#who's the cast ? who was eaten ? it's open to interpretation <3

[gcdhoods]

PROMPT 008

YELLOWJACKETS AU — for @nourflage

in which the murder™ is caught in a horrific plane crash and left to their own devices to survive a harsh canadian winter with nothing but the power of teamwork, girlbossing, and cannibalism.  

tw: graphic depictions of murder, cannibalism, blood, gore, & body horror. please read at your own caution! 

i know of a girl who is a doe in the woods, wide-eyed innocence with the kind of smile that makes hunters stop in their tracks, finger paused just above the trigger —

she reminds them of their hunger. desire to consume what they do not have. a stomach growls regardless of the beauty your eyes feast on in the forest she calls her home; animal-hunger, animal-grief when you stand over her dead body. you wear her doe-antlers that you gouge into the side of your skull in her memory, a twisted taxidermy of your body. an arching of bone like hands to the sky, reaching for a heaven you will not get into. murderer. you swallowed her whole so there was no body to bury, only a licking of fingers. they ask you how you survived the winter.

turn her corpse over in your memory. did you steal her face or were you born twin reflections? do her antlers weigh heavy on your head when the snow dusts the bone-curve of the new crown your wear like a lover’s hands on thighs, caressing?

don’t worry, dear reader. the butchering is mostly metaphorical.

the hunger is always real.

✢

“i’m fucking freezing. there’s no way we’re going to make it past october at this rate — which of us has the most meat on them?” there’s a curl in javi’s voice that indicates a turn of his lips, a permanent fixture to his features now; old humour turned cruel if not completely drained of him. “badr, you’re looking scrumptious, plus there’s enough of your stupid body for all of us to gnaw on for a few weeks. be a real one, yeah?”

last night, i saw you in a dream. in it, you were covered in the blood of a murdered city, but smiling. free. the night before, i dreamt of another one of us floating in the lakeside as it froze; summer to winter in a matter of seconds, trapping her like a butterfly in resin. the night before that, he —

in the bible, people had visions, right? like prophets and stuff?

in every dream, i wake up hungry.

winter is coming and there are twenty-four birds sit-sitting on a tree. point to them with your rifle, shoot in quick succession. more bone to add to your antler-crown, gore still dripping off the points. wear you like a memory, moment of silence before you reload with a sharp tug, one eye closed and the other squinting into the scope.

they did not make you a bird of prey so you learn to grow teeth, start from the belly until it ripples into every inch of skin. bone-god, death-eater. that will come later.

“there’ll be enough to eat.” you say it and no one believes you; body already too-thin and on the precipice of death. vulture-picked even before all this. they think this makes you weak when all it does is give you more space for a filling.

“we won’t have to worry about food again.”

in the back, javi: “what the fuck do they mean? what the fuck?”

✢

it occurs where most nightmares do: at a school dance.

we will make makeshift normalcies in the wild where we do not belong — ( where we return to, always, always ) — homes out of foraged cabins and skinny calves brushing at night, learn to fall asleep despite the spiders crawling on temples, despite the thump-thump of something coming, of hearts sending out morse-code warnings none of us know how to read. weeks, now, and it’s almost sweet how we’ve tamed survival into a kind of domesticity as the changing of seasons sits patiently on the horizon, us willfully ignoring it and winter on its hind legs, licking its lips as it looks at our warm bodies.

“you ought to wear your hair more, like this — doesn’t it frame your face so lovely?” isabele’s practiced beauty is something from an old life unfitting for this old world, glitter carefully smeared over behiye’s eyelids. none of the roughness of delilah’s palms, wariness of warden’s shoulders; signs of nature’s erosion of civility on our bodies but none on your once, almost lover.

behiye’s eyes are wide, expectant as they look at you. there’s a smile as you lean to her, thumb swiping across lips to spread the gloss gathered, gazes locking. despite the gentle grace you still carry, there is a forewarning in blackened hazels that only she will know.

we will ruin this too, won’t we?

“perfect.” whispered, slow curl of mouths around the word. turn it into a melody. isabele smiles so proudly, hands clapping as she bustles to here and there to fuss over decorations and dresses, blissfully naïve. how you love her. how she reminds you of —

homecoming would have been today, if everything was as normal as it should have been. in this nothing wilderness, you will make a normalcy out of anything: flat beer you rationed into old mason jars to sip slowly, dresses smoothed with pressing hands over wrinkles, bonfires you dance around to top 40 songs we try to remember the words to. laughter echoes into sunset, into darkness. the flames still flicker but your eyes stay pitch-black no matter how close you sit to the fire, hands outstretched.

winter waiting. hungry for the warmth of bodies, of innocence.

✢

the blade is eight inches long, enough to run him through twice over.

you hold the knife high over your head, all the skull-crowns you wear laughing at his writhing. in this version of the story, he does not get the peace of death after decades of running from your grasp.

you want his dead fucking body now.

body meet blade in holy matrimony, tender as a kiss when it pushes through skin, organ, bone, spine, skin again. bowstring across violins with the repetition of our body’s anatomy like a melismatic run across notes waiting for a crescendo ending, with the sawing that comes afterwards.

is there screaming or laughing? there is so much blood and for once, none of it is yours. you lick your lips and you taste metal, taste him.

you can hear the rest of them coming, know the sound of bare feet against the dead leaves of the forest you’ve made a home out of, hear their whoops and screams of laughter. joyous. when was the last time we were this happy? you gave them this.

those who are here to witness the first of many touch your arms lightly, remind you to rise over the body, as you should. chins hooked to shoulders, giggling soft in your ears, cheeks nuzzled to necks. babbled praises, more sounds and sighs than anything. nonsensical prayers. good enough for now, but later you will have to teach them of proper worship.

“eat. feast.”

you are a benevolent god, aren’t you? you meet their eyes one by one and they hold your gaze, ready. waiting. winter is coming. winter is coming. winter has lived in our bones for years and years now. no one moves.

“you first.” behiye’s voice rings clear, sweet as church bells on a sunday morning. there are murmurs of agreement surrounding her, you.

you smile wide enough to split your lips, your blood mixing with his. what is a god without their believers, so lovely in their listening? you stain your skirts red when you kneel before him in respect, head bowed for a moment of silence.

i wrote of cannibal-lambs once. did you catch it? did you see this coming?

when i said i was hungry, i never said it was for meat.

✢

winter comes and never goes. the heart in your hands is heavy, slit throats gathering snow in the gaping hole you left in her. this is all for love, i promise. this was always a love story. i don’t know how to write anything else.

you rest the stilled organ in the middle of drawn futures in blood against the frozen dirt, candles flickering and animal-bone, human-skull gathered and placed carefully. the others are circled perfectly around the sacred space we’ve made, humming harmonies from the throat. you let your eyes close, thankful. you love them so.

we thank you for your gracious offering. you will find immortality in us. we will carry you safe back home. tell heaven we will return one day.

you hold it high for them to see, hoods draping off heads as you tilt your head to the sky. one moment, two —

teeth meet flesh. were you waiting for poetry? there is only this: incisors digging into the soft meat of a once-friend, now-memory, now-ghost. you tear the organ, blood dribbling down chins. greedy devourings, breaths of frost red-tinged. can you see it? can you taste the fear under your tongue?

they ask you how you survived the winter. you tell them it was easy.

✢

#blood tw #murder tw #gore tw #body horror tw #cannibalism tw #i just. sigh. i need to stop advertising that i write shit like this then wailing about it afterwards when i write it. but. yeah ! #[ exhausted kazoo noises ] #anyways thank you all for giving me a safe space to write the most atrocious shit ! i'm sure there'll be more to come !!! #and i'm excited for more horrific tws !!! #ty to claudia to helping me sus out the cast and mori j and marie for listening to me go insane all of last night + today finishing this hee #and del ! sorry i was pretty insane last night. you can see the aftermath of it :) #who's the cast ? who was eaten ? it's open to interpretation <3

[en-hale-archives]

Me with You ~~

pairing ⑅ bestfriend!Jake x fem!reader

genre ⑅ friends to lovers, fluff, slow dancing, suggestive/smut

words/read time ⑅ 3.9k/12-19 mins

warnings ⑅ 18+ content, light cussing

synopsis ⑅ Jake is back in his hometown to spend time with his closest friend. During some fun and frivolous dancing, things start to heat up...

author's note ⑅ I’m really proud of how this story turned out. I'm not a huge fan of second person, so I wrote in first, but if anyone asks, I can copy and post again in second person. It's more fluff than anything, but it does get a bit steamier towards the end, so I’m just going to go ahead and put a warning.

————✧————

When the back door finally slammed shut and the cacophony of barks faded down the street, I could finally let out my sigh of relief that I had been holding in since this morning. I tapped on my phone. How many days had we been watching Mrs. Chen’s pets? And just how was I able to put up with hours of barking, the smell of fresh turd lying across the lawn, and dog walks till dark? Including their rigorous feeding times and bathroom breaks -- I’m surprised I haven’t exploded yet.

I had so much planned the minute they left my house, but instead, the sudden silence felt all too relaxing and I laid my head against the cold countertop. I could finally stop stressing, stop thinking, and stop worrying about reprimanding for chewing on my shoes or peeing in the house or the continued barking that never ended. I was free. I felt like I could’ve stayed laid on the countertop forever, drowning in the evening sun. Who knew watching five dogs would take such a burden out of a person. Jake and I had taken on the job of dog sitting for Mrs. Chen while she visited some family in Tokyo. We both switched off every other day; some of the dogs at my house and the others at his; until we realized it would be easier if he just spent the few days at my house as we co-doggy sat. He got up bright and early to take them on their walks while I prepared their highly detailed and specific meals. Then from there, we spent the rest of the day making sure they didn’t run off somewhere or cause too much destruction in the house. But alas, Mrs. Chen came back early from her getaway and picked up Toby, Caleb, Khao, Sofia, and Pickle on her way home. Although I was exhausted from watching 3-foot dogs all day, the pay was amazing for me, and it would help tremendously for all the online classes I was going to be taking next semester.

The warmth of the sun cast a comforting trance over my heavy eyelids, and soon enough I was fast asleep, standing in the middle of the kitchen with the soft sound of nothing surrounding me.

By the time I had fluttered my eyes open, I had realized I was now seated in my dining chair and a large black jacket was placed over my shoulders. I sat up and let out a yawn, wincing at the bright light coming from the tv and shaking my now numb arm awake. I must have been sleeping for a while because the evening sun had turned to pitch of black. The moonlight beamed through the window and danced along with the sways of the large oak tree out front. I stood up and walked over to the refrigerator in which I grabbed two water bottles and some leftover pasta.

I was sure that Jake hadn’t eaten since lunch, seeing as he only ate if someone sat food in front of his face. I dragged my feet up the stairs until I heard the slamming of a book and the fast typing of a keyboard come from the living room. I turned and looked behind me. Jake had settled his things on the coffee table and floor, large books, folders, and several amounts of crumpled up pieces of paper found their way around Jake, himself slouched up against the edge of the couch. He had changed clothes since the last time I had seen him, he now wore a plain blue shirt with grey sweats, his eyebrows furrowed as he worked hard on whatever he was getting at.

“Oh yes, I was starving!” Propping himself up on the couch, he took the plate of pasta. I placed the waters on the coffee table and settled comfortably on the couch beside him.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever seen anybody sleep standing up before. Look,” Jake took his phone off the charger. “I got a picture.” He pushed the screen in my face, and of course, there was my unconscious body laying on the counter, mouth open and all. I playfully pushed it back his way as his face lit up with a smile I was all too familiar with.

“What are you doing down here so late, it’s almost 12 in the morning,” I asked. Jake’s smile disappeared when he was reminded of the work he had been doing seconds before.

He let out a large huff of air. “Trying to get some words on paper but instead it turned into a paper massacre,” he jokingly replied, “sorry for the mess.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I replied, taking a swig of water. I was going to ask if he wanted to watch a late-night movie, or pull an all-nighter and talk endlessly until the sun rose, but I could tell by each passing second that Jake was worried about this, and he wanted the time he had now over the summer to work on his music. I wished I was motivated to work on my own music, but unlike Jake, I wasn’t in a globally popular boy band. My complicated best friend for over 10 years had been working his butt off since middle school. It was his annual time to sit back and relax while he had the time to, but instead, he chose to use that time to help watch a bunch of dogs with his hometown bestie. God, I loved him.

Jake pulled himself off the couch and right back onto the floor, leaving the rest of the pasta to me. He picked up his pen again and started scribbling down words as quickly as he could, trying hard not to forget the lyrics that had floated into his head. Until he stopped, closing his eyes for just a split second, and let out a powerful sigh. Crumpling up the sheet, he stacks it on top of the others in frustration and started frantically tapping his pencil against the table.

“Maybe it’s best to just try again in the morning,” I advised, taking a small bite of the pasta that was left by my side.

“How come I’m having such a hard time with this?” He gazed up at me frantically for a clue, as if I had the answer to fix a problem as big and as important as his was. I looked at his doleful eyes and the bags that were starting to grow underneath them. I couldn’t help but think, because I made you sit up and watch a bunch of dogs with me.

“Do you want me to see if I could come up with something?”

“If you want. But, hold on, I think my thoughts are coming back up.” He quickly grabbed another piece of paper, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

I tried my best to keep occupied by watching videos on my phone, but I found myself suddenly bored out of my mind. I laid out on my back and picked up one of Jake’s folders. Briefly looking through it, I couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous at the amount of fan art and letters, praising him and the other members. Followed with that were just more and more engene stuff, full of nothing but kind words and heartfelt messages. Part of me wished that I was able to travel with Jake and see the world like he was. How fun would it be to meet people that praised you? And how cool would it be to see that you had fans? I couldn’t help but plaster on a huge smile as I skimmed through some of the notes until I finally came to one with familiar handwriting.

Remember Me were the words written on the top of the paper in bold and bright colors. But the message written underneath is what caught my attention:

To the person that makes me the luckiest guy in the world, this song is for you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but please just remember me -- it was Jake’s handwriting.

I didn’t feel like I was breaking any crime reading his stuff until this moment, but curiosity killed the cat, and right now I didn’t mind being a feline. I checked to make sure Jake was still busy, and he was, almost like he had teleported into his own world. I quietly turned back to the sheet and started reading. It was about a girl, presumably his crush I’m sure. She was someone important to him, someone who made him love so much that it hurt. But this was far from a happy song, in fact, it was terribly heartbreaking. She didn’t understand his love, she wasn’t able to interpret it like he wanted her to. But he confesses that he was scared of what telling her would do, worried that she wouldn’t feel the same. So instead, it was like he was apologizing, and asking that she forgive him for not being brave enough to tell her, and if he did ever get the courage to, for her to remember him even if she wasn’t able to love him like he wanted her to.

The song ends like how the title began, and I find myself flabbergasted at the beautiful mixes of rhymes and metaphors that read like a poem. This was the first of Jake’s songs that made me feel this way, like I had just finished watching a tragedy movie with Ryan Renolds starring. I blink back the tears that I didn’t realize were forming. How come he never told me this? We never kept secrets from each other, like ever. It never mattered the subject or the severity, we had always promised that we would be open and honest with each other. I wish I would’ve known this sooner, maybe I could’ve saved him from feeling this way. And what girl could it possibly be? I knew for sure I was the only girl he was presumably close to; but was there someone else?

I glanced down at Jake, who was still in a focused state of mind with the pencil in his mouth and mumbling lyrics softly under his breath. I tried picturing my bubbly Jake writing these agonizing words and miserably failed.

Jake looked up at me as if he could feel my gaze on the back of his head. “I think I’ve found the chorus, but it’s the rest of the song I’m not able to get, and how come it’s so hard to find another word that rhymes with severe? Beer? Sphere? Revere? Appear? Gosh, rhyming sucks some serious ass!”

“This song is beautiful.”

Jake furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Huh?”

“This song I found in your folder.” I glanced back at it in my hand. “Remember Me.”

Jake’s gaze leaped from my eyes to the sheet, and I felt his body tense. “Where’d you get that from?”

“I was just going through one of your folders. Did you accidentally get it mixed up in your fan folder? Cause this is -”

“Did you read it?” He interrupted.

“Yeah, and it’s perfect.”

Jake glanced at me for a split second before turning back around, obviously uncomfortable. “I was watching one of those Kdramas you love so much and it inspired me. Could you help me rhyme with severe now?”

I knew Jake like the back of my hand, so I knew continuing on with this conversation would get him upset if he’s clearly avoiding it. But, I wasn’t going to just let him off that quickly. “Jake, come on, you can tell me anything. Who is this about?”

Jake looked back at me with a hint of something in his eyes, something I’ve never seen before, and something I wasn't able to decipher. “Nobody, I was just feeling really inspired, that's it.” His tone had switched from calm to agitated.

I give him my I’m-not-stupid look and he comes back with his own you’re-being-delusional stare. “It’s seriously nobody, truthfully and honestly.”

“Okay, okay I’ll back off.” I could tell he was starting to get defensive, and when he got like that, it took him at least a few hours before returning to normal. I watched Jake's Adam's apple move up and down, a way in which I could tell he knew I was not convinced in the slightest. “Well, sometimes we go through things that can remind us of situations like that, but not necessarily in that same exact context, you know? It has to be amplified for that audience appeal.”

“Okay...but have you ever felt this way before? Not exactly like how it’s written, but maybe somewhere along these lines?”

I thought I was going to get another vague answer, or worse, an aggravated one. But instead Jake looked down at his pencil as he tapped it along his wrist. “...maybe, but I think everyone can connect to the words in some way. I mean, everyone feels some kind of heartbreak in their life, right?” Jake's answer was still pretty vague, but at least I was able to get something out of him.

“Okay, but you know you can tell me anything, like, anything ever because you know that you’ll never actually have to feel this way, right?” I said, maybe too much in a hurry.

“Of course I know that.” He replied, giving one of his awkward grins.

“And if anyone has made you feel this way, then you know you can tell me that too cause there a sucker to lose out on a perfect person like you.” I teased in a sing-song way, poking his shoulder hard. Jake chuckled and poked me back.

A weird silence grew in the room, and Jake went back to trying to find rhyming words. I tried getting back on my phone, but I knew I needed to say something to let go of the tenseness in the air.

“Hey, crystal clear rhymes!”

He leaned his head back and looked up at me. “Nevermind, I give up for tonight.”

I could see the stress that played on his face. “Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, but by the time I do, it’ll be too late.”

“What do you mean?”

Jake pulled his knees up to his chest and spoke. “This was going to go on our album comeback that needs to be finished in the next four months. By the time I think of something, it'll be too late and I’ll have to wait until the next four months. But by then, I'll have forgotten. This always happens and I have no idea how the hell to fix it.” I couldn’t tell if he wanted my help or just a bit of comfort.

“Did you try asking the other guys to see if they had any ideas?”

“Yeah, but they’re working on their own parts, I can’t ask them to do this too.”

“I’m sure they’d be willing to help if you asked,” I assured him.

“I know they would, but I just don’t want to. I always ask them for help, I thought being away from the studio and being back home would help my brainstorming abilities.” He gave a weary chuckle that almost sounded like a groan.

“Well, maybe tomorrow will come with better results.” I did my best to give him some motivation, but I could tell I was failing miserably at that too.

Jake watched as a car zoomed past the window, a low bass sounding off as it zoomed away. “I bet it’s easier to just listen to music than to try and come up with it. I remember when I would just blare NCT all day long and jam out in my room. It seemed so much easier back then to come up with stuff than it does now. I miss it.” He took a slight pause before continuing. “ Did you know that song you read was the easiest thing I have written in my life? I remember writing too. I just had this super weird feeling in my chest one day so I basically locked myself in my room and took maybe two hours and just wrote a bunch of words down and connected them to sound like a song. For once my mind had just gone blank and I couldn’t stop thinking and feeling that song, like I knew what it was supposed to sound like, I knew what the lyrics were supposed to mean. I just knew everything. And I miss that feeling, that feeling of like- '' He broke off his sentence when he looked back up to my eyes. It seemed like he was talking more to himself than to me. He swallowed hard and looked back at the pencil still in hand.

“Well, I'm sorry you don’t feel free anymore. I wish there was something I could do to make you feel like that again-”

“No, please don’t feel like that. It’s just something that had just recently started happening, something I really just can’t fix…” His voice gets softer and softer the more he spoke.

“Have you spoken to your manager about it?” I asked. “He’s super nice from what I understand. And he’ll probably have better answers than your friend who can barely play the piano, let alone produce an entire song.”

Jake laughed before I had the chance to. “ See, now you're underestimating yourself. Remember that song from freshman year? The one about-- what was his name, Josh?” Jake teased. I grabbed a pillow and slammed it into the back of his head. “Oh my gosh, I thought we promised we’d never bring it up again!”

Jake chuckled and laid his arm on the couch completely turning towards me. “How about we sneak out and go get ice cream and try to not wake up your mom in the process?”

I suddenly jumped to my feet when I have the perfect idea on how to cheer up the gloomy Mr. Shim. “Or, we could do something even better!”

“Urgh!” Jake groaned.

I grabbed my phone and hooked it up to the speaker. I was going to turn on his hit song Drunk-Dazed as a joke, but Jake needed this break from his career, so instead, I crunk up Beyonce as loud as it could go without disturbing my mom who slept upstairs. I turn back to Jake and reach out for his hands, already moving my hips to the music.

He shook his head and threw it back onto the couch as if throwing a temper tantrum. “I literally dance for a living.”

“Okay but this will be different, I promise.” I grabbed the piles of papers on the ground and threw them in the trash, I then pushed the coffee table near the wall and piled his folders and books neatly on top.

“Come on, cowboy!” I grabbed his hands and helped him up. He was reluctant to get up, but he threw one last groan before standing on his feet.

“This will get the brain juices flowing again!” I told him. I go back to my phone and switch it to one of my favorite Beyonce songs that she covered, At Last.

I sang dramatically to get Jake to smile, and luckily, it worked. I placed both my hands over his shoulders and swayed us back and forth, still miming the song as overly exaggerated as I could. Jake still couldn’t help but smile, and it didn’t take him long to join me in the rhythm and sway naturally with me. I learned at our middle school dance that Jake had perfect rhythm. He was able to impress the rest of the crowd when he busted out moves from BTS. Everyone was impressed, including me.

Now we were on a steady roll. I accidentally stepped on his feet a few times, but it was fine seeing as I was wearing foam flip-flops and he was barefooted. After a while, the song switched and played another of my favorites that didn’t match our style of dance, but we still moved slowly to the beat. Jake tried twirling me, but since I have two left feet, I almost ended up hitting the wall each time and Jake laughed loud at my clumsiness. The moonlight from the kitchen had now switched to the window in the living room. It gleamed through and glistened on Jake like a spotlight, just like the ones on the stage did for him. In a split second, I was reminded that he wouldn’t be here forever, just like he wasn’t here for the past year. I tried to not let it settle on my face that I was scared to see him go again, so I played up on the fun we were having now. Jake looked like he was at ease; finally, since he’d been here, he looked genuinely happy and I wasn’t going to ruin that.

