#its just context i think its necessary for the rest of christmas

[bellysoupset]

"I'm not hungry," Lucas mumbled, as he slid in the backseat of the car that had been sent for them and Bella frowned.

She felt incredibly out of her depth. She could do caretaking, but she had no idea how to do emotional caretaking. Her family's unspoken policy with emotional troubles had always been "nothing a couple beers couldn't fix".

Luke was doing his best to show he was somewhat collected, but at least with her he wasn't bothering pretending and Bell was glad for that, she was happy he trusted her entirely... She just had no idea of how to fix it.

"I didn't ask if you were," she wrinkled her nose, pushing the bagel towards his mouth, "eat up."

Lucas groaned, but took the bagel, starting to tear it apart in his hands and force little, pathetic bites in his mouth. Bella looked up, catching the chauffeur glancing at them, but he quickly averted his gaze.

This was the salt in the wound, the fact that her husband was falling apart and yet here they were, in this farse, playing happy house with Kit Howard. Where there were drivers and Lucas felt the need to flash bright, horrible smiles whenever someone talked directly with him.

She watched from the corner of her eye as Luke gave up halfway through the bagel and instead just curled up against the door, staring at the changing scenario. They were supposed to have gotten there in the morning, but an emergency cuddle session had been needed, so they exchanged the tickets. It was amazing what the black card with A T W O O D stamped on it could get, Bella thought sourly, sliding closer to him.

"Hey, look at me," Bell cupped Luke's cheek and pressed her lips into a thin smile when she noticed his sad stare. He swallowed in, forcing up a tiny smile.

"I'm okay, Bell-"

"Don't," she shook her head, "don't lie to me. To everyone else, but not to me, okay?" she stroked his cheek, "let's make a decent holiday out of this, Luke. I know being here was the last thing we wanted and I know the timing isn't exactly good and that you're not feeling well, but... We can make a good thing out of a bad one, right?"

He nodded slowly, "at least we're not at Vince's," Lucas whispered, bitterly and Bella opened a surprised smile. She giggled, bumping her nose against his.

"Yeah, it would be hella awkward when I clawed his face off mid Christmas dinner."

"You'd never, you fucking love him," Luke rolled his eyes and Bella grinned at the playful tone, however weak it was.

"Oh, trust me, I can love the guy and still claw his fucking face off. Try me," she pressed a kiss over his lips, then pulled back and grabbed the ditched bagel on his lap, "finish it up."

"I'm full..."

"That's all you've had to eat today," Bella glared at him, "you're not full, babe. Now eat."

It was another twenty minutes as they entered his gated community and then Bella felt her stomach drop to her feet. Luke had prepared her for it. He had shown her pictures, a fucking Architecture Digest tour of his house - Kit grinning with those overly white smile of his -, but nothing could've prepared her for the sheer enormity of it all.

"God... This is sick," she whispered, gluing her nose to the car window and watching the mansion grow as it came closer. She tried to imagine Lucas, a little version of him, in that house, but couldn't. In fact, Bell couldn't imagine anyone living there, period.

"Your dad lives here all by himself?" she whispered, half amazed, half horrified and Luke shrugged.

"He's rarely home, he's always touring," he leaned closer, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, "some things don't change."

"So back then... It was just you and your mom...?" which someone made things worse, not better. One adult and a child in that haunted fucking mansion. It was a wonder that Luke was so well adjusted.

"Yeah," he pressed a kiss to her cheek, "and the staff."

"The staff," she wrinkled her nose. She was the staff, Bella knew it quite well. Her mother would be the staff, Bella herself, in another reality, "they don't count?" she raised her eyebrows, voice all bitter and Luke shook his head.

"Of course they do, I used to spend more time with them than with my own mother," he sighed, "dad fired everyone when she passed though, I don't know the new people well enough."

Reason number a hundred why Bella hated Kit Howard, she thought, squeezing Luke's hand as the car finally came to a stop.

She expected Kit to come out to greet them, but instead it was a chubby lady, with a friendly smile on and curly very blonde hair. She was a short little woman, half of Bell's size.

"Oh hi...?"

"Bella, this is Mary Ann," Lucas introduced them, "she runs everyone and everything in this house, dad included. Mary this Bella, my wife."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Atwood."

Bella cringed, "nice to meet you too, but it's just Bella," she shook the woman's hand, then looked around awkwardly.

"Mr. Howard is in the studio," Mary said, to Luke, who let out a little sigh.

"Of course," he wrapped an arm around Bella's shoulders, "c'mon, let me show you around."

She half wished he hadn't shown her around. The house was a fucking mausoleum, as far as Bell was concerned. Unlike the Sicily house, that only had one picture of Veronica, this one was filled with them. Every wall Bella looked at, there was Luke's mom plastered, with a fake smile on.

It was no wonder he didn't visit, she thought, avoiding Veronica's judgy eyes and trying to make any sense of the floorplan. Not even halfway through, though, she gave up. The place was a maze.

"And here's my old room," he finished up the tour, falling backwards on the gigantic bed and Bella stopped at the door, looking around. There was only one picture of his mom, sitting on the fireplace mantle. Veronica, glaring at the camera, one blurry hand out trying to block it.

Bella felt like she could almost hear the woman's exasperated "Lucas!"

Besides that, there were books. So many books, shelves littering the walls. Two posters with football players she didn't recognize, a deep blue wall behind his bed, an abandoned PS4 console under the flat screen TV, one framed shirt that was signed.

"So?"

"Not messy enough to be yours," she said, then crossed the room to stand in front of him, "I'm surprised that I like it."

Luke wrapped his arms around her, leaning to rest his cheek on her chest, looking around, "it's not bad."

"Yeah, I was imagining something more... Kardashian," she teased him and could feel him grimace and scoff against her.

"Don't say that around dad unless you want a whole rant," he whispered, "c'mon, let's go say hi."

"...Your dad isn't home," she pulled back, "he's in the studio, you heard Mary."

"That's the basement level," Lucas stood up, running a hand through his hair and forcing a smile, "let me show you."

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

"Has Luke shown you the tapes yet?" Kit asked, lazily sprawled on his big chair, while Lucas sat in front of him and Bella dug through a box filled with old vinyl's.

She hated that they had so many good ones.

"The tapes?" She said, at the same time Luke whined:

"Dad, noooo-"

"Oh yeah, the tapes," Kit sounded so smug, getting up and opening a big black cabinet across the studio. Bella turned her body so she could get a better view and noticed there were multiple black folders, with white labels, stacked side by side. At least twenty filling up the whole cabinet.

Kit grabbed the 5th one, unzipped it and then flipped through the pages where white CDs with black markings were slotted in. Bella raised her eyebrows, shocked by the sheer amount of music.

"Here," the older man slid a CD out, then fed it to his sound system, folding his hands behind his back, while Luke let out a groan.

The song was mellow, with just an acoustic guitar and a drummer far in the background. Bella frowned, looking at Lucas all puzzled, only to widen her eyes as the first lyrics started and a very familiar voice sung it.

Luke, except his voice wasn't as deep, much breathier.

"Is that you!?"

"He recorded it all on his own," Kit sounded so proud, "his mother wouldn't let me include it in the album, though, and Lucas refuses to let me release it now."

"It's embarrassing," Luke's face was all red, "I was thirteen."

"Can I get a copy of that?" Bella asked, smiling so much her cheeks hurt, "has Jonah heard it before?"

"NO," Lucas glared at her, and she wasn't sure which question he was answering, probably both.

"I'll get a copy done for you, Bella," Kit smiled at her and Bella felt her disdain for the man fade just a little bit. Not much, just a tad.

#okay this is NOT a sickfic #its just context i think its necessary for the rest of christmas #and i dont wanna waste time in an actual sickfic writing it #no ending just Thoughts #lucas atwood #isabella martinez #mywriting

[apparitionism]

Bonus 2

Here’s the second part of a holiday story, begun in part 1, about how Myka and Helena, in a vaguely season 4 world in which nobody’s going to go to Boone but through which they have thus far been separated, are reunited for a day-before-Christmas-eve retrieval in Cleveland. Helena has been summoned by Claudia to serve as Myka’s backup, for Pete is spending some holiday time with his family... but as it turns out, the retrieval is necessary because—plot-semi-twist!—Pete Christmas-gifted his cousin, who is a bigwig at an accounting firm, with an artifact, a pen that apparently has something to do with Santa’s naughty/nice list. Which said cousin used to confer end-of-year bonuses—and penalties. As this part opens, Myka is just beginning to process the fact that the whole situation is Pete’s fault...

(And no, I didn’t manage to bring this thing in for a landing in this part. Nobody faint from the surprise.)

Bonus 2

“Okay,” Myka acknowledges, because what else can she do? The fact is that in any Warehouse-related context, “coincidence” is a non sequitur, and she begins formulating a plan to Christmas-gift Claudia with a T-shirt featuring that sentiment. How fast can she get a custom T-shirt made?

The irony is that Claudia would know.

“Yeah,” says Pete’s cousin—Pete’s cousin! She might be affirming the Claudia-irony in Myka’s head, or the situational irony Myka is now stuck in, or any of the vast array of ironies that make up the Warehousian unfolding of time itself. Myka would not have expected Pete’s cousin’s words to contain multitudes. And yet.

“He told me it was the kind of thing he thought I’d like,” that cousin continues, “and he was right. Effects aside, it’s a gorgeous implement. Perfectly balanced... which I guess works on an existential level too, doesn’t it? Naughty, nice.” She shifts the pen to rest a delicate crosswise on an extended index finger, testing its equilibrium as a chef might a knife.

The pen—or is it merely a different species of knife?—basks in Nancy Sullivan’s regard. “Resonant little instrument,” she says, with clear affection. “Anyway, we were talking about Pete.” A different sort of affection now colors her voice. “He went into this big production-number apology about it being sort of secondhand.”

“Oh?” Myka says, distracted by pens, knives, resonances... but, right, secondhand. Of course it’s secondhand. No new item could be an artifact. Or could it? This seems like a Steve-conversation topic.... and it certainly beats “H.G. is god knows where” for philosophy.

“Not because it’s not new,” Pete’s cousin says, apparently reading Myka’s mind, “but because he initially was thinking he’d give it to somebody else.”

Myka repeats her interrogative “oh?”, but she’s getting a feeling again.

“Yeah,” says Nancy Sullivan, and Myka really has to applaud her talent for broadly applicable affirmation. “He said he wanted to give it to his partner because, and I quote, ‘she likes the old-fashioned stuff,’ but then he realized he shouldn’t because, and I also quote, ‘she’s got this whole family feathery-pen dealy-thingy and I don’t want to upset her.’” She waves the pen again, this time directly at Myka, like a conductor imploring the oboes to pick up the pace. “And he told me his partner’s name,” she concludes.

“I’m sure there are lots of Myka Berings in the world?” Myka tries, weakly, raising her hands as if to offer Nancy Sullivan all those other Myka Berings. The last vestige of defensibility... then her hands drop, because really. She looks at Helena in apology, with only an indistinct, tangled sense of what she’s apologizing for. I’m sorry I occasioned this is part of it, yet there’s a deeper fault she feels but can’t quite ideate, one more consequential than an anodyne “oops.”

“Listen, he’s a really good guy,” Nancy Sullivan says.

“I agree completely,” Myka assures her. But in the interest of full disclosure, she adds, “Mostly completely. I mean, I’m going to kill him for this.”

Helena says, “Are you.” Her tone brings Myka up short: it’s impossibly knowing, suggesting insight into everything Myka has been thinking, about someday and talking and things.

Again with the reading so right.

Myka would love to have the panache to do more than glance furtively at Helena, to pull off a playful, similarly knowing response, like “that depends on my backup” (or something actually clever that will doubtless occur to her during some post-holiday post-mortem). Instead she goes with a not at all interrogative “Oh.”

Nancy Sullivan looks from Myka to Helena. Then she says, “Okay, revision: A really good guy who might be hanging onto some unreasonable hope.”

Myka wishes she could keep from glancing yet again, now, at Helena—now as she grasps the fullness of her underlying error, now as she formulates a hopeful plan regarding someday saying out loud “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize that he had any such hope and that I didn’t make completely clear that any such hope would never have been anything but unreasonable”—but the wish doesn’t work. She glances... thus proving Nancy Sullivan’s point.

“He didn’t mention you,” Pete’s cousin tells Helena. “I think I see why.”

“I’m both offended and pleased,” Helena says, with her customary little thank-you head-bow.

Rather than luxuriating in the familiarity of that head-bow, Myka tries to head off a more detailed discussion of Helena’s role in it all (and what a nondescriptively limp phrase that is) by observing, “The sixth-sense thing is quite the family trait.”

“Ah. Sure. You’ve had experience,” Nancy Sullivan says, a little droop in her voice.

Has she taken Myka’s words as criticism? Myka hurries to reassure, “Sometimes it’s very helpful.”

“But. Other times.” This is heavier, and now she must be referencing her own vibe-related experiences.

“Your family get-togethers must be really... charged?” Myka tries.

Nancy Sullivan offers another all-encompassing “Yeah.” Then she laughs. “But at least we don’t have a feathery-pen dealy-thingy like your family does.”

Helena clears her throat, an attention-garnering ah-ha-hem, as if it’s in the stage directions preceding her next line in some farce. She inclines her head: more stage-direction drama. Finally, “You do now,” she says in benediction.

Nancy Sullivan’s jaw drops. “Wow,” she says, and “wow,” she repeats. Then she laughs again and says, “He really should’ve mentioned you.”

Myka might laugh too, but she is preoccupied by the way in which Helena’s well-chosen articulation has persuaded her body to remind her that it and she have reached no mutually satisfactory agreement about appropriate reactions.

And that in turn sparks Myka to a realization: once the retrieval is accomplished, there may be a nonzero chance that she and Helena could enjoy a bit more of that liminal together-presence...

Myka’s body makes its best effort to crash through the gauzy ideating her brain would prefer to do about what such time could entail, and after no small amount of nethers-vs.-cerebrum struggle, she manages to propose, truce-wise, a simple Let’s just hope it exists.

Surprisingly, body and mind are willing to shake on that, giving Myka leave to slip on a glove and pronounce, “Just give us the pen. Then it’s over. Mostly. The money will probably revert... so you’ll most likely have to redo the bonuses the old-fashioned way.” Hearing herself, she amends, “Well. The regular way.”

“I don’t mind redoing. But reverting...” Pete’s cousin tightens her fingers around the artifact, pulling it near to her body as if she might be considering, for one last “maybe,” the idea of punching her way out.

Myka tenses, and she doesn’t need to cast a glance to know that Helena is doing the same.

She glances anyway... and indeed, Helena alive with wiry readiness is a sight worth the seeing. So worth it, in fact, that Myka is genuinely, if improperly, disappointed that said sight doesn’t cause the truce to collapse.

After a moment, however, color returns to Nancy Sullivan’s knuckles, and Myka removes the pen from her slackened grip.

But then Nancy Sullivan cocks her head. “Is it really over though? I feel like something else might be happening.”

No. No. Absolutely not. “Something else is always happening,” Myka says, affecting nonchalance as she slides the feathery foolishness into a static bag, ignoring its yipping sparks of protest. “Don’t worry about it.”

Nancy Sullivan casts a skeptical look at the barky little bag. “If you say so. Anyway seeing Pete’s face when I tell him you and I –and he and I!—are fellows in family feathery-pen dealy-thingies now? Might end up being the second-best end-of-year bonus of all, given everything.” There’s a little mockery in her voice, echoing the cousin Myka knows so well.

“And the best such bonus?” Helena inquires.

“Docking Bob’s pay,” Nancy Sullivan says instantly.

Myka snorts, and Nancy Sullivan turns back to her and says, “Are you okay with me being glad we met?” Like she’s mostly but not entirely sure of the response she’ll get, and that’s another echo.

“Only if you’re okay with me being glad too,” Myka says, her own voice sounding a familiar note—one she’s pretty sure Pete would recognize.

After a nod, Nancy Sullivan turns to Helena. “I’d say it to you, but I feel like there’s something extra going on with you, like—”

Myka steps in: “Honestly, always,” and then she’s hustling Helena out of the office even as Helena chirps, “I’m both offended and pleased by that as well!”

Back in the elevator, Helena speaks first. “I did not expect that,” she says, sounding entertained by—practically bubbly about—the entire scenario.

“I should have,” Myka grumbles.

“You’re too hard on yourself.”

“Oh god no,” Myka says, involuntarily. “Too easy if anything.”

Helena’s eyebrows rise, and her eyes accuse. “I’ve known you for no small amount of time,” she says.

Myka’s previous review fights that statement, but she doesn’t speak of it.

Her lack of response prompts a heavy I-am-no-longer-entertained sigh. “Must I return to the phrase ‘your truth’?”

“Please don’t,” Myka says. That’s also nearly involuntary, but it sounds too harsh, like she’s dismissing as unimportant that bookstore interaction, as well as the entirety of those in-extremis manifestations of herself and Helena. Rather than apologizing for that, for surely it would prove far too entangling, she tries to draw Helena’s attention back to the entertainment. “I like Nancy Sullivan. She reminds me of Pete and his mom.”

“Pete’s mother? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

That’s a bit more jousty, backed by curiosity. Good. “She’s a Regent,” Myka says, for it’s the most salient piece of information she has about Jane Lattimer.

Helena stills. Her jaw hardens. “Then perhaps I have indeed had the... pleasure.” Cold. Cold. Cold.

You idiot, Myka scourges herself. Why couldn’t she have done the normal thing and left Pete’s mom as “Pete’s mom”? But now, but now: now she’s seen this wound, down there under the ice, and she wants to test that ice, but she can’t, regardless of her wish and want to know know know, to know everything Helena has been put through, so as to know whom to hate (and she hopes that doesn’t include Pete’s mom) and whom to someday thank (and she double-hopes that does include Pete’s mom). “Anyway I think the cousin had the right idea,” she says, pushing back to the now, to what just happened. “Using an artifact to do what are really decent things, even if they were judgmental.”

“Rather Old Testament,” Helena says. “Strangely inappropriate for this holiday, no?” She asks that like she’s really thinking—wondering—about it.

Myka congratulates herself on having provided a distraction, however minimal, from whatever Regent-pain her unthinking reveal caused to surface. “I hadn’t thought about Santa being more Yahweh than Jesus,” she says, to enhance it, “and I’m not sure what it says about my position on salvation that I genuinely wish we could have let her keep that pen. Or even better, if we could maybe ferry it around to deserving arbiters... wouldn’t that contribute to the greater good, even if it’s in a judgy Old-Testament way?”

Helena’s face moves as if she’s about to answer, but before she can, a rupturing screech of metal-on-metal complication resounds decisively through the space, and their ear-popping descent slows, slows, slows...

...and stops.

After an appropriately irony-bearing pause, Helena says, “This elevator seems to disapprove of your suggestion. Or perhaps it’s your theological indecision that displeases?”

All Myka can manage is an extremely resigned “I am not surprised.”

Efforts to summon help strengthen the “disapproval” interpretation: they’re fruitless. No one answers the emergency line, and this mirrored box is, according to both their phones, the place where cell service goes to die. Or where that service is interfered with by a theologically offended pulley-based mechanism.

“I genuinely cannot believe we’re stuck in an elevator,” Myka says. It may be the most true statement to which she’s ever given voice.

After a beat, however, she concedes, “But of course I can.”

Helena casts her gaze around. Once again, exaggeratedly stage-direction-y. “At least it’s reasonably well-appointed. For an elevator in which to be... stuck.” She seems to relish articulating “stuck,” so she’s back to being entertained. Not quite bubbly, but definitely entertained.

Myka can’t get past her annoyance with the elevator’s disapproval, so she says a peevish, “I don’t like mirrors.” She’s painfully aware now that they cover not only the walls, but also the ceiling. She can’t even look heavenward in supplication, sarcastic or otherwise, without regarding herself. It really is too much.

Given that no other communication technology is working, she resorts to the Farnsworth. She gives thanks for Warehouse mojo, or whatever enables it to elude the elevator’s wrath, when Claudia answers with, “No info on ‘lists, making them’ yet.”

“We dealt with that,” Myka tells her. “New problem.”

“Another artifact?”

“Who knows? Maybe Pete’s in an elevator somewhere else in this town making bad decisions, and they’re redounding to our detriment.” She’s vamping. Stuck in an elevator with Helena, she’s vamping. Instead of simply basking in such fantasy-made-fact, she’s vamping.

She doesn’t bother wondering whether Helena knows she’s doing that; if this little adventure has done nothing else, it’s reminded Myka that Helena always knows. It’s both wonderful and terrible to be so legible, particularly to someone Myka so often finds frustratingly illegible.

“I’m not following,” Claudia says.

Speaking of illegible: Myka, heal thyself. “We’re stuck. In an elevator,” she clarifies.

Claudia makes a noise that, impressively, marries a gasp and a snicker. “Are you really? Or did you push the stop button, like people do?”

“Like people... what?”

“When they want to have a little uninterrupted chat,” Claudia says, pedantic, as if now she’s the one who’s “clarifying.”

“Nobody does that in real life,” Steve says from offscreen. Myka is pleased to know he’s around.

“Myka just did,” Claudia insists in his direction. “Didn’t you,” she insists at Myka.

“If I did,” Myka says, “why would I be calling you to get us out of here?”

“Yeah, why would she?” Steve asks, but from farther away.

Don’t leave! Myka wants to exhort. She would never admit to needing backup in a counter-Claudia sense... but she does appreciate when Steve provides it.

“Oooh, because maybe the chat didn’t go so well,” Claudia says with great, and to Myka’s thinking entirely inappropriate, relish.

Trying for calm pragmatism, she says, “Wouldn’t I just... unpush the stop button then?”

“Myka,” Claudia says. It’s the most chiding, disappointment-laden use of her name Myka has ever heard, even when measured against all the times her father has uttered those two designating syllables. “Believe me when I tell you I’m a fan,” Claudia goes on, turning mollifying, “but you really need to lean in when it comes to tropes.” Myka can’t imagine how to respond to that, so she doesn’t. Claudia sighs—seemingly everyone’s preferred go-to when Myka fails to produce words—and says, “Did you try calling maintenance? Pushing the emergency button? Using your cell?”

“Yes, yes, and no service. Do you genuinely think I don’t understand modern communication technology?”

“I think you pretend you don’t understand newfangledness all the time. Particularly when you’re trying to show off how sympatico you are with H.G., who incidentally doesn’t seem to be piping up like I’d expect. Did you knock her unconscious after your terrible chat? Or maybe during it?”

Helena has indeed been very—very surprisingly—quiet while Myka has explained the situation to Claudia. And she doesn’t step in to help Myka out now. So much for any counter-Claudia backup.

“There was not a chat,” Myka says.

Helena is regarding herself in the mirrored ceiling.

“But there could be one now?” Claudia nudges. “Let me see if I can see what’s up. I’ve got cell service.” She disconnects.

Helena abruptly abandons her ceiling self-contemplation, focusing her gaze upon Myka. It’s disconcerting. “Are you attempting to avoid an uninterrupted chat?” she asks.

Myka can’t suss the question’s sincerity. And notwithstanding all her ideas about talking, she suffers a cringing internal “yes.” Externally, however, she says, in what she hopes offers at least a veneer of sincerity of her own, “No.”

She doesn’t follow up by asking “why would I be doing that,” because Helena would probably have a guess. And because that guess would probably be accurate: “You are a coward,” Helena might say, and Myka would regrettably have to either tell the truth and agree, or lie and disclaim any emotional investment in whatever the outcome of such a chat might be.

Silence. Longer than it should be... or is it as long as Myka deserves?

You wanted time together. Don’t bellyache about the form it takes.

“Your objection to mirrors,” Helena eventually says.

“What about it?” Myka asks. Her very soul flinches.

“What is it?”

Myka has never before stated her dislike of mirrors aloud, and she regrets having done so now. To play it off, she says a dismissive, “An artifact.” And yet the truth is that despite the unnerving nature of her interaction with Alice’s mirror and how it continues to prey on her mind, it isn’t really that—or rather, that only intensified her dislike.

But when Helena proposes, “Yet another ‘dealy-thingy’?”, clearly (and preciously) trying the phrase out in her mouth, Myka misleadingly (intentionally misleadingly) nods and says, “They’re all dealy-thingies.”

To that, Helena says, “Interesting.”

Myka would probe that word, but to do so might destabilize the ground, here in an elevator. Instead, for the moment, she tilts her head in the direction of the Christmas muzak, the literal elevator music, being piped in. “Oh, sure, that still works.” She gestures at the speaker, a thin dark stripe between two mirror-panels, from which the sound is emerging. The elevator is nothing if not insistent.

In truth, she doesn’t mind Christmas carols. She does mind the bowdlerization thereof, and isn’t that an attitude the dogmatic elevator really ought to share? O holy night, the stars are brightly... synthesizing? It’s wrong.

Now even her mind is vamping. Great.

Helena tilts her head toward the speaker, however, and Myka appreciates her willingness to be redirected. At least for a moment.

In fact, for all her vamping, mental and otherwise, Myka finds herself absurdly content to simply stand against a mirrored elevator wall and regard Helena... who in that instant of Myka’s acknowledged contentment seems to accept their predicament as unlikely to be resolved in a timely fashion: she sits down, of course elegantly, resting her back against her side of the box and stretching her legs (her legs, Myka’s body notes, just to let her know it’s still paying close attention) out in front of her.

The looking-down perspective is a bit disorienting—although at least this time it has nothing to do with being stuck to a ceiling—but Myka has no time to process it, for Helena’s next salvo, looking up, is, “You’ve been expecting me to remark further on naughtiness, haven’t you.”

Reading, yet again. “I kind of have,” Myka admits. It seems an overly judgmental statement, particularly given that Myka has to deliver it as if from an elevated bench. And yet... she kind of has.

“I’d rather not fulfill that expectation,” Helena says. “If we could speak of other things.”

Myka is a little thrown, but thankful. “That is entirely fine by me. What do you want to talk about?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly,” Myka says, meaning it as an answer to either interpretation of Helena’s interrogative: Are you asking what I want to talk honestly about? or Are you asking, with honest intent, what I want to talk about? She hopes Helena will respond similarly.

“Something that interests you,” Helena says.

That’s not in any way what she was expecting. “Really?”

“Really.”

It’s a word similar to, yet very different from, “honestly.” What, in a real sense, interests Myka? In this moment, all she can think to say is “you.” And perhaps because her normal inhibitions are disordered, here in this stopped elevator, that’s what she blurts out.

