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cyanoticfireflies · 7 months ago

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Hazbin Hotel - Rewatch Thoughts (Episode 1, Part 1)

Notes: As I’ve been re-reading some of my favorite things (as in, not necessarily just fanfics, but other stuff that I enjoy) I got part of the way through @canary3d-obsessed’s “Restless Rewatch: The Untamed” and thought to myself that I should do one of these for Hazbin Hotel! I can’t do a first time reacting to, because by this point I’ve watched it a good eight times -_- But this way I can point out some of the things that I’ve noticed on multiple rewatches, some of which prove just how clever the team behind this show is! Also, you will get unapologetic Huskerdust shipping. This is just my life now.

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Episode 1

So we start off with Charlie giving us the background story on Heaven, Hell, daddy Lucy, mama Lili, and all of that. Heaven was “good,” Lucifer was a dreamer who thought of free will, the elders of Heaven said “nah,” Lucifer said “but what if yea,” and shit went sideways.

As someone who likes watching reaction videos on YouTube, I’ve been surprised by the number of people who have watched this intro and gone “Who’s Lilith?” And then there are the ones who say they heard about her from Diablo 4. I feel like Lilith isn’t… rare lore? I don’t know where or when I first heard about Lilith, but that kind of supports my stance of surprise?

(I tried to show my religious friend Hazbin – leaning on the “it’s about redemption” point – and it was actually the mention of Lilith that first triggered her? Because “you have to get really deep into things to find out about Lilith”? I am confused.)

I won’t go into my theories too heavily at this point – I’ll put up a final chapter for those so I can take it down in humiliation when the show laughs in my face later – but Eve looks very, very evil when she gets that fruit…

Anyway, Luci and Lili got exiled, Luci developed depression, Lili developed magic song powers then fluffed off seven years ago. Don’t worry, Charlie – your mom just went to go get some milk and cigarettes.

Genuinely, is Lilith being a song demon why everyone in Hell has pre-choreographed musical numbers? If she “empowered demon-kind” with her songs, does that include giving them all baby song powers? We know that these songs aren’t reality breaks because at the end of “Loser, Baby” the sharks comment on the song. (There’s also Vaggie and Angel’s discussion in “Happy Day in Hell” but since that’s in-song it feels like a less-strong argument.)

So it turns out that Charlie has been speaking this whole prolog bit aloud to herself. Relatable, girl – me dictating to myself the entire course of actions it takes to get through my email inbox. My officemate wears headphones so she won’t think I’m talking to her when I start talking to myself.

Also, poof – kitty!

I love KeeKee (pronounced “key-key” because, and this is true, she’s a key). But I also don’t know what the point of KeeKee is? If it’s just to give Charlie a pet, that’s totally fine. She also has Razzle and Dazzle, but Charlie could be one of those people with two cats, a full fishtank, a canary, and a husky and that’s totally chill.

(Why yes, my in-laws’ place is a zoo, why do you ask?)

I think I saw somewhere that KeeKee is the key to the hotel? But when Lucifer pops up later he immediately coos over KeeKee like Charlie has had her forever, so she obviously didn’t come with the hotel. Did Charlie change the locks on the hotel to KeeKee-compatible locks after she bought the place? I assume this is a metaphorical key?

(Lucifer and KeeKee in episode 5.)

Vivienne has said that KeeKee is a “physical manifestation of the hotel” but even that doesn’t make a lot of sense with the timeline… *Shrugs*

Charlie and Vaggie talk, and I honestly get so much amusement out of people who are like “Is that her sister? Are they best friends?” And I know that they didn’t, like, make out in their opening scene. But I didn’t ever suspect that they weren’t girlfriends? Maybe it’s just because I read into pretty much all media from a queer lens.

(Right here, ma’am.)

Charlie will go on to call Vaggie her girlfriend much later in episode 5 and make it official-official, but if you don’t go into everything with a straight-is-default mindset I’m not sure how you miss it.

We blip into Alastor’s take on a commercial for a hotel. Which is thoroughly enticing to exactly… Alastor.

(Quick question on the sinner designs – and I won’t stop every time we see a cluster of sinners to do this. But everyone’s design has something to do with how they lived or died, right? Angel is from a “web of crime” family, Husk is an unlucky black cat [I know, he’s a tuxedo cat not a fully black cat], Alastor was shot by a hunter like a deer… was grenade man some type of bomber? A war criminal? What is his story???)

His little hand-drawn picture is kind of cute, but it also makes me laugh because we actually see another character do something similar later on: Vox!

(And, yeah, Charlie obviously.)

I want someone to write the fic where Alastor and Vox’s relationship started in an introductory art class before descending into the chaos we see in episodes 2 and 8.

Vaggie does not like Alastor’s sense of humor and starts yelling at him. Charlie tries the *kindergarten teacher* nice feedback. “I love your use of color,” she says, staring at his construction paper covered in scribbled blobs of blue and orange. “Very creative.”

(“Maybe if you crumpled your drawing into a little ball like this, it would look better in the trashcan, honey!”)

Alastor doesn’t see the problem here. Alastor seems to have exactly zero capacity to accept anything that isn’t Alastor’s way, so this is unsurprising.

And then, with the sultry wail of a saxophone, we’re introduced to the bestest spider (and the only spider this horrifically arachnophobia author actually adores:) Angel Dust

Angel is totally willing to shoot an amateur porno right there on the sofa if it will help draw sinners to the hotel for Charlie.

And this would actually probably work in Hell, honestly. The horniest sinners actually would be knocking the walls down if they thought that with every night’s stay you got a free round with Hell’s most famous porn star. “Cum to the Hazbin Hotel for some ‘quality time’ with our singular resident.”

I am curious what Angel’s concept for his porno commercial was. Just him and Alastor banging dirty on the coffee table in the foyer? Night in the life of the brothel that is Angel’s bedroom?

(Also, I know Val owns Angel in the studio and Angel has some freedom outside of it, but does that include shooting his own pornos? Is it okay if they’re not for money? Or is it still not okay because Angel doesn’t own rights to his own image? Would Angel have to charge so Val could get his cut?)

Charlie doesn’t want to exploit Angel that way, but Angel starts listing off all of his highly exploitable attributes. He lists the legs twice, which is hilarious, but I’m immediately zeroed in on “the gag reflex.”

You’d think that for someone who makes a significant amount of his living sucking dick that it should be “the lack of a gag reflex” but the thing about Angel is that he’s not exactly sucking dick for the nicest guys around. Honestly, the fact that he does have a gag reflex and therefore will be gagging and choking and drooling is probably a turn-on for his usual partners.

We’re interrupted from Angel attempting to “keep going all night, baby,” by Lucifer calling, and the fact that his contact image in Charlie’s phone is a rubber duck in Lucifer’s top hat is honestly too cute?

Angel wants to know why Alastor can’t just make people stay in the hotel. And the timing on this animation is actually a little weird. After he says that he can, Husk chimes in with “Why do you think I’m here?” but Alastor is already moving to see around Vaggie as Husk starts talking. Has he primed Husk to be his hype man if someone starts asking questions like this?

Here's Alastor, looking at Husk before Angel and Vaggie even turn their heads – and Alastor had to move his whole *torso* to see around Vaggie.

A: “Now, remember. If anyone starts asking if I’m big and bad, you say yes.”

H: “Sure, Alastor.”

A: “I mean, I’ll say so first. But then you jump in and talk me up.”

H: “Yeah, all right.”

A: “But, like, right away.”

H: “Uh-huh.”

A: “Should we practice? We should practice.”

I do find it funny that we know the timeline – Alastor, Husk, and Niffty have been at the hotel a week per Vaggie’s words earlier. But Husk is already grousing about them bitching and moaning all the time. It’s been seven days?! How much bitching and moaning are you guys doing?! And it’s not just listening to, like, Angel bitch and moan. It’s “you fucks.”

(Or “you fuck’s” because Amazon doesn’t know how to pluralize a swear word?)

Vaggie didn’t even want a bar, but I’m betting it took her about two piscos on the rocks to be over that.

We also get our official series intro to Niffty here when she says “I like being forced!” in her happy little voice with a wide smile.

(God, I want the Niffty episode.)

Angel starts hitting on Husk, but (YMMV) I feel like at this point Angel isn’t trampling all over Husk’s boundaries the way he does later. He’s just throwing passes and Husk is kind of engaging him? By responding? He threatens Angel, making it clear that the flirting is unwelcome, absolutely.

But I kind of want to see where the conversation would have gone if Vaggie hadn’t stepped in. At some point it might have gotten snappier, but Angel wasn’t in meltdown mode like he is in “Masquerade” so they probably could have kept bickering for a bit.

Vaggie and Angel start talking about the core premise of the show. Is Hell the end of the road? Maybe, but also maybe not. Charlie thinks that it’s worth trying so that’s what Vaggie is going to do.

We as rewatchers know that where you end up in the afterlife isn’t as permanent of an assignment as the show makes it sound. And Vaggie I’m sure highly suspects so as well. This conversation is literally happening with one person who was in Heaven and now lives in Hell.

Though I do have to wonder if there’s a teeny tiny part of Vaggie that hopes the hotel fails, though? If Sinners really can be redeemed into Heaven, then she has to double/triple/quadruple think about what she’s done as an Exorcist. If the Sinners prove irredeemable, it doesn’t *justify* what she did or anything, but it could potentially relieve some of the guilt for her.

(Blake Roman’s delivery on “crack is expensive” is my favorite moment from episode 1.)

If we didn’t know that Charlie was drowning in daddy issues, I feel like we get a good demonstration at the end of her phone call. Yes, she’s excited and happy and hopeful. But she also says “Okay” and hangs up.

Maybe Lucifer said, “I’ll talk to you soon” or something and she said “okay” back. But I never hang up after a call with my dad without a “love you, bye.”

IDK why Charlie calls Vaggie over except to show her hyperactive squirrel brain going wild. Alastor and Angel are staring at them and seem like they can hear every word even after Charlie had Vaggie come around the corner.

Vaggie knows that Charlie means Adam, right? She has to. Charlie says “the leader of the angel army” and as of now, I mean… that’s Adam.

Also, initially I missed the detail that Adam was the one to call the meeting.

Was he going to inform Lucifer face-to-(virtual)-face that they were moving up the next extermination? Do Lucifer and Adam meet regularly? I think not from some of the dialogue in episode 8, but then what is the Heaven Embassy for?

(We'll pick up in Episode 1, Part 2 due to Tumblr's 30 images-per-post limit.)

#hazbin hotel #recap #images #randomness #musings #meta #analysis #charlie morningstar #vaggie #angel dust #husk #alastor #niffty #adam #lute

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writefasttalkevenfaster · 4 years ago

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Aaron Hotchner / August Part I

Request: Hotch and reader become unlikely friends after a broken doorknob brings them together, and maybe start to feel something a little more? (College AU)

Word Count: 8,224

Warnings: Fluff, angst, mutual pining, mentions of Hotch’s dad and difficult home life, Haley being jealous, a kiss (*gasp*),

He was never yours, you thought, your fingers grasping at the pen, the same hands that had held his once. You knew that, but you let him in anyway.

Into your apartment. Into your life. Into your heart.

And then you let him go.

Out of your apartment. Out of your life. Out of your heart.

You signed your name, placing it on the arrangement of fresh cut white lilies, wrapped in plastic, before handing it to the florist.

But you wouldn’t now, not again.

~~~

A knock on your door roused you from sleep. A groan on your lips, you rolled over on your bed, kicking off what remained of your thin blanket draped over you. A cool breeze rolled over you, cutting through the thick, sticky August humidity, but it wasn’t enough to lull you back to sleep. And the sharp rapping at your door certainly didn’t help. You grumbled, stuffing the pillow over your head, hoping whoever it was would take a hint.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Apparently not.

You threw yourself up, face twisted in a scowl, as your eyes flickered to your clock: 12:17 AM.

Yet another knock, and you pulled on a robe over your tank and shorts, draping it over your shoulders, “I’m coming,” you growled, and the fourth knock stopped short, and you tripped over nearly every piece of furniture in your sleep, throwing open the door, “what?”

He blinks, his dark hair as black at the night behind him, several locks falling in front of his forehead, “Sorry, I, uh—”

“Hotchner?” you tilt your head, crossing your arms, “what are you doing here?”

And it’s his turn to be confused, “I’m sorry, do we—”

He didn’t remember you — how lovely, an unwelcome interruption who doesn’t bother to learn your name. You tell him your name, and it still doesn’t register, “We’re in the same criminal justice class? The one we literally started last week?” One of two summer classes that you seriously believed that you conned into taking, all in the hopes that you would be able to finish up your degree a semester earlier. If you passed, you would be done next semester.

Red runs across his cheeks, “I’m sorry, I sit in the front, I—”

You wave him off, while fanning yourself with your hand, “I don’t care honestly, just why? Why are you here?”

A flush climbs his neck, “I just moved in next door, and I got locked out of my apartment. The door handle is rusted over, and my roommate is out of town—”

“And?” you rubbed at your brow, your manners didn’t exactly shine at 12 AM.

“Could I stay with you? Just for tonight,” he held up his hands, “we have that midterm tomorrow in Crim, and I really—”

“So you remember the midterm but not my name huh?” and the flush bridges over his nose and cheekbones, “I’m kidding Hotchner.” you scratch your head — on one hand, you didn’t want to let a stranger into your apartment, but at the same time, you didn’t want him to sleep outside his apartment, you sighed, “take the couch, but I’m locking my door, and I don’t want you disturbing me unless I’m somehow sleeping through the exam tomorrow.”

“Thank you, I—” you wave him off, “I really appreciate—”

“Just come in,” you yawn, stretching your tired muscles, still heavy with the sleep you were deprived of, but just like that, you felt your mind rouse, sleep deflating from your head in a slow leak, “ugh fuck.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m wide awake now,” if looks could kill, you were sure your criminal justice class would be investigating Hotchner’s murder, “I have a hard time falling back asleep once I’m awake.”

He raises a brow, “I thought you were exhausted?”

“Well tell that to my brain,” you groan, collapsing in an armchair, covering your face, “now I’m going to be up until 5 AM.”

He glances at your kitchen, “How about I make us some tea?” you look up, lips twisted in a frown, “decaffeinated, if you have it?”

“Third drawer from the left,” you snuggle into the chair, hoping to lull your brain into a false sense of sleep.

His voice cuts through your haze, the familiar click of the gas burner, “Can I ask you something?”

“At your own risk,” you mumble, utterly too comfortable.

“How did you know who I was?” the sink knob squeaks as he turns it, the rush of water, the quiet hum of the water as it filled the cups he was undoubtedly rinsing now, “there must be at least fifty people in that class.”

“You make a hell of an impression, Hotchner,” you sigh, shifting in your chair, wiping the sweat from the back of your neck, “the first day of class, you argued with the professor about his opinions about criminal justice reform and the necessity of it, or as he put it, the unessential nature of it. ”

“Well, his opinion was wrong,” you laughed, eyes still very much shut, “his opinion wasn’t even based on facts, he was just dictating to us on his own notions—”

“I know, and you made sure he knew that,” you finally opened your eyes when you heard the tea kettle whistle, “that’s why I remembered your name — the way he asked you for it, and the way you replied—”

He poured the hot water into each freshly washed mug, “With hopefully with an equal amount of respect,”

“A very minimal amount,” you propped your head up on your elbow, watching him bring over the mugs.

“So an equal amount,” you take the mug from his hand, pressing it against your lips, warming your lips, chuckling, “I give respect to those who deserve it.”

“And what does that mean for me?” and he smiles.

He raises his mug, a wry smile on his lips, “Well considering you could kick me out at any point, I have the utmost respect.”

You roll your eyes, hiding the smile on your lips by taking a sip, “Smart.”

~~~

And you soon learned Hotchner was very smart — when he touted his 100% on the exam a week later, next to your measly 98%.

“You owe me two points, Hotchner,” you would say to him, walking back to your apartment building, the humidity as thick as a fog. You tugged at your oversized shirt, hanging loosely around your torso, but somehow still sticking to your sweaty body. You felt like a drowned rat who hadn’t even had the pleasure of being in the water, “I would have gotten your score if someone hadn’t woken me up in the middle of the night.”

“Well, how about instead of talking the professor into giving you two points, how about a coffee instead?” he offers, hands in his pockets, “on me.”

You grin, “It better be.”

~~~

“FBI track?” you whistle lowly, sitting across from Hotchner in a coffee shop around the corner from your building, “some ambitions you got there, Hotchner.”

“I aim high,” he takes a sip of his drink, “What? Can’t see me as an agent?” You shrug, your eyes flickering over his form, biting your lip — well he would look good in a suit and tie, wouldn’t he? And the vest— “What are you smiling about?”

“Just imagining you as a G-man,” you admit, a grin on your lips, “let’s just say I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“And what high aspirations do you have?”

“Nothing too fancy,” you stir your drink, watching the liquid swirl, “law school is the plan, hopefully eventually landing at a corporate firm and then move into the nonprofit sector.”

“You don’t seem so excited,” you shrug.

“Not everyone has high hopes and dreams, G-man,” and he rolls his eyes, lips pressed into a purse, unconvinced, “well I would love to be a writer, but I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” he raises an eyebrow, “or you’re too scared to try?”

“Cute mind games, nice try,” you sigh, eyes falling to stare at your drink again, “it’s hard to believe in yourself when you’re the only one who does, and I can barely manage it.”

He leans back in his chair, black locks falling across his forehead, “Well, how about I pick up the slack?”

“You don’t have to say that—”

“I want to,” he cuts you off, and you glance up, his gaze utterly paralyzing and earnest, that you almost want to believe and maybe you do just a little — otherwise that thump against your ribcage is something else — some other feeling you are not ready to contend with. But you don’t get the chance. He breaks your gaze to glance at the clock, and curses, “I have to get home. My girlfriend is going to be calling me soon.”

Your heart twists, but you ignore it, because this was enough — this moment was enough, “Yeah, get home quick. You gotta tell that girlfriend of yours about that grade of yours. Nothing is hotter than a nerd,”

“Speaking from experience?” you scoff, and he pauses, “can we do this again sometime? This was fun.”

It was enough, right?

You smile, “Of course.”