After another handful of songs full of laughs and giggles, we were soon sweating and taking deeper breaths than normal. Each song was different from the one before, but it didn’t stop us from sticking to our style of dance. Even with the simplicity of the moves and the slowness of the steps, I had to take a minute to relax. I hooked my arms around his neck and rested my entire body on his. I could feel Jake’s own sweat seeping through his shirt, But I didn’t mind the wetness that was now attached to my cheek. I thought he would act awkward and ask for me to pull away, but instead, he gripped tighter on my hips and started slowly moving me side to side. I let out a long overdue sigh, trying my best to match the steady breathing of Jake’s with my own. It was actually therapeutic: hearing his heartbeat in one ear and the softness of the music in the other.

I tried to continue our steady breathing together, but his had picked up a bit, almost out of nowhere. I felt the heat of his breath on the nape of my neck, and it made my entire body tingle in a way it never had before. After this sudden feeling, I realized just how close we really were. His leg hair tickled my legs, I could feel the bone of his foot connecting to mine, I could feel his thin waist against mine as well. I felt like I needed to back up, but instead, I couldn’t and continued to sway softly against him. A few seconds later, Jake’s hands rose a little higher, planting themselves on my waist and tightening their grip as if they were trying to pull me closer than we already were.

The sensation hadn’t stopped though, it clung to my body like my damp shorts did on my thighs. Sooner or later I felt pressure on the lower part of my stomach and thought for sure that Jake was messing around and wasn’t feeling what I was, which indicated that I needed to pull back before this feeling became too much.

This is so embarrassing. I thought. How could I let myself feel like this? How was this in any way okay? I finally pulled back, the sensation becoming too unbearable, and glanced up at his face. His pupils were large in a way I hadn’t seen before. His mouth was slightly open and a drop of sweat slowly traced down his forehead, onto his nose. That pressure I was feeling on my stomach had now doubled in force, and Jake's face had switched from calm and subtle, to alarmed and panicked...

————✧————

(part 2 possibly...?)

Thank you guys so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave any constructive criticism you have on helping improve my writing!

————✧————

None of the images are mine, They all belong to their rightful owners :)

#jake x reader #jake smut #jake scenarios #jake imagines #jake suggestive #enhypen jake #jake enhypen #enhypen x reader #jake fluff #enhypen scenerios #enhypen suggestive #shim jake #kpop smut #kpop suggestive #jake sim #jake #enhypen #!kay! writer #enhypen hard hours #new writers on tumblr

[songbirdsingingthings]

Pocket Watch - Levi Ackerman x Reader

A/N: I forgot to mention this! You are Erwin’s sister in this, but that doesn’t have to mean you are his biological sister! Feel free to interpret this fic in any way that you would like <3

WARNINGS: Angst, swearing, S3 spoilers, ends in fluff

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Hajime Isayama

AOT Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Word Count: 1.5K

It was dark outside, and it was pouring rain too. Even through the thick layer of glass that served as a window, you could hear the wind whipping with the storm and smattering the raindrops against the buildings. On the inside, where you were currently, was quite the contrast though. There was not a sound to be heard inside your quarters. The fire that once crackled in the brick laid fireplace had long since burned out and you hadn’t moved from your spot on the couch - your eyes still trained on the charred wood that once harbored a flame. You hadn’t bothered to check the little pocket watch that had been shoved into your pocket earlier that day - you were quite sure that it would tell you it was far past your bedtime, but you just couldn’t bear to see the familiar golden thing.

First it was your father’s, but then he was killed, so it was passed onto your older brother. Erwin. He held it and kept it close to him with pride every day since then, making note to polish it on a regular basis so that its glint always shone strongly. Now it was covered in his blood. It was probably dry now, possibly even caked to the little clasp so that it couldn’t open properly anymore. You couldn’t bring yourself to wash it off. You refused to even touch it. That moment when you saw the new cadet, you think his name was Floch, bring him upon that disheveled roof caused you to go silent. Your movements ceased as you watched your brother take labored breaths… dying. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the young members of the 104th division, Mikasa Ackerman and Eren Yeager, take a sharp inhale as they held their own dying friend. It was clear to anyone, that when the man holding the syringe that would grant life paused, an internal battle started to wage war in his mind. You don’t remember much - it was as if you were in a comatose state. All you know was that Erwin, your now dying big brother, reached into his breast pocket with what strength he had left, and shoved his little watch into your own. After that… a blur.

A quiet knock sounded on that measly wooden door that separated your office and adjoining bedroom from the rest of the building. You remain quiet. If they truly needed something, and were composed enough to talk to the girl who’s older brother just died, then they would come in without asking questions anyways. And that they did. The door creaked a bit and more light filtered into your office space through the opening, but went away just as quickly as it was closed. Footsteps made their way over to you and the person’s shadow was soon cast over you.

“Have you moved at all?” The voice was smooth and sullen. They knew the answer to the question as soon as they asked, you figured, but nonetheless it was spoken. As much as you thought you could answer, no words were able to be formed, much less a simple squeak. You simply opted to shake your head. With a sigh, they sat down next to you.“Have you eaten?” Another shake of the head. “Bathed?” You began to feel that your head would be moving like this forever if they kept asking you these questions. There was a beat of silence that passed through the two of you before they cupped your chin with their hand, rather roughly you might add, and wrenched your head so that it was looking at theirs. As soon as your Y/E/C eyes met his silver irises, you felt your body begin to thaw a little. Levi.

“My pocket,” you murmur, earning a confused expression from him.

“What about your pocket,” he says simply, his voice as gruff as ever. You come to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to bend to your wants, so you shakily reach your hand and grab Erwin’s pocket watch and drop it into Levi’s hands. Much to your surprise, he doesn’t recoil as the blood-caked watch meets his skin. Instead, he looks at it and then back up to you.

“Please take it.” Levi is quick to refuse.

“No. It’s yours, he gave it to you.”

“He would hate for it to be dirty, and we both know that you have a knack for cleanliness,” you quip, no humor present in your eyes. Levi huffs and takes out a little handkerchief and begins to gently rub away the dried blood.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. You stay still but your eyes go back to the charred log of wood.

“Levi,” you start but he is quick to interrupt.

“Y/N, I’m the one who killed him and now you’re giving me his prized possession. That makes me feel like an asshole.” He says, scowling to himself. As blunt as his words were, you knew he was hurting. Hurting like he was when his old friends were killed.

“You’re an asshole but not for what happened.” You say. “I… I don’t remember what he said.” You feel your eyes begin to well with tears. Why couldn’t you have cracked in private? Why did he have to be here?

“You mean before he…” Levi started, earning a nod from you. He didn’t know what Erwin had said either, letting silence grace the room.

“What happens when I forget?” You confess shakily, finally letting your eyes meet his again. Levi stops his movements and lets the pocket watch rest on the handkerchief, carefully placing it on the low coffee table in front of the two of you. “What happens when I forget what his face looked like, or what his voice used to sound like.” The tears finally broke from their prison and began to rush down your cheeks. Wordlessly, Levi brought you into his arms. Your cries became vocal now as you let everything out. No longer were you just the shell of yourself - no, you were now revealing it all to Levi. Your head fell onto his strong shoulder as your hands grasped onto his shirt, sobbing.

He could hear his heart break. Of course he was absolutely devastated at seeing Erwin, one of his closest confidants and last remaining friends meet his end, but to see you like this was a strike to his soul. You were like sunshine on a rainy day, as cliche as that might sound - always there to brighten his spirits on gruelling days when he was annoyed with everyone else. Now it seemed like you were one of those gray clouds up in the sky, void of the cheer you used to possess. He held you tighter and laid his chin on the top of your head. Levi felt his shoulder begin to grow damp but he didn’t care. Nor did he mind the fact that your dirt and mud stained hands were grabbing onto his pristine and newly laundered white shirt, surely making it dirty once more. Your cries began to die down a bit, now just shaky whimpers escaping your mouth. He presses a soft kiss onto your hair and moves his hands so that they’re cradling you.

“I’m gonna lift you up, ‘kay?” He mumbles. He feels your nods against his chest and stands, walking you over to your bedroom. You’re just sniffling now as he sets you down on your bed and starts to rummage through your clothing drawer, throwing you a new set of sleepwear along with a pair of clean panties. Much to your better judgement and current state of grief, you bark out a laugh. Levi turns around slowly, his eyes narrowed, thinking you’ve gone mad now. You raise your hands up in defense and shake your head, a small smile crossing your face.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… he would be fucking furious if he knew you were touching my panties.” You couldn’t help it now, you were snickering as you grabbed the fresh set of clothes. He gives you a deadpanned look, sighs, and walks out of your room.

“Just change, you brat.” He says, clearly tired. You slowly peel your uniform off of your body and let it pool on the floor. Stepping into the clean clothes slowly, you exhale and slump onto the bed and close your eyes.

“Okay,” you call softly. You see Levi step back in and make his way over to the side of your bed. He looks down at you, an unknown emotion swimming in his eyes.

“When the nightmares start, just knock. Doesn’t matter what time.” He says simply.

“How do you know they’ll start?” You inquire.

“They always do.” He murmurs, closing his eyes for a second. An unspoken agreement becomes solidified between the two of you as you hold his gaze. He gives you a nod before he leans down and gives you a soft kiss to your forehead.

“And what about this?” You ask, motioning between the two of you. Levi’s face remains neutral as he steps away.

“A conversation for another day.” You see his figure walk out of your room and into the office space.

“You keep that safe,” you say, regarding the pocket watch, “and clean.”

“Go to sleep, brat.” Levi calls back.

Just like Levi had predicted the nightmares did come, and didn’t stop for weeks on end. Both you and him had them about Erwin, and both you and him knocked on each other's doors when they came. But, whenever it happened, Levi pulled out the pocket watch so that you and him could listen to the faint ticking, letting you know that he would be with you, always. Although, he might not be as fond to know that you were all wrapped up in the captain’s arms.

#levi x reader #LEVI ACKERMAN #levi attack on titan #reader x levi #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #y/n x levi ackerman #aot #reader x aot #aot x reader #aot angst #levi ackerman x reader angst #levi x reader angst #levi ackerman fic #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi fic #levi fanfiction #levi fluff #fluff

[bbytarantula]

The theory about ‘Sukuna’s going to eat (or try to eat) Megumi’ has a high probability to come true

This theory is cross-posted on posted on reddit. Contains spoilers for non-manga readers.

I know that (some) people are sick of this, but I’d like to point out something I’ve noticed from u/bushwarblerssong's post about the urban legend that inspired Gege to create Sukuna, which I think supports the ‘Sukuna will (try to) eat Megumi’ theory.

Gege said he created Sukuna based on an urban legend thread that was posted on 2chan.

The summary of this urban legend thread;

> A construction worker found a 2 meter wooden box with ‘Ryoman Sukuna ??? is sealed’ written on it at the old temple his company was demolishing. Fyi he was the one who posted the thread, so I’ll refer to him as 2chan guy just like bushwarblerssong did on their post.

> 2chan guy called the former priest of the temple & told him about the box.

> The priest told 2chan guy to not open the box.

> Two of 2chan guy’s coworkers opened the box for fun, then they became sick (mute + dazed) & hospitalized (few days later one of them died due to heart attack while the other became mentally unstable).

> That box contained a mummy of two conjoined twins.

> 2chan guy called the priest again. The priest came with his son and took the box. 2chan guy asked the priest’s son about the mummy.

> Priest’s son confirmed the mummy was indeed a pair of conjoined twins. The twins were purchased by Mononobe who was a leader of a religious sect & then the twins got locked inside a secret chamber with other prisoners who also had deformities. They all cannibalized each other there.

> Mononobe was interested in the twins & wanted the twins to become the sole survivor, so he stabbed other prisoners before he threw the twins there.

> The twins survived & Mononobe turned them into a mummy while they were still alive (by starving them). Then he named them Ryomen (Two Faces) Sukuna.

And here’s the interesting part, quoting bushwarblerssong;

To increase the mummy’s power, Mononobe filled Ryomen Sukuna’s stomach with a fine powder made from the crushed bones of ancient “traitorous clans” (like the Emishi or Tsuchigumo) eradicated by the Imperial Court.

Doesn’t the Zen’in kinda fit this label? Since they are in the process of getting removed from the three great families.

ch 152

Maki and Megumi are also deemed as traitors by the Zen’in clan, and perhaps by the Jujutsu Society/higher ups as well. Because they’re currently trying to free Gojo. Plus Megumi is on Yuji’s side and the higher ups clearly see Yuji as evil/dangerous and they want Yuji (Sukuna) dead.

ch 148

Anyway, Sukuna has a mouth on his stomach so it matches the urban legend. I’m guessing Mononobe cut open the stomach of the Urband Legend Sukuna so he could stuff it with the bone powder, thus creating the second mouth.

cover for ch 117

A huge mouth also exists in Sukuna’s domain expansion.

ch 8

ch 119

His domain expansion is called Fukumamizushi (伏魔御廚子) in Japanese. Fukuma (伏魔) means a place where demons hide while Mizushi (御廚子) means the place inside the palace where the emperor eats or the kitchen.

The name of Sukuna’s DE can be taken as “Sukuna’s kitchen” or “Emperor Sukuna’s dining place.”

“The kitchen of all deaths is here!!”

His innate domain also looks like the inside of a stomach.

So far Sukuna’s innate techniques are all related to cooking (Knives; dismantle and cleaves/filleting*, and Fire; flames |*the kanji hachi 捌 also means filleting fish) and we’ve seen him talking about his enemies in cooking term. He even 'employs' Uraume because of Uraume’s cooking skill.

Q: How long has Uraume known Sukuna?

A: Uraume has known Sukuna for 1000 years. Uraume is a human who’s allowed to stand next to Sukuna because Uraume could make delicious food. Uraume is also a sorcerer.

Q: Is Uraume a chef?

A: Sukuna likes to eat people, but it’s difficult to cook them, or rather only few people have the experience, but Uraume is excellent at this.

This character introduction implies that the reason why Sukuna allows Uraume to become his (only) follower is because of Uraume’s cooking skill. Weren't Uraume a good cook, Sukuna most likely wouldn't keep Uraume around.

Also, let’s not forget that it’s also mentioned in the official fanbook that Sukuna finds the most pleasure in eating.

三枚おろし is a culinary term for filleting a fish (into three slices).

味見 means tasting. The fight is a literal taste test for him.

“A delicious death begins with a careful preparation.”

The motif of eating and cooking is heavily emphasized on Sukuna. Even the way he gains control of Yuji’s body began with eating (Yuji ate Sukuna’s finger). Moreover Yuji is also a good cook, he taught Megumi to make meatballs.

(FYI in Gifu prefecture, there’s a giant dish called "Sukuna nabe" or Sukuna stew. Apparently this dish can serve approximately 2500 people. Gifu prefecture was the Hida province back then. It’s said that people of Hida liked Sukuna & considered him as a hero because he defeated a poisonous dragon and a demon called Shichina)

These are the reasons why I believe Sukuna will eat someone later, or at least try to. I’m willing to bet a huge amount of money on this. That mouth on his stomach isn’t there just for decorating, it’s for eating.

And since his interest is solely on Megumi, it’s logical to assume Megumi will become his prey in the future.

I mean, who else fits this position beside Megumi? The other person Sukuna acknowledges is Gojo (so far only Gojo and Megumi are referred to with their full names by Sukuna) but that acknowledgement doesn’t seem to go beyond killing—revenge against Gojo for humiliating him in ch 2/ep 3.

IMO if Sukuna does end up eating humans again later, the very first person he eats would be someone whom he considers special, like a fine grade-A ingredient. Basically the human version of wagyu beef or bluefin tuna.

He wouldn't eat just anybody, at least not at first, because it's stated in the fanbook that "it's difficult to cook them (humans)." So I don't think he would reserve such meticulous preparation for random nobodies. Besides it'd be his first meal after a thousand years of being sealed, so it's gotta be special.

And for what reason? Why would he want to eat Megumi? And why not now? Why wait?

Like many others I believe he wants to absorb Megumi’s power or ability once Megumi reaches his full potential, similar to what Getwo/Kenjaku did with Mahito to cast Maximum Uzumaki in order to create his ideal world, and also similar to the Urband Legend Sukuna ("to increase power").

u/Astral_M explained this in their post about the body is equal to the soul, thus consuming the body is equal to consuming the soul. Quoting them;

Because Sukuna's fingers (part of his body == soul) were preserved, his core of cursed energy is preserved. And Yuji is evidence of a very important concept: Consuming someone's body counts as consuming their cursed core, inheriting their technique!

source: WAYA - Anime Explanation (min 5:01)

I’ve seen multiple versions of translation/interpretations of this, the most common one is “Sukuna wants to create his ideal world with Megumi” I’m not trying to be nitpicking here but this version contains a different meaning from the one I screenshot, because it implies Sukuna wants Megumi to work together with him...... and I doubt that's exactly what Sukuna has in mind. I'm assuming the one I screenshot is the correct (more accurate) version because WAYA is a native Japanese speaker.

Also I think it's worth to note that it's not Gege who said this, it’s the interviewer. Gege’s answer/respond to it was fully censored, so we don’t know whether he actually agreed with this notion or not.

The interviewer then said this (in response to Gege's bleeped out answer);

Another translation;

source: _zanzou_ 

I don’t think Megumi is going to die (or get eaten) early. It’d happen in or near the final arc.

Megumi either dies in Sukuna/Yuji’s hands (depends if they manage to separate, I'm betting Sukuna's going to merge with Yuji though, because it fits the theme; conjoined twins + two faces), or he lives, because clearly Sukuna wouldn’t allow others to kill him.

Thanks for reading!

TL;DR Sukuna will definitely (try to) eat someone later and that someone is most likely going to be Megumi.

#Jujutsu Kaisen #jujutsu kaisen theory #fushiguro megumi #ryomen sukuna #tw spoilers #jjk spoilers #sukufushi #cannibal sukuna

[arjuna-vallabha]