And that seems, incongruously, to take Helena aback. “What about me?” she asks.

Myka can’t say “everything.” It’s the real answer (really), but it’s far too... big. For an unexpected reunion, an unexpected uninterrupted chat—although Claudia or rescuers could at any point interrupt it, which Myka should hope happens (should)—it’s far too big.

So: smaller. What occurs first to Myka is “where have you been”—but that would most likely seem accusatory. She needs something else. Something something something...

In the aftermath of the Warehouse not being destroyed, she’d felt herself full of hard-earned wisdom and bravery: enough, surely, to stop hesitating. Enough, surely, to act. Or enough, at the very least, to articulate.

“Wisdom” and “bravery” now seem nothing more than labels on empty containers, and so “faintheartedness” is the fullness with which Myka here initially accuses her today self. But as Helena breathes and waits for an answer, Myka revises that, gentling it to “caution.” And she adds “care.” Because she is trying to attend to, to appreciate, that breathing. And that waiting.

These might be nothing more than self-indulgently comforting shifts in vocabulary... but then again they might be akin to the shift from “Christmas” to “end-of-year.” Gentle. Inclusionary.

The something something something that occurs to her—because in attempting to avoid her own reflection, she is confronted instead with multiple Helenas—concerns a topic she probably should censor but doesn’t: “When you were a hologram... or a projection, or whatever we should call it... did you have a reflection?” She then reflexively backtracks, “It shouldn’t matter? But I don’t know.” That last, she means both ways. She doesn’t know: whether the reflection existed, or whether it matters. But maybe it’s a sneak-up on things, because she shouldn’t ignore things, and because a seemingly inconsequential tangent might tiptoe toward importance.

“I don’t know either,” Helena says. “I suppose I would have?” Her face contracts. “Or perhaps not, as I don’t know how that holographic projection of myself was... projected. But I do intend to look into it.” She says this last as if Myka has caught her in some inattention, a recklessly uncompleted assignment.

“I never even started majoring in physics,” Myka laments, which is true but also, she hopes, reassuring in an I didn’t do the homework either sense, “so I don’t know the optics of it. Projections. Light and mirrors. “ She doesn’t mention that in the wake of Pittsburgh, she had indeed tried researching such things... she’d got as far as some advanced volumetric displays, ones using dust particles as screens onto which lasers projected light, but at a certain point, a tipping point, the idea of Helena existing as—being relegated to—nothing more than light and dust screamed a surpassing insult, a degradation conjuring death, and it was more than she could bear.

For now she puts that away. She shakes her head, shakes it free, and changes tack. “Anyway, that’s probably the wrong approach. This is Warehousey, so thinking outside physics, the laws... okay, all I know about reflections, unphysically, is that vampires don’t have them. So if you didn’t have one, then maybe all holograms are vampires?” Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh. She would have done better to speak of dust, that and light and despair. Going with vampires instead? Talk about vamping...

“Presumably not vice versa,” Helena observes, seemingly taking Myka’s words far too seriously. “Certainly fictionally. Also not overly flattering, in the syllogistic sense of ‘Helena was a hologram, therefore.’”

“They’re very popular though,” Myka temporizes.

“Stoker’s novel was all the rage,” Helena allows.

The chat stalls out. Interrupting itself?

Myka nevertheless feels pressure to fill the silence: it’s her fault. Will a simple truth suffice? “I didn’t expect to be spending the day before Christmas eve with you,” she says. “Or any day with you. In Cleveland.”

A small smile from Helena marks this as a more welcome fill than a question about reflection. As do her next words: “Nor I with you. In Cleveland, or any place. Equally, I didn’t expect to be sent on a mission with you.”

“That part of it went well.” Myka gestures at her bag that contains the artifact.

“We did—and now do once again—make a good team.”

“I’m glad we got the chance to do it again. Glad, but also... relieved.”

“Relieved,” Helena echoes.

That wasn’t a question, but Myka answers anyway, “Well, obviously, first,” she says, feeling herself launching into an explanatory babble that she fears she’ll be powerless to stop, “because you didn’t have to talk anybody out of using Joshua’s Trumpet, so that really makes a difference in terms of how we—”

“‘First’,” Helena quotes, interrupting (stopping), conveying her full knowledge that that too is a vamp. “And second?”

“That we still are.” This, Myka says simple and frank.

“A good team?”

That is a question. Myka knows “yes” is the only sensical answer, so she tries to say it. But the depth and weight of the ways in which she and Helena “still are” choke her: they “still are” in the basic sense of existing, which was never a certainty; and even better, higher, these hours they’ve spent together today have made clear, to Myka at least, that they “still are”... well. She’d like to finish that with something like “in love,” but instead she tries to leave it, even in her head, at “still are,” with their time-crossed, maybe-destined predicate undefined.

“A good team” should be good enough—true enough—for now.

So after a stretch of time during which Myka knows she’s been focusing her gaze far too intently on Helena, she manages that “yes.”

Helena waits to speak.... are her eyes glistening more brightly than usual, or is Myka hallucinating? “I’m relieved as well,” she says, and Myka chooses to simply delight in whatever prompted such a saturated sparkle.

It draws her closer.

She crosses the small-yet-large elevator-width that separates them. “I need to either sit down beside you or help you up,” she says. “Do you have a preference?”

“For?” Helena’s eyes continue to glow.

That shine... Myka has hopes. They may not be realized, but she has them, the product of relief, “still are,” and an unknown predicate. “Whatever’s next,” she says.

A bit of time passes, with Helena now being the one focused most intently. “I’ll stand,” is her verdict.

Myka reaches down with both—both—hands, offering, and Helena reaches up, accepting. Their fingers meet and clasp, and too cold, Myka thinks, for both of them have a chill in those extremities... but first impressions of temperature promptly fall away as the new reality of the clasp roars into precedence.

Myka has never been so certain of, so certain of and enchanted by, what must and will happen next in her life. Never in her life so certain, as the clasp tightens, as their torsos lean, as Myka’s body begins an at-last congratulation, one that will become a celebration—

A voice from somewhere overhead barks, “Everybody okay in there?”

TBC

#bering and wells #Warehouse 13 #fanfic #holiday (but not Gift Exchange) #Bonus #part 2 #you never can tell what mechanisms might be up to #sneaky ghosts in machines #(sneaky ghosts ARE machines) #anyway like I said in part 1 #I wanted to put a couple of people in a clichéd situation #and the way this part ends was probably obvious from the get-go #but really #was that space the right venue for... #anything? #Claudia's encouragement aside

[silyabeeodess]

So... Last night, I read the Balan Wonderworld novel.  It’s... something.  It's not bad--I did enjoy it and it does have its moments--but there’s bits that don’t really seem to work as well as they could’ve and they can add up.  To avoid major spoilers, like last time, I’ll put my thoughts below the cut, so be warned:

Most of my concerns are issues with the individual characters, but I’ll start by talking about the book itself first.  Because there are so many people and themes in it to discuss, with the plot covering every stage and each of the residents’ backstories, you have to move through events quickly: We don’t really spend enough time with any of the characters to know them beyond some basic traits and what they need.  Fine for a game and with visuals, sure, but not so much for a story.  Things can feel like they’re moving a bit too fast, which I can excuse because of the large cast number; however, the writing only amplifies the problem and makes it feel like the book is being padded with wasted, repetitive dialogue that takes away from the story. I want you to imagine taking the 12 Days of Christmas and turning it into a novel--not with the things divided up into each individual day, but each chapter repeating all of the other days that came before it.  It’s stale, it’s droning, and you as a reader will just end up skipping through material after a while.  The book does this through the visions the characters share of Balan and Fighter/Emma, with Streetbeat/Leo and the residents each having them with slight differences in-between.  As you meet each individual resident, one by one, they repeat a lot of the same things over and over.  Not only that, but then you have to loop back through them and their stages a second time as Leo saves everyone.  It’s not quite as bad as my 12 Days of Christmas example, but it does get to the point where you’re ready to say, “I get it! Your lover gave you calling birds, hens, doves, and a partridge--please, just move on already!” There are such easy fixes to this issue too, like having characters already meeting in each other’s stages to cover them together, maybe summarizing the differences in their stages to set up Leo’s expectations before he sees how distorted they become later on since he’s going to have to visit each one anyway.  Instead, time is wasted that could’ve been spent on descriptions or building the characters in other ways.      

I think the one character that suffers the most because of this Fighter/Emma.  Because she’s placed in the story with the same mystery as Balan and viewed as a villain by the rest of the cast up until the end, she’s constantly being sidelined even though she’s a main character.  She’s used more-so as a plot device for Leo, running off to do her own thing when she’s no longer needed, and then gets no conclusion where all of the other characters do.  It’s like that meme where a person asks, “What about Emma?” and everyone just repeats the question dismissively as an answer. Again, I get it, we’re following Leo’s story here just as we would only be following one of them in the game, but it’s bad to keep dismissing her all while using her as a necessary key to saving everyone else.  I guess it’s implied at the end that the Wonderworld gang might seek her out too, as they did with each other, but she’s barely a footnote.  Balan and Lance suffer a little bit too, but do make enough satisfying reappearances that it’s not as much of an issue.  

I kind of want to avoid talking about the writing style further, as I can’t help but wonder how much might be more of something like a translation issue; however, I will say that if you plan on reading this with a young reader, be ready to explain some extensive vocabulary to them.  The style itself isn’t very flowery, the book isn’t a heavy text, but there are some words they won’t understand that can’t be deciphered by using the surrounding text.  Like I said, the book doesn’t have a strong focus on description: Moreover though, there’s not as many illustrations paced through the book as you would imagine based on the preview.  You end have having to rely on what you already know going off those first images at the start of the book introducing the characters or if you’ve played the game. It’s not a big thing, but I can see it being a small problem if you chose to read the novel alone.  I tend to lean toward styles with heavier description in both my reading and writing though, so that might be a bit of my personal bias as well.  Some of you may prefer it as it is.

Now getting on to the individual characters... Oh boy, is there some stuff to go through.  Let me start with the one I’m actually a little uncomfortable with, as her actions affect some of the other characters as well in major ways: The Clocktower Kid/Cass Milligan.  Throughout the story, we’re given clues that she has a big crush on Pensive Perriot/Attilio Caccini--who, as most of you likely already know--is in love with a woman who works with him at his theme park as a princess.  By the end of the book, it’s revealed that there’s a near decade-long gap between when the two stepped into Wonderworld and that Cass is the princess...  Thankfully, Attilio showed no interest in Cass as her child-self and this means that they’re actually close to the same age, but let’s unpack the assortment of other problems this brings up.  1.)  This goes beyond a childhood crush with someone older that most people get over: The girl devoted a decade of her life to getting the princess role so she could be with the guy.  If it was a year or two between teenagers, that would be one thing: This borderlines obsession.  2.) She knows who Attilio is from the beginning and waits for him to confess his love to her before revealing her identity.  She says it’s because she didn’t want to risk messing up the timeline, but her own actions could’ve done exactly that had the princess role been meant for literally any other girl on the entire planet.  She didn’t know that she was meant to be the princess: All she knew was that she wanted to be with Attilio.  3.)  Either Attilio just kind of accepts all of this or, again, the pacing won’t give us some much-needed details, because the next thing we know we’re getting to their engagement and honeymoon months later.  Keep in mind: While she waits a decade for him, his confession takes place barely a few hours after he leaves Wonderworld.  I think the guy would need at least a little time to process everything.  4.)  While the book seems to stay close to the game’s canon from what I’ve seen, this particular relationship is handled even weirder in its cutscenes.  For one thing, it’s not revealed that Cass is the princess.  For another, despite this, we see her with Attilio anyway as her young, childhood self--granted, without any big hints to a romance between them. I’ll let you dissect what you will from that.

Let me get to The Checkered King/Cal Suresh next.  In the novel, a couple of the characters had their backstories tweaked.  These changes don’t interfere with what we see from the game’s cutscenes, but they do add more context to them that changes what particular issues the characters are suffering through.  In Cal’s case, his obsession with his champion title in chess led him to ignore his dying wife, adding an extreme sense of guilt and longing that wasn’t there when we believed this was just a matter of his pride and sense of identity alone.  Enter Cass, who reappears in her timeline before this death takes place, finds out who Cal is... and apparently does nothing to warn him. We can use her timeline excuse, but this is someone’s dying wife we’re talking about--she even sees him grieving over her in an illusion as they’re all leaving Wonderworld.  Even if no one could do anything for Mrs. Suresh, even if Cal didn’t listen to Cass and dismissed everything she had to say about wasting precious hours better spent with the people you love, I think an attempt at talking to him would at least be necessary.  No though, the book just ignores that while the two of them and Attilio eat snacks together.            

Cal isn’t the only one who had the added trauma of death: They did it to The Watcher/Sana Hudson too.  In her case, she was trying to protect some endangered birds that were killed--both directly and indirectly--by the construction workers in her area, leading her to despise humanity for its “greed and selfishness.”  Now, her situation/feelings is/are perfectly understandable, especially given how the construction workers in the story are portrayed.  What doesn’t really work is the context surrounding the issue and her actions involving the event. Now, I admit this first point is a bit weak as I can’t speak for the regulations across every country and we don’t know exactly where Sana is from, but a lot of places have heavy regulations and work with big organizations to protect endangered species.  Not to mention this is a bit of a heavy topic with much-needed context for a book like this to properly cover.  This fact isn’t even glossed over though and the workers have no problem cutting down the birds’ tree despite how this would likely cause massive legal trouble for them and be a major deterrent as a result.  As to the “greed and selfishness of man,” this doesn’t really work well considering that the workers are trying to build a residential area.  A cost to the environment?  Yes.  However, it was likely ordered for the benefit of the community.  We see this debated a little more evenly in the conclusion to Sana’s story; however, we’re also pretty much told “Yeah, humans are terrible and can never change. Pick birds over them,” beforehand.  Lastly, Sana’s own actions--or rather, lackthereof.  When the birds lose their tree, their eggs are destroyed and the parents stay behind out of their love for their deceased offspring rather than leave for winter later on, resulting in their deaths.  To try to prevent this, Sana begs the birds to leave... Let me repeat that: She begs the birds to leave.  The problem?  They’re birds.  They’re animals.  And, outside of the theatre, this is supposedly a world just like ours.  You can’t reason with a bird like a person.  She could’ve just as easily tried to capture the birds and brought them somewhere safer herself or called someone who would.  If that didn’t work, at least those actions would make a lot more sense for the hatred she feels towards other humans: Instead, this decision makes their deaths kinda her fault too for leaving them there despite knowing what would happen is she did. 

I don’t know how I feel about the added issues involving death.  Yes, there’s a lot surrounding that theme alone to cover, but part of Balan Wonderworld’s charm is confronting all these people with extremely diverse problems, some stemming from issues beyond their control and some their own, internal struggles. The inclusion of death might have made the consequences of events more traumatic, but I think to a detriment.  It doesn’t affect Sana as much, but Cal’s case is the worst, as his wife’s passing echoes the regret and mourning we already get from The Lady/Iben Bia’s story when it could’ve been it’s own, independent thing focusing on pride, identity, and a sense of fulfillment that we see more in his game counterpart.  I can’t help but feel that we miss out on a wider range of messages by emphasizing on the aspect of death so much.         

Lastly, let’s get to Balan and Lance.  Overall, I greatly enjoyed the twist at the end with the connection between their characters.  The problems I have with them, honestly, I debate whether or not are even problems at all as they do address real concerns that perfectly fit what individuals in their circumstances would go through.  First Lance, then Balan, they’ve spent a millennia helping others repair the imbalance in their hearts.  People come, people go, and they’re left behind, forever alone in that that theatre.  It would be crushing.  Lance already broke under the weight of that pain, which is why Balan exists--and now he’s likely doomed to continue the cycle as he suffers this same degree of loneliness.  My main issue is that there’s so much to cover about this that we’re barely given a teaspoon of.  The author couldn’t really give us much, as this book’s main focus was on Wonderworld’s inhabitants.  It feels though that there’s something being built-up that we might not ever get to see completed depending on how successful the franchise it, which is sad if that’s the case.  (Hey though: That’s where we fans usually step in, right?)          

Secondary to that is that there’s a level of hypocrisy to Balan, Lance, and how they engage with the inhabitants.  I kind of love it, but this is where I’m a little conflicted since Balan is supposed to be the one helping people fix their hearts.  Two general themes that carry over greatly among all of the inhabitants is the importance of love and friendship, how we rely on others to grow and save us from the worst of ourselves.  Balan, however, is required to stay detached from others no matter how much it hurts or what it will inevitably lead to, as everyone must leave Wonderworld eventually.  It’s a conflict of interest.  Ironically enough, it’s Lance’s decision to trap Leo in a stage and his overwhelming longing for true connections that allow the inhabitants to find and help each other.  It’s bad that Balan and Lance couldn’t take the lessons they gave others and apply it to themselves, because their situation is so extreme. 

Furthermore, there’s a hypocrisy between Balan and Lance in their decision to wipe the inhabitants memories.  It’s revealed not to be a magical phenomena caused by the theatre itself once people leave it as many of us thought, but rather a conscious choice Balan makes--just like Lance.  However, while Lance does it to keep the inhabitants contently trapped inside their hearts, we’re not really given a reason for Balan’s actions. Memories, good and bad, are a vital piece of us: We reflect on them as we grow to maintain the lessons we learned in those moments that make us who we are.  We see the danger of lost memories not just with Lance, but with Balan as well as part of Sana’s conclusion alludes to a potential relapse.  It was her connection to the people she met in Wonderworld that allowed her to recognize one of them--Eis Glover--back home and keep her grounded in another, potentially shattering instant of her life. Similarly, Leo only managed to restore his imbalance because of his friendships with the other inhabitants--friendships he was destined to lose the moment he walked out of the theatre had Balan taken everyone’s memories.  This too, I feel, could’ve caused Leo to relapse.  If so, Balan’s choice to let them keep their memories of Wonderworld likely prevented them from needing to come back to the theatre--at least not as often as they may have needed to otherwise.  Let’s get to the question Lance brings up at the end: “Honestly, enough with the self-deception.  You normally take everyone’s memories when they leave, so why this time did you make an exception?” It could be that Balan simply didn’t want to be forgotten anymore.  It could also be that he loved them enough that he didn’t want them to suffer to the extent where they had to return to the theatre even if it meant there was a chance he wouldn’t see them again.  That idea would beg a second question though: Why did Balan erase the memories of every inhabitant who came before them?   (If it isn’t obvious by now, this scene was my favorite bit in the whole book.)    

I know this whole post seems to be mostly a series of complaints, but I did enjoy the book overall: I just have a tendency to look at every detail and, when things don’t work, they stay in my mind for a long while.  Like I said at the start, the novel isn’t a bad read, it just has some bad points.  If you’re already a fan of the game, you’ll probably enjoy it too.  If not, I’d recommend checking out some of the other content available--like the video previews/cutscenes introducing the characters--before stepping into this.   

#balan wonderworld #bww #video games #novel #novelization

[chaoticcloudcommand]

I think my partner is mad at me but the reason he's mad at me kinda makes me upset with him. For context...

I am the junior EMT on ALS ambulance rig

It's christmas but my partner picked up these hours.

He's working a 36, but again... he picked up these hours

He works way too much over time and is burning himself out

There was a scheduling error and I had to come in an hour earlier

My partner is one of the nicest and most patient people in the field and is never like this

We are currently working on the busiest truck in the county and there is very little time to do anything between much needed sleep.

I came in the morning and immediately went to do the truck check. I made sure all of our necessary equipment was there and restocked what was missing and I then tagged the cabinets to show nothing was missing. I tested all of our equipment to make sure it was working. Made sure I asked how much gas was in the truck. Checked the oxygen. Everything.

Except, I did not clean. The floor of the truck was dirty and there were linens left on the bench seat that I didn't put away in the cabinet. I know I should've done these things but they slipped my mind and I completely over looked them as they aren't that big of a deal anyway. I did all of the important things. Other then those two things the truck was a really good shape and one of the best we had been given in a while.

My partner W came in the morning after working a 12 last night on the easiest car in the county that gets almost no calls. I was asleep when he came in but was able to acknowledge that he was atleast here. 15 or so minutes later someone comes out of the bay, turns the lights on and says "Cloud, W is on a 36. Go help him with the truck he's doing it all by himself". Thinking the truck was fine I because I checked it earlier I went out there to tell him that very little if anything has to be done bc I already checked the truck.

Our conversation went like this...

W: Did you check the truck?

Me: Yes, I blue tagged the cabinets and checked all the equipment. We aren't missing anything.

W:... this truck is a fucking disaster. How could I expect anything else its always like this!

Me: ...

W: No one ever fucking cleans or does anything any more. *puts away extra linens*

M: *sits down and reaches for the monitor to check the batteries and help him with what little is left*

W: You don't need to do that I already did it! It's fine you can just go back to sleep.

M: are you sure? I'm sorry I didn't help when you got here but by the time I realized what you were doing you were already done...

W: yeah it's fine! I got it.

I can very clearly tell that it is in fact not fine and that he is upset with me. Weather he is upset with me directly or just the situation I don't know. But I don't feel like I did anything wrong to warrant him acting like this so now I'm upset. W is usually never like this and has a reputation in the company for being the most calm and collected, patient, non-confrontational, understanding paramedic. I just hope this doesn't set the tone for the rest of the day.

Idk. AITA?

Edit: He was in there for about another 20 minutes. Presumably cleaning and fixing up the truck. There wasn't that much left to possibly take that long so I don't know what he's doing and I didn't want to go in there and piss him off more. He went back and forth a few times from the living quarters to the bay to grab things (I'm not sure exactly what). During those times, and now that's he's done, he didn't talk to me at least once and is now giving me the cold shoulder.

#am i the asshole #ems #AITA

[myrandomfandomramblings]

Madarcher fanfic

Over 2 years ago I decided to write a fic to explain all the apparent inconsistences in 7x10, especially in regard to the stage of Madarcher’s relationship. It didn’t really work and I’m not a great writer but I did end up with a pretty cute (and longer than intended – 4776 wds) fic detailing my version of how Madarcher (mostly Robin) spent the ~24 hrs before the curse. Complete with skinny dipping, proposal planning, some fun ideas of past adventures and a flashback to their first kiss. So I hope you enjoy!

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

The Sun was just setting in the Enchanted Forest 2.0 turning the sky brilliant hues of pink and orange as Robin and Alice emerged from a crack in the trunk of a giant redcedar.

“See I told you Ancient Amy’s wardrobe would take us back to our realm,” Alice said gesturing to the woods around them.

“Aha, but what you failed to mention was that ancient Amy was a 20 ft long purple dragon that lived in a volcanic crater.” Robin retorted “And that to get there we would have to walk across lava fields for 6 hrs in 100 oF weather” she added, absentmindedly touching her sunburnt cheeks.

“Did I?” Alice replied shrugging her shoulders, before both girls burst into laughter.

They both knew Robin wasn’t actually mad, she was just tired. They both were and after 6 months of crazy adventures throughout the realms they were both happy to be home.

“Well the good news is now all we have to do is follow the river then turn left at the bridge and we’ll be home in 20 minutes,” Alice said grabbing her girlfriend’s hand and pulling her through the trees towards the sound of rushing water.

As they walked the sound became louder and in no time they were standing at the edge of a small gorge. About 40 feet below a river snaked its way along the gorge’s base and steam rose off small rock pools beside it. A little further upstream a beautiful three-tier waterfall ended in a large pool.

“Race you to the bottom!” Alice exclaimed as she let go of Robin’s hand and began traversing the steep slope. Robin was right behind her, sliding between trees and rocks until her cloak got snagged on a rogue root. By the time she had untangled herself and got to the bottom of the gorge Alice was already swimming in the pool at the base of the waterfall and her clothes and bag were hung on a nearby willow tree. Robin’s eyes traced the lines of Alice’s body taking in the scrapes, bruises, and scars that were like a map to all of Alice’s adventures many of which Robin accompanied her on. Although they had known each other for almost 7 years and had been dating for 5, though dating seemed too insignificant a word to accurately describe there relationship, Robin was still amazed by how lucky she was to love and be loved by such a beautiful women, both inside and out.

“Are you going to join me or just stand there and stare?” Alice teased splashing some water in Robin’s direction and pulling her out of her reverie. Robin quickly discarded her clothes, hanging them beside Alice’s then joined her love in the pool. The water was cold but it felt good on Robin’s hot skin and sore muscles. As Robin swam around she watched as dirt and grim flaked off her body and diffused into the water around her. Alice swam over to her and uncorked what looked like a wine bottle “Some Greener Cleaner?” Alice asked tipping it towards Robin.

“Yes please” Robin replied cupping her hands in front of her. A bright green liquid trickled from the bottle as Alice poured it into Robin’s outstretched hands. “Thanks,” Robin said as she began lathering her hair with the colourful liquid. Alice meanwhile had poured some for herself and began doing the same. The Greener Cleaner had been a Christmas present from Zelena, a homemade potion that served as soap, shampoo, conditioner and lotion. It could be used in water or when you were completely dry and would vanish after being applied, leaving you sparkling clean and moisturized while having no impact on the environment. Once both girls’ had washed their hair they began rubbing the greener cleaner down their arms and legs and over the rest of their bodies, relishing the feeling of nearly a week of accumulated dirt being removed from their skin.

“Want some help?” Alice asked laughing at Robin who twisted and turned trying to reach her back.

“That would be great, Thanks Al,” Robin replied as she turned her back towards the blonde.

“My pleasure,” Alice answered playfully as she ran her hands over her girlfriend’s back and down to her butt. “How’s that” she whispered into Robin’s neck Robin let out a short moan as she leaned back into the shorter girl. “Now there’s just one more place you missed,” Alice said mischievously before collecting a finger full of green foam from Robin’s arm and depositing it on the tip of her nose.Robin spun around as Alice jumped back giggling.

“Oh I’ll get you for that,” Robin teased collecting two handfuls of green suds and holding them high for Alice to see

“Not if I get you first,” Alice countered lobbing another glob of green at Robin. And then the pool filled with flying green foam and infectious laughter that echoed off the walls of the gorge. When the foam suddenly disappeared water became the weapon of choice. The young lovers splashed each other and attempted to drag or tackle the other under the water even though they were already completely soaked. The battle only ended when both sides were completely out of breath and their sides too sore from laughing to continue.

