#I am much emotion and litle thought

[splynter]

I just woke up so I’m not gonna sound caps excited but

Holy shit okay how dare you attack me while I was sleeping. What the hell. The audacity. How dare you be good at art. What is this. The shading- The little plant stuff around their eye I’m obsessed with. Holding little boi in their arms for snuggles (which they definitely do often). The smol is so soft. How you did their dissolving halo- You basically amplified my lazy art and made it RTX HD wtf

Boi how do I grab you through my screen and shake you. The audacity. Medibee you must confess your sins immediately. Holy shit

@splynter teehee :) about time that I drew NRD! + more Seer because I adore them

[art-now-poland]

Childhood gardens XI, Magdalena Nałęcz

Let me tell you about my latest exhibition "The Choidchood gardens". The people who saw my exhibition stressed these paintings were not only a very well-composed canvas, full of subtle colours, profesionally painted and of good workshop, but also this was the story full of contexts. Fot me, this cycle of paintings means the challenge whoch I plased for myself. Creating these canvas was the return to the childchood time and the years of growing-up. They are a memory of colours, scens, emotions, places, events and people, who in particullar fell in the memory of a litle girl and which have returned in the works of an adult woman. They are the tale collected on the black and white photos from an old family album. They bring back to memory the time when I was a litle girl and in the first week of the september every year my grandmather used to take me to the best photo atelier in the city. These photos captured my growing-up. Today, looking at them brings back to life the colours of a turqoise dress, of yellow brows and of red wernished shoes. These colours come to existence in the colourfulness of the painting cycle. One of the contexts of the exhibition is that it is universal becouse each of us can find oneself in it. Each of us must have one's old album and memories captured in it. Each of us experienced moments in life which were particullary important. We all met friendly and hostile people who saped us and our life story. For that reason this cycle of paintings - "The childchood gardens" can be very special for you, becouse it forces us to bring back to life the most secret memories ant emotions. These canvas are associated indifferent ways. I, myself, am constantly discovering new perceptions at the paintings. The most similar understanding of the theme is the one presented by Carlos Saura in the move "Feed the ravens". “I have thought for a long time that I have wings” “Childhood Gardens,” a series of paintings by Magdalena Nałęcz, is an exceptional collection. In the middle of her life, the artist is painting pictures in which she returns to the days of her childhood. Is it an attempt at recapitulation of her life or rather an unusual and nostalgic journey back into the past, a retrospection and reminiscence of the most important places and emotions connected with them? Or perhaps breaking a spell of sadness brought by memories which are not very cheerful? Magda’s journey into the land of childhood does not lead inside the happy walls of her family home. Quite the opposite – the house is omitted. Memories concern, above all, the gardens enchanted with reminiscence, some elusive moment remembered by the colour of a dress, the shape of a ribbon knot, the tying of booties. The garden space is safe: it is a shelter which allows dreaming. It is a hiding place in which a person grows up, becomes mature and comes out into the world. It is a place filled with profound experiences, failures and sorrows, but they are immersed in colour which will give comfort to the artist for her entire life. However, do not let us be deceived by apparent calmness of a well-kept garden. No idyllic image of childhood is there to be found. No birdsong can be heard – birds are unattainable and their voices are confined in a cage guarded by a beautiful but sad little girl. She looks like a doll or like a prop carefully chosen for the remembered picture, for the memory of a school badge on her arm and clean white knee-socks. She is waiting, motionless. She is dreaming. She feels the wings of blue butterflies, which she is going to spread much later, while painting another gardens. Intense colours throw very distinct light on little girl’s sadness. She is alone. She seeks for the strength and warmth of the wolf, a guardian of her safe garden. Only the memory of an excursion to the lake recalls a blithe moment of playing with her mother… Only then the heroine becomes again a laughing child. The enchanted garden of Magda’s childhood is far from Frances Burnett’s secret garden where children perform their own rituals to help their friend recover. Yet both gardens seem to have one thing in common: the magic power to heal the soul. The power of wings that may carry us high if we make a little effort. Magda opened a garden which had been closed for years. I hope she will find roses there, and remember that she has wings to fly. And we, while wandering around her childhood gardens, become engrossed in reading our own memories, warding off sorrows and searching for our lost wings. For, as Wisława Szymborska has said: “Everyone of us has their own childhood. We can safely say that it never ends, and it even comes back to us when we think it is irretrievably lost. This depends partly on ourselves how we are going to remember it.” So let us wander around Magda’s gardens, feeling the wings of her butterflies on our backs; feeling the warmth and strength of good wolves who will always protect us. Magdalena Kąkolewska

https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-Childhood-gardens-XI/837541/3317937/view

[melis-ash]

have you watched elite's season 4 finale already? what are your takes on caye and phillipe? no judgements here tho, just want to know your opinion on them

 Hello, nonny! Yes, I did. My opinion about Caye and Philippe has several different aspects (which a litle bit conflict with each other).

Lets write long post.)) Sorry for mistakes and typos, English is not my first language and I`m not really good with grammar.

1) Caye and Philippe story is feminist retelling-reverse of the Beauty and the Beast, where main characters didn`t became couple and The Beauty left her Beast not for Gaston other romance, but for her own path. And their relationship helped the Beast to realize his past mistakes and make to want to fix it, even if it`s too late . Comparing with many other things in that season that storyline was not bad. Really. There MANY problems with s4, I think the best stolyline had Rebe and Mencia, it was really good, and in my personal opinion, despite many flaws, Caye and Philippe storyline is second one for me. Kinda it was not really good, but it had plot, idea, composition and message. Writers knew very clear, what they tried to say, and despite obvious lack of screen time, they handle it, and this story, despite it doesn`t connect with main plot, resonate with main storyline on the level of their ideas. (About it later.) I know, Georgina is feminist, so I wonder, could she give some advice writers? Kinda “it can work better if...” something like it.

2) Personally I`m very disappointed how OOC was Caye in that season and how few screen time she had. For me Caye from s4 feels like too much different person than in s2-3. I wanted character development for her, but something more slow and realistic. S4 Cayetana feels like all her character development happened between s3 and s4 (and partly in special, which really was very good), and I don`t believe in it. Caye from s4 is good character, but there is no real connection with Caye from s2-3.

I knew, she was very upopular character in s2-3, so maybe creators afraid to gave her too much screen time. But also they still wanted she was part of story and write redemption arc for her. And honestly, anon, these two thing can`t work together well. When you write redemption arc for well written nuanced character that Cayetana was in s2-3, you need give character enough screen time and nuances. But it seems, s4 writers don`t care enough about writing S1-3 characters in character. In s2-3 Caye was bad girl, but also she was comedy relief (but s4 has very few comedy moments), she had family (where the fuck her mother and granddad now? We know only that her mother cannot work in Las Ensinas, but don`t know, why), we saw, that she did`t sleep almost, because she learn in Las Ensinas, worked as janitor and still hung out with rich kids. (I think I began feel compassion for her, when realized it). It that seson she almost has not other scenes than with Philippe. OK, she was pariah in school during previous year, but if writers began that things with Caye and Rebe friendship, can they continue it. Rebe and Caye both had problem with their love interests and they never discussed it. Only time they speak about Philippe was in 402. Also Benjamin fired Azucena, and wanted to expel Samu and Omar, but Caye still works there? And Benjamin still protects her even? Why? I mean, after whole thing with scam in s2. Maybe it because protection of Polo`s mothers, but it never was said in s4 even. It seems, Benjamin knows things about her story with Polo (like he knows about Philippe`s past), and it could be really interesting possiblity to bring on scene that aspect of situation and Benjamin`s character and him and Caye interaction. 

Also there is something with Georgina`s acting in s4, in most of scenes she acts as different character, so maybe it was and her (as actress) decision too. I wrote before, she is feminist, and maybe she wanted to bring more feminists vibes in s4 Caye, because it makes storyline works better? Given how few connection with previous seasons on script level her s4 story had, it make sense even, it`s just feel OOC for me, because Caye is not feminist at all. She is strong and ambitious, but she is not type of women what call themselves feminists, and when she said “I became my own Fairy Godmother” in s2, she meant that she was forced to do it. Caye was girl who wanted to be princess from old school Disney animation. In s3 she wanted to live and study on Polo mother money in London and was fully OK with it. When she refused their proposition, it was because thoughts, that Polo could be alive and even more or lesser happy in other school without those her messages, haunted her. Plus when Polo died, he thought Caye was with him more because his money than because Polo himself. I remember, in her first scene Caye read  The Second Sex, but it was spectacle for her schoolmates. And when she spoke with them about her fake rich life, it always was “look how rich and glamour I am”. Partly she spoke in this way because she knew very few about rich people`s life, but also there were some of her dreams. She wanted to be rich and and be part of this glamour life. In s3 she became in some way, and she had a lot of possiblities to understand how many shit, pain and tragedies can hide for glamour facade. Theoretically she knew it before. But she was exctremely poor, so it was a little bit difficult for her to think about it too much.

3) So I think more mention of Caye`s story from s2-3 could make her and Philippe story better. Philippe himself have same problem as Polo in some way: he is rich guy, and his mother indulged him too much. Caye saw how Polo`s mother indulged him and saw where it ended. Not good for Polo and many other people. Marina and Polo could be alive and Samu`s family could live with him in Spain, if Polo`s mothers raised their son better. Even if Caye don`t care much about Guzman or Samu and she never knew Marina, she had enough time between seasons to reflect of situation. So with more s2-3 reference that “matter of education thing” Caye says to Philippe`s mother could sound not only as sort of feminist  slogan, but as something very personal and painful for Caye. She was in love with boy, who was spoiled too much by his parents (like Philippe), and it brought a lof pain him, his friends, Caye. I don`t say there are not at all attempts include previous Caye experience in s4. For example, when Caye does google research about Philippe and finds nothings, she is still suspicious because she know, how easy money could erase some thing.  Also that thing with Pilippe`s mother. I think after conversation with her,Caye realized that Philippe`s and Polo`s promblems had very much same roots. But such moments really have not enough space. Guzman had at least one scene, where he speak about his reflection on s1 evens (where he compares Mencia and Marina). I would like to see something like it with Caye.

4) Many things in Caye and Philippe storyline feel offscreen. We know they regularly talk in school, but see very few of it etc. Actors have good chemistry, and since they both like fashion design, it feels enough for beginning of communication, plus Caye had crush on Philippe long before they met, plus she was first who was really friendly with him in new school (in some way it`s repeat of Caye and Polo story, but with more positive vibes). But I want to see more illustration, why Philippe fell in love with Caye so much.

5) Now about Philippe himself. I saw many hateposts and hatecomments about him, and it`s really funny, because I constantly see how many people in this fandom love Polo and think he deserved better, despite Polo is murderer. Yes, he killed Marina out of emotion, but she is fucking dead. She will never resurrect. Guzman will remember till grave that his best friend killed his sister and then was killed by Guzman`s ex-girlfriend, because policy failed to handle their job well. Samu`s brother was forced to left Spain because it. But it took 2 seasons for Polo to understand he needs go to policy and confess he killed Marina. Caye didn`t understood how wrong her actions were till Polo`s death. I don`t know how long was Elodie`s rape, but at least Philippe didn`t need someone`s corpse to realize his mistakes. Inside standart of this show that guy isn`t hopeless. “Everybody deserve second chance” was important point in Caye`s story in s2-3, so now I wonder how writers will play this card in s5 in relationship between Philippe and Caye. 

Also I want to say I was wrong, when doubted in Pol Granch acting, he`s good additon to Elite cast.

6) Caye x Philippe storyline and main storyline. In that seson Elite brings of scene, in additon of another murder and drug traid, sex crimes. Prostitution, rapes. It`s interesting, that connection here takes place through Ari, girl, who has serious problem with sexual behavior, when she`s drunk. She`s know it`s perfectly, but also she knows, that when woman says “no”, it`s means “no” and end of story. I really like her role in Caye and Philippe story and I hope in s5 there will be at least some scenes with her and Caye. Also interesting point were Ari`s word that she never report to the police without prove. It feels ambigous. She knows, Phillippe is not angel at all. But also there is other side of coin. I think, she also knows, reputation can be ruined very easy. During s4 there was subplot with discussion club. And Samu speak that ex-criminals cannot become somebody else, even if they wants. Their reputation in society was ruined. In final of Philippe story he sent Elodie his confession. So maybe writers tried to write about theme “can criminal, who admitted his mistakes, to became somebody else?” through season and I think they will continue it in s5.

Sorry if this all sounds muddled and too long. Maybe later I will make some additon into reblogs to this post, I don`t know.

[hes-writer]

Just A Litle Bit of Your Heart (5)

Summary: y/n must make a decision

Warnings: angst

Word Count: 3211 words

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

A/N: apologies for taking over a year to finish this series! thanks for being patient. as usual, let me know what you thought.