In the years leading upto the Battle of Plassey , Bengal was going through some extremely tough times . Accounts by contemporary writers describes vividly the problems faced by the common man .  This was a period when the East India company was gaining more political power . The true ruling class , the Nawab of Bengal and his aides immersed themselves in luxury and debauchery . On the other hand infamous zamindaars such as Devi Singha made life miserable for the common folk . And then there was famines , epidemics , droughts and inability to pay taxes . But still the people fought on with a smile on their lips . But even that seemed to disappear with the onset of Maratha raids into Bengal in mid 18th century . The “bargee” attacks , as they became popularly known , was so devastating and horrifying that they have been permanently etched in Bengali memory in form of lullaby songs . Even today bengali mothers lull their babies to sleep singing “ Sleep fast my child , for the bargees are coming ! The bulbul birds have eaten all crops , how are we going to pay taxes ? “But who were these ‘bargees��� ?The word bargee is thought to derive from Persian ‘Baargee’ which denoted a cavalry soldier . The other type of  cavalry men used to be called Shiledaars . The government used to provide horses and weaponry to the baargees . The shiledaars on the other hand had to source these themselves . In those times , the sultans of Ahmednagar developed the art of sudden stealth attacks , which came to be known as ‘baargeer-giri’ . This mode of guerrilla warfare was effective and gained massive popularity all throughout the Deccan , including Maharashtra . In the year 1740 Alivardi Khan defeated and killed his master and the then Nawab of Bengal , Sarafaraz Khan and himself sat on the throne of Bengal . But the brother in law of Sarfaraz , Naib Nazeem of Orissa Rustam Jung turned against Alivardi to avenge the wrong done to his brother . Alivardi defeated Rustam Jung and dethroned him from his Orissa office . In retaliation , Rustam Jung went to Nagpur  and sought the help of Raghuji Bhonsle , the then ruler of the region . Raghuji Bhonsle’s Diwan , Bhaskar Kolhatkar AKA Bhaskar Pandit launched an attack on Bengal with all his might . The raids continued for a period spanning 9 years and according to contemporary Dutch estimates , four lakh people died in the bloodbath . It devastated the economy of Bengal and created a period of anarchy and terror . The bargees gradually approached uptill the capital at Murshidabad and sacked the city and plundered the houses of the rich . The Britishers of East India Company on the other hand became anxious about a possible attack on the emerging prosperous city of Calcutta , their main hub . To deter any attack , they began digging a giant moat around the entire town . Luckily the bargees did not attack Calcutta and the work on the moat was discarded midway . The moat was eventually filled up in 1890s and made into upper and lower circular roads ( Acharya Jagadish Chandra Bose road & Acharya Prafulla Chandra road presently ) A certain poet named Gangaram composed a poetry describing the affairs of the bargee raids in his book called “Maharashtra Puran” . Parts of it describe the horrors faced by civilians in those times – “ They round up everyone and loot their gold and silver . They cut off the hands of some . To others they cut off the nose and the ears . For the rest they simply chop off their heads . The pretty ladies they take away and tie them up . Then they take turns to rape until they start crying to be spared . The set the homes of the rich on fire and destroy all the temples of Vishnu . They tie up their captives , fold up their hands and kick on their chest with their heavy boots . Those who have money give it to them and escape death . Those who don’t have money have no other option other than to surrender to death . The Brahmins flee with their sacred books under their arms ! The goldsmiths flee with their measuring insruments . The shopkeepers flee with their wares . The metal workers flee with their copper and brass . The blaksmiths flee along with earthen pot makers . The fishermen flee with their nets . Rich men’s wives unaccustomed to walking flee with loads over their heads ! The khetris and the rajputs also flee in fear dropping their swords . The gosais and the mohants of temples flee on palanquins . The Mughals , sayeds and sheikhs also flee in terror hearing of the bargees . The pregnant women are forced to deliver their child along roadways . “None managed to escape the wrath of the bargees. Numerous temples of Bengal were looted and plundered . Fables narrate how the iconic neem wood deity of Dhameshwar Gouranga ( Chaitanya mahaprabhu ) , worshipped by Bishnupriya ( Consort of Mahaprabhu himself ) also had to be buried for quite a few years to save him from the bargee raids! Such lawlessness continued for almost 9 years . In the end , the nawab of Bengal entered into a pact of truce with the bargees conceding Orissa to them on the condition that they would never return to Bengal . During such tumultuous times , the bargees reached upto the capital of the Malla dynasty kings – Bishnupur . Mallas have been a dominant power in that part of the state for more than a 1000 years ! When the bargees approached , the people panicked and started praying to the presiding deity of the town , Madanmohan . It is said that during this time people saw Madanmohan manifest and rush into battlefield ! He lifted up a giant iron cannon and started firing into the bargee hordes that were trying to enter the city . The cannon would later get the name ‘Dala-mardana’ or “destroyer of hordes” and can still be seen in Bishnupur . Madanmohan successfully defeated the bargees and protected his devotees . This tale has been narrated for centuries in Bishnupur and has become one of the popular religious folklores of Bengal .  But this Madanmohan is not originally a deity of Bishnupur . He is said to have been brought to Bishnupur from elsewhere by Malla king Bir Hambir .One source opines that Madanmohan originally resided at the ShriPaat Chaatraa of Srirampore . This was the residence of Kashishwar Pandita , one of the associates of Chaitanya . Bir Hambir brought Madanmohan to his kingdom and after installing a new deity of Radharani beside him , honoured him with the status of ‘Nagar devata’ of Bishnupur . The entire story raises some fundamental questions and doubts – The first question is , if the marathas are considered the champions of Hinduism and viewed largely as upholders of indian valour , why did they plunder and loot the Bengali temples  ?! The second question that may arise is , did Madanmohan indeed manifest and do this impossible act ? In order to answer this , one must understand that history is never unidimensional and one pointed as we tend to think . History has many complex layers . As the saying goes – “ history is written by victors “ . If we twist it slightly it would be safe to say that history is written by the privileged . Or perhaps , History is most often written with an agenda ! Therefore history , by its very nature , can never be complete nor foolproof . We tend to overlook the fact that in history two opposing ideas can also be true simultaneously . Therefore , every Brahmin need not be a tyrant evil oppressor nor every low caste an oppressed . Every deity taken away from a temple may not amount to a sacrilege and dishonour of hinduism . Taj mahal is not a name changed hindu shaivite temple . Gyan Vapi is not a mosque built on virgin soil . A thousand such historical over simplifications or agenda driven narratives have done more damage to true history than good . It is very necessary to have an open mind while discussing such a tricky subject as ‘bargee attack’ . I will lay down some points which will provide the readers with food for thought . But it is upto them to interpret why the bargees did what they did .1 – Bhaskar pandit organised a full fledged Bengali styled Durgotsav in Dainhaat of Bardhaman district . New pratima was built , new chandi mandap temple constructed and  thousands of sacrificial animals were brought in and grand preparations were begun . But in the night of MahaNavami , Alivardi Khan sent a message of truce and took Bhaskar Pandit into confidence and had him killed . The puja remained  unfinished . Even today ruins of the chandi mandap can be seen at Dainhaat . Understandably , Bhaskar pandit was not anti bengali or anti hindu per se and he embraced Bengali customs and culture . In this context it is worth remembering that the cult deity of Marathas , Tulja Bhawani ( from whom legend says Chatrapati Shivaji received his sword ) is also an image of Mahishamardini . Presumably , the marathas quickly saw the sameness in the rituals and ideas and were glad to adapt . 2- Just like the Mughal army had hindus in their ranks or the british indian army was largely constituted of the Indian soldiers , in the same way the bargees also had men of all castes and religions in their ranks . They even had large battalions of muslim men . It would be unfair to expect that the Islamic bargees would be respectful towards bengali idolators and their practices . 3- human ethics and moral values have underwent massive changes in recent times .  In ancient times , we did not have human rights commission , supreme court or the like . Survival of the fittest was the mantra for the times . In an event of attack it was normal for the army to indulge in plunder and loot . The rulers unofficially allowed their men to have a free hand in ‘exploits of war’ after a hard earned victory . This was a sort of incentive for the men ! Remember in those days warfare had more to do with brute strength and direct combat than with intelligence as it has become nowadays after advent of computer controlled war machinery ! During such post war plunders , rape , looting , rampage and selling humans into slavery became the norm .This was true for the entire world throught history !4 – The temples in Bengal which harbour tales of bargee attacks are mostly vaishnavaite shrines , namely Radha Krishna or Gouranga ( Chaitanya ) temples . Both these divinities would have been unknown to the Marathas whose own brand of Vaishnavism were centered around Vithhal , Rukmini and Satyabhama  . It is possible that unknown gods attracted more wrath .5- But interestingly the marathas were also one of the chief patrons of the Puri Jagannath temple . The hati vesha or Gaja vesha of Jagannath was directly due to Maratha influence over Jagannatha cult .  The  form of Jagannatha too would have been largely unknown to the marathas . That being said , they would have definitely been aqquianted with the tirtha mahatmya of Puri and the name of Jagannath from the puranas and scriptures . 6- In all probabilities Bhaskar Pandit did receive some support from the local hindu populace . The records of his durgotsav mentions throngs of villagers coming to participate in his puja . Presumably , there was both an element of fear and awe working amongst the masses . 7- It is hard to answer whether Madanmohan manifested in form or not , from a point of view of history . Such things are matters of faith and are best left untouched by history ( or even historians ) . However if we introspect purely from a historical perspective some hypothetical probabilities may be suggested . In hindu society when a man narrowly escapes a danger , he often attributes his miraculous escape to the mercy and compassion of his cherished deity . Its common for such a bhakta to say – “ I got saved due to intervention or madanmohan “ . It is very much possible that the Malla dynasty kings who ruled over a jungle infested tricky terrain and whose subjects largely comprised of martial races and tribes , overrun the bargees by their military strength and the pious king attributed the win to the mercy of Madanmohan . In due course of time this popular way of saying aqquired more realistic and literal connotations and became etched in collective memory as madanmohan manifesting in person ! Just a “what if” …. but worth a thought nonetheless !8 – It is also possible that the bargees themselves chose not to attack the malla kings , who in any case had been famous as champions of Hinduism for the last 1000 years . I have laid out the points to contemplate on . It is upto you to draw the final conclusion . History is never straightforward . All we can do is record and mention the loose ends . If the ends meet , well and fine . If they do not , it is best to be honest and admit that history is unclear thereafter  , rather than to try make them meet by force and end up projecting a personal political or sociological agenda unto history . But even after so much , the people of Bishnupur could not keep their beloved Madanmohan in their town . Malla Raja Chaitanya Singha got into a financial debacle and had to take a loan of a thefty sum of money from rich zamindar businessman Gokul Mitra of Calcutta . By this time , the sun had already began to set on the glories of Malla dynasty and Calcutta had begun to emerge as the next economic and political capital of India . In exchange of the money , Chaitanya Singha mortgaged his nagar devata Madanmohan to Gokul Mitra . When Malla king was unable to return the money back in due time ,  Madanmohan was left back at disposal of Gokul who went to build him a grand new temple . Even today visitors to Kumartuli in Calcutta can see the grand temple of madanmohan built in typical greaco roman neoclassical colonial style . At Bishnupur a replica deity was installed which also got stolen a few decades back . A second replica of Madanmohan is presently housed in the original temple back at bishnupur . So did Madanmohan really manifest ? Well, the eyes of a rationalist seek out different things from the eyes of an artist . To an artist , his divine manifestation is of much more importance because it has ‘rasa’ . It has the power to soothe the mind and senses from the drudgery of daily monotonous existence . To the artist , the supernatural is more appealing than the natural . But then again it is the ‘natural’ that gives birth to the ‘supernatural’ .  In this painting I have strived to bridge the gap between the two with the string of bhakti . Jay Madanmohan .

Text an art by Halley Goswami

#Krishna #hindu art #bengal #vaishnavism

[wonderlandmind4]

What If...? Episode 5 spoilers ahead.....

you’ve been warned:

FIRST OF ALL, Marvel had no right making animated Bucky that fucking beautiful!!! (I have a track record of having crushes on cartoon characters DONT YOU KNOW THIS!?)🥵

Second......was that it? Bucky gets yeeted and that’s the last we see of him!? Is he dead!? Is that left up to interpretation??? Does he just get left behind and taken/eaten by the zombies and he is now a zombie too? WHY WAS IT SO OPEN WITH HIS FATE?

But also, halfway through that episode, I started resigning myself to seeing Bucky possibly die, AGAIN, on screen. So, I’m glad we didn’t actually see his death, and that it could be up to your interpretation. BUT STILL.

Third, whew. Listen, this episode was another tough one even though it had its humor in the right places. But fuck, the last 3 episodes have been pretty dark 💔(Dr. Strange’s was the darkest) and sad. We had to watch both Sharon and Okoye die? Sharon possibly cast aside? And then there was Hope :( And Bucky having to fight off Sam, and then Steve, and although there didn’t seem to be too much sadness there, it still had to be hard for him to essentially kill “Steve”🥺

And the literally hope and optimism of Peter Parker, oh my heart. And T’Challa! What Vision was doing, like why not just help them all in the end instead of ripping the stone out of your head, because that did nothing in the end.

Anyone who has read or has some knowledge of that Avengers!Zombie comic book knows that it did not end well...at all. It was gross and dark and gruesome and horrific and a sad “the earth is doomed” ending. So the end of this What If...? episode was basically that? We don’t see it on screen, but the we’re suppose to assume the world is cured....JUST to have Thanos fuck it up right after, or it doesn’t get cured and it was always doomed from the start. Either way, a horrible ending that just makes me so sad.

While yes, I do think having this animated show has allowed Marvel to be darker and more gory, I hope the next episode will be lighter.

PS: Naked animated Bucky Barnes, thank you. (well, nearly naked.)

#what if spoilers #what if...? spoilers #what if #what if...? #Bucky Barnes spoilers #animated!bucky #animated!bucky spoilers

[sunflower-witch27]

Why I think “Rocketman” is one of the best movies ever

So my new go-to movie on bad days is “Rocketman”. I strongly connect with this movie even though I personally have not experienced the vast situations that our beloved Sir Elton Hercules John has gone through in his life. That being said, here are the things I want to massively bring to light (obviously from movie stand point). These are my personal opinions and interpretations, don’t hate me. Disclaimer: TW and *River Song voice* spoilers!

TL:DR “Rocketman” covers a vast array of subjects that I feel should be allowed to be openly talked about more in order to rid of the harmful associations and mentality associated with them, while having great scenes and people who played a part in the life of an amazing musician and person. Just overall amazing; if you haven’t seen it, watch it. 

#1: He understands the struggle to open up.

One of the first things Elton says when he shows up to the facility is to make a joke (natural defense mechanism) but then says, honestly, “I’m here because I want to get better.” I struggle with depression and anxiety and one of the hardest things I’ve ever done was admit “I need help. I want to get better.” Just having that be the beginning of the movie is so strong and I feel allows those in the audience to realize that there is nothing wrong with seeking help. It helps break the backwards mentality regarding mental health issues and mental healthcare. 

#2: The relationship with John

Honestly this one hit hard for me. I was lucky to never have a form of abusive relationship, but I’ve had family and friends be in relationships that seem ok on the surface but when time passes and situations occurred that made them realize that they weren’t entirely loved and being abused either physically, mentally, or emotionally. Even when John punches him before the concert at the Albert Hall, Elton ends up staying with him for a bit longer before deciding that he had enough, and because he was still his manager, John still was stuck in his life, even if he was a constant presence, which makes it harder to break free from an abusive relationship (physical or otherwise). His words to John when he sees everyone at the end: “I was holding onto something I never had in the first place”. That’s always the hardest part, realizing that no matter what you thought or felt, someone never cared for you the way you thought they did. 

#3: The “breaking down” of Elton at the facility

Honestly I think this was one of the best cinematography decisions of the movie. As we go through the movie, we see all the events that Elton goes through in his life and rise to fame, and when the storyline goes back to the facility and group meeting, he loses a bit more of the outside persona that he hides himself in as an artist. He moves from the outfit he shows up in, to having nothing but a bathrobe, to wearing comfortable clothing so we can truly see him as a person. Then, after Bernie comes to see him and give him music, we see him become himself again. 

TW: #4: Elton’s “campaign to k*ll himself”

So this one is rather difficult. I haven’t reached the point in my depression where I wanted to “unalive” myself but I have many friends who have struggled with that feeling (and unfortunately a couple who carried it out). When Elton and Bernie are at the restaurant and Bernie says “campaign to kill yourself going well, I see” makes me think about how destroying one’s self isn’t just self-harm and suicidal thoughts; it puts the focus on unconventional ways, such as bulimia; sometimes it’s not eating at all. I know I’ve had days where my depression is bad enough that it tells my body not to eat. When my partner asks if I’ve eaten and I say “No, I don’t feel like eating”, that’s my depression telling me not to eat. In “Rocketman”, we see various amounts of substance abuse, but we also see a side that isn’t immediately thought of when our bodies try to think of ways out. 

#5: “What were you like as a child, Elton?”

This one was also interesting to watch because you can tell yourself, “yeah, I had a good childhood” and yet we look back and we see that sure, we were cared for as a child but we also see the parts that essentially f*cked us up. For me, it was realizing that me being “little shy and quiet Emma” was actually me with anxiety and having at least two months of severe depression when my teacher died in 5th grade. For Elton, it was realizing that he was never truly loved and trying to obtain love wherever he could find it. Obviously not every parent is perfect; I have great parents but looking back, I wonder if they knew or just didn’t accept/care about it. What happens to us as children shapes us as we get older, sometimes those things we can’t see or understand until we’re older and understand our actions on a deeper level. 

#6:  The cameos of actual Elton John outfits

Another amazing show of cinematography was having subtle nods to the various outfits worn by Elton John. Some were obvious, like the “feather” outfit, the queen, the various glasses, and the baseball suit; some weren’t as obvious like the multi-patch jacket, which we see at Mama Cass’s party, and his robe that he wears when he plays “Your Song” (i think of the Christmas commercial for John Lewis in 2018). Whether he was performing or just doing a short scene, having Taron wear the multitude of outfits offers a nod to Elton’s fashion. 

#7: Raymond 

I have so much love for Ray; he literally pretends to be the boss man and works hard to give Elton (and in turn, Bernie) a chance to have their songs played. When they go to LA, Bernie is all ready to make his friend comfortable and was ready to go talk to Doug about refunding everyone and Ray comes in and yells at him and (honestly, I’m guessing out of sheer spite and a “you f*cking what mate?” feeling) Elton pulls himself together to perform his first night at the Troubadour. Of course, my absolute favorite scene is him singing and dancing in the control room while Elton and Kiki record “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” because in that moment, Ray is literally everyone. Then when John shows up, I feel like Ray is obviously trying to not let Elton tangle with John because I think he knew that John wasn’t good for him. Of course, Ray’s final line to John...”Your very expensive painting is upside down.” Regardless of whether it was or not (I don’t know) but I love how it kind of messes with John’s mind a bit; he glances at it and you can tell he’s thinking “God f*cking dammit, is it upside down?” 

#8: The fact that it’s set up like a musical

I love music biographical movies (”Bohemian Rhapsody”, legendary and so well done, like seriously) but for Elton John, the only way to do justice was as a musical. And it delivered. 

#9: “I’m Gonna Love Me Again”

The song for the ending credits, after “I’m Still Standing” (which honestly, was the only song they could’ve done for that sequence) just spoke to me. Throughout the movie, we see Elton going through all these situations in life where he constantly doesn’t feel loved and that he will never have that whole filled in his life. He does and the song at the end just I think sums it up; I’m gonna love me again. 

#10: Taron Egerton as Elton John

Enough said. Also, my sister predicted it even before casting was announced. I swear she’s psychic. 

#rocketman #elton john #elton and bernie #taron egerton #music

[42eyeballs]

a continuation of the biblical parallels ive found in tma but it got way too long

Bereshit starts with the beginning; God calls the (added) expanse Sky... and there was...a second day... and God saw that this was good. And God said, "Let the earth sprout vegetation..." The earth brought forth vegetation: seed-bearing plants of every kind... and God saw that this was good. (1:8-12) An inverse would be a change in sky (look at the sky. It’s looking back) to show the end of the world (the apocalypse), and if fear is to be taken as a type of sustenance surely then the mention of vegetation of every kind would be akin to the ritual of which brought all the Powers through to the new world at once (180), creating a fertile land full of fear to devour. 

It is noted that the world was created before Adam was placed into it (2:8)! Creating a slight shift in timelines for their beginnings, paralleled by Jon staying within the cottage for his chrysalis, staying there until he emerged as an adult insect (?). Insect imagery aside Adam was created and placed into his Eden as a full adult, as so is Jon.  “This place wishes to be our tomb. But the Eye does not wish that. No, the Eye wishes instead that it be my chrysalis.” (162) Which has an implication that it was always meant to be a stage to pass through, similarly there are interpretations that the Garden was always meant to be an intermediary stage humanity was meant to grow out of (along with a few other things). If there is the cottage, there is the Garden; if there is the world outside of Eden, there is the world wracked by the apocalypse. 

The cottage is this false artificial refuge from the other parts of the world. Eden was this prison of everything the couple may have needed. 162 describes the cottage as a place “deep in the heart of fear, where [they] trap [themselves] and claim that it is safety… a rotten sanctuary of lonely companionship” and yet is small enough that “the one [Jon] loves is always near, so close that refuge sometimes feels a prison.” Eden is a sanctuary where the only one to talk to and lean on is a lover; the world will rage on but this small bubble will never change, just wait for when they are ready. 

There’s also an interesting inversion with Eden being given to have this motif of having been created and alive, all of which from the perspective of the setting is very passive, and the Extinction being active in its creation; it will seek to create a lifeless world. Some interpretations suggest it might replace us with something new - that can then fear annihilation in turn, which has a similar flavor to Spinoza’s idea of a substance that desires only it’s existence - said substance only wants to be itself, it wants to be eternal. Such is inscribed into it’s very being, and yet there are different modes of the substance that exist differently. Oliver calls himself a death prophet, and says he has knowledge of death but not an understanding of what to do with it or why (121); Jon who watch[s] and know[s] and understand[s] none…  listen[s] and hear[s] and [does not] comprehend (160) is a fascinating parallel in structure of Spinoza’s idea of prophets that are gifted with knowledge but not understanding - knowledge that is gifted to them via some mode of the substance.

    There is also a period of time before the creation of Adam and the giving of life to him, and if we are to take research Jonathan as being in his insectoid egg, and archivist Jonathan as being a sort of larva that has yet to reach adulthood in his chrysalis, then this is the period of larvae. He is alive but not fully peaked in his awakening as an avatar. He does not yet see and is not yet fully living as such; the shift being when he shifts in his hospital bed and begins to breathe again (121), a parallel to when God blew into Adam the breath of life, and man became a living being (2:7). Jon, about two months after living again, takes out a bone, specifically a rib, specifically specifically something he won’t miss, for an anchor (131), and jumps into the Buried. Why specifically a rib? It is the same bone as the one God took out of Adam to bring him Eve (2:21), though she had not a name until after they had already left the Garden. Adam had all the world’s array of animals and wild beasts to choose from and yet none were a fitting partner; the Hunt has an affinity towards predatory animals, one could say wild beasts. This is where Daisy fits in. Martin had not yet been brought to Jon yet at this point, and slotted between the place between being Alive and Partnered is Daisy who is not his wife and who is not his partner and who is, or was and will be, a wild beast (2:19-20). Martin, who has very aptly been called Jon’s actual anchor to humanity, and Jon’s actual anchor out of the Buried,  placed dozens of tape recorders (132, 134) on top and around of the coffin, waiting for Jon. There is no hard evidence that says that without Martin's actions, Jon could not have found his way out again, but there is the implication because he does lose the presence of his rib while in there, only to be reunited with it after Martin has placed the recorders. This actively associates Martin with being Jon’s anchor instead of the rib, swapping their places. A bone for a person. 

    Jon goes into the lonely for Martin, and is able to find him and, more than that, bring him back (159). They are together despite the Lonely saying that to live is to be alone. They are together, and they link living (as opposed to surviving) to loving (be it in whatever form it may) (159), similarly there is God’s statement of how it is not good for man to be alone (2:18). Martin can be heavily associated with an Eve persona now, and he continues the role in the cottage by giving Jon the statements.

    God said not to eat of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and bad (in some translations); Jon, as soon as he knew what the statement was, knew it was bad, knew he did not want it, he knew he should not read it. Statements have been written to become more equivalent to food as the plot goes on, accumulating into this final statement, this final fruit of knowledge, where the world then goes topsy turvy and flips on its head. This is where there begins to be a massive inversion of the parallels, not a diversion but more of an opposite in sides. If Adam were to eat the fruit of the tree of knowledge, his “eyes [would] be opened and [he would] be like diving beings,” (3:5), same goes with Jon and his statement, but Adam was also told if he eats the fruit, he would gain the ability to die (2:15-17). Jon  wouldn’t gain the ability to know good and evil, he already had that, however little he may have used it. If anything being so close to such a source of power made it harder for him to determine what is good, and what is evil (171, 174, 166, etc.), along with the added bonus of not really being susceptible to death, but oh does he gain raw knowledge. 

    Eve, of course, is told to eat the fruit by a snake, and Adam eats the fruit that Eve gave him; interesting then that Elias puts his false statement in with real ones to be delivered to the cottage (the fruit in the Garden) for Martin to give to Jon (Eve to give to Adam). This also equates Elias to a snake which is wonderfully appropriate. There’s also this small line where Basira said that she would just send a bunch of statements because she wasn’t sure which ones he has already read, not that big of a line but it does imply that there was likely some statements that he had read, and at least one that he hadn’t (Elias’); there was also likely two trees of which Adam has not eaten from, until the end, the tree of knowledge, but there is also a tree of life. In reading the statement, Jon invokes the line “I am to be a king of a ruined world” (160); Adam was meant to rule over and master what filled the earth, the fish of the sea, the birds of the sky, all the living things, but his world was meant to be one of joy and prosperity, and this carries over onto Jon who does see beauty and wonder in the world that is. 

    Adam and Eve aren’t immediately cast out, they first hide themselves from what they have wrought upon them; Jon too, hides from what was wrought upon the world, until he doesn’t and he is filled with hatred and anger. Eve, too, was filled with anger and enmity for the snake, which presumably Adam shared but the text isn’t specific, but Martin was already ready to leave if not angry. So God banishes them from the Garden, to “till the soil from which he was taken,” (3:23) and on one hand this is to make it so that humanity cannot have both the knowledge and immortality, but it also acts as a way to say that humanity has grown enough to leave the house of their childhood, that Jon is ready to leave his chrysalis. The banishment from Eden is also the destruction of Eden, as it no longer has anyone to tend to it, as was Adam's original purpose; Eden, being the only place Adam ever was, his whole world, then being destroyed, even if he was not able to watch it actively happen. Elias, too, forces Jon to destroy the world he has lived in (180), and he passes out, only being able to see the result of him reading the statement. But more so, Adam and Eve were afraid after they knew (3:10).