~~~

“Fucking fuck—” you hissed the shattered glass all over the floor, and the hot liquid splattered across the wood, “Shit.” you stare at the mess, cursing, stepping over the broken glass, as you pick up the shards with a cloth napkin, grabbing the broom and dustpan from the closet.

You sweep up the mess best you can, but now before cutting your finger on a shard, “Shit, fuck,” you wrap the cloth around the wound, digging through the drawers for a bandage. Fuck your roommate for going away for the summer, and also moving everything around while digging through the apartment for their shit. You slam the last drawer shut, no bandages, but you found a dozen condoms of varying shapes and colors — not exactly useful for treating a wound.

So either you walk down to the corner to the store with a cloth wrapped around your finger, or you could tie this cloth around your finger while you studied.

Well, you glanced at the door, there was a third option.

You and Hotchner had seen quite a bit of each other over the past few weeks— June bleeding into July — studying, watching TV, grabbing bad coffee after class. He was one of the only people in three years who had made you comfortable to be yourself — to admit to things you would have never dreamed of telling, without guarantee of a memory wipe (well maybe if he joined the FBI).

What was it about him anyway?

He opened the door, a smile pulling at his lips, before he glanced at your hand, “What happened?”

“Cut myself on some glass, do you have a bandage neighbor?” you glanced at the door knob, “I see the landlord finally fixed your door knob, so I won’t have any more late night visits.”

“Come in,” he herds you in, shutting the door behind him, “give me a second, I have to find the first aid kit.”

You grip the cloth, watching him dart around the apartment, brow furrowed, eyes narrowed in concentration — you particularly enjoyed the way his lower lip— no. No you could not do this.

“You’d think a first aid kit would be easier to find,” you call after his disappearing back, “since ‘first’ is in the title.”

“And where’s yours?” he asks, as he walks back into the living room, kit in hand, “I don’t think you’d be over here if you found yours.”

“Ah, I like the company,” he raises an eyebrow, placing the kit beside you, “plus I don’t have to use my own bandages,” you watch him grab a paper napkin, running it under water, before returning. You reach for the cloth, but he brushes you off, taking your wrist, “you don’t have to—”

“It’s fine,” his eyes remained concentrated, as he pulled the rag away from your finger, “it’s mostly stopped bleeding now, it’s not so deep.”

“Really, Dr. Hotchner?” and you hissed a little as he cleaned the wound, red staining the nearly translucent tissue, “did you ever consider a career in medicine?”

He clicked his tongue, his hand was so much bigger than yours, his touch gentle, sending warmth blooming up your body, “Biology puts me to sleep,” he raises his eyes, “no jokes. Plus,” he scrunches his face and pulls the napkin away, grimacing at the blood, “I don’t like blood.”

You chuckle, “Come on, Mr. FBI agent, won’t you have to deal with a lot of blood?”

His lips twist in a line, “Actually seems like I may see you in law school,”

You furrow your brow, “What do you mean?” he sighs, grabbing a bandage from the kit, peeling the backing off of it, “Hotchner—”

“Law school is a safer option. I can still put bad guys away, I can be a prosecutor, and I won’t be at risk of getting shot—”

“Bullshit,” you cross your arms, “it’s not what you want.”

“It’s not always about me—”

“This is your life,” you get up, and his shoulder sag, “we get one life, Hotchner — are you going to waste it doing what other people want?”

“You’re one to talk,” he snaps, “you should be a writer, but you’re going to law school, just like me.”

You know he’s right — you know you’re a hypocrite, but you don’t care, “Why did you change your mind?”

Your question is quiet, but heavy — it hangs in the air, in the silence, and you feel as if you know the answer already, “I was talking to Haley,” and you hold your tongue, “it’s safer if I go to law school. It’ll be better when we start our life together.”

“Hotchner—”

“That’s not the only reason,” he swallows thickly, he slumps in his chair, “my father — he—” his voice broke.

You shake your head, throat dry, “You don’t have to—”

“He abused us,” he says quietly, “He worked a lot, and if it wasn’t for that, I…” he trailed off, glancing down, “but when he was around…” he scoffed, “nothing was good enough. No one could please him, not my mom or my brother. I never tried. He didn’t like that,” he ran his fingers across his face, flinching as if he can still remember the blows, “It wasn’t long after he gave me a black eye and broke my rib that he had shipped me off to boarding school. And I never looked back.”

Your chest aches,“Aaron—”

“I want a good job, and I want a good life,” his eyes are hard when he looks up, “ I don’t want to be the kind of husband that my wife isn’t happy to see. I don’t want to be the father who isn’t there. I want to give them everything I have, and if this is what it takes…” he shrugs, biting his lip.

“I understand, I get it,” and he nods, taking your hand again to place the bandage over your cut, “But Aaron, one thing?” he smooths over the bandage with his finger, glancing up, “just don’t lose yourself along the way, okay?”

Your fingers entangle with his, he squeezes your hand, “It’s a promise.”

~~~

There’s a knock on the door, but you don’t bother to get up from your bed. Only twisting in the sheets, burying your head in the soft comfort of the pillow. And you hear the faint and familiar call of your name through the plaster thick walls and paper thin doors.

And you knew how this went.

So you rolled out of bed, stalking over to the door, but instead of opening it, you frowned at it, rubbing at your forehead, “What?”

“Some way to greet someone who brought you today’s notes and assignment,” and you sigh, opening the door, plucking the assignment from his hands, tilting your head.

“Thank you. Anything else?”

He frowns, “What’s wrong?” you sigh, shaking your head.

“You sure that you’re here to study criminal justice? Maybe you would be better off as a Psychology major,” you mutter, allowing him in, as you collapse on the couch in a huff. And you see him sit, waiting and watching, and you slump against the cushion, “what?”

“Words are dangerous around you,” he shrugs, “I’m waiting for them not to be.”

“I’m just having a bad day,” you cross your arms, words sharp, “have you ever had one before?” and then you crumple at the hurt that flashes across his face, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry — this is why I wanted to be left alone.”

And he moves, sliding in beside you, grabbing the TV remote from the coffee table, “You up for something light?” and you furrow your brow, “or we could watch what I want to watch?”

“What are you doing?”

“You clearly don’t want to talk about it, but I’m not going to leave you alone,” he shifts next to you, gaze unverring from the now lit TV, casting the contours of his face in a low light, “so what are we watching?”

He clicks on some medical drama, and you snatch the remote from him, hiding your smile from him, as your shoulder brushes his, “Not this.”

~~~

Aaron doesn’t remember when he falls asleep, but he does. When he wakes up, the sun has already peaked over the horizon, the low hum of the TV rousing him from his sleep. And he stirs, before feeling a distinct weight on his shoulder, the mumble of his name near his ear, and fingers brushing his thigh.

His eyes flutter open, and he realizes where he is.

Shit. You both had fallen asleep. His neck aches as he turns to look at you, making him pay for the position the muscles were forced to contort to the night before. He glances at you, biting his lip. You snore softly against his shoulder, lips parted. A few strands of hair fall across your forehead. He brushes them back, tucking them into place. He should move. He should wake you. But he doesn’t. He watches you sleep a moment — you were so peaceful, unlike yesterday.

There was a part of him that wished you would have told him what was wrong. Told him what was bothering you. Told him what was on your mind. Told him everything about you.

But that was normal right? Friends always want to know everything about each other? And he would consider you a close friend, right? A friend, a good friend. Just a friend.

You murmur his name again, under your breath, and he feels a small shiver run down his spine, as he shuts his eyes again, finding your hand and resting his on top.

Just a few more minutes.

~~~

“Hey Hotchner,” you knock at his door, clutching your binder to your chest, hearing only silence in return. “I wanted to give your notes back, and see you were free, open up,” still nothing, you knock harder, “come on. I know you don’t have class today, I really don’t want to go to that movie alone—” Your fist nearly collides with a person’s face as the door whips open, and you rear back, finding not Hotchner, but a very upset girl, “hi, uh—”

“Who are you?” she crossed her arms across her petite frame, her blond hair tied in a loose pony, bangs hanging loose and framing her face.

“Hi,” you say your name, plastering a weak smile on your lips — you weren’t used to this much hostility this quickly (usually at least took five minutes before someone hated you this much), “I’m Hotchner’s neighbor, we’re in the same criminal justice class. I wanted to return his notes and see if he was free—”

“He’s not,” a saccharine smile pulls at the corners of her mouth, “He’s spending the weekend with me. I’m his girlfriend, Haley.”

You nod, “He’s mentioned you before, it’s nice to meet you—”

“And you,” her fake smile informs you that it very much has not been nice to meet you, as her eyes flicker to the bathroom, “Aaron’s busy, but I’ll let him know you dropped by—” and you open your mouth, holding the notes up, “I’ll take those. Thanks again. Bye!”

The door shuts, as you stand mouth open, staring at the door.

And that was Haley.

~~~

You see Aaron the next Monday in class, as he slides in beside you, rubbing his eyes, hair askew, “What happened to you?”

“Didn’t sleep very well last night,” he mumbles, pulling his book from his bag, and you frown, opening your mouth again, only to be interrupted by your professor.

Class passes in a painfully slow haze as always, with one exception — Hotchner wasn’t taking notes. Usually each class he would be thoughtfully taking careful notes, while you scribbled every word the professor said, hoping your notes would be legible when needed later. But today, he wasn’t. Instead, he stared straight forward, his pen unmoving, lying flat against the page between his fingers, but he wasn’t looking at the professor. Not really anyway. His eyes were glazed over, his brow impossibly furrowed, expression twisted under a thick haze of anxiety and worry. Even when the professor adjourned the class for the day, he still sat, staring at the blank notebook page.

“You planning to attend the next class? Heard that Immunology is a hot ticket,” and he jerks from his thoughts, blinking as he glances around the quickly emptying classroom.

“Shit,” the expletive flies from his mouth, as he gathers his things, shoving them unceremoniously into his bag, following you out of the room as students for the next class begin to file into their unassigned assigned seats.

He doesn’t say a word as you both schlep back to the apartment building, the only accompaniment the low buzz of flies, the too warm embrace of the sun, and the silence that hangs between the two of you, much like a funeral march.

“Okay,” you said, standing in front of him, “what is going on?”

“Nothing, I’m fine—”

“So you don’t want the notes from today?” his mouth opens and closes, shaking his head, “Hotchner, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to — but I just want to know you’re okay.”

“I’m having a bad day, you ever had one before?” he echoes your words, before a smile pulls at the corners of his lips, a heavy sigh following it, but your gaze is unwavering, “You really care, don’t you?”

Your cheeks burn, ignoring the way your heart skipped a beat, helplessly exposed, scratching at your skin under his steady gaze. You hide it under rolled eyes and a coy smile, “That’s what friends do, isn’t it?”

Friends, just friends. Because that was all you were. That was why you cared.

And you don’t notice the corners of his lips falling or the dimmed amusement in his eyes, “Of course,” he sighs, “I’m fine, just long distance with Haley has been hard on both of us.”

You nod, not bothering to bring up your tension injected meeting in the hallway, “I understand, it’s tough doing long distance,”

And you see an unreadable look cross his expression, before it’s gone in a moment, and he just sighs, “Yeah.”

~~~

Things don’t get better.

When Haley isn’t here, Hotchner is constantly on the phone. And when she is, you could hear the faint sound of yelling through your all too thin walls, until you chose to put on headphones to drown out the noise.

You don’t want to hear his heart breaking anymore than he wants it broken.

He’s quiet in class, and snapping when he’s not. He comes out less. He declines your invites. He spends most of his time on the goddamn phone.

And it stings.

You stare at the wall you share, the apartment feeling wholly emptier than it did at the start of summer. You glare at it, a cross between huff and a sigh filling the silence for a moment. How did Hotchner weasel himself into so deeply in his life that you felt his absence?

Three years at this school, and you had barely made a friend. It was hard in large lecture halls and even small classrooms lined with people who were nothing like you. It was harder when you often left class right after. It was difficult to connect to people, it was difficult to get beyond small talk. But it was never difficult with Hotchner.

Not once.

You supposed that’s what made this so difficult. And there was nothing more to it than that — right? The question lingered in the back of your mind, an unspoken thought that did not wish to be punctuated with a question mark, but nevertheless was.

It was stupid. It was so stupid. You lay back on the couch, staring at the ceiling, pulling a cushion over your face — hoping it would be enough to drown out the “evidence” your mind presented as signs of his affection — it wasn’t.

He stayed with you that night. Like a friend would.

He always is looking at you, longer than necessary. You’re imagining it.

He was so gentle when you got cut. You were hurt, he was trying to help.

He told you about his dad and about his dreams. Again, a friend? He trusted you, but it doesn’t mean he has feelings.

He fell asleep with you on the couch. And then went back to sleep. You paused. That was one thing you couldn’t explain.

You were awake when he had woken up, you had felt him rouse because you had already awoken yourself, his name flying from your lips without a thought when you saw him, felt his solid presence, his head resting against yours. You panicked. So you pretended to be asleep, and you felt him awake, heard his pause, felt his touch, and then felt him settle back in beside you.

But you didn’t know why.

It was easy to explain things away, it was simple — but nothing was simple when it was him. Nothing was easy.

~~~

"No I'm sure, I don't want to go to the party tonight." you waved off Alex, who still followed you instead, her arms crossed.

“You shouldn’t be waiting for him to call,” you furrow your brow, as she jerks her head toward the wall you and Hotchner shared, “you need to move on.”

“I’m not waiting, I’m just tired, and unlike you, I haven’t had the entire summer off, and just came back after a fabulous vacation,” you cross your arms, lips pursed, but you know that she sees right through you, “just go, Alex. I’ll come to the next one I promise.”

She sighs dramatically, shaking her head, "I'll see you tomorrow." The door shuts behind you and you groan.

What the fuck were you doing?

Who were you kidding? You collapsed onto your couch, facefirst into the couch cushions. You knew what the fuck you were doing — the exact thing you promised to never do, you sighed loudly into the cushion, pulling a pillow over your head — canceling any plans in hopes a guy would call. A guy — a guy with a girlfriend who he was in love with, one who didn’t give you the time of day anymore, and one who was barely a friend now.

But still, he wasn’t just any guy was he? He was Aaron Hotchner.

And that was the fucking problem.

But right now, you turned your head to glance at the clock, your main problem was that you were still conscious, and that meant it was time to go to sleep. You looked to the wall you and Hotchner shared — you weren’t going anywhere tonight, that was for sure.

~~~

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

You groan, pulling the pillow over your ears, “This is a joke, right?” and again, you are stumbling out of bed, half asleep and half blind, eyes barely open, “who is it?” But a part of you knew the answer before you even asked.

“It’s me,” Hotchner intoned, and you opened the door, frown on your lips dropping when you saw his face — even in the dark, you could see the tell tale sign of tear tracks on his cheeks, barely glistening in the dim light, “can I come in?”

You step aside, shutting the door behind you, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, and he catches a glimpse of your hands crossed across your chest. He scrubs a hand down his face as he slumps down on your couch, “I just...broke up with Haley.”

The words echo in your ears, as you gape at him, blinking, “You...what?” you shake the shock from your mind. He needs you right now. He needs your support.

You slide next to him, “I’m so sorry, Hotchner, I—” the words die on your lips, as you see him stare at the floor, his gaze blank, “hey—” He finds your gaze, his eyes glassy but somehow still so steady, and your heart stutters in your chest, “It isn’t your fault.”

He gives a bitter chuckle, “How do you know that?”

“Because I know you,” you tuck one leg under the other, one hanging off the end of the couch, “and I know you wouldn’t hurt anyone, much less Haley, intentionally.”

His expression is inscrutable as his eyes fall to his lap, his teeth grazing his bottom lip, and he looks back to you, “Are you sure?”

And the question hangs in the air — words wrapped up in meaning, tucked away behind punctuation and subtext. And he’s looking at you — a look that you can’t pin down, but it makes your heart squeeze harder in your chest and your blood turns molten in your veins. Why is he looking at you like that? And why for so long? The way his eyes linger make you want to believe — makes your foolish heart want to believe — maybe, maybe there’s something more to his question, something he’s asking you without asking you. A question within a question, that only makes your head spin and butterflies bloom in your stomach.

“Of course I am,” a statement within a statement, tentative and as unsaid as his, but the words were on your tongue like an ice cube, rapidly melting away like your hope was that maybe — maybe this was something more. But the moment is broken when he looks away, and silence encroaches once again, strangling and consuming — you have to say something, anything to break it. More than that, you needed to do something — so you said the only thing that occurred to you, “Do you want to go to a party?”

~~~

You were surprised.

And you weren’t sure by what more — the fact Hotchner agreed to go to a party on a weekday or the fact he was two shots ahead of you now.

The party was in full swing by the time you arrived. The blaring music shook the fraternity house to the screws and joists holding the building together. The kitchen had been set up as one giant alcohol station — bottles of every kind of cheap alcohol lining the counters and shelves, much of which Hotchner was helping himself to.

He was pouring himself another shot, and another beer into a red cup, as you watched him, eyebrow raised.

“Pace yourself,” you tell him over the music, as he downs another, no chaser, the chaser long forgotten, but Haley seemingly wasn’t by the melancholy scrawled across his face, “have you eaten a single thing tonight?”

“Isn’t the point of college parties to drink?” his words are more than a little slurred, his usual crisp intonation down for the count, and his balance was barely existent at this point, swaying as he spoke.

“To drink, not to leave in a body bag,” you say, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder, and to your surprise he doesn’t brush it off — no, his hand rests over it, holding it there. His eyes flutter shut, as he leans against your hand and his, “You alright there?” your cheeks burn as his eyes open again, his gaze intense and steady, and you see something you hadn’t seen before — a look that you can’t decipher.

“Let’s go,” he says suddenly, his hand around your wrist now, dragging you through the kitchen and the throng of people in the house.