The inspiration behind this part is credited to Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami. More specifically, Naoko’s first letter. Some lines were used as is and others were paraphrased. The description of when Watanabe and Naoko had sex are also collaborated along this piece.

I’m really nervous about this.

____

Harry’s words echoed in Y/N’s head; she has never felt such conflicting emotions coursing through her body. Her heart twinged with the need to press her body closer to him because she loves him so dearly. A surge of logical capacities told her to extract herself from the situation--the toxic relationship that they built up to, on the other hand. Did she want to stay with him? Or did she want to leave? Harry was giving her the chance to call it quits right at this moment, to run away from him and start a blossoming relationship with someone else, instead of sticking around and be strung along as he picked up various women on the way to nowhere.

Nowhere.

This would lead to nowhere if she continued to act the way she did. It would be quite tragic to let their relationship strain, only to crash and burn because they didn’t know when to stop. Either she had to change to be more understanding and indifferent or he had to abandon his bachelor ways and return home to her. She didn’t know if both of them could cocoon themselves in a box that they’ve left long before.

That version of Y/N was long gone and she did not know what to make of it; if it was Harry to be condemned for taking advantage of the kindness of her heart, or was it her own fear of being left alone that lead her to being alone? 

Y/N blinked sluggishly at him, lashes casting a shadow on her cheeks as she shifted her gaze away from his curious ones. She was hurting but she didn’t want to hurt him. Somewhere inside her heart knew that that love she held for Harry was too much--and too much love can kill you. 

She didn’t know what to expect from it and Y/N thinks she might be experiencing it now. The subtleness of losing herself to the void, pieces of her that can never be brought back, that will never make another appearance because those were only brought up when he was still the Harry she fell in love with and they were still them. Withering away like a dried flower that hit its peak, the grace and standards Y/N held for herself, the things that made her the woman Harry fell for washed away in the midst of the chaos. 

“I-I don’t know,” 

Harry took a breath through his nose, nipping at his bottom lip, not knowing whether to release a breath of relief because she didn’t break it off or tense tenfold because the option of leaving him was still on the table. 

“We can work it out. We can go to couples therapy, we can do something!” He insisted, frantically spewing out words he thought would alleviate his situation. 

She stared at him, scrutinizing his loveable face, wondering if he knew the extent of what he was asking for. Admittedly, Y/N had her faults throughout. However, she wouldn’t say she was the biggest problem of what had occurred. Sure, it was her idea that got them in this mess in the first place, but it’s not like she wanted it to be this way.  

Harry spoke words to her but it never reached her ears. Frankly, it gave her a headache.

“Am I the problem here?” 

He paused his monologue, hand sifting through his curls. His body was burning in agony, wanting this conversation to be over so he could prove to her that his words were merely a representation of his actions. 

“I can change,”

Harry’s confession fluttered Y/N’s heart-- to hear that he was willing to make this work so as far as to quit his usual habits shafted a glimmer of hope in her heart. He could charge forward right now, even as his heart writhed, slowly sinking in a swamp of near loneliness.  Harry made a courageous gesture to hold her dainty hands in his own, looking deep in her eyes to see a reflection of him pleading for another chance. For a moment, his heart faltered, realizing that all this time she longed for him, and only him. 

She shook her head quickly. There were multiple times when she would reach out with her fingertips to try and touch the light slithering towards her; a symbol of wishes, desires, and expectations.

She always came back empty-handed. 

“My hands weren’t the ones that you wanted to hold. You weren’t searching for my warmth late at night when you were cold. You rather be in bed with someone else,” Y/N stated, strongly at first, then quickly wavering as her emotions led her to think to a place she rarely went to voluntarily. 

His mind flashed back to the countless events where he witnessed her sleeping body draped over the couch living room, waiting for him in the late hours of the night in hopes of sharing a civil conversation with him. Harry could recall himself huffing in annoyance, having to grab a blanket from the storage closet to cloak on her. At that point, he didn’t know if it was decency that made him act that way or if there were lurking feelings hidden in his hard exterior. 

“I feel like such a fool. I feel so guilty of being me because you would distance yourself rather than talking to me about it!”

“I never meant to make you feel that way,” His palms grasped the retaining warmth her hands left, having long since slipped from his hold to fist at her thighs in exaggerated murmurs. They sat on the sofa a few feet apart, an invisible string connecting them to each other. 

“Waiting for you to call me because you needed me, because you missed me, because you wanted to hear my voice is one of the most painful things I have ever had to go through. At least let me know if you still wanted me around.”

“But I do want you around!” He retorted, almost offended that she said those words to him. Her head looked down at the carpet beneath her feet, silently mulling over the words she was to say next. “I still love you,”

Their cries turned into whispers as Y/N smiled sadly, peeking at him with silky eyes as tears threatened to escape her waterline. She shuffled closer, seeing his Adam’s apple bob in his throat in a difficult swallow. Her soft hands brushed the stray curls falling near his face, her thumb caressing his quivering cheekbones as Harry tensed and untensed his jaw nervously. Y/N tilted her head to the side, admiring his features with the most longing and loving eyes he had ever seen. His eyes burned through, she could tell that the curiosity was killing him. 

The moment she made direct eye contact with him-- he felt a surge of warmth overtake his body, butterflies flying all over his tummy and his heart thumped a little faster. She felt like home to him. 

“There was a time when I looked into your eyes and felt so happy,” Her breath hit the tip of his nose, the closeness intimidating him but it didn’t seem to affect her any longer. 

His brows furrowed, “What do you feel now?” 

She gave him a gentle smile, coldness slowly crawling up his spine.

“Sadness. Disappointment.”

A lone tear slipped down his cheek, the pad of her thumb flushing it away, making his skin glisten with the salty liquid. His eyes searched for a sense of reassurance aside from the deteriorating words she used to describe what it felt like to be with him. The desperation he held deepened, his eyes fluttering close in a stuttered breath. His eyelashes dampened with more tears, making it wet and uncomfortable.

“I thought we were gonna make it,”

Harry's throat tightened up, his esophagus constricting with a certain tightness that reverberated to his stomach which was swirling in coils of springing uncertainty and doubt. Truth is, the action of sleeping with other women never really satisfied him. There was still a hole in his heart aching to be filled, to feel complete was something never came easy to anyone, really. 

“We can still make it,”

“Can we?” Y/N’s voice wavered as she blinked her eyes closed, a tear gently sloping down the curve of her cheek. Her lip was sore from being bitten by her teeth, a gnawing action that occurred from the inside to the outside. Harry’s chin quivered, a sob preparing to rip through the confines of his mouth. A strained cry, raw from the base of his throat and embedded deep within his chest. 

------

Harry remembers the mornings after he willingly gave his body to someone else aside from Y/N: the sunlight stabbing straight through his closed eyelids, the dream-like haze bottling his thoughts and feelings in an enchantment that chanted ‘everything was going to be fine’, everything was going to be the same when he came home. Y/N would always be there with her arms wide open in a gesture for a much-needed hug. His head would pound as if it belonged to someone else because his thinking was muzzled to bits and pieces, barely knowing who he was anymore. 

There was absolutely nothing to be gained from sleeping with one woman after another. Aside, from quelling the spurt of arousal taking over his body, the longevity of the action did nothing in the long run. It tired Harry out and made him disgusted with himself more times than he can count. Those women questioned his every touch, instructing him to touch them this way, to kiss them softer, to stop thinking and start feeling the caressing touches of skin-on-skin contact. The excitement of a stranger exploring his body while he retaliated the same conduct was once an idea that had Harry ready to bolt out of Y/N’s arms in a second. 

He wished he could turn back time. Y/N never made demands; all she wanted was his attention, his affection, hugs and kisses and her body swarmed with endless grazes, tracing the stretches of skin that gleamed in the early hours of the morning. His fingertips pressured the imperfections of her body, hair tickling the calves of her legs as the sheets whispered a barrier between their bodies. His chest attached to her back, his lips pressing pecks along the valley of her shoulder, the base of her neck, nuzzling his nose at the nape where her scent was the strongest. 

Harry missed when they explored each others’ bodies in the darkness. There was nothing to be said, no words needed to be spoken between the two of them when their mouths attached to each other in a dazed spell, alluring both of them to give everything they had to the person that meant everything to them. Harry was ashamed to admit that at one point, Y/N ceased to be the one that meant everything to him. For a moment, she was a silver trophy, forgotten and left collecting dust on the shelf. The second best. The back-up. 

Her cry was the saddest sound of orgasm that he had ever heard and it slit his heart with thin slices knowing that although he was the reason for the pleasure coursing through her body, the pain was still floating like a soapy bubble encompassing her entire being, leaving her trapped to subdue herself with artificial happiness until Harry returned home to her. And it went on, the desperation fuming the atmosphere, Y/N’s hesitant hands trembling against the expanse of his stomach as if she didn’t know his body anymore. Her lips working against his as if inexperience littered the skin of her mouth because he changed too much and she didn’t know how he moved anymore. He was an unfamiliar person but her body reached out to him continuously. It went on until Y/N couldn't physically bring herself closer to his without recoiling a few steps back to avoid the stench of the sweet perfume wafting from his clothes, without her stomach gurgling with disgust at the thought of where his hands had been; Couldn’t help but wonder where his heart is now. 

And Harry went on with the robotic schedule to routinely fuck her because he had to. Not because he craved the way she tasted or missed the way she folded herself for him, but because that was what couples did, right? They made time for each other, became intimate and made love while reassuring whispers were exchanged between them. That was the case until he stopped listening. Her wails punctured the hollow in his chest and he couldn’t bear it anymore. He stopped trying, he paused his efforts. He was only doing the bare minimum and without that-- they had nothing. 

Harry didn’t want to but it was all he could do. His body was hungering for other people to fill the void, the lost love that vanished in a moment. Still, Harry thought about Y/N. Her silhouette against the blinding rays of sun catapulting past the curtain in the early morning, her naked body outlined by the moon in the darkness. The soft curve of her lashes tickling the patch of hair on his chin when Y/N looked up at him with so much love and adoration. The sound of the rain pattering on the rooftop, racing past the window and forming a puddle at the ground.

His heart melted with the knowledge of receiving a type of love that rarely ever occurred. A love that sheathed itself with blue cotton candy, clouds of sugary sweetness drifting up to his tilted nose. The softness of the treat skimming his skin like light footsteps, doing everything in its power to leave his heart beating calmly. Until water appeared and saturated their love, disappearing into nothing in a blink of an eye. 

___

There was a lot that Y/N didn’t understand, a lot that she didn’t know. There were so many things that drifted in her mind, incoherent thoughts and incomplete ideas scattered along with her brain. It would take time to organize a million things in an orderly manner. And by then, she didn’t know if it would be too late. Harry hurt her but Y/N was not innocent. They hurt each other in order to fix something that wasn’t profoundly broken; just dented and needing a little tender loving care.

She wanted to dismantle his heart. Tear it. Crush it to bits until it sprinkled heartbreak over their shared bed. Until then, Y/N could finally breathe again. But she couldn’t get herself to do it; she loved him too much to hurt Harry intentionally.

What hell am I doing?

Y/N repeated the question over and over until it became a part of her. Previously, she wouldn’t have thought of doubting her actions. The confidence she carried herself with glazed the mountains of doubts blocking her path. Not once did she regret a decision she made because Y/N knew that she would learn from it one way or another. 

The time she spent being with Harry was one of the most joyous moments of her life. Images of grandeur slipping past her lids to remember the laughter echoing between the two of them, the smiles being larger than life like two twin sunflowers dancing against the gentle breeze of the field. 

With Harry, Y/N experienced heartbreaking pain and suffocating sadness. Tall, ocean waves submerging her in the twilight zone leaving her with no choice but to kick her feet up and try to escape but salty liquid drowned her all around. It felt like there was no escape until she accepted the reality and simply just floated. The buoyancy of her body guided her to a ray of golden light and she tried hard to ignore it because the pain and sorrow were something that she had gotten used to. 

Without vulnerability, they had nothing. It was the base for connection. The part where fear and shame dissolved into thin air because acceptance was what everybody craved for.

With Harry, she let herself be seen. She was vulnerable and honest and skinned to the bone with secrets that she shared with him. Her heart was whole with the amount of love she gave and the abundance she received. She loved him until the end even when there were no more signs of reassurance that the feelings were mutual. She believed that she was enough until he decided that she wasn’t anymore and found someone else, taking her heart with him and crushing it in a fist. 

With Harry, she practiced gratitude and leaned into joy, never having a dull moment in fear of good things ending because they do. Everything has an end; even the bad things. 

With Harry, she learned to scream and voice out her thoughts, never leaving a stone unturned so that honesty was always in transparency. 

With Harry, she stopped screaming and started listening. To him and his obvious need for distance. To him and his silent pleads to leave him alone. To him and his evaporating love, reeking into the air with bittersweet goodbyes. 