    They walk through the door of the cottage, and the gates of the Garden, into the world that is now theirs to do with what they will. Adam and Eve have death slowly approaching, but it is not here yet because despite what most translations say, they do not immediately die, death, and the End, is very patient (121). And the biblical couple propagates, and births Cain and Abel. Cain kills Abel, and is cursed to become a ceaseless wanderer on Earth, which interestingly is what Jon is doing, slowly wandering towards the Panopticon, but Cain is also marked, so as to allow for him to wander without fear, without being killed despite what others (what others I don’t know) may want (4:12). Jon, too is cursed with life, and he cannot likely be killed by just anything, but the curse says nothing about hurt, which is where how Daisy could hurt him makes sense (179) despite what he might have intuitively thought. 

    Time goes on, and God regretted what she had made, and her heart saddened (6:6), which is right before the Flood. If we stretch to say that the plot will continue to follow this path, and it may due to it being said that if there were a removal of the Fears the Earth would go back to normal, similarly to the Floor getting rid of all but a few select humans. 

    This leaves the questions: who plays the role of Abel? It may well be Lukas, but I’m not sure as Abel also carries farm animals including sheep and perhaps cows as iconography, but he was also meant to be the second of a pair to Cain; if the Flood is to happen, who will be saved? Who will be left to die? The nephilim already have some kind of divinity, which has been sprinkled around with the Fears and Jon and God, but where do they lie?

    One last thing to mention is the usage of the Torah as a way to store stories, as an archive of the history of a people if you will, and archivist[s]... care about compiling experiences [and] collecting the fears of others (180). Records of fear and records of strength in face of adversity. Jon is an archive of fear, but he may well also be an archive of love and strength. 

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #playing the role of adam and also cain maybe #martin blackwood #playing the role of eve #i have more to say but it doesnt fit into the narrative of this

[totallyfrandom]

I've recently watched the 2019 "The Lion King" movie online, and I'm glad I didn't pay to see it at the cinemas because it wouldn't be worth the ticket price. It was lame. (record-lengthy rant below; not really spoilers as it's basically the 1994 animated movie again with a few minor changes)

”The Lion King” from 1994 is one of my most favorite Disney animated classics from my childhood and I was interested at first when the remake was announced. I was impressed by the gorgeous realistic animation in the first previews and trailer, but the more I looked into the last trailer, the more concerned I was about one thing: the expressions. Their faces lacked emotions. My biggest concern was Timon who's the most expressive comic relief character, and Scar who is this mischievous character with a very wide range of sly expressions on his face showing his scheming. Will the scenes of emotions and comedy suffer from this realism?

So I didn't have great expectations of the movie when I started watching it but other than the impressive CGI, it's really telling if at the end of the movie I go ”Finally it's over!” which is in this case.

My concern was confirmed: the characters lack so much of the expressions and emotions, which was a huge sacrifice for the sake of realism. That was my biggest problem with the movie. Also, unlike ”Beauty and the Beast” remake and ”Maleficent” for example, it felt more like they only made this remake to cash in on people's nostalgia. It didn't fool me, I felt no nostalgia whatsoever. Just disappointment over how lame it felt.

Below are some scenes and character critiques that I particularly want to mention.

First up, Scar. I didn't like his voice. I'm not saying that Ejiofor did a bad job, it just doesn't fit his sly character. And just like the rest of the characters, the realistic animation sacrificed the facial expressions and emotions of Scar which was a huge part of his character. His voice didn't really replace that sacrifice. He didn't feel intimidating at all.

Speaking of intimidating, now we come to the hyenas. The only character who somewhat comes close to intimidating was Shenzi. She felt more of a threat than Scar was. I noticed two changes in this remake: one is the other two hyenas Banzai and Ed got a rename. Now they're called Kamari and Azizi. Ed, or now Azizi, even speaks and doesn't act as stupid and giggly as before. But none of them are any funnier, they've only become duller. None of their attempt of ”comedy” made me laugh, not even crack a smile. This change had no reasoning behind it (none that I know of) and feels pointless. I have no idea why they'd change two old fan favorites like that. But I do have to give some credit for the other change that was a bit more interesting – or it could just be my interpretation or simply a misunderstanding: Scar's alliance with the hyenas. In the original movie, Scar was portrayed as the leader of the hyenas from the start, even over Shenzi, but in this adaptation it seems more like Shenzi is the leader over the hyenas and Scar is the imposter who got them on his side because he promised them to enter the Pride Lands with food for the taking. Shenzi even dared to question Scar as if she challenged him (I would pay to see a cool backstory for remake-Shenzi instead of this movie). Shenzi is also the one who picked adult Nala as her opponent in the final fight for an actual reason. So yeah, Shenzi is good. But she didn’t save the movie, unfortunately.

While the hyenas weren't funny, the only character who are somewhat funny (despite the sad sacrifice of expressions for most comedic scenes) were Timon and Pumbaa. But I still have mixed feelings about them (which I'll mention below in the songs section) so they weren't my favorite characters in this movie, but more like they--along with Shenzi--were the better characters of the entire cast. At least the duo are the only ones that made me chuckle (which was my only close-to-laugh during the entire movie) and that was near the end of the movie. Not impressive when it took that long for me to laugh.

Then we have Rafiki. There are two things I'm bothered about this remake of him: he didn't have his iconic staff like in the original and I thought that maybe they removed the staff for the sake of realism (I would've expected that the staff would be gone anyway) but then near the end of the movie he pulls out his staff from the tree calling it ”old friend”. It feels like the staff was originally removed but then was forced in for the last scenes just as a nod to the fans, as it was a last-minute addition. That was my problem with the staff situation: first it wasn't there but then BAM! Rafiki brings it up calling it ”my old friend” as a last-minute nod to fans who'd hate to see it go, maybe to avoid a riot. It felt a bit tacky, Imo. But what made him into a less sympathetic character is that instead of mourning for the loss of his old friend Mufasa and the prince like in the original, he goes ”tsk-tsk-tsk”. Yeah, when my dad dies I'm gonna sit there during his funeral and go ”tsk-tsk-tsk”. Wtf Disney? I guess this is what they do instead of being able to show any emotions in the realistic animal faces.

I don't know what I can say about the other characters, even about the main protagonist Simba. They were just lame when they lacked the emotions and expressions that was part of the characters so I didn't feel any connection to them. They were just... there. Same name, same personality, but that's all. Even with James Earl Jones returning for voicing Mufasa didn't help (did Disney bring him back just to add to the nostalgic value hmm?), partly because I grew up with the Swedish dub so Mufasa's English voice didn't give the same impact to me as it may give to fans who grew with James Earl Jones as Mufasa.

As for scenes, we'll start with one with Rafiki and it was the most unnecessary and time-wasting scene I had to endure. I mean, I can't believe we have to watch an almost 3-minute long journey of a tuft from Simba's mane. It's the scene where Rafiki learns that Simba is still alive: Simba shakes his head, resulting in a small tuft of his mane gets loose and floats in the wind. But instead of a smooth transition and then within 15 seconds reach Rafiki like in the original, we see it be in various places and picked up by various animals that contributes to its progress, even being eaten by a giraffe before the scene fades to black... which is pointless when it just continues the journey but now we see the tuft in a ball of giraffe dung being rulled by a beetle. Eventually, which felt like ten long minutes, the tuft reaches Rafiki's tree with the help of an ant. It's almost like this prolonged scene is just there to fill more minutes of the movie. Also, that tuft of Simba's mane has been inside a giraffe and then pooped out, presumably smelling, and Rafiki was holding it so... ew.

Due to the realism in the animal faces which limits their expressions, there are a lot of emotional scenes that I used to love that lacks that emotion. No scene made me shed tears or fill me with a heavy heart, no scene made me feel that hope and warms my heart. A couple of examples:

The scene where Simba finds Mufasa’s body didn't give me any emotions, which is a disappointment as this is one of the saddest scenes in animation history. But I admit that JD McCrary who voices young Simba did a good job in delivering the sad voice and sounded legit like he was close to tears. That was the closest to real emotions in the film. Too bad the facial expression of the CGI lion cub didn't give what McCreary's performance deserves.

Another scene I find a lot of disappointed in was my favorite from the original movie; when adult Simba was talking to his father in the clouds. It always used to touch my heart because of how amazing it was with the music and the visualization in the sky and the emotions of awe in Simba' face. But this one was such a lackluster. It didn't move me in any way and I could barely see Mufasa (I guess his face appeared just with a blink of an eye a few times when lightning struck in the clouds but that was way too quick). They didn't even play one of my favorite instrumental music when Simba was running back to the Pride Lands. Sure, it's fine that they have at least one new song that wasn't in the original soundtrack before, but they did sacrifice such a motivational piece of music for it.

But the worst scene in the entire movie (if we don't count the songs) is when Scar betrays Mufasa and pushes him off the cliff. Instead of Mufasa saying "Scar! My brother! Help me!" with a pleading tone in his voice (this was a literal life and death situation), he just says "Scar! Help me!" as if it was an order. Then instead of whispering to his brother, Scar almost yells out "Long live the king!" before he literally bitch-slaps Mufasa so that he looses his grip. Why not shove him off like in the original movie when Scar was already digging his claws into Mufasa's paws like in the original movie? Also there was no zoom-in on the eyes of Mufasa when he realized the betrayal just before his death... but then again, those eyes would've been lifeless from expressions.

By the way, Scar is stupid when he's talking loudly about secrets, like before the final fight scene he gave away that he was responsible to Mufasa's death which convinced Sarabi of Simba's innocence despite Scar desperately tried to lie his way through. You really messed this up, Scar.

As for the songs in general, they were just... there. Only the opening song ”Circle of Life” is good enough for me. The rest both feel and sounded duller.

I was so disappointed in "I Just Can't Wait to be King". Due to the realism, there's no colorful background that complements the song and it feels bland (”Can You Feel the Love Tonight” and ”Hakuna Matata” suffers the similar thing). Even the song itself doesn't give any nostalgia to me. It looks kinda off to see realistic Simba sing, it's like an uncanny valley vibe. Again he lacks any expression, same with Zazu. When Timon sings ”Hakuna Matata” and ”The Lion Sleeps Tonight” with a wide-open mouth, it looks... odd. I don't see Timon singing, instead I see an animal screaming. For food or for help, either way works, but not singing.

However, the worst song in the entire movie was "Be Prepared" for so many reasons. One, I’ve already mentioned above that I think Scar's voice doesn't fit his character so his singing clearly can't top the original song (which is why I think it had to be changed a bit which I'll mention soon). Two, it doesn't have the dark and dramatic shadowing. Three, Scar's mischievous expressions are gone for the sake of realism so Scar just looks flat and awkward. Four, the song was changed and is now shorter so I was just sitting here getting confused of where it was going and thinking when the powerful chorus and the xylophone(?) instruments are gonna start and then you hear that final "Be Prepaaaaared!" from Scar before it zooms out without the echoing laughter of Scar and the hyenas, instead the last "Prepared" echoes before the scene fades to another scene. It just ends like that just as quick as the song started. Like, the heck was that? I get that they had to get rid of the army of hyenas marching, but this was just lame and lazy. This brings to the fifth reason: they just ruined one of the greatest Disney villain songs ever made. After watching the movie I've read that there was a rumor or concern that ”Be Prepared” wouldn't be in the movie. I'm kinda wishing it didn't make into the remake when they didn't even try making it look or sound great. Definitely not memorable.

...

This is just a half of everything I wanted to say about the movie, but I think I'll stop here after having said the more important bits that I wanted to rant about.

All in all, under all that gorgeous realistic CGI animation lies a lazy attempt at the remake with most scenes being shot-to-shot copies from the original, half-assed attempt at most songs when it comes to the visuals (or barely an attempt in ”Be Prepared”), lifeless expressions of the realistic animals and ruining the emotions of powerful and most memorable scenes just to cash in on people's nostalgia. Only Shenzi was the character who had some potential for something new and interesting but like I said, she didn’t save the movie for me.

At least they TRIED a lot more with ”Beauty and the Beast” remake and ”Maleficent” where they actually did good new changes that contributed more to the story. With ”The Lion King” remake they just upgraded it to look good but had to sacrifice the most important thing which is the expressions of colors and reactions in characters' faces. Even Beast's facial expressions had more emotions through all that makeup.

As for recommendation, if it wasn’t obvious enough I personally wouldn't recommend it. It's better to go back watching the 1994 animated classic instead of wasting time and money on it. Unless you’re a true nostalgic, then go ahead and enjoy it. I’m not judging anyone who likes or loves it. It was just personally a disappointment for me when it didn’t live up for my childhood favorite classic.

One final thing: you feel like reading my lengthy rant wasted your valuable time? That’s what it felt when I was watching the movie and finally came to the end, hence the “Finally it’s over!”.

#big kudos if you've read all the way to the end! #(honestly I don't think anyone has the time or patience; this is more like a script guide for a YouTube review <_<; ) #(I just don't do YouTube reviews) #Char watches movies #personal

[romancatholicreflections]

14th April >> Sunday Homilies and Reflections for Roman Catholics on Palm Sunday of the Lord's Passion - Year C.

To be celebrated on 14th April 2019

Palm/ Passion Sunday

Gospel Reading: Luke 19:28-40

vs. 28 Jesus went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem.

vs. 29 Now when he was near Bethphage, close by the Mount of Olives, as it is called, he sent two of the disciples, telling them,

vs. 30 “Go off to the village opposite, and as you enter it you will find a tethered colt that no one has yet ridden. Untie it and bring it here.

vs. 31 If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ you are to say this, ‘The Master needs it.'”

vs. 32 The messengers went off and found everything just as he had told them.

vs. 33 As they were untying the colt, its owner said, “Why are you untying that colt?”

vs. 34 and they answered, “The Master needs it.”

palm sunday 1

vs. 35 So they took the colt to Jesus, and throwing their garments over its back, they helped Jesus onto it.

vs. 36 As he moved off, people spread their cloaks in the road, and now, as he was approaching the downward slope of the Mount of Olives,

vs. 37 the whole group of disciples joyfully began to praise God at the top of their voices for all the miracles they had seen.

vs. 38 They cried out: “Blessings on the King who comes, in the name of the Lord!

Peace in heaven and glory in the highest heavens!”

vs. 39 Some Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Master, check your disciples,”

vs. 40 but he answered, “I tell you, if these keep silence the stones will cry out.”

**************************************************

We have four commentators available from whom you may wish to choose .

Michel DeVerteuil : A Trinidadian Holy Ghost Priest, director of the Centre of Biblical renewal .

Thomas O’Loughlin: Professor of Historical Theology, University of Wales, Lampeter.

Sean Goan: Studied scripture in Rome, Jerusalem and Chicago and teaches at Blackrock College and works with Le Chéile

Donal Neary SJ: Editor of The Sacred Heart Messenger

**********************************

Michel de Verteuil

Lectio Divina The Year of Luke

www.columba.ie

General Comments

The Palm Sunday procession is a living lesson in liturgy. By inviting us to imitate the actions of Jesus entering Jerusalem and the crowd welcoming him, the Church wants us to experience that the story is still being lived today. Whenever people of faith decide to confront evil at its source, and do so with inner freedom, remaining faithful to their values, Jesus is once more entering Jerusalem.

We have the same experience by meditating on the gospel texts and recognizing ourselves in them.

Each of the gospels tells the story of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem in a distinctive way. In St Luke’s account, which we read this year, there is first of all the very significant verse 28, which describes Jesus “going on ahead of his disciples.”

The events described in verses 29 to 34 are found in all the synoptic accounts, a sign that the early Church found them highly symbolical. Some take the story as evidence of Jesus’ supernatural powers, but it could merely be evidence of his self-confidence as he faces his great moment of truth, a mark of true leadership.

In St Luke’s account, it is the disciples themselves, entering alongside Jesus, who are moved to excitement at this moment.

A small detail, but clearly significant for St Luke: the disciples “helped Jesus on to the colt.”

The people do not wave palm branches in St Luke’s account, but their gesture of spreading their cloaks in the road before Jesus is both a sign of their wild excitement and their welcoming him as a king.

The cry of the people in verse 38 echoes the song of the angels at the birth of Jesus (Luke 2:14).

The brief dialogue in verses 39-40 can be interpreted in different ways. The Pharisees in question may have been followers of Jesus who were afraid of confrontation and wanted to protect Jesus. Or they may have represented the first assault of the opposition to Jesus. In either case his answer expresses his inner freedom very dramatically.

Scripture reflection

Lord, there comes a time in the lives of all of us when we, like Jesus,

must enter into a radical confrontation:

– those in authority have been abusing their power;

– we finally recognise that we need help to overcome an addiction;

– some members of our community have betrayed the cause and must be excluded;

– we need to give up our comfortable situation and move into something new.

At these moments, give us

– and especially those of us whom you have called to be leaders in our communities –

a share in the inner freedom of Jesus,

so that like him we can go on ahead of the rest, as we go up to our Jerusalem.walking-with-jesus1

Help us like Jesus to make our arrangements confident that they will come to pass,

and to allow ourselves to be put in a position of authority.

Help us to be so confident of our cause

that if someone told us to check our followers

we would know that if they kept silence, the stones would cry out.

Lord, we thank you for glorious moments of grace

– we found a friend whom we felt we could trust perfectly;

– we enjoyed intimacy with our spouse;

– one of our children did us proud;

– a new social movement arose in our country.

We were like the disciples when Jesus approached the downward slope of the Mount of Olives:

we joyfully began to praise you at the top of our voices for the miracle which we had seen.

We cried out, ”Blessings on the king who comes in the name of the Lord!”

We glorified you in the highest heavens.

Lord, it is strange how when the moment of grace comes,

everything seems to fall into place very naturally.

If we need something, we find as the disciples did on the first Palm Sunday,

that all we need say is, “The Master needs it,” and immediately all obstacles are removed.

Lord, we pray that as a Church we may not betray our young people.

Often we lack the courage of our convictions,

are too anxious to please them, and do not go ahead of them.

But when young people today meet leaders who challenge them, they joyfully praise God,

they are ready to spread their cloaks in the road before them,

and welcome them as kings who come in the name of the Lord.

“The important events of history are the thousands of humble actions that heal and reconcile.” …Cardinal Arms of Sao Paulo in Brazil, 1994

Lord, we thank you for the many humble people who enter Jerusalem in peace.

As we think of them, we praise you at the top of our voices

and cry out, “Peace in heaven and glory in the highest heavens.”

************************************************

Thomas O’Loughlin,

Liturgical Resources for the Year of Luke

www.Columba.ie

Introduction to the Celebration

The text in the Missal (p. 123: ‘Dear friends in Christ …‘) cannot be bettered. However, care should be taken to read it as if it were one’s own notes so as to stress the notion that we are entering into the Great Week, accompanying Christ in the Paschal Mystery.

Passion Notes

1. For those who seeking in the gospels an historical record of the events of Jesus’ life, the passion accounts present an awful problem: for the most crucial event in the whole story the early churches had at least four different pictures. When Christians today think of Jesus’s death their picture is invariably a mixture with the people drawn from John and the general scene from the synoptics. Ct the real oneChrist is flanked by two other crosses (Jn 19:18; but a detail common to all four), and standing near him are ‘his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene’ and John (Jn 19:25-26). Nearby also are soldiers casting lots for his clothes (Jn 19:23-25 but with parallels in all four). The scene is one of darkness covering the earth (Mt 27:45; Mk 15:33; Lk 23:44 — a darkness unknown in Jn). Against this conflation, it is worth noting how Luke sets out his scene as it allows us to see his particular perception. The scene of the crucifixion is dark (Lk 23:44) not only in terms of light, but in terms of the courage of his followers: those who knew him, men and women who had followed him from Galilee stood at a distance watching the event unfold (Lk 23:49). Near him there are a crowd of spectacle lovers, scoffing leaders and mocking soldiers (Lk 23:35-36). In Matthew and Mark both criminals also taunt him (they are silent in John), but in Luke (23:39-43) we have the dialogue of the Good Thief whose opening words are a confession that Jesus is suffering as an innocent man (23:41). The centurion’s confession is found only in Mark (15:39) and Luke (23:47), but while in Mark this is a christological statement, in Luke it is a declaration of the imiocent suffering of Jesus: ‘Now when the centurion saw what had taken place, he praised God, and said, “Certainly this man was innocent!”.’ Luke, uniquely, adds another detail at this point: ‘And all … who assembled to see the sight, when they saw what had taken place, returned home beating their breasts’(23:48).

2. A convenient way to see how Luke’s passion differs from the other is to note those items which are proper to him. These present Christ as the righteous one who is faithful to the end alone. Luke presents Jesus as alone from all those whom he had spent time with, eaten with, and been with in the good times; yet in the dark hour his goodness still shone out and transformed people. While his long-term followers were lying low, Jesus was gathering new witnesses to his truth amidst the moral chaos which was his crucifixion. The sense of finality is heightened at the beginning of the passage when Christ states his longing to eat the meal (the final meal in a whole series of meals in Luke) and that he shall not drink wine again until the kingdom comes (22:15- 20). It is also seen in his instructions for the church after his departure (22:35-7) and his warning to Jerusalem (23:27-32). His aloneness is pointed out in the prophesy that the disciples will desert him (22:21-3 and 33-4), and this is fulfilled in the detailed story of the triple denial of Peter (22:54-62)Jesus and cross

By this time Luke presents all the disciples as having fled. By the time of the crucifixion — in stark contrast to John from whence comes our familiar picture of John, Mary, and the other women standing beneath the Cross — there is not a single friendly face nearby: his acquaintances (hoi gnóstoi) and the women stand watching at a distance (23:49). In the end the only ones who acknowledge him are outsiders who at least recognise him as a good and righteous man: Pilate, a criminal, and Roman soldier. Luke alone has Pilate recognise him as one without fault (23:5; 14-5; and 22); similarly he alone has ‘the good thief’ incident who states that this man has done nothing wrong (23:39-43); and finally the centurion, but while in Mark 15:39 and Matthew 27:54 he states, ‘Truly this was the Son of God!’, here Luke has him state simply: ‘Certainly this man was righteous (dikaios).’

For Luke Christ in his passion is utterly abandoned, and he in turn abandons himself to the Father to do the Father’s will (22:22, 29, 37, 42-3). This abandonment reaches its climax in the final cry from the Cross (23:46).