By this time the sun had disappeared behind a hill and the sky had turned to grey effectively dropping the temperature several degrees. The water once refreshing now just felt like ice, to Robin, seeping into her veins and bones. And when she looked at Alice she noticed her teeth were chattering and her lips were starting to turn blue. “Should we warm up a bit?” Robin asked pointing slightly downstream to the steam curling off the surface of a series of small pools beside the river.Alice just nodded locking hands with Robin as they made there way out of the pool and past the willow tree their clothes were hung on.

“I’m just going to put the greener cleaner away and grab something from my bag,” Alice said shivering, “I’ll meet you there,” she added pointing to the hot pool.

“OK,” Robin replied begrudgingly untangling their hands. Robin slowly made her way to the hot pool, clambering over rocks and making sure not to trip. By the time she got there she was shivering violently but that subsided quickly once she submerged herself in the warm water. This pool was much smaller than the first, about the size of a large bathtub. Robin laid down, leaning against the wall of the small pool, and closed her eyes letting the warm water caress her tired, achy body. She only opened her eyes when she heard Alice coming towards her. Robin could only make out her silhouette as the light was quickly fading but it looked like she was carrying something in front of her.

As she got closer Robin could make out a tray that was topped with grapes, apples, a baguette, a block of cheese, a stick of cured meat and a jar of marmalade ,as well as, some plates and cutlery. She also noticed that their canteens were draped over Alice’s shoulder. “Dinner is served,” Alice said as she placed the tray and canteens by Robin’s head “I didn’t have time to cut anything though,” she added shyly.

“It’s perfect!” Robin beamed reaching up a hand to help Alice into the pool. Once Alice was comfortably seated in the hot spring beside Robin they started on the food. The crazy adventures of the day had pushed food out of Robin’s mind but now that it was right in front of her she realized just how hungry she was and it didn’t take long until all the food was gone.

“Well that was delicious, thanks Towergirl” Robin said as she sunk deeper into the pool.

“You’re welcome, Nobin,” Alice replied sinking down beside Robin and leaning her head on the archer’s shoulder, “and thanks for a great adventure, It was definitely one of my craziest, I mean we almost died 13 ½ times, assuming you count that thing with the panflute, but it was a lot of fun with you by my side,” Alice finished, a large smile spreading across her face as she closed her eyes and nestled in closer to Robin.

“I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else,” Robin replied kissing her girlfriend’s forehead. And after that adventure she was surer than ever that she wanted to be by Alice’s side for the rest of her life.

Robin had been intrigued by the ‘girl in the tower’ since Nook first started telling her stories about his special daughter. When she first met Alice she was amazed by her beauty, tenacity and optimism and by the end of that first day, Robin knew Alice was someone special that she wanted to be part of her life. And as they got to know each other Robin’s feelings for Alice just continued to grow.  She had hidden them for a long time, using the delivery of Nook’s letters and anything else she could think of as an excuse to see Alice rather than admit the real reason she visited so often and risk loosing her best friend. Eventually, they had begun hanging out, just to enjoy each other’s company, no excuses necessary, but only in the context of best friends albeit with quite a lot of less than subtle flirting. Robin had debated telling Alice about how she felt at this point but between Alice’s frequent trips to other realms to run errands for Rumple or try to find a cure for her father and Robin’s own endeavours which regularly took her away from home she had decided the time apart would put to much strain on a new relationship. However, it was in these times apart that Robin realized just how much Alice meant to her. How much she missed her, longed for her and loved her. 

Looking back now Robin was pretty sure she had been in love with Alice since the day they met but just hadn’t realized it until then and realizing just how strong her feelings were had made Robin determined to tell Alice when she returned from her travels. Alice must have been thinking along similar lines because a couple weeks later, that day came. It was Alice’s birthday, exactly two years since the day they met. Alice having just returned from her latest trip had knocked on the door of Emerald Acres Farm then waited, nervously pacing in circles, ringing her hands and rehearsing a speech under her breath: “Robin, two years ago I met you, you turned a bad day into a good day, and when you told me to make a wish I wished to spend more days with you… No… No…” Alice mumbled shaking her head “I’ve been on a lot of amazing adventures but the best has been getting to know you or they’re always better with you?” she shook her head again clearly still not happy with her words, “… and the thing is… I guess what I’m trying to say… I just want to tell you… I love you,” Alice sighed and stilled, her wheels turning, trying to find the right words, she was so focused on her thoughts she had completely forgotten where she was. 

“I love you too,” came Robin’s voice from the doorway. Alice looked up in surprise. She was completely caught off guard having not heard the door open but when her gaze fell on Robin she immediately relaxed, a smile spreading across her face. The archer’s eyes were shining and a blush had covered her cheeks. 

“I missed you, Nobin,” Alice teased as she stepped closer to the woman she loved. “I missed you too, TowerGirl,” Robin said laughing as a tear slid down her cheek. Alice took another step closer reaching up to wipe away the tear and then they were in each other’s arms and they were kissing and everything else melted away.

They had begun dating after that, within 6 months Robin was spending most nights at Alice’s unless they were on an adventure, which they nearly always went on together. In another 6 months they had moved Robin’s last few belongings still at Emerald Green Acres to their little cabin in the woods making their co-habitation official. By that time Robin had known that Alice was her forever but she had just always figured that they would make it official when they were ready to settle down, when they were no longer jumping between realms every other day, when they had time to plan a wedding, when they were ready to raise a family. But perhaps most importantly when they found a cure for Nook’s cursed heart so he could walk Alice down the aisle. However, this last adventure had made Robin re-evaluate these assumptions. In those moments where it seemed they were about to die, before they narrowly escaped, she was reminded that tomorrow is never guaranteed so she decided she didn’t want to wait any longer to make their love and life together official and ask Alice to marry her.

“There was certainly something extra special about this adventure, some of the scariest and happiest moments of my life” Robin added reflecting on her musings.

“I definitely wouldn’t have been able to get all of the stuff for Rumple without you. I was thinking we should probably bring it all to him tomorrow morning, then we can go see my Papa in the afternoon and have dinner with your Mom. I’m sure they’ll both be very happy to see us,” Alice said, tilting her head up slightly to look at her girlfriend.

“That sounds nice” Robin replied. But she was already starting to formulate a plan of her own. There were three things Robin needed to do before she could propose to Alice. 1) Ask Nook for his blessing. This seemed pretty old fashioned to Robin. Alice was a grown, independent woman who was more than capable of making her own decisions with or without her father’s approval, but Robin knew how much Alice’s Papa meant to her and how much he treasured her happiness and wished he could be more involved in her life. So, she figured they would probably both appreciate her sharing the plan with him first. Plus, he was hundreds of years old, or at least the Hook in Storybrooke where she grew up was. She wasn’t actually sure if the same was true of Alice’s Papa, but if it was he would likely favour the more traditional route. 2) Tell her mom. Robin knew that Zelena would be less than impressed if she heard such exciting news second hand and she was also hoping her mom might act as a sounding board to help her brainstorm some ideas and workout the logistics. 3) Get a ring (obviously). And most importantly, to maintain the surprise, Robin had to do all this without Alice finding out.

Robin had got so lost in her thoughts she hadn’t even noticed that night had completely engulfed them. The sky above them was full of twinkling stars and a nearly full moon reflected off the nearby pool and provided enough light to softly illuminate their surroundings. The chirping of crickets and croaking of frogs filled the air accompanied by the occasional hoot from an owl somewhere deeper in the forest. The only other sounds Robin could hear were the running river and Alice’s slow, regular breathing as she slept soundly on Robin’s shoulder. Alice looked so peaceful and Robin hated to wake her, but she too was starting to nod off and was eager to get back to their cabin and sleep in their own bed. So, gently she nudged Alice awake and together they climbed out of the pool, collected the remnants of their dinner and retrieved their belongings from the willow. They each wrapped their cloaks around themselves like towels and crammed the rest of their belongings into Alice’s magical bag which had been gifted to her by Rumple and enchanted to fit anything without getting bigger or heavier. Then they walked in silence enjoying the smell of fresh forest air, the sound of nocturnal songs and the feeling of their hands intertwined together back to their little cabin where they swiftly threw on night gowns then climbed into bed and fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

Robin awoke the next morning to birds singing, just as the sun was beginning to rise. Beside her Alice was still fast asleep. As Robin watched her love’s chest steadily rise and fall, she began to plan her day. She wanted to get engaged as soon as possible. She didn’t want to wait any longer to commit to this amazing woman, to cement just how much Alice means to her. And she defiantly didn’t want to get whisked away on another dangerous adventure before she got the opportunity. Therefore, she had made up her mind. Today was the day to get all the logistics worked out so she could give Alice the super special proposal she deserved. The only problem was she had to come up with an excuse to be away from Alice, for the whole day.

Alice and Robin were rarely apart. When they were it was usually for no more than a few hours at a time. Their parents often joked about how they must be sick of each other, but they never were. Therefore, not only was it going to be hard to come up with a believable excuse but as Robin sat there watching Alice sleep the idea of being away from her all day was becoming less and less appealing. She knew that as soon as her girlfriend woke up and looked at her with those big blue eyes and grinned that dazzling smile Robin’s will power to leave would be all but vanished. So, determined to not be swayed Robin reached into the drawer of her bedside table to retrieve paper and a pen and began to compose a letter.

           To my love, Alice,

           I am sorry to leave you with only a note, but you looked so peaceful and after our last few months of adventure you definitely needed your rest, so I didn’t want to wake you. I had such a great time traveling the realms with you and I always enjoy spending time together, but I think after 6 months of being together 24/7 it would be good for both of us to have a little time to ourselves. Just one whole WHOLE day of not seeing each other. So, I’ve left to visit my mom then I will spend the rest of the day hunting and collecting food for us. You can take the items to Rumple and see your Papa or just enjoy your day. And I will meet you back here tomorrow at sunrise.

Robin reread the letter and it didn’t even convince herself. So, she continued to write.

I know this seems quite drastic, but I think it will be really good for us. So, please, please please, don’t try to find me. Under any circumstances. I will see you tomorrow at sunrise. NO SOONER, NO LATER.

All my love,

Robin

Robin reread it again. She didn’t like it. It was bossy and she worried even rude. And the explanation was lousy at best. However, she was at least convinced that it was persuasive and therefore it would ensure Alice heeded her directions and thus would provide her with the time and secrecy she needed. She was also certain she couldn’t come up with anything better. So, determinedly she got out of bed, got ready and headed to her Mom’s leaving Alice with a kiss on the forehead and the letter waiting for her on the table.

As Robin walked through the woods to her mother’s farm she began brainstorming ideas for her proposal. She could put the ring in a cupcake and surprise Alice on her Birthday: the anniversary of the day they met and two years later the day they started dating. But what if Alice swallowed the ring? Maybe not the best plan. She thought about trying to recreate the day they first met but being trapped in cages, chased by an angry mob of villagers and ultimately having to turn your first friend to stone didn’t seem very romantic. She considered planning something that involved their loved ones since family was so important to both girls but ultimately decided that between Nook’s cursed heart and Zelena’s flair for the dramatic that was just asking for disaster. She was just starting to think about something more lowkey like breakfast in bed (eating), followed by a hike (walking) to a nice picnic (more eating).  Afterall, Robin was a big fan of food. When she realized she could see Emerald Acres in the clearing ahead. She had been so lost in her thoughts she hadn’t even realized how far she had come.

As Robin approached, she noticed her Mom was on the front porch, glaring at an object as she turned it over in her hands. Hearing Robin, Zelena looked up, a smile spread across her face and the item was quickly discarded into her pocket as she ran out the gate to hug her daughter. “I missed you too Mom,” Robin sighed as Zelena squished her in a bear hug. “How long have I been gone?”

As time moved differently in each realm this was always an important question to ask. One-time Alice and Robin had left right after breakfast, spent 5 weeks in Wonderland emptying Robin’s grandmother’s, the Queen of Heart’s, vault and returning all the hearts to their rightful owners, and were home in time for dinner the same day they left. While another time, they took a quick weekend trip to Oz to visit Ruby and Dorothy and when they returned, they had missed Christmas and both their parents’ birthdays.

“About 6 months,” Zelena replied, releasing Robin from her death grip.

“That’s about how long it was for us too.”

“Speaking of you two, is everything all right, where’s Alice,” Zelena questioned

“Everything’s fine Mom. Actually more than fine. That’s why I’m here alone, actually. I wanted to tell you that I’m going to ask Alice to marry me!”

“That’s fantastic” Zelena exclaimed as she smothered Robin into another hug. “All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy and I can see that Alice makes you happy.”

“She sure does,” Robin exhaled as she hugged her mom back.

“But for the record you don’t need an agenda to visit. You can come anytime simply to see the outstanding woman that birthed and raised you,” Zelena said releasing her daughter and stepping back to strike a pose.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Robin replied rolling her eyes, “But for know I could really use your help planning the proposal… ye of endless wisdom.”

“Of course. Where should we begin?” Zelena asked as she opened the front door and led Robin into the house.

Several hours of conversation covered the following. Summaries of what they had each been up to in the last 6 months. A number of overly extravagant proposal ideas from Zelena. Robin ultimately deciding to go with her more low-key idea from earlier and Zelena helping her pick the details to make it extra-special and coincidentally a lot less low-key. She decided on marmalade toast and tea for breakfast, Alice’s favourite. The hike idea got converted to a scavenger hunt to collect clues in the form of mementos and pictures from their time together. Each clue would have a letter on the back and when they are put in order would spell ‘Will you marry me?’ After all, Alice loves adventure and puzzles. Plus, this way their loved ones could be involved by each having a clue to give Alice. Robin wanted to spend the day with Alice and see all her reactions, so she was going to accompany her. She was going to present it as an anniversary/birthday present, early or belated. That was the thing about frequently being in different realms where time moved differently, you could pretty much celebrate anything whenever you wanted. The final clue would lead them to a picnic in a clearing where a board would be set up for Alice to organize the clues and reveal the hidden message and then they could star-gaze as a newly engaged couple. Once that plan was settled Robin casually mentioned needing to find a ring. Zelena responded to this by casually going outside and using her magic to pull up the biggest diamond Robin had ever seen, directly from Earth’s mantle. She then magicked it into a ring setting that she continued to change based on Robin’s feedback until Robin had the perfect ring for Alice. One last burst of green magic created a ring box which robin placed the ring inside before slipping it into her pocket. Years later in another realm Robin would find this box, ring still inside in the basement of Roni’s bar just in time for the curse to be broken.

Having completed tasks 2 and 3 on her list Robin set off to Nook’s but when she arrived, nobody was home. Although she had wanted to have everything ready for the proposal by the end of the day, during her conversation with her mom, she had realized her vision would take a little more time and planning. Therefore, she knew she would have another opportunity to talk to Nook. In fact, Robin was sure Alice would have a letter for her to take to Nook detailing their latest adventure in the next few days. 

It was routine that when they returned home from an adventure, the first day back Alice and Robin would visit Nook. Alice would stand several meters away from Nook behind a tree and yell an approximately 3-minute summary of their adventure. Any longer or closer and Nook’s life would become endangered by his poisoned heart so they would say their I love yous and good-byes and a few days later Robin would return with a letter from Alice to her Papa about their latest adventure in glorious detail. So confident in her plan, Robin returned to her mother’s.

As she approached emerald acres farm a figure outside the gate triggered her nerves which were still frayed from 6 months of dangerous adventuring. This resulted in Robin firing a warning shot at the perpetrator who Robin was relieved to realize was her aunt Regina. Regina was quick to play the how old are you now game, their way of dealing with the inter-realm time differences. Sometimes Regina guessed close like today, 23 when Robin was 25 and sometimes, she just chose outrageous numbers. Robin and Alice spent so much time in different realms and missed so many birthdays she would actually be surprised if Regina was able to guess right if she tried. Robin was less happy to hear Regina’s news, which immediately made her worry about Alice. Zelena and Regina still loved to tease not only her and Alice but also Henry and Ella about their ‘young love’. ‘A love so pure and powerful it consumes all your thoughts and prevents you from thinking about anything else, or rationally at all,’ they liked to say. Whenever Robin was daydreaming and not listening to her mom and aunt or talking exclusively about Alice, they would say she had a case of young love. Robin ignored their teasing. She was pretty sure Alice would be at Rumple’s and wanted to immediately run there. However, Regina assured her Nook was on his way to warn Rumple of the impending curse, so Robin agreed to stay and help stop it. This changed when Nook arrived with a letter for Robin from Alice detailing all of her visions for their future together. She had given everyone hugs goodbye and ran out the door as green magic braided her hair and her mother yelled, “You want to look your best for your girlfriend if it’s going to be the last time she sees you!” Robin continued to run as fast as she could all the way to Rumple’s and into Alice’s arms to see the love of her life one last time. Turns out it wasn’t the last time and she got to fall in love with the girl of her dreams all over again and this time she didn’t wait to pop the question.

--------------------------------------- The End ---------------------------------------

Note: Hook telling Robin stories about Alice before they met, a proposal involving a picnic and stargazing and Zelena using magic to braid Robin’s hair before she left to find Alice all came from different fanfics I read like 2 years ago and now can’t find again to credit. So if you wrote these thank-you for the inspiration. 

#madarcher #curious archer #ouat #once upon a time

[phoenotopia]

2019 December Update

The game is officially playable from beginning to end!

That battle has concluded...

Soon begins the war! But first, a brief reprieve for the holidays.

And I must throw in the usual caveats. We're still playtesting, we're still polishing, we still gotta get age ratings, more red tape, etc etc. And most importantly, we need to figure out the launch strategy. Think Megaman, charging his shot for 5 and a half years... We're not allowed to miss at this point. It has to HIT.

Luckily, we're in a relatively stable position where we don't have to rush the game out immediately. It's not LAUNCH or STARVE - it's... take some time to aim a little. We don't want to launch in the shadow of a bigger behemoth game, and we don't want to launch completely unknown either. We have to build up the game's media presence, which has been neglected so far. I know it's annoying to have to continue to wait... but please bear with us a little longer!

Here's what we've been doing for the past couple months.

---------- THE SCRIPT ----------

The script sits at over 80,000 words. I didn't realize the significance until a teammate told me that that's actually as long as a novel! I looked it up, and sure enough, it's a little longer than the first Harry Potter. But unlike Harry Potter, hardly any of these words are wasted on, pffft, narration. It's all juicy dialogue!

(Some of the game's golden nuggets of dialogue)

There was actually a lot of mundanity getting to the end. Pirate, acting as my editor, caught tons of errors and inconsistencies. One of the most recurring issues had to do with capitalization. I like to capitalize things, often inconsistently. Some common questions that arose:

Why is this text highlighted yellow, and this one highlighted blue?

Why is this monster name capitalized, but this monster not?

Why is this item capitalized, and this one not?

... and so on!

All very mundane issues, but all very necessary to tackle. And there was a TON of 'em. (em vs 'em was another thing we had to make consistent). I actually did some research to see what capitalization rules Zelda had. From what I could tell, when it comes to animals and monsters in the Zelda universe:

All monsters are capitalized

All regular animals are not capitalized

The Cuccos are special, and ARE capitalized

(a collage of Zelda pictures I assembled to study)

In the Zelda universe, all regular items are lowercase, but highlighted blue when mentioned in a quest context (e.g. "butter", "hylian wheat"). Items can be uppercase, if they are special named items (e.g. "Sheikah Slate"). We adopted similar rules as Zelda in some cases, and deviated in others. For instance, in the Phoenotopia universe, there isn't a clear distinction between animals and monsters - that fish monster is really just an animal that happens to be the alpha predator in its natural habitat. So most entities are lowercase, but "big deal" entities can be uppercase.

(we made a formal document to consult whenever a question regarding capitalization arises)

---------- A SAMPLING of QUEST AND CHARACTERS ----------

A lot of new quests have arisen in our great writing effort extending over the past several months. And with it, new characters, big and small. I'll tease a sampling of some of them here (warning: some light spoilers ahead):

My favorite new quest is undoubtedly our game's new "Trading Quest". This one takes inspiration from the Zelda series - the trading quest similarly has you roaming the world and its towns in search of needy people who desire a particular item. Deliver them the item they desire, and get a new item. Do this 10 times, and the ultimate weapon awaits you at the end.

I tried some things to vary up the formula. Some NPCs don't reveal what they need right away - steps have to be taken to get them there. It's also possible to go down the wrong route in the sequence, and have to double-back. We try to keep it interesting.

---------- LOOT PLACEMENTS & GAME BALANCING ----------

A great effort was also spent towards balancing the game this past 2 months. Because even one good healing item, easily obtained, can throw the game's whole difficulty off-kilter. And this same principle applies to other areas, like the money economy and player powerup options. Altogether, they form a very delicate ecosystem for enjoyment.

One of the recent things I did for this game was put down exactly where each heart ruby, energy gem, and moonstone could be found. And this was actually a rather involved process because you have a limited number of rewards to distribute (you wouldn't want the final max HP count to be a weird number like 297). Put too many rewards in the beginning, and the late dungeons would have no rewards to offer. Put too much in the end, and the inverse happens.

I found myself going back into earlier areas and plundering their rewards to fill the later areas. And then to ensure a relatively even spread of rewards within each area themselves, I drew crude maps of the dungeons & their reward spots, so that they could be studied from a bird's eye perspective.

But it was still not enough. With NPC quests and towns also taking up their own allotment of the rewards, I found myself running low on things to distribute. So I went back to the books and upped the number of rewards across the board. Before there were 44 Heart Rubies to collect - there are now 55. Before each Heart Ruby boosted your max HP by 5, but now each one now boosts your max HP by 4, so your final max HP count would still end up the same. It's kinda similar to what happened with Twilight Princess, where they broke with tradition and made 5 heart containers required to gain a new heart instead of the usual 4. Overall, the final tally for treasure to find is:

55 heart pieces

30 energy gems

108 moon stones

Who's crazy enough to collect them all?

---------- BADGES / ACHIEVEMENTS ----------

As one of the game's finishing touches, there's a menu for BADGES - they're this game's version of achievements. This is an ongoing task that we hope to stamp out this December. A few favorites of mine from the original flash game will return ("Pillow Connoisseur" is among them).

(The menu looks like this before any badges are earned)

I allocated slots for just 33 badges, so we're selecting the badges very carefully. We got rid of most of the fluffy ones that appeared in the flash game - we wanted to reduce the number of badges that you would earn automatically for just playing the game (so no more "1st boss", "2nd boss", "3rd boss" achievements). We're aiming for a healthy mix of easily earned badges, hard earned badges, collectathon badges, secret fun badges, and so on.

The badges have another twist - they bear miniaturized portraits of characters from the game! In the initial brainstorm mockup phase, I wasn't really fond of the badge designs. You got a medal of a heart because you collected some hearts, and you got the medal of a moonstone for collecting moonstones, etc. It just seemed so... expected.

(various badge mockups)

How could we engage the players on a more fun and deep level? The idea came - what if we attached pictures of the people you meet on your journey? And these people's stories and character would have a connection with the achievement? That could keep the player guessing which character would come attached with an achievement, or even reveal a hidden detail about the character you didn't know.

---------- MUSIC ----------

Will has just one more task to do. And that's to recut the song for the trailer. One of our other goals for this December is to make a really good trailer... again. There's actually 2 other trailers we cut and never made public for reasons. Maybe I'll talk about them one day in the post-mortem.

Since this may be the last conventional update, we wondered with which song to best leave the audience. And we decided that the most suitable song is "Sanctuary". It's a song that the player will often encounter often when they happen upon a quiet resting place in the world.

There's a little story behind this song. Two and a half years ago, I linked Will the Earthbound song, "Buzz buzz's prophecy", and told him, make a song like that!

In response, Will made "Sanctuary".

Give it a listen HERE. What do you think? Did Will hit close to the greats?

---------- FAN ART ----------

Three fan arts have come in the last couple months. I display them here proudly:

Another submission by Cody G! Gale looking shy as she flashes the V sign for the camera. I like how Cody G's art is continually evolving. Note the additional detail on her eye, and how her hair is drawn extra fluffy. Very nice!

Shafiyahh is another consistent contributor, and made one in the spirit of Halloween. I really like their costumes! Gale as an angel, and Lisa as a demon, fittingly captures their relationship, since Gale is the responsible one and Lisa is the troublemaker. So cute!

A contribution from a new artist, Negativus Core! Wow, Gale looks so bada-- here! We often forget about Gale's tough side due to the cutesy graphics. This is probably how her enemies see her. And the gummy (slime) is a cute touch!

---------- FINAL NOTES ----------

Similar to last year, this will be the last update for a while. If things run too slow, I'll post a status update come end of February 2020.

It's possible, and this is a BIG IF, that something notable happens sooner than expected - like we're going to a con or we have reason to drop the trailer sooner than later. If so, this blog will update earlier than expected. BIG IF. Otherwise, it's end of February till next you hear of us.

The game's development has reached a new uncharted territory. We're going to take the time and figure out exactly what our next steps are. In addition, we'll still be doing some playtesting and script polishing. And we'll be taking a break too. It is the holiday season, things move kind of slow around this time of year. We'll enjoy the company of our family and friends.

Until then, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

[all-good-things-dot-dot-dot]

All Good Things… Creative In An Uncreative Place

#Blog #Bloggerstribe #AllGoodThings…

6th June 2020

Hello, Chaps and Chapettes, 

Have you ever felt that you are being stifled? You know what you want to do and you may even have all of the energy to do it, but there’s one big ol’ problem that’s stopping you. You’re not in the right place and it isn’t the right time. There’s hope, but to get to that hope we have to crawl through the dung first. 

(Photo: https://latetothegameoutdoors.com/blog/2017/10/25/i-could-never-do-that-and-other-lies-we-tell-ourselves )

Let me put this into a context. Some jobs are not made for people who want to get up, do something, and enjoy what they are doing. There are jobs that are necessary where the fun has to grind to a halt because if it didn’t, nothing would get done and there would be nobody around to have fun with. Sometimes, that job is not for you, but you have to do it because A) you have bills that you cannot contentedly screw up and ignore because then ALL OF THE FUN WOULD STOP AND HOMELESSNESS WOULD START, and B) no matter how much you want to enjoy life, a livelihood has to be a staple to overcome first. 

You’ve probably heard a lot of people say that if you’re looking for a job you enjoy, then you should go out there, quit what you’re doing and go get it! Or, you should work hard for it and eventually the hard work will pay off! While I cannot say the former would work, because I frankly haven’t had the balls or the healthy bank balance to try it, I can say with certainty that the latter is extremely hard. Especially if you have spent a lot of your life saying ‘I’ll do it later’ and sitting on your ass doing just enough important stuff to get by without people shouting at you. For me, it was mostly raised voices but nothing that constituted an actual bollocking (that means getting a serious talking to, to those not familiar with it). 