Furthermore, she started listening to herself.

What did she want? 

What did she deserve?

___

Her query was answered only a week later when she spoke to him again. Harry’s eyes were filled with the same unbearable sadness that she used to feel whenever Y/N stared at her reflection in the mirror

“Will I ever see you again?”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders in a loose answer, smiling the slightest bit as the air started engulfing her lungs a little easier. “Maybe”

Harry shook his head in denial, curls sticking to his temples and damp cheeks while some strands followed suit with the direction of his head shaking, muttering soft ‘no’s’ in repeated action as if it would help him contain her from slipping past the opened door. But his hands were buttery and his fingertips were burned raw.

“It’s not that I don’t want to see you. I’m just not ready,” Y/N answered in a rehearsed manner, having spent the previous days deciphering what she truly wanted to say. If there was anything that she would take from Harry, it would be the value of honesty. “The moment I do, I’ll reach out to you. Give you an update,”

Harry stood unmoving, feet planted on the entryway. He could do nothing but listen to her silky voice comforting the turmoil boiling in his belly and the missiles launching in his head. “P-please,”

“Maybe we can get to know each other better,”

Was that where their love failed? Was it because they didn’t truly know each other so well that their unknown differences slowly crept up on their seemingly perfect relationship? 

As perfect as it gets, Y/N savoured the times when it was just them against the world; she never would have thought that her closest ally would betray her. She never would have thought that her own self would walk away when she promised him that she would stick it through.

‘Make it through the end’, whenever that is. 

_____

whew.

_____

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[loverbeforethewar]

"How unfortunate that we don't understand each other. I've alwaysadmired your way with words, and but than it's only just words, they can only let you say so much...and maybe now I kind of feel sad for you."That's what she said and probably more, I think, I should have been listening or I was and it is just that part that got stuck in my head. I still have the image of her slowly darting from one side of the room to the other, from the window to the couch, her expression changing from hysteria to being blank, as that of a mad woman. There are people who live their lifes on the extremes, on the extreme ends of some spectrum. With her it was with emotion, it was either she was too expressive or just cold, like a masonry wall facing away from the sun for the most part of the day. And now looking back I think I preferred the later, as the other extremes were always hysterical, the laughter, the anger, all made me cringe at times, I wonder how I had not smashed my head against a wall at times. Maybe I'm being too harsh myself because I think I must have cared for her to some extent, you can only be with someone for so long without caring, we grow some fondness for our possessions no matter how much we don't need them in reality, even though fondness and possession are not the right words in this case, I don't know, if only she saw me now trying to find the right words, what would she think now, not that it mattered. I didn't know or care much for what was going on in her head, and I really shouldn't now, even though it makes you wonder how we had gotten together in the first place and how it had lasted so long, 5 months is eternity in this case.

Whatever light not obstructed by the building directly across the only window in this room, took my attention away from her. I usualy get up in the early AMs and plug myself at the seat in front of the typewriter and punch away at the keys forming words, setences mostly none to my appeal, even though most people liked this stuff, and the fact that she is one of these people makes me think about the general crowd I wrote for. Today I had spent all that time thinking about the prior night, I barely even got out of bed. This is not good, I think, I've never needed any distractions, the writing is the distraction. Especially today, been looking forward to this day for sometime, I am meeting up with Dr. Franck Berg, the Nobel Laurette, to interview him. I had written to him a couple weeks back and I hadn't expected a response, since it was rumoured that he had gone mad arond the time he had received his Nobel Prize in Physics, it is said that because of the toll the research that went into his theories that had won him the price, he broke and now all he does is stay in his house, with blinds open, so some people would see him pacing up and down the house "like a mad man". I had read up on some of his theories on time, and knew then If I were to write something around time, he would be one of the people I would be interested in interviewing as part of the research that would go into the piece. And now I was writing a novel that had some time travel in it, but not your typical Sci-fi story. And I thought I was fortunate that he lived not more than 50 minutes away from where I am staying at the moment.

I get up and walk to the window to smoke a cigarette, along the way I notice how this barely had been my space for a while,not just that it still had her scent, but also how she had been able to insert herself here and make whatever changes she could from time to time, and I was too lost somewhere to have noticed this. Now I was getting a bit more interested in retracing these last 5 months. I don't open the window, I smoke with it closed, to wash away the scent I guess, or maybe partly because she hated that I smoked in doors and I had avoided doing so for a long time, even though she had a point, the smell of cigarettes is not pretty, especially in a relatively small space like this. So I eventually open it. It is little bit after 8 AM, so I have like 45 minutes to get ready before I head out for the doctors house, which is more than enough, maybe a litle bit too much. So after taking a quick shower, and assembling whatever edible thing in the fridge in a plate and calling it a breakfast, I have a couple more minutes to go over the questions I had prepared over the past couple of days.

Monday, September 23, 2019, 3:41:01 AM

Coming down off mushrooms, a first draft

[scorpiofangirl1109]

My Cats OC Part 44

part 43- https://scorpiofangirl1109.tumblr.com/post/646414694615220224/my-cats-oc-part-43

hello everyone! welcome to part 44 of the kiki series! i hope you guys like this update! it is another human au update and i am excited for you all to read it!

in this specific headcanon kiki is 5 years old! 

munkustrap often marvels about how fast kiki is growing up. she is growing up much too fast for his taste. if he could make his daughter stay little forever. because he loves the little things they do together. 

munkustrap enjoys getting to read bedtime stories to kiki, taking her out for special daddy-daughter outings, when she makes a picture for him or when she will come up to him at times asking for cuddles. and who is munkustrap to say no to his little princess.

so when kiki graduates from pre-k it makes munkustrap a bit sad because his baby is growing up. but he will also miss their drives to the daycare/preschool center she went to as it was right on his college campus. 

these drives were a great bonding time for the two of them which munkustrap loved. even if he had to listen to the same disney songs on repeat, anything for his princess. 

the summer before kindergarten, or as kiki was calling it, big girl school, munkustrap and demeter do all of the things they have to do to help kiki. 

they take her tp the store to go school supply shopping which kiki enjoys, they get all of the things on the list from her teacher such as markers, crayons, pencils, glue, glue sticks and more. 

because kiki’s backpack from pre-k was very worn down, especially with her going to camp an using it as her camp backpack. so a new one was necessary. it does not surprise munkustrap and demeter in the slightest bit when she chooses a disney princess backpack. and of course kiki has to whole matching lunchbox, water bottle and thermos set to go with it.  

demeter even takes kiki on a fun mama and kiki shopping day to get some new clothes for school. plus demeter takes kiki to get some good shoes for school as she has been outgrowing her old shoes rather quickly. kiki loves their shopping day and getting more clothes as kiki loves clothes a lot. they also get some lunch while they are out. 

as a special treat she even takes kiki on a fun day with her younger sisters bombalurina and rumpleteazer it get their nails done. 

when they get home kiki puts on a fashion show for munkustrap and is very proud of the bright sparkly pink nail polish she choose for her fingers and toes. munkustrap chuckles and sits through the fashion show happily.  

kiki’s grandmothers also take her out for a bit of shopping, along with kiki's auntie bomba and get her more school clothes. they cannot resist spoiling the little girl. especially before this big milestone,. 

a few days school starts demeter and munkustrap take kiki to the school she will be attending to meet her teacher for the year and the classroom she will be in.

 kiki is a bit nervous when she first meets her teacher, initially hiding behind munkustrap as the little girl is always a bit shy around new people at first. but eventually she starts to come out of her shell. but holds onto at least one of her parents hands the whole time. 

kiki gets to see where her seat is and the little locker she will get to  put her things in. plus she even meets her bus driver as kiki will be taking the school bus to and from school every day.

the night before, long after kiki has been put to bed munkustrap cannot help but feel a bit sad. of course he is happy for his daughter to be going to “big girl” school, he is sad to see how fast his baby is growing up.

demeter has to reassure him that kiki is a strong girl and she will be just fine. plus kiki really is looking forward to going to kindergarten. 

the next morning munkustrap and demeter get up extra early to get everything ready and make a special breakfast for kiki. and then they wake up kiki together. after kiki gets herself dressed in the special outfit she choose, the little girl enjoys one of her favorite breakfasts, which is waffles. 

demeter does kiki;s hair all nice for the first day of school, doing her hair into two litle braids, using poink ribbosn to match the dress kiki chose to wear the night before. 

during this time munkustrap packs kiki her lunch and fills her water bottle. kiki will be going to full day kindergarten meaning packed lunches every day for lunchtime. 

once kiki is done brushing her teeth, she tries to put their kitty cat in her backpack but munkustrap gently reminds kiki kitty needs to stay home but he will be there when she gets home. kiki gets upset at this  but does listen. 

before she needs to get on the bus munkustrap  takes a picture of kiki wearing her backpack on. he knows his mom did this with him and tugger and it is something he wants to continue with kiki. plus he knows their families will want to see the photo. 

soon the school bus arrives, and demeter and munkustrap put kiki on the bus after giving her a big hug and kiss. they watch her get on and the bus pulls away driving down the street, munkustrap watches the bus pull away feeling a bit emotional, his baby really was growing up. 

at the end of the day demeter is the one to greet kiki when she gets off the school bus as munkustrap was teaching an afternoon class. but the second he is home kiki runs to her dad with the biggest smile on her face as he scoops her up and gives her a big hug and kiss on the cheek. 

kiki gives the same very detailed account about her first day of school, how she liked ehr teacher, the other kids were nice. especially a girl named jemima who she played with at recess and ate lunch and snack with. 

kiki then she shows munkustrap the picture of their family she made during school. munkustrap smiles seeing the details kiki put in and even lets kiki put it up on the fridge. all of munkustrap’s worries melt away seeing how happy kiki was after her first day of kindergarten knowing she will have a great year of school. 

alright that is part 44! this is obviously based on the education system in the united states as that is where i am from and therefore the system in know the most about. let me know what you guys thought and i will see you all for part 45!

[merrique-bathory]

Litle fires everywhere

I finished watching this series yesterday and I have some thoughts I want to share but first I want to let people know this is full of spoilers so beware of that

Anyway, I read, or better, heard the book last year and then was super excited to read that they were making a show out of it. Recently I read that the author, Celeste Ng, wanted Mia to be a POC but felt she was not prepared to do someone else that wasn't Asian or sth like that so I think in the book it is not mentioned so much about Mia and Pearl's race but in the show they are black so there is not only class issues here but also race issues.

I love both book and series but there were something I believe that were added in the show that made it better and some things I wish they had not changed.

One of the things I wish they had not changed was Mia's sexuality. I think I understood she was asexual, you can be romantic and asexual, and it would have been nice to portray an asexual character in TV but I guess they decided against it for some reason. It is not bad to see a bisexual black woman, that is great, and it was also nice to see that she was so sure of herself despite her secrets and fears. But I was sort of not liking that much her relationship with the professor because there are power dynamics that complicate those relationships and I do not think that was healthy but yeah, it seemed they really loved each other so that is nice I guess, I don't know. I would really loved to see an asexual character but maybe some other day. I also had the feeling that Mia could have been nicer to Lexi, as she was in the book. It is fine that she was upset that Lexi used her daughter's name and all that, but Lexi was in a delicate and vulnerable situation, I wish she had been nice to her there and then later said those things but I guess because of lack of time there was no other way to show it, I don't know. I had the feeling Mia in the book was more calm, in this show she seemed more out with her emotions and I understand is another way to portray her but I miss the calmer Mia of the book. I still love both Mia and Pearl from books and the show too, I believe they are really interesting characters. I love how aware and confident Pearl is with her reality and sexuality, how she realizes that she is also secretive like her mom and how that is sth she needs to change, I loved it.

I love how the actresses who played young Mia and young Elena made such an effort to talk, move and just become really younger Reese and Kelly, it was amazing!

The change that I liked was how all truths come to be known in the show, how Lexi realizes what she did wrong and is owning up to her mistakes - unlike her mom until the point when she realizes her actions lead up to the fires. I liked that Mia told Elena that she was wrong, that it was not Pearl who had an abortion but on the other hand that should have been sth that Lexi should have said to her mom herself first. 

In the end she does, but Elena does not want to hear that her perfect daughter is not perfect, that all her efforts were in vain, that all her sacrifices did not produce a perfect mini-me in Lexi. 

I liked that Moody and Izzy actually care for each other in here and how he tries to stop her from running away.

I also liked how Pearl reacts much more to Lexi's and her mom's BS, I thought that in the book she was way too calm and let herself be abused too much. She has fair reasons to be upset with her mom and I liked that she reacted more here. I also liked how Mia and Pearl talk about Pearl’s first time and how nice Mia is with her daughter’s honesty

What I missed from the book was how Bebe explains that she was in a relationship and the guy disappeared and that added to the stress after the baby. It was a pity they did not mention that in the show, that she was particularly stressed not just because of being alone but because she had been abandoned by a guy who was supposed to be a serious relationship and then disappeared after the pregnancy.