Homily Notes

1. The Missal says that ‘a brief homily may be given.’ There is definitely a case today for taking up this permission to omit the homily altogether; not because such an omission might shorten an already long liturgy, but since we have just come through one of the longest verbal elements in the whole of the liturgy (the passion), another verbal event (a homily) does not bring contrast or help the gospel reading to sink in. A better way to highlight what has been read would be a couple of moments of structured silence (e.g. ‘Let us now reflect in silence on the passion of our Saviour’) before standing for the Creed. On the subject of the length of today’s liturgy we should remember that length of time is one of the key non-verbal ritual cues that humans use to indicate special importance: a crucial symbolic event that is over in a moment, or takes just the same length of time as an ordinary event is an anti-climax – do not forget that Christmas dinner must take longer than an everyday meal. Because this is a special day opening a special week, it should md must take a noticeably longer time than an ordinary Sunday.

Holy wk2. If one does preach, then the brief comments should be directed introducing the week as a whole rather than particular comments on the readings. This could take its starting point from the gospel outside – that Christ has arrived at, and entered Jerusalem, and that ‘his hour’ has arrived. As Christians we are sharers in this event.

3. If the situation calls for a meditation rather than a homily, then a suitable meditation is provided in the Christ-hymn (the second reading) as a way of interpreting the events narrated. However, rather than re-reading it directly from the lectionary it may be broken up into its verses and read with pauses. The version used in the Office is better for such use than either the RSV/ JB. Better still, have it sung by a soloist and simply introduce as the earliest Christian meditation we possess on what we lve just recal1ed about the death of Jesus.

******************************************************

3. Sean Goan

Let the reader understand

www.columba.ie

Gospel: Luke 22:14-23:56

Holy week begins with a dual focus, namely the events of Palm Sunday and the triumphant march of Jesus into Jerusalem and then, by contrast, the story of his passion and death. In year C we read from Luke’s account of the passion and it is worth our while noting the differences, as each evangelist highlights different things in order to bring out the meaning of what is taking place. As in the public ministry of Jesus, so too in his death Luke stresses the themes of forgiveness and prayer. Only in Luke does Jesus pray that his executioners be forgiven and only here is the good thief mentioned. Also in Luke, Jesus dies with a prayer of trust on his lips, thus embodying a teaching that he had given many times in his life.

Reflection

Suffering is part and parcel of being human and while we must readily acknowledge this fact it is also true that we usually do all in our power to avoid it. The readings for today are an invitation to reflect on how the passion of Jesus can change our outlook on suffering. Our Saviour may be seen in these texts as a model of patient endurance and of faithfulness. We are not asked to believe that suffering is good in itself but to see that good can come of it and to recognise in Jesus God’s solidarity with all those who endure suffering for doing what is right.

boy-and-cross-of-jesus

**********************************************

4. Donal Neary S.J.

Gospel reflections

www.columba.ie

PALM SUNDAY

Who was there at the end?

Who was there at the end? The friends of Jesus: from a distance, but still around. They stayed near, not wanting to leave. Did they all stand around for a while? Wanting to go and not wanting to go, like mourners at a graveside – confused, sad and discouraged – silent in the moments of violent death. Were they afraid that this might happen to them too? The friends and acquaintances of Jesus, the one who promised much and said he would rise again… Did any of them remember this promise? Did they whisper it to each other as they closed the stone at the tomb? Did they wonder if more was yet to come? For there was always more with Jesus. We are that ‘more!

centurian at the cross

There also was the centurion: the good man who said, ‘he was a Son of God’. The one from Rome saw through the many from Jerusalem. He was a strange type of guy at the cross – the Roman who had been told to get these crucifixions done, with the least amount of trouble and publicity. Away from home and his own people, he would find a new God in the home of his heart and would be linked forever to a new people.

Something about this man gave a scent of love, and an authority that came from somewhere far away – further than an emperor or a political power. He knew that this man was a Son of God; may we know this too of Jesus.

Lord by your cross and resurrection, you have set us free.

You are the savior of the world.

___________________________________

[labyrinth-of-headcanons]

For the Titus one, the girl is a black witch who kept herself young because of a curse she casted on her self hundreds of years ago. That was the time when she believed that black magic is the superior one to its white counterpart. To once prove herself the greatest witch to exist she murdered the pillar of strength in Reim, Pernadius. Scheherazade grew angry for this and locked her under the empire to atone for her sins. Titus slowly grew obsessed for the 3 years he had been dreaming of her.

I hope that you like my interpretation of the requests, I think I should have followed your idea but I dunno if I didn’t happen to drift off a bit lol.

TW Yandere

Once again, just like he did every third day for months now, Titus proceeded down the stone steps. From somewhere, the wind seemed to be able to come through a crack in the walls, howling through the darkness. The farther down he got, the quieter it became. Eventually, there was only the clattering of the lamp in his hand, as it swung according to his movements, and the dripping of water, which fell from a leaky spot. And then there were his footsteps, the slightest hint of a tap whenever they met with the cold stone.

Soon, even this sound was taken from him, as he reached the depths of the dungeon, green, wet moss spreading over the ground. The small tunnel was even too small for Titus to go through it with a straight back. These had been safety measurements, making sure that whatever was kept at the end of it, would not be able to escape easily. Titus however, found it disgusting. Having left someone to rot down there, between molds and rats was unforgivable for him.

Deep in his thoughts, he didn’t notice how fast his feet had brought him through the tunnel and he found himself standing in front of the lattice gate in no time. Curiously he peeked through the bars at the large, round area in front of him. The fake sunlight seemed so natural against the green grass on the ground. Millions of flowers surrounded the huge, golden cage that was erected in the middle of it. It seemed so much nicer than when he first came down here, and Titus was pretty proud of how he had improved the cell.

Holding out his hand and letting his magic flow from it, the bars opened up, moving out of the way for him with a loud shrieking sound. As he stepped in, they immediately closed up behind him, sealing the place in its original state. A fake breeze came up, gliding through the flowers and his garments, and Titus couldn’t help but smile in anticipation. Yes, it was a fake imitation he had put up, but it should have improved her life so much from how it was before. Even though he could only see her back from his standpoint, he was sure that she was happy to be surrounded by the colors and light.

When he reached the enormous cage, he touched its bars with his fingers, sliding down onto his knees along the metal. He felt satisfied being so close to her, as he didn’t feel the need to say all the words he would have liked to tell her, so he kept quiet. It didn’t take her long to react to his intense eyes fixating on her back, a shiver running down her spine and she crossed her arms in front of her in a defensive manner. 

“Lord Titus…” she spoke softly. She had learned the difference between him and the magician that had captured her years before. But she felt like this one was much worse than the magi who was responsible for her neverending nightmare. “When will you let me go? It’s been so long, I want to be free again, My Lord.” Her voice was trembling, as she knew his response, but she couldn’t let this matter rest, much to Titus’s dismay.

Reaching out his right hand, he breached the bars of the cage, touching the skin of her upper arm which was free of the little white dress she was granted to wear. “It’s not a good time…” he mumbled, watching her flinch under his touch and pursing his lips. “But when will be a good time?” she winced, hurdling away from his hand that had grasped onto a lock of her hair. “We’ll we see…” he replied, lost in the feeling of the silk-like strands that ran through his fingers.

“You always say that…” Her voice grew softer and he could see how she rubbed over her eyes. Trouble arose in his gut when he noticed how she seemingly started to cry, and with a steady grip he reached for her shoulder and pulled her back against the bars towards him. Both of his arms wriggled around her and even if the cage stood between them, it was like he was embracing her from behind.

“Don’t cry!” he pleaded, feeling utterly sadness from seeing her in a miserable state. “Outside there is so much war and madness, but here it’s safe and peaceful! Isn’t it wonderful here?” He waited for her answer in vain, before shaking her a little, the witch letting out a yelp under the sudden force. “I made it so beautiful for you. Look at these flowers and the sky! Say that they are beautiful!”

But there was no spoken response. Instead, she carefully placed her hand on top of his, making his stomach jump from the sudden intimacy of her touch. “No, it’s dreadful. All these fakes will never satisfy my longing for the outdoor world, My Lord.” The silence fell over the two, as they stayed like this for a while. From far, one could have thought them to be a couple in love, but when observed closely, one could have seen Titus trembling from anger, his eyes full of madness and frustration.

“Fine,” he said, freeing the witch from his embrace, as he stood up. “Then you can continue to rot in this hellhole. We’ll see how much you like it when I take all the fakes away again.” Only seconds after his words spoke, the illusion started to crumble, grass turning to ugly, wet stone, flowers turning to moss and gravel and the beautiful blue sky got eaten by a darkness so black that one couldn’t see the ceiling.

Titus couldn’t hear her pleading. He didn’t want to hear her saying she wants to get out and that he cannot leave her like this. And so he didn’t listen to her, picking up the lamp next to the gate and making his way up to the surface again. This time, he wouldn’t come back in three days. Maybe in three weeks, he wasn’t so sure about it yet. But he knew, she had to learn to appreciate his efforts and what she had. It was not like he would let her out any time soon.

#Titus #yandere tw #Magi #Magi: The labyrinth of magic #Magi: Sinbad no bouken #SnB #Magi Imagines #Magi Headcanons #Magi Scenarios #arashi-chan336

[desiderium-eden-a]

@kapisola replied to your post:

This is so interesting though :o I’d love to hear more of it someday if you ever feel like sharing more 

Welp. You asked for it.

Trigger Warning: child violence, death, mention of rape and kidnapping, children getting eaten, basically anything bad that can happen to a kid happens or has happened

First of all, from the 1600s or 1700s (haven’t worked out exactly when Neverland was created) various children have been transported to this other world with no memory of how or what they were doing beforehand. All they know is that they are in this land and they now have a monster partner.

Neverland itself has five kingdoms, each ruled by a child with an incredibly powerful monster.

You have the City of Graves, ruled by Amelie (I had Lazuli in her role in drawing but Amelie was the original), a 10-year-old girl from the Victorian Era, and her monster, Gepetto. It’s a dark and gray city of tall crooked stone buildings and graveyards. The air is full of scattered whispers and the windows usually have shadowy figures looking out. Easily the most depressing place in Neverland, but also the only pacifist zone. Monster battles are forbidden here.

The rest of the kingdoms celebrate fighting. And though they are much more colorful and fun looking, they’re also home to official fighting rings. There is the pastel Castle of Sweets, run by a 6-year-old girl from the Great Depression. The neon Neo City, run by a 12-year-old boy from the 80s (the least experienced of the kings). And two others that I haven’t fully fleshed out yet.

The world itself, with exception to the City of Graves, is a very colorful and fantastical world. So most kids, after the initial shock, go off and have fun. Go on adventures or fight each other with their monsters.

The main story was about this new kid, from the modern age, who has just been transported to Neverland, and unlike so many of the others, wants to find a way back. From there, he meets with a couple other kids who may have been there longer but not by much. They’d know about monsters and monster battles but have yet to know how dangerous this world can be. They then get the help of Amelie who joins them. No one knows how to go home though, as no one’s done it before. But they decide to start by collecting the keys entrusted with each of the kings.

Sounds easy enough, but as they travel, the group begin to see that Neverland isn’t as fun as it first seems Well, except Amelie, who already knew.

The first is that monsters can fight to the death, especially in the special fighting rings of the other kingdoms where it’s actually cheered for and encouraged. And while watching one monster kill another may be much for kids, what comes after is much worse.

When a child dies, their monster dies with it. However, technically a child can survive without their monster. Except that monsters love the taste of children. So those who lose their monsters are in constant danger of being killed, which is how many have died throughout the ages.

Of course, the City of Graves provides safe haven, but only for those who can make it there. even then, it’s difficult living. Food is limited as the soil that isn’t used for graves, isn’t fertile enough to grow much more than black thorn bushes. But hunting and gathering food is difficult as very few children who still have their monsters choose to fight under Amelie and many of those who do have to stay behind to protect the kingdom and its few inhabitants. (Amelie herself only left because she wanted to see if she could send the monsterless children home.)

As tasty as kids are, monsters will never turn on their own kid, at least never kill. As that means their own death as well. However, that doesn’t mean they can’t be malicious. Something present in some weak-willed kids or those with low self-esteem is that their monsters will often bully, abuse or even try to manipulate them to do what they want. This is especially dangerous in parasitic monsters who reside attached to or inside their child’s body.

Something that I’m not sure will be revealed until the end is the nature of Neverland and its monsters.

First of all, every kid who appears in Neverland is either dead or dying (more specifically kids who died or are dying in terrible ways). Though any dying kid will be dead if left there long enough. And their monsters are manifestations of their traumas and darkness, particularly the circumstances surrounding their deaths.

In the case of Lazuli and Amelie, their monsters represent their murderers. With Lazuli being killed by her mother in this universe. But she still idolizes her mother, which is why Mama is still pretty, at least until she opens her mouth.

With Amelie, she was abducted and murdered by a rapist who had befriended her. A street performer who used his puppet shows to lure children. Gepetto takes the form of a black tattered cloak and theater mask, with disembodied hands that peel the cloak away like a curtain. His attacks use nursery rhymes as a child-like puppet, always crying blood with dark chains that resemble hands clamped around their necks and limbs,emerges to cast a spell.

Though not all monsters are so literal in their interpretations.

The monsters are linked to their child’s mind and come in 3 ranks. Though the general belief is that monsters evolve with experience in combat, there is actually a stronger relationship between the monster and the loss of innocence in the child.

Rookie is the first rank. Each kid arrives with a rookie level monster. Smaller, weaker, and often cuter looking than other monsters. Most kids who fight with rookie level monsters do so until one side faints or is exhausted rather than dies.

With a monster’s first kill though, it evolves to Champion level. Bigger, stronger and more monster looking. Children with Champions typically realize at this point that there are consequences in battles.

The final rank is Ultimate. The strongest, and typically most monstrous or disturbing looking rank. Children with Ultimate rank monsters more or less understand the extent of their actions. This can come with a certain amount of monster kills, depends on the child, or when a child allows or orders their monster to eat or harm another child directly.

Basically, a Champion arises when you realize you can kill another monster. An Ultimate comes when you realize you can kill another kid, whether directly or indirectly.

#Neverland story #trigger warning #tw: child violence #tw: rape mention #tw: child murder #and like so many other things that seem almost too specific to tag #like #tw: monsters eating kids #tw: kids telling monsters to eat kids #but yeah . . . it's like Digimon meets Silent Hill

[madewithonerib]

Mark 11:12-14 | JESUS Curses the Fig Tree ¹² The next day, when they had left Bethany, JESUS was hungry. ¹³ Seeing in the distance a fig tree in leaf, HE went to see if there     was any fruit on it. ¹⁴ Then HE said to the tree, “May no one     ever eat of your fruit again.” And HIS disciples heard this statement.

Charles John Ellicott, Theologian [1819–1905] | Mark 11:12-14

1] And on the morrow—On the chronological difficulty presented     by this verse, see Note on Matthew 21:18-19.

Charles John Ellicott | The Barren Fig Tree [Matthew 21:18-22]

        Matthew 21:18-22 | JESUS Curses the Fig Tree

        ¹⁸ In the morning, as JESUS was returning to the city,             HE was hungry. ¹⁹ Seeing a fig tree by the road,             HE went up to it but found nothing on it except leaves.

           “May you never bear fruit again!” HE said. And             immediately the tree withered.

        ²⁰ When the disciples saw this, they marveled & asked,

            “How did the fig tree wither so quickly?”

        ²¹ “Truly I tell you,” JESUS replied, “if you have faith &             do not doubt, not only will you do what was done             to the fig tree, but even if you say to this mountain,

            ‘Be lifted up & thrown into the sea,’ it will happen.

        ²² If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask in prayer.”

    This cursing of the barren fig-tree represents the state of     hypocrites in general, & so teaches us that CHRIST looks     for the power of religion in those who profess it, & the     SAVIOUR of it from those that have the show of it.

    HIS just expectations from flourishing professors are often     disappointed; HE comes to many, seeking fruit, & finds     leaves only.

    A false profession commonly withers in this world, & it is     the effect of CHRIST's curse.

    The fig-tree that had no fruit, soon lost its leaves.

    This represents the state of the nation & people of the Jews     in particular.

    Our LORD JESUS found among them nothing but leaves.

         After they rejected CHRIST,          blindness & hardness grew          upon them till they were undone, &          their place & nation rooted up.

    The LORD was righteous in it.

    Let us greatly fear the doom denounced on the barren fig-tree.

Joseph Benson, Methodist [1749–1821] | Mark 11:12-14

1]  On the morrow, when HE was come from Bethany—Where       HE had lodged, & was returning into the city;

      HE was hungry, &c—See note on Matthew 21:18-22.

2] And seeing a fig-tree, having leaves—The fig-tree, it must be     observed, puts forth its fruit first, & its leaves afterward,     so that it was natural to suppose, as it had leaves, it would     also have fruit upon it.

3] And when he came, he found nothing but leaves—There was     not so much as any fruit in the bud: which unfruitfulness at     this season showed it to be absolutely barren.

    For the time of figs, that is, the season of gathering figs, was     not yet. Thus, in Matthew 21:34, signifies the season of     gathering the fruits.

    In construing this passage, the latter clause must be joined     with the words, HE came, if haply, the middle clause being     a parenthesis; thus, HE came, if haply HE might find any     thing thereon, for the season of gathering figs was not yet.

    That this is the true construction of the passage is plain,     because the evangelist is not giving the reason why there     were no figs on the tree, but

    The reason why JESUS expected to find some on it:

    HE tells us the season of gathering figs was not come, to     show that none had been taken off the tree;

    & consequently, that, having its whole produce upon it,     there was nothing improper in CHRIST’s expecting fruit     on it then.

    Whereas, if we should think the reason why HE did not find     any figs was, that the time of them was not come, we must     acknowledge the tree was cursed very improperly for     having none.

    It is true, this interpretation makes a trajection necessary;     yet it is not more extraordinary than that which is found in     Mark 16:3-4:

        where the clause, for it was very great, namely, the         stone at the door of the sepulchre, does not relate         to what immediately precedes it, namely, & when         they looked they saw the stone rolled away, but to         the remote member, they said, Who shall roll us         away the stone?

        Mark 16:3-4 | ³ They were asking one another,         “Who will roll away the stone from the entrance of         the tomb?” ⁴ But when they looked up, they saw that         the stone had been rolled away, even though it was         extremely large.

    —This interpretation is approved by Dr. Campbell, who     renders the original expression, the fig-harvest, justly     asking, “What can the time of any fruit be, but the     time of its full maturity?

    And what is the season of gathering, but the time of maturity?

    But figs may be eaten for allaying hunger before they be     fully ripe: & the declaration that the season of figs was     not yet come, cannot be the reason why there was nothing     but leaves on the tree;

        for the fig is of that tribe of vegetables wherein         the fruit appears before the leaf.

    The leaves therefore showed that the figs should not only     be formed, but well advanced; and, the season of reaping     being not yet come, removed all suspicion that they had     been gathered.

    When both circumstances are considered, nothing could     account for its want of fruit but the barrenness of the tree.”

    JESUS said, No man eat fruit of thee hereafter for ever—     This, like some other of our LORD's actions, was     emblematical & prophetic.

    “This fig-tree,” says Origen, “was a tree representing the     people, a living fig-tree, on which was pronounced a     curse suitable to its condition;

    for, therefore the synagogue of the Jews is unfruitful, &     will continue so till the fulness of the Gentiles shall     come in.

4] And the disciples heard it—And took notice of the words.

Matthew Henry, Nonconformist [1662-1714] | Mark 11:12-18

    CHRIST looked to find some fruit, for the time of gathering     figs, though it was near, was not yet come; but HE found none.

    HE made this fig-tree an example, not to the trees, but to     the men of that generation.

    It was a figure of the doom upon the Jewish Church,     to which HE came seeking fruit, but found none.

    CHRIST went to the temple, & began to reform the abuses     in its courts, to show that when the Redeemer came to Zion,     it was to turn away ungodliness from Jacob.

    The scribes & the chief priests sought, not how they might     make their peace with HIM, but how they might destroy HIM.

        A desperate attempt, which they could         not but fear was fighting against GOD.

Albert Barnes, American Theologian [1798-1870] | Mark 11:12

    See this passage explained in the notes at     [Matthew 21:18-22; Mark 11:11]

1] Into the temple—Not into the edifice properly called     "the temple," but into the "courts" which surrounded     the principal edifice.

    Our Saviour, not being of the tribe of Levi, was not permitted     to enter into the holy or most holy place; & when, therefore,     it is said that HE went into the "temple," it is always to be     understood of the "courts" surrounding the temple.

    [See the notes at Matthew 21:12]

2] And when HE had looked round about upon all things—Having     seen or examined everything.

    HE saw the abominations & abuses which HE afterward corrected.

    It may be a matter of wonder that HE did not "at once" correct     them, instead of waiting to another day; but it may be observed     that GOD is slow to anger; that HE does not "at once" smite     the guilty, but waits patiently before HE rebukes & chastises.

3] The eventide—The evening; the time after three o'clock p.m.

    It is very probable that this was before sunset.

    The religious services of the temple closed at the offering of the     evening sacrifice, at three o'clock, & JESUS probably soon     left the city.

Matthew Poole, Nonconformist [1624-1679] | Mark 11:12

    See Poole on "Mark 11:11"

Matthew Poole, Nonconformist [1624-1679] | Mark 11:11

    See Poole on "Matthew 21:12-17, where having so largely     spoken to this part of the history, considering also what     Mark & Luke have to complete the history, few words will     be needful about it here.

    Though Mark seems to relate it so, as if the first day CHRIST     came into the temple, looked about it, & did no more till HE     came back from Bethany [whether HE went that night] the     next day, yet the other evangelists’ relation of it would make     one think otherwise, besides that interpreters think it not     probable that our SAVIOUR the 1st night should only look     about, & patiently see & suffer those abuses; most do     therefore think that our SAVIOUR the 1st day did cast out     those that sold & bought in the temple.

    In the notes upon Matthew we have given an account of the     market in the court of the Gentiles, which was the outward     court of the temple, where, through the covetousness of the     priests, some say there were constant shops.

    In the temple there were, the most holy place, into which the     priests only entered, & the holy place, into which entered     all the circumcised, whether native Jews or proselytes:

              these two places they accounted holy.

    But there was also a court which they called the court of the     Gentiles, of which they had no such esteem, but allowed     the keeping of shops & markets in it, especially before the     Passover.

    Concerning our SAVIOUR’s driving out these buyers & sellers,     [See Poole on "Matthew 21:12-13]

    In those notes also I have fully opened the history concerning     our SAVIOUR’s cursing the barren fig tree, & given what account     interpreters do give of the difficulty arising from Mark 11:13,     as to which I have nothing to add here, save this only,

            offering it to learned persons to consider, whether the             sense of these words, ou gar hn cairov sucwn, be any             more than, for there were no figs.