There’s another reason why being creative is hard, while trying to keep up a job, pay bills, do everything to make your home feel like you definitely ARE NOT homeless, and all the other fun stuff that constitutes being human. That reason is that it is tiring. You come up with a great idea, maybe MANY great ideas, and they’re all exciting and wonderful, and you jot some of them down, you make a start on them, and you’re not even halfway through when… What? Where’s the energy for this gone? Where are the enthusiasm and eagerness and promises that THIS TIME it won’t fall on its arse? 

The answer is that a lot has happened since the point you first got excited. You’ve been to work, you’ve made a meal, you’ve done laundry, done the shopping. Maybe you’ve rested but then done all that again, probably spoken to a few people in between, get excited about something else, even gotten invested in somebody else’s visions on TV or in a book. In the space of an hour of having an idea, you’ve already thought of a hundred other things and done at least a couple of them. The matter is that your body and mind is constantly doing the Tasmanian Devil from the Looney Tunes, spinning about and yelling and spitting, but we’re not cartoons and it is tiring after one rotation.

(Photo: https://www.standingstills.com/taz-the-tasmanian-devil-looney-tunes-cardboard-cutout-standup-standee-cac522 )

So, where is the hope for any of your projects to see a finishing line? This is the hard lesson I’ve had to learn and it was summarized nicely in a chat I heard Ricky Gervais having with his fans online the other day: 

“I've got my next idea, but I mustn't even think about it yet because you've got to put everything you can into every series. Leave it in the ring, don't leave it up to the judges.” 

(Gervais, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5qlOJPEeGDc, 2020)

If you are coming up with exciting new ideas while working, and paying bills, and breathing, then it is best and easiest to task your mind on only one of those things until you have mastered it. In Gervais’ context, he was discussing his own projects, explaining that he wanted to keep his mind on his current one (Afterlife on Netflix) and complete that before he started anything new. He realized in himself that if he tried to do too much at once, he did not make a satisfactory job of it. Here’s another quote I like that explains the same premise.

"Never half-ass two things. Whole ass one thing." 

(Nick Offerman as Ron Swanson, Sweet Sixteen” Season 4, Episode 16, Parks and Recreation)

This does not mean you must dismiss other ideas while working on your current one. There’s nothing wrong with writing things down and holding onto them for future endeavors. In fact, in the Creative Writing degree, I’m currently studying, it actively encourages keeping a writing journal at all times for scribbling all the new ideas, titbits and potential plots that come to you from the world you live in. That also leads to another good point.

(photo: https://www.acsh.org/news/2017/12/18/wishing-you-ron-swanson-christmas-12269 )

Don’t treat your world, work, even bill-paying life, as an albatross around your neck. Instead, treat it as inspiration. Look at work with new eyes, look at the characters you meet, the crazy things that happen, the serious stories that come from that happen to you, and the people around you and use that. Don’t use people by name, of course, because that could get you in hot water, but perhaps there’s more to it than just a grindstone. Dawn from the office could inspire that lady with all the juicy gossip in your next play, story, or drawing. The trouble you had paying that last bill will encourage you to find a new, better way to help people with their money or stress. Just because the world is a grindstone, doesn’t mean you can’t imagine it as a carousel with lights and a jaunty tune instead.  

The world, no matter how big or small yours is, has a lot more going for it than you think. 

So next time you feel bored, fed up, lonely, sad or angry, ask yourself one thing. 

How can I make something more interesting out of this? Don’t let boundaries get you down.

All good things, 

Love, Scaramouche.

x

#ron swanson #ricky gervais #blog #taz #blogger #blogging #bloggerstribe #all good things

[alwaysspeakshermind]

Top 5 Anti-Varchie Arguments & Why They Make No Sense

#3: “Varchie breaks up every other day/they’re so toxic.”

Yeah, so...to quote both Hamlet 3.3.87 and that one Bugs Bunny meme—NO. 

[Quick but serious question: is this whole “they break up all the time” thing a trying-to-be-cleverly-snarky exaggeration, or are people really just that unobservant? I want to believe it’s the first, but I see it so often now that I’m becoming horribly afraid it’s the latter.]

Over the course of three seasons and 57 episodes, Archie and Veronica break up three times—three!—and each of those times, the breakup is precipitated by outside events, no one is happy to be breaking up, and both parties make a concerted effort to remain friends while neither ever actually quits caring about the other.

Regarding the toxic argument: no they are quite obviously a safe and non-toxic ship. (Although they do appear to present the occasional choking hazard for children under the age of 13 who cannot seem to swallow Varchie’s happiness).  

“Toxic” is, however, a term I refuse to unpack and dissect at the length it deserves right now because I’m so incredibly sick of the misconceptions Tumblr and the rest of the internet perpetuates regarding toxic/abusive relationships that my exhausted frustration with this subject alone can fill pages and it’ll drag me off topic. So instead, I’m just going to point out that while none of Riverdale’s main ships is toxic (everyone’s just young; there is an actual difference), Varchie is the ship with the fewest elements the internet typically likes to designate as such (antagonism/aggression toward each other, childish/petty behavior designed to get under the other’s skin, resentment/bitterness directed at the other person following a breakup, etc.), so the frequency with which this argument is thrown around is extra-laughable. 

Especially considering how demonstrably willing both Archie and Veronica are to overcome their unfamiliarity with each other’s world, share each other’s concerns, support each other’s interests, and essentially serve as each other’s partner because they both consider all those things fundamental parts of being in a relationship (which they are).

**IMPORTANT NOTE: if you struggle to discern the difference between:

(1)  a healthy real-life relationship (which, sorry to be the bearer of bad news, will in fact include arguments because people are people and no human being who possesses a mind of their own agrees with another human being all the time)

(2)  a toxic real-life relationship (which can include arguments but doesn’t have to)

(3)  healthy and toxic fictional relationships (which are entirely different beasts, particularly in book or TV series as plot requirements frequently dictate that characters react in ways that no actual person would, because the narrative needs conflict or drama to function and publishers/networks still over-rely on relationships to provide that conflict or drama)

then you probably will believe Varchie is toxic, and you definitely need to do some research that goes a little deeper than Wikipedia/that one post with a bunch of notes that was written by a person who came out of their first college psychology class feeling like Sigmund Freud. Toxic relationships are no joke, and it’s a little frightening to see how many people on the internet are so confused as to what constitutes one in reality that they frequently interpret normal, healthy relationships portrayed in fiction as toxic, and borderline-toxic relationships in fiction as healthy. (Also, it doesn’t help that people who, for whatever reason, feel the need to paint their dislike of a certain pairing in homilectic terms, are in the habit of taking scenes that check off a few of the “toxic relationship” boxes and twisting them out of context so that they can pretend there’s an element of moral superiority to their prejudice.)

But, important reminder! Fiction and real life are not the same thing, so if you want to measure fiction by reality’s standards, you have to apply liberal amounts of common sense to your assessments of the goings-on in a fictional world and recognize that many developments are necessitated by things like plot advancement, network executives, deadlines, and your basic this-actor-got-sick or that-actor-is-going-leave-soon randomness. Playing judge, jury, and executioner on the toxicity of TV relationships is, if possible, even more complex than just judging the toxicity of real-life relationships because by arbitrary unwritten law, TV relationships must include some onscreen friction. 

In fact, one of the first things you’re taught about writing fiction is that no one wants to read/watch/hear about the thing that almost happened, so don’t waste valuable narrative time portraying that—yes, everyone likes to joke about how they would love to watch a show where the kids went to class everyday and everything happened normally, but it’s a joke. It’s not true. No one who’s done with high school really wants to go back again and listen to an hour of boring lectures week after week, and no one who’s still in school wants to come home and watch a show that’s a repeat of their entire day. TV shows (or books, or movies) expect you to understand that each episode/scene/chapter/whatever is a story they’re telling you about the time something did happen, and that expectation also extends to fictional relationships. Just because you happen to witness a couple’s every fight/argument/disagreement onscreen does not mean you’re expected to conclude that “OMG, this couple is so toxic! All they ever do is fight!” 

No.

That would be like concluding the only holidays in the town of Riverdale are Christmas and Labor Day because we haven’t seen them have Halloween or New Year’s yet. You’re expected to put two and two together and assume they’ve celebrated those holidays that logically must have preceded and followed Christmas, just like you’re expected to grasp the underlying implication that after weeks/months of happiness and fun and peace, these two characters who love each other are now squabbling/experiencing tension over something important that they disagree on. Archie and Veronica are shown working together, being happy, enjoying one another’s company etc. multiple times before conflict ever arises between them, and them figuring out how to navigate through that conflict is intended as a facet of the story’s plot and a developmental point in their character arcs, not a red flag denoting an unhealthy relationship.

But anyways.

Back to the “they break up all the time” argument and why its fallaciousness is so obvious that it needs to be retired with all possible speed. (And as a bonus, also back to its close relatives “they break up for stupid reasons and get back together in five minutes.”

The “Shouldn’t-Be-Necessary-But-Apparently-Is”Quick Guide To Varchie Breakups:

Breakup #1: The end of episode 2x08

Duration of breakup: Almost one whole episode (that spans the course of at least a couple days)

What leads to breakup: Archie, the comfortable-with-feelings person, drops the L-word and desperately wants to hear it back. Veronica, the uncomfortable-with-feelings person, isn’t sure she can say it back and doesn’t want to go on acting like it’s not a big deal when she can see how important it is to Archie.

The outcome: Neither Archie nor Veronica’s actual feelings change at all from the time of the breakup to the time of the reunion. (No, not even when Betty kisses Archie.) Veronica just finally realizes that what she feels for Archie is love, so she goes to see him and tells him face-to-face. Archie is happy to get back together right then and there, and they resume where they left off.

 “Breakup” #2: The end of episode 3x06

Duration of “breakup”: three +/- episodes (end of 3x06-beginning of 3x10)

What leads to “breakup”: Archie believes Hiram’s vendetta against him endangers everyone close to him, not just him, and decides running away is his only option.

The outcome: Once again, neither Archie nor Veronica’s actual feelings change. They both attempt to move on/forget (Archie with Farm Girl Whose Name Escapes Me, Veronica with Reggie), but don’t exactly succeed as evidenced by Veronica’s anger, Archie’s remorse, and how quickly they want to get back together when he returns to town. 

NOTE: This is the one I sarcastically refer to as “the breakup” because it was over the phone (which, as everyone who’s ever utilized this dodge knows, is the easiest way to keep yourself from going back on a hard decision you don’t want to make. It should be obvious to those with functioning sensibilities that Archie does it that way because he knows if he goes the in-person route he’ll have to see Veronica cry and won’t be able to handle it). Besides that, Archie tells Veronica that he loves her and she was “it” for him from the day he met her, and it clearly kills both them to say goodbye. So again, as any viewer with common sense can see, it’s a breakup in name only—their heads are forced to accept what their hearts can’t, and everything they think is resolved is really only postponed.

 Breakup #3: The end(ish) of episode 3x10

Duration of breakup: ALMOST TWELVE WHOLE EFFING EPISODES (end of 3x10-middleish of 3x22). COUNT THEM.

What leads to breakup: Archie has in no way recovered from his rough experiences over the past months, and is behaving erratically. Veronica observes his out-of-character behavior with a lot of concern, and Reggie (whether accidentally or on purpose) fuels the idea that Archie is no longer Archie, so when Hiram ends up shot the day of the PSATs, Veronica knee-jerk reacts due to all the stress, worries that Archie might be responsible for it, and doesn’t contradict Archie when he asks if they’re done.

The outcome: Once again (surprise, surprise!) neither Archie nor Veronica’s feelings for one another change. They again try to move on/forget each other by dating other people (Josie and Reggie), but it doesn’t work. They remain close, continue to look to each other for comfort/support, and as soon as they’re faced with a life-or-death scenario, they throw caution to the wind and tell each other the truth (“I love you. I don’t think I ever stopped loving you”/“My heart ached for you. Because I felt the same way.”)

 To recap: what do these breakups have in common?

(1) Each breakup is due to a legitimate concern involving the other person, i.e., they are breakups for mature reasons, not breakups for “How dare you not text me back within five minutes” or “I’m a free range pony that can’t be tamed” reasons (with all due respect to Fat Amy)

(2) Neither Archie nor Veronica wanted to break up

(3) Both Archie and Veronica continued to love each other

When you’re young, the un-fun truth is that you frequently make really bad decisions in love. (You also do it sometimes when you’re older, too.) Archie and Veronica breaking up because they mistakenly perceive certain issues as insurmountable, trying to move on with other people and then going back to each other to make things right and reaffirm the love they couldn’t pretend away the instant the opportunity arises isn’t them being fickle, or toxic—it’s just them being young and clueless and trying to recover from young and clueless mistakes as maturely as possible. 

And believe it or not, their relationship has been handled very well by Riverdale. There are few other TV couples who’ve been as steady as A&V, and none of them are teen couples (in fact, the only ones that even come to mind out of all the shows I’ve ever seen are married and/or background couples, not main couples, because main characters’ relationships are always put through more drama). It is basically unheard of for a teen show’s protagonist and their primary love interest (who, incidentally, is also another main character) to only go through three breakups in three seasons. It is rarer still for each of those breakups to have a justifiable concern at its core, and rarest of all for the characters to take the mature and difficult let’s-be-friends approach rather than the easy and childish let’s-personally-attack-the-other approach. 

That is not a back-and-forth and/or toxic relationship. That is a fictional teenage relationship handled more maturely than many a fictional adult relationship, and that is good. 

Postscript to the rant: 

Veronica does not break up with Archie in 1x01, because they are not yet together. 

Veronica does not break up with Archie in 1x11, because they are not yet together. 

Archie does not break up with Veronica in 2x01; he’s telling her he wants her to leave because he’s upset and lashing out. 

Archie does not break up with Veronica in 3x01, he just tries to soldier-heading-off-to-war her because he loves her too much to want her to waste her time waiting on him and Veronica refuses to agree to it because she loves him too much to back out because the going looks like it might get tough. 

I don’t know why all of these scenes are forever being cited as breakup scenes, but they are, and it’s so bafflingly incorrect that it makes me shudder. They’re not breakup scenes. End of story.

#varchie #archie x veronica #riverdale opinion #rant #my opinion #my post #three times #they broke up three times #on a teen show #on the CW #do people seriously not get how unicorn-like a concept that is?

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Their Hero Academia – Chapter Forty: Answer the Call

Presenting the next raw and unedited chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!

Earlier chapters can be found here

Small computer monitors, built into the desks had popped up, along with keyboards, so that Class 1-A could review their Internship offers.   Everyone in the class had gotten at least two, though from how Aizawa had phrased it, Isamu guessed one of those came from someone’s parent.

And he had over thirty-five hundred.   Not quite as many as Midoriya, but way more than anyone else in the class.   How on Earth was he going to sort through them all? How would he know what the right choice was?  There. Were.  So.  Many.

He looked down at the offers, currently displaying Hero names, agency names, and rankings.  He recognized most of the names, though there were some he didn’t.   His eyes fell on one a few lines down from the top.  With a click, he opened it.

Turbo Hero: Ingenium – Number Six Hero – Team Ideaten

Mister Haimawari,

Congratulations on your victory during the Sports Festival! You demonstrated a remarkable level of speed and skill during the course of the Festival and acquitted yourself with honor.  As you may know, while we employ a variety of Quirks at Team Idaten, we focus primarily on mobility Quirks.   As such, I believe we would have much to offer you should you chose to intern with us.

Though he refuses to provide specifics, my elder brother, Tensei, had insisted that I extend you this offer.  I would have regardless, but it appears your name carries considerable cachet with him.

…Well then.  That was off to an encouraging start.  Dad spoke pretty highly of the former Ingenium. And the current one made the news pretty often as well.  There was no denying he was a great Hero, if a bit on the stuffy side.  It was a good offer and could probably teach him a few things about his Quirk.  But he had a lot of other offers to consider.

He scrolled up the list and opened the next one.

Blast-Radius Hero: Ground Zero – Number Four Hero – Ground Zero Agency

Congrats on beating Deku’s kid!   I don’t know why everybody’s talking about you, but ditch those losers and come intern with me instead!

Isamu blinked slowly. “So… that was a thing that happened,” he said quietly.  He opened the next one again, without looking to see who it was.

Shoto – Number Three Hero – Hot and Cold Agency

Haimawari:

My apologies, I never expressed my thanks for your attempts to aid my daughter during the first week of school.  You must know that she speaks very highly of you.  

Your performance during the Sports Festival was nothing short of incredible.  It’s quite obvious that have real potential and talent.  If you’ll allow me the opportunity, I would like to help further your growth and take you as my intern.  We face a wide variety of challenges at my agency, and I think it would be an excellent opportunity for you to broaden your skillset.

“No… freaking… way!” he said, this time louder than he expected.

“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” Kirishima-Bakugo growled, looking up from her screen.  “You’re still all wowed that you won.  Give it a rest, Newb.”

“I…  I got offers from Ingenium, Ground Zero, and Shoto,” he said.

That fixed her attention on him, then a laugh.  “Of course. Dad probably figured out Izzy’s dad was gonna send you one and didn’t want to be outdone.”

Mineta leaned over from her desk to look at his screen.  “I got one from Ingenium too!  Something about “a week of discipline and thoughtfulness,” blah blah blah.”   She pointed to his screen.  “Hey, you didn’t open the one from Deku yet.”

“Oh,” he said, “yeah, I guess I should check that one out.”

He looked back at his screen before realization hit.

Can Do Anything Hero: Deku – Number One Hero – Mighty Agency.

“…What.”

***

“…What.”

True, earlier, Principal Nezu had told her that a Pro Hero had expressed interest in taking her on as an Intern.  But that had also come in the midst of them talking about her potential future in the Hero Course and everything that had come with that.  And even once she’d allowed herself to entertain that option, she definitely hadn’t been expecting what she saw on the screen on the tablet All Might had handed her.

Can Do Anything Hero: Deku – Number One Hero – Mighty Agency.

Miss Kocho,

Wow!  You did an amazing job at the Sports Festival!  One of the best results for a General Education student ever!  You should be very proud of your Third Place victory!

I talked to All Might and he says that you got knocked out during the Entrance Exam?  Completely unfair!  It’s no wonder you were trying so hard!  I’m glad to see you never lost your fire!

As you may know, I work closely with Hitoshi Shinso, a former General Education student just like yourself, and an Underground Hero known as the Voice.  He was very interested in your performance during the Festival and in your story, and frankly, so was I.   While he doesn’t have the necessary credentials to take on an Intern, I do, and if he should just so happen to be around while I’m offering advice and tips to you and the other student I’ve extended an Internship offer to…  Well, these things happen.  

I checked the rules and there’s nothing preventing me from giving an offer to a student who’s not in the Hero Course, so I went ahead and put one in.  I’m hoping Nezu and the other teachers will let you!

P.S. I have so many questions about your Quirk!

Deku

“You,” Koharu began, “you’re going to let me accept this, right?”  She hesitated, then added, “Please.”  There was no way they would.  She wasn’t a Hero Course student.  She had no training, other than what she’d taught herself.  She’d sparred with friends, but prior to the Sports Festival had never really fought anyone.   She didn’t even have a costume!

Nezu smiled beatifically.   “Yes… and also no,” he said.  “Have you heard of the concept of a “ride along”, Miss Kocho?”

She shook her head. She could probably guess from context, but honesty here would be best.

The Principal continued. “You don’t have even the most rudimentary Heroics training, so placing you directly in an Internship would be inadvisable and potentially quite dangerous.  But we do believe it would be beneficial for you to accompany a Hero and see some of their action firsthand, as well as receive training from them. It should be quite useful in bridging the gap between where you are now and where you’ll need to be by the time Summer Break and the Training Camp come along.  So while you will be doing less than other Interns…  We see no harm to deny this request.

“Besides,” he added, “if the Number One Hero believes in you, who are we to deny such potential?”

***

Isamu stared at the top entry on the screen in front of him.  He had to be imagining it.  There was no possible way this was real, especially not with offers already from Ingenium, Ground Zero, Shoto, and countless others.

As though acting of its own volition, he clicked the message to open it.

Can Do Anything Hero: Deku – Number One Hero – Mighty Agency.

Haimawari,

Congratulations on your Sports Festival victory!   I remember what it felt like to win in my second year; I can’t imagine how great it must feel to have won in your first! But victory doesn’t necessarily prove anything, instead it’s having the heart of a Hero that truly matters, the willingness to Go Beyond and give it your all.

Based upon what I saw during the Festival and what Toshi has told me about you, I truly believe you have the heart of a Hero.  You’ve shown incredible skill and heroic instincts besides. A great man once told me that part of what makes a Hero is when your body moves on its own, responding to heroic instincts before your conscious mind even has a chance to consider your options.  

If you would like to be my Intern (and make a lot of bookies really, really mad), I’d be delighted to have you.

Deku

Still stunned, Isamu leaned back in his seat, numbly listening to the others discuss their own Internship offers.

“Who’d you get, Chi?” Mineta asked.   “Any hotties?”

“I haven’t even heard of some of these people,” Kaminari said. “I guess there’s Power Line…”

“Total hottie.  And an electric music hero!  Perfect for you!”

“He’s, like, fifty, Mika.”

“So he’s a silver fox.”

“…I’m getting you neutered for Christmas.   Besides, Aunt Momo scouted me too.  She says she’s got some ideas to help keep me from shocking my brains out.  So I’m gonna go with her.  You gonna go with Miser Iida?”

“Eh, maybe,” Mineta replied. “Highest ranked Hero on my list, anyway. He is pretty cut, for a dweeb with glasses…”

“He’s married, Mika.  His children are our classmates.  And you’re fifteen!”

“Just because an item’s not on the menu doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy looking at it!”

Isamu made a quick mental note not to go with Ingenium’s offer.  It probably would have been a beneficial Internship, but if it meant that close to Mineta for a week, he’d probably lose his mind.

***

“Oh, wow!  Oh, wow!  Oh, wow!”

With a small smile, Izumi looked to her left, where Shota looked so excited she feared he might leap from his chair and run about the room.   “Good news, Shota?” she asked.  “Promising Internship offers?”  

He’d gotten five, she recalled.  She was happy with her own offers; she had honestly gone into the Festival not expecting to get any at all, a fear she’d maintained after her fight with Katsumi. But perhaps she had not done so badly at all.

He gave her a big grin, purple eyes shining.  “Ground Zero sent me an offer!”

“I really gotta talk to Dad about his dropping standards,” Katsumi said from the back of the room, but Shota did not appear to have heard it.   Izumi would not repeat it.

Instead, she continued to smile.  “Good news indeed,” she said.  “Will your accept it?  Or are you considering any other offers?”

“Oh, I’ve got to take this one!” he bubbled.  “Ground Zero is the coolest!  He just blows all the Villains away and doesn’t take nothing from nobody!  He’s got a ninety-five percent capture rating and his fights are always so extreme! And there was the time he fought Blast Radius and he was all “You think your explosions are big, but mine are bigger and badder” and then…”

“Breathe, Shota,” Asuka said, sounding a bit tired of having to remind Shota to breathe instead of talking a kilometer a minute.

“What about you, Toshi?” Shota asked.  “You did so good!  And you got so many offers!  Was it your dad?  No, wait, Uncle Shota said they couldn’t do that, how about Izumi’s dad?  Or…”

Toshi laughed at that, making the little pink disks on his cheeks stand out all the more as his face flushed.  “Uncle Kacchan did send me an offer, actually.  Said “I can show you all the stuff your dad won’t!’”   Toshi laughed again.  “But I’m going with Uncle Mirio.  He sent me and offer and said he’d been planning this since my Quirk came in. And also that he’d be very sad if I didn’t say yes and I really just can’t deal with that.”

“And what about you, Asuka?” Izumi asked.

Asuka put a finger to the side of her beak.  “I have several compelling offers, Shota.  Several bird-themed Heroes, a few familiar-manifesting abilities as well.  Though I’m not sure which one to take right now. Aunt Toru has made a fairly compelling case for offering to teach me some options for stealth.”

“Your Quirks are rather different though,” Izumi said.  “Is that a good match?”

The bird-headed girl shrugged.  “One of many reasons why I’m mulling it over.  I suspect this is coordination on our parents’ part, but since I also have many other offers…”

“You should do what is best for you,” Izumi told her.  “I am certain she would understand.”

“Izumi’s right,” Toshi agreed.  “You’re got to be future-thinking here.”

Asuka nodded at that. “Many good options to consider. And not all that much time to do it in.”

“So who’d you get, Izumi?” Shota asked.  “Polar Claw? Burnin’?  The Maid of the Mist?  No, wait, what about Thriller-Chiller?  He’s so cool!  Or what about Smoking Hot?  Mineta says she really likes her, but I don’t get why…”

“All of them, actually,” Izumi replied.  Quite a few well-known Heroes with ice or fire Quirks had offered her an Internship, actually.  Not completely surprising.  Burnin’ had even been one of her grandfather’s sidekicks once upon a time. And yet there was one offer in particular that truly caught her attention.

The Stun Gun Hero: Charge Bolt – Number One Hundred Twenty Hero – GrapeBolt Agency

Izumi,

Hey, kid.  Great job! I didn’t get to see things first hand—stuff came up—but I did get to watch the tapes afterwards and boy was I impressed!  I bet your dad and Yaomomo are pretty proud of you!  I sure wish I could have been there to see Bakugo’s face when you beat Katsumi.

Anyway, I’m sure you’re going to get a lot more offers than from your old Uncle Denki.  Probably that Burnin’ lady or maybe one of those ice guys, I can never keep track of all of them.  But the one thing I do know?  I know what it’s like to have a Quick bounce back on you and I’ve gotten real good at figuring out how to avoid it.  I only shock my brain maybe once or twice a month now.

So what do you say?

***

“Who’d you get, bro?” Takuma asked.

Kenta shrugged.  He hadn’t even bothered opening his yet. Two Internship offers.  Some of the fewest in the class.  He hadn’t even been able to use his Quirk during the Quirkball stage of the Festival.  And it’s not like he’d have been able to take a bite out of any of his classmates, even if he’d made it to the Tournament round.  

His Quirk was a strange mutation from different parts of his bloodline.  His grandmother on his dad’s side’s Quirk to bite through anything, his mom’s Quirk to absorb other materials into herself, and his dad’s power to eat sugar for strength without any other harmful effects had all gifted him with the ability to bite through and eat anything.   It was fantastic for web-content, great against robots in training, even great for a quick escape from cuffs.  But not exactly the kind of flashy Festival stuff most of his classmates had.