I am happy they made this show because it is so good though. They acted amazingly well and I love it

[fertileimaginationvault]

Martha’s Day - Superbat DCEU series

Hello my fellow Superbat shippers! I hope you’re all doing alright.

 It's my first attempt at writing something about Superbat and I sincerely hope to be doing it right  and that you like it, of course.

I have plans to do a series of Superbat fanfictions, and this is the first post (I don’t know how many I’ll post, it will depend on the ideas that pop up in my head). I just want to warn you that the order of events is going to be a bit off (again, it's my head's fault that I have ideas out of the right order). I'll be happy to clear up any questions you may have about it. But first, let me establish a few things:

The "chapter” that I am posting today obviously happens on Mother's Day, almost two years after the events of the Justice League (2017).

Clark and Bruce have finally become friends, but they hide their true feelings for each other because they are afraid of ruining their friendship (it reads: because they are dumb).

I really like the idea of ​​the Wayne Mansion being rebuilt to become the Justice League headquarters, so I incorporated it into the story. Which means the league members will also appear.

What I wanted to see most about DCEU is the bat-kids, and they'll appear more on future posts because I love seeing Bruce being a dad, and I'd love to see them interacting with Clark.

I’ll give you more details about their relationship and what happened after the Justice League in the next post but I have not finished editing yet (the chapter is still too long and I'm still thinking whether to divide it into two parts or not).

I would like to apologize in advance for possible errors. English is not my first language.

I would also like to thank the kind people who encouraged me to post this. I've loved these characters since I was a child, and I was really excited about writing something about them, even though it’s fanfiction. And although today’s post is a litle sad, I hope you guys like it.

This “chapter” is dedicated to all who have lost their mothers and have a hard time during Mother’s Day and every day that their absence is felt the most (myself included). i’m sending my love to you all.

_________________________________________________________

It didn’t matter how many times Bruce had walked the path between the Manor and the Wayne family mausoleum, it always felt as if he was dragging chains along with him. It didn’t matter how many years had passed, it still felt the same, the pain piercing through his soul and the darkness clutching it. He stared at his parents’ crypts in silence holding the bouquet of white roses strong enough to feel the thorns entering his fingers and palm, through the wrapping paper around it, but he didn’t care. That was nothing compared to what Bruce went through for the last twenty years. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a few seconds and opening them again, still unease. He thinks if he should say something as he used to do when he was younger, when he still dared to ask if his parents would be proud of him, of what he was doing in their memory.

Bruce didn’t know anymore, neither if they would or if he has even the right to ask. Specially on this particular day... He wondered if he could cry even after all this time, but the tears were stuck somewhere inside of him just like the rest of his emotions and everything else that resembled the faintest evidence of weakness. He stayed there, silent, holding the bouquet of white roses, still thinking if he should put them in the vase hanging on the marble wall beside his mother’s crypt or not.

He couldn’t say how long he had stayed there, and again, he didn’t care. He doesn’t even flinch either when realizes he’s not alone. Someone was outside. Bruce could see them through the crack of one of the heavy iron doors of the mausoleum that was ajar, conflicting about getting in or just staying in the private graveyard outside.

“You can come in, Clark” he managed to say, his voice sounding hoarse but not as annoyed as he liked to be. That always happened when Clark was around, he could never truly push him away.

“I’m sorry, I-I didn’t want to disturb you” Clark walked in, voice low, taking each step carefully, almost ritualistic as if his existence in that place was disrespectful by itself. He stopped beside Bruce.

“I thought you were in Smallville for the day.” Bruce didn’t care to look at him, his dark eyes still lingering on his mother’s name printed in bronze on the marble surface of her crypt.

“I was,” Clark answered, looking at Bruce, examining his friend dressed in a three piece suit as if he was ready for a board meeting or a dinner at The Plaza. Clark knew the reason for Bruce being so well dressed and the knowledge of it made his heart clench, “I spent the day with Ma, actually. I just came back to the Manor.”

Bruce glanced around, realizing the deeming of the sunlight inside the mausoleum. The sun was setting behind the trees and the figure of Saint Michael in the stained glass could hardly be seen, finally giving him notion of time.

“Bruce,” Clark started, also struck by realization, “how long have you been here?”

“I don’t know... A few hours, maybe...” Bruce let it out in whisper, even though knowing Clark would hear, “I just woke up and came here to…”

Clark waited for Bruce to finish his sentence but he never did. He just stayed there beside the other man, making company to his silence. He knew how hard that was to Bruce, specially considering what day it was. Clark knew how that felt, how certain dates could be more difficult to “celebrate” than the others. Birthdays, holidays, always making it hurt a little more that the usual. Bruce didn’t need to finish explaining why he was there, Clark already knew. But he would still wait as much as necessary for Bruce to finally find his strength to say anything at all. He wouldn’t move an inch away from his friend.

“I’m not a child anymore,” Bruce finally managed to say, breaking their silence.

“I know.” Clark nodded, still waiting for his conclusion.

“It’s has been more than thirty years,” he continues.

“I know.” Clark is still nodding without saying more, giving Bruce all the space he needs to keep going.

“I’ve been keeping my promise, I’ve been taking care of Gotham... I’ve been trying to help as many people as I can… I- I’ve built a family of my own now... And yet I don’t understand…”

Clark stares at Bruce to find him staring back, his brown eyes glistening with the presence of tears that would be hidden in any minute, only Clark being able to see. Clark remains silent, giving Bruce all the time he needs, fighting the urge to hold the other man in his arms. He knew it wouldn’t be welcomed, so he stayed where he was, patiently waiting for Bruce to let the words out once and for all.

“I don’t understand… why does it still hurts?” Bruce closed his hands into fists, letting the thorns of the white roses sink into his fingers and palm again, hanging his head down. He starts to take deep breaths in an attempt to subside the feeling of anger and helplessness coming over him.

Clark wanted more than anything to hug Bruce at the moment, to take him away from that mausoleum, from all that pain and suffering he had to face throughout the years. However, Clark knew he wasn’t allowed to do so. Bruce wasn’t like Clark, who liked being touched when experiencing an emotional breakdown, the warmth of physical contact always bringing him peace. Bruce, on the other hand, always kept his distance even when he needed to be touched, to be held in someone’s arms. Clark wished he could change that about Bruce but he couldn’t. So he stays by Bruce’s side, listening to everything his friend has to say.

“People always say it gets better with time,” Bruce finally manages to speak, however, his voice was shaken, trying to get the words out before he would burst into tears, “That time heals everything. That it hurts less after a while…” he shakes his head, “It has been more than a while, Clark... Why does it still hurts like it was yesterday?”

“Because you love them,” Clark said without thinking twice, his voice heavy with understanding. He had himself a grave to visit, a wound that would never properly heal. That would always hurt the same even after all those years.

“Because they shouldn’t have gone so soon” Clark continued, worried if he was saying that more to himself than to Bruce, “Because you miss them and wish they were here to see you become the man you were supposed to be; because you wish they were here to see that you’re a father now. To see your children, the family you built on your own.” Clark now was staring at the ground, unable to look at Bruce, only letting the words find their way out of his mouth. He hoped he wasn’t trespassing by saying them. He swallowed before facing Bruce again, waiting for his reaction. “That’s not the kind of wound that fades away. It’s the kind we learn to live with.”

Bruce took his eyes from Clark to his parents’ crypts again, processing Clark’s words as if suddenly everything made sense. And he knew it did. If there was something Bruce knew very well was that losing a parent (or both of them) and losing a child were the worst things a person could go through. He would never stop hurting from it. He would never fill the hole left in his soul by their absence. That was a fact he would have to accept. A wound he should have known how to live with.

“I wish I could have done something…” Bruce whispered, once again feeling helpless and angry.

“I know.” Clark nodded, still waiting to hear more.

“I would have stopped it if I could.”

“I know.”

Bruce breathed deeply once again, trying to keep himself steady.

“There is so much I wish I could have told her… None of our conversations seemed to be enough…” He took another deep breath to finish his sentence, “when she was gone.”

“You can do it, now” Clark tilted his head to the marble wall with the crypts of the members of the Wayne family, “If you still want to.”

Bruce raised a brow to him, then letting out a sigh.

“She’s not here, Clark” he muttered, “There’s nothing left of her anymore…”

“Maybe not,” Clark agreed with him, “or maybe she is listening from somewhere else,” he tilted his head back as if looking through the ceiling to the night sky beginning to show, and maybe he was, “I always talk to Pa when I visit him.”

“And you believe he’s somewhere else listening to you?” Bruce did his best not to sound sardonic, but he couldn’t help it. Gone was the time when he still believed in such things.

“Bruce, I’m an alien who flies and shoots lasers from the eyes. I died and came back to life,” Clark replied narrowing his eyes in annoyance, “I don’t think I have the luxury of being skeptical about anything else.”

“Fair enough.” Bruce conceded.

“Look, I know Pa is not physically there when I talk to him, and that he can’t actually reply anything I say but…” Clark paused for a couple of seconds, then looking right at Bruce who was watching him curious, “You don’t do it to hear their answers right away, you do it because it brings you comfort. Because while you talk, you’ll be seeing things and even yourself through their eyes. The answers will come, eventually. It might take a while but they always do.”

Bruce was silent, once again processing Clark’s words. He looked down at his hand holding the bouquet of white roses, seeing the blood stains in the wrapping paper, hoping Clark didn’t.

“I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Do you mind if I talk to her?” Clark asked Bruce with a warm smile but still tentative, trying once again not to trespass any of his boundaries.

“Do you want to talk to my mother’s grave?” Of course he wants, Bruce thought, of course Clark would talk to his dead mother just to make him feel better because that’s what Clark Kent does.

“You think she won’t like me?” although Clark’s smile was present, Bruce noticed the concern in his voice and couldn’t help but feeling amused by it and by the way Clark said “she won’t like me” instead of “she wouldn’t”. That was Clark Kent ladies and gentlemen, easily going through the barriers Bruce constantly tried to build between them, being the kindest person possible to exist in this earth, even in a moment like that. Specially in a moment like that.

“No,” he managed to say, while trying to keep his heart and mind steady before Clark’s inquiring gaze, “I think it would be quite the opposite.”

Seeing Clark’s grin widen with that response surely made Bruce feel warmer inside, even though he wasn’t hoping to feel nothing of the sort that day in particular.

“So, it’s best to give her the gift you just brought, what do you think?” Clark gestured to the bouquet on Bruce’s hand.

Bruce blinked at him, raising his hand with the bouquet at the level of his chest.

“Bruce…” Clark examined the blood stains on the wrapping paper around the bouquet only with his vision. He didn’t dare to touch Bruce yet. He wouldn’t do anything without his permission. Even if all he wanted was to touch Bruce’s bruised hand in an attempt to make all of that pain go away.

“I came here to put some flowers in the vase for her...” Bruce said, finally finishing what he started to explain minutes ago but failed, “She always liked white roses.”

“Can I?” Clark reached his hands for the bouquet, again, waiting for Bruce’s permission.

“Y-yes.” Bruce handed the bouquet to Clark as if it was a burden he couldn’t stand carrying anymore. His brown eyes, pleading against Clark’s blue gemstones that stared at him so understanding when taking the flowers from his hands.

Clark carefully took off the bloodstained wrapping paper, holding the roses with his bare hands. Their thorns would hurt his skin anyway. He deposited the flowers in the vase hanging on the marble wall and began arranging them as in an ornamental vase. Clark has done that many times so his mother wouldn’t hurt herself when they have to replace the flowers on his father’s grave. He wondered how many times Bruce have done this alone for the past thirty years and wished he was there to keep him from hurting his hands too.

Bruce did nothing but stare at Clark carefully arranging the flowers in the vase beside his mother’s crypt, as if it was a ritual. He usually doesn’t let anyone join him when visiting his parents, specially in dates like this, except for Alfred who rarely comes along to keep him company. However, at that moment he was glad for having Clark there beside him.

“Done. They look beautiful this way.” Clark said, looking satisfied with his work, then placing himself beside Bruce again and turning to the face Martha Wayne’s crypt ornate with the white roses. He gives a step forward and clears his throat, “Hm… Hello Mr and Mrs Wayne, I’m Clark Kent, I’m a friend of your son’s” he started, fidgeting a little before continuing, Bruce couldn’t believe he was nervous for talking to his dead parents who couldn’t even listen to him.

“I know, he never brought none of his friends here and it probably made you think that he doesn’t have any friends but... he has me” Clark turned his eyes to Bruce, smiling, then turning to the marble crypt again, “Well, not just me, he has more friends. He has the kids and Alfred… Oh, and Ma… my mother, I mean” he was rubbing the back of his neck, like really having a conversation with the Waynes. Bruce couldn’t help but letting his lips curve in a little smirk with the sight, “It’s interesting that you two share the same name... I truly believe you’d get along very welI, considering what your sons’ job is. Even though I don’t think sharing our baby pictures would do good for our reputations...” Clark chuckled at the thought.