“Where are we going?” you call over the roar of the party, but you don’t know if he even hears you, his head still turned as he weaves through the crowd, and up the stairs, until he pulls you into an empty bedroom, the door shutting behind you. Moonlight streams in from the window beside the bed, what little light illuminating his figure in the inky black between the shutters, “Hotchner, what is—”

“I just wanted to say sorry,” he shakes his head, sitting on the bed, gaze dropped to his feet, “sorry for pushing you away. I didn’t mean to— I didn’t want to— I just—”

“It’s okay,” you find your way to his side, the creak of the bed beside him making him look to you, “It happens. You were going through something. I’m not mad—”

“You’re important to me,” he shakes his head again, insistently, “I shouldn’t have— I was a fucking ass, I just—”

“Hey, I know you’re a fucking ass,” and he scoffs, “who’s the bigger fool? The person who’s an ass or the person that’s friends with him?”

“I always knew you were a nerd, but Star Wars, really?” he grins, elbowing you, “you are full of surprises.”

“Takes a nerd to know a nerd,” and he leans back, palms splayed against the bed, “I am a person of many facets.”

“I know,” he whispers, finding your gaze in the dark, “And that’s what I love about you.”

You blink, your heart stuttering in your chest, “Hotchner—”

He leans forward, his fingers cupping your cheek, his eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes and back again. He’s so close, you can see his eyelashes flutter as he stares at you half-lidded, the heat from his body radiating off of him, as his chest nearly brushes yours now, “I’ve wanted— I want to kiss you,” he murmurs, his words sending warmth blooming across your cheeks — his scent consumes you — pine, musk, and mint, your breath stolen by his words — ferreted away in the night that covers you both.

“Please,” you whisper into the night, and when his lips brush yours, you wonder if it is real. Or a dream of your own design in the dark. But no, it’s real as the forehead that brushes yours after he parts a moment, “Aaron,” you sigh against him.

Your lips find his again, noses brushing, and he lingers this time — more sure, but still hesitant. Just as hesitant as you are. He’s sweet on your lips, sliding against yours softly, his thumb brushing at your cheek, before your fingers knot themselves in his hair, deepening the kiss. You want more, you need more. And you hear him moan against your lips, a deep rumble that sends a shiver up and down your body.

Then his tongue runs across your lips and you taste it — the alcohol on his lips, and you remember — Haley, the drinking, everything — it had been just to get over her.

And your palms press against his chest, stopping him, his quiet pants still warming your lips, “I can’t do this.”

You couldn’t be his rebound. Not after all of this. Not after what you felt for him, what you still felt for him. You didn’t want to be something he’d used to forget, something he’d want to forget. You couldn’t be his second choice. You deserved more. You wanted more.

But you also wanted him.

A moment passes, another, and he pulls back, “I understand,” he nods, “I’m sorry if—”

“Don’t be sorry, you didn’t—” you cut off, “I’m sorry if I—”

“You didn’t,” he rises slowly to his feet, rubbing at his eyes, “let’s go home?”

The walk home was in silence, which was somehow more eruciating than the two hour of constant, deafening music you had just endured. Your head throbbed, and whether it was from the alcohol, the music, or the night — you glanced at Hotchner — that was up for debate. Your nausea burned at your throat in time with your headache hitting a crescendo —- just not at this particular moment.

“Good night,” were the only words he managed when he dropped you at the door, stumbling into his own apartment. And you only realize as you slide into bed that you realize you didn’t explain why you couldn’t — why you couldn’t kiss him. But with your face pressed against the cool pillow, the memory of his lips on yours lingering, and the siren song of sleep, you couldn’t dwell on it.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the sandman’s embrace too tempting. There was always tomorrow.

~~~

Or maybe there wasn’t, you realized as you stepped out of your apartment, at least, not a tomorrow that included him. After pacing for an hour, convincing yourself to talk to him — to say something about last night — after you had re-lived that kiss a dozen times, after you practiced what you were going to say to him, and after you realized he was worth the risk.

But you weren’t to him.

But Haley was.

Her lips pressed against his, right where yours were last night, her bags dropped beside their feet. His arms winded easily around her waist, comfortable and familiar, pulling her somehow impossibly closer than she already was. Her fingers cupped his cheeks, evidence of tears gliding down her cheeks. He inhales her breath, as they part, murmuring things only the other can hear, until your door bangs against its frame, still helplessly open behind you.

Their eyes snap to you, and you have to tuck away the hurt and pain quickly — quickly, your lips somehow finding itself in a small smile, even as your heart splintered to pieces in your chest.

His mouth opens silently, eyes painfully wide a moment, while Haley greets you with a smile, your name from her mouth painful to your ears, “It’s so nice to see you again. Aaron told me he wouldn’t have been surviving class without you.”

Painful because you can’t hate her, painful because it isn’t her fault, painful because maybe in another life you could have been friends, painful because you had to fall for her boyfriend — “Of course,” you manage to find your voice, “someone has to keep their head on straight.”

And you had to.

“I keep mine on,” he withers under both of your gazes, “sometimes.” His eyes linger on you a moment too long, but Haley doesn’t seem to notice, instead, stepping over her bags, and pulling you aside a moment.

“I just wanted to apologize for how I acted before,” she shakes her head, “me and Aaron have been having a hard time lately, and I think I took it out on you — but we’re okay now. I just don’t want any bad feelings between each other because I know you’re a good friend to him.”

Friend, the word rings in your ears, “Of course,” friend, and you wonder if your ears are bleeding by now, “we’re good. Don’t worry about it.”

You find him unable to meet your eyes, his stare fixed on Haley instead.

Of course.

You were just friends after all.

~~~

You don’t see him much after that.

And you prefer it that way.

There was only one more class before the final, and you arrived late, slipping into the back of the lecture hall, tucked away — out of sight.

You left before it ended, sparing one last glance at Hotchner.

Out of mind.

The exam rolls around soon enough, the study period relatively short for summer courses, and you find yourself packing as you finish studying. But still, your mind drifts to him in between moments of taping up boxes and trying to remember the answers you scribbled on the back of flashcards. You would have been studying with him — he would have quizzed you while you boxed up your kitchen, he would have teased you for your barely legible chicken scratch, and he would have been here.

But he wasn’t. You folded the flaps of yet another box down, tape gun in hand, pressing it to the lip of the box.

Out of sight, the rip of tape across cardboard, But was he out of mind?

~~~

“You’re moving?” he catches you moving boxes out of your place, the van you rented outside, sticking his head out of his apartment, his brow furrowed.

“I am,” you continue down with your boxes, and he moves forward to help you, but you brush by him, heading down the stairs, “I got it, thanks.”

But he doesn’t let you go, “I thought you still had another year left—”

“I’m finishing a semester early,” you reply, opening up the trunk again to place the two boxes in the back, “and next semester I’m studying abroad. That’s why I did summer classes.”

“Studying abroad?” he blinks, “when—”

“I’m going home for two weeks, and then I’m flying to Switzerland,” the thump of the boxes is loud in his silence, as you slide them into place, “that day I wasn’t doing well— It was because I had gotten rejected from the program. My financial aid hadn’t pulled through,” you pull the trunk closed again, locking it, before brushing past him and trudging up the stairs again, “But last week, my financial aid office helped me to find a private lender. So I’m going.”

You hear the slow clunk of his shoes following you up, as you grab another two boxes, and you finally glance at him, finding his lips in a thin line twisted in something resembling a smile, “Congratulations, I’m really happy for you.”

“Thank you,” you nod, bite your lip — biting back the words burning on your tongue — hauling the last two boxes into your arms. You try to slip past him again, but he grabs a box from your hands.

“At least let me help you with this,” at least let me do this if not anything else — unspoken words lingered in the air, his fingers grazing yours as he took it, hefting it with relative ease.

“You know, I’m happy for you too,” you say when you slide the box into place, after unlocking the trunk again. His brows knit together, and it’s not from the strain of carrying your things down the stairs, “I mean it,” and his eyes meet your gaze — you see too many emotions to pull them apart — sadness, regret, worry — and a few you don’t care to pick apart. It doesn’t matter now, “for you and Haley, it’s great you worked it out. You’re good together.”

And you know it’s true. He’s happy, lighter than he had been for weeks, but now, his shoulders seem so heavy, weights pressed upon the corners of his lips and against his brow.

“We are,” he shakes his head, sighing, “I just wanted to say s—”

“We’re good,” you cut him off with a small smile, and you shut the van up, locking it. You turn back to him, only to find his lips pursed, glancing between you and the van, “I’m not leaving until tomorrow morning, so this isn’t goodbye. Can’t get rid of me that easily.”

He chuckles, “Intent on dragging this out?”

“I’ll never make it easy for you, Hotchner,” your hands slip into your pockets, walking back up to your apartment, adding, “but you’ll always have my respect and my friendship.”

“I know,” he says softly, over the low buzz of the hallway fluorescents, “you’ll always have mine too,” he frowns, looking at your door and his, a question on his lips.

“I should get to bed early,” you turn to unlock your door, “I’m leaving at 7 tomorrow.”

“Right,” he shakes his head, stepping back, before sparing one more smile, “I’ll let you get some sleep. I should too — you don’t mind if I say goodbye tomorrow right?”

You shake your head, “I expect it, bright and early,” and he rolls his eyes, “Good night Hotchner.”

“Good night,” he says your name, and even as you shut the door behind you, you love the way his mouth curls around your name — achingly and annoyingly perfect. And you remember what else he could do with those lips, how your name felt whispered against your own lips —

And you remember who those lips would be kissing for the foreseeable future — at home, at their engagement, at their wedding. You catch yourself, heart twisting unto itself, and you had almost forgotten that it was broken — for a moment.

And you know — you know then that you can’t say goodbye to him.

Not in person.

Because you wanted him still, despite it all. And wanting was enough — for a time. But now wanting only hurt because you were wanting what you would never get. You wanted him — but he was never yours to begin with, was he?

He wasn’t yours to lose — but you did.

And he would lose you too.

~~~

Aaron had woken up on time.

He woke up before his alarm went off, eyes fluttering open to sunlight streaming in his bedroom window. And he tossed off his sheets, rubbing at his eyes.

He couldn’t be sad — he was happy for you.

You were graduating, you were moving on, you were doing something you always wanted to do. He sat up, throwing his legs over the bed, pressing his fist to his lips, elbow digging into his thigh. He only wished he was brave enough to go after what he wanted.

What he wanted, his eyes drifted to the picture of Haley on his bedside table, did he even know what he wanted?

He slips out of bed, brewing two cups of coffee — knowing you would be on the road for quite a while. He still had some time before you were leaving.

He opens his apartment door, finding your apartment door open. The landlord pokes his head out, “Hey Hotchner, that doorknob treating you well?”

Aaron raises an eyebrow, “It’s fine, what are you doing?”

“Just going over to see what the damage is and if I’m going to be returning that security deposit or not,” he fussed over the clipboard in his hand, pulling the pencil from behind his ear, “looks like the apartment was in relatively good shape so guess I’ll be mailing a check.”

“Mailing?” Aaron blinks, and the landlord tilts his head.

“How else do you suppose I give something to a tenant who has already moved out and split?” In that moment, he brushes past him, peering into your empty apartment — the only things left were those of your roommate’s, “Left about an hour ago in a rush, couldn’t even wait for me to do my walkthrough.”

He was on time, he was early even, he stepped downstairs to only find the truck long gone.

But he was still too late.