“Hey, relax, bro,” Takuma said.  “Don’t go getting all sad on me.  Open up your offers!  Nobody gets to be depressed when I’m around.  Don’t feel bad just because two is less than seven!”

In spite of himself, Kenta smiled.  Takuma was a good friend.  He looked over his offers.  One from someone named Teppanyaki that he’d never even heard of (his tagline was The Tappan Hero) and… Suneater?

“The hell?” he said out loud.

Takuma leaned over to look at his screen.  “Dude! Suneater?  Nice!”

“Probably just because all our parents were talking to each other,” Kenta said.

“Dude.  He’s a Top Ten Hero.  All the friendship in the world isn’t going to get him to stake his reputation on nothing.”

Kenta frowned. “Maybe.  Beats the alternative, I guess.  Get anything good on your end?”

“Kamui Woods,” Takuma said. “Dad did his Internship with him, learned a lot.  But he’s getting up there in years.  Probably going to retire in a few.  Tsukuyomi too, though.  Which, I mean, he’s got aesthetic coming out his ears, but I don’t know if I can pull off dark and brooding.”  

He put a fist under his chin and squinted his eyes.  “Darkness,” he said in a growly voice.  “Moonlight. Shadows.   Revelry in the dark.”  

At that, Kenta couldn’t help but laugh.   “I sweat, I will give you five hundred yen if you manage to get a shot of you doing that with him in the background.”

“You think I won’t?”

Meanwhile, the Twins were engaged in discussion of their own.

“Do you think you can find a satisfactory Internship, Little Brother?” Sora Iida asked.

“Perhaps,” Tensei Iida replied.  “Turbo-Force and Veloci-Queen are respectable high speed Heroes, and the Futurian is extremely well regarded in the fields of action-science.  The offer from Tentacole is somewhat more curious though, as I am not certain we have much in common.”

“I have a similarly strange offer from Tailman,” Sora replied.  “And other offers to consider as well.  Rocket Ranger and Fastlane would certainly be useful in refining my speed, though it is a shame there are so few actual flying Heroes for either of us to choose from.”

“Indeed.  That does make the decision more complicated.  It will do neither of us any good if we can so easily outpace our mentors…”

***

“Cellophane? Really?  That is the highest ranked offer I received?  Qu'est-ce que c'est?”

Kimiko looked to her left, where Aoyama was boggling at the screen in front of him.  “What’s wrong with Cellophane?” she asked.  “Uncle Hanta’s nice!”

“Nice he may be,” Aoyama said, turning to look at her.  “But he lacks a certain je ne sais quoi.”

“Could you please speak Japanese?” she whined.  Her gossip buddy he may have been, but all the time he spent speaking in freaking French really grated on her.  “I don’t even know what that means!”

“I don’t know what,” he said.

“Why would you say something if you don’t know what it means!”

“Non, no…  It means, “I don’t know what.”  He is lacking in… something.  Something I cannot put into words.”

Kimiko crossed her arms. “Well, now you’re just being mean.”

Aoyama shrugged.  “These are the facts, I cannot help them.  But still, he may well be my best bet for raising my profile…”

Yeah, she was bored with talking to him now.  She leaned back to look around him.  “Koda! Shoji!  Anything good?”

Koda turned to regard her. “Mrs. Tokoyami has extended me an offer to join her in protecting the waters for a week.  The Safari Samurai has also been gracious enough to give me an offer of internship, though I confess my parents do not speak very highly of him.  He drapes himself in the trappings of the jungle, while having no special love for it. So I am inclined to go with the more familiar.”

“Aw, Auntie Tsu’s great!” Kimiko bubbled.  “You’ll have a fun time!  …You can swim, right? No offense.”

Koda laughed at that. “None taken, Ojiro.  And yes, I can swim.  I am surprisingly buoyant.”

Shoji’s soft but handsome (Seriously, he had to be the best looking guy in the class.  Voted on by all the girls and Takuma.) features stayed largely neutral, but she saw a small smile tug at his lips.  “Real Steel is my most promising offer,” he said, and she was hoping he would say more, just so she could listen to his baritone voice.  “Power-Punch and Extendar for my other offers.”

“You’re going to go with Real Steel, right?” she asked.  She checked her phone for a moment.  “There’s, like, one video each of those other guys on HeroWatch.   Go where the action is!”

“Most likely,” he said.

“And whose attention did you catch, Ojiro?” Koda asked.  “You garnered a fairly impressive number of offers with your performance.”

“Oh, well,” she rubbed the back of her head.  “I kind of had this figured out beforehand.  Doc Clock—Doctor Izumi—she wanted to take me around with her anyway, ‘cause of the medic training thing…  But I did look at the offers.”

She looked down, then back up.  “Lots of offers from Underground and stealthy-types.  Which would be great... but that’s not who I want to be anymore.   Just because I’m invisible doesn’t mean I have to be defined by that.  I want to help people.”

Koda gave her a small nod. “Knowing yourself and what you want is often the first step to success.”

***

At the front of the room, Aizawa gave Midnight a look.  “How much more time do you think they’ll waste?”

“Admit it,” she said, “you’re proud of them.  They garnered a lot of attention.  Takes you back, doesn’t it?”

“Hn,” he grunted.  But she was right.  He was proud of them, even Mineta.  They’d worked together and worked hard.  There wasn’t a one of them he didn’t believe it.   Certainly, there were rough edges to sand down… Kirishima-Bakugo’s anger, Aoyama’s arrogance, Haimawari’s lack of confidence, his godson’s extroversion, and other things, but that wasn’t anything he and their other teachers couldn’t help mold.

“They’re talking with Kocho too,” Midnight told him.  “Nezu’s ninety-nine percent certain she’ll want to make the jump to the Hero Course. He did some personality evaluations and thinks she’ll be best in your class.  As long as you don’t think you’re getting to old for a bigger class.”  She elbowed him in the side.

“We’re almost the same age.”

“Yes, but I’m in administration now.   There’s a reason most of our friends retired.  Not an old person’s game, Eraser.  Even if the young persons are so… yummy.”

“Hn.”

“Speaking of our friends, do you and Emi want to join Mic and me for drinks this weekend?”

He gave her a look which suggested he’d rather be set on fire.  “Generic excuse.”

“You did not just say “generic excuse!’”

“I said what I said.”

Midnight just shook her head and smiled.  “I texted her before I got here and Emi already agreed to it.  You’re going.”

“Betrayed again.”

“Think of it this way, Eraser.  The internships haven’t been exciting since their parents were here.  They’ll work hard, but for us, it’ll be a week to relax…”

#my hero academia #their hero academia #fan fic #fan fiction #my writing #shouta aizawa #toshi midoriya #izumi todoroki #isamu haimawari #katsumi kirishima-bakugo

[claveriaspostsblog]

BIOGRAPHY

“IF YOU PURSUE, THEN YOU WILL REACH YOUR DREAMS”

Leonard Quemado Claveria, was born in Igbical Hamtic Antique. He had a award in the college as the member of International Agriculture exchange Association in Japan. After he graduated in college he goes to Japan to work. He working in the piggery. He almost two years in Japan. After two years he go home to antique, for a few months he goes to manila and looked for a job because there was nothing in the province.

Then after one year he going home to antique because he couldn’t do his job. He help to his father in the farm, sometimes he planted the vegetables in their field. He returned to manila and find the jobs. He work in the Mall of Asia as a sales boy in the cellphone. After five years he thought of doing a business here in Cavite because he was tired of looking a job and he wanted to rest. He started a business in 2018. Since his small business has gradually grown in his effort and perseverance because of his diligence, he bought two cars and now he had a two stores.

And also he bought a land in alapan and vista verde. Every December they also have a Christmas party and he gave them a money as a bunos in his staff at store. He was so kind person, he treated his staff for their birthday and he celebrated the party in his house. Leonard's work has provided his extensive exposure and experiences in agriculture and he developed in Japan. He doing work enjoy because for his it’s give a energy. He said when he woke up with new ideas everyday and with solutions to conquer the challenges that cropped up the day before.

TRAVELOGUE IN PALAYA NATURAL FARM

Our recent trip to Tanay Rizal at PALAYA NATURAL FARM, we spent a good three

days. PALAYA NATURAL FARM is about three (3) hours drive from Cavite to Tanay Rizal.

The drive was okay, but you'll have about 30 minutes of rough roads when you're near the

farm. We just went a long with the shaking of the car, and we laugh. Be warned that in

the PALAYA NATURAL FARM there is absolutely no phone or internet signal. That's why if

you're waiting for an important message or call it'll have to wait until you're back in

Cavite. And we're here. When we enter we saw the PALAYA NATURAL FARM has

plantations of vegetables, fruits, and herbs. You are immediately greeted with greenery

and fresh air.

There been impressed with this tall and fat tree with the swing. I think this is the first

time that I saw an actual Calamansi plant. The son of my uncle he became so curious

with the fruits, and vegetables growing all around. There is always something so relaxing

when you see a walking lined up with greens.

PALAYA NATURAL FARM main produce are dragon fruits. I showed how they have

cement blocks for the dragon fruit trees. The blocks are cut and are used like, so. This is

actually my first time to see a dragon fruits plantation. PALAYA NATURAL FARM doesn't

just grow produce. You could even book a night here for that your nature experience and

you can take pictures for your memorable places in this PALAYA NATURAL FARM. Rates

for the wooden huts and tents are very affordable. They had no air-conditioning needed. If

nipa huts are not your thing. You could go for the tents. The only drawback is that they

only here one restroom for all the guests. Hopefully in the future, they could install more.

There was another large tree that gives a nice shade with Its towering branches. The

tents and hunts still work even if it was sunny.

PALAYA NATURAL FARM had a cool breeze. There as a running stream behind the

mountains where you could swim or just made around. If you wish to take a bath in the

batis, don't worry the water is clean, and they made a make shift pool using rocks as

divider. I'm not sure through how “swimmable” the batis would be through if there are

more people of about 10 or 20. For lunch, we had the option of dining by the stream but

since there was a buffet. My uncle choose to go to PALAYA NATURAL FARM mess hall,

because many people had already purchased their goods. Still, we had fresh fruits and

meats to buy at a very cheap prices. We are certainly had a unique and enjoyable.

EDUCATION

Having a high-quality education is the basis for changing a society's trend toward a prosperous economy. Higher education is not just based on books or things learned in our schools. Although, among these key elements to having a good education, practical education based in our daily life to be still necessary. Education is strong if it is combined with the knowledge of formal studies in certain subjects and matters of life, and how to live well. Education is the way to a successful future for a nation. Without it, and if the citizens of a society do not have a solid and solid foundation of education, it will be difficult for them to achieve development.

It is only necessary to understand that education will lead them to their aspirations. The primary purpose of education is to have knowledge of things and information now, in the future, and in the future. It is mechanism by which one's thoughts, feelings, and interactions are formed. It is also the source of good and good events in our world and the changing environment. Education is necessary for our youth because it will be their weapon in the life of their future. Their youth is the state in which they direct their thoughts and feelings to the things they need in their old age.

Education is important because it enables a person to gain insights into his or her life, personality and community. It is shape of thoughts into a successful world that everyone needs to fully take advantage of the world and realize its goals. Young people should only get adequate education through their experience and formal programs available in schools. It will be their weapon, so, they can deal with things that will be their future. And since they are our hope, it is only righting that we give them all the education they need so that they can reach the dreams they want to achieve.

PERSONAL NARRATIVE

“Simple birthday is the one more year has been successfully completed”

We all know that birthday is one of the happiest events of our lives. One person's birthday is held once a year. This is the best gift the Lord has given us. And for our young people, these are the happiest and most troubling events in our lives. There is a meal, a song, a dance and a drink that the

young people are celebrating their birthday with. This day is my 18th birthday so I wake up early and went to church by myself. When I got home the door and windows were locked. When I opened the door, I was surprised at the surprise of my friend and classmates that it was a day, I will never forget in my life. I cried for their surprise at me and I'm very happy with what they did to surprise me. My parents also enjoyed what my classmates did. After we all eat, my were watching and Arvie song happy birthday for me. My cousins ​​then stood up to give me his gift to. As I accepted their gifts, my friend she had prepared a message for me. As she walked over to me and spoke her message to me I was moved to tear because of the two of us.

When she handed me his gift she told me to open it, so, I opened it. Before my birthday I thank my classmates and especially my friends who made me so happy. Before my classmates came home, I gave them even a small dish and so on, so that they could have something to eat for their brother or father. My friend brought her home because we were still singing. Before she came home I also brought him food,and we took him with me to their house. Before the day ended, I told my parents how unexpected things were and how grateful I was for the time, money and effort that they’ve spent for my birthday. I had no idea that it would be one of the most memorable moments in my life and how simple yet eventful it is. If someone looks through it, the celebration would be normal, simple, and nothing special; but, for me, it would be something that I will be always thankful for and a moment that I would acknowledge God’s grace through our family.

REACTION TO A PERSONAL NARRATIVE

My reaction to Vanissa Iligan Personal Narrative are; It was a typical essay that a student will make. But because it is personal and it was by the first person point of view it was easy to interpret and can easily understand by the readers. Also it can be that entertaining as it came from personal experiences, that the first person shared to all the readers. The emotions and feelings as easily interpreted because we can understand the essay easily as the writer wrote each words specifically so we the readers can’t have a hard time to understand the information inside of the body of essay. Since Personal narrative also narrates us the personal experience of the writer we can also somehow indentify what kind of person the writer is as he or she describe or write down the way how he or she deal in that particular encounter of her personal narrative.

Lets moved on now in the whole paragraph and what is written on it. The paragraph are well arranged. The writer used of grammar are all correct she have no misspelled words and she write the information detailed by detailed. Also I can understand easily the whole context and I never get bored while reading it maybe because the writer wrote it really well and I can understand each sentenced clearly. Also the emotions showed in the essay is easy to interprets and I can feel those emotions too each sentence. All in all the Personal Narrative really conveys the information well and we can understand it easily and we can also feel what kind of emotions that the writer has upon constructing their personal essay.

AUTOBIOGRAPHY

“WHO AM I”

My name is Flordeliza Claveria Oliveros. I was born in Bongbongan Hamtic Antique. I started school when I was six year old. When I am grade two I stopped studying for two months because I took care of my sister daughter. In the morning she brought on me in the house of her husband in Bugasong Antique. After two months I go home to continue my studies. As I entered our room I was ashamed because I had not been to school for so long. After my class my teacher talked to me because of my absentism. I told him why I hadn’t been to school for so long. When I was in high school I see the hard work of my parents for our needs in school. What I do after my class I helped to water the vegetables in the field, so my parents are taking up our needs for projects in school and etc.

When I was in grade eight my sister Corazon is a very sweet and kind, she would do anything for me. But my younger sister Cristine and me fight like cat and dog. Sometimes when no one was around, Corazon would come up to me and she would bite my toes for no reason. I still love her but only because she is my sister. When I’m grade nine I decided to joining as a part of children of mary (COM) in our church. Every sunday I attend the mass and after that I went to the grotto of Mama Mary and prayed. During the children of mary (COM) had a activity in church I join and participate.

When I was in grade ten my brother entered the seminary because of financial constraints. When my brother seminarian come home and he asked for his allowance to my mother. My mother have no money that day, so my mother do was borrowed the money of my auntie for the allowance of my brother. A few weeks my mother talked to me to stop studying because my father couldn’t work because he was older and he want rest. In evening I thought of what my mother said. In the morning I heard to my auntie my cousin had come home from Manila and he was looking for a cashier in his store. I thought of him I want to work for my family. In two days later my cousin said he want to work in his store. So I stop for one year because lack of financial. Until now I still working to my cousin store, as a working student because I want to finish my studies.

CRITIQUE MOVIE

This movie “Coach Carter” was from 2005 by Paramount pictures and it is directed by Thomas Carter. It was based on a true story, in which he was a head basketball coach of Richmond High School, California, Ken Carter made the headlines in 1999 for benching 15 players of his undefeated team due to a very bad academic performances. This action is known as the lockout, but this kind of action was very criticised by the Richmond High School, the players’ parents, the city, and media commentators. Ken Carter was maintained that his athletes must take their studies a seriously, so they could get an access to college and other opportunities later on thier life and the community opinions eventually was changed when they're started to see his reason, and after that he was praised for his determined emphasis on prioritising these good values for his players.

As much dismayed by the poor attitudes of his players as well as their have a very bad performances on the court, Carter sets about to changed both. He was an immediately imposes a strict regime typified in written contracts that he was included stipulations for respectful behavior, a dress code and good grades as requisites to being allowed to participated. These initial resistance from the boys is a soonest dispelled as the team under Carter’s tutelage becomes a undefeated competitor in the games. However, when the overconfident team’s behavior begins to stray and Carter learns that too many of players are doing poorly in their class, he was takes immediate in action. Carter was cancels all the team activities and he was locked the court until the team shows acceptable academics improvements. Carter was fights to keeping his methods, to determined to show the boys that they're need to rely on more than sports for their futures.

You should not only see this kind movie because of the basketball, that is just a bonus you get, but you should see this film if you like to see this films about people who make a differences. Ken Carter was makes a difference to some of a poor players without hope in their lifes. The team was starts out whit no hope or dream about getting in to college and the team was got no unity. All these things was plus many more are Ken Carter trying to change. So if you like to see youngsters with a poor life getting a new chance in life, you should differently see this movie. This movie was could sound kind of boring, but its actually not. This movie has a many lot of moving moments and inspirational speeches and scenes. It's not only moving moments, there are also an action in it, on the basketball court, but also in their life.

FACIAL RECOGNITION

MY SORROW ACCOMPLICE

Joshua Oliveros. He is my cousin, he is loving, kind, helpful, hardworking, considerate and above all godly. I remember him whenever I was sad because he was always the first to approach me when I had a problem. He was my friend because when I was sad and when I had a problem, he first approached me so what he was doing to me was going to make me happy until my problems disappeared. He was a simple man and preferred simplicity and above all, from his clothes, food, etc. His simplicity.

He does not like things that are complicated or confusing. He was honest. He always maintained her family's trust in his and the people connected with him. He is an emotional person and sometimes he thinks too much about the little things in his life or the lives of his loved one. He doesn't talk very much unless there is something special to one or close to him. He is a pragmatic person, and he believes in right actions. He is a philosophical man and sometimes he wants to counsel people when they do something wrong. He loves to travel to new places, and feel different cultures. He is a family man. Family was the most important part of his life, and it came Foremost. His favorite shows are movies and TV series. She wants to hang out with her friends. He was a positive person, but he looked on both sides positively and negatively because you never knew what was coming.

REFLECTIVE ESSAY

MY SENIOR HIGH SCHOOL JOURNEY

As a Senior High student, it wasn't easy for me. Lots of trials came, there was the right to give up because I was struggling. Because of this I am content with myself, I fight for the beauty of my future. And giving up on this I never did, I continued my life as a student, even though it was very difficult for me to make and succeed. Since I surrender I know I have no purpose in life.

Now that I am a Senior High, I hope my family can finish school and someday find a good job as I relive the hardships and perseverance of my family's experience knowing that I can only afford to spend time with them. What a great day to go to school. Life indeed is not that easy. The moment we get out and face the real world, we need to be strong and determined to be able to survive. There would be a lot of challenges that we never get to understand yet until we get to experience it ourselves. So, I am really grateful enough that I was able to gain all the knowledge and strength during my senior year and finally decided the path that I want to take in college.

TESTIMONIO

CHANCE TO CHANGE

A lot of people change, chill, on and off in worship, sometimes we can't avoid that, because we're just human, we make mistakes, we're not all perfect, like me, I'm Florence Oliveros actually I'm not active in the church. this is about my faith in lord, I know I am superficial because I just barely managed to keep up with god, so yeah, as a youth I can't avoid being in love, hurt and broken heart, poor for me to go to church that time, because it was so heartbreaking for me to have an ex boyfriend who is my churchmate then my best friend who is still my rival. I also don't know why we broke up, maybe it's my fault because I have a bad attitude, every time I see them talking, together, laughing, when they're happy I'm sad, I can't explain how they feel, sometimes I just want to get away , so I don't see them that way, yes it hurts but I have just thinking about broken love life, you are going to dramatize that is wrong, and that should not be my prayer then, one time I decided not to go to church because I would see them, I would only feel sad, about a month ago I went crazy and didn't go to church, for no good reason I'm laughing right now, since they came to my house saying hello, asking why I didn't go to church, my answer was "Do not know" that came to my mind. I didn't explain it until they asked me in person, but it was a joke that I probably didn't care because I was jealous.

No choice, I miss the sermon because sometimes I see them, I don’t know the topic, sometimes I just pray, ask why I feel like this? So my younger sister Flordeliza explained that they were just friends and they were close to me, boy was just helping us get back together, and more explanation. So I was enlightened, there was even a cry, because they had missed me in serving GOD, and my music ministry seems to have neglected me, so I kept thinking about what they said if I stayed focus in a man who once loved me and lost me, I will lose to the LORD, for it is said that the LORD'S only love is changing and that I have forgotten, that there is still love for me and that they are many. So I asked if there was still a chance to change my perspective and return to my ministry, and their answer to every body needs a CHANCE TO CHANGE, and to give my ex back, actually I should give it to him. because I had a lot of bad thoughts about her so I did. I prayed that my anguish would be gone because of that past, all was well and thanks to the LORD, for I suspect that he had corrected me.

DEFINITION ESSAY

I am Flordeliza Claveria Oliveros and I am a person of many personalities, traits, and identities. Many ways, that I recognize myself, in fact, are the ways to bestow who I am. My Identity is just something I can fully give. My little brother, who is so kind to me is the only one who understands me every time I have a problem or not when I'm sad he wants me to be happy. My parents, will do everything for their children. I was humanities and social sciences because I wanted to be a teacher someday. I can say that I am a responsible person and a hard working student.

I have a friends because I like to communicate with other people and get to know new interesting individuals. I enjoying my time at school because it is really nice to study, with your friends and they ready to help you when you didn't know the assignment or project. I'm a enthusiastic person and I think this is a strong point of mine. My friend saying that I'm a very funny and a good friend. As soonest as I meet a new people who are happy to meet me, I feel comfortable with them. I believe that friendship is the most important values in our life. We can exchanged a new ideas, find a many interesting things about each other and a experience in a new things. I appreciated friendship and people who surround me.

To meet a new people who support all my efforts to grow up and develop my skills not only in the subjects but also in my hobbies gives me a lot of energy. Many of those friends who surround me now I meet a guy on the street while doing my hobby. I’m was inlove with photographer guy , so the thing I love doing so much became even more enjoying. I was decided to take beautiful pictures of accidental people and share these photos with them through Facebook. I feel the happiness inside seeing how they are happy to looking at the pictures where they are walking or sitting somewhere in the park. In this way, Monica became my best friend and we both believe that we meant to meet because she studies the same classes and we have similar life goals.

Self Obituary

Flordeliza Claveria Oliveros, was 19th year’s old. The seventh daughter of Ma. Cora C. Oliveros and Nelson B. Oliveros. She was born in Bongbongan Hamtic Antique. She started school when she was six year old. When she was in grade two she stopped studying for two months because she was took care of my sister daughter. In the morning her sister was brought on her in Bugasong Antique. After two months she go home to continue her studies. As she entered in their room she was ashamed because she had not been to school for so long. After her class, her teacher talked to her because of her absentism. She told him why she hadn’t been to school for so long. When she was in high school she, see the hard work of her parents for their needs in school. What she do after her class she helped to water the vegetables in their field, so her parents are taking up their needs for projects in school and etc.

When she was in grade eight her sister Corazon is a very sweet and kind, she would do anything for her. But her younger sister Cristine and her was fight like cat and dog. Sometimes when no one was around, Corazon would come up to her and she would bite her toes for no reason. She still love her sister but only because she is her sister. When she was in grade nine she was decided to joining as a part of children of mary (COM) in their church. Every sunday she was attend the mass and after that she went to the grotto of Mama Mary and prayed. During the children of mary (COM) had a activity in church she was joining and participating.

When she was in grade ten her brother was entered the seminary because of financial constraints. When her brother seminarian come home and he asked for his allowance to her mother. Her mother have no money that day, so her mother will do was borrowed the money of her auntie for the allowance of her brother. A few weeks her mother talked to her to stop studying because her father couldn’t work because he was older and he want rest. In evening she thought of what her mother said. In the morning she heard to her auntie, her cousin had come home from Manila and he was looking for a cashier in his store. She thought of him she want to work for her family. In two days later her cousin said he want to work in his store. So she was stop for one year because lack of financial. Until now she still working to her cousin store, as a working student because she want to finish my studies. She will become a teacher someday.

[get-a-new-lease-on-life]

A New Lease on Life - #59

         WELL. It's been about a donkey's age since I've been able to update this. Normally I'd apologize for the wait…but…well, honestly, I've been beating myself up enough as it is and it's not like it happened out of the blue. Kinda-brief update for anyone wondering:            I've warned about an impending grief hiatus since my uncle Bob's cancer diagnosis, and the hiatus came to pass in December. Uncle Bob finally lost his fight to cancer after two years of treatment and fading. The end came on rather suddenly but after the deathwatch he went peacefully and without pain. His death really messed me up, especially since I was already suffering from depression. Our first Christmas without Bob was also our last Christmas with Granny Chance, his mother and my grandmother…she suffered a massive stroke in January and died soon afterward. In the space of a month, my family and I lost two members, one right after the other. In a word, the whole situation has been FUCKED and it's still not completely over. There are good days, and bad days…and, to quote a certain Del Toro film, "Then there are the really bad days." Between those, we're all slowly working our way through the fallout and healing process.            This chapter is the first I've been able to finish since SEPTEMBER, largely because all of my stories are currently in plot-required angsty-dramatic phases and I CANNOT WRITE SAD SCENES when I'm depressed. It's entirely IMPOSSIBLE, they always come out farcical or they just don't flow. It SUCKS. TBH, I don't know for certain if I'm going to be able to catch up to my previous writing abilities or pace anytime soon but I'm certainly going to try. Also, quick note if you're reading this on Tumblr – they recently enacted a WORDBLOCK LIMIT on text posts of 100 blocks. Yeah. We're now limited to 100 paragraphs including the title. If the chapter's low dialogue and has no notes, that's fine, but if not? Well, we're just screwed because THIS ONE ran 86 ¶s WITHOUT the notes, glossary, and pre-story stuffs. I'm not sure yet how I'll be handling that limit for good, whether that means posting links to sites without the bullshit limits, posting long chapters in pieces, or linking to the separate posts with the notes and glossary, but I'll figure it out in time. For now, I’ll be including the NOTES at the end and you can find the GLOSSARY at FFnet or AO3.  Check out Spotify for a playlist centered on this arc - features suggested listening for this chapter and the next few, and much, much more.         Lastly, I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone for their patience and understanding, and give a shout-out to some wonderful people who've made this new chapter possible. This chapter is dedicated to Wolf, Newt, and Ihlni for their invaluable support and kind words – to my hubby Cold for letting me ugly-cry on him without complaint and never failing to remind me that life has to go on – to my ma-in-law for teasing me about earning a nasty hangover instead of acknowledging that I looked like death-on-the-rocks and was obviously crying before I answered the door – to my mother for being a bloody SAINT and to my father for intentionally being an asshole when someone to fight with was just what I needed – to Wanda Farmer on AO3 and vbt22220 on FFnet for their encouragement in reviews, the folks on Tumblr who offered kind words when I needed them most, and to all you wonderful people who've stuck by me, read my stories, and are still reading after all this time. Above all, though, this chapter is dedicated to the memory of Granny Chance and Uncle Bob – may they ever rest in peace.