“Anyway, Mrs Wayne, I just wanted to wish you a happy mother’s day. I assure you that Bruce is being taken care of, specially by Alfred and Ma. I swear, someday I’ll get home and find that she replaced me with him as her son, really.” he grinned at Bruce who was still staring at him filled with amusement, “She loves him very much. We all do.” Clark found himself smiling saying those words, without worrying about what Bruce would think of them. Bruce need to hear, even if they were disguised. Even if that was everything Clark could do at the moment to let his feelings show.

“And I also wanted to thank you.” He cleared his throat, turning his attention to the marble crypt, “I’m sure Bruce wouldn’t be the person he is today if it weren’t for having an amazing mother by example. He’s a good man, a good father and a good friend. He is the kind of person who always thinks of others before himself and is always trying to make other people’s lives better. I believe he got this qualities from you and from Mr Wayne as well. And, of course, from Alfred. I hope to talk to you again soon, I promise to come visit often… if Bruce allows me. I hope you’re having a great mother’s day wherever you may be listening to us.”

Clark took the step back to Bruce’s side, still not sure if his efforts have borne some fruit until turning his gaze to the other man. Clark startled at the tears streaming from Bruce’s eyes and set himself even closer to him, still not sure if he would be allowed to touch Bruce but letting their shoulders touch, giving something for Bruce to lean on if he needed.

They stayed like that for a few seconds without saying a word. Bruce taking deep breaths while the tears kept streaming down his face. A silent sob, repressed even, but still better than not feeling anything at all. Clark murmured, asking if he was okay, and Bruce nodded in response, wiping his face before looking at him.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve done this. Talk to them.” Bruce’s voice sound weak through the tears.

“I’ll leave you alone so you can talk to them” Clark said, softly as if he was talking to a child, before turning his way to the mausoleum door.

“Thank you.” Bruce said, holding Clark’s hand so he would turn back.

Clark stopped on his feet and turned to look at Bruce, surprised by his gesture but glad at the same time.

“I’ll be waiting outside if you need me,” he smiled again, squeezing Bruce’s hand before letting go, feeling his own strangely cold afterwards, “Bye Mrs Wayne. Bye, Mr Wayne.”

______________________________

Clark stayed in the private graveyard inside the Wayne Estate, waiting. He didn’t dare to eavesdrop Bruce’s conversation with his parents, so he took a walk between the gravestones outside, near the great Wayne mausoleum. Clark knew how hard this day must be to Bruce. Father’s day was never a pleasant day to him as well, and if he had lost Ma too, Clark definitely would be as hurt as Bruce was at the moment. Clark was grateful for having his mother around. He knew Bruce had Alfred too and knowing that was enough to hope at least the old butler could cross Bruce’s boundaries without being pushed away like the others.

Bruce had so many walls around his heart, sometimes Clark wondered how could he even breath. Clark was hopeful to someday break one by one until there was only him and Bruce, with nothing in between. He just couldn’t see that happening any soon. However, at least that moment represented a improvement in their relationship. Clark knew that being allowed by Bruce’s side in such vulnerable moment was a big deal. He knew what meant to be allowed inside Bruce’s family mausoleum, what meant for Bruce to share his grief with Clark like that. He was glad to be there, to be by his side, and would stay there until Bruce decided he didn’t need him anymore. Since it was everything he was allowed to do.

______________________________

Minutes later, he saw Bruce coming out from the mausoleum, closing the heavy iron doors behind him. Clark paced towards him, so they could walk back to the Manor.

They walked in silence for a while taking in the sight of the lights of the Wayne Manor. The Boys and Steph were there waiting for them. Barry was there too. Clark could see them gathered in the media room, arguing about what movie they should watch on Netflix this time. Alfred was in the kitchen preparing them snacks.

“Feeling better?” Clark turned his eyes to examine Bruce.

“Yes.” Bruce’s voice was hoarse due to how much he cried, but he still wasn’t willing to show it. His head hanged low, facing the ground as they walked away from the private graveyard.

“It always works.” Clark said in return, bumping his shoulders on Bruce's..

They kept walking in silence across the garden. They were halfway through the trail of gravel past the main fountain in the middle of the garden when Bruce stopped walking.

“About what you said…” Bruce managed to speak, finally lifting his head to face Clark.

“You mean, about visiting your parents?” Clark turned to face Bruce, concerned about having trespassed.

“You don’t have to-” Bruce tried to say, to thank Clark for his kindness when Clark interrupted him.

“I know. But like I said, I already promised to Mrs Wayne I would, so…” Clark shrugged, trying to assure Bruce that’s okay, that he didn’t need to do that alone. Not anymore.

“Clark…” Bruce tried again but Clark stepped even closer, taking Bruce’s hand with his own.

“Bruce, if you want company whenever you visit your parents, I'll be more than happy to be by your side,” he squeezed Bruce’s hand as the words left his mouth, as if trying to tell him something more. Really telling something more and praying Bruce would understand, “But I’ll do it only if you allow me.”

“Thank you, again.” Bruce ran his hand to hold closer into Clark’s in response. Maybe he did understand.

“Don’t mention it.” Clark’s grin made Bruce feel warmer inside for the second time that day.

They stayed in each other’s eyes, talking without saying a word. Clark didn’t care if he was letting his true feelings show at the moment, Bruce had to know he wasn’t alone. He would always be there, ready to hold Bruce’s hand when he needed.

Bruce tried to keep his heart steady, hoping Clark wouldn’t listen how it quickened when their hands touched but at the same time hoping he had. Clark was staring at him with such loving eyes, being so careful since they were in the mausoleum… He only wanted to be worthy of all of this.

“The kids must be home.” Bruce finally broke their gaze, turning to the windows of the Manor.

“They are.” Clark did the same, clearing his throat, “Barry is there too.”

“Of course…” Bruce mused about what that meant. Of course Barry was at the Manor too. He wasn’t the only one there who lost his mother. Barry and his children also knew the weight of a day like this.

“They told me where you were” Clark explained, “Dick said, I’m quoting this by the way, ‘Today is the day when all the orphans who live in this house should be gathered in a giant sofa, eating junk and watching movies’ and I think he’s right, though.”

“Are you staying tonight?” Bruce asked, wondering if he sounded too eager for Clark’s response.

“Sure.” Clark shrugged, trying to sound casual, but happy being allowed to stay “I mean, if you want to...”

“I do.” Bruce let his mouth form a little smile, only for Clark to see.

“Good.” Clark beamed at him, “They wouldn’t let me skip a movie night anyway.”

Bruce chuckled briefly, letting himself be embraced by the sound of Clark's laugh, feeling his heart lighter. It was always like this when Clark was around.

They started to walk again. They were still holding hands.

“Bruce?” Clark called as they got near the entrance.

“Yes?”

“Ma asked me to tell you next year she wants you, the kids and Alfred in the farm for a Mother’s Day lunch. And that’s not up for debate.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Bruce nodded.

“No, Bruce. That’s. Not. Up. For. Debate.” Clark said, looking genuinely worried, “You don’t know how much I had to hear from her because I showed up today without you. You’re going next year and this year’s Thanksgiving too. I don’t want to have to show up there without you again and she suddenly decides I don’t get to eat the turkey.”

“Alright,” Bruce conceded, amused by the nearly terror in Clark’s eyes, “We’ll be there.”

“I swear to God, sometimes I think Ma loves you more than she loves me.” He pouted, faking annoyance .

“I strongly believe the fact that I’m her favorite person might get you jealous.” Bruce said a little smug for seeing Clark pouting.

They passed through the door. Their hands still entwined. None of them in a hurry to let go.

“Nah.” Clark chuckled, rubbing the back of his head, and turning to give Bruce one of his heart stopping smiles, “Actually, I’m glad she likes you.”

For the first time that day, Bruce allowed himself to truly smile when said, “Me too.”

[tarisilmarwen]

Splinters: Insulated

(I hate shots and having bloodwork done so I gotta inflict those feelings on Ezra too because shut up it totally works for the story anyway.

TW: Needles.)

---

Ezra fidgeted on the examination table, hearing the med droids shuffle around behind him, as Leslynn poked and prodded at his shoulders and arms, glancing down every so often at her scanner.

Apparently he'd strained himself a little too much cleaning off the Ghost. There was a soreness in his shoulders that refused to go away. Leslynn was checking him for pulled muscles now.

She examined him silently, eyes focused on her work, and Ezra's fidgeting grew more and more agitated the longer she refused to follow the script that had been playing persistently in his head, didn't speak the words that he'd been waiting for and dreading ever since Hera had noticed him wincing in pain and ordered him to go see the medic.

Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Aren't you going to say it?" he asked, blurting out the words.

Absently, she replied, "Say what, Ezra?"

"'I told you so.'"

She pinched along his left bicep. "What would be the point in that?" she said. "I'm sure you're already beating yourself up for it plenty."

Ezra sighed, even as a quiet relief trickled down through his throat. "Well... you're not wrong about that," he told her.

Leslynn stepped back, rubbing a hand across her face. "Right, well, good news is that it doesn't look like you've pulled anything, but you have overstrained both deltoids and trapeziuses. You'll be fine in a day or two but you're going to need—"

"Let me guess..." Ezra interrupted, a groan in his voice. "Rest."

The doctor smiled faintly. "Just avoiding strenuous labor should do." She handed her scanner off to one of the med droids. "Can't do anything about your massive guilt-complex though, I'm afraid," she added as a joke.

That made Ezra chuckle. "Let me worry about that, Doc. I don't think that's exactly your area of expertise," he teased back.

"That's the Ezra Bridger I know," smiled Leslynn, demeanor brightening.

Ezra swung his feet, hopping down off the table. "Am I done?" he asked.

"Not quite." Leslynn hesitated, looking suddenly uncomfortable. She coughed into her fist. "There's been an infection going around in the ranks. I'm sure you've heard."

Ezra nodded. "Yeah. Wedge caught it yesterday, was a snot-covered bundle of blankets last I saw him." He squinted, staring off, trying to recall what Wedge had called it. "Balma-something flu?"

"Balmorra flu," Leslynn corrected. "I don't suppose you've ever been inoculated against it? Or had it previously?" she asked, tone slightly hopeful.

He shook his head. "Not likely."

Leslynn's expression dimmed. "Rebel Command wants me to immunize anyone who hasn't caught it yet," she explained. "To keep the spread down."

That hung in the air a moment.

"...Oh," Ezra said, realizing the implications. He tried to ignore the winch tightening in his throat, the nervous way his pulse pricked up. "Are—are you sure you have to—? I can't—" He reorganized his thoughts. "Can I just catch it and suffer through it and get it over with that way?" he asked.

She narrowed her eyes skeptically. "Do you really want to?"

Ezra thought back to Wedge's greenish, sweat-covered face and slumped his shoulders.

"No," he admitted, dropping his eyes to the floor.

A silence stretched out. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, uncomfortably loud.

He felt Leslynn stepping closer.

"Would you... like someone else to be here in the room with you?" she offered.

He inhaled slowly, his breath shaking, vibrating like his hands were now. "No," he started to say. "I—I think I'm—I can handle—"

He stopped, squeezing his eyes closed.

Don't be stubborn, you idiot, he chided himself.

He opened his eyes again, looking up at Dr. Leslynn. "Can... can you call Kanan?" he said timidly.

She nodded, stepping back and looking for her comlink.

Ezra moved back towards the examination table, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself while he waited.

***

Kanan walked through the door only a few minutes later, soft smile on his face.

"Hey kid," he called, coming forward. "I'm glad you called for me."

Ezra was staring down at the table, his teeth pressing together. "This is stupid," he muttered. "It's just a shot. Just a litle nee—needle," he said, his voice stumbling and hitching over the word. "I should be able to handle this." His hands crept up towards his head, fingers scratching through his hair.

"Easy," Kanan told him, reaching out and grabbing one of his hands, pulling it firmly away from digging into his scalp. "Let's just focus on what we need to do for now. Don't think about what you should be able to handle. Trust me," he said, squeezing Ezra's hand. "It doesn't help."

Kanan was right. Of course he was. But that nagging little negative voice in his head—sounded like Pryce most days—kept whispering to him.

He clenched his jaw tighter, forcing himself to tune it out.

Leslynn had her tray next to her, just out of Ezra's line of sight, and stepped in front of it as she turned to face the two Jedi.

Kanan alerted to her movement. "You're ready?" he guessed.

Leslynn nodded, then, remembering with a wince that Kanan couldn't see it, added verbally, "I am. Go ahead and do your..." She trailed off, making wide gestures with her hands. "...Force... thing..."

Kanan's other hand came around Ezra's, clasping the boy's palm tightly with both of his. "All right," he said. "Just like we did on the Ghost. Focus."