Always too late.

~~~

But always wasn’t always forever.

“Hey, stranger,” you nestled the phone between your cheek and your shoulder, hands full with a bread dough you were currently trying to knead for its next proof, “it’s been a long time—”

“Did you hear?”

“Hear what, Alex?” her voice grows quiet on the phone, “what’s wrong?”

“You know how I’ve been organizing in preparation for the reunion in a few months?” and you lick your lips, moving to wash your hands.

“Yeah, you told me about that and said on uncertain terms could I refuse to attend, unless I’d like to risk certain bodily harm,” you shook your head, “I didn’t forget, so is that what—”

“It’s Haley, Haley Hotchner?”

You pause, “Yeah Hotchner’s gi— wife?”

“She died, just a week or two ago,” her voice falters, “I just heard about it from Paul, do you remember him? He was in your poli-sci class. He’s in the FBI too. I wanted to get Aaron’s information, and he told me it probably wasn’t a good time. And I pressed him and then….”

“Oh my god,” you rested your back to the counter, “How did she—”

“He didn’t get into details, but it was pretty fresh it seemed like. He’s still on leave, and the funeral is soon.”

Your hands shook, squeezing your eyes shut as your mind returned to that summer — his smile, his laugh, his touch, his care — “When is it?”

She says your name slowly, “Why?”

“I have to go,” you swallow the lump in your throat, “I have to go see him.”

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x oc #criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds fanfiction

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stonerfreed · 4 years ago

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below is my favorite analysis of stone ocean’s ending and the only thing that helped me understand exactly wtf happened. also this informs how i interpret ireneverse. [source]

“Part 6's Ending may be happier than you think. And how Made in Heaven works (Theory)“

FOREWORD:

Part 6's ending, with the death of the main characters, including Jotaro and Jolyne is a controversial ending to many. Whether you love it or disliked it, there's a consensus that it's overall pretty depressing or at best bittersweet.

Over the past few days I've thought about what exactly did happen at the end of Part 6, as after the battle at Cape Canaveral part 6 resolves fairly quickly and there are a lot more questions than answers. But I've gone over the ending a couple of times and I came up with a theory that may shed light on what exactly did happen, and how its not as sad of an ending as it may be. As I am fascinated by Made in Heaven as an ability and love to examine it. Of course this is my personal theory I backed up with evidence, but I'm not saying its the absolute truth but the way I look at it.

How Made in Heaven Works

Ok so first off we have to explain how Made in Heaven works. It's the stand created from C-Moon when some very specific conditions are met. The strange ritual that lead to the creation of Made in Heaven granted it, it's godly power of Time acceleration. Now we can assume that Pucci's perception of time can be made to fit his stand, its why he's able to keep up with the time speed up when no one else can, which is why it appears he is moving extremely quickly but really everyone else is moving slow to him while he is keeping up with the constant of time. It is important to note that living beings are not affected at all by Made in Heaven, only artificial and inorganic things are affected by the time speed up. All people from the original universe, end up in the next universe reset, they are not reborn in anyway, but merely transferred over. There isn't any evidence to suggest that they had changed in anyway but merely carried over. Of course this all culminates in his ultimate plan and ability, which was to reset the universe.

Enrico Pucci is obsessed with three things, DIO, Heaven, and Destiny. Let's not talk about DIO because it just serves for Pucci's determination, his real motivation is obtaining heaven. As a devout Catholic Priest, Pucci became enamored with the idea of "Heaven". That the end goal of all humans, as dictated in Christianity is to eventually ascend to Heaven with God. Through DIO, Pucci found that he could get to Heaven through the crazy ritual. While not the "Clouds and Angels" Heaven, it was the kind of Heaven that Pucci pictured as being "Heaven on Earth". And to Pucci, that meant Destiny being understood by humanity.

Destiny, is the third and arguably the most important of Pucci's obsessions, he is obsessed with the concept that there is a strand of fate controlling everything. That everything happens for a reason and everyone is where they are for a reason. Pucci believes that every enemy and obstacle he has faced was a trial for him to enter Heaven, and that any mishaps that happen to him is "bad luck", and that truly all things are predetermined. This coincides with his strong belief in God.

If you combine all three, you get Pucci's idea that creating Heaven on Earth is what's best for humanity, however his version of Heaven is that everyone understands their destiny. How does this happen? It does not happen because Pucci has some sort of ability to change history or warp reality in his new universe (The Pucciverse). It happens because knowing your destiny/precogntion is a result of Made in Heaven's time speed up. It is stated by Pucci that:

"Although the body and mind do not understand it, the spirit remembers everything! The spirit, through the speed up of time has remembered every possible event and every possible outcome!".

So, here Pucci revealed another part of Made in Heaven's ability, but it is less than ability but more so a side effect of speeding up time. Aforementioned, time speeding up from Made in Heaven does not affect living beings, but according to Pucci, it affects their spirit. Because due to time speed up, their soul was also speeding up, experiencing a million different scenarios and memorizing every detail of those events, subconsciously and unbeknownst to the person.

Then there is the other side of how Made in Heaven works: What happens if someone is killed by Pucci? According to the law of the universe, those killed by Made in Heaven do not transfer over to the next universe. This is because as mentioned before, the living transfer over harmlessly, while the dead, do not. This is an important part here: Pucci states that Jolyne and Jotaro aren't here because he killed them and even destroyed their souls. However: Pucci is only half right here. He later states something that contradicts his first statement slightly:

"All of my obstacles has been left behind in the previous universe!"

This, is very important to note here. Pucci states that he has killed them, which is true no matter what because he did kill them. What isn't true, is that he "destroyed" their souls.

Pucci's language here is dramatic, but only correct in terms of technicality. When he means "destroyed" he is only technically correct in that their souls do not exist in the first reset universe (referred to here on out as the Pucciverse). The reason their souls do not exist is not because he physically destroyed them, but because they were left behind in the old, original universe. As stated before: the dead do not transfer over. And therefore those that are dead stayed behind while the Pucciverse continued on without them. So in essence he is right, they aren't here in this universe so it is as if they had been destroyed, but they really haven't.

The Battle Between Emporio and Pucci

Then comes the next part of the ending of part 6 which is the battle between Emporio and Pucci. The theatrics of Emporio defeating Pucci aside, what is important here is what Pucci says about Made in Heaven. As Pucci is grounded, dying on the floor to oxygen purification he begs Emporio to let him live a little while longer. Here, Pucci makes a very interesting statement.

"If I die, the fate of mankind will be altered! It will probably be a different future! As long as it's after Cape Caneveral I will gladly give up my life! Or else it will mean that everything I've done up to now will be meaningless! Humanity will no longer be able to see their fate!"

Pucci once again reveals another aspect of Made in Heaven, but rather this time, it's flaw. Here we have to take into account where exactly Pucci stopped speeding up time. Judging by how Emporio woke up and saw "Jolyne's" first meeting with "Jotaro" in the prison, we can assume that time deaccelerated at this point in history, i.e at the "beginning of part 6". This is noteworthy because this means that Pucci had not fully completed a "loop". And by this, I mean the Pucciverse has not yet reached the time/point of original acceleration. It has not passed the moment time first began speeding up, and so technically the Pucciverse is "lagging behind" the original one.

Why is this important? It is because Pucci's work actually had not yet been completed. Pucci was incredibly concerned about staying alive until after Cape Canevral. If he's true to his word, then he may have let Emporio kill him afterwards because his death would have no affect on the universe. Why is this so? It seems because an unsaid flaw of Made in Heaven, is that if time does not pass the point of original acceleration in the new universe then it means that technically the old universe still exists, and that the new universe is only temporary until that point is reached. That Made in Heaven hasn't completely "overwritten" the previous universe because not all events in the previous universe had happened yet. If that was confusing let me try and break it down.

Made in Heaven speeds up time at Cape Canevral -> Results in Pucciverse

Pucciverse stops speeding up at the "Beginning of Part 6"

The original universe "ended" at the end of Cape Canevral = The Pucciverse is lagging behind the original universe.

Original Point of Acceleration = Cane Canevral

Pucciverse Start Point = Jolyne and Jotaro's Meeting at the Beginning of part 6.

Result: the Pucciverse is still lagging behind the original universe in time: Cape Canaveral had not yet happened, and so technically those events are still the events of the original universe, meaning the old universe still "exists" but is being overwritten by the Pucciverse. Because if the time that Cape Canaveral would have happened passes in the Pucciverse, then technically these would be "new events" that had not happened in the original universe. Therefore it would have by that point completely overwritten the previous universe and thus become permanent.

So that means that if Pucci were to die, his work would have been "meaningless" and the universe would have changed. Let's think about this for a second. If the Pucciverse is only possible because Made in Heaven sped up time, then it is not a stretch to say that the reason "why" Pucci is afraid that if he dies his universe will be changed is because he is actually holding it together. It is because of his stand ability that the Pucciverse is occurring in the first place. If he were to die before the old universe had been completely overwritten by the natural flow of time (or manipulation of the flow of time) then there would be nothing holding the Pucciverse together, and no reason for it to exist, and thus would collapse.

This much is understood by everyone, that upon Pucci's death his universe collapses. But where does it go from here? I think there's some evidence to see where exactly.

In Pucci's last moments he was speeding up time to fight Emporio. However, Pucci died before his universe had passed the events of Cape Canevral. From here we can know for sure two things.

His "Pucciverse" did not become permanent and collapsed.

A new universe was not created.

The second point may have some people scratching their heads, "But wait, what about the universe Irene is in? isn't that a new universe?". The answer is yes... and no.

The "Ireneverse"

How do we know a new universe was not created? Simple, because Pucci died before his new universe became permanent. That is, by passing the point of original time acceleration i.e Cape Canaveral. Understandably, in a room with nothing moving in it (I'm referring to Emporio's ghost room where the final battle took place) it’s difficult to see how fast time is moving as a result of Pucci speeding up time in said battle. But, we can know for sure that another singularity effect/universe reset did not take place. We know this because Pucci died before time even passed the point of acceleration. For a new universe to be created, it would have to reach the 'End of Time' and thus for sure have passed the original point of acceleration. So from here, it is evidence that Pucci didn't just reset the universe "again".

But hold on, right after Pucci's death we can see the effects of Emporio being pulled into a new universe again, just like what happened when the universe was reset the first time. We can know for sure that this isn't Pucci resetting the universe because he's dead. If he's dead then there is nothing to speed up time to create a new universe, and also because if it was him speeding up the universe, then it would not have collapsed for it would have passed the point of original acceleration.

So if it's not Pucci speeding up time to create a new universe, and the Pucciverse collapses because it had both not reached the point of original acceleration and Pucci's death, then where exactly does Emporio go?

He goes back to the original universe.

This is because the original universe had not been completely overwritten yet because the Pucciverse did not pass the point of original acceleration, so being that it had not been completely overwritten then technically it still exists in some form, and if the Pucciverse is collapsing, the universe only has one option and that is to go back to the status quo since it is the only intact universe available.

But there is more evidence for this. Emporio wakes up on a road on Green Dolphin Street. He sees a bus, but whats important to note here is that he doesn't know the bus is coming, he's surprised by the bus. This is significant because it shows he doesn't know the bus is coming, meaning that his spirit has not memorized these events because this is the original universe, the side effect of Pucci speeding up time has been erased.

There are two reasons for why Emporio no longer has precognition,

Pucci's death canceled any effects Made in Heaven had created, including its effects on the spirits of people to memorize events.

Pucci no longer exists, or is entirely different in this universe.

The second one needs some explaining. Because it is explained earlier that it is a cosmic law that those who are dead, do not transfer over to the next universe then there isn't any reason to believe that Pucci isn't under the same rule. Pucci died in his Pucciverse, and because of this he was left behind there while the universe moved once again. Now because the Pucciverse was entirely a result of Made in Heaven and since it is gone, then it’s likely that the Pucciverse too will be wiped from existence. Which means, that Pucci's death and his soul was left behind in an non-existent universe. Meaning that Pucci did not come to the new universe, and does not exist in any shape or form or was replaced by an entirely different counterpart.

"Counterparts"

The counterpart thing is important to explain, so let's dial back a bit and look at the meeting between "Jotaro" and "Jolyne" in the Pucciverse. It's clear there is a contrast here between the "people" who replaced Jotaro and Jolyne and their counterparts in the Ireneverse. When Jotaro and others were left behind in the old universe because they were killed by Made in Heaven, they were replaced by shallow imitations of them. We can know for sure that this isn't Jolyne and Jotaro because they look nothing like them, and that they are completely unaware of the universe reset. But, if you look at the guards and prisoners in a brief scene after Emporio arrives in the Pucciverse, they too are aware of the universe reset and just as shocked as Emporio. Which means they are from the original universe and simply transferred over.

But: the fake Jolyne and Jotaro are not aware of these events, exactly "who" they are is something there isn't a lot of evidence for. We do not know if they are real people, or if they are new souls/people created by the Pucciverse to fill the void that Jotaro and Jolyne left behind with their absence. The one thing we know for sure is that they definitely do not have the souls of Jotaro and Jolyne, as other than wearing similar clothes their souls were left behind in the old universe. And that while they have "similar" personalities, they are much shallower versions of the originals, you can discern this because they are acting as if they're supposed to be acting like Jolyne and Jotaro and you don't really get the feeling their actions and emotions are genuine. If they were complete copies of them, then Pucci would have been more concerned about a second coming of Jotaro and Jolyne to stop him.

So if Pucci's soul was also trapped in the Pucciverse, then he either does not exist in the next universe, or was replaced by someone very different.

Now let's bring it back to the counterparts of the Ireneverse and why the Ireneverse is the original universe. Without going back to explain again why the Ireneverse is actually the original universe based on just the flow of universes, there is more evidence for this.

Emporio sees counterparts of Hermes, Jolyne, Annasui and Weather Report in the new universe. However, let's compare his reaction to these counterparts to seeing the counterparts in the Pucciverse. In the Pucciverse, Emporio is at first surprised that Jolyne and Jotaro are here, but later calms down when he realizes that they are somewhat similar but they really aren't them. Yet when he sees the counterparts in the Ireneverse, he is overcome with emotion and breaks down into tears.

This difference and contrast is significant. Emporio's sudden crying reveals his bittersweet emotions on the situation, they are both tears of joy AND sadness. He is crying because his friends are not dead after all, but they just have no memories of him or the events that lead them to friendship. But, if these counterparts were like the counterparts in the Pucciverse, Emporio would not have cared too much and probably would not have gone with them because he knew that those weren't Jolyne and Jotaro. Yet here, he recognizes his friends, but of course he is still saddened that their memories are gone.

His reaction is also evidence that they aren't really "counterparts" in the way that the Pucciverse counterparts are counterparts. More so, there's evidence that they are actually the real deal. How so?

To examine that we have to look at everything mentioned beforehand and how it all culminates together.

We have evidence that this is the original universe because a new universe was not created by Pucci for time did not speed up to the point that it would have created a new universe.

This is not the Pucciverse because Pucci died and nobody knows their fates.

With the old universe still not completely overwritten by Made in Heaven, and the Pucciverse collapsing due to Made in Heaven's effects being erased, the universe had nowhere else to go and returned to it's original self.

The counterparts in the Pucciverse are new people and do not have the souls of Jolyne and Jotaro. They may wear similar clothing, but they look like nothing them and act shallower. We can assume they are like this because they do not have the souls of Jolyne and Jotaro because their souls were left behind in the previous universe.

So why is it then that these "counterparts" are so similar? Not just in appearance, but in personality as well?

It is because, as I mentioned they aren't counterparts but they are the real versions of the deceased. Jolyne IS Irene, Annakiss IS Annasui and so on and so forth. It's hard to deny that Irene is incredibly similar to Jolyne, the same personality, the famous Joestar birthmark and face albeit with longer hair and a more conservative outfit (Though it's revealed she wears the same default Jolyne outfit underneath her sweater). They are this way because they exist in the original universe, and thus the universe where their souls are. So essentially, these new "counterparts" are more like "reincarnations" and they actually contain the souls of the deceased.

But if they are reincarnations, why are they back and how?

Changed Lives

To answer that, we have to look at where the Ireneverse began and the results of Pucci not existing or being very different. So, when the Pucciverse resets back to the original universe, it’s not a stretch to say that it dropped off Emporio at the same time frame: what would have been the beginning of Part 6. This is technically before the events at Cape Canaveral and thus before their deaths. Which is evidence that technically because those events had not happened yet, they would come back to life as they had not died yet. But: this is only a half answer. It does not explain why their lives are so different.

Made in Heaven does not have the ability to change history, this is fact. However: it does have the ability to remove people from "existence" from a new universe upon death, merely as a consequence of the cosmic law of "The dead cannot cross over". Therefore Made in Heaven can indirectly change history by killing a person, so that their shallow counterpart will have a "different" history in the next universe. Pucci died before the events of Cape Canevral, at somewhere near the beginning of part 6.

So we can assume that Pucci was also affected by this law, and that in the Ireneverse Pucci may have been very different or did not exist. Because in the Ireneverse there is either no Pucci or Pucci was very different, he may have or may not have ever met DIO and if he did, his plans went very differently. From here, we can guess that whatever happened to Pucci post-death his actions did not turn out the same way. So for the context, let's assume that Pucci did not do any of his plans, so that results in: very different lives, we know a few things.

None of them are prisoners.

Jolyne is less "wild" and has a better relationship with her father.

Annasui is in a healthy relationship with Jolyne.

Hermes's sister is alive.

Weather Report is alive.

Therefore we can see the explanations for these are:

Without Pucci, no one was able to truly carry out DIO's legacy. If Jotaro's continuous absence from his family can be assumed to be Jotaro fighting either independent nefarious stand users, and or stand mercenaries/DIO followers hired by Pucci, then we can assume that since Jotaro had to fight less, he had to leave his family less. Which means:

He would have been able to be there for Jolyne, and give her the love she needed. Without the need for her father's attention, Jolyne had less outcries for attention such as criminal acts and such. With a more happy upbringing Jolyne never landed in prison, or got a shitty boyfriend like Romeo.

Because Jolyne never went to Prison, it's possible that she may have met Annasui before he murdered his girlfriend and started a healthy relationship. Meaning that Annasui also never had to go to prison.

Hermes's different life is a stretch, but essentially she went to prison to avenge her sister who was killed by Sports Maxx. However, Sports Maxx AFAIK only entered Pucci's service in Prison and came there independently of him. But: it is not too far of a stretch that Pucci set up events that lead Sports Maxx coming to prison. After all, Pucci stated that Spots Maxx was the only person capable of using DIO's Bone to create the requirements of the Green Baby. So it’s possible here that Pucci set up Sports Maxx to kill Hermes's sister to go to prison. If this is the case, then without Pucci's involvement then Sports Maxx would never had ran into Hermes's sister, and thus she would still be alive and Hermes would have no reason to go to prison.