Suggested Listening: Fuel "Hemorrhage [In My Hands]," Paramore "The Only Exception," Prince "Purple Rain," Survivor "I Never Stopped Loving You" 

 59: A Matter of Honor

The Lair, November 19th - around noon

Donatello wasn't known for being a fool; regardless, he felt rather foolish anytime the obvious failed to register until it was staring him in the face. This was just such a time. He didn't recall sequestering himself in the lab much less falling asleep at his workbench, but the proof was self-evident: a crick in his neck, a strand of insulated wire still stuck to his drool-sticky cheek, and sweat-smeared glasses half off his face. It took a moment of tired lip-smacking and searching to comprehend the facts—ah, right, he pulled an all-nighter to complete the vital signs monitor for Kimber's visit. From what he could see, the device was, indeed, completed. Too tired to consider the absurd picture he must make, he peeled the wire trimming off his cheek and set it aside.

What woke him? He searched his memory, found nothing, then turned to more closely examine his surroundings. A plate of now-cold PopTarts and a cup of coffee (helpfully covered with a cracked saucer) waited a safe distance from his elbow. Right - it was Saturday. This time last year he easily lost track of the days between all-nighters and the sleeping-binges that always followed them. Now he had a weekly reminder in the form of too-sweet coffee and half-burned pastries, courtesy of the confusing woman whose scent still clung to his skin. How blessed he felt in this moment…

The moment ended with a familiar sound—a sleep-slurred phrase he could recognize anywhere but never quite understood. Ya been away too long he got, and he recognized the terms sook, e'en, and nip though he wasn't fully certain of their context.* Beyond that the half-Celt tucked into the cot may as well have been speaking Greek for all he knew. The oft-repeated tease fell short in a particularly nasal snore. Donnie hoisted himself out of his chair with a chorus of protesting joints and slowly rounded the workbench. Silently, he regarded his sleeping woman, soaking in all the silly little details that caught his eyes—the freckles spattered across her skin, the flash of faded ink peeking up over her drooping neckline, the stubborn silver cowlicks sticking up at odd angles from her loosely bound hair—anything to remind himself she was still alive.

He shook his head in weary defeat. A full week after their desperate flight from Willsdale and every time he woke he still half-expected to find Amber cold to the touch, lifeless and painted in blood. Perhaps, he considered as he gathered her in his arms and made his way to their bedroom, this was one scar which would only be healed with time. Perhaps, he considered as he lay her across the neatly tucked quilt and curled up behind her, he could only conquer his fear of Amber's death by focusing on her life. Even as he tugged her flush against his plastron and groin and nuzzled into her neck, he couldn't erase the memory of her: bruised, bloody, and broken, and rapidly fading in his arms. He shuddered and sucked in a steadying breath of her scent.

She wasn't dead, she was alive now…it was enough…right?

Red Fern Florist, Noon

Normally, Red Fern Florist was a calm place – a quiet and classy establishment that just so happened to be run by people who didn't care about being quiet or classy. This, alas, was not a normal day, not even in the slightest.

Abilene Whitaker manned the register, eyes focused somewhere beyond the neon-streaked pages of her textbook and not registering a word. The backroom echoed with near-constant racket—crashes, curses, objects falling or being thrown… Abby sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose, and dragged herself off of the barstool to investigate. Sure enough, Mercy was stocking the shelves a tad too roughly…if by roughly one meant throwing the bags of supplies around like a spandex-clad steroid junkie at a WWE grudge-match smackdown.

"Alright, that's enough," Abby snapped at her blonde subordinate; Mercy froze, embarrassed grey-blue eyes meeting Abby's over a lean, hunched shoulder. "You've been stomping around and slamming things all afternoon. What on earth could be so horrible you've gotta torture the mulch?" Mercy cringed, fixing guilty eyes on the bag of mulch in her grip. Caught. "Well?" The blonde uttered a sound halfway between a groan and a growl, snorted, then slid the bag onto its shelf with more care than necessary.

"My man's ex is comin' by tonight," she admitted under her breath. "She's stayin' a few days."~

"WHAT?!" Abby squawked in protest. "He's bringing his ex over?! Aw, Hell naw! Girl, you drop that boy before I find him and punch him in the man-fritters!" Man-fritters?** Mercy couldn't help it – she sniggered at the visual – but her laughter faded into regret when she registered the rest of Abby's threat.

"No can do," she sighed, "it's kinda unavoidable." Abby crossed her arms, scrunched her lips into an almost exact replica of Leo's 'pissy leader pout,' and waited for an explanation. Mercy rolled her eyes, spearing her fingers into her hair and yanking. "Kimber…well, she's like me an' Amber," she explained under her breath. "Remember I told ya Amber…uh…went home for a few days? Well, she almost…um…didn't come back. Bitch-nipple's comin' over to see how long any of us can stay home without that happening. She invited herself, we voted, Raph lost, she won." Abby took a moment to let that sink in.

"Your guy tried to vote her off the island?" A grim nod from Mercy. "They broke up before she left, right?"

"…and she left before he an' I met," Mercy added even as she rolled her eyes.~ All the code-talk really got on her nerves but they had to be mindful of the security cameras. Abby leaned against the doorframe, lean shoulders at a sharp slant, and hazel eyes puzzled behind her fuchsia-streaked hair.

"You think she wants him back?" she asked quietly. "He won't…" She sucked in a nervous breath. "What if she tries to win him back?"

"You're kiddin', right?" Mercy scoffed. "He dumped her! He's been angsty as fuck over breakin' her heart, yeah, but I know'im—she could make all the moves she wants, he ain't gonna budge."~ Not to mention Kimber's still dead she added in her own head then shook it. After all, she was dead, too. The whole situation stank like a crappy soap opera. "I trust'im, Abbs," she added under her breath. "Raph chose me, not the Jersey-Devil-wannabe…jealousy's pointless when I already know the end result, an' that end result is he's with me."

Abby watched her a moment, scrutinizing and studying; just as suddenly as she issued the threat against Raph's genitals, she smiled. "You're a strong woman," the neon-haired clerk remarked lightly. "I ever heard one of Cherie's exes asking to stay, I'd bash the twat's teeth in. You need anything, you give me a call, alright?" Mercy nodded, halfway between a cringe and a grateful smile, and went back to the stocking. "So how are things going between you two, anyway?" Abby added taking up her share of the lifting. "You never bring him by, you never tell me much about him…how's he treating you?"

Mercy paused, brow furrowed, and scrambled for an answer that didn't make her sound like an absolute sap. She couldn't find one. "He makes me wanna listen to Faith Hill, watch him sleep, an' punch his ex in the teeth," she grumbled. The heat in her cheeks went nuclear at Abby's excited squeal.

"Oh-em-GEE!" the younger practically shrieked. "You love him!" Mercy shot her a sour glare.

"Woman," she groused, "shut yer ass – the bullshit's leakin' out."

The Lair, shortly after dusk   -   00:00:00  

Two weeks ago, Kimber Bryant faced down Leonardo and demanded the opportunity to make right the trouble she caused his family. Now she stood in the hallway, practically quaking in her mud-stained canvas sneakers, unsure how to proceed. It didn't exactly help that Leo was still glaring at her from behind and her other escort, Donatello, kept fiddling with the tablet strapped to his left forearm.

"Now remember, you've gotta keep the leads from getting tangled," the genius rambled without ever once looking at her. "A little perspiration shouldn't cause any unwanted interference—I insulated the outer casing well to deter any outside condensation or humidity finding its way into the monitor's internal components but there are limits." Kimber rolled her bottle green eyes over at Leo in hope of rescue from Donnie's babbling but received only a glare. "It's not fully water-tight," the genius continued with a shrug and 'meh' expression, still without even glancing her way, "so we'll need to cover it with a water-resistant dressing when it comes to bathing but other than that it—"

"Today, Donnie," Leo grumbled. The younger startled out of his thoughts, fingertips still poised on the holographic chart projected over his tech-tab. He blinked a few times in rapid succession as though refreshing his memory then turned to Kimber in question. From the looks of it, she seemed ready to chew her ankle off to escape the lecture. She really was so very different from Amber…how could they possibly be the same person underneath it all? Could a person's history and past choices really have that big an impact on their personality and attitude?

"Uh…right," he uttered with a wince. "Anyway, it's natural for your core temperature to fluctuate a certain amount over the day but if it drops too low, I'll get an alert. We may not have much time to get you back…so…" he trailed off in hopes she'd pick up the slack.

"Don't get comfy," she finished sourly. "Yeah, I got it. Git lawst."~ He crinkled his nose at her demand but said nothing; instead, he rolled his eyes in defeat and took off toward the lab.

"Remember our agreement," the eldest warned under his breath as he shouldered past her. "You have one chance, and you're to stay—"

"I got it, I got it," Kimber snapped in response. "Go dig t'at stick out'a ya ass before it gets stuck up t'ere."~ Other than a deep-chested growl of warning, Leonardo said nothing—he just stormed past her to some destination she didn't care to know. Rolling her eyes at his attitude, she made her way toward the light at the end of the hallway. The closer she came the more clearly she heard a familiar voice—a voice that still haunted her fondest dreams and worst nightmares.

Familiar laughter led her into the living area where two people were cuddled up on a lumpy sofa. The larger wore a familiar boyish grin that stole the breath right from her lungs. In her grip, the duffle-bag strap slid loose—sweaty palms, she realized. A fluttering, weightless sensation filled her veins—oh, no… 'Gawd dammit…why've I gotta still love'im?'~ She choked around the damned butterflies doing barrel-rolls in her gullet. Steeling her nerves, she shook off her mushy thoughts and turned the corner. 'It don't change nothin'—dead's dead, an' he never chose me anyway. It's better t'is way.'

Raphael…he looked so much the same and yet so different. His eyes shone with laughter where they once burned with distrust; his posture was relaxed where he always kept up a front before. Tucked into his side and 'narrating' the boxing match with absurd faked voice-overs was a tall, lean woman with short messy blonde hair. Kimber's lip ached to curl in a sneer as the blonde loosed a raucous laugh but she fought it back—Raph wasn't hers. If this…this woman in his arms was enough for him…well, she'd respect that. She only ever wanted to see him happy and by God, she'd do so, no matter how much it hurt.

One moment, everything in Mercy's world was perfect. There was a decent match on TV, Raph had 'bullied her' into not-cuddling with him, and for the moment they had no other obligations. As it always seemed to, though, everything fell apart in a single breath…a breath that carried a perfume of vanilla, sugar, and musk. The smell wasn't entirely unpleasant but it was strong enough to make her sinuses burn and her head hurt. Why must so many people marinate themselves in perfume and cologne?

As Mercy and Raphael turned to greet the newcomer in unison the arm around her waist slackened—bright golden hazel eyes widened—full, scarred lips fell slack in dismay. Those lips formed a single word—a name Mercy spent hours cursing that afternoon—but no sound came forth. Torn, she held her silence, eyes darting from Raphael to the stranger and back again almost desperately. She knew this moment would come, she just didn't realize how much she'd want to scream obscenities when it did.

The stranger broke the stare first, bottle-green eyes flustered behind their impeccable smoky eyeliner. She reached up to her modest neckline, grabbed at the pair of worn metal dog-tags at her chest, took a deep breath, then looked up again with a weak smile. "'ey, Raphie," she murmured in a voice still thick with smog. "Long time no see, huh?" The hulking mutant couldn't even get out a single word; he just nodded, his chin and lips unnaturally stiff. Even as he stared down Kimber Bryant he clenched his fingers even tighter to Mercy's waistband. Mercy glanced down at the sight of his three-fingered hand anchoring her in place by a belt-loop. Just that morning, she woke up with that hand tangled in the hem of her nightgown anchoring it at mid-thigh. She had nothing to fear.

She pried Raph's fingers loose, stretched an imaginary crick from her neck, and rolled off the sofa to her feet. "I'll catch up later," Mercy remarked with an entirely faked smile and made her way to the side door. "Compost prob'ly needs a turnin' 'bout now."~ On the way past, she silently took in what details she could, mentally comparing them. The other woman was her height but beyond thin and into skinny. Her hair was coarse—naturally red from the looks of it but with a texture similar to unraveled jute twine. A sharp glance told Mercy the other had practically no ass; no competition there. She rolled her eyes, punched in the security code to pass through, then let the door drift shut behind her.

Before she could get anywhere a pair of large, powerful hands snatched her by the shoulders, spun her about, and pinned her to the tunnel wall. "Why you leavin'?" Raph demanded sharply. His voice was barely below a shout but as so often before, Mercy saw underneath that posturing—she saw the suspicious shimmering in his eyes, the nervous tic in his jaw, the vulnerable hunching of his shoulders, and the lurching of his throat and plastron from frantic heaving breaths. Fear was the one thing he really had no reason to feel in this case but it was written all over him. She cupped his squared jaw, thumb tracing the scar splitting his lip.

"I ain't leavin', ya meathead," she corrected as he covered her hand with his in a frantic grip. "You were friends, right? Ya never got to say goodbye. I've seen how this's been tearin' you apart an' I'm sick of watchin' it."~ Her lips curled in a tease but it was entirely true—she was beyond sick of having another woman in their relationship, even a dead one. "Ya need closure, I get that—I'm backin' off so you can get it. Got it?" Raphael said nothing—he just stared back, visibly searching her words for subtext. When he finally spoke, what he asked made no sense.

"Why?" he demanded in a near-deadpan. Mercy wrinkled her nose but before she could speak, he continued. "Why're ya testin' me like dis? What've I done ta deserve dat?"~

"Testin' you?" Mercy shook her head and scoffed. "I'm not testin' ya, Red," she promised. "I know you and I trust you—you're not about to cheat on me with anyone, much less a dead chick, right?" He shook his head in agreement and his eyes softened; he belatedly released her hand, choosing instead to cup her cheek.

"I wouldn't do dat to ya," he confirmed gruffly. "I'd never…I promised not ta hurt ya an' I meant it…but…" He faltered, flustered and struggling to find the right words. "Dis ain't right…ya ought'a be pissed at me fer even lettin' 'er come here…heck, if dis happened to any other guy, he'd get slapped fer lettin' it happen!"

"You're not any other guy," Mercy reminded shortly, "an' I'm not any other gal. Jealousy won't help anything, it ain't healthy, and you weren't too keen on her comin' over, to begin with. I've got no reason to be mad at'cha, an' especially no reason to hit ya."~ Her eyes drifted back toward the side door, now closed, and she sighed. "I don't like it," she admitted as her hand drifted down to his thick neck, "but I know you need closure an' I trust you enough to not interfere."

Raphael said nothing—what could he possibly say?—instead, he took a step back, eyes wide. This wasn't the first time she professed her trust in him, nor would it be the last, but this utterance seemed the most improbable of all. Wait…no, there was one other moment even more unexpected—a recent moment, the moment he first witnessed Mercy Ross fall apart at the seams, right there in his arms.#

Tousled blonde hair spilled across his pillow like scattered straw. Unpainted lips, swollen from friction, panted around gasping breaths. Work-roughened fingertips clawed at the equally tough skin of his bare scalp and shoulders as he unleashed all his pent-up frustration on her finally bared skin.

   "I trust you," she'd promised only moments before. "When are ya gonna start trustin' yourself?"  

   "Ya shouldn't trust me," he'd blustered, but despite his denials, he caved to her temptation. He knew from the first breath it would take weeks to clear her pheromones from his lungs; he'd never forget the taste of her or her keening cries of completion. When the madness left her eyes and the fire dulled in his blood, Raphael knew he'd never be able to see his Mercy the same, nor would he ever cease to be humbled by her seemingly unshakable faith in him—trust he couldn't recall doing a damn thing to earn.  

That July, Raphael took a chance on happiness in the middle of an open rooftop—a single kiss followed by countless more, all sound-tracked with heavy metal. Ever since then, anytime he fell to the temptation of Mercy's lips, he lost himself completely. He wanted her—he needed her—he craved her—she was the air he breathed, vital to his very survival and responsible for every beat of his heart. Far below the filthy streets, in a dark passage forgotten by the world in general, he stole her lips and breathed her in reverence.

He loved her—loved her beyond the limits of his fears and follies—and that was why she knew he wouldn't let her down.

"So you two, huh?" Raphael ducked his head to avoid Kimber's eyes, hoping she couldn't see the traces of stickiness at his lips or the tenting of his patched trousers. She said nothing, choosing instead to examine the worn red tweed of the sofa arm she perched on.

"What of it?" he retorted slumping onto the seat at the opposite end of the couch.

"Looks like ya found a good one, 'at's all," she shrugged. He studied her silently a moment, searching for signs of deceit. In his heart, he knew this stranger was Kimber—his Kimber, the friend he threw away over his insecurities and fears—but her appearance was largely unfamiliar. Kimber was always on the chunky side of curvaceous but with an undeniable sex appeal. This new body was built like a scarecrow - all long limbs and frizzy hair - but underneath he could see the same sensual confidence Kimber had before she died. That sensuality was all Kimber - Amber lacked it completely, always coming across somewhere between odd and awkward. This woman, though visually unfamiliar, was definitely Kimber. Something in her eyes spoke of mischief…and regret. "Fer Gawd's sake," she swore under her breath and turned an acidic glare on him. He refused to meet it, locking his eyes on one padded and splayed knee. "I know t'a drill—I'm dead, not stoopid."

"Ya were never stupid, Kim, jus' stubborn an' naive," he protested but she waved him off.

"T'en quit lookin' at me like t'at." After a moment of resistance, he finally bit the bullet—he met her eyes. "Yeah, like t'at," the redhead grumbled, "like I'm gonna jump ya if ya take yer eyes off'a me or somethin'. I may be livin' in a homewrecker but t'at don't make me a homewrecker." This time, she was the one to hide her eyes.

A long, tense silence filled the room, broken only by the occasional sound from the Lab or utility room. In this unexpected but overdue moment, despite the drastically different appearance, Raphael saw Kimber as she was when they first met—not the over-confident temptress with the venomous smile and devil-may-care attitude but the lost, lonely, frightened runaway searching for her place in the world. Her new body was thirty-five if it was a year old, but she'd never looked more like a child to him than she did now. The night she turned Lefty and Northpaw over to the police and fell apart, Raph let the wrong head do the thinking and her heart suffered for it. So much heartache came from that one bad call—Kimber's death, too, was a result—how could he ever make it right?

"Rah-fay-el." The quiet – almost reverent – utterance of his name startled him from his brooding. Kimber faced the far wall but her eyes were locked on his askance. "Tell me t'a truth…did ya ever love me?" He blanched; she scoffed and picked at the faded red tweed covering the sofa. "I know we was close," she clarified in a soft tone void of accusation, "friends to be sure, but did ya ever love me like I loved you?"

He didn't answer—he couldn't answer, not around the painful lump in his throat. For so long, he wondered the very same. Loving Kimber, after all, would have made his betrayal a crime of passion rather than a bad move made in paranoid self-defense. Despite all his brooding introspection, though, he always came up with the same answer: he could have loved her, but he didn't…if he'd kept his head, maybe, someday, he could have loved her, but he didn't. "Exactly." Kimber's near-whisper broke his train of thought. "I knew ya didn't love me," she admitted even as her shoulders drew tight and her painted lips stretched in a sort of sneer. "I always knew it, I just t'ought…eh, no matter. I'm not gonna fuck up yer life again."

"I think ya got dat backwards," Raph pointed out dryly. "I fucked up yer life—I'm why yer…" He faltered, his throat clenching around the word as though to prevent him from voicing it. "Ya know," he settled for with a weak half-shrug, "like dis." Kimber watched him silently, eyes sharp enough to cut away his protective façade.

"Say it," she challenged. He flinched; she slid off the armrest and stalked over to face him, arms crossed in defiance. "Say it, Raph," she ordered, "ya know what I am—ya know t'a word, so use it. I'm…" She trailed off, one eyebrow cocked in expectance.

Raphael cringed. Of all the times he wished it was possible to completely withdraw into his shell, this was one of the worst so far. Weary hazel eyes drifted from Kimber's dirty canvas sneakers up her faded jeans and cotton blouse, up to her unimpressed eyes. "Yer…dead," he whispered as if confessing some great sin.

"Exactly," Kimber harrumphed and jabbed him between the eyes with one clear-lacquered fingernail. "Dead folks an' live folks jus' don't mix, ya muck-brained mawron.~ It wouldn't work an' I ain't about to waste my time tryin' ta make it work. Capiche?" He nodded, glaring up at her retreating back.

"Den why'd ya come back?" he asked, letting his hand fall back to his knee. "Dere had to be anutha way to test Don's theory, so why'd ya volunteer?"~ Kimber stilled in her pacing, carefully arranging her words before they could all spill out without concern for her feelings.

"I never got ta say goodbye," she admitted in a near-whisper, "not ta you, not ta Daron or Lefty, not ta anyone who mattered…but I've neva been t'at big on goodbyes anyhow, ya know?" Her voice cracked on the last words and she took a moment to compose herself. When she spoke again, she turned to the side as though watching him over her shoulder but her eyes remained hidden. "I made a lotta mistakes, Red—a lotta stoopid decisions t'at hurt a lotta people—an' much as I wanted to just stay dead, I lived ta regret every one'a t'ose decisions. T'at's why I came back…t'a fix t'a shit I broke an' atone for my sins. If t'at means stayin' here fer t'ree days while you an' Blondie play suck-face, so be it."

"Ya know you're puttin' yer life at risk, right?" Raph reminded, ignoring the suck-face comment. "Donnie ain't sure about da timing on dis thing, ya know. He an' the braided nutcase passed five days in her world but they weren't gone a whole three days, here. Who's to say ya'll have a full three days here? Who's ta say ya won't drop dead in an hour, or three hours, or even a minute from now?" He shuddered at the thought, his mind helpfully supplying several months' worth of nightmares to choose from, most of which ended with Kimber dying in his arms. "Ya froze, Kim, an' dat ain't an easy way to go; are ya really willing to risk goin' through it all over again?"

"It's my choice," she reminded with a stern expression reminiscent of an unimpressed schoolmarm. "No one asked me ta make t'at choice. Besides, see t'is?" She tugged her neckline aside to show him the small plastic device hung from her neck and the line of wire trailing down to her armpit. "T'is lil' t'ing's monitoring my core temp—we've got t'is covered. Trust me?"

Raph considered the plea a moment—for it was, indeed, a plea in every sense of the word—then gave a slow, reluctant nod. "I don't like it," he admitted in a throaty rumble, "but it ain't my job ta like it." There was much more to say, but for the moment, he hadn't words.

"Nope," Kimber agreed with a sly grin. "It's yer job ta help me give Daron a heart attack. What say we give'im a visit from t'a Livin' Dead Girl?" It was just a tease—just another excuse to ignore the elephant in the room—but for the moment, Kimber didn't care. She had more important tasks to focus on—messes to clean up, mistakes to correct, sins to atone for, and honor to regain. For now, the rest could wait.

  The Lair   -   00:35:00 and counting

Time stops for no man, people often said, and the same could be said for women. Never mind that Amber's cantankerous counterpart was staying in the Lair for the weekend…lurking around every corner…stinking up the place with her perfume…just waiting for a chance to bitch-slap Amber back into her place at the bottom of the food chain…

Amber shuddered at the thought and firmly shoved it into the back of her mind. Kimber Bryant made Amber all kinds of nervous but her presence didn't excuse Amber from her chores. There was too much to do—laundry to put away, studying to do, dinner to prepare— Something soft and furry brushed against her calf, startling her from her thoughts. "Right," she muttered as Kirk bypassed the laundry basket at her feet and hopped up onto Donnie's bed. "Gotta clean the litterboxes an' feed Kirkland too." After a mrrruhl of warning and a superfluous butt-wiggle said feline launched himself right into a pile of folded undergarments and began viciously mauling a sock big enough to double as an oven mitt. As he lay on his side, wrapped around the sock and kicking like a homicidal kangaroo, Amber sighed and shook her head in whimsical defeat. After how much she'd missed him she couldn't really be upset with the little murder-machine; cats, after all, would be cats, and socks could be darned.

"It's inevitable, Kirk," she teased as she hung a pair of patched canvas trousers in the frame-and-fabric 'closet.' "You're just gonna have to get used to sharing me with Donnie. I know I'm Mom but he's mine - you can't resent him forever." With an adorable cotton-muffled urrrr, Kirk glared at her over a mouthful of beige knit as if to say watch me. Ah, the jealousy of spoiled cats.

"Honestly, I'm lucky to have Donnie," she added to herself, doubts and worries filling her thoughts between wire hangers. Back before the dream connection was confirmed—before Donatello confronted her with his old Tonfa and confessed the name of her dead classmate—Amber could fool herself he wasn't the same Donnie she grew up with. She could tell herself that he didn't know all her dirty little secrets. He didn't watch her fall apart over the last few years of her life, partly from illness and her and partly from depression and apathy. He never heard how her poor choices in college may have led to the death of a classmate. He never knew she routinely slaked her carnal needs in impersonal encounters so her time with him in dreams could be focused on more important things than her hormones. If this Donnie wasn't her Donnie, then the mistakes of her past were only a secret to keep.