    HE found nothing but leaves, for there were no figs, as if it     had been ou gar hsan suca.

    So as cairov there should neither signify the common time     when figs use to be ripe, nor yet signify the seasonableness     of the year for figs, but particularly relate to that tree, which at     that time had no figs.

    But enough has been before said as to that text.

John Gill, Baptist & Calvinist [1697-1771] | Mark 11:12

1] And on the morrow—The next day early in the morning, when     they were come from Bethany; CHRIST, & HIS twelve disciples.

    The Syriac & Persic versions read,

    "when HE came out of Bethany"; though not alone, but with     the twelve disciples, who went with HIM there, & returned     with HIM, as appears from Mark 11:14,

    as HE & they came out of that place early in the morning,     having ate nothing, before they came from thence,

    HE was hungry; [See Gill on Matthew 21:18]

Geneva Study BIBLE, ‎Protestant Affiliation [1557-1560] | Mark 11:12

    And on the morrow, when they were come from Bethany     HE was hungry:

Donald Spence Jones [1836-1917] | Mark 11:12

1] And on the morrow, when they were come out from Bethany     HE hungered. This was, therefore, the day after Palm Sunday     [as we call it]—on the Monday, 11th day of the month Nisan,     which, according to our computation, would be March 21.

    HE hungered.

    This showed HIS humanity, which     HE was ever wont to do when HE was     about to display HIS Divine power.

    The fact that HE hungered would lead us to the conclusion     that HE had not been spending the night in the house of     Martha & Mary.

    It is far more likely that HE had been in the open air during     the previous night, fasting & praying.

Donald Spence Jones [1836-1917] | Mark 11:11

    This visit to the temple is not mentioned by Matthew.     It is an important addition to his narrative.

    The moment of our LORD's triumphant entry into Jerusalem     was not the moment for the display of HIS indignation     against the profaners of the temple.

    HE was then surrounded by an enthusiastic & admiring     multitude; so HE contented HIMSELF on this occasion     with looking round about upon all things     [περιβλεψάμενος πάντα].

               HIS keen & searching eye saw at a glance all                 that was going on, & penetrated everything.

    But without any comment or action at that time, HE went     out unto Bethany [it was now eventide] with the twelve.

    No doubt the disciples, & especially Peter, saw what was     involved in this visit of inspection, which prepared them for     what took place on the morrow. [Mark 11:11]

          Mark 11:11 | ¹¹ Then JESUS entered Jerusalem &           went into the temple courts. HE looked around at           everything, but since it was already late, HE went           out to Bethany with the Twelve.

Cambridge BIBLE, Anglican Editor John Perowne [1882] | Mark 11:12–19

    The Second Cleansing of the Temple

1] HE was hungry—Probably, after a night of fasting;     “shewing HIS Humanity, as usual, when about to give      a proof of HIS Deity, that we may believe HIM to be     both GOD & Man.” Bp Wordsworth.

Expositor's Greek Testament, William R. Nicoll [1897-1910] | Mark 11:12-14

    The fig tree on the way [Matthew 21:18-19].

Jamieson-Fausset-Brow, Anglican & Free Church of Scotland [1871] | Mark 11:12

1] And on the morrow—The Triumphal Entry being on the     1st day of the week, this following day was Monday.

2] when they were come from Bethany—"in the morning"     [Matthew 21:18].

3] HE was hungry—How was that? Had HE stolen forth from     that dear roof at Bethany to the "mountain to pray, &     continued all night in prayer to GOD?" [Luke 6:12];

    or, "in the morning," as on a former occasion,     "risen up a great while before day, & departed into a solitary     place, & there prayed" [Mark 1:35];

    not breaking HIS fast thereafter, but bending HIS steps     straight for the city, that HE might "work the works of HIM     that sent HIM while it was day?" [John 9:4].

    [Matthew 21:18; Luke 6:12; Mark 1:35; John 9:4]

       ●  Matthew 21:18 | ¹⁸ In the morning, as JESUS was            returning to the city, HE was hungry.

       ●  Luke 6:12 | ¹² In those days, JESUS went out to the            mountain to pray, & HE spent the night in prayer to GOD.

       ●  Mark 1:35 | ³⁵ Early in the morning, while it was still dark,            JESUS got up & slipped out to a solitary place to pray.

       ●  John 9:4 | ⁴ While it is daytime, we must do the works of            HIM who sent ME. Night is coming, when no one can work.

    We know not, though one lingers upon & loves to trace out     the every movement of that life of wonders.

    One thing, however we are sure of—it was real bodily hunger     which HE now sought to allay by the fruit of this fig tree,

        "if haply HE might find any thing thereon";

    not a mere scene for the purpose of teaching a lesson, as     some early heretics maintained, & some still seem virtually     to hold.

#hypocrites #profession #professor #hot air #blowing smoke #smoke & mirrors

[zeldaspeaksmindfulness]

Lookingglass Theatre Company

In Collaboration with WBEZ Chicago present the World Premiere Audio Play of

Her Honor Jane Byrne

Written and Directed by Ensemble Member J. Nicole Brooks

Thanksgiving Day at 11am and Saturday, November 28 at 2pm

Chicago, IL–Lookingglass Theatre Company, in collaboration with WBEZ 91.5 Chicago, presents a World Premiere audio play of Her Honor Jane Byrne, written and directed by Ensemble Member and Mellon Playwright in Residence J. Nicole Brooks. Her Honor Jane Byrne will air on Chicago’s NPR news station WBEZ 91.5 FM and wbez,org on Thanksgiving Day, Thursday, November 26 from 11am-1pm CT and Saturday, November 28 from 2pm-4pm CT.

Chicago is “The City That Works”—but does it work for everybody? It’s 1981, the city’s simmering pot of neglected problems boils over, and Chicago’s first woman mayor is moving into Cabrini-Green. Is this just a P.R. stunt, or will it bring the City together? For the next three weeks, residents, activists, media, the “Machine,” and the Mayor herself will collide as the City’s raw truths are exposed. Tune in to find out who will come out on top in Lookingglass Ensemble Member J. Nicole Brooks’ bold new work, Her Honor Jane Byrne?

Her Honor Jane Byrne premiered on the Lookingglass stage in March 2020 just five days before the Theatre had to close due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Lookingglass Theatre Company has partnered with WBEZ, Chicago’s National Public Radio Station, to present Her Honor Jane Byrne as a radio play.

The cast features Ensemble Members Christine Mary Dunford (Jane Byrne), Thomas J. Cox (Alderman Roti, Swibel, Photographer, Evidence Tech) and Tracy Walsh (Reporter, Kathy, Claudia) with Robert Cornelius (Black Che, Seller), Nicole Michelle Haskins (Tiger, Rival Kid), Renee Lockett (Mabel Foley), Frank Nall (O’Donnell, Jay McMullen, Daley, Spilotro), Josh Odor (Superintendent Brzcek, Tavern Owner, Bodyguard, Pilot, Host), Taron Patton (Marion Stamps), Willie “Mudlife Roc” Round (Kid, Tral).

The creative team includes Michael Huey (composer), Christopher M. LaPorte (sound designer), Artistic Associate Wendy Mateo (associate director) Jason K. Martin (dialect specialist), Sarah Burnham (production manager), Jeremy Phillips (production assistant) and Ensemble Member Philip R. Smith (casting).

“Our play joins history to myth. Some of it is dramatic interpretation, and some of it is real,” comments J. Nicole Brooks. “When you grow up in a city that’s hyper segregated, run amuck with corruption, and political stunts and discord, you have to work hard to love it. I love the city of Chicago. I love the history. I’m fascinated by ethnic clans. I’m curious about patronage, councils, aldermen, and committeemen. Who gets elected and how? Who gets to lead us, and will they actually listen to us? Though I was very little, I can remember when it was announced that Mayor Jane Byrne was moving into Cabrini-Green. Can she stop the violence? Well, no one person can. Here we are decades later, asking the same questions. I hope our audiences walk away with a bit of the past, so they may know how to shape our future.”

““It was devastating to close Her Honor Jane Byrne last Spring just after it opened.  A play takes years of work to get it to the point of production, and this play was speaking directly to our city about our city.  So we are thrilled and grateful to WBEZ for giving us a new platform to share J. Nicole Brooks’ timely and brilliant play in its new audio form,” comments Artistic Director Heidi Stillman. “Over the past months since the show closed, it’s subject matter has only become more relevant. Her Honor Jane Byrne is ambitious, timely, and an important piece of work about the way geography, race and inequality line up in Chicago – and how choices made in the past are still playing out in our city today.”  

This project is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts. The following sponsors generously supported the premiere of Her Honor Jane Byrne on the Lookingglass stage last spring: Production Sponsors—National Endowment for the Arts and Edgerton Foundation; Lead Sponsors—Melinda McMullen and Duncan Kime; Production Support—Leigh and Henry Bienen, Linda Karn, Rachel E. Kraft and Douglas R. Brown, and Abbie Roth.

About the Artists

J. NICOLE BROOKS (Playwright/Director/Lookingglass Ensemble Member) is an actor, playwright, and director. Recent theatrical credits include Lottery Day (Goodman Theatre), Beyond Caring (Lookingglass Theatre Company), and Immediate Family (Mark Taper Forum, Goodman Theatre). Directing credits at Lookingglass include: Thaddeus & Slocum: A Vaudeville Adventure (co-directed with Krissy Vanderwarker), Mr. Rickey Calls A Meeting, and Black Diamond. J. Nicole is author of Fedra: Queen of Haiti, Black Diamond: The Years the Locusts Have Eaten, The Incredible Adventures of Yuri Kochiyama, HeLa, and Her Honor Jane Byrne.

ROBERT CORNELIUS (Black Che, Seller) is making his Lookingglass Theatre debut with the world premiere of Her Honor Jane Byrne. Other Chicago credits include the world premiere of Lottery Day at Goodman Theatre; The Total Bent at Haven Theatre in association with About Face Theatre; Rightlynd, Spiele 36, On the Block and Whitley at Victory Gardens Theater; Picnic with American Theatre Company, W;t with The Hypocrites, Raisin with Court Theatre, Taming of the Shrew at First Folio Theatre, Hamlet at The Gift Theatre, and Aida at Drury Lane Theatre. Regionally, Robert has worked at Indiana Repertory Theatre, Milwaukee Repertory Theater, Madison Repertory Theatre, Montana Repertory Theatre, and St. Louis Black Repertory Theatre. Film/TV credits include: Chicago PD, South Side, Shameless, Hoodlum, and The Chi.

THOMAS J. COX (Alderman Roti, Swibel, Photographer, Evidence Tech/Lookingglass Ensemble Member) most recently appeared at Lookingglass in 20,000 Leagues Under the Seas. A founding Ensemble Member, Thom has appeared in many productions since 1988, including: Cascabel, The Jungle, The Odyssey, West, The Arabian Nights, The Master and Margarita, The Great Fire, Nelson Algren: For Keeps and a Single Day, 1984, The Old Curiosity Shop, and Peter Pan (A Play). Regionally, he has appeared at Goodman Theatre, Writers Theatre, Steppenwolf Theatre Company, Northlight Theatre, The House Theatre of Chicago, Court Theatre, The Gift Theatre, Victory Gardens Theater, and Milwaukee Repertory Theater. Most recently, Thom was seen in Bernhardt/Hamlet and A Christmas Carol (Goodman Theatre) and Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom (Writers Theatre). TV/Film: Brotherhood (Showtime), Chicago Fire (NBC), Since You’ve Been Gone (Miramax).

CHRISTINE MARY DUNFORD (Jane Byrne/Lookingglass Ensemble Member) has appeared in nearly two dozen Lookingglass productions. Christine’s three most recent productions include Blood Wedding, Trust, and Our Town. For Lookingglass’ 25th Anniversary Season in 2013, she directed her own original adaptation (Jeff nominated) of Still Alice, based on the book by Lisa Genova, which has been translated into multiple languages and is being produced in small theatres across the world. Over the years Christine has served the company as managing director and director of development, and she co-founded and taught with Lookingglass’ Education and Community program. Christine is Director of the School of Theatre and Music at the University of Illinois at Chicago; and she co-founded and helps run the Memory Ensemble—a partnership between Lookingglass and Northwestern’s Alzheimer’s Disease Center (CNADC)—that uses improvisational performance activities to improve life for people with memory loss.

NICOLE MICHELLE HASKINS (Tiger, Rival Kid) is making her Lookingglass debut! Acting credits include: The Color Purple (Drury Lane Theatre), U.S. Premiere of Hopelessly Devoted (Piven Theatre Workshop, Jeff nomination: Best Actor in a Play), Caroline, or Change (Firebrand Theatre, Black Theatre Alliance Award nomination: Best Supporting Actress in a Musical), Spitfire Grill (Refuge Theatre Project, Jeff Award Nomination: Best Supporting Actress in a Musical), World Premiere of HeLa (Sideshow Theatre Company); Music Man, Father Comes Home from the Wars Parts 1,2 & 3, and How to Catch Creation (Goodman Theatre), The Wiz (Kokandy Productions, Jeff Award nomination: Best Supporting Actress in a Musical), Parade (Writers Theatre), and RENT (Theo Ubique Caberet Theatre). Proudly represented by Shirley Hamilton. School at Steppenwolf Acting Fellow 2014, Associate Artist with Black Lives, Black Words, International Theatre Collective, and MOSAIC Youth Theatre of Detroit Alum.

RENEE LOCKETT (Mabel Foley) is making her Lookingglass debut. Last seen in First Floor Theater’s Jeff recommended Sugar in our Wounds. Other Chicago credits include: Familiar (Steppenwolf Theatre Company, Jeff nomination: Ensemble), Surely, Goodness and Mercy (Redtwist Theatre, Jeff nomination: Performer in a Drama, Black Theatre Alliance Award nomination: Best Actress), A Wonder in My Soul (Victory Gardens Theater), Crowns (Fleetwood-Jourdain Theatre, Black Theatre Alliance Award nomination: Best Ensemble). Renee has also worked with Babes with Blades, Court Theatre, Northlight Theatre, MPAACT, Prologue Theatre, Collaboraction Theatre Company, Three Cat Productions, Black Ensemble Theater, ETA  Creative Arts, and Black Lives, Black Words. Renee is an ensemble member of MPAACT and an Artistic Associate with Black Lives, Black Words. Most recent Film credits include: The Plow and Freelancers Anonymous, as well as TV roles on The Chi and a recurring guest star role on Comedy Central’s South Side. Renee is represented by DDO Artists Agency.

FRANK NALL (O’Donnell, Jay McMullen, Daley, Spilotro) is making his Lookingglass debut in this powerful piece by J. Nicole Brooks. A member of the Artistic Home Ensemble, Frank was last seen in their production of Vanya on the Plains as Elijah. Other Chicago credits include: Frankenstein (Remy Bumppo Theatre Company, Jeff Award winner) and Traitor as Howard (A Red Orchid Theatre, Jeff Award winner). Film and TV credits include: the CNN reporter from Spygame, Transplant surgeon on Empire, Carlisle on Boss, and assorted commercials. Frank has an MFA from the University of Illinois Urbana–Champaign.

JOSH ODOR (Superintendent Brzcek, Tavern Owner, Bodyguard, Pilot, Host) is working with Lookingglass for the first time. Chicago credits include: To Catch a Fish and Blood and Gifts (TimeLine Theatre), El Grito del Bronx (Goodman Theatre/Collaboraction Theatre Company), Oorah! (Steppenwolf Theatre Company/LiveWire Chicago), Scientific Method and The Firebirds Take the Field (Rivendell Theatre Ensemble), Welcome to Jesus (American Theater Company), Moment, The Last Days of Judas Iscariot, and The Resistable Rise of Arturo Ui (Steep Theatre), You on the Moors Now (The Hypocrites), Life On Paper (Jackalope Theatre), Hit the Wall (The Inconvenience), Winterset (Griffin Theatre), The Nutcracker (The House Theatre of Chicago) and Sweet Bird of Youth and The Time of Your Life (The Artistic Home). Regionally Josh has worked at the Long Wharf Theatre. TV/ Film credits: The Chi, Chicago Med/PD/Fire, Boss, Betrayal, Janie Jones, Empire, and The Express.

TARON PATTON (Marion Stamps) returns to the stage in Her Honor Jane Byrne. Producer credits includes: N (Greenhouse Theater Center) and Misty Tanner (Q&A Productions). Directing credits: N (Greenhouse Theater Center) Saturday Night, Sunday Morning (Steppenwolf Garage Rep), Bulrusher and Nativity Tribute (Congo Square Theatre). Acting credits: Meet Vera Stark (Goodman Theatre), Hot L Baltimore (Steppenwolf Theatre Company); The Bluest Eye (Steppenwolf Theatre Company and New Victory Theater), King Hedley II (Congo Square Theatre), and Joe Turner’s Come and Gone (Goodman Theatre). Television credits: The Chi, Empire, Chicago PD, Chicago Fire, Chicago Med, A Different World.

WILLIE "MUDLIFE ROC" ROUND (Kid, Tral) is a songwriter, playwright, videographer, mentor, and hip-hop artist hailing from the West Side of Chicago, who has performed across the country and opened for Grammy Award-winning artist Lil Wayne as well as Gucci Mane. He does extensive outreach in the North Lawndale neighborhood in Chicago (also known as “The Holy City”) and has mentored inner city youth as part of the College Mentoring Experience, as well as his own youth movement called MUD LIFE (Motivating the Urban to be Determined). He holds a B.A. in Communications, Radio, and Television Broadcasting from Central State University. His play Broke Down Drone (also co-written with G. Riley Mills) played during the 2019 Peacebook.

TRACY WALSH (Reporter, Kathy, Claudia/Lookingglass Ensemble Member) is a Lookingglass Ensemble Member where she has performed in, choreographed, directed, and written many plays on the Main Stage and for the Lookingglass Young Ensemble. In recent seasons at Lookingglass, Tracy provided dances for The Steadfast Tin Soldier, wrote, directed, and choreographed Cassandra for the Young Ensemble, provided intimacy choreography for Beyond Caring, movement for Acts of God, and choreographed Blood Wedding. She appeared in and choreographed Iphigenia in Aulis (Court Theatre/Getty Villa in Los Angeles), choreographed Agamemnon (Court Theatre) and appeared in and choreographed Electra (Court Theatre). Other Chicago choreography credits include: Arcadia and All’s Well that Ends Well (The Goodman Theatre), The Jewel Box and Don Giovanni (Chicago Opera Theatre), Carmen (Court Theatre) and the Napoleonade (Eclipse Theatre Company). Tracy and her husband own and teach at Lighthouse Yoga in Evanston.

FACT SHEET

Her Honor Jane Byrne will air on Chicago’s NPR news station WBEZ 91.5 FM and wbez,org.

Title:                                        Her Honor Jane Byrne

Written and Directed by:         Ensemble Member J. Nicole Brooks

Featuring:                               Ensemble Members Christine Mary Dunford, Thomas J. Cox and Tracy Walsh with Robert Cornelius, Nicole Michelle Haskins, Renee Lockett, Frank Nall, Josh Odor, Taron Patton, and Willie “Mudlife Roc” Round.

Creative Team:                        Michael Huey (composer), Christopher M. LaPorte (sound designer), Artistic Associate Wendy Mateo (associate director) Jason K. Martin (dialect specialist), Sarah Burnham (production manager), Jeremy Phillips (production assistant) and Ensemble Member Philip R. Smith (casting).

Dates:               Thanksgiving Day, Thursday, November 26 from 11am-1pm CT and Saturday, November 28 from 2pm-4pm CT.

                      Also happening online with Lookingglass

The Steadfast Tin Soldier

Lookingglass Theatre Company presents the holiday stream of Ensemble Member Mary Zimmerman’s The Steadfast Tin Soldier. Experience Chicago’s beloved holiday tradition with your family this holiday season, as the production streams into your home this December! Based on Hans Christian Andersen’s story about a little tin soldier who never gives up, this production is a gorgeous spectacle of music and movement that is perfect for the whole family.

Online access to the production is $25 and includes Livestream and On Demand. An Opening Night Livestream will take place December 1, 2020 at 6:30PM Central. Opening night is $75 and includes a pre-show event with live music hosted by Ensemble Member Kasey Foster, who plays the Ballerina in The Steadfast Tin Soldier. Following the show, Artistic Producer Kareem Bandealy will host a Q&A with Adaptor/Director and Ensemble Member Mary Zimmerman, Co-Sound Designer, Composer and Ensemble Member Andre Pluess, and Costume Designer Ana Kuzmanic.

Tickets are on sale now at www.lookingglasstheatre.org.                                                                    

The cast of The Steadfast Tin Soldier features Ensemble Members Kasey Foster (Ballerina) and Anthony Irons (Goblin), with Joe Dempsey (Nursemaid), John Gregorio (Rat), and Alex Stein (Steadfast Tin Soldier).

Original music for The Steadfast Tin Soldier is composed by Ensemble Member Andre Pluess and Amanda Dehnert. Musicians include Leandro López Várady (Music Director/Piano), Greg Hirte (Violin), Juan Horie (Cello), and Constance Volk (Flutes).

The creative team includes Todd Rosenthal (scenic design), Ana Kuzmanic (costume design), TJ Gerckens (lighting design), Ensemble Member Andre Pluess and Christopher M. LaPorte (sound design), Leandro López Várady (associate arranger), Ensemble Member Tracy Walsh (choreography), Ensemble Member Sylvia Hernandez-DiStasi (circus choreography), Chicago Puppet Studio (puppet design), Amanda Herrmann (properties),Rigability Inc. (rigging design), Katrina Herrmann (stage manager) and Liz Anne Larsen (assistant stage manager). The production was filmed in 2019 by HMS Media.

The Secret Passage

The Secret Passage is a digital membership that reveals a corridor of hidden doors. And behind each door lives an exclusive peek into the Lookingglass process. From mind-expanding artist conversations to first-ever play workshops to archival audio recordings of our former glories to discounts on classes and public Lookingglass events, the perks of the pass will cast you as a true “insider” and a key player in preserving our future.  

The Secret Passage memberships are $50, for access through August 2021, or $8 monthly. Members will receive a discount to The Steadfast Tin Soldier, along with access to the following monthly programming, plus more to be announced:

The Jungle Radio Play by Upton Sinclair, adapted and directed by Ensemble Member David Schwimmer

The Master and Margarita Radio Play, by Mikhail Bulgakov’s adapted by Artistic Director/Ensemble member Heidi Stillman, directed by Heidi Stillman and Ensemble Member David Catlin, featuring many Ensemble Members including David Schwimmer, Philip R. Smith, Joy Gregory, and our beloved friend and Steppenwolf ensemble member Mariann Mayberry.

