dancing songs.)

Difficult then, to not consider their love story condemned by the seal of a “cold war”. Those two genius artists cannot live without the other and while building up the strength in themselves, it’s also what marks their doomed destiny.

It’s impossible not to see some Shakespearean influence looming over the film, whether it be for this image of Zula, furious after an argument with Wiktor, jumping into the river and letting nothing but her head floating above the water. Slowly drifting while humming a melancholic air, the continuous shot focused on her face brings in mind the portrait of Ophelia by Sir John Everett Millais: a dark, somehow colorful and poetic painting, centered on Shakespeare’s character whose fate, we know, was dictated by her only lover Hamlet…

Or the final scene where our two lovers replicate Romeo & Juliette’s last embrace… before taking it “to the other side”…  - which, worth noticing, is one of the most beautiful metaphorical scenes, offering here a double-meaning as the poet Juliette used to do as she explained it to Zula. Here, Zula and Wiktor are sitting on a bench, admiring the sunset. Zula suddenly and spontaneously suggest to go to the other side (meaning, the side of the road facing them) to have a better view.

But the audience also knows that after their death wedding gobbling pills, the other side is this after-life nobody knows about – except for those two lovers, emptying the frame to go and meet their fate, leaving us heart-wrenched after such an experience of lonely torments and eternal love over several decades.

Verdict?

YOU SHOULD GO SEE IT!

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