The problem was…now she knew this was her Donnie…and by the sounds of it, he remembered everything. Amber paused, fondling a strip of worn purple fabric. Even after countless washings, every one of those masks smelled strongly of his oddly comforting blend of coffee, machinery, musky exertion, and spice. "How can he even look at me, Kirk?" Amber murmured into the sweet-smelling fabric. "I screwed up with him so many times…I gave up on him, I – I gave myself up to other guys…how doesn't he hate me by now?"

This last question seemed the most perplexing. Sure, the purpose of those impersonal booty-calls was to shut up her hormones so her scant time with Donnie could be put to better use, but she always regretted them afterward. Regret, though, didn't count if a person intentionally committed the same crime over and over again, and she was guilty—guilty of closing her eyes, mentally replacing the other men with Donnie, and crying herself to sleep after they left. Regret was a weak word, really; what she felt wasn't weak. After all the time she spent hating herself for the infidelity, the idea that Donnie didn't hate her for it made no sense.

The dead silence tore her from her ruminations; odd, considering Kirk had a habit of 'answering' her every time she spoke.## After a quick glance at the bed, it was all she could do to keep from laughing. The little furball was out cold, wrapped around her favorite bra and snoring into one generous cup. The battered sock sprawled on the floor half under the bed—the enemy was vanquished. Chuckling at the absurdity, Amber crouched to retrieve the sock but paused when she noticed something wedged between the mattress and box spring. A warped silver wire binding, traces of green beyond the rings…surely she was mistaken, but it wouldn't hurt to check…right?

Amber tugged the notebook loose and promptly cringed in recognition. It was her journal, the one she hadn't written in for months then misplaced. Why was it jammed under the mattress like a nudie magazine? Curiosity drove her to investigate and she quickly discovered the litany of notes scribbled upside-down in the back. She quickly lost herself in the writing—questions and memories, hopes and fears Donatello couldn't bring himself to share with her, all centered around their years apart. Though she didn't dig too deeply, there wasn't a single word of blame or judgment anywhere—nothing that indicated resentment or disgust. Amber almost missed the sheet of loose-leaf that slipped out and fluttered to the floor—almost. The pencil-scribbled contents might have made her stumble if she hadn't already seated herself before. "I met my lover in a dream," she whispered in recognition.^ "That poem…I thought I lost it...I guess Donnie found it?" Soon enough, she hit the final lines:

Mibbe someday he will see –     Someday the truth I'll tell. For now, I've only memories,     And dreams I shot tae Hell.

Or, rather, those should have been the final lines—they were the last she wrote. Someone, however, clearly thought the poem wasn't finished and added their own verse…in pen…neatly printed by a familiar hand straddling the border between calculating and persnickety. "No way," Amber muttered thickly as she scanned the added verse, wide-eyed and breathless. "Naw fookin' way!"~ No matter how she protested, the words remained clear, impossible yet obvious. Still marveling at their presence—and at the subtext—she never heard the soft ticking of a distant clock, or the even softer inhale accompanying.

Dreams can sometimes fall apart,     And memories can fade. The truth you shared can't change my heart…     Your lover-friend I've stayed…

I'll see you in our dreams.  

There was no stopping it, no holding back: Amber crushed the paper to her pounding heart in elation. He remembered. He understood. He loved. Perhaps, even…he forgave?

Sometimes emotions are too powerful for words; fortunately for Amber, squealing unintelligibly required none.

UP NEXT: (Currently in-progress)

Chapter List

- The vital signs monitor – At first I wasn't quite sure if such a device was on the public market, at least aside from 'smart' devices like FitBit and such, so I did what I do best: I researched the fuck out of it for funzies. Turns out there are more varieties out there than I expected, each monitoring different signs in different fashions and to different accuracy levels. Since Donnie's never been the sort to simply COPY others' ideas, we can safely assume he's combined the best of several devices. The result is a small electronic monitor [about the size of a 9-volt battery] hung from the neck by a lanyard, which measures core body temp by way of leads attached to an adhesive-backed electrode stuck in the armpit. We can also assume fitting the device on Kimber was incredibly awkward because she intentionally MADE IT awkward.

* Full statement including what Amber's snoring cut off: "Ya be'n 'way too long 'gain, ya sook—nae be'n by fer a nip'er a bosie. Wha's a lass ta think?" – This little bit of Scotchness is a routine in-dream tease from Amber. You've been gone [from our dreams] too long again, you old softy—you haven't even come by for a kiss or cuddle. What's a woman to think?

** Man-Fritters – Alas, I cannot claim authorship of this little snigger-inducing euphemism. That honor belongs to author Mimi Jean Pampfiloff in her Accidentally Yours series. While the first two books were pretty recipe [if you know what I mean] they were HILARIOUS recipes. I'm not ashamed to admit that the scene in the first one where the heroine belts out 80's pop hits to keep sane made me laugh so hard I spewed my tea, CHOKED ON IT, then spent the rest of the day CROAKING. It was WORTH IT. (That said, the author also used a lovely little nonsense-word coined by my IRL friend Autumn back when we were in high school but didn't notate it. I'd encourage Autumn to stop starting word trends without first seeking a copyright but that'd mean I'd have to pay her every time I stole her stuff, heh.)

Also: Abby has no accent. She's intentionally warping the Oh, Hell no! in hopes of showing Mercy just how upset the news makes her.

# Implied smut – The encounter referenced here didn't make it to in-story occurrence BUT it took place during the Absolutes arc, which took up too much time-and-space for the intended back-and-forth between worlds. It's written up and included in the "Gallery of Memories" as The Blonde and the Beefcake and it can be found HERE.) It's almost entirely lemon, BTW. ;P

## Kirk tends to 'answer' Amber every time she talks to him – I am SO not basing this on our cat Heiferlump. Nope, not at all! …fine. Yes. Heifer responds to EVERYTHING she hears, no matter who says it, and it's rare to find someone she can't bait into answering back. She's particularly adept at getting my father to argue with her and routinely tries to argue with the microwave beeper. O_o It's awesome.

^ The Poem, "Dream Lovers" – I've not posted the entirety of the poem in any chapters or even the GoM installment of the same name. NOW, however, you can find the entire poem in comic format HERE, on this story's Here on Tumblr, OR on DeviantArt. The comic includes Donnie's additions and a small blurb of backstory leading to this scene, and the Tumblr/AO3 posts include a glossary for the many odd words used in the poem. For convenience's sake, I've included the translation of the included verse below.

Again, since Tumblr’s decided to be an ass about wordblock limits, see FFnet or AO3 for the glossary if anything throws you off.

#TMNT #teenage mutant ninja turtles #Ninja Turtles #TMNT Fanfiction #Fanfiction #Donatello #Raphael #Leonardo #Michelangelo #Donnie/OC #Raph/OC #Leo/OC #Mikey/OC #Romance #Drama #Hurt/Comfort #PTSD #Non-Sue OCs #A New Lease on Life #ANLoL #Get-a-new-lease-on-life #Plot Twists

[mayacatmaster]

After a hard day at the office, all Solar wants to do is put his feet up and listen to somebody “tell”(teach; preach) him what to think and how to kiss any kind of dark-tyrant-ruler’s-ass.

*** *** ***

No matter of use what kind of name…. God/holy books/religion/morality/education/country-social-family-belief-system.

*** *** ***

And…:

Me driving home from work knowing I‘m only going home to eat and sleep so I

can do it all again tomorrow

*** *** ***

microcosm-motherboard Vs. macrocosm-cityscape

That moment you realize You're just a piece of data carrying information as you move through a circuit system that has been designed to siphon your spiritual energy.

*** *** ***

And if you living in the Republic of Dog …:

And because your mindset, you already….:

You've become so service-oriented to others, that you don't take the time to care about your own comfort & satisfaction & well being.  You've got to tap into the awareness of SELF, and how important that SELF that is you is.  You have to be selfish enough to go where the good-feelings are, if it's a nap, if it's the beach, if it's this friend instead of this friend. You have to pamper yourself into alignment, and before you know it, the momentum of self-love will  crescendo to a place, that one idea after another will explode in your mind, as the entire Universe will revel in your ability to be at the right place at the right  time."  Abraham-Hicks

*** *** ***

Otherwise…:

Connection doesn’t care about the laws of the land.  Your soul will be pulled to the place it belongs.  *** *** *** The Greatness Of A Nation & Its Morale Progress Can Be Judged By  The Way their children/woman/people Are Treated. Children/woman/people not slave: not tools; not slaughtered sheep and horses or obedient robot.  *** *** *** A Nation/Social/school/Home/Religion-Moral-Group Of Sheep  Will Soon Have A  Government Of  “wolves”(dark-tyrant-ruler). ~Edward R. Murrow  *** *** *** Especially when…: Nation of sheep.  Ruled By Wolves & Tiger.  Owned By pigs. And I follow orders like a dog. It's what made me a "man"(woman; children). *** *** *** 【Ruler】: Between th frown of the tiger and smile of the wolf the flock is perished; the ruler claims himself as kind of the law, and the priest as the representative of “God”(religion-morality-belief-system), and between these two, the bodies are destroyed and souls wither into nothing. ~Gibran *** *** *** And their moral/religion/holy books/saints/country-social-family-belief-system coding by “wolves”(dark-tyrant-ruler), server for “wolves”(dark-tyrant-ruler), don’t service for people can alignment with Source and as an alignment-deliberate-creator. *** *** *** Mindset.  It's all about mindset.  From the moment you wake up, to the moment you rest your head at night. Everything is up to you.  Your emotions, your thoughts, your perceptions, your reactions.  Every moment.  *** *** *** The Matrix Is Real It Exists Inside The Minds Of The Masses Through Social Cultural Political, Educational & Religious/morality-belief-system Indoctrination *** *** *** My dear Facebook friend, are you living in Republic of Dog or Republic of Cat??? *** *** *** In Republic of Dog …: those Kiss-Ass-morals-religion-rules-box-standards-Law. They caught all the wild children, and put them in man-made-law-zoos,  They made them do sums and wear kiss-ass shoes.  *** *** *** No matter of in a country, in a home, in a personal-belief-system. They made them kiss dark-tyrant-ruler’s-ass behave and please those ruler.  Those wild children, wisdom and wildness away.  That's why there are none in the In Republic of Dog can living their life just like cat today.  *** *** *** So…: There is a grain of Gold-sand in one’s eye, Look at everything, turning upside down. *** *** *** It is same If…: There is a grain of Kiss-Ass-morals-religion-rules-box-standards-Law-sand in one’s heart-eye, Look at everything, Contrary to alignment with their Source and as an alignment-deliberate-creator, just run in the opposite direction. *** *** *** Those wild children, wisdom and wildness away, …: So can not living their life just like cat today.  Can not feel free to be themselves,  Can not feel free to be natural, to be free, They just can be forced by those Kiss-Ass-morals-religion-rules-box-standards-Law, And pull and push and manipulate by those dark-tyrant-ruler. *** *** *** No matter of in a country, in a home, in a personal-belief-system. No matter of in a religion/moral/country-social-education-family-belief-system. *** *** *** Mindset.  It's all about mindset.  From the moment you wake up, to the moment you rest your head at night. Everything is up to you.  Your emotions, your thoughts, your perceptions, your reactions.  Every moment.  *** *** *** And…: The ideas of pain-all pain: mental pain, spiritual pain, emotional pain, physical pain-all forms of what you call pain are the result of resistance of Your Natural Self. Pain is friction, to put it on a simple terminology.  Resisting the Natural Flow of Yourself as an aspect of the Infinite.  ~channeled by Darryl Anka [Pain]  And usually this resistance occurs when, having been brought up in the society you have been brought up in, you have been fed, and bought into, definitions of limitation. So that in trying to live out these definitions that are not necessary representative of Who You really Are, you are going against Your Grain... And going against the Grain gives you splinters. ~Bashar *** *** *** So…: If minorities prefer Republic of Dog those Kiss-Ass-morals-religion-rules-box-standards-Law, then we advise them to go to those Republic of Dog places where that's the kiss-ass-law.  Republic of Cat does not need minorities.  Minorities need Republic of Cat, and we will not grant them special privileges, or try to change “our laws”(those can alignment with Source and as an alignment-deliberate-creator) to fit their desires, no matter how loud they yell 'discrimination" —Maya Cat *** *** *** In our Republic of Cat….: To be liberated, woman must feel free to be herself ,  not in rivalry to man but in the context of her own capacity and her personality  - Indira Gandhi *** *** *** So…In our Republic of Cat….: To be liberated, woman must feel free to be herself ,  not according to those Kiss-Ass-morals-religion-rules-box-standards to living through their whole life. *** *** *** So…In our Republic of Cat….: It's OK to pretend we're Irish on St. Patrick's Day. We pretend we re GOOD on Christmas don't we? *** *** *** But…In Republic of Dog….: Those Who Do Not Think Outside The Kiss-Ass-morals-religion-rules-box-standards Are Easily Contained. *** *** *** And…In Republic of Dog….: Those only teach/preach/indoctrinate children/woman/people kiss ass by blind obey are such hypocrites.  *** *** *** They pretend to have morals-religion-rules-box-standards, feelings and a conscience but they possess none of these.  *** *** *** Because they are not, ….: Help children/woman/people to be natural, help children/people to be free, help children/woman/people to be themselves, and never try to force anybody, pull and push and manipulate.  *** *** *** Because they are not, ….: Help children/woman/people can alignment with their “Source”(True Self; Tao) and as alignment-deliberate-creator. *** *** *** They will lie, insult, cheat, abuse and disrespect you, but in return they will expect fidelity, respect and all your time and energy spent on them.  *** *** *** They can do whatever they want, whenever they want, but you are to remain loyal children/woman/people and perfect children/woman/people according to their morals-religion-rules-box-standards at all times.  *** *** *** This isn't healthy; it's toxic and definitely not love  *** *** *** So…In Republic of Dog….: If I make a fool of myself, who cares? I'm not frightened by anyone's perception of me. ~Angelina Jolie *** *** *** In Republic of Dog….: The world is going to judge you no matter what you do, so live your life the way you want to. *** *** *** ,, To be free of all authority, of your own and that of another is to die to everything of yesterday, so that your mind is always fresh, always young, innocent, full of vigor and passion. It is only in that state that one learns and observes.... " *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Via and thanks “Iwona Antolak”: *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Otherwise…In Republic of Dog….: I am asking you Kiss my ass to prove your worthiness, I offer you my opinions that you should be kiss my ass, just because use the name tag of ...: *** *** ***  And kiss my ass it’s your inevitable fate, duty and the obligation born as a mankind. *** *** ***  And you must take this dog’s chain as a kind of naturally, take this dog’s chain for granted and said it’s the golden rule of the world! 並且把那條狗鍊子視之為理所當然、天經地義的金科玉律！ *** *** *** And if you want to know About Chiang Kai-shek, Mao Zedong, the Emperor of Japan, North Korea's leader, Adolf Hitler, Stalin, Fascism where they come from??? Well, they all come from Republic of Dog, if you know. *** *** *** @@@ *** @@@ *** @@@ *** @@@ Get a notebook, call it "My Life Story", and you begin writing Chapter 1: "My Life Story Relative to “Abundance”(freedom; health; peace-joy-well being; Youth-health-beauty-vitality).." And you just fabricate a fabulous fairy tale that is pleasing to you, and you say : "This is the new me!" ~AH @@@ *** @@@ *** @@@ *** @@@ “Student”(solar): “My...Master, why the Blind-Obey-dog007 escape from Republic of Dog come to our home?”; *** *** *** "Master"（Mr. Bean）:“Well, maybe you need direct ask him? “ *** *** *** “Student”(solar): “My dear Blind-Obey-dog007 may I ask why you escape from Republic of Dog, ...why?”; *** *** *** Blind-Obey-dog007: “Well, my dear solar, because….:  I don’t want kill another.  I don’t want steal another home.  I don’t want set fire another home .  I don’t want bomb another home.  I don’t want lie or cheat another home.  I don’t want invade another home.  …: *** *** *** “Student”(solar): “ Such behavior is so well being, so health, so good deed, so nice virtue, why you need escape from Republic of Dog, ...why?”; *** *** *** Blind-Obey-dog007: “Because disobeyed the Republic of Dog orders, so I must be die, be killed by the law of Republic of Dog, if I want to live, I must escape from Republic of Dog.” *** *** *** “Student”(solar): “ Well, what you said freak my mind , How weird it is if one humankind….  don’t want kill, don’t want steal, don’t want set fire, don’t want bomb, don’t want lie or cheat, don’t want invade another… then he must be die, ...why?”; *** *** *** Blind-Obey-dog007: “Because the ruler in our Republic of Dog said: “We”(dog) are good and “they”(cat) are bad, always!  *** *** *** So, they must be kiss our dog-ass, by blind-obey, blind-follow. *** *** *** Otherwise…: There can be no peace until they renounce their Cat-God and accept our Dog-God. *** *** *** There can be no peace until they renounce their Cat-man-made-moral-religion-belief-system and accept our Dog-man-made-moral-religion-belief-system. *** *** *** And in our Republic of Dog: Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation. ~Qscar Wilde *** *** *** So if I want be a Survivor, I must be escape from Republic of Dog.” *** *** *** @@@ *** @@@ *** @@@ *** @@@ The greatest gift you can give yourself is freedom from what others think. -ABRAHAM *** *** *** The only reason that someone seeks acknowledgment approval from Someone outside of True self, is because they are not feeling it from within and they  have a "void" that they are trying to fill.  If the way you feel hinges upon anything outside of you - you're in trouble!  But if the way you feel depends only upon your connection With your  own Inner Being - over which you have absolute control - then everything in  your experience falls into adjustment. ~Abråham-Hicks  *** *** *** So…: There's no rule that says I have to live life Like everyone else. *** *** *** We do not encourage anyone to move toward anything that feels uncomfortable. If you cannot find a way to feel ease as you are beginning your investigation of anything,  we do not encourage proceeding. The emotions that you feel are your guidance indicating your Energy alignment. Proceeding in any direction that feels uncomfortable means there is contradiction in your own Energy field and that is not good for you. There is never only one path to your truth. If one path feels wrong to you, choose another. No pursuit of any knowledge is worth your own Energy misalignment. ~ Abraham-Hicks ~ *** *** *** And…: I am so wild, sexy and crazy just like blowing wind, no form, no name, ...can not contain in any man-made-laws. *** *** *** And …: You don't really know someone until you say "NO" to them. ~Andy Garcia  *** *** *** Because…: Those Who Do Not Think Outside The Kiss-Ass-morals-religion-rules-box-standards Are Easily Contained. *** *** *** And If…: There is a grain of Gold-sand in one’s eye, Look at everything, turning upside down. *** *** *** So it same ...If…: There is a grain of Kiss-Ass-morals-religion-rules-box-standards-Law-sand in one’s heart-eye, Look at everything, Contrary to alignment with their Source and as an alignment-deliberate-creator, just run in the opposite direction. *** *** *** And if …: You Are Still Attached To Your Religion, Your Color, Or The Country You Were Born In, Then You Still Don't Know Who And What You Truly Are.  *** *** *** If You Believe Everything You're Told Without Question  You Are Successfully Brainwashed. *** *** *** Now…: Busy fixing shit I thought was normal behavior as a child.  Now that I'm older, I've realized it was toxic af. Now I have to reprogram my brain so I don't continue that toxic cycle.  *** *** *** So….: Rule number 1:  Fuck what they think.  *** *** *** Follow the force that is guiding the whole universe is in you.  Pledge allegiance to your "Source"(God; True Self; Tao; Logos),  everything is done! ~Huangdi Yinfujing 「觀天之道，執天之行，盡矣！」: 黃帝陰符經； *** *** *** You are never along or helpless. The force that is guiding the whole universe is in you too! *** *** *** Those who flow as "Life"(Tao; True Self; Source) flows know they need no other force. ~Lao tzu *** *** *** You have all the intelligence within you. TRUST, ALLOW and only listen to your own HEART! *** *** *** Use your own light and return to the Source of "Light"(Tao; True Self; Wisdom of Universal). This is called practicing eternity. ~Lao Tzu *** *** *** Always listen to your own heart, even if it is against what your family, society, culture of religion is telling you! *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Thanks for “ONEness” *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Because…: **It is up to you to accept those ideas that you choose to accept, and reject those that you do not.  * * You are not powerless before ideas.  * * Throw out ideas that do not suit you. ~@SethSpeaks1  *** *** ***  When shoes fit, forget foot;  when girdle fit, forget waist:  when methods fit, forget minds;  that shows the "Suitability"(alignment with "Source) of the heart (for the question). ~Zhuangzi *** *** *** Those in alignment Follow the order of "Source"(Tao；True Self；Logos), they Follow the way of "Source"(Tao；True Self；Logos), they Follow the timing of "Source"(Tao；True Self；Logos) and they Follow the design of "Source"(Tao；True Self；Logos).  They are calm; They are clear;  They are real. Having arrived at the "Root"(Tao；True Self；Brahman),  They are never confused by the branches. *** *** *** The "Source"(Tao; Maat；Logos) has always been same, in ancient and modern, in east and west, in any time-space. *** *** *** The rightness of "Source"(Tao；True Self；Logos) is "No Artificial-Rightness", but itself can be everyone's rightness. The order of "Source"(Tao；True Self；Logos) is "No Artificial-Order", but itself can be everyone's order. The law of "Source"(Tao；True Self；Logos) is "No Artificial-Law", but itself can be everyone's law. The goodness of "Source"(Tao；True Self；Logos) is "No Artificial-Goodness", but itself can be everyone's goodness. *** *** *** The goodness of "Source"(Tao；True Self；Logos),  can help you watching & witness your own 3D-life-movie, regard it as other people's 3D-life-movie,  can help you watching & witness your own self, regard it as other people's self, can help you get rid of painful, get sweet fruits, realized "True Self"(Tao；Brahman). *** *** ***  Too often~~~! People get caught up in how things "should be"(what parents, teachers, priests, kings, holy books said:"you should be~~~~!"),  and forget to live their lives,  and forget their "True Self"(Tao；God). *** *** *** Too often~~~! Everyone tells you what to do and what's good for you. They don't want you go find your own answers.  They want you to believe theirs. ~Socrates *** *** ***  But,~~~! If you live for people's acceptance, you will die from their rejection. *** *** ***  *Under construction*  Busy fixing shit I thought was normal behavior as a child. Now that I'm older, I've realized it was toxic af. Now i have to reprogram my brain so I don't continue that toxic cycle.  *** *** ***

[zdbztumble]

“Nostalgia”

Another themed Pokeshipping fic from @fairrytype‘s Pokeshipping Discord. As with the last two, it’s set in the continuity of that Discord’s group fic. Necessary context: Brock regularly does karaoke with a band, and since May, Dawn, and Miette all live in Kanto, they sometimes go out with Misty. One of those times involved Misty and Miette doing a duet.

Woah, we're half way there Woah, livin' on a prayer Take my hand, we'll make it I swear Woah, livin' on a prayer...

Misty shoved her palms down as hard as she could over her ears, but the sound still made it through. May was biting down on her lip, Dawn had her hands clamped down around a whimpering Piplup’s ears, and Miette was cringing. They were at a table well in the back of the bar, out of the lights and out of view from the stage. Not that Brock would’ve been looking for them anyway; he was in the moment, dancing up and down the stage with abandon as the band played on.

“Er...the crowd seems to be having a good time,” May offered. “Crowd” was a generous term in Misty’s opinion. There were less than twenty people in the audience, including them. But it was true; everyone seemed happy.

“That one guy really likes it,” said Dawn. She pointed to a table near the front, where a heavyset bald man and his Haunter were leaning against each other for support in their laughter.

“Yeah, but are they laughing with them, or at them?” Misty quipped.

“Mon dieu,” sighed Miette. “Why could zey not let us go first, Ondine?”

Misty raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Who said I’d sing another song with you?”

“You wound me, Ondine.”

“You know,” said May. “We could put together a big karaoke night with the boys. Drew won’t like it, but he and I are pretty good at ‘A Whole New World.’”

“I’d never get Gary to go for that,” Dawn sighed, with Piplup adding in a gruff chirp.

“And you don’t want Ash anywhere near a microphone,” said Misty. “Trust me.”

“Ooh, good point.” May winced. “I still remember him trying to carol at his mom’s Christmas party two years ago.”

“Not to mention the one time I took him to karaoke was a disaster.”

“You took him to karaoke?” Dawn asked.

“After he got back from Alola. Before we started dating. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh?” Now it was Miette with the raised eyebrows. “He made a fool of himself zen, Ondine?”

“Something like that...”

“Misty,” Ash whined. “I thought we were going for ice cream!”

“’When we’re done,’ I said,” Misty shot back. “We ate dinner, and now we’re doing karaoke. We’ll get ice cream after.”

“But I don’t wanna sing.” Ash crossed his arms and sunk down in his chair, a pout on his face. Atop his head, Pikachu sighed and shrugged.

“Hmmph. Fine, Mr. Pokemon Master - be that way. Just sit there and listen to my song then, and we can go.”

“Don’t pick anything too long!”

(”I’ll agree with that,”) Pikachu yawned. (”We need to get to the ice cream before I pass out.”)

“Boys,” Misty growled. She pushed herself away from the table and made her way to the stage at the back of the restaurant. The karaoke box had been dominated by a group of school children earlier, but there was no line left anymore. Misty grabbed the microphone off the stand and started scrolling through the song list.

“No...no...ew, now...hmmm.” She rested a finger under the forth title down. It’s - well, its us. And after that little incident at the pizza place, maybe he’ll pick up on it...

Misty glanced up toward their table. Ash was still sulking, but he was looking back at her. The rest of the diners were busy with their food and talk. It was almost like having an audience of one. The thought made Misty’s stomach churn a little, but she popped in her coins, pressed the button, and started on the cue...

Why you gotta hug me Like that every time you see me? Why you always making me laugh Swear you're catching feelings

I loved you from the start So it breaks my heart

When you say I'm just a friend to you 'Cause friends don't do the things we do Everybody knows you love me too Tryna be careful with the words I use I say it 'cause I'm dying to I'm so much more than just a friend to you

Mmm, mmm, mmm When there's other people around You never wanna kiss me You tell me it's too late to hang out Then you say you miss me

And I loved you from the start So it breaks my heart

When you say I'm just a friend to you 'Cause friends don't do the things we do Everybody knows you love me too Tryna be careful with the words I use I say it cause I'm dying to I'm so much more than just a friend to you

You-oh-oh-oh-oh You-oh-oh-oh-oh You-oh-oh-oh-oh You-oh-oh-oh-oh

You say I'm just a friend to you Friends don't do the things we do Everybody knows you love me too I tried to be careful with the words I use I say it 'cause I'm dying to I'm so much more than just a friend to you

A friend to you A friend to you A friend to you...