Ezra let his eyes fall closed, prying his jaws apart and taking in a slow breath.

He reached out, the Force coming into focus like a warm pocket of air around him.

Emotion, yet peace, he recited inside his head.

He felt Leslynn pushing up his sleeve, and his skin prickled with goosebumps.

Passion, yet serenity.

He wondered idly why the mantra Kanan had taught him was slightly different than the one he'd heard studying the Jedi holocron.

Maybe Kanan had learned a different version.

He risked peeking an eye open and regretted it when he saw the syringe. It was much thinner than the ones they'd used on him on the Chimaera, but that didn't stop the flickers of panic that started to creep through the warm edges of the Force.

Leslynn stepped over to the table, her face grimacing apologetically.

"It'll be quick," she promised.

Ezra nodded, closing his eyes again and bracing himself, his throat dry.

Echoes sounded dully outside the circle of calm surrounding him and Kanan. Ezra concentrated on his own breathing, keeping to a quiet corner of his mind. Nervous trickles pulsed through his veins.

There was a small pinprick.

Ezra gasped sharply, his hand mashing Kanan's. His face screwed tightly. Fragments of Pryce's voice pounded in his head.

"Ezra?" Kanan called, tone laced with worry.

Ezra let out the breath he was holding, letting his memories and emotions disappear into the Force. "I'm okay!" he wheezed. "I'm... I'm okay."

Leslynn was dabbing at his arm with an antiseptic swab. Ezra blinked. Was it already over?

His breathing steadied, the pings of anxiety in his head fading away.

"All done!" Leslynn chirped brightly. She sealed a bacta patch onto the injection site and stepped back with a smile. "You handled that very well, Ezra."

Ezra felt the corners of his mouth twitching up, mingled relief and pride vibrating through him.

"Not bad, kid," Kanan complimented warmly, patting his hand. He stood, pulling Ezra to his feet. "Come on," he said. "Let's go see if Hera's back from her mission."

He followed after Kanan, pulling down his sleeve, frowning slightly as he noticed the scars still left from all the other injections.

He put it out of mind.

---

The ever-customary Chapter Notes!

1. Still no therapists, but at least Kanan's around! And has calming Force techniques.

2. Leslynn is not quite over being dragged into Kanan and Ezra's Battle Meditation back in "Cracks In The Mirror" and would prefer they do their weird Jedi magic without her this time thank you very much.

3. A slightly altered version of the Jedi Code appears in the Kanan: The Last Padawan comic, as taught to him by Depa Bilaba.  And I always found it fascinating in the way it was altered and how fitting it was for Depa--AKA Miss Trained By "I'll Just Invent A New Lightsaber Form That Lets Me Safely Channel Dark Side Energy Without Falling" Mace Windu--to have learned it that way.  So the unconventional Jedi teachings continue to get passed down.

4. And now we see Ezra starting to make a bit of progress in his recovery, namely, not avoiding offered help and finding healthier coping mechanisms than being a workaholic. (For now at least.)

Next chapter's probably also gonna be a bit on the short side before I hit you with a couple longer ones. Thanks for sticking with me, readers!

[jaerie]

No one tagged me, I just really wanted to do this for myself to compare to last year.

All answers should be about works published in 2018

1. List of works published this year: 

I posted 407,457 words this year which is a ilttle crazy to think about.  listed in order of posting:

out with the old, in with the new

cold as ice

woke up feeling knotty

as we were, as we are

saving’s what i need

omegavision

save some luck for me

where do we go now

just jump

bored

everything comes back to you

stay close, hold steady

cuddle up a litle closer

take what’s mine

was it all fake?

I’m sure it happens to all alphas

the wilds

swim for your life series

alpha seeking alpha

to change how you see and what you believe

knot safe for work

captain jack

merry birthday

only the mountains keep secrets (hanfic)

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

even though it didn’t get much attention, As We Were, As We Are for the Alex fic exchange is what I’m most proud of.  While I wrote it for nano 2017, it was finish and posted in 2018.  I have never put so much into a fic before and was so happy with the result.   Even the timeline alone took SO MUCH not even talking about all the research and everything else I put into it.   

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

My hybrid fic.  I even deleted several parts of it.  I loved the idea but it wasn’t received well and, after witnessing or hearing of several conversations, I will never write a hybrid fic again.  I want to delete it but I don’t want to mess up my stats. 

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

“The gaudy, heavily painted drag queens stumbled out from the stage doors and mixed with the wigs on the heads of the street workers dotting the boulevard in a carnival of sequins and second hand heels. “

I don’t know why but it was one of the first lines I wrote when I started Captain Jack and it kind of stuck with me as a key line in setting the scene I imgined in my head.   

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received:

"Do you fuck your dog?” sodifj;osadijfoisgoadisjfskdjjd  I laughed so long about this comment even though I think it was meant as a snide comment.  For the record, no I do not.  I don’t have any pets and actually am on the animal hater side of the spectrum.  Ew animal hair and poop and smells and gross I gag even with the thought. 

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

CAPTAIN JACK!  It was soooo difficult to write.  I had such specific imagry in my head for it but it just would not come out into words.  That and I just had so much going on this year.  Writing Stay Close, Hold Steady was also difficult since I spent 2 weeks in England leading up to the deadline while I was supposed to be writing it 

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

I wrote a whole mpreg fic.  That surprised me haha it wasn’t even bad! 

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I grew by just going for it.  I also tried to make myself really think entire plots all the way through instead of just jumping in without a plan. 

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

I hope to expland on the plot theme by writing a fic that is going to jump around a lot bewteen two different storylines.  It’s going to be a lot of work for it all to line up but I think I’m ready for the challenge.  

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

honestly @lululawrence listened to me whine and moan at my worst and cheered me on at my best.  Also to anyone in group chats who offered opinions or suggestions or prompts or writing sprints etc

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

Yes, always.  Even with my darkest fic there is usually some element or emotion or setting that has come out of real life.  Sometimes even if the intense emotion wasn’t from the same situation, writing it can often feel the same when describing it.  

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Just go for it?  I’m not the most disciplined or formal writer, i don’t use betas regularly, etc so I’m not sure I’m qualified to hand out much advice other than that.  

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

the wilds sequel

shifter harry sequel

an abo body dysmorphia fic where harry hates that he presented alpha

dubai shark fic if i can finally get it to work

almost famous au

“happy together” spoof fic (not like the actual show haha but ive had this idea where louis is a better version of ben winston and accidentally ends up involved with harry)

CHASM coven fic

[art-now-poland]

Childhood gardens V, Magdalena Nałęcz

Let me tell you about my latest exhibition "The Choidchood gardens". The people who saw my exhibition stressed these paintings were not only a very well-composed canvas, full of subtle colours, profesionally painted and of good workshop, but also this was the story full of contexts. Fot me, this cycle of paintings means the challenge whoch I plased for myself. Creating these canvas was the return to the childchood time and the years of growing-up. They are a memory of colours, scens, emotions, places, events and people, who in particullar fell in the memory of a litle girl and which have returned in the works of an adult woman. They are the tale collected on the black and white photos from an old family album. They bring back to memory the time when I was a litle girl and in the first week of the september every year my grandmather used to take me to the best photo atelier in the city. These photos captured my growing-up. Today, looking at them brings back to life the colours of a turqoise dress, of yellow brows and of red wernished shoes. These colours come to existence in the colourfulness of the painting cycle. One of the contexts of the exhibition is that it is universal becouse each of us can find oneself in it. Each of us must have one's old album and memories captured in it. Each of us experienced moments in life which were particullary important. We all met friendly and hostile people who saped us and our life story. For that reason this cycle of paintings - "The childchood gardens" can be very special for you, becouse it forces us to bring back to life the most secret memories ant emotions. These canvas are associated indifferent ways. I, myself, am constantly discovering new perceptions at the paintings. The most similar understanding of the theme is the one presented by Carlos Saura in the move "Feed the ravens". “I have thought for a long time that I have wings” “Childhood Gardens,” a series of paintings by Magdalena Nałęcz, is an exceptional collection. In the middle of her life, the artist is painting pictures in which she returns to the days of her childhood. Is it an attempt at recapitulation of her life or rather an unusual and nostalgic journey back into the past, a retrospection and reminiscence of the most important places and emotions connected with them? Or perhaps breaking a spell of sadness brought by memories which are not very cheerful? Magda’s journey into the land of childhood does not lead inside the happy walls of her family home. Quite the opposite – the house is omitted. Memories concern, above all, the gardens enchanted with reminiscence, some elusive moment remembered by the colour of a dress, the shape of a ribbon knot, the tying of booties. The garden space is safe: it is a shelter which allows dreaming. It is a hiding place in which a person grows up, becomes mature and comes out into the world. It is a place filled with profound experiences, failures and sorrows, but they are immersed in colour which will give comfort to the artist for her entire life. However, do not let us be deceived by apparent calmness of a well-kept garden. No idyllic image of childhood is there to be found. No birdsong can be heard – birds are unattainable and their voices are confined in a cage guarded by a beautiful but sad little girl. She looks like a doll or like a prop carefully chosen for the remembered picture, for the memory of a school badge on her arm and clean white knee-socks. She is waiting, motionless. She is dreaming. She feels the wings of blue butterflies, which she is going to spread much later, while painting another gardens. Intense colours throw very distinct light on little girl’s sadness. She is alone. She seeks for the strength and warmth of the wolf, a guardian of her safe garden. Only the memory of an excursion to the lake recalls a blithe moment of playing with her mother… Only then the heroine becomes again a laughing child. The enchanted garden of Magda’s childhood is far from Frances Burnett’s secret garden where children perform their own rituals to help their friend recover. Yet both gardens seem to have one thing in common: the magic power to heal the soul. The power of wings that may carry us high if we make a little effort. Magda opened a garden which had been closed for years. I hope she will find roses there, and remember that she has wings to fly. And we, while wandering around her childhood gardens, become engrossed in reading our own memories, warding off sorrows and searching for our lost wings. For, as Wisława Szymborska has said: “Everyone of us has their own childhood. We can safely say that it never ends, and it even comes back to us when we think it is irretrievably lost. This depends partly on ourselves how we are going to remember it.” So let us wander around Magda’s gardens, feeling the wings of her butterflies on our backs; feeling the warmth and strength of good wolves who will always protect us. Magdalena Kąkolewska

https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-Childhood-gardens-V/837541/3317844/view

[madmachaca]

So when I went to see the incredibles 2, I of course watched Pixar´s most recent short film Bao. And I thought it was beautiful! From the pacing, the animation, the message, and the conclusion, it is truly a beautiful mini film.

But I am to here to talk about the short (let alone make a critique, or an analysis), I am here to address some reactions I have seen online:

From “WTF” to “WHY DOESN´T THIS HAVE A WARNING??” the reactions have been a little more dramatic that what I would have expected. Don´t get me wrong, I was surprised too, but nowhere near some of the exaerated internet reactions that I would consider as nothing more: exagerations....because this is the internet... and that is the rule around here.

However, one common reaction that I find kinda funny is the whole “WTF, PIXAR? THINK OF THE CHILDREN! THEY WOULD BE TRAUMATICED!!”

But, no, they won´t.

I think many of you are understimating children. 

It is true that some of them are more sensitive than others. it is true they all react differently to different things, but assuming they ALL would be forever scarred by this scene... I don´t know... maybe they can be a little confused? perhaps?

Maybe I am talking on behalf of my own expirence: my 4 yearl old niece was indeed confused. And she kept her doubts till the end of the movie

“why did the lady ate the little onion?” she asked us when we were leaving (in her eyes, the dumpling looked like an onion). but she didn´t give us the chance to actually answer her, she herself thought of an acceptable answer

“I think I know! She didn´t want it to leave, she save it on her tummy”

And, yeah...pretty much. Yes, of course! she doesn´t get the whole symbolism, nor she understnads the emotion behind it. She just thought “litle onion wants to leave, lady doesn´t like that, lady eats little onion” simple and easy.

We let her have her own interpretation of the short because she was satisfied with it. Worrying to much about it and trying to explain it further to her, would only confused her. If she had asked, we would have try to explian. If she had been upset, we will comfort her, because it is our duty as the adults on her life to guide her (and her sisters) whenever she needs it.

BUT REMEMBER! some children are more sensitive, so comfort them if needed, don´t blame Pixar or expect them to censor a thing that doesn´t really need censoring.

[featherwriterweather]

A concert to remember

I know its long and the date was a month ago, but I was too inspired. Read to the end.

I woke up not as early as usual. Today was 8th March, the International women’s day. Renato was really kind and let me take the day off to celebrate me being a woman. It felt so good to sleep until the sun has actually risen. I woke up with my hair up on a bun, blankets neatly over me and one beautiful white rose on the side of the bed where Christopher was usually sleeping. He was so sweet to me, making me feel like a real queen. It was the best thing to wake up and see one beautifully scented rose next to me.