Weather Report never had his memories taken away because he either never found out that he was dating his sister, or eventually he found out and was able to break it off on his own terms without the chaos that Pucci brought by bringing in the KKK. Either way, his relationship with his sister never lead to him coming to prison. (Sidenote: Weather Report was actually killed by Whitesnake instead of Made in Heaven, but because Whitesnake became C-Moon which became Made in Heaven we can assume it all counts all the same).

So both the time for their deaths had not occurred yet, and also because the main cause of their deaths (Pucci) did not act the same way, history changed for them as their lives were lived very differently and thus did not lead to their deaths.

Conclusion

In summary, at the end of part 6, Emporio returns to the original universe because the Pucciverse collapsed. The Pucciverse did not create a new universe because Pucci did not speed up time to create a new one. The Ireneverse that Emporio lands in is actually the original universe with a minor alteration of what if Pucci was very different, or did not exist. Because of this, he did not influence the events that resulted in Part 6 and lead to the main crew's deaths, he also ended up giving the the main characters a much better life because of his lack of influence. The Ireneverse counterparts are actually reincarnations, they have the souls of the deceased as the Ireneverse is the original universe and time had been rewinded to the beginning of part 6, and without Pucci's existence, they technically are not "fated" to die in the way they died in part 6.

So yes, Emporio is with the originals in the end, but they lived different lives. But their souls weren't destroyed, and in the end they lived happier lives. Although it is still bittersweet, because main characters that Emporio knew are gone because their memories are gone.

Sidenotes:

What happened to everyone else?

Made in Heaven has no ability to effect history or change people. It can only do this indirectly if it kills someone in the previous universe and their counterparts in the new universe change history. But it is stated that everyone crosses over unchanged. It is emphasized that even as something as insignificant as an ant makes it over to the new universe unchanged at all and merely "carried" over. So the events of Part 1-5, and all of it's characters still happened and those who lived, lived, and experienced the universe reset and time speed ups the same as Emporio did. Which is noteworthy because Emporio made it over to the new universe unchanged and with memories of previous events so regardless of the Ireneverse, it can be assumed that everyone else was pretty much the same.

The only curious thing is if Jotaro was "reincarnated" as well, we can assume that his life was entirely the same up to Part 6 but without the interference of Pucci so he was able to be closer with his family. Jotaro may or may not have a new name because the new Hermes never stated if her name was any different. Either way, the only thing that probably changed about him was his name. And his caring for Jolyne. However, in the case that my theory is true then Jotaro and Jolyne probably did not experience a divorce yet their wife/mother did, so its a toss up of what exactly might've happened.

The bittersweetness of their deaths:

The bittersweetness comes into effect when remembering the death of F.F. Jolyne begs her to wait as Jolyne will get her memory/stand disc back from Pucci but F.F says that while it will be "F'F. it won't be the F.F they know because it doesn't have the memories or experiences that the original F.F did. This is actually clever foreshadowing by Araki, as the same thing happens to the main crew at the end of Part 6. Emporio is saddened because while it is definitely the main characters, their lack of experiences and memories means that the friends he knew, shaped by bonding and experiences together, are essentially "dead". If you managed to read all the way down here, then thanks for taking the time to read a fan's madness lol.

Edit: Feb 2017: Araki recently commented on the ending of Stone Ocean, and he used "Irene" and "Jolyne" interchangeably. Which pretty much confirms that Jolyne did indeed become Irene and she's not another person entirely.

Follow-up comment [source]

Imagine the events of Part 6 being the plot of a VHS movie that you're watching for the first time. You love the characters and story and almost feel like you're a part of it! The scary parts are truly scary, because you don't know what's around the corner. But because of that, aren't all the happy times a bit melancholy? After all, you can't know what's going to happen next in the movie. At least, that's what Pucci thinks.

Pucci thinks it'd be nicer if we'd already seen the movie, so that we know what's going to happen. That way, we won't be scared when things turn bad, and we can be safely happy knowing what's coming. So what he'd like to do is rewind the VHS tape once the movie's over (because that's what you do with VHS), and watch it all over, knowing what will happen in advance. This is when he would activate Made in Heaven. He wants to tape over the parts of the movie that would prevent him from being able to do this (in this case, Jolyne and company). But in order to do so, he has to play through the full movie in normal time to properly edit them out, until he reaches the end.

So, at the end of the film, Pucci edits out the limiting factors (killing Jolyne etc) and fast forwards through the ending reel and credits all the way to the end of the tape (being the end of the universe). He makes his own cut of the film without those pesky elements, but with everything else intact, and adds himself in. Then he rewinds the tape, and fast forwards through all the ads and commercials before the movie begins (creation of the universe all the way through parts 1-5). Now he's reached the beginning of the movie (where Jolyne meets Jotaro). His new cut of the film has started rolling, and needs to roll through to the ending at normal speed. But somebody's lit Pucci's new cut on fire, and burned it to a crisp (Emporio killing Pucci). With nothing to edit over with, the movie goes back to playing the way it did before. Unfortunately, Pucci already cut out himself, and the Jolyne and Jotaro characters from the tape reel, so there's a big blank where they should be. The movie still has to continue on, so we fill in the blanks based on what we know of the characters from the first five movies, creating the characters of Irene and Annakiss etc.

#long as hell /#but a great read especially if youre dumb like me #ooc.#jjba spoilers #stone ocean spoilers #◜˚ 🕸 ╰ analysis .

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ebthecelebrity · 3 years ago

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I’m building a church ya’ll....

I recently read online that building a church can take from one to four years. The process consists of solidifying a committee, setting a budget, choosing a piece of land, hiring a designer or building company, and understanding building and zoning codes. Once these five steps are accomplished, it’s time to move in and start your praise and worship. These past few weeks, I have been feeling very different; like I am transitioning. I have silenced the distractions to listen to God and today he told me to build my church. Yes, build my church…. well not literally.

Today I was off work and as much personal errands I have to run; I sit down and watch a church sermon on YouTube. If you need a church home, please check out Transformation Church. This church is steadily transforming my life, since I started faithfully watching during the pandemic. It starts off casually, with me eating some ice cream and watching Pastor Michael Todd. Then within a few minutes in, the Holy Ghost hit me in my living room. I break out in a praise and the tears just start rolling down my cheeks. It is a much-needed loud cry. Feels like it’s from deep within my soul of whatever pain I have been holding onto. God will do you like that! He truly catches you slipping and before you know it, you’re running and screaming in your home like the Exorcist. I stand up and raise my hands because God was deserving of the praise. Everything that I had been silently enduring, God tells me “It’s over. Start building your church.” Being obedient, I start researching how to build a church and this analogy came to mind.

The first step in the construction of your church is solidifying a building committee. This is the group of people who will help your vision come to life. They assist you with decision making, and the budget. Also, let’s face it...building a church can be stressful, this congregation helps you with your mental health. When you think about your tribe, your circle, your true family…. this is them! Who are the people in your life at this very moment, that will be a part of your building committee? Who is dependable, good spirited, honest, and loyal? I have so many “friends” but not all of them fit this description. I am so loyal that if I know a person from the 2nd grade, I’m still referring them as my “friend.” Not everyone deserves this title. It’s important to know that if you follow God’s purpose, not every soul he has placed in your life deserves to go with you while you are in construction mode. This distinction will save you future heartbreak, confusion, and time. I’ve started assessing who I follow on social media, phone numbers I am keeping, and calls I am answering. Your building committee must hold you accountable and also support you for the rest of your life. Who is your congregation?

The next step is to set your budget. What are some of your short-term goals? Do you have the cash readily available to make it happen now? If you don’t have it, how are you going to get it? Budgeting is key. When I sit back and think about the goals I have in place for the next year, I want to be able to set myself up for success and be ready. Setting a short-term goal is just as important, if not more, than a long term one. There is so much emphasis on long term planning, but what we really are ignoring is the fact that tomorrow is not even promised. I start to think about the Amazon, Door Dash, and alcohol I’ve purchased this pandemic and none of that contributes to my short-term goals. If you budget your church construction today, you won’t come across any hiccups when it’s time to start building. Write down 5 short term goals and work towards them NOW. Whether these goals will cost you $200 or $20,000, time is of the essence. Stop wasting time, get your church off the ground.

Choosing your land is a very important piece of a church construction project. The land represents your temple. How is your health? When I ask myself this, I get a little emotional. I am not unhealthy, but I have definitely neglected my body for a long time. I can feel it after a late-night alcohol binge. I can see it when I look at the mirror. Your land will dictate the design for your church. When you start building, you want your land to be in perfect shape to be able to hold a stable structure. When you allow others to use your temple casually, your land is less desirable. The way society praises casual sex and junk food has really disrupted the mindset of how important it is to keep your land beautiful. Getting adequate exercise, practicing good health habits, eating a balanced diet, self-care for mental health and having a healthy sexual relationship are all a part of what can affect the value of your lot and your ability to BUILD. How is your lot right now? What is your value?

The blueprint of your church is the outline of your life. It’s your plan that will eventually lead you to your purpose. I had been struggling with my purpose for years and I finally realized it during the pandemic at the age of 37. When the world closed down, it allowed me the opportunity to get still and focus on what God called me to do here on this earthly journey. Carefully designing your church takes prayer, concentration, and also the help of your congregation. You hire yourself as the designer and building company because ultimately, YOU are in control of YOUR life. Have you ever rode by a beautiful and breathtaking church and thought to yourself, “Wow! I would love to see how it looks inside”? That is the same effect that your God driven purpose is to have on others around you. Design your church to be attractive, where every person you encounter leaves inspired and motivated. Let your presence be felt beyond your years, leaving a legacy. You know when the Pastor of a church passes away and the ministry continues? Well, that happens the same way when you design your church in the way that God made fit. Do you have your blueprint ready?

Last but certainly not least, understanding the building and zoning codes are a must! The tedious paperwork has to be done in life in order to do right by your congregation. Navigating through life takes adulting and this is where your t’s are crossed and your I’s are dotted. Do you have life insurance? Do you have a will in place? If you have a child(ren), there is no excuse for you not to have these in place. Let’s face it, we all have an appointment with our maker, so please have your church in order when it’s your time. Understanding that with leveling up, there comes responsibility. I recently drafted my will last year with an attorney and it was such a relief to get that out of the way. I put everything down from my medical demands to my funeral arrangements. There is no confusion. Just like your church home, navigating the laws and paperwork is crucial. Make it a necessity to have these things in order, as times a wasting.

So, I’m building a church right now. If I am unavailable, distant, or short with you please don’t take it personal. As I mentioned this process may take one to four years to complete. I suggest that you start building yours too. For church is not for the perfect human being, it’s for the imperfect one who needs structure and guidance every day.

#church #growth #selflove #congregation #godlovesyou #construction #blackauthors #blackbloggers #newblogpost

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nightshade-minho · 4 years ago

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3021:Starless

-(2)-

Warnings: mentions of knives, mentions of prostitutes, shirtless Hyunjin, mentions of family death, violence etc.

Word Count: 3.3k

Minho sighed as he walked home, his hands in his pockets...all his thoughts were filled with you.

He'd followed you secretly, knowing you were too stubborn to let him walk with you and make sure you were safe. He'd watched from an alley as you reached the workshop, greeted by a boy around your age that he couldn't quite recognize. Could it be possible that he was your boyfriend?

Jealousy rose up in him as he shook his head, not wanting to think about it. One of these days, he'd have the courage to ask you out.

He wondered if you liked him. You didn't really know much about him, but your interactions with him, though filled with sarcasm and plenty of comebacks, told him you didn't hate his presence. He had a feeling you were just acting tough, pretending like he was nothing but a nuisance to you- especially because he saw the way your cheeks would slightly heat up whenever he flirted with you.

He first met you at the coffee shop you worked at, almost a year ago. It was one of the few cafés in this part of town, and hence it was always packed. You'd caught his eye immediately and he was smitten at first glance. He found himself to be a regular at the café ever since. He'd be lying if he said the coffee was the reason he stuck around.

Minho stopped walking for a second, his human leg aching. He balanced his weight on his bionic foot as he rested for a second. He had a long way to travel, considering his house was located closer to the city. Walking back and forth so often was tiring, sometimes.

He went back to thinking of you. Your smile, your hair...the way you walked, and the way you always knew just what to say. He tried to keep the lovesick smile at bay, but was clearly unsuccessful, if his reflection in the car window opposite him was any indication. Straightening up a little, he started walking again, reliving all his interactions with you in his head.

He reached home sooner than he thought.

Walking up the driveway, he nodded at the guards, who gave him a nod before opening up the gates. They never asked him what he was doing out so late, and he appreciated them for it.

Minho sneaked around the back of the mansion, sighing as he prepared himself to scale the tree right next to his bedroom window.

Carefully, he climbed the tree as discreetly as he could, stepping into his room with a light thud.

Looking around, he closed the window, dusting off his shirt- but when he turned around, his father was standing right there.

Minho yelped, stumbling backwards a little. "What the fuck-" Was this karma or something?

"Language, young man. Now, what were you doing out so late?"

"Nothing! I needed to um...shop for parts."

"What? Why would you do that when you could order any prostheses you want from the comfort of your own home?" The man's eyes narrowed as his eyes roved over the dust clinging to Minho's clothes.

"Why are you dressed like that? Did you..." He gasped, trailing off. "You went to that side of town, didn't you?"

"What? Dad, no, I-"

"Don't lie to me." He glared, pinching his forehead. "I don't want to know what you were doing there. You're an adult, if you want to see hookers, I don't mind. But we have a reputation to uphold. You do realize I can acquire you a sex android if you really-"

"What the fuck, Dad?! Just-" Minho's horrified expression grew as he fully absorbed his father's words. "That's not what I was doing. I was-"

He put up a finger, silencing him. "You don't have to explain yourself. Just tell your assistant what you need." He exhaled, turning around and leaving the room.

Minho watched him leave, his head boiling with anger. He was thankful he didn't ask any more questions- it was revolting the way his father thought the rural areas offered nothing more than strip clubs, but at least it saved his ass this time. He couldn't come up with any excuses.

He got rid of his clothes, throwing them on the floor in frustration. After all, there was a maid to clean it all up. So, who gave a shit if he messed up his whole room? His whole life, he'd be waited on. He was 22 years old, and yet he still lived in his father's house. Granted, he did have an entire floor to himself...it still felt pathetic, though. Life wasn't going the way he wanted it to.

Being the Viceroy's son had its perks. But he'd always known there was more to life. Minho had most everything he ever wanted...except freedom.

He took the cable beside his bed and plugged himself in, adjusting the overnight power settings. He got into his bed, turning around and sighing as he hugged his pillow, imagining it was you. He allowed himself to smile, letting the image of you drive out the negative energy his dad had left behind.

Soon, he felt sleep take over his senses.

"Is he awake?" Jisung asked, holding a glass of water as he came back into the room through the curtain that separated his home from the workshop.

"No...not yet." You tilted your head as you looked at the man that was sprawled out on the reclining chair you'd sat on not long ago. He had the same troubled expression on his face from before.

"Y/n, we have to contact the palace."

You frowned, eyes still fixed on the man in front of you- the legendary H88, The Royal Android. You flexed your arms, still aching from helping Jisung carry the android home.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Jisung. He seemed distressed, and shouldn't he already be at the palace by now, at least, according to the news? Something's off. I don't want us to be connected to something so convoluted, at least not before tomorrow's trials. Maybe after that, we can decide what to do."

Jisung sighed, going over to the android's side and lifting his hair out of the way. "Low charge." He plugged the android in, turning to you. "If anyone finds out we're hiding the Royal Android...you do realize we could be put in jail, right? Besides, maybe turning it in would put you in their good graces. You'd get your Phantom license in a snap."

"Ha. We both know that's not what would happen. They like to twist stories...make them work in their favor. I feel like they'd just find a way to put all the blame on us-"

"Not this again..."

It was no secret that you weren't the biggest fan of the Royal family. In a world as advanced as yours, monarchies weren't that common. Xale was one of the three countries in the world that still had a royal family.

The King had rushed into countless scandals ever since he ascended the throne, most of which were hastily covered up.

However, his reach didn't extend all the way to the poorer areas of Neos. Out here, there were people who knew. And you were one of them.

Whenever you talked about it though, Jisung was always quick to shut you up. He chalked it all up to controversies. However, you knew deep down he was aware of it all, too. He was just too scared to admit it. And why wouldn't he be? King Bang was almost a dictator, his opinions and decisions bordering on terrible. Monitorship, curfews, laws...all of it was designed to make it impossible for the have-nots to survive. The richer citizens of Neos lived oblivious to it all, unfortunately.

His son was to take the throne soon. You'd heard that he was a lot more lenient and good-hearted than his father...but you knew as long as the King was alive, he would have his influence over his son and the way he ruled...and thus, over the country.

"Y/n! He's awake..."

You snapped out of your thoughts at Jisung's shaky voice, eyes widening as you saw the android in front of you blink, eyes open as he assessed the two of you.

There was silence for a while as the three of you glanced at each other, wondering who would speak first. A few seconds later, Jisung broke the silence.

"Are you okay?"

The android turned to look at him, eyes narrowing a little. "Do you know who I am?"

"H88."

"Hyunjin. That's my name." He snarled. "And good, so you do know. Why would you ask such a question then? I'm clearly not okay. I'm supposed to be living in the Palace. But I'm not. Do you want to know why?"

Jisung raised an eyebrow at his angry tone. "Why?"

"Because I escaped." He muttered under his breath.

You opened your mouth, slightly confused and ready to ask another question, but Jisung grabbed your wrist and pulled you aside a little.

"We can't do this, Y/n. We should return him as soon as we can. This isn't just any android- it's The Royal Android, and it's been dominating the news for the last few months. Hiding him is obviously not going to be fucking easy."

"I know, but...I've just got a gut feeling about this."

"This isn't the time to rely on intuition! We could get seriously-"

"I'm right here, you know. I can hear everything." The android mumbled. The two of you turned to look at him. He glanced between you both and let out a long sigh, lip trembling.

"Please...just don't take me back to the P-palace. I'm begging you." He said, his voice glitching again.

Jisung frowned, opening his mouth. You interrupted him before he could say anything.

"Why are you scared of the Palace? Why don't you want to go there?" You probed gently, as you sat back down in front of him, not wanting to overwhelm him.

He pressed his lips together, looking conflicted. "It's...It's a long story. I can tell you later, when I feel more up to it." He sighed. "I'm not asking you to hide me forever...just for a few weeks, maybe? Until I figure out what to do."

Jisung held a hand up, his expression incredulous. "Hold up, dude, we can’t just do something like this without thinking. Don't you understand the risk this poses for us? And for you?"