           The Scarlet Letter Radio Play by Nathaniel Hawthorne, adapted by Ensemble Member Thomas J. Cox

Lucy and Charlie’s Honeymoon Sneek Peek, a new musical by Artistic Associate Matthew C. Yee

The Hidden Door: Artist Conversations: Online conversations featuring exclusive conversations with Ensemble Members David Schwimmer, Kevin Douglas, Mary Zimmerman, Mellon Playwright in Residence J. Nicole Brooks, Anthony Fleming, Kareem Bandealy, and David Catlin, among others.  

Live Concerts: Coffeehouse and House Party, features Artistic Associates Matt Yee and Sully Ratke, with a special appearance by Ensemble Member Kareem Bandealy. House Party is an intimate concert by Ensemble Member Kasey Foster and partner Charlie Otto.

For more information on The Secret Passage, visit lookingglasstheatre.org/secret-passage

About Lookingglass Theatre Company Inventive. Collaborative. Transformative. Lookingglass Theatre Company, recipient of the 2011 Regional Theatre Tony Award, was founded in 1988 by eight Northwestern University students. Now in its 32nd Season, Lookingglass is home to a multi-disciplined ensemble of artists who create story-centered theatrical work that is physical, aurally rich and visually metaphoric. The Company, located in Chicago’s landmark Water Tower Water Works, has staged 70 world premieres, received 161 Joseph Jefferson Award Nominations, and produced work all across the United States. In 2016, Lookingglass received the MacArthur Award for Creative and Effective Institutions and in 2017, was the recipient of the League of Chicago Theatres’ Artistic Achievement Award.  

Lookingglass continues to expand its artistic, financial, and institutional boundaries under the guidance of Artistic Director Heidi Stillman, Executive Director Rachel L. Fink, a 29-member artistic ensemble, 22 artistic associates, an administrative staff, and a dedicated board of directors led by Chair Nancy Timmers and President Richard Chapman. For more information, visit lookingglasstheatre.org.  

About WBEZ Chicago

WBEZ, Chicago’s NPR news station, serves the community with fact-based, objective news and information. WBEZ’s award-winning journalists ask tough questions, dig deep for answers and expose truths that spark change and foster understanding. In addition to its local and national news programming, WBEZ Chicago is home to a growing portfolio of popular podcasts, including the “Making” series of Making Beyoncé, Making Obama and Making Oprah; an investigative podcast series, Motive; 16 Shots: A podcast about the fatal police shooting of Laquan McDonald; Nerdette; and Curious City. WBEZ Chicago has a legacy of innovation as the birthplace of nationally acclaimed programs such as This American Life, and Wait Wait...Don’t Tell Me! and the ground-breaking podcast, Serial.

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[ff15trashgoldenslumbers]

Friday the 13th

I’m not superstitious but I have very strange luck, but Friday the 13th is always an “off” day for me. A knock came at Noctis’s apartment door among the rain falling over Eos. It could only be the final member of their group, their spellcaster, finally ready to join their monthly veg-fest.

“I got it!” Prompto beamed bouncing over the couch to the front door, flinging open the door with a bright smile, “Olive about time, what happened?”

The young woman was standing in the threshold, wearing her training attire, rather than her normal street clothes. Shivering heavily, so much so that with each exhale she was breathing a fine icy mist, from her ice powers activating. Her typically straight dark brown/black locks, currently kinky and twisty in their natural pattern.

“I got splashed…” She muttered handing Prompto her bag, as she begun to remove her soaking wet tennis shoes and socks.

“Here you are,” Ignis called, handing her a towel.

“Thanks.” Olive smiled forcibly, as she begun to dry herself the best she could.

“You can borrow my tub.” Noctis offered, knowing the woman loved his large whirlpool tub and would spend hours in it if given the chance.

“Thanks.” She echoed again, as she began her slow journey to the bathroom, leaving her companions staring at her in confusion.

As Olive begun to strip in the bathroom, the tub filling with water, she honestly believed that she should have gone home. Yet at this time home was a 45-minute train ride of wet clothes, and she’d rather be surrounded by the guys at this point. She considered herself not superstitious, but what else could it be? All of this bad luck, and it was Friday the 13th.  

Yet for whatever reason today, some god was using her as their own personal bad luck charm. She was typically lucky, as she won quite a few things, and Prompto would often have her grab blind boxes as she would often draw the ones that he wanted. Or Noctis would have her tag along to go fishing with him so that he got a lucky cast. Yet every so often she would get these really annoyingly unlucky days, but this seemed to be one of the worse.

She had hoped that it would stay outside, yet unfortunately, the bad luck had followed her into the apartment. None of Noctis’s haircare would work on her, so she was forced to just soak her hair, and deal with it later. Plus the only care products she had left over from the last time she crashed her was a sea salt scrub, that was almost expired and used by the Prince, an almond mask, and a travel size body wash.

Yet somehow the mask ended up in her eyes, so she stood from her warm bath embrace to grab a towel to clean her face. Thus only succeeded in only further smearing her mask deeper into her skin, and getting salt from her salt scrub in her eyes, causing the woman to go flailing out the tub. She would normally be fast enough to roll so as not to cause damage, but she was blinded and already having an off day! At least her body had enough muscle memory to spin last second, landing her on her side, rather than slamming her face first into the heated tile flooring.

Olive laid on the bathroom floor, one leg dangling into the warm comfortable water, while she laid across the heated tiles staring at the ceiling, trying to decide if she would just lay here forever and wait for someone to come collect her or get back up.

A knock came at the door, follow a concerned Gladiolus’s voice, “You good? We heard a crash.”

She sighed softly, “Yeah, just hanging out.”

“Noct left you something to wear outside.”

“Thanks.” She called hearing the large man walk away. Double checking to make certain that nothing was broken, and only sustained with a bruised ego and possibly back. She carefully scrubbed at her face and body, before climbing from the tub, only to almost slip on the wet spot she had made. Drying herself off and placing the towel on the floor, Olive looked to the grand mirror. There was no way she was going to even attempt to dry and flat iron her hair. Knowing that if anything she was going to end up burning a chunk off.

Instead, she rose her body temperature slightly higher with magic, at least willing her thick hair to dry instead of getting the clothes Noctis had let her barrow wet.  At least she didn’t have any magic mishaps today, that would have been horrid to have accidentally lit someone on something on fire or freeze them to death.

Pulling on Noctis’s T-shirt and pajama pants, and tying her long hair in pigtails, she moved back into the living room where the others were waiting.

“You okay?” Prompto asked, noticing the redness in her eyes from her mask and salt scrub.

“Yeah, just an off day,” Olive muttered, rubbing at a burning eye. “Is Iggy making dinner?”

“Yeah.”

Olive moved into the kitchen to help the man, maybe being around someone as calm and collected as Ignis would help calm down all this unluckiness that was following her around.  Besides she liked learning from the other. “Hey, need any help?”

“If you would not mind,” Ignis called, as she moved to his side, already taking up the vegetables to be washed. “Is everything all right, Olive, you don’t seem your typical self.”

“Just a really, really bad day.” She muttered, ripping the leaves from the head of lettuce.

“Care to explain?” Ignis inquired.

Olive began to tell the tales of her day, careful to keep her voice from cracking, it was honestly at this point just a lot to deal with but maybe getting it out would make her feel better. She didn’t want to seem weak but it was really rough and everything just kept going bad, unaware of the three listening from the living room.

Today alone, her alarm didn’t go off, after already having a rough time getting to sleep, resulting in her making a dash to get to the Citadel of a shift she picked up from Crowe.  Three ponytail holders snapped, so she was forced to use a rubber band that she knew she would have to cut out by the end of the day. She forgot lunch, which resulted in eating a light Noctis’ lunch of vegetables.

Someone had stupidly left their three-day-old protein shake on top of the wrestling mats, which resulted in her getting the entire front of her outfit chunky and no amount of showers managed to get the horrid smell from her clothes or skin. She instead settled for just burning her clothes and wearing her training attire. Yet that wasn’t even the worse part, in training for whatever reason Cor put her against Tredd.

Everyone knows that she and Tredd get along like Chocobos and Tonberries, but as everyone else was new recruits it honestly fell down to just the two of them. She managed to get a few lucky hits and knock the cocky asshole off his feet. Yet one of his lucky lighting strikes hit her just right, resulting in her body jolting to a stop, and he got lucky to pin her. Now that’s a thing she has to deal with for the next few weeks! The ass already gloated enough!

Now with all that over and done, she was ready to head to Noctis’s place and just relax and veg out. Yet nope! Some Astral had it out for her! As while walking to the apartment as it had been a rather nice day, it decided to downpour! Just soaking her completely to the bone, her straight hair now curled into kinky ringlets, and surprisingly work out attire doesn’t make for good rain gear and on top of all that! A car decided it wanted to set a new tidal record to appease Leviathan all over her!

“…and of course I’m certain I’ll have to spend 3 hours on my hair, and the whole, Shit!”

Ignis turned at the woman’s curse, as he noticed that woman had nicked her finger with the peeler, it wasn’t like her to be clumsy. If anything she had more balance and form than anyone he knew, himself included, quickly rinsing her finger, and properly bandaging the wound, she had cut deep enough to draw blood but not enough to require medical attention.

“Olive.” He called softly, yet she refused to meet his gaze.

Olive gasped, as she felt Ignis engulf her within a hug, it wasn’t Ignis to show affection this way, yet she still felt her eyes start to water up. She wouldn’t cry, she was a member of the King’s Glavie, she was strong!  One of two of the only women to become a member of the Glavie. Big Girls don’t cry!

Yet the second she felt someone sneak underneath Ignis’s hold, and then black hair within her vision, followed by blonde, and then a tighter squeeze around the three pairs of arms already surrounding her, she felt tears start to leak from her already burning eyes.  A hiccup left her body, as she held in her sobs, not wanting to appear any weaker than what she already was feeling.

She heard a soft whispering above her, yet couldn’t make out the words, only feeling Gladiolus and Ignis release her. Both Prompto and Noctis gave her another squeeze, before Gladiolus scooped her up rather easily, as she was the smallest and lightest on the team. Moving her back to the couch, as he sat down with her on his lap, only to then have a lap full of Prince and Photographer, as they both cuddle up to the woman who was attempting to dry her face. Prompto resting his chin on her shoulder, while Noctis rest his head on her lap.

“We all have bad days, Liv.” Prompto muttered, playing with a curl. He was always fascinated by her hair when wet.

“You can cry to us,” Gladiolus stated.

Olive smiled softly, her fingers raking through the black locks on her lap, “Thanks, guys.”

The four of them sat on the couch until dinner was deemed ready, Ignis not wanting to interpret their cuddle pile, yet they all needed to eat, and the last thing Olive had eaten was dinner the night before. The woman managed to crawl off of Gladiolus’s lap long enough to shove at least two meals along with Noctis’s veggies down her throat before being considered full, and carrying her dishes to the kitchen to be cleaned.

“What are you doing?” Ignis inquired, watching the woman moved to grab a towel to dry the dishes he had already cleaned.

“Helping?” She offered, confused, she often helped clean up after meals.

“Not tonight you’re not,”  Ignis stated, as he dried his hands, moving over to the woman, scooping her up, before moving back into the living room. “Noct, Prompto, if you don’t mind.”

Olive blinked in confusion as she was deposited back on the couch, then had two men laid across her lap like a dog and cat attempting to share the same person. “Not fair.”

“I’d rather you comfortable than injured,” Ignis replied moving back into the kitchen.

The rest of the evening was spent watching tv and eventually resulted in Noctis and Prompto playing a few rounds on the game station.

“We should turn in for the night,” Ignis suggested, trying to get Noctis on a sleep schedule, yet the Prince still would take naps all through the day and return to sleep with no problem in the evening.

“You, me and Liv in Noct’s bed,” Prompto called. “You good  with that Liv?”

“You’ll have to ask her in the morning.” Gladiolus chuckled.

Everyone turned, finding the woman curled up head resting her head on the armrest, her body curl small enough to fit on Gladiolus lap. The woman often using the larger man as a heating pad to keep herself warm at the two ran polar opposites.

“Come on shorty,” Gladiolus called, easily lifting the woman up, yet she remained out cold. “Must have been one rough day, if she’s still out.”

“Than we should properly see her to bed.” Ignis chuckled, leading the way to the bedroom.  “Careful.”

“I got her,” Gladiolus replied, placing a knee on the bed before lowering the woman to the bed, as Noctis’s pulled back the covers.

Laying on her back the woman had a smile tug on her lips, as she felt something cuddle into her left side, then her right. Cracking her eyes open, she looked to the two men leaving the room, “I think we can all fit.”

A few hours later the woman woke up to the sound of snoring, before realizing that everyone had indeed managed to fit on Noctis large custom-made bed. Arms and legs draped across one another, she couldn’t help but smile.

She had to admit she was rather lucky.

#final fantasy drabbles #ff15 drabbles #ffxv drabbles #final fantasy xv fanfiction #ff15 fanfiction #ffxv fanfiction #Noctis Lucis Caelum #prompto argentum #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #friday the 13th is the worse #lucky #fan #drabbles #FF15 Headcanons #final fantasy xv head #ffxv headcanons #final fantasy 15 headcanons #OC insert

[mollymauk-teafleak]

The Seal Lullaby: Chapter 3

Next chapter! Long one this time.

Thanks to @minky-for-short @childofdustandashes @purearcticfire

Also a huge thanks to @brainypaperbullets who did some utterly fantastic fan art for chapter one that just completely blew my mind, excellent stuff.

For years, people in the village had tutted and shook their heads over the folly down by the beach, one of the slowly disintegrating and weathered cottages that were always found in little towns like this. In such a tight knit and curious community, often forced into close quarters in the bar or the diner or the café by the habitually bad tempered weather, such things were well thumbed conversation topics. They called it a waste, an eyesore, a pile of rubble that should have been swept off their coastline a long time ago or at the very least turned into something useful.

But of course, if it had, what would they talk about?

So, it was an expected but still odd twist of irony that when the young couple of strangers turned up and actually started rattling around in the old house, it caused more suspicion and exasperation than relief. Though the potential for grumbling conversation in the church hall was frankly delicious. Though now they muttered sullenly, chewing over who these two could possibly be, they looked like they were barely out of school, nothing more than kids really. And how on earth did they get the money to fix up that old place, the work it must be taking to make it habitable didn’t bear thinking about. The noise alone of them sawing and hammering and scraping was ghastly, must be scaring all the wild birds away. And lord above only knew what they were doing sleeping in the back of the banged up old car they’d arrived in, apparently until the cottage was complete; that was much too close of quarters for some of the older residents’ liking.

The whole situation just reeked of something suspicious and would clearly come to nothing good and someone should probably do something.

But then the two of them started coming into the village, ransacking the thrift store for furniture, obviously, nothing short of delighted with their haul of chairs, a table, a sofa, a bed and more bookshelves than could ever possibly be needed, none of it matching in size, shape or colour. They also bought food, kitchenware, some clothes more suited to the weather than the ones they’d arrived in, candles and matches because apparently, the power wasn’t working just yet. The second-hand bookstore they hit with the most savagery, buying just short of more books than could be carried. The need for the many bookshelves became quickly obvious. The couple blew through the town, building themselves a ramshackle, patchwork life of random antiques, oddities and well-loved cast offs that ended up having an undeniable charm and warmth to it, all in the space of a Saturday afternoon.

The shopkeepers who witnessed their scavenger hunt all congregated in the same corner of the bar that night and all reported the same thing to a rapt audience. Despite the general air of downright peculiarity that surrounded them, the two seemed like a genuinely sweet pair of young folk, a lovely couple.

They all described the girl as very pretty, with a sweet soft face, an easy smile and a general friendliness that led to everyone who encountered her finding themselves in a companionable chat within two moments. She asked questions and listened well, her musical laughter often making an appearance. They all told of how she consulted lists and checked things off, cooed appreciatively over homemade preserves and cakes and wall hangings, brought a light and brevity with her everywhere she went. And she’d paid for everything without a moment’s hesitation.

Eliza was how she’d introduced herself. Eliza Schuyler.

The lad who accompanied her they all agreed was …an odd one. Sweet. Funny. Animated. But most definitely strange. They passed around stories of how he became fascinated with an antique globe at the thrift store, spinning it around with seemingly infinite devotion, eyes bright as he took in the carefully painted surface. He’d nearly cried with joy when Eliza had asked if he wanted to buy it. The proprietor of the store also suspected that he was the reason the two had left with a stuffed weasel, a rocking horse and a large glass ornament as well as the essentials. The grocer was slightly concerned, claiming that she’d witnessed him put a whole floret of broccoli in his mouth, nearly keeling over and spitting it out immediately as Eliza apologised profusely. By that point, Eliza and the grocer were sharing cups of tea as she taste tested her homemade marmalades so all was forgiven quickly. His most glowing commendation came from the old bookshop owner who’d fallen in love with the pair of them over the three hours they’d spent in his store. For all his eccentricities, the boy had known Shakespeare’s sonnets like the back of his hand and had been eager to discuss them and their potential interpretations at great length. And still, he’d had a smile and an enthusiastic handshake for everyone he met, his rapid and clever talk charming almost everyone.

He’d given his name as Alexander. No last name.

What was also agreed upon was how good they seemed to go together. Their youth was troubling but they had the rapport of people who’d been married for decades, finishing each other’s thoughts and actions, moving in some kind of unspoken synchrony, keeping perfect beat with each other like it was as natural for them as breathing. They were a little shameless, kissing lightly and taking hold of each other’s hands, wrapping arms around waists and lips brushing necks, exchanging loving gestures easily and simply, just because they could. While a little disarming, it was lovely to watch.

So maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, then, them setting up in the folly, turning it into a home for themselves. They certainly seemed nice enough. There were still a lot of unanswered questions though such as where they’d come from, where their money had come from, what they were planning on doing now they had their unusual little curiosity shop of a home.

But hey. At least they would give the villagers something to talk about.

“Alex, is this straight? I can’t tell from here” Eliza had to raise her voice to call to him from the kitchen, pinned as she was to the wall, trying to wrestle one of the large posters they’d fallen in love with at the antiques store into submission. Given that it was a pretty damn sizeable copy of Nighthawks, it was proving to be easier said than done.

She heard the quiet pad of his footsteps behind her. He always moved so quietly and quickly, it had taken her quite a while to get used to it, to stop nearly hitting the ceiling in shock as she found him suddenly right at her shoulder when he’d previously been across the room. But she was getting better, settling in to sharing a life with him, adapting to his quirks and habits. Granted, given that he wasn’t exactly human, she was dealing with a little more than most would.

“Right side needs to go up a little,” Alex informed her, sounding like he had something in his mouth. Which wasn’t a surprise, his metabolism seemed to run a lot faster than hers, “No, wait, that’s too much…”

Eliza followed his careful instructions until she heard him chirp, “Okay! Perfect!”

With a sigh of contentment at a job well done, she hopped down off the sideboard and was planning on pulling him into a hug. Instead, she found herself stopping dead and giving a small yelp of laughter.

“Alex! Baby, what did I tell you about clothes?”

Alex looked unbothered, crunching on one of the chocolate chip cookies Eliza had made and regarding his decidedly naked body, “What about ‘em?”

“That generally? People wear them. At most times of day, a solid ninety nine percent, I’d say,” Eliza snorted with laughter.

“But I don’t see the point,” Alex slipped into his commonly used, playfully argumentative tone, “It’s just strange, I’m not cold so why would I cover up?”

She rolled her eyes in exasperation, coming and resting her hands on his chest, “There’s other reasons to wear them. Call it societal convention.”

“Not where I come from,” Alex correctly pointed out, gesturing at her with his half-eaten cookie, “And I get your point about when we’re in town and stuff, I’ll accept that, even if I don’t really get it. But it’s just you and me here! This is our territory! So, what’s the issue?”

Eliza opened and closed her mouth, annoyed at how he was such a good debater after only a few weeks spent being human, thrown off by the adorable little slips of the tongue he still made, “I’m just saying. It’s irregular.”

Alex’s face cracked into a lopsided grin, “I am irregular!”

“Can’t argue with that,” Eliza said fondly, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Now come on, naked or not, you’re helping me unpack.”

They were getting along quite well under Eliza’s natural organisation. The sea of cardboard boxes had gradually dwindled to a lake, then a river until now there were just puddles that needed mopping up. It was doing wonders for her soul, building their home out of abandoned items and pre-loved junk and recycled odds and ends. She’d been happier in the last few days, sanding down the edges of the bureau and gluing the teapot back together and putting the doors back on the wardrobe and making scavenged doorknobs make peace with the wrong doors, covering every available surface in fun, bright, hand painted patterns and doodles. She hammered and sawed and replaced and matched, Alex proving himself very useful, quickly picking up the idea of aesthetics and artistry despite the fact that there was never much call for it under the waves. Eliza had always loved creating and making things, giving things new purpose and helping them fit together in new ways and now she found herself undergoing a similar transformation. As she patched up the holes in the sheets and brought the scraps of a few different materials together into a functioning set of curtains, she would run her thumb across the slightly wonky lines of stitching and feel similar marks on some deep part of herself, the signs of something broken and tattered being made whole again. Except some of the patching, most of it in fact, wasn’t her own handiwork. It was Alex’s.

Everything in the little cottage was mismatched, nothing was designed to go together, by all laws of fashion and design it was a travesty. But somehow it worked. All the scraps and patches came together in just the right way.

Eliza rested her head against Alex’s chest. She did that a lot, the sound of his heartbeat, just faster than a normal pace by enough of a margin to feel off and unusual, it soothed her. Grounded her. When the sun came down and those creeping doubts made themselves known, living in between her ribs and coming skulking out and weeping plaintively that she’d made a mistake, what had she done, running off with a psychopath who claimed to be from another world? They reminded her of how her mother had cried, the tense set of her father’s jaw as Eliza had explained that she was moving, she was leaving. Dropping out, packing up her stuff and leaving, just like that. There had been raging and yelling and pleas to her sanity that must have rocked the beach house. Alex certainly heard it from halfway down the beach, she’d been able to tell that much in the anxious tear tracks he had tried to wipe away before she saw. But through it all, Eliza had just taken deep breaths and told them the truth; she wasn’t trying to hurt them, she didn’t hate them, it wasn’t their fault. And it wasn’t. They loved her sincerely. They’d tried to give her the best life possible. It was just that their definition of what the best life was varied just a little bit too much from Eliza’s. She’d tried to explain all this as she’d outlined her plans to go back to Albany, pack up as much of her stuff as would fit into her car and just go. She promised to call and write often, she promised she was being safe and she’d find a job, she’d be okay. But whether they’d understood or even heard her over all the yelling, she didn’t know. She hoped it would eventually sink in for them, after the initial shock died down.