Christopher had already gotten ready and gone down to the hotel lobby to join the other four for breakfast before they head out to do some radio interviews and the sound check for the concert they had the same night. Six years had gone by since I met Christopher and the fire between us exploaded. The way we met was a litle funny, yet incredible. I had just arrived to the US and finished my makeup artist course. I applied everywhere I could. Probably it was fate, but a month after I applied for a boy band travelling makeup artist, I got called up. The day I went to my interview I was nervously shaking for some reason. The interview was in Sony Music Latin in Miami. I entered the hallway still being nervous. I saw five boys playing European football with a ball made out of paper wrapped in duckt tape. Three of them were with their back to me. One of them started walking backwards, he didn’t know I was behind him and that’s why he was just as surprised when he bumped into me. He turned around to catch me from falling, but slipped instead and we both fell on the floor. He quickly stood up and helped me, saying he was sorry in the mean while. The other four were laughing so hard that Renato, who interviewed me at the time, came out of his office to see what was happening. The boy, who was Christopher, was turning red of embarrassment. Something between us clicked at that moment. He looked into my eyes and smiled kindly. He let go of me only when Renato cleared his throat loud enough for all the building to hear him. That day was, in a matter of fact, 8th March. And here we were, six years later. I was their makeup artist and travelled the world with them and I was calling myself Chris’ girlfriend. My life had changed so much since, but for the better. And today not only I had a celebration, we also had an anniversary.

I got out of bed, took a shower and got ready. Then I went down for breakfast. The boys were still eating and about to leave in a few minutes. I approached them and smiled. They had ordered me coffee and my favourite veggie breakfast. They knew I would come down on ime to eat together. They all smiled back at me as I sat down.

“Feliz día de la mujer!” They said in one voice as each pulled out one white rose from under the table. My eyes watered up. I was shown one more time how lucky I was to have them in my life as my friends, as my co-workers and as my brothers. Looking back, who would have guessed I would be known as travelling makeup artist, let alone having breakfast with the hottest boy band in Latin America and holding the roses they have given me. I quickly brushed my tears and put the rosses carefully on the chair next to me. They had to go do their interviews and sound check, they stood up and excused themselves. Before they left me alone I got a kiss from all of them. Richard kissed my forehead, Erick kissed my cheek, Joel placed a kiss on the top of my head, Zabdi kissed my hand and Chris gave me a quick peck on my lips.

I wasn’t mad that I had to finish my breakfast alone. They had to do their resposibilities and yet they had the time to buy me flowers, order my favorite food and, of course, tag me and their moms on their IG stories. How could I be mad at them for such thing? After I finished eating, I made sure to call all of the moms and sisters in our extended musical family, as well as my mom. Working with so many latinas, I learned spanish really fast. Of course, I went to my IG and recorded a quick video for my fans and friends.

The rest of the day went by fast. I had forgotten what it is like to be free all day. Their interviews were over, as well as the sound check, the fans were already piling up in the stadium. I spent my time at the hotel trying outfits and makeup looks while my team got the boys ready behind the scenes. An hour before the concert started, Renato came and took me with his car. I was starting to feel something was happening behind my back. Little did I know how right I was. 

We arrived at the stadium just in time. I went behind the scenes, we did our traditional good luck hand over hand salute, they all gave me the usual cheek kiss good luck and I sent them on stage. Renato insisted I should go up front and watch the concert. That was strange, though. He never insisted on me doing things like that, because he knew I would do it anyways. Even though, I did as I was told. The concert was more than amazing. As usual, fans were pulled on stage, roses were given as a present for being such dedicated fans. One of the girls pulled up on stage even got a proposal. I was thinking to myself that this day couldn’t get any better, I was wrong, of course. You know how it happens exactly the opposite when you think it can not get any better or any worse. There are the Murphy laws.

I continued watching the concert and admiring the sweet proposal this girl had. Almost at the end of the concert the music didn’t transition from song to song, but stopped. Christopher looked at me, smiled and brought his mic to his mouth and started talking. “Before we sing the last song for tonight, which is also very symbolic to us, to me, I want to thank you all. Miami has always been a place of memories and emotions to me. Seven years ago I came to this country to work, a year later I came here, in Miami, and auditioned for La Banda. That’s when I met the most amazing woman in my life, my lovely girlfriend. She was new to the country, too. I would like to bring her here, on stage, but you have to help me. Call her up with me, c’mon!”

Everybody started scanding my name. A heatwave spread along my body. I had a tangling sensation in my stomach. I had the feeling this would not be only a thankful speech. Anyways, I tried to caml myself down as I walked up on stage. When I got there, the audience started clapping and cheering. Chris stretched his hand out for mine. I went up to him and took his hand as he continued talking. “This woman, that I have the priviledge to hold hands with, is the best thing Miami could have given me. I remember the first time I looked in her eyes. I knew nothing would ever be the same again. Today not only we celebrate her being a woman, we celebrate our sixth anniversary.” At this point I was already crying and shaking. He turned to me, looked me in the eyes and went on." The way we met was so funny. I bumped into her, practically I fell on top of her. That was the best thing I could do. It changed my life forever. I am who I am because of you. You made me believe in everything I do, in everything I dream of. I can’t believe I had gotten so lucky to have you by my side. For six years we built a life I was used seeing only in movies. We have a beautiful home, that we rarely have the chance to enjoy. I hear ‘I love you’ everyday and that makes me the happiest man. You share my smiles, my tears, my dreams, my ups and downs. My life is perfect the way it is. There is only one thing missing, mi amor. That is a ring on you finger” as he said that he pulled out a velvet ring box from his pocket and got down on one knee. I started crying even more. My hand went up to my mouth. I couldn’t believe what was happening to me. My feeling was right, there really was something happening behind my back, but all was worth it. The boys started jumping behind me, everyone started cheering. I looked at Chris, he was crying, too. I have imagined this moment so many times, but I never could have thought it would be that perfect. Chris started talking again, his voice cracking “Bebé, mi amor, mi vida, te casarías conmigo?”

My makeup was already ruined from all the tears. I couldn’t think, nor speak. I nodded and managed somehow to shout “Sí” before I threw myself around his neck. Everybody started cheering again. I was still shaking as he slipped the ring on my finger. He stood up and hugged me, sweeping me off of my feet. Zadbi screamed on his mic “She said yes”. The crowd was screaming, the band started to play ‘Primera cita’. As Chris put me down I saw Richard coming towards us shaking one big bottle of champaign. He opened it and started splashing it on us. At the same time Joel came towards me with one big bouquet of red roses. I wasn’t really realizing what had just happened to me. When I first came to America, when I went to Sony Music for my interview I never knew my life would change so much. But I wouldn’t trade for the world. That was the best night in my entire life. 

As we were walking down from the stage I looked up to the sky and saw a shooting star. “Make a wish” Chris said. “I have everything I could ever wish for.” I said. But I did make a wish upon the shooting star. I wished that every woman out there, no matter from where she is, would meet a man like Christopher one day. And that this man would take care of her and treat her like a queen, because all women deserve nothing less.

[angelik89]

My Bill Skarsgård Ranking

Hello, as I posted yesterday, I suggested an idea to share our thoughts about Bill, which was making a ranking of his movies.

Here’s my personal ranking, according to what I have watched of him. If something is not on this list, it’s because I haven’t watched it.

Exception: I don’t include short film “A stone appears” because I think it wouldn’t be fair to compare a short film with big movies (although it’s good). I also don’t include Anna Karenina because Bill’s character is not relevant and because I ended up hating that movie, since I LOVE Pride and Prejudice (2005) I felt really disappointed with Anna Karenina (Joe Wright, what happened??) 

Bill’s acting Ranking

1. It 2017: He gave his all in this movie. All his effort, his physical and emotional talent gave life to an amazing character who has been praised around the world. All the time on make up and clothes, all the jumps and action scenes performed by himself, the ammount of takes in order to create an amazing and epic opening scene...  Wonderful job. More about my opinion on Bill’s Pennywise here

2. Simple Simon: He did an amazing job in this movie. Portraying a character with Asperger is not an easy task. It was well made, credible and make you feel empathy. His job was recognized in Sweden and Europe.

3. Hemlock Grove: love or hate Roman, the thing is that Bill made a good job for all the 3 seasons. An intense character needed a wonderful actor. He was able to express all the emotions and dilemma Roman lived during the show.

4. Battlecreek: The most sensitive and fragile side of a person performed by Bill. His wonderful job made me forget about eveything about this superficial world and want to hug this innocent soul. You can feel the sadness of the character through Bill’s performance. 

5. Simon and the oaks: Bill could show the different kinds of emotions that the character lived throughout the story... Somehow his job in this movie reminds me what he did in Hemlock Grove (just a little)

6. Behind blue skies: He did a good job as always. Compared to other movies, I think that this one didn’t require much effort from Bill. 

Favorite character Ranking

1. Henry Pearl (Battlecreek): What can I say? He’s my boy, my cute angel. I waited months for this movie and it was worth it. I wish he was real to give him love, understanding and tenderness... I don’t know how to write declarations of love OMG. I love him so much. He touched the deepest of my soul.

2. Pennywise (It 2017): He has already became part of the pop culture and part of the history of horror movies. He’s the reason of coming back to tumblr. I haven’t felt real chills until IT 2017. He made me feel ñáñaras en el occipucio for real for the very first time. I love this character (not like a clownf****) but as a person who loves well made characters... Probably Penny loves me... But inside his stomach X’DD

3. Simon (Simple Simon): My Swedish chavito (hehe JK). He’s so lovable, despite his condition he has a pure soul. I would like to hug him, but he would probably push me hehe. He’s so special, I would like to at least became his friend *sigh*

4. Martin (Behind blue skies): He’s the representation of growing up in a difficult world. Somehow I feel emphathy. 

5. Roman Godfrey (Hemlock Grove): He may be the sexiest of Bill’s characters, but he can’t be on the top of my list because of the things he did in that show. He doesn’t attrack me at all... I am an unusual person.

6. Simon (Simon and the oaks): I didn’t like how he treated his mom in this movie (if you know what I mean).

Movie or TV show Ranking

1. It 2017: Wonderful director, wonderful actors, wonderful story, funny and scary, acclaimed by the critics. It’s the reason why we are here. Everything has been said about this movie. It actually doesn’t need introduction.

2. Simple Simon: Really good story about the life of a boy with Asperger. Your perception about the people with this condition will change after watching this movie. So beautiful. I ended uo with a big smile on my face. Highly recommended. 

3. Battlecreek: Beautiful story, many lovable characters. You love Henry or you love Henry, there’s no option. This movie made me feel many things at the same time. About my favorite scene HERE. It has some script deficiencies. Good movie, but not excellent. Anyways I ended falling in love with Henry. What can I do?

4. Simon and the oaks: It’s a good movie that makes you think about life. The main character didn’t have an easy life. At the end the movie made me smile a litle and got me some sad feelings as well. There’s something about how the story is told that doesn’t convince me at all.

5. Behind blue skies: it’s an interesting story of a boy who has to grow up emotionally during a summer. He has a difficult life and has to deal with horrible adults. As I said before, I feel some empathy with the main character. After watching that movie I spent some time thinking about my own life.

6. Hemlock Grove: I am probably unfair with this show, but I haven’t watched all the episodes (I’m too lazy to watch tv shows). Anyways I have watched enough to say that even though it is an interesting story (the mistery and stories behind everybody in that town), has good actors and everything, the show is a little WTF to me and in several parts I lost interest. Probably, I am the only who doesn’t complain about not having a Disney style happy ending for this show. Everybody got what they deserved (maybe).

[rreyskywalkerr]

Bughead Secret Santa

My secret santa is @bughead-fanfiction You requested some fluff, so I have Jughead being an amazing dad :):):)

---

As Jughead cradled his newborn son and stooped down to let his big sister see, the little girl squealed in delight.

“Can I hold him, daddy? Pleeease?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Here, sit down and I'll put him in your arms. Remember, Sebastian can't use his neck yet, so you have to hold his head.” Jughead explained carefully as he set the swaddled baby in the excited girl's arms.

She looked at him with wide eyes and gently touched his face. Bella giggled when Sebastian scrunched his nose up. “Daddy?” she asked suddenly. “Now that you have a new baby, are you gonna get rid of me?” Her green eyes filled with tears and her lower lip wobbled, breaking her father's heart.

“Oh sweetheart of course not,” he soothed, scooping the baby back up to lay him in Betty's arms as she slept. When the came back, he swept his daughter up in a bear hug and stroked her back gently. “Your mom and I wouldn't trade you for the world. Why do you think we want to get rid of you?”

“Well you were so busy all the time getting ready for the baby,” she hiccupped. “We didn't get to play as much.”

“I'm gonna make sure we spend some more Bella time, okay? I'm so sorry we've been so busy, sweetie. We just want little Sebastian to have a safe place to live.”