She’d closed her eyes to sing the song; when Misty opened them, everyone else in the restaurant was still minding their own business, but Ash was standing. There was a funny sort of frown on his face, and a knowing look on Pikachu’s. A promising sign...

“So,” Misty said as she walked back over to them. “Whatcha think?”

He stared at her a moment, and cocked his head at that adorable angle he always used when confused. “That...wasn’t bad.”

“That’s it?” Misty laughed. “‘Not bad?’“

Ash shrugged. “Whaddya want me to say? I kinda forgot over the years, but - you’re a good singer.”

“Aww...that’s sweet, Ash. And what about the song?”

���What about it?”

Pikachu slapped a paw to his face, and Misty struggled not to keel over. “Did...did you notice anything about it?”

“Um...was that a ukulele at the start? Those sound fun.”

“You...it didn’t make you think of anything?”

“Should it?”

Misty just stared at him. Atop his head, Pikachu mimed pummeling it. That’s definitely an option, Misty thought. Along with kicking, screaming, dragging him up to read the lyrics, or just flat-out telling him...

“Misty? Was there something in that song I should’ve gotten?”

“...No, Ash. Nothing. Let’s get that ice cream...”

#z's fics #pokeshipping #aaml #satokasu #fan fiction #sentence fanfic

[ek-triptych]

Twelfth Day of Triptych Christmas: Christmas Day

//We have finally made it to Christmas Day. Merry Christmas, everyone, and thank you for joining us in Triptych’s Twelve Days of Christmas! This three-part special was written by both KV and El.

As the bright morning sun shone through the window onto Three's open computer, he looked up from his fruitless research to gaze out at the glistening snow outside. A marred world outside, once beautiful in the clear sheet of white now trampled over and uncared for, not that it mattered now. Three stood and exhaled to another morning of futile searching to find nothing that gave him any kind of useful information as to his past life -- or rather, the past life he would have had if things had turned out differently. Then again, it was useless to wish now, but then, what if…?

A quick knock rapped on the door before Falcon opened the door quickly. 'Hey! Merry Christmas!'

Oh yeah, Christmas. Three had forgotten about that.

'Merry Christmas.' He reached down to close his computer. Why does Fal feel like he's waiting for something?

'You coming downstairs?'

Seth looked at him in way of question.

'To open presents. You know... ' Falcon grinned. 'Christmas.'

Right. Christmas. Because everyone celebrated that. 'Right. Christmas.'

Following a still pyjama-d Falcon downstairs, Seth couldn't tell if this felt like a dream because of his lack of sleep or simply because of the simple bizarreness of it all. It was weird not only to be in a house with a family, but also to be observing a holiday, or anything other than something like finishing an assignment, and even then that had gotten nothing more than an, 'Oh, you're back.' Celebrating something, much less a holiday like Christmas -- that was something Three had forgotten a lifetime ago, assuming he had ever known it in the first place. To be observing it in this context felt ironically fitting in its own foreign kind of way.

'Merry Christmas, Seth,' Lawrence Rynn greeted as the two entered the living room with its modest Christmas decorations, and where a handful of colorfully- and mostly clumsily-wrapped gifts waited. Three sat down on the carpet and waited to see what would happen, though it took Falcon a couple of minutes in the kitchen to come out with mugs of hot chocolate before he said, 'Here's our hot chocolate. We're ready to go.'

He crossed his legs close to the miniature tree at his father's feet and took a noisy sip of hot chocolate before sticking the mug on the table and taking the liberty of passing out some presents. After taking a few of them for himself, he handed one to Lawrence, then handed a surprising two to Seth.

'Go ahead!'

Three looked down at his first two presents ever. Falcon exclaimed as he ripped the paper off a skateboard, then gave Lawrence a giant hug and a heartfelt, 'Thank you!' Seth pulled off the strips of tape covering the first little box, gently pulling back the paper to reveal the cover of cardboard that was obviously from some old packaging. He looked up at Lawrence, who gave him a slight nod of encouragement, before opening the box to find a slip of paper inside.

'A little bit of my research so far,' Lawrence explained as Seth pulled it out to read a list of names along with other minimal information. 'From what I have found and what you've told me, these are a few of your possibilities.'

Three looked up at him appreciatively. 'Thank you.'

Lawrence nodded in acknowledgement as Falcon urged, 'Open mine!'

Seth obliged, folding up his gift carefully to save it for later before again pulling the tape carefully off the slightly more carefully wrapped present. After a few seconds Falcon moved as if to rush Seth, so Three gave up and pulled it off with a pointed look at the impatient boy.

A strip of gray amidst a sea of black spilled out from the open paper, and Three pulled out the cloth for it to unfold into a dark sweatshirt with a high collar and long sleeves.

'Put it on,' Falcon prompted, grinning excitedly. 'See if it fits.'

Seth shrugged and pulled it over his head, sticking his arms through the warm material to find his hands caught in thumb holes, moving the sleeves automatically over his arms as he pulled it completely on.

'Thanks,' he said, pulling the hood off his head. 'It's really nice.'

'That's why I got it.' Falcon smirked. 'And it's got a ninja collar. Cool, right?'

Three couldn't think of anything particularly necessary in answer, so instead he just nodded. As Lawrence silently admired his new socks and potholder, Falcon began to tell the story behind the little present as Seth looked down at his two presents, not knowing what to feel as a mix of emotions threatened to break to the surface. Part of it was almost close to guilt at having received things so undeserved, but another part of it was definitely pleasure, and another part was the slightest bit of longing for… something. Never before had Three celebrated anything, and maybe this was the scratching of an itch he should never have dared to touch. Maybe, again, he had made a mistake.

But when he looked at Falcon's smiling face, and the way he interacted with his father now, part of him dared to hope that maybe -- maybe something could change for him. Maybe Three could become something more, just as Falion had come to find his own place in this world.

Falcon couldn’t stop smiling as he squeezed through the people crowding every nook of the Kelly’s house, his hands full with several paper plate piled high with food and a plastic cup of apple cider.  He finally broke through the final crush of people with a laugh, holding his plates above his head to keep them out of people’s way.

“There are so many people!” he exclaimed.  He passed one of the plates to Seth, who was sitting near the top of the stairs away from the main crowd, and plopped down on a step closer to the bottom, nudging Gabe with his shoulder to get him to make room.  Lily, who was perched happily two steps above them, high-fived him, and he gave a friendly nod to Reyn next to her as well.  Turning back to the main room, he gave a huge contented sigh and leaned against his best friend, taking a big bite of his pie.

“This is great,” he murmured quietly, green eyes flitting from person to person as he surveyed the room.

“What a difference two years makes,” Gabe muttered in response, “You used to hate parties.”

“Ugh, old me didn’t know what he was missing,” Falcon snorted. “Parties are the best.”

“Pretty crazy,” Gabe mused.  “Who knew that Falcon from two Christmases ago would turn into you?”

Falcon stilled, considering for a few minutes.  “...that wasn’t me,” he finally said contemplatively.  “That was Falion.”  Three, who could just barely hear from behind them, paused as he waited for Gabe’s reaction.

“Who’s Falion?” Gabe simply asked, raising an eyebrow.

Falcon laughed, leaning a little more against his friend.  “Exactly,” he hummed.

Gabe turned his head to try to peer at Falcon.  “Who’s Falion?” he insisted.  “Is that you?”

“Nope,” Falcon said, taking a swig of his cider and going back to people-watching.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sighing exasperatedly, Gabe dropped the subject and rolled his eyes, choosing to focus on the people wandering by as well.

With his best friend at his back and his other friends arranged along the steps, Falcon could feel a gentle warmth building in his chest, and a smile played along the corners of his mouth.  He gave a wave to his father as he passed by, and Lawrence reached down to ruffle his hair with an answering grin.  The feeling in his chest got warmer, and he found himself clutching his cup and staring down into his cider.

“You okay?” Gabe asked him with a nudge. “You’re tearing up.”

“What?”  Falcon lifted a finger and ran it along his eye, staring in bewilderment when it came away damp.  “What the heck?” he whispered to himself.

“Did you drink the eggnog?” Gabe asked flatly.  “You know it’s alcoholic, right?”

“What? I- no!” he shoved Gabe with a snort. “I just… I don’t know, I think I’m really happy right now?”

Gabe raised an eyebrow silently.  Falcon struggled for words, trying to express how happy he was to be here, how much he loved his friends and his Father and everyone in this room, how glad glad glad he was to be different than how he used to be: that sad and angry kid with too many scars who couldn’t even fathom the idea of family.

“I just love y’all,” he finally settled on, draping an arm dramatically over his friend’s shoulders.

“Sappy,” Gabe commented, but let him stay.  Falcon laughed and took another swig of his cider, grin wide as he basked in the warmth of the party.

At the end of the day Three sat in the dark on the bed in his new dark hoodie, looking out at the street lights through the window, though no one was driving at this late hour. The neighbors' Christmas lights blinked softly across the street, window lights beginning to blink out as everyone began to retire for the night. It was silent, bordering on lonely with the slightest twinge of regret framing the night as he simply watched.

A soft knock broke hesitantly through the quiet.

“Hey,” came Falcon’s voice through the door after a second, “want any company?”

Three didn't answer, so a few seconds later, Falcon opened the door and slipped inside.  He took a seat next to Three on the bed, gazing out the window as well.  After a few moments, he shifted.  “Y’know,” he began quietly, “I know how to get to the roof from the window. Want to go sit up there?”

Seth looked at him for a second. Then he said, "Yeah. Sure."  Falcon grinned softly and led the way, opening the window and pulling himself out by the top of the sill.  

“Just keep your feet on this part of the window,” he instructed. “That way you won’t slip.”

Three simply followed him up in silence, brushing away the snow with his bare hands before resting next to Falcon, socked feet getting slightly damp from the remaining snow.

The two boys sat in silence for a little while before Falcon flopped backwards, resting on his back and crossing his wrists comfortably over his stomach.  

“The sky is really pretty,” he commented.

Three looked up, propping his arms behind him. "Yeah."

“Just tune me out if you don’t wanna talk,” Falcon told him somewhat abruptly, not turning his head to look. “I’m really glad you got to spend Christmas with us though. I know it feels kinda weird. My first Christmas around here was an ordeal, let me tell you. But… still. Glad you were around.”

"Yeah," Three answered softly. "Me too."

That made Falcon turn his head.  “You are?” he asked, surprised and happy.

Three shrugged, putting one hand up to block the street lights to get a better look at the stars. "Well… yeah. It's weird being part of something you've always seen from far away but never participated in for real."

He paused. "Weird. But kind of nice."

Falcon sat up.  “Wow,” he said, “I’m so happy you had a good time!”

"Don't get me wrong," Three added, "parties are still stupid, pointless, and completely draining. But the rest of it… maybe isn't so bad as I always made it out to be."

Falcon chuckled.  “Christmas is a good season. Especially when you just absolutely nailed Gabe with a snowball. That was great.”

"Nailing you with a snowball was pretty great too." Seth laughed.

“Mmm, less great for me, but sure,” Falcon snickered.

"I still can't believe you hid a fully-wrapped present in the closet." Three shook his head. "I can't tell if you were trying to go with the gay joke, or you thought it was appropriate because it's a hoodie, or if you're just paranoid that way."

“It was tradition,” Falcon whined. “I always hide our gifts in the closet! Besides, I knew you’d try to break into it.”

"So you always lock your dad out at Christmas time?"

“Yes.”

"Think he'd be used to it by now."

Falcon shrugged with a grin. “I don’t know what goes through Father’s brain, honestly.  Maybe he’s just acting exasperated to humor me or something.”

"I wonder." Three stared up at the sky.

Falcon hummed contemplatively.  “Penny for your thoughts?”

Seth snorted. "It'll cost you more than that."

“I have…” Falcon checked his pocket.  “A quarter and half a candy cane.”

Three shrugged, pulling his legs up to rest his arms on them. "I don't know. All I can say is that it's weird. Like... watching some dumb TV show as a kid, and seeing everyone play their part in it, but knowing it's not real or not something you're ever going to have. Like the fake window you've been looking through your whole life. But when the screen is broken, you realise you were the one in the TV show, and everyone else has been living this life that you're going to have to play along with after just seeing it."

Falcon nodded to show he was listening. “Feels kinda bizarre and overwhelming?”

"Feels frustrating." Three looked at his hands. "Like I don't know what's reality, and I don't know why I should be playing this game anymore when the rules have changed this much."

Falcon hummed again and tipped his head back to look at the stars, just sitting in silent thought.

"I don't know if anything I do has consequences anymore." Three absentmindedly began to make a little mound of snow next to him. "The little things don't matter. You don't have someone telling you what's right or wrong or what you should be doing. And maybe I don't want that, but at the same time, what else has my life been? I don't want anything else, either. I don't know what I want. I don't know what the world wants. I don't know that either of us want any of it; maybe last year was a mistake and I'm not even supposed to be here."

“The world has always been out to get us,” Falcon commented quietly.  “Maybe it’s time for us to spite it.  Maybe it’s time for you and me to get up and tell the world that it doesn’t matter what’s thrown at us; we’re going to go out and find what we’re searching for and be happy anyway.”

"Happy," Three laughed. "Wonder what that is. If it's just smiling to ignore the fact that we're putting our heads down to work toward nothing, I'd rather not."

“Thankfully,” Falcon answered, “I’m pretty sure that’s not happiness.”

"Pretty sure it's what happy people do."

Falcon shrugged.  “Is it?  Gabe is happy, you know.  And he smiles, like, once in a blue moon.  I think I’m happy, or at least I’m starting to get there.  I don’t know what I’m working towards, or if there is anything to work towards, but…  I don’t know.  There’s something in this life more than just misery.”

Three looked at Falcon. "For some of us."

“For all of us,” Falcon answered firmly.  “But you’ll never find it if you never expect to find it.”

"And you expected to find it?"

“Not at first,” Falcon admitted.  “But after a while, you start to get used to the warmth and the love, and I guess I eventually realized that it wasn’t going away.  That I could wake up in the morning and hug my Father and hang out with my best friend, and life had something to look forward to and be certain of.”

"Right," Seth said. "Because I've got a lot to look forward to, and life is always so certain."

Falcon considered his next words for a moment.  “Believe me or not,” he said slowly, “but I think of you as my friend.  And you can be certain that I’ll be there for you if you need me.  I know you might not believe it right now, but I’ll keep working on it till you do.”

Three didn't answer for a good period of time. He just continued to look up at the stars, then at the Christmas lights all around, and at the snow frosting the sidewalks and rooftops. Though the silence extended for a good period of time, it wasn't uncomfortable as the two boys simply surveyed the world around them: a beautiful Christmas night restored from the snow that had begun to fall again during the eventful afternoon. The cold only just seemed to touch them as they appreciated the soft lights and glimmering snow of the deepening night.

After a few minutes, Seth finally sighed softly and turned a little bit to face toward Falcon more without actually looking at him.

"...thank you." He stopped again. "Thank you for everything, Falion."

Falcon grinned. “You’re very welcome, Three. Merry Christmas.”

"Yeah." Three managed a small smile. "Merry Christmas."

#Triptych #Twelve Days of Christmas #Christmas #Christmas Presents #Family #Friends #Seth Grayson #Falcon Rynn #Lawrence Rynn #Gabriel Kelly #Lily Meyer #Reyn Carter #Short Story #OC

[thesinglesjukebox]

ROSALíA - BAGDAD

[7.67]

And we close out our newly curtailed Sound of 2019 (Half-)Week with, finally, a song we like...

Joshua Minsoo Kim: So many striking images: a woman bringing her hands together and then apart, representing both hand clapping ("compás por bulerías") and prayer; a chorus that interpolates the melody of Justin Timberlake's "Cry Me a River," with lyrics about a woman burning; a woman leaving the titular adult entertainment nightclub, one where she was presumably a spectacle, only to be observed by passersby who are also oblivious to her pain. The confluence of all these ideas -- as well as the contemporary pop touchstone intermingling with traditional singing -- conjures up the feeling of eternal purgatory. The invoking of fire lends itself to this idea, and proves poignant since fire is a source of both pain and purification from shame and guilt: perpetual penitence, suffering, and rejection. In telling this story, Rosalía implicitly asks: "Why is any of this necessary?" "Why is this something women still feel?" This is a song about their paradoxical fate, a song about woman as neglected object yet unceremonious recipient of burden and blame. I'm not terribly fond of "Bagdad" musically, and find it rather unexciting as a standalone single. But in the context of El Mal Querer, it's a compelling and rich addition to the album's narrative. [5]

Thomas Inskeep: If Björk were a Catalan woman re-inventing flamenco music, she might make something sounding like this astounding and instantly memorable single. The music she's making with co-producer El Guincho isn't just ahead of the curve -- it obliterates the curve. [9]

Alfred Soto: "Bagdad" has promise: interpolating a melody from "Cry Me a River" into a song that becomes a response. But as much as I admire when artists mitigate sentimentality with distancing devices, the vocal distortions quash Rosalía's pathos. [5]

Crystal Leww: Do y'all remember that era when people were begging Justin Timberlake to make an album because of his half-a-decade hiatus? I legitimately remember watching a "comedy" video featuring grown-ass women talking about how Timberlake was essential because Justin Bieber wasn't grown and sexy. A lot of people said FutureSex/LoveSounds was what they missed about music, but in retrospect, it was Justified that was really full of the slappers. Justified was so good that Timbaland was coasting off the goodwill he earned from it as late as 2015, when "soundtrack by Timbaland" was seen as a real draw for Empire. It seems almost impossible for anyone to do something fresh and interesting with a song as dramatic as "Cry Me a River," which has been flipped and mixed so many times over the last decade and a half, oftentimes to lackluster results. But "Bagdad" is good! While the arrangement is scaled back, Rosalía stays away from what artists often do with pop songs of the aughts, which is to make it twee or sincere, and leans into the art ho within. [8]

Katie Gill: If you had me pick which 2000s-era Justin Timberlake song would have the most influence on multiple 2018/2019 songs, there is no way in hell I'd have picked "Cry Me a River." Thankfully, this interpolates it much more smoothly than "Without Me." Rosalía's high vocals soar over the song, mixing wonderfully with those backing vocals. Then the song just ENDS, but because of the haunting sound, that's okay! It fits the mood! [7]

Anna Suiter: The repeated sections make "Bagdad" feel like a hymn, but not like a pretentious one. It's got the awe part down pat, and in a small amount of space. You'd almost expect this kind of song to feel a little too tedious or overlong, but Rosalía knows exactly how long to stay. [7]

Stephen Eisermann: A masterclass in interpolation, Rosalía manages the impossible here: I went and revisited the awful "Cry Me a River." The way Rosalía weaves and warbles her voice in and out of the background choir and melody is ethereal and incredible, conjuring up the most magical imagery -- think pink elephants from Dumbo, but done more tastefully. That the lyrics complete the story of her first album is simply extra, because there could be entire essays written solely on her vocal intricacies and the melody. It's all perfect, and I can't help but succumb and become entranced. [10]

Nicholas Donohoue: My sister loves Rosalía. When we were together for the holidays, by the time it took to get from our house to the Christmas Eve Mass and back she gave me the crash course on all the necessary and supplemental elements to a full appreciation. "Bagdad" is a good example of how hooked anyone can get with Rosalía. The "Cry Me a River" sample is so forward, an immaculately layered concoction surrounds the hook, and the song is one part of a whole narrative in El Mal Querer, which itself is a compelling meta-story. It's an absorbing piece with so many entry points and as my sister and I have shown, many effective preachers and willing converts. [9]

Pedro João Santos: This is one of 11 tracks overpowered with tension and augury--in addition to jealousy, a wedding, relational conflict, ecstasy; the whole shebang. Yet the hymnal "Bagdad" manages the feat of upending the rest of El Mal Querer in the suspense criterion: its air heavy with hand-wringing gloom, a vulnerable Rosalía singing of deep heartache, the palmas and the piano forming an increasingly claustrophobic wall of sound, moving forward and closing in on whoever dares to listen. It's an everlasting thrill to behold. Even if the JT sample didn't bode well for me at first--it didn't help that it was part of an album so full of unexpected hooks, sinful dissonance and oddball mastery--it sounds affirmatively hers now, transplanted and rejigged for new pop life. [9]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

#Rosalia #pop #flamenco #music #music review #writing #BBC Sound of 2019

[justgotham]

The following article contains spoilers for Gotham Season 4, Episode 16: "One of My Three Soups,” which aired on March 29, 2018.

Writer Charlie Huston doesn't have a ton of TV credits to his name; he's written one Gotham episode, "Stop Hitting Yourself," and was the co-creator of the short-lived TV adaptation of Brian Michael Bendis' Powerscomic. What Huston does have, though, in addition to a background crime and horror novels, is comic book credits — he's written for Moon Knight, the Punisher, Man-Thing, and even Wolverine.

That knowledge of comic books and shows benefited him in writing his second episode of Gotham, this week's "One of My Three Soups," which is easily the most classically "Batman" episode Gotham has ever seen. It introduces the perfect blend of classic Batman elements while still maintaining the originality Gotham fans have grown to love over the years.

Here are some specific elements from "One of My Three Soups" and what makes them so great.

The Ultimate Team-Up — Batman villains go it alone sometimes, but nothing is more fun than a rogues gallery team-up. Gotham already found strength on this front when it realized Penguin and Riddler could be funny, exciting, and even sexy together. Same for Penguin and Ivy 2.0 (R.I.P.), minus the sexy part.

But nothing can compare with the moment in this episode where Scarecrow, the Mad Hatter, and the (maybe) Joker broke out of Arkham together and immediately began wreaking havoc on Gotham.

Whether it's Tetch's hypnotizing guards, Scarecrow making explosives as easily as toilet hooch, or Jerome just being Jerome, the escape from Gotham is so gleeful it almost harkens back to the Christmas episode of Batman: The Animated Series when the Joker flew away on a Christmas tree rocket.

The Bat and Cat Chemistry — It has always been hard to think of David Mazouz and Camren Bicondova in terms of a romantic pairing because, you know, they're kids. David is 17.

But even I, a middle-aged old-timer, has to acknowledge that "One of My Three Soups" finally proves a romantic subplot between this incarnation of Bruce and Selina can be done well and without seeming all that creepy!

We've seen Bruce and Selina fight off enemies together before, but never has there been an occasion where we've seen their methods and attitudes placed into such complementary and contrasting relief. Bruce feels responsible for Jerome still being alive to torment Gotham and wants to stop him and Selina just wants Bruce to be safe. Okay, AND Selina doesn't really think a Gotham full of Jerome-flavored chaos is very good for her thieving ways.

Which brings us to another important success...

The Dark Knight Rises — We've seen Bruce wear a mask before. We've seen him skulk into the night before. But this is the first time we've seen him do that thing where, like a rich ego-maniac with a hero complex would, he starts blaming himself for everything.

Bruce really believes Jerome's existence is somehow his fault. He can't kill Jerome, but he does feel like keeping Jerome in jail is his responsibility. I think this is one of the first times we see Bruce ghost on the GCPD, and specifically on Gordon.

It's also the first time we've seen Selina call out Bruce for having an extremely over-inflated sense of self-importance. Part of why Catwoman isn't a straight-up hero in the Batman mythos is because she doesn't really see a benefit in it for her or for Gotham. And she's probably right! If she tried to save the day every time, she'd probably wind up doing more harm than good.

And that's exactly what we're seeing with Bruce. Jerome would've been killed by his uncle, but, no... Bruce stopped it. And Jerome could've been shot by Selina, but, no... Bruce stopped it. Bruce has his Batman rules (no killing) but also an obsessive need to enforce those rules on everyone around him. It's Batman 101 and we've never quite seen it in the flesh on Gotham before. But we have now — and it fits seamlessly in with the rest of the show.

The Gordon Gotham Deserves — James Gordon, in the context of Gotham, has always come up short in a way that's frustrating to a lot of hardcore Batman fans. Gordon is usually the consistent one, the guy you know you can rely on to do the right thing, the hero that functions in the light so Batman can operate in the shadows. But Gotham's version of James Gordon has never been that guy.

Until now. And what's so great is how Huston makes the turn in Jim's characterization feel completely natural. Yes, Gordon is responsible for the Pyg coming to Gotham; yes, he lied to cover it up so he could get the glory; yes, he has killed.

But carrying over from the previous episode where Bullock told Jim he'd have to quietly live with his sins, we're now seeing Gordon act the part of the hero. Here, we see Jim being both leader and cheerleader to the GCPD, inspiring them to keep the city safe in a way he's never done before: jump off buildings and insists that, if Jim tells them to save themselves, they'll just leap anyway. At which point Gordon says something that completely redefines his character on Gotham: "Save each other."

Huston found a way to show that Gordon could be a leader with the quick wits to save the day, but, more importantly, that he's the leader who can inspire everyone else around him. That's something Batman can't always do, which is what makes Gordon so necessary in the Batman mythology.

The League of Assassins — Dealing with the League of Shadows (aka The League of Assassins) is tricky for many reasons, not least of which because it already exists in a different form on the CW show Arrow. Of course, there's also the fact that you're dealing with a Gotham City crowded with maniacs, many of whom also have superpowers. But here is a place where Gotham's ability to reinvent really shines.

Barbara Kean is already a character who's very different from anything we've really known of Barbara Gordon's mother in the past. Who she might become is an X-factor. There's been some hinting that she might become Harley Quinn, but now we're seeing an alternate option — that Barbara Kean might be the Demon's Head, aka Gotham's version of Ra's al Ghul. Which, for a show that often gives its women characters the short stick, is pretty darn cool. I'm not sure how Batman it is, but having the League involved is certainly a cool step.

Is this the best episode Gotham has ever had? I mean... neither Penguin nor Riddler are in it, so I'm not sure I'm ready to commit to that. But Huston has built something that plays from the comics, the 1960s Batman show, and Batman: The Animated Series in a way Gotham never has before.

And, it should be said that Ben McKenzie, who plays James Gordon AND directed this episode, has found the perfect degree of overacting to push his performers to a point that perfectly fits what Gotham City really ought to be (at least in this humble fan's opinion.)

#Gotham #Jerome Valeska #Cameron Monaghan #Jim Gordon #James Gordon #Ben McKenzie #Camren Bicondova #Selina Kyle #Bruce Wayne #David Mazouz #Jervis Tetch #Benedict Samuel #Jonathan Crane #David W. Thompson