"I know...but I have information. Very sensitive information. I'll answer all your questions and tell you what I know..." he looks at you meaningfully, as if he knew this would catch your attention. "As long as you hide me for a little while."

You narrowed your eyes at his words. Information. He had information, presumably against the royal family. This interested you considerably.

"Fine. You can stay."

He smiled widely. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as he did so. You'd never met an android so advanced, an android so breathtakingly beautiful.

Jisung cleared his throat, making you look at him. "This is such a bad idea, on so many levels. First off, he can't stay here- there are regular check-ins."

"Yeah I know. Hmm...he could always stay at my apartment."

Jisung looked up at you, cheeks turning red a little. "Um, is that a good idea? Isn't your apartment...small..."

"It's alright! It'll fit two people fine." You glanced at Hyunjin. "Besides, I don't think he gets to be picky."

"I'm okay with it. I just want to be safe."

Jisung felt his heart slowly sink as you and the android shared a grin, both extremely satisfied with their ends of the deal. Meanwhile, Jisung didn't have anything to gain...except the realization that for the next few weeks, you'd be living in close quarters with this Adonis of an android.

Why did he have to have such rotten luck?

Hyunjin took off the hood of his cloak as you finally opened the door to the apartment, running a hand through his hair as he immediately went over to crash on the couch.

You stared at him pointedly as you removed your own cloak. "Do you want anything to eat?"

"Androids don't get hungry." He yawned, stretching.

"But they do get tired?" You raised an eyebrow as he blinked at you sleepily, not answering you. You rolled your eyes.

"Don't ask me. I didn't invent them." He said finally. "Is there something wrong with my sensors or is it hot as balls in here?" He swore, grabbing his shirt and pulling it off, discarding it on the floor as he leaned back once more. "Much better."

Maybe for him. You stood there, a little shocked and unable to tear your eyes away from his bare chest.

"Like what you see, hm?" He winked, yawning again. "Come on." He patted the spot next to him. "I'll tell you everything you need to know. I promised, remember?"

"Right..." you hesitantly walked over to sit next to him, focusing on his eyes that were backlit with blue.

"Go ahead. Ask me whatever you want to."

"Okay." You thought for a bit, sifting through all the questions in your head as you finally settled on one. "How did you escape the Palace? It's so heavily guarded."

"I haven't been to the Palace yet, actually. I escaped on my way there. I was being transported from Dr Isamu's mansion, but I panicked in the car. So I killed the driver and then left."

"You- you killed someone-"

"Yes. Move on, it's no big deal." He rolled his eyes. "I got a little scratched up in the fight, though. He was a very bulky man."

You nodded. The faded scars on his arms were apparent.

"Anyway, I stumbled through the streets and somehow found myself in the subway- I don't even know how I got there. I don't remember much. I knew I was close to shutting down. Then I saw you two, and then....well, you know."

You sighed and leaned back against the couch, trying to make sense of what you had just rushed into.

"You committed a murder. The cops are going to investigate- both the murder and your disappearance. The fact that you're royal property makes it even less likely for you to stay here long without being caught. And when you do, I'll go down as well." You groaned. Was this a bad idea, after all?

"Yeah, I know. But you're just going to have to trust me. I know...things. Most of them, I overheard when I was in Isamu's lab. I know your parents were rebels, Y/n. This information will be valuable to you."

You frowned. "How do you know that?"

"My scanning system is advanced. I have the details of nearly every Neos citizen embedded in me. Your file says you're an orphan, that you work in a coffee shop despite having a well above average IQ. Your parents were the leaders of the 3012 rebellion, and were executed. Till you were 18, you were raised by the owner of the workshop down the street, whose son I just met. Not a fan of him, by the way. Want me to keep going?"

"Wow. So you do know everything." You pressed your lips together. "Well, you're right...what you know is valuable to me." You played with your fingers as the memories from that day replayed in your head, your chest tightening. You remembered the pain you'd felt as you saw your parents die right in front of you, mercilessly humiliated and tortured in front of the hundreds that had gathered to watch. It was a terrible thing for a 10 year old to have to witness.

You also remembered how Mr Han brought you back to his house that day, raising you as his own alongside Jisung. He'd always been kind to you, caring for you and educating you. Despite losing your family at the age of 10, you found yourself still loved. And now...you were on the verge of losing him as well.

"...All I've ever wanted to do is finish what they started. I...want revenge. Don't get me wrong, I do want this country to be free as well. We would all be so much better off without the King. But I know a small part of me wants to do this for them." You sighed. "It's always just been a fantasy, though." Until you came into my life today.

His gaze softened as he watched you blink back tears. Hesitantly, Hyunjin moved a little closer, putting a hand on your back and patting you once.

You'd always tried to be strong, tried to not let your emotions get the better of you. As much as you loved Jisung, and maybe even Minho...you always tried to keep your tough exterior intact in front of them, as best as you could.

Yet here was this guy, someone you'd never seen the face of until today, other than on the front page of all the news articles. And despite barely knowing him, you felt something connecting the two of you. Something you couldn't quite explain.

He stroked your hair as you gave up, dropping your walls in front of this complete stranger.

You let him pull you in, holding you as you cried, letting out emotions that had been pent up for years. Hyunjin didn't pry. He stayed silent, letting you cry into his chest.

It felt a little pitiful, but you couldn't care less at this point. It was difficult pretending to be strong when you knew you were anything but.

"Your parents...were great people, Y/n. They inspired a lot of people. Their efforts weren't useless, and I know yours won't be, either."

"Wait...what are you suggesting?" You sniffed, looking up at him with a confused expression.

"That you finish what they started. It'll be tricky...but we can do it. You let me stay here, and in exchange I'll help." He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

"For now, just cry it out all out. I'll tell you everything I know tomorrow, and we'll discuss after your trials. You're signing up to be a Phantom, correct?"

"Um, yeah." You said, wiping your cheek, feeling a familiar fire burn in your chest. Could you believe him? It sounded too good to be true. The idea of renewing the revolution your parents had ignited all those years ago...bringing the country together in the name of justice...it was a little far-fetched, but an idea that sparked excitement in you.

"Good. That'd be helpful, actually. We need an in, after all. Now...you need to rest, if you want to succeed tomorrow."

You sighed, nodding. Hyunjin smiled at you and pulled you into him again, adjusting himself in a more comfortable position. He hummed under his breath, and you blinked sleepily. His skin was so soft, his voice so calming...

You felt drowsy the more he sang, eyes closing.

Hyunjin continued petting your head. He closed his own eyes, flashes of what had happened to him over the past few months shooting across him, making him shiver. He would do anything to avoid going back there...including lie.

He hoped what he knew would be enough for you to get what you wanted, but deep down he knew he needed more...hopefully you wouldn't be too angry when you realized he knew less than what he'd made it seem like.

Another rebellion. It would take some time, but from what he'd seen, you were resourceful enough to make it happen. And even though his knowledge was limited, he hoped he'd be able to find out more for you. Hyunjin knew he was equipped with millions of special talents - a lot of which he himself hadn't explored yet. He'd be a powerful ally.

He trusted you, and he hoped you did too.

(None of the art used in this series belongs to me. Credit to the respective owners.)

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thepringlesofblood · 3 years ago

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why the ending of hades (the game) kind of makes sense

spoilers obvs

so. if you’re me, and you played 45 minutes of hades before going ‘oh, i am simply not skilled enough and not available enough to beat this game’ and looked up the ending and watched it, you may have been a Little Confused

i have the explanation under the cut bc I talk too much and also obvs mega spoilers

like, if its been such a concern for so long that olympus finds out about Everything and starts a war, why the fuck would just inviting them to a party wrap things up nicely?

and you would be right. it’s a little anticlimactic, and that’s fine - the credits roll when they’re still traveling down the river, and for me at least that works as the ending to the game - nice and ambiguous and hopeful.

the rest is “epilogue” and as an epilogue it works pretty well. it is a lil bit of a letdown in terms of narrative tension. but that’s also just sort of how epilogues work (at least in stories with happy/comedic endings). the conflict is resolved and you’re in fluff town for the most part learning how everything shakes out for the characters.

but if you’re just thinking “the plot mechanics of this make no sense, if the threat of olympians finding out was serious enough to justify killing your son a bajillion times then why does this one party settle everything?”

allow me to introduce you to a very important aspect of Ancient Greek culture

xenia - hospitality

the laws of hospitality in Ancient Greece were a BIG DEAL. like, if some guy came in off the street like “hi i am a weary traveler in search of a good meal’” you had to go through this whole process of offering food and water for (hand-washing) and wine and everything or you’d be considered a bad host. likewise, just hanging around someone’s house for days on end would make you a bad guest. read the odyssey if you want some fun examples - odysseus just crashes at ppls houses.

and i cannot express how much you do NOT fuck with these rules. it’s not like fae levels of fuckery, but it was socially and morally unacceptable to be a bad host/guest - it’d be like someone cheated on their spouse.

in actual ancient greece, its bc the popular religious belief dictates that you never know when a god is going to come down in mortal form to test you on being a good host. but it was also bc travel SUCKED back then, so it was just a general system that if a guy crashes on your doorstep, you help em out. and bc everyone was subject to the general Travel Suckage, you never know when that guy could be some king from a distant land who will be in your debt for helping him

now why is my classics major ass going off about these rules of hospitality?

because they also apply for parties

feasts, symposiums, generally whenever you have a guest, xenia is in play.

the reason why persephone is a fucking genius is because she is making sure that this huge, world-threatening news is dropped on the olympians in a space where everyone present is under this very serious set of social rules.

if all of the olympians are invited guests of the underworld, the social ramifications of taking any hostile actions against their hosts? astronomical. especially considering how ludicrously powerful all of these beings are. im talking your reputation TRASHED for at least like a century.

and by acting as good hosts, hades, persephone, and zagreus have all boosted their reputations significantly, making it even harder to justify hostile actions against them.

now, obvs in the context of the game i’m sure the exhaustive rules of ancient greek hospitality are not made clear, so idk how much this adds to the experience of the game

i just thought it was really cool

#hades #hades spoilers #me being a nerd about ancient greece #and a terrible gamer

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itsclydebitches · 5 years ago

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One of the worst parts of the entire Volume 7 clusterfuck is that by not saying any of the truth about Salem team RWBY has actively helped Salem more than any other person or group in the entirety of the show through a single action and even with the Ace Ops and Ironwood "turning" on them there really is no acknowledgement of the sheer horror that should be had at what they did. They chose to let an entire nation of people blindly march off to their deaths and they have the moral high ground?

It really does confuse me. So many people are insisting that Ironwood is the one causing division because:

He's taking resources from Mantle... to build a means of uniting the whole world, an action that he believes will eliminate the Salem problem completely.

He refuses to work with Robyn... even though he doesn't refuse, merely points out that they both need to find common ground for an alliance to work, while she's the one proving that he was right to mistrust her (stealing supplies, spying on his projects, trying to use her semblance in front of Jacques, immediately abandoning Ironwood the moment he makes a decision she doesn't like).

He arrests Team RWBY... because they made it clear they wouldn't support him first. They're the ones who broke this alliance, telling him in no uncertain terms that if he didn't do things their way they would stand against him. More importantly, they broke that alliance weeks ago by lying to him and keeping secrets right at the start. If RWBYJNR doesn’t trust Ozpin because of those lies why in the world would they expect Ironwood to trust them? Throw in Blake and Yang betraying him again and it’s clear that they were never willing to work with him. They’re only willing to use him as a resource that follows their orders, free of compromise.

The only thing Ironwood has done to arguably divide people is decide to leave with Atlas and, as I've pointed out extensively elsewhere, that's a matter of trying to save some in the face of inevitable destruction. What does it matter if the Kingdom is divided if the entire Kingdom is dead? That's the same issue we've seen in regards to his supposed dictator choices, like having a curfew and letting his robots roam the streets. Does that feel like an unpleasant thing that may infringe on people's individual rights? Yep. Is that helping to ensure that people don't get eaten by grimm? Yep. If you want a current semi-comparative example, look to the regulations in place due to Corvid-19. There are people going, "You can't make me stay home. It's my right to go wherever I please. It's not right to demand that I stay indoors/give up my vacation/not leave the state/etc. because I am entitled to those freedoms.” But of course the obvious push-back to that is, "These rules are in place to help keep everyone alive." Sometimes people in power claim that there are justified reasons for their infringements on peoples' rights when in fact those reasons are total BS, but I don't think Ironwood is one of those cases. It’s a matter of, "You might not like having robots in the street but they're there so they can at best take out grimm and worst buy you time to run away," which is precisely what we saw when the group first arrived. If Ironwood wanted to be a dictator he would have declared martial law ages ago. Instead his thinking has always been balanced between what is right and what is practical: what do I need to do to keep my people alive? They can be pissed at me all they want, but at least they exist to be pissed. Like we're going, "Yes, we will fine you for leaving your house without a permit so you don't contract and spread this deadly disease.” Ironwood is going, "Yes, I will require that you keep the streets clear so that you don't draw in and get eaten by these deadly creatures." The blurry line between protection and infringement will always be debated, but to my mind Team RWBY's perspective is far too much on the other side of things. It’s dangerously naive. They want to win this war without anyone going through any hardship and, while noble, that's just not possible. They can wish and strive for that all they want, but so long as that keeps them from making logical decisions---like saving at least some of the Kingdom when you have no plan to avoid total annihilation---then they're hurting more than they're helping. Ironwood, like Ozpin, understands that winning any war, let alone a war against an enemy like Salem, is going to be rife with hard and messy choices. Which means that there will always be division. Always! There's literally no choice in existence that keeps everyone happy and safe and never feeling any negative feelings about the shit storm raging around them. Salem wins in that regard simply by virtue of the fact that life is hard and life isn't fair. Accepting that hardships will exist and trying to mitigate the damage from them doesn't make Ironwood a villain and it certainly doesn't make him as bad as Salem. The person causing division as an inevitable byproduct of trying to save the entire world is not the same thing as the woman trying to wipe out that world.

#rwby #rwde #mymetas #Anonymous

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sgtransformersdork · 5 years ago

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Autobots

So there I am, wondering what to make a post about next, and I realized I haven't mentioned much about the Autobots. I made a couple posts about certain Autobots what feels like forever ago, but they feel outdated and a little clunky. So I'm writing some blurbs for the entire Autobot roster (except Ultra Magnus, I talked about him not too long ago, also he's not part of the Ark Crew). I'm still working on the characterizations, but I'm just getting my thoughts out. This is going to be a long one, so hang on to your afterburners.

Optimus Prime- Sadistic, narcissistic, tyrannical, and menacing. He began the war and intends to end it slowly killing every last Decepticon. He's not an idiot, but he tends to fixate on only one aspect: making a devastating impact. This likely harkens back to his days of activism against classism, making an impact big enough to make his opponents notice, and feel dread. Of course, he's long since become a dictator and a terrorist, causing almost the same disparities he fought against.

Rodimus- Living proof that 'conniving' does not mean 'intelligent'. He once agreed with Orion Pax's views, when he was known as Hot Rod. He moved through the Autobot ranks to become second in command (how is unknown), and altered his frame, becoming Rodimus. He became frustrated with Prime's leadership, thinking he could become a much better leader, thus starting his long history of coups. No one knows why he is still second in command, but it frustrates loyal Autobots to no end.

Elita One- Ever since the movement began, she has been there. She will always stand beside Prime, always combat their enemies, and never relinquish the oath she swore. She loves power, but prefers conquest, constantly lusting for battle. Despite being the reason for the fall of Tarn, Caminus, and numerous other territories, she's never satisfied unless she actively has something to conquer. She even has her own legion, known as Elita's Warriors. Some would suggest that she never wants the war to end, but they would be unwise to express this verbally.

Ratchet- In another life, he could've been a great medic, as he is highly skilled. However, he'd rather try to 'improve' his patients with unnecessary surgeries, and often doesn't take proper precautions. It's not entirely clear whether or not he realizes the suffering his patients go through, but it's very likely he doesn't care.

Wheeljack- Wheeljack is actually a good engineer, and he's far more level headed than other Autobots. Unfortunately, he works under Ratchet, and the poor mech has clearly had his mind broken after all those years of being forced to partake in gruesome experiments. And he has become more and more willing by the day.

Perceptor- A truly mad scientist, he has a twisted, sadistic mind, responsible for creating some of the Autobot's worst devices. Some part of him seems to realize how much suffering his creations cause, and yet, he doesn't care. As long as the Autobots need a mind like his, he will continue on this route. As of late, he's been trying to perfect what he calls 'living weapons'.

Bumblebee- It's said that if any Autobot makes a traitorous remark, Prime will know. Bumblebee is always listening and watching, only speaking when he needs to. Many Autobots loathe him, due to his nature as a snitch and a sycophant, but Bumblebee doesn't care. The only thing that matters is staying in a comfortable position that's not easy to lose.

Ironhide- As far as an Autobot goes, he's fairly mild tempered and level headed. Well, as much as you can be as a weapons expert. Of course, it'd be best to stay on his good side, as he does have a lot of weapons and a good aim.

Arcee- A deadly Autobot assassin, who doesn't care what it takes to eliminate a target. She's sacrificed multiple partners to get where she needs to be. She's liked by Optimus Prime, as she's deadly and efficient, but she doesn't seem to care much about having Prime's approval, she'd rather just have the freedom to kill whoever she wants.

Windblade- Originally from Caminus, she joined the Autobots after Elita One claimed the planet. She doesn't trust anyone, nor does she put anyone before herself. She despises the Autobots, likely due to the destruction of her home planet, but would rather be on the side with the upper servo. Despite her fighting skills, most Autobots often overlook her, due to the fact that she is a flight frame. (Optimus Prime despises flight frames, and by extension, many Autobots do as well).

Strongarm- Any Autobot that's known her for more than five minutes has heard the phrase 'frag the rules'. She may be a part of law enforcement, but she's worse than your average criminal, a great testament to Cybertron's twisted law enforcement. She hardly gives a damn about anything but enjoying herself and turning Decepticons to slag. Well, okay, she also deeply loves and defends her partner Windblade no matter the risk.

Skyfire- Despite his degree and scientific genius he's used for nothing more than a soldier and a carrier shuttle, and he resents this deeply. He's tried to be noticed for nine million years, but to no avail. He's quite manipulative, and a ruthless narcissist, with a dangerous silver tongue (metaphorical), intent to push himself to the top through any means necessary, with no regard for who he hurts. He also has a past with Starscream, something he's not willing to let go of.

Prowl- No Autobot really likes dealing with Prowl under most circumstances. He's wild, unpredictable and frequently follows his own ideas...regardless of whether or not it matches what he was ordered. His plans, despite seeming insane seem to work. Outside of battle, it's nearly impossible to deal with him. No Autobot wants anything to do with him, but they're completely fine with setting him on the Decepticons.

Sunstreaker- He knows his place in the Autobot ranks: he's nothing more than cannon fodder. He keeps out of the way, he follows orders, and doesn't let his morality (or whatever's left of it) get in the way. Truth be told, he only joined because his spark twin did.