“Okay, daddy,” Bella stopped his rambling like only she knew how to do and threw her arms around his neck again. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

---

“What's the matter, sweetie?” Jughead walked into his preteen daughter’s room timidly. Bella was sitting on her bed crying.

“Nobody asked me to the dance,” she cried. “Am I ugly, daddy?”

“Of course not!” he exclaimed, sitting down next to her and rubbing her shoulder. “You look just like your mama, who is the prettiest woman I've ever seen. These boys are all too stupid to see what's right in front of them. Besides, you're not allowed to date until you're 20.”

Bella laughed at his joke, knowing. He was somehow half serious. “Thanks daddy. I didn't really want to go anyway, but it still hurts that nobody wanted to ask me.”

“Maybe they were all too scared to ask you because you're so pretty,” Jughead teased again, yet still fully believing it. “Do you want to play Mario Kart?”

“Prepare to be destroyed,” she answered, making a beeline to the old Wii in the living room. Jughead followed much slower, tsking at his little girl, who was growing up far too fast.

---

“Dad, just take the picture!” Bella’s annoyed voice rang from across the porch. It was prom night and Jughead stood in disbelief that his oldest child would be graduating in less than a month.

He took several pictures of Bella and her boyfriend, whom Jughead didn't like, purely on the principle that he was dating Bella. Sure he was biased, but he was certain that nobody was worthy of his Bella.

He made sure to wear his old gang t-shirt that day, and to have his knife handy. He let betty take over camera duty while he whittled a stick to a sharp head, all while staring daggers at the teenage boy on his picturesque front porch.

“Lighten up, Jughead,” Betty scoffed as the couple left for the night. “She's 18, and she's smart.”

“I know, babe, but that's my litle girl. And before you can talk me out of it, I'm waiting up for her. I don't care if it's too much I want to know she's safe.”

“Whatever, Jug,” she sighed. “I don't want to hear you complaining tomorrow when you're dead on your feet.”

---

Bella twirled around the room in an excited flurry.  She was about to marry the love of her life. Her hair and makeup were all done and she was wearing her mother's wedding dress. As she danced around with her bridal party, she didn't notice her father standing in the doorway.

“I've been sent to tell you it's almost go time,” he announced, causing all the women to pause their movements. Bella noticed his eyes were brimming with tears as he looked her over from head to toe. “Come on,  sweetheart, it's my job to get you to the end of the aisle.”

He held out his arm and Bella took it eagerly. She had always been something of a daddy's girl, and had no shame about it.

“You look so beautiful,” he wept. “I swear, you're a spitting image of your mother on our wedding day, minus your dark hair. I'm so proud of you.”

“Thank you, daddy,” she blushed, fidgeting a little on the spot. “I have something to tell you.”

“Can it wait until after the wedding?”

“Nope,” she beamed. “You're gonna be a grandpa.”

“I- what? Bella, what?”

“We just found out last week! I wanted to tell you first.”

Jughead broke into tears at the happy news, engulfing his daughter in a big hug. He took a minute to compose himself before taking her arm once again. “Come on, let's get you down that aisle.”

He was a spluttering, sobbing mess all through the ceremony. Betty had to calm him down several times, handing him tissues and rubbing his arm. The combined emotion from the wedding and the big news Bella gave him had Jughead filled to the brim with unbridled happiness.

---

“Forsythe Gabriel,” Bella announced, handing the newborn baby to his grandfather. Nobody was surprised when Jughead burst into tears

“”I just never thought I'd be here, married with kids and a grandson,” he whispered. “I'm so proud of you, sweetie. You've got a great husband and a beautiful baby boy and the job you always dreamed about.”

Just then, baby Forsythe took hold of Jughead's finger, locking it in a death grip. He visibly melted, leaning down to press the baby's fingers softly to his lips. “I can't believe you named him after me.”

“Why not name my son after the best father anybody could ever ask for? You've always been there for me, daddy, in more ways than you'll ever know. Thank you.”

“No, thank you, Bella. You made me a better man, you and your brother and mom all together. I love you.”

“I love you too, dad.”

[bouhoue]

Feeling Gray

Litle one-shot for @actual-cat-kat! It’s not as polished as I’d like it to be, so I’ll probably post it again later. Enjoy!

The Red Huntress was just getting back from a long night of ghost hunting. She was flying on her overboard slowly, enjoying the feeling of the wind through her suit and contemplating the beautiful night sky. And then she heard it, just as she flew past the park. The crying. Due to the regular ghost attacks, it wasn’t rare to see a kid getting separated from their parents in the panic, or to find one that had hidden somewhere in hope of not getting noticed by the spectral entities. Valerie wasn’t sure what a kid would be doing outside at this hour, but some of the most brutal ghost attacks could have left an adult or a teenager wounded too. Valerie, being far from heartless, couldn’t just walk away from someone crying alone into the night. She had to make sure that person was okay.

 After doing a quick visual check of the park and seeing nobody, Valerie slowly turned toward the wooded part of the park. The trees in this part were dense, and the forest was criss-crossed by paths. In the center of the forest was a lake crossed by a bridge where Valerie often went to feed the ducks with her father when she was young. Still flying her overboard, Valerie decided to follow the sounds of the crying, which were getting louder and louder as she carefully followed the path.

 She finally found herself at the edge of the lake area. At that point, she could hear the crying, no, the sobbing, perfectly. It sounded masculine, and older than a child’s. But mostly, it sounded heartbreaking. There was sobbing, hiccupping, weeping. Still not close enough to the edge of the forest to actually see the lake, Valerie paused. Clearly the person crying wasn’t a child, and the person didn’t sound like she was in any physical pain. But psychological pain? Well, that wasn’t really her cup of tea. Plus, the Red Huntress never really chit-chatted with anyone. That would put her in too much risk. But at the same time, she just couldn’t leave. Valerie had a physical need to make to crying stop. To know that the stranger was ok.

 After pondering on the issue for a minute, Valerie decided to just remove her suit and go. The Red Huntress wasn’t a talker, but Valerie Gray could be. She took a deep breath, and finally walked out of the tree line. What see saw made her stop instantly. Sitting on the bridge crying his eyes out was Phantom. The Phantom. The bane of her existence. Sitting there. Crying like a baby. Wait… crying?

 The ghost boy normally smug face was now distorted in an ugly grimace. His cheeks were covered in tears, which he was wiping with the back of his hands every once in awhile. His shoulders were hitching up and down to the rhythm of his sobbing. His face was facing downward, and his legs were dangling on the edged of the small bridge.

 When she saw him, Valerie reflexes kicked in. She fumbled with her backpack to get an ectogun out. The noise alerted Phantom, who turned to look at her. They made eye contact for a second, and then Phantom just turned back to sadly stare at the water. He didn’t go back to full on sobbing, but tears were still streaming down his face.

 Valerie, who was now expecting this to be a trap, or some stupid scheme by the ghost boy, was left confused by Phantom’s behavior. Why wasn’t he shooting her? Or smiling smuggling while threatening to expose her secret identity? The sheer surprise that he caused her kept her from shooting him instantly. Instead, while holding him at gunpoint, she asked ‘’ What do you want ghost?’’

 Phantom, not even looking up to her, quietly answered ‘’ Can’t a guy just cry in peace?’’. Valerie got a little closer ‘’ There’s no use pretending, I know you ghosts don’t have any emotions, so now tell me what you’re really doing here?’’ Phantom laughed bitterly ‘’ Oh yeah, I’m just there crying to pretend. Tell me Red, who I am pretending for? There was no one here before you interrupted me’’

 Valerie’s ectogun was now an inch from Phantom’s head. ’’This is your last chance. Tell me why you’re here or I’ll shoot’’ An ectogun wasn’t as strong as a real gun, and the shot wouldn’t ‘’kill’’ him, but it would surely knock him out. Valerie had a chance to capture the famous ghost boy. But this was too easy. Valerie had to make sure this wasn’t a trap.

 Phantom stared at the cannon of the ghost weapon intensely ‘’ Shoot me for all I care, I’m not in the mood tonight.’’ And then, he turned back to the water, completely ignoring her. Valerie’s hold on her gun was shaky. This had to be a trap. Phantom would never just turn his back to her like that. She couldn’t take the chance to shoot him. But she had to get to the bottom of this. Slowly lowering her ectogun, but still keeping an iron grip on it, she asked ‘’ You really maintain you’re here just to cry? Why should I believe you? What does an evil ghost scum like you could have to cry about?’’

 More tears fell. From this close, Valerie could see that they were slightly neon green tinged. ‘’Well, people calling me evil could be one of those reasons.’’. Valerie’s face scrunched up ‘’You are evil. You ruined my life, you robbed that bank, you attacked the mayor…’’

 Phantom shook his head. Tear fell from his chin. ‘’ No…. I already tried to tell you. Those are all misunderstandings. You guys never listen.... The ghost dog wasn’t mine, he came back to the labs on his own and I actually tried to stop him. The mayor was being overshadowed. And then…’’ Phantom’s face scrunched up, like he was in pain ‘’ I did rob the bank… But not on my own accord.’’ Valerie scoffed.

 ‘’Do you even have any proof to what you’re saying? And what do you mean not on your own accord?’’.  Phantom sighed ‘’ Well, the ghost dog came back because his squeaky toy was still in the kennels under Axion lab. And then you can probably look up some pictures with the mayor incident, you’ll see that his eyes are red. And remember when that creepy circus came to town? You know, Circus Gothica?’’ Valerie, almost against herself, gave the tiniest nod. ‘’Well the ringmaster had that staff that could control ghost. So yeah, I robbed a bank. But I got help and was freed from that creep’s control. And then I made sure that he got arrested.That good enough for you?’’.

 Valerie’s mind was racing. She did remember her dad speaking of the security dogs a few years back. When she visited the lab, she didn’t saw any, but didn’t ponder on it. But now, she was wondering. What if Phantom was actually telling the truth? After a moment of hesitation, she quickly went for her phone. A quick internet search about the mayor incident proved that indeed, the mayor had red eyes on the pictures. In the meantime, Phantom silently waited for her to speak. When she was done with her research, which also brought up old newspapers articles about Axion’s security dogs being put down and pictures of Circus Gothica, Valerie slowly got her phone down, and looked at Phantom directly in the eyes. Yes, she was angry at him. Because when you hold a grudge for so long, it’s hard to let it go. But Valerie was no fool. She knew proof when she saw it. And, as much as it pained her, she knew when to admit she was wrong.

 ‘’Ok, so maybe you’re not trying to kill us all. But then… what are you still doing here?’’. Phantom’s eyebrows went up a little. ‘’What do you mean?’’  Valerie tucked her ectogun in the hem of her skirt, and put her hand on the railing of the bridge, right next to Phantom. She looked at the small pond, in which the stars reflected beautifully. ‘’I mean, why are you still here? All the other ghosts either try to take over the world or enslave us, or whatever other whatnot. So, if you’re not here to be the evil ghost I always thought you were, then why are you? I mean I get it, you fight the other ghosts… But why? Why would you protect us? Especially considering how we treated you…’’

 For the first time since their conversation started, Phantom looked up. His cheeks were still covered in tears, but the look in his eyes had changed. There wasn’t as much sorrow in them as before. ‘’ Did you ever considered I still had people here that I care about? People that don’t deserve to die in a ghost attack because nobody could stop them?’’ Valerie frowned ‘’But I can…’’ Phantom cut her ‘’ I know you can Valerie, but you have a live. You have places to be, things to do. You can’t always be there when there’s an attack.’’ Valerie mouth slowly closed. And then, realization dawned on her.

 ‘’Wait, if you still have people here that you care about…. When exactly did you die? Did I knew you? Who were you?’’ Valerie was almost screaming now. Phantom smiled. ‘’Don’t worry, I’m nobody you knew… I just happened to make some friends here.’’ Valerie’s face looked doubtful ‘’ If you say so….’’ She was going to do some research later.

 This was followed by a slightly uncomfortable silence. The two ghost fighters were looking at the lake, lost in their thoughts. Phantom wasn’t crying anymore. After a minute or two, the ghost slowly started floating up. He looked at Valerie sheepishly ‘’Well, I’ll be on my way now....’’ As he started to drift away, Valerie turned around ‘’Wait!’’ Phantom turned back, and landed silently on the bridge. Valerie held out her hand to him. ‘’ Before you leave, I just wanted… just wanted to be sure… I mean… Truce?’’

 Phantom smiled at those words. His glow suddenly seemed brighter ‘’Truce’’ He took her hand and shook it. Valerie felt the cold, but didn’t quite register it, as her brain was running wild after their conversation. Releasing her, Phantom took a leap to the sky. ‘’See ya Red!’’

 When Danny flew home that night, he was serene. He was finally at peace with Valerie. And he had somebody else. Somebody else who cared.