In all of it, Alex didn’t come up somehow.

The sour little voices whispered all this to her, forced that scene to play out in front of her eyes over and over. And when it was dark outside and cold and misty and the wind seemed to take offence at their depriving it of the chance to blow the folly right off the hills, retaliating by rattling the weakened windows and making the shutters bang and crash, it was hard to fight those thoughts off.

But then there was always Alex. There was always his unusual heartbeat thumping soothingly against her ear. There were always his wiry arms wrapping around her. There were always the escaped wisps of his long hair tickling the bridge of her nose. And in those moments, Eliza would be sure she had made the right decision.

Tonight, was no different. Eliza was wrapped up in one of the baggy University of Chicago sweatshirts she’d stolen off her sister and nothing else. Alex had been persuaded into shorts and a t shirt, mostly by Eliza commenting how cute he looked in them. The fire was going, chattering away by itself in the hearth, their cups of tea were cooling on the floor by the couch. Eliza was simply daydreaming, using Alex as a cushion while he devoured one of their latest purchases from the bookstore. The scene was so perfect, so picturesque, that Eliza was very annoyed when her phone went off, shattering the quiet expertly. That is, until she picked it up and saw that it was her sister Angelica.

She’d been fielding a lot of calls from her sisters recently as they mediated the fallout between her and her parents. She felt sorry for them, having to take on such a hard and thankless task but it had to be done. That was family. Eliza had done her fair share when a certain eldest Schuyler had eloped with her graduate student boyfriend of two months. Even that storm had eventually calmed, which gave her hope for her own.

Though, in fairness, John Church had been a twenty-nine-year-old English aristocrat wastrel with a sizeable estate and trust fund and an affable charm, generous spirit and deep love for Angelica, once you sat down and talked with the guy. Which was a far cry from a shapeshifting Selkie.

Eliza rolled her eyes at herself as she answered the phone, “Hey, Ange.”

“Eliza,” Angelica was still feigning anger at her sister, even when they both knew it was nothing more than bewilderment and exasperation, “Still hanging out in the ass crack of nowhere?”

“It’s pronounced Oregon, actually?” Eliza hummed, smiling wanly, “But yes. Still.”

“No chance you’re going to come to your senses?” she just about heard her older sister’s shoulders slump, “It’s such a shit show over here. I’d say you’re teetering on the edge of still forgivable.”

Eliza winced a little, “They will get over it. They will.”

Alex’s eyes flickered over to her face, she felt him tense underneath her.

Angelica clicked her teeth, a sure sign that she was getting frazzled, “Eliza, you were always the good one. You’ve really thrown them for a loop here, you were their golden girl.”

That made Eliza frown, “I wasn’t. I was just the quiet one that didn’t argue back. Except now I am. Ange, you always knew I wasn’t cut out for all that.”

“Is that all it is?” Angelica’s voice grew a little strained, “Are you sure you’re not in trouble? Hon, you know there’s nothing we can’t fix. If you don’t want mama and papa involved, I get that but I’m always here.”

Eliza realised what she was doing to her older sister. Angelica had always taken such pride in knowing that her siblings came to her with every problem, relied on her like a fairy godmother to soothe any ache with coffee, hugs and witty advice that held both smiles and wisdom. She’d seen them through botched exams, doomed crushes, Peggy’s hair dye disasters and Eliza’s grief for her pets.

And now Eliza had jumped ship without telling her biggest supporter. Angelica wasn’t just scared for her sister or angry at her for causing a family turmoil. She was hurt.

Eliza softened her voice considerably, “I know that, sis, I really do. And I’m really sorry but I’m still figuring out how to explain this. As soon as I know, you’ll be the first person I tell.”

“That isn’t reassuring me, Eliza!” Angelica’s pitch was skyrocketing and Eliza knew for certain that, if there was a hard surface in her sister’s vicinity, she’d be rapping her nails on it.

“I know,” Eliza felt Alex’s hand come up to stroke her hair, sensing that the conversation wasn’t going very well. It helped considerably, “Um, look…it’s a little like your situation, okay? There’s a…a guy.”

There was a long, uncomfortable pause from the other end of the line, Eliza would have feared the connection dropped if the tension wasn’t so palpable.

“Eliza…” Angelica’s tone was warning.

“It’s nothing dangerous!” she hurried to pull her sister’s thoughts back from terrible places, “He’s called Alexander, okay? He’s sweet and kind and gentle and I love him. It’s just that mama and papa wouldn’t get it.”

Alex pricked up at the sound of his name, his hand stalling on her hair.

There was another pause but this one was more relaxed, Angelica just absorbing and processing this information, “Alexander…there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Eliza cursed her apparently omniscient sister, “Yeah. But…it’s not the kind of thing I can explain over the phone. You can come down and see if you want, you and Peggy. Maybe…maybe not mama just yet.”

Alex’s hand was shaking, she could feel it.

“Believe me I will,” Angelica muttered, “And if I can even the slightest hint that you’re in any danger…”

“I know, I know,” Eliza cut her off tiredly, “You won’t. If you see, you will understand. I promise.”

Promises between Schuyler sisters were something almost tangible, something serious. They were never, ever made lightly.

“Surely you can understand, even a little?” Eliza lowered her voice, pleading a little.

“I…suppose so,” Angelica relented, if a little sourly, “But I’m going to have questions.”

“Naturally,” Eliza sighed, “Listen, you know exactly where I am, I’m not hiding. I’ve even got a job, I was talking to the nice lady who runs the tea shop, her brother is the principal of the local school? Their third-grade teacher is about to retire and they can’t get a replacement, I’m meeting with him tomorrow morning…”

Angelica couldn’t keep the wry smile out of her voice, “Who said you couldn’t network, eh?”

“I learned from the best,” Eliza was relieved by the little joke, she really was forgiven then.

“Well, I’m appeased but not satisfied. I’ll be down there soon, okay?”

“I hope so,” Eliza smiled, meaning it, “Love you, Ange.”

“Love you too, Liza. Stay safe.”

She gave a genuine sigh of relief as she put the phone down, getting to return to her peaceful little corner of the world. Angelica would forgive her. Peggy already admired her sheer balls more than she was bothered by her decision. So, there were no troubles there, she knew her sisters.

Her parents would be a different story, that outcome was still uncertain. But Eliza had known there was going to be some price to pay, the happiness she’d managed to find would have felt insincere if there hadn’t been some cost.

Still, she didn’t have to like it.

She realised then that Alex was still tense. As she craned her neck to look at his face, she felt her heart twist. He wasn’t good at hiding his emotions, not in any sense, so his fear and anxiety were sharply clear on his expression. He needed help, she knew that in an instant.

Eliza twisted out of his grasp so she could be the one holding him instead, “Baby? Alex, it’s okay, it went well.”

“She’s coming here,” Alex murmured faintly, not meeting her eyes, “Your sister.”

Eliza closed her eyes briefly. Maybe that had been stupid of her to say but there’d been no other way to shrug off Angelica. She certainly should have discussed it with him first.

“I…not any time soon, she’s busy but…yes. Eventually,” she relaxed her hold on him, anticipating him pulling away.

He didn’t but his voice grew more strained and he drew closer to one of the dark, mournful moods he was accustomed to. If Selkies had any concept of anxiety attacks, he’d have a word for it, maybe he wouldn’t be so scared of his own emotions. Eliza had been trying hard recently to help him with that.

“She’ll see what I am. She’ll know, she’ll hate it, she’ll take you away from me…”

Eliza’s heart dropped fully and she pulled away so she could look into his eyes, through the tears there.

“No, Alex, I promise. Not my sister, she’ll listen to me,” Eliza tried to soothe him, to let her certainty ground him.

Alex just whimpered, looking unconvinced, his pupils darting around, scared and agitated.

“Alexander!” Eliza pulled his focus back to her with a firm half cry to silence his panic. Once his chest stopped heaving and his shoulders relaxed a little, she stroked her thumbs across his cheeks and murmured in a much gentler tone, “You can trust me, Angelica and Peggy won’t hurt you, they won’t interfere. They…well, they’ll probably guess that something is up but once they see we’re happy together, that will be enough for them.”

“It will?” Alex’s voice was small, his eyes begging her for reassurance.

Eliza nodded, smiling gently, “It’ll all work out, Alex, I know it will. Trust me.”

He swallowed hard and nodded slightly, leaning into her touch, “I do.”

That was enough to give her no choice but to kiss him, the simple and beautiful thing that was having the trust of the person you loved. Alex kissed her back with equal enthusiasm. After a few beats, his hands rested lightly on her hips, hers slid upwards into his hair. She moved forward so her chest pressed against him, her hips met his in a simple, wordless question. He answered by gently tumbling them down, onto his back with her entangled against him.

Their first time hadn’t been in the most romantic of settings, the back seat of Eliza’s car the first night they’d rolled into town. It had been a lot of fumbling and wandering, giggling as their lips met and bumping into each other, clothes thoughtlessly pulled away. But the moonlight had shone on Alex’s back, the window was cold as Eliza’s feet had planted against it, their breaths had misted and melded into one in the air. And it had been perfect.

But now they had space and warmth and time, seemingly endless stretches of it. And Alex and Eliza made full use of it, learning so much about each other’s wants and needs in such a short space of time, falling into it every night; Alex’s appetite seemed to stretch to other areas too and Eliza felt like someone who’d never tasted pomegranates in their life but had woken up in an endless grove of the richest and juiciest. Their bodies just seemed to fit together as naturally as the rest of their lives did in such a beautiful way that they both often found themselves with tears in their eyes when it was over and done.

But there would always be another time.

Right now, Alex was inviting Eliza to take the lead. It had been him the first few times; though he shyly confided that he’d never known anyone else in that way before her, it was more openly discussed and celebrated among Selkies than it was with humans who’d picked up the concept of shame somewhere down the line. . And god, the things he could do to her. She was more than happy to surrender to him. But now Eliza was familiar and hungry and wanted to take the reins sometimes, which Alex was utterly delighted by.

She kept her lips pressed to his, delighting in the coolness of his skin, as her hands roved his body, following the curve of his narrow hips. He had such an endearing awkwardness to his shape, probably the result of having one foot in two very different species. Eliza took great joy and pride in thinking there was nothing in the world quite like her Alex.

She pushed his shorts down his legs, finding him half hard and ready, beautifully responsive as always. She grinned and swept her jersey over her head in one fluid motion, going from clothed to not in an instant. Alex’s jaw still slackened a little and those gorgeous eyes of his always got a little wider at the sight of her body, even now when he was as familiar with it as his own. She was just too beautiful, the way he felt when he looked at her and knew she was his, she wanted him, he’d only ever come close to feeling that on those rare occasions where he’d been swimming, catching the current just right, soaring, turning on his back and looking up at the night sky through the surface of the water and felt perfect freedom.

Eliza decided she wanted to have all of him too, just as he had all of her. He helped her pull off his shirt and send his shorts tumbling to the floor. Every motion that brought them closer resulted in Alex’s lips pressing against her skin, any part he could reach, with a kind of reverence but there was force behind it. Eliza’s collarbone was peppered with faint but discernible marks by the time Alex was naked.

She returned the favour, kissing him deeply as she lined up their bodies and guided him inside her so her high, wild gasp as his full length breached her was muffled against his mouth. The chill of Alex’s skin extended to parts other than his hands, their bodies joined with a clash of temperatures that drew low groans from both of them and spurred them both on to keep going. Alex’s movements were powerful and graceful not unlike someone who was underwater, perfectly fluid and well timed to some swell and pull only audible in his own head. Eliza was helpless in moments, riding him with less finesse but every bit as much drive, working to undo him and succeeding. They strung each other along and pulled back and raced forward in a jarring, powerful rhythm, drawing it out until it was almost painful. Alex unwound first, gripping her hips so hard there would be marks for her to marvel over before they went to bed, his heat flooding into her and tipping her over the edge in turn. She screamed his name, he was too seized to do anything but roar, but the result was the same.

They came down from their peak slowly, collapsing and gasping against each other, eventually laughing once they found the breath to.

“I love you,” Alex mumbled in between their lazy, blissful kisses.

Eliza purred happily, winding her arms around his neck, “I love you too, baby.”

The fire was still going strong, it would burn into the night if they let it. So Eliza made a decision; she couldn’t bear to let Alex go for a moment so they were going to sleep here tonight. Alex chuckled as she pulled the surprisingly soft tartan throw rug they’d picked up over them, catching on to what she was doing, thinking it a fantastic idea.

They fell asleep easily after a mumbled exchange of more ‘I love you’s and ‘goodnight’s, the embers imprinting their tangled shadows against the low stone walls of their home.

  Summer was fast slipping through their fingers and Alex was determined not to let it go completely without one last night on the beach.

Eliza wasn’t about to argue with him. Her new job started in two days and she wanted to spend an evening forgetting how nervous she was, she wanted the opportunity to think about nothing else but the steady rhythm of the waves and how soft the sand was underneath her.

So, Eliza made some pasta, something with a lot of vegetables in it, continuing her crusade to wean Alex off his initial diet of Oreos and cheese puffs with the occasional bowl of chicken soup. He wasn’t complaining too much, he kept telling her that whatever she made for him it would be miles better than years and years of nothing but cold, raw fish. Eliza supposed he wouldn’t be in the mood for sushi any time soon. They took their bowls out on the sand, curling up together on one of the many blankets they owned and enjoying just sitting side by side and watching the sun sink below the horizon line. After a while, Alex pulled her head into his lap so he could wind his fingers through her hair in a loving gesture that brought comfort to them both.

But, from this vantage point, Eliza could read his expression clear as day. And it unnerved some deep part of her. His eyes were fixed on the rocking, timeless rhythm of the waves with a kind of wistfulness and fascination that made her want to hold onto his hands fiercely and cling to him, just in case he started to slip away. Why she should feel like she was in danger of losing him, here in such a perfect moment of closeness, she had no idea. But still, she felt it.

“Alex?” she said quietly, hardly loud enough to be heard over the waves breaking on the shore but still, he turned to her.

“Bestey,” he replied warmly, fondly. He’d been playing around with different nicknames for her over the past few weeks, trying and testing different terms of endearment and affection to see what felt right. Some, she imagined, were rooted in his heritage; she’d never heard any human call another ‘my anchor’ or ‘my firm tide’ or ‘my current that carries me home’. She liked the sweet, playful shortening of her name that he seemed to have settled on, liked the way it sounded soft and buoyant in his voice.

“Everything okay? You look…” she struggled for the right word, eventually settling on, “Distant.”

For a moment, he looked like someone who’d been caught out. There was a flash of guilt in the depths of his eyes but it was gone before she could really pin it down, “I was just daydreaming.”

Eliza let the worry drop from her hands, he didn’t have the look in his eyes anymore and the anxiety it had given her was fading. She didn’t much fancy chasing after it, not when they were having such a lovely time.

Alex piped up, “You know how you were telling me why the café lady and the library lady wear those rings on their hands?”

“Because they’re married to each other,” Eliza nodded, Alex asked roughly a million questions a day about human life but that wasn’t one she’d been expecting to resurface.

“Yeah,” Alex nods, “I remember. And you said people got married because they loved each other and that was a way of telling everyone about it.”

“Sure,” Eliza smiled. He never forgot anything she told him, his mind was like a lake that didn’t seem to have a bottom, always more space for new facts and titbits of knowledge which he collected with the fervour that magpies collected shiny objects.

“Well, could we do that? Could we wear rings and be married and I’d be Mrs Schuyler?” he asked, a little hopefully.

“Mrs is for women,” Eliza chuckles gently, “You’d be a Mr.”

“Oh, right. Mr Schuyler,” he corrected himself, nodding, “But could we? Because it’s like mating, right, and we’ve done that? This seems like the human version. So we should, right?”

Eliza couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up in her chest, “Why, Alexander, are you proposing to me?”

“I think so?” he giggled too, always finding her laughter infectious.

Young girls were supposed to wistfully wonder about the day they were proposed to, Eliza thought, but she didn’t suppose any of them would expect something like this. Or be so delighted with it.

She sat up so she could cradle Alex’s face in her hands as she gave him the deepest and most passionate kiss she could manage. He responded in kind almost immediately, tasting lemonade on her tongue, the kind of sugary, uncomplicatedly delicious flavour he’d only ever found on dry land. It tasted like the idea that something could exist for the sake of its own beauty and pleasure, that there could be happiness and contentment without cost. It was a lot to take away from just the scent of lemons and sugar in a kiss but Alex nothing if not complicated.

“Although…” Eliza murmured, little creases taking shape as she thought intently.

“What?” Alex lifted an eyebrow, faltering slightly. He’d taken the kiss as a pretty firm yes?

“No, no,” Eliza scrambled to soothe his worry as fast as possible, “Of course I want to, I absolutely want to. It’s just that getting married needs…um, papers? And ID and stuff and records and birth certificates. You…you don’t have any of that?”

Alex’s face fell a mile, “Oh…”

This was starting to feel like yet another thing from her world Eliza would never have, all because of him. Like her parents and her old home and her old friends, a relationship she could show off proudly to other people rather than having to dodge and improvise, yet another thing she was going to have to sacrifice because of him. He loved her so very much, he just wanted to show that in every way he could, he wanted every title and trinket and honorific there was to make it clear he was devoting himself to her. Such things just didn’t exist in his old life but they did out here and he just wanted to do this properly.

Eliza sat up, shifting the sand underneath them and bringing him back to her. She looked at him with fondness and warmth, one hand still gently resting on his cheek.

“Alex,” she sighed, “Don’t worry. The only thing that matters to me about all that ceremony is the promise, y’know? And we have that! We have that in spades!”

“In what?” Alex tilted his head but his smile was slowly creeping back onto his face.

“I mean…okay, here,” Eliza reached down the front of her sundress, searching. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath; she and Alex had decided to entertain themselves as the food was cooking and finding wherever her bra and panties had been flung afterwards hadn’t been top priority. So, it was easy for her to retrieve her necklace.

It was a simple but beautiful thing, like all the jewellery Eliza wore, bought from an antique store in France on some hazy, blissful summer vacation years ago. She and her sisters had disappeared in there to escape the heat and she’d found the silvered pendant in the shape of a paper sailboat, like the kind children made to float across ponds and puddles. Finding it had been like discovering some wonderful treasure or relic and she’d worn it nearly every day of her life since then.

But now she swept it off her neck easily and fastened it around Alex’s. It rested in the valley of his chest like it had been made to lie there.

“Okay,” she met his eyes, her voice breathless and excited, “I, Elizabeth Marie Schuyler, promise to love you, Alexander, for the rest of my life and share everything I have with you and look after you when you feel ill and protect you…and hug you when you’re sad? And…and let you watch those dumb sitcoms you like and not laugh when you wear odd socks…” she broke off as she started to laugh, running out of domestic declarations of love, deciding to finish with simply, “And give my heart only to you. Forever and ever.”

Alex blinked back tears and fought against the closing of his throat, smiling deliriously back at her. He looked down for something to offer her in return, he wore no jewellery, he had no possessions that weren’t shared with her anyway. Hell, he was wearing nothing but a pair of shorts with a hole in the crotch.

But then he knew.

“I’ll be right back,” he grinned through his delighted tears, setting off back to the cottage at his usual, just a little faster than strictly human speed.

Eliza sat back on her heels to wait for him, wiping at her own eyes and grinning like she’d never stop. She felt a little naked without the weight of the necklace, even though it had never been all that noticeable. She didn’t care though, in fact, it was what she wanted, she wanted to be at least a little changed by what she’d just done. She wanted there to be some marker that distinguished who she was then with who she was now.

Alex came back after just a few moments and what he held in his arms fully changed this from what could have been a fun, silly little game between the two of them into something real. He carefully swept his sealskin around her shoulders like an old-fashioned cloak, before the shock wore off and Eliza could think of protesting. It didn’t feel at all like she’d thought a seal’s skin would, just as it didn’t look exactly like the picture she’d held in her mind after the first-time Alex mentioned it. There was barely any weight to the material, more of a prickling, tingling sensation like static. And from the second it touched her skin, it was like Eliza could feel the waves themselves in her chest, a rolling sensation and the cold patter of spray and the sharp smell of salt. She was so moved by it, she barely noticed the deep shudder that ran up Alex’s spine. But she definitely heard the groan that tore from his lips, the kind of noise she’d heard him make before as her hands and mouth and skin had brushed the most intimate parts of him. It startled both of them, Alex was suddenly blushing and his pupils were suddenly dark and wide and wanting.

The words came easily, “I, Alexander, promise to love you, Eliza Schuyler, until the end of my days and all days, swim side by side with you until I have nothing else to give. I promise to guard you from the tide that seeks to separate us and the storm that threatens to lose us and the shark that comes to tear us. I swear, with me you shall always have warmth and security and safety and love, as much as you need until your heart is full. I am yours.”

The words were designed for another cadence, another voice, a language that Eliza would never be able to know. But they worked just fine as they were.

Wiping her eyes had been a waste of time; they were back to flowing freely as she kissed him again, both of them moving to seal their new, nameless bond as the sun finally surrendered completely to the horizon and night fell.

Eliza was still wearing his skin ten minutes later as she bucked and writhed on their bed, Alex’s mouth busy between her legs, avidly working her over. After that, her necklace swung and struck his chest in a perfectly regular, bouncing rhythm as he rocked and moaned while her long fingers opened him and pressed hard on his sweet spot. And when they were both spent, they lay tangled up together in aching, exhausted contentment, looking through the forest of books they owned for their new name.

Eliza rejected ‘Shakespeare’ outright. Alex thought ‘Poe’ hit the ear wrong and, besides, his stories weren’t that scary. ‘Gaiman’ wasn’t quite right, neither was ‘Pullman’ and ‘Voltaire’ was just ridiculous. ‘Austen’ was on the table for a while until Eliza realised that the alliteration would make his name sound clunky. It was Alex who eventually found the right one, lying right there on their bedside table, from the cover of the almost offensively huge science fiction pulp he was currently enjoying. Eliza thought it was only fair to let Alex have the last word, seeing as this was his first go at it.

They ran their new names over each other’s tongues for ages, passing them back and forth with delighted, childlike grins. The skin would return to the varnished chest at the foot of their bed, despite its exchange of ownership. The little silver sailboat would stay around Alex’s neck for the rest of their time together. And, eventually, they would get traditional wedding rings for themselves, as a first anniversary present. But these surnames were always going to be the truest and realest symbol of their marriage.

Alexander Hamilton.

Eliza Hamilton.

#comments and feedback would be great #this one gets smutty so watch out #hamliza #alexander x eliza #selkie au #the seal lullaby