Sideswipe- As a lowly Labor Class mech, he was willing to do anything to improve his life. Upon hearing about the Autobot movement, he jumped at the opportunity to sign up. But after all these years, it's broken him, causing him to become emotionless and drone-like. He just wants to shoot at Decepticons until this nightmare of a war ends, and get back to...well, not normal, but anything except for this.

Blurr- He's highly calculating, intelligent, and collected. He also has the ability to travel at high speeds, often confusing and distracting his enemies on the battlefield. Prime once regarded him as a great commander, but has since discarded him for 'better warriors'. Regardless, Blurr remains loyal, albeit slightly resentful.

Hound- Hound loves to cause fear in others, nothing gives him a thrill quite like seeing a terrified Decepticon, or hear their screams. Thanks to his ability of projection, he can create confusion and panic in his enemies. There's nothing worse to him than an enemy that can steel themselves against his projections.

Blaster- A communications officer, with similar abilities to Soundwave, such as picking up on frequencies, sonic powers, commanding a team of minicons, but there's a key difference: Blaster considers himself 'sophisticated'. He's a lover of Cybertronian music, (especially ballads), and absolutely despises Earth music. He has a rivalry with Soundwave, or at least he claims to.

Bulkhead- Once a member of the wreckers (that have long since disbanded), Bulkhead is an expert with causing destruction. Beyond that, he's dangerously calculating and intelligent. Despite his size, he's graceful, but also destructive when he needs to be.

Mirage- Mirage has always been a punching bag for his fellow Autobots, and he's well aware of this. He's always had the interesting ability to turn invisible, and often does so when he needs to flee. Due to constantly living in fear, he's always partially transparent. He's considered defecting, but he's too frightened to run to the 'losing side'.

#transformers #shattered glass #transformers shattered glass #not gonna tag all the characters #Sg autobots #sg optimus #Sg Rodimus

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brightening-the-stars · 4 years ago

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Ms. O’Leary’s Dandelions

This is the first story I’ve posted on here, so I’m a bit nervous. I hope you like it! Any feedback is very much appreciated😊

Here’s how it all started: last March, Ms. O’Leary had decided that dandelions were a beautiful type of ground cover, and she really just could not understand why people disliked them so much. Her sentiments on this topic grew and grew, until on one infamous day, she raised her gardening shovel into the air and cried with righteous fury, “Down with grass! All hail the yellow flower!” She stormed out into her front lawn and methodically pulled up all of the grass, blowing dandelion seeds over the bare dirt.

Now, lawn renovations were not uncommon in Ms. O’Leary’s neighborhood (it was one of those suburban picket-fence places common on the East Coast) so no-one really commented about the giant piles of dirt in Ms. O’Leary’s yard, and the piles were gone in a few days anyways. The neighbors, however, had known Ms. O’Leary for some time now, and were skeptical that the renovations would be for the better. They watched her front lawn with trepidation, and thanked whatever God seemed to be running the world at the moment for the invention of fences and walls.

A few weeks later, Ms. O’Leary’s dandelions had risen from the dirt and unfurled their leaves and petals, bathing her yard in their flaming, golden glory. Much like Ms. O’Leary herself, the dandelions’ presence was glorious, ostentatious, and completely inescapable. It was also, predictably, loathed by all of the neighbors. All, that is, but one.

In any great war, there are the two combatants, clashing ideologies and incompatible belief systems driving them to battle as they struggle over small patches of land. There are also war profiteers, the people who arm both sides in exchange for money, but really have no stake in the affair. Finally, there are the civilians-- noncombatants who watch the battles with either horror or mild interest, depending on their proximity to the fight and the lethality of the fighting.

In Ms. O’Leary’s war, the neighbor’s daughter from across the street, Eliza Mendez, played the part of the civilian. Being a teenager, she had too much on her mind (and too large an ego) to be truly invested in the budding conflict, but she thrived off of drama, which alleviated the boredom of sitting through Spanish every day and was available in spades.

One early April afternoon, Eliza had been struggling with her precalculus homework, playing with her pencil as she debated calling Amelie (would it seem too needy?) when a loud bang startled her out of her thoughts. Her head snapped up, and she crept towards the family room, where her father was holding a Homeowners’ Association meeting. She peeked around the corner just in time to see her father bang his fist on the table again as he addressed his friends.

“And who does O’Leary even think she is? This neighborhood has standards, doggone it, and she is failing to meet them. We have principles! We have dignity! And we will not allow dandelions, of all things, to be what drives down the property values in this locale!”

A cheer rose up from the assembled HOA members. A few pounded the table, which was covered with maps, county law printouts, and real estate values. Eliza thought it looked a bit like the pictures in her textbook of generals’ strategy centers during the Civil War.

A brunette woman stepped forward. “What’s our plan of action?”

Eliza’s father frowned. “Well, I am of course open to suggestions, but I’ve been thinking, and I reckon the best way to go about this is to get her with violation of property laws.” Eliza’s father was a lawyer, and litigation was what he did best. “If we go about this the right way we won’t need to take any, well, drastic measures.”

The crowd quieted. “Drastic measures” entailed a ban from the bi-monthly Neighborhood Barbecue. Ms. O’Leary always brought a divine plate of chocolate chip cookies, and they would be sorely missed if the HOA was forced to disinvite her.

“We ought to give her a chance to back down before we come at her with legalese,” the brunette said nervously. “I know I would at least want a warning first.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re a coward!”

“Who said that?”

Eliza crept from the doorway as the meeting devolved into shouting. She had no interest in making polite small talk with her parents’ stuffed shirt friends. It was always “Oh, Eliza, do you know where you’re going to apply for college?” or “Eliza, what do you plan to major in?” Never let it be said that being a teenager on the cusp of adulthood is easy.

The next day, Ms. O’Leary was standing on her front patio, hands on her hips as she admired her dandelions. They all seemed to be thriving, bobbing gently in the spring breeze. She lifted her gaze to squint towards the horizon, and blinked when she noticed a few silhouettes against the rising sun. Her eyes narrowed. It appeared to be Mr. Mendez from across the street. She readied herself for battle.

Mr. Mendez led the march to Ms. O’Leary’s doorstep. He and his four escorts (other officials within the HOA) were dressed in their neatest outfits, wearing their shiniest shoes. He walked up to Ms. O’Leary, and brandished some very official paperwork like a sword.

Ms. O’Leary adjusted her spectacles. “Cease and desist…” she read aloud. She smiled widely. “What a gift. More paper for my paper mache pumpkins.” Her smile disappeared. “You shouldn’t have.”

Mr. Mendez and his compatriots were sprouting truly admirable fake grins. “Whether I should have or not doesn’t matter,” Mr. Mendez beamed through gritted teeth. “The law is the law, and you broke it.”

“The law says that I cannot plant flowers in my own lawn? The law dictates that I must conform to your quaint notions of normalcy?” She paused, waiting for a reply. None came. “I thank you for your directness.” She extended her hand. Mr. Mendez handed her the papers, his shoulders slumping slightly from their tense position. He smiled smugly. Ms. O’Leary stared at him, eyebrows raised. “You may leave now.” After a beat, Mr. Mendez nodded, harrumphed, and turned away. A quick glance at his shoes greatly diminished his aura of smugness; they were covered in dust from Ms. O’Leary’s lawn. Nevertheless, he bravely rallied and marched back home, his fellow representatives offering Ms. O’Leary the requisite good day’s as they turned to follow.

Ms. O’Leary stared down at the paper for a few minutes, then lifted her head to the sky. She slowly ripped the cease-and-desist order into four quarters, opening her hand to let a gust of wind blow the quarters away. “If it is a war they want,” she told the fluffy clouds overhead, “It is a war they shall get!” Her voice rang across the neighborhood, echoing longer than it should have. Eliza looked up from her homework and watched her neighbor shake her fist at the sky as her father did a victory dance in the kitchen. She rolled her eyes. Why did this neighborhood have to be so weird?

Several days later, Eliza’s curiosity (and a bit of hunting around in the bushes) had informed her that the quarters of the paper fit together into a dire warning of what would happen if Ms.O’Leary failed to assimilate to the neighborhood norm. A cursory glance at Ms. O’Leary’s lawn informed Eliza that she had done nothing of the sort. Her lawn was even brighter than before. Or, at least, most of it was. Pausing on her way to take out the trash for Tuesday’s collection, Eliza watched Ms. O’Leary inspect a dark patch in the far corner of her lawn.

Ms. O’Leary whipped her head around, spotting Eliza instantly. “You, there!”

Eliza jumped, avoiding eye contact as she prepared to nonchalantly wander back up her steps. Observing the eccentric neighbor didn’t mean she actually wanted to talk to the eccentric neighbor.

“Eliza Mendez!”

Eliza sighed and stepped forward. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Come over here and tell me what you think this is!”

Eliza hesitated for a moment, worried by Ms. O’Leary’s sharp tone, but her curiosity won out. Standing at the edge of the dark patch, she performed her assessment.

“Uhh… It looks dead,” she diagnosed with some confusion.

“Weedkiller!” Ms. O’Leary shouted. “They used weedkiller, the bastards!” She stared at Eliza with an incensed expression until she realized that Ms. O’Leary probably wanted a reply.

“That’s rough.”

“It is, indeed!” Ms. O’Leary agreed empathetically. “And all because I simply asked the Chair of the County Landscaping Department to allow my lawn to be the way I like! I suppose your father and his cohorts were forced to resort to more underhanded measures. These are truly lawless times we find ourselves in, hmm?”

Eliza nodded, trying to keep the corners of her mouth from twitching upwards.

“And I had been so looking forward to my dandelion tea,” Ms. O’Leary continued. “It’s good for the psychic powers, you know.” she winked at Eliza, who raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Come to think of it, psychic powers might have been useful when I was trying to persuade the County Chair… But no matter! Now, we must focus our efforts on revenge. This travesty cannot go unpunished!”

Eliza nodded again, watching as Ms. O’Leary paced back and forth, muttering to herself. She stopped in the middle of her yard, snapping her fingers.

“I’ve got it! Eliza,” she began, turning to face her, “Would you say these dandelions are aesthetically pleasing?”

“I guess so,” Eliza said. She had never understood why her father hated them so much.

“And it’s the responsibility of good, friendly neighbors to help each other improve their landscaping, as your father so kindly demonstrated when he vandalized my property with weedkiller, of all things.”

“Um, well--.”

“What I’m saying--” an evil grin spread across Ms. O’Leary’s face-- “is that it is my responsibility to kindly allow my glorious, flowery offspring to spread across their lawns. We can, in fact, start with yours.”

Eliza opened her mouth to object, then closed it, imagining the sheer chaos that would result from such an action. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll help.”

That afternoon, she blew a dandelion puff in her front yard, watching the seeds proliferate, spreading across the ground. So ended the first battle in what would prove to be a long and costly war. The Golden Hordes of dandelions spread across the neighborhood like wildfire, with the Brown Death of weedkiller following close behind. The battle raged, neither side able to gain an advantage. Mr. Mendez and Ms. O’Leary’s sneaking around in others’ yards gradually got more and more blatant. Unseemly dark and yellow patches appeared all across the neighborhood, and noncombatants were beginning to get fed up.

At the next HOA meeting, amidst the lawn schematics and bulk weedkiller orders, a dark haired woman scoffed.

“This is ridiculous,” she told Mr. Mendez. “I propose that we take drastic measures.” A hush spread at her words.

“All in favor?” Mr. Mendez scanned the room. “It is decided then. We will go to break the news tomorrow.”

The next day saw Mr. Mendez and his entourage once again marching on Ms. O’Leary’s lawn. Their imposing image was marred by the pouring rain and the ginger way that they were forced to pick their way through the mud on Ms. O’Leary’s lawn, but they rallied and Mr. Mendez sharply rapped on Ms. O’Leary’s door.

“A moment, please!” There were some scuffling noises, then Ms. O’Leary opened the door. She was leaning against the doorframe, holding a book entitled “The Paranormal Uses of Common Flowers and Herbs”. She snapped the book closed and raised her eyebrows at the muddy group on her doorstep. “Come to surrender, have you?”

“No,” Mr. Mendez began, taking a breath to gather his courage. “We’ve come to disinvite you from the Neighborhood Barbecue.”

Ms. O’Leary blinked. “I see,” she said slowly. “And of my cookies?”

“We’ll do without.” (Ms. O’Leary swore she heard a sob from behind Mr. Mendez at that.)

“I petition to come to the Barbecue one last time to deal with unfinished business. I must demonstrate to Susan that my cookies are statistically proven to be superior to her brownies.”

“You can come when everyone’s yard is back to normal. Including yours!”

“Very well,” Ms. O’Leary said. “When is the next Barbecue?”

“In a week.”

“I will see you then.” Ms. O’Leary smiled slowly.

Mr. Mendez shifted on his feet. “Um. Right then. We’ll be going now.”

Ms. O’Leary watched them leave. She returned to her book as she closed the door. It was open to a page entitled “wishes”. She muttered to herself, heading out into her yard to pick some dandelions.

On the day of the barbecue, the lawns were no nicer than they had been before. Eliza loitered around the brownie table, mourning the loss of Ms. O’Leary’s cookies. Maybe she could get some as payment for her involvement with starting this whole thing? She was broken out of her train of thought by a raindrop falling on her from above. The neighbors glanced upward, tittering in alarm. The sky was dark gray, with gusting wind shaking the tops of the trees.

“Looks like tornado weather,” someone remarked. Susan, who was hosting, ushered everyone into her basement. The neighbors huddled together, listening to the storm pick up outside. The wind howled, and they could hear Susan’s house rattling above them.

When the rattling stopped, they emerged to a very bizarre sight. The grass was ripped from the lawn and the barbecue setup was strewn about, but Susan’s house was untouched. A quick inspection of the backyard reported much of the same: no grass, but no lasting property damage. Wandering into the corner of the garden, Eliza did a double take. “Hey, dad!” He approached, and she pointed at the patch of dandelions that was completely untouched. (Susan had done her best to rid her yard of the pests, but they really were persistent.) They rushed back into the front yard, watching in bewilderment as many of their neighbors discovered a similar phenomenon. Dandelions are good for wishes, she remembered. As if summoned when Eliza thought of her, Ms. O’Leary rounded the corner and marched toward the gathering, a plate of cookies in one hand, and “The Paranormal Uses of Flowers and Herbs” in the other.

“Well, that was quite a storm, was it not?” She asked cheerfully. “Although, I had been quite wishing for a bit of a breeze. It gets so hot in summer, hmm?” The neighbors stared. Ms. O’Leary’s gaze alighted upon a surviving patch of dandelions. “Tenacious things, aren’t they? I do suggest that you all plant some. They are beautiful and low maintenance.” She winked at Eliza. “And, legend has it, good for wishes.” She righted the table where Susan’s brownies had once sat, and placed her plate of warm cookies on top. Turning to Mr. Mendez, she asked, “I trust I will see you at the next Barbecue? I believe I’m hosting.” He nodded slowly, and Ms. O’Leary turned to go. For weeks afterwards, the neighbors would argue in hushed tones about whether she had walked away, or simply vanished into thin air.

The next month saw yards full of dandelions lining the streets of Eliza’s neighborhood. The HOA had succumbed to the pressure of having a “witch” (according to Susan) in the area, and had written “Ms. O’Leary can do as she pleases” into the neighborhood building codes. Eliza sighed at her homework, and looked up through the window. Ms. O’Leary waved to her from her yard, then went back to… was her cat floating? Eliza dropped her pencil and hurried outside. Ms. O’Leary laughed, and turned inside to grab the tray of cookies that she always prepared for Eliza when she came to visit and inquire about her more unusual habits.

#writeblr #my writing #fiction #short story #witch #cottagecore #i guess??#spilled words #spilled ink #writers on tumblr #writing #original writing #original content #original work #first post #original fiction #writers

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randomisemily · 4 years ago

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I wanna rant about getting my driver’s license, but some people might need to know some stuff beforehand, so here you go:

- In Belgium, you have to take a written test on basic knowledge of traffic (rules & signs), passing that test allows you to request for a permit

- There are two different permits: 1) 36 months: allows you to drive, but not by yourself. 2) 18 months: allows you to drive by yourself. Though, in both cases, you have to take lessons beforehand.

-You can get your license at the age of 18

- the driver’s test includes a “risk perception” test (you have to watch a few videos and determine who’s on the road and who’s a risk etc) + also, of course, a test on the road, including a few parking skills

- Additonally, I’d like to mention that the laws concerning learning how to drive and permits etc have changed A LOT the last few years, so if sometimes my rant is confusing, IT IS FOR ME AS WELL

- Every 2 times you fail an exam, you have to take 6 hours of lessons before you are allowed to take the exam again.

ALRIGHT LETS GET STARTED

So when I was 18, I personally felt like I wasn’t ready to get my license yet. I wasn’t all that interested anyway and because I had friends who could drive, an older brother,... I was happy not driving. It didn’t bother me that much, and when Iook back at that time, I might even add that I might’ve been scared to drive.

I felt like my life wasn’t too difficult without a license, though I lived in a rural area, I had easy access to busses and, mostly, trains. I also pretty much biked everywhere, and I didn’t mind that much.

When I was 19, I started dating my fiancé, who had a license and took me everywhere. Some might think he was enabling, but in our case, I think he was just happy to do it. He was patient with me and when I was almost 21, I took the written test and passed.

See, after that, I’m fuzzy on the details because I’m 28 now. So time has PASSED. But at that time I did decide to get a 36 month license. The reason was mostly financial: for a 18 month license, you have to take more lessons, and the lessons are expensive. (to drive alone, you have to take 20 hours of lessons, which as roughly 1500 euros). BUT for the 36 month permit, it’s only required to take 6 hours, which is rougly 500 euros. Considering the fact I had to pay that myself, I felt like I couldn’t afford the extra 1000 euros. I think, the other reason was that I was scared to drive by myself - maybe even scared to drive at all.

The permit I chose, requires you to get a mentor. Usually, it’s a family member, in my case, it was my dad. I thought it would be a good choice because my dad knows how to drive a truck and has tons of experience. He’s also calm and I thought he’d be good at giving instructions.

That worked out a little different. It seemed like my dad was, like myself, a little scared to teach me. So here we were: two people who weren’t going to encourage each other to drive. The addition problem was that my dad’s working a lot, so a lot of times I was tired or he was. Yeah, it’s an excuse, and we knew it.

One time, when were finally practicing, we were on a private road nearby. We were just starting & stopping, you know, the basics. There was a guy walking his Jack Russell, but without a leash. We weren’t going fast at all, but all of the sudden, the dog ran in front of my car. The dog ran off, over a big field, as fast as it could, and eventually, it ran home. We were shocked, scared and felt bad for the dog. The dog wasn’t injured that badly, but it so happened that we also had a similar dog at the time, so we truly felt for the little scared dog. I am, ‘till this day, though, a little angry with the owner because you don’t let your dog off your leash, that’s just my opinion.

ANYHOW, after practicing a few months or something, we decided I was ready. I felt ready but both my dad and I were NERVOUS AS SHIT. The examirer was 15 minutes late, which only made it worse. My exam was a nightmare, after 5 minutes on the road, I had to go back. Out of nervousness, I didn’t see an old lady crossing the road. It was a disaster and the memory is still vivid.

A second attempt came around the corner, and this time, I really thought I was ready. It was closer to the time the permit was going to expire, so I really hoped it would work out this time. Failed. This time, I didn’t use my breaks properly. Apparently, my dad had been teaching me wrong and I didn’t remember from the lessons I took.

I can’t remember anymore why I failed the third time, but I did. And this time, my permit really was about to expire. After failing this time, I had no choice but to let it expire.

This SUCKED because, as you might do the math, I was already 25 by then. And by the time I was 25, I did in fact, really need a car and a license. I had just graduated college and I needed a job. Schools in general are usually easily accessible by train, so was mine. Jobs, however, are not. For my internship in my last year of college, for example, I had to bike to the train station, take a train, tranfer to another train, take a bus and then bike again. The internship was great, getting there, however, was a nightmare.

It also sucked because at the time, there was a rule in place, that dictated that if your permit expires, you can’t request a new one. There was a “waiting period” of 3 years. Yes, three YEARS. There are some exceptions because I can still, possibly, get your license during that time if you re-take your written test and take your driving exam with a professional driving school (the one you use to take lessons). This is, in fact, what I tried to do. The tricky part is that, when you’re not on the road during your “normal” life (work, groceries,...) it’s harder to get back on the horse. It was for me, anyway. I tried to the the exam that way twice. I failed twice. After the second time, I still had a year left in that “waiting period”, so I figured I wouldn’t try anymore and just wait it out. During those three years, I got a job nearby where I could bike to. It was alright.

After the three years, and 5 exams later, I was fed up and I wanted to pass more than ever. But I knew I needed to do better this time. I took the 20 hours (yes, the lessons kept pilling up and so were the bills) so that I could drive alone and get the 18 month permit. By that time, I was also working full time and had moved out and moved in with my fiancé. So I was READY to be an adult and driving alone also meant that freedom I desperately wanted.

My reasoning was also the fact that I felt like I didn’t have enough real life experience driving a car before. I didn’t need to do groceries, I was still living at home at the time and, as I mentioned, was always practicing with my dad. This time, not only did I want to drive alone, I needed to.

A few months before the 18 months ended, I wanted to take the test again. Six times a charm, I thought. This time, my “mentor” wasn’t my dad anymore, it was my fiancé. Mind you, my fiance, lovely as he is, is neurotic and full of anxiety (bless his heart). Yet again, I was confronted by my nerves, and his. And failed the test because of my parking skills (or lack of). Actually, I was too nervous and had a minor anxiety attack while parking.

The next time, I tried to get back on the horse almost right away and tried to take an exam with, not my boyfriend, but a professional driving instructor (€€€€€€). The seventh time almost worked out. I ALMOST passed, until the last few minutes I made a mistake at a crossroads. I mean, fuck.

For the eight time, I realized I needed to do the same so I scheduled the exam for March this year. Then, of course, a pandemic came knocking on the door. The exam was cancelled and I felt major relief - though, I did need to pass and I knew it.

After everything re-opened in May, I sort of procrastinated making an appointment again. I just, I couldn’t. I knew I had to, but I had failed this test 7 times. A driving test. Thinking about it, I mean, I have a bachelors degree. I had good job. I’m engaged. But I didn’t have a driver’s license. And no, I’m not a New Yorker.

But luckily, when I procastinate, my body doesn’t agree and protests. I was watching a Modern Family episode one night where Haley struggled to get her license and I felt her pain so much. My heart was racing. I got nervous and flustered. And this continued. I was watching anyone driving on tv and I continued having tiny panic attacks. Talk about triggers: people driving.

Anyway, I finally managed to call to make the apointment (took a lot of energy). I, again, made an appointment with a professional instructor. Though it was more expensive, it was the best approach. My car is old and driving my car to the exam would also mean I’d have to deal with my nervous (and not helping at all) fiancé. I knew I needed a steady and experienced person by my side.

Yesterday, I took the test and I passed. Eight years and eight tries.

I thought I would be ecstatic, but I wasn’t. I mean, I was. But honestly, It’s all been hitting me. Slowly.

I’ve had this extreme fear. Extreme shame. Extreme anxiety for years. Because of that, it’s like, I have to process everything. I mean, everything. For example, I can now drive to my job, no strings attached. I can find a better job, that’s not as nearby. We bought a house to a rural area so it’s hard NOT to drive a car. I used to fear I’d feel locked up in the house as long as I didn’t have my license. Now, I have to process that this won’t be the case anymore and I can experience that freedom. There have been so many small things that I had to adjust to. Also, the shame I experienced. It’s just GONE now. Just simply, GONE.

But in any case, I’m also super stoked. And the reason I ranted was

1) to express myself and get it off my chest but also

2) if anyone experiences the same thing (or a similar thing) to assure that it happened to me too.

And for anyone who doesn’t want to ride with me - I totally understand but I took so many classes I consider it an asset. Not only do I know the laws of driving SUPER WELL, I am NEVER going to jeopardize it by driving badly. Because I ain’t planning on losing what I’ve got!

thank you for reading or scrolling

#driving #Driver's License #driving test #anxiety

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bellamygateoldblog · 5 years ago

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how do we feel about bellamy abandoning a suicidal octavia in a toxic forest in the name of monty, 'monty gave his life for us so we could have another change, and im not going to let you destroy it' who repeatedly made it clear in his final season that he wished he did more to save jasper

…we don’t feel great about it. Lol.

Got a little carried away. Apparently I had a stronger opinion on this on this than I thought I did.

There’s an LT;DR at the bottom if you don’t feel like reading the whole thing :)

The Blake relationship is a really complicated one. And I think how you see this event in particular depends on how you interpret this dynamic during the rest of the show, and how sympathetic you are towards Octavia as a character.

I want to start with this: the second chance was Monty’s to give, and only Monty’s. Bellamy doesn’t get to dictate who that message does and does not apply to, because Monty made it perfectly clear he holds no grudges, and wants the best for what’s left of the human race regardless of who they’ve been in the past or what they’ve done. That’s the whole point of ‘doing better’. He just wants everyone to do better than they did, whichever way that is. Monty didn’t specifically say ‘oh but not Octavia she can choke’ so therefore Bellamy had no right to be cowering behind Monty’s words.

He’s telling them to try a bit harder to be more understanding, compassionate, and rational. He wants them to choose to be farmers rather than warriors- to rebuild rather than destroy, to grow rather than deforest, to choose peace over war no matter what. It means a lot more than just ‘hey! maybe don’t go on another genocidal rampage?’

And by abandoning/banishing Octavia, Bellamy did the opposite of what Monty wanted. It almost felt, as i was watching, like he’d sentenced her to death. Like Clarke was banishing Murphy all over again. Or like he was Clarke abandoning him to die in the fighting pits. And I don’t know…repeating old mistakes doesn’t exactly scream ‘doing better’ to me.

Maybe this was Bellamy’s way of ridding the toxicity from the group?

But deciding she’s a lost cause and leaving her there, a clearly mentally unstable woman (and not only just some ‘woman’, but the baby sister he’s shared his life with), on an alien planet that none of them even know is safe at this point, or if it’s inhabited with hostile entities, from some moral high horse/manpainTM point of view is so low. It’s unearned at this point in the series.

Our attention was drawn to how hard it was for him. How upset he was after he did it. Rather than to Octavia and how she felt about it. It brought me back to that moment in season five, to how the camera focused in on Clarke’s pained teary-eyed expression while the child she was electrocuting was a blurry spot the background. Just what the fuck? Is all i have to say about that. He was very much Clarke in this moment; pulling a lever, leaving someone he loves on the outside *for the people* and feeling a bit ashamed but justified about it regardless.

She was trying to do the S1 Bellamy thing and stowaway to an alien planet to protect the one she loved. But the emotional fallout of season five was immense and both of them were way too amped up for any of it to go as planned. Which makes me wonder why the writers even attempted it in the first place?

But let’s just take a minute to think about how reckless and borderline insane this whole decision is from Bellamy- this is the girl who started out an illegal child, unwanted by the people she was born into, who assimilated with the indigenous people, earned their respect, found belonging with them until ultimately she became their leader. Like, if you really thought she was this much of a hazard, throwing her adaptive ass into the wilderness ready to meet another set of warrior people maybe isn’t the best idea you’ve ever had?

HOWEVER

I’m not actually opposed to a detail like this. Because of the unhealthy and sometimes poisonous nature of the Blake sibling relationship. And because they both absolutely needed time apart if Octavia were ever to grow out of Blodreina.

No matter what Monty never gave up on Jasper. But Jasper was usually self-destructive and didn’t act out emotionally using violence like how Octavia does so naturally. He could be a pain in Monty’s ass from time-to-time, but Jasper was never a threat to anyone but himself.

Bellamy cast Octavia out because she killed those guards unnecessarily. She hadn’t yet reflected on what became of her, nor had she processed any of the trauma from the bunker and following battle for Eden, in which some of the heaviest casualties were her most important relationships, with Indra, and with Bellamy. As convinient as it was to utilise violence as a tool for maintaining power, law, and order within the bunker…they aren’t in the bunker anymore, and she is no longer someone with a crushing responsibility.

Was any of that Bellamy’s fault? No.

Was it Bellamy’s job to ‘fix’ her? No.

(Do I think Monty would encourage him to mend their relationship anyway after losing his best friend and brother? Yes.)

But as her big brother and psudo-father, someone that spent his entire life protecting and taking care of her, the bare minimum i’d expect from him in a situation like this is for him to show some empathy, listen to the whole story from her point of view rather than basing his entire livelyhood on the biased accounts of a couple of Wonkru defectors, and make an attempt to understand why she is no longer the baby sister he remembers her being. If anyone was in the position to understand her- her behaviour, her mindset, the weight of leadership and how it shapes a person, and the pressure of making potentially morally corrupt decisions to ensure the people’s safety putting your humanity on the line for it- it’s him.

This was just cheap drama in place of where they could’ve written a meaningful conflict between them.

It was an oppurtunity to address Octavia’s past treatment of him, their co-dependence, their mother, Bellamy deeply believing his life was stolen from him and Octavia feeling she never had a chance to begin with, Bellamy’s inclination to make himself smaller so Octavia can take up as much space as she possibly can, both of their perverse insecurities that manifest in equally debilitating ways, Bellamy’s skewed sense of self pushing him to orbit around her, Octavia’s identity issues and lack of socialisation and resulting narrow black-or-white mindset, I could go on and on. There’s so so much content here to explore. There’s so much stress and pain in this relationship. It’s a shame that despite all that they decided to go omg cannibalism!!!!!!!!

Octavia took forever to forgive Bellamy for what happened to Lincoln, she demonised him, she attacked him over it in one of the most grotesque and unhinged displays of violence i’ve ever seen, and that wasn’t even his fault. I think we can afford Bellamy the same amount of room.

If this ‘banishment’ was the long-time-coming storm of past trauma of their intertwined existences that has long since been buried, if the time of physical peace spent on the ring building a family of his own pushed Bellamy to make a realisation or two about love and family, and the stressful draining qualities of his relationship with Octavia began to morph into resentment of her, and all this abandonment is, is just a beautifully crafted, carefully maintained facade collapsing between them, I WOULD LOVE IT. It’s understandable. But I need to see them have it out with each other first. If nothing is addressed, if they still go on carrying those things around and never find closure, not only is that hindering Octavia’s growth, but Bellamy’s, too.

But none of that happened in season six. Instead i got to see yet another female with her autonomy ripped from her and i got to see manpain.

Over time she supressed any parts of herself that would make her appear weak. It was always going to take time to pull herself out of that dark place and find a way to shape an identity that isn’t based in something that can easily be ripped away from her. So removing her from the group to find ‘the self’ is a good choice. But it had to be her choice.

I think if everything had blown up and Octavia had chosen to leave on her own volition because she recognises her own tragedy and calamity and wants to do what’s right, it would’ve been the perfect place to begin a redemption/reflection arc for her. With self-awareness. What do they say? The first step to fixing a problem is admitting you have one in the first place?

In an answer to another ask I said it would make some sense for Bellamy (and Clarke & Spacekru) to be unintentionally hypocritcal and judgemental considering the time distance between their last violent experience and how long they’ve had to make peace with the past. While Octavia was in the most stressful position she’s ever been in, and right in the thick of things for the six years that everyone else spent healing and maturing in.

So we have Bellamy as his most reassurred, most contented self- and he comes to Earth, he comes face-to-face with an unhinged Octavia, and is overwhelmed immediately with biased and incomplete information recapping the last six years during an erratic situation with enemies. I’d be confused and paranoid, too tf?

Bellamy loves Octavia more than life. But she’s morphed into a woman he no longer recognises and it could even come as a personal betrayal to him. He’s been disconnected from her for six years. He’s no longer intoxicated by his love and devotion to her. And he’s having a hard time accepting that the baby sister he thinks the world of is capable of such cruelty. So he’s having trouble forgiving her for it. I think it makes a lot of sense. Except, again, they never addressed anything like this.

Season five Bellamy I get. I’m sympathetic to him just as I am Octavia.

But in season six he appeared, not like he was acting on years of supressed emotional turmoil, but like he was on some moral high horse looking down on her from it.

The end of season five left things open, and there was a lot of potential there for things between them to improve, but season six took it and threw it out the nearest window. And we saw Octavia crawling on her hands and knees begging for forgiveness from a man that 1) doesn’t want her, 2) doesn’t respect her, 3) refused to listen to her, and 4) only accepted her once she was the woman he wanted her to be, who was now no longer traumatised.

TL;DR: I’m not opposed to the whole idea of them seperating in season six, with Octavia being the castaway, but it should’ve been Octavia’s choice, not Bellamy’s. And I think Monty might be disappointed that this was what (season six) Bellamy took away from his video on ‘doing better’. To ‘do better’ he decided to choose just one person that can represent all the evil that exists within both his people and himself and throw her out the dropship door. Problem solved! But there are many ways in which I think the writers could’ve done a lot more with this idea, and a lot better, too.

#hopefully this i objective I tried to make it so #the 100 #octavia blake #pro octavia blake #bellamy blake #rosie tag: share with the group #took me a couple days to answer so i hope whoever sent it will see

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kob131 · 4 years ago

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https://itsclydebitches.tumblr.com/post/613974327525883904/one-of-the-worst-parts-of-the-entire-volume-7

Because they didn’t, seeing as they told the truth later on. And wouldn’t Ironwood turning on them BE the sheer horror after how much we got to know him?

It really does confuse me. So many people are insisting that Ironwood is the one causing division because:

Oh this should be good.

He’s taking resources from Mantle… to build a means of uniting the whole world, an action that he believes will eliminate the Salem problem completely.

And Ozpin lied to try and unite the world and give it hope: he still lied and shouldn’t have done that because he never considered how damaging that would be to his cause. Just like Ironwood not helping Mantle wouldn’t work if Mantle’s a god damn ghost town.

He refuses to work with Robyn… even though he doesn’t refuse, merely points out that they both need to find common ground for an alliance to work, while she’s the one proving that he was right to mistrust her (stealing supplies, spying on his projects, trying to use her semblance in front of Jacques, immediately abandoning Ironwood the moment he makes a decision she doesn’t like).

They HAD common ground: Help the people. You even admit she worked with the man the moment he proved he was trying to help. And guess what caused her to side against him? Him trying to arrest Qrow (in her eyes, an innocent man) and DITCHING MANTLE.

He arrests Team RWBY… because they made it clear they wouldn’t support him first. They’re the ones who broke this alliance, telling him in no uncertain terms that if he didn’t do things their way they would stand against him. More importantly, they broke that alliance weeks ago by lying to him and keeping secrets right at the start. If RWBYJNR doesn’t trust Ozpin because of those lies why in the world would they expect Ironwood to trust them? Throw in Blake and Yang betraying him again and it’s clear that they were never willing to work with him. They’re only willing to use him as a resource that follows their orders, free of compromise.

... You wanna know what kills your argument before you even make it?

Being biased.

‘he didn’t do things their way’ = ‘Leaving Mantle to die to save Atlas’

‘keeping secrets right at the start’ = ‘Ironwood did the same thing with Amity’

‘’They’re only willing to use him as a resource’ = ‘Ironwood is making a decision that fundamentally goes against Team RWBY’s and his own principles.’

This whole post so far has been blaming other people or making excuses for Ironwood’s own decisions and their consequences. For people who bitch at the ones defending Team RWBY for doing, you sure are comfortable doing it yourself.

The only thing Ironwood has done to arguably divide people is decide to leave with Atlas and, as I’ve pointed out extensively elsewhere, that’s a matter of trying to save some in the face of inevitable destruction.

An ‘inevitable destruction’ they don’t know is ‘inevitable’.

What does it matter if the Kingdom is divided if the entire Kingdom is dead

Because he’s been preaching ‘save everyone’ for the whole Volume, it’s his duty as a public servant and leaving people to die will just make everyone angry and distrustful of him...which will lead them to die ANYWAY.

That’s the same issue we’ve seen in regards to his supposed dictator choices, like having a curfew and letting his robots roam the streets. Does that feel like an unpleasant thing that may infringe on people’s individual rights? Yep. Is that helping to ensure that people don’t get eaten by grimm? Yep.

Because authoritarian dictators have never used a crisis to seize power and not like America, the country PRODUCING RWBY, is fundamentally against this shit.

If you want a current semi-comparative example, look to the regulations in place due to Corvid-19. There are people going, “You can’t make me stay home. It’s my right to go wherever I please. It’s not right to demand that I stay indoors/give up my vacation/not leave the state/etc. because I am entitled to those freedoms.” But of course the obvious push-back to that is, "These rules are in place to help keep everyone alive.

At the cost of making them miserable and distrusting in the government, which leads to people ignoring ALL Covid regulations, even the non-invasive ones, and then people start dying again but no one cares at that point because they feel the government has ignored and abused them. Kind of like what happened with Ironwood and Mantle, as Mantle became hostile towards him as he never tried to understand or compromise with them.

Sometimes people in power claim that there are justified reasons for their infringements on peoples’ rights when in fact those reasons are total BS, but I don’t think Ironwood is one of those cases.

You’re so biased for the guy I doubt you would admit it even if you though Ironwood was like that. And even then, so called ‘justified reasons’ still aren’t reasons to infringe on people’s rights.

It’s a matter of, “You might not like having robots in the street but they’re there so they can at best take out grimm and worst buy you time to run away,” which is precisely what we saw when the group first arrived.

And then they all got fucked when said regulations caused such a volatile state that when Jacques took advantage, it began a chain reaction that caused the Grimm to attack and everything in the climax to happen.

If Ironwood wanted to be a dictator he would have declared martial law ages ago. Instead his thinking has always been balanced between what is right and what is practical: what do I need to do to keep my people alive? They can be pissed at me all they want, but at least they exist to be pissed.

You don’t need a want to make mistakes and do bad shit: all it takes is being misguided. Ironwood never shows he considers what is right, only what is practical within the boundaries he thinks is right. He never listened to others until before Salem and it continuously costed him.

You know, for as much flak he got, Ozpin shows why his way worked better than Ironwood. Yeah he lied to but he also considered the feelings of others, he listened to them, he accepted their arguments and went out of his way to try and accommodate them. Because of this, even now, everyone is still loyal to him in some way. They’re all chasing flawed versions of Ozpin’s way, because the man lived long enough to see the path that was best.

Like we’re going, “Yes, we will fine you for leaving your house without a permit so you don’t contract and spread this deadly disease.” Ironwood is going, "Yes, I will require that you keep the streets clear so that you don’t draw in and get eaten by these deadly creatures.”

And then the people said “We don’t care anymore, you have shown us no reason to trust you.”

You cannot ignore the people’s wishes forever without consequence.

The blurry line between protection and infringement will always be debated, but to my mind Team RWBY’s perspective is far too much on the other side of things.

Cool, you’ve proceeded to understand HALF the conflict. 50% is still a failing grade though.

It’s dangerously naive.

Same with you. Meanwhile, Ironwood is dangerously pessimistic, disregarding others viewpoints and feelings to march ahead, never realizing he’ll never reach his goal because his methods destroyed any chance at it. Down to even ignoring a fundamental aspect of human nature.

They want to win this war without anyone going through any hardship and, while noble, that’s just not possible.

... Yang lost an arm and they’ve watched people DIE.

That is HIGHLY reductionist of their view.

hey can wish and strive for that all they want, but so long as that keeps them from making logical decisions—like saving at least some of the Kingdom when you have no plan to avoid total annihilation—then they’re hurting more than they’re helping.

Meanwhile, Ironwood can make all the ‘practical’ decisions he wants, but as long as he continues to ignore fundamental aspects of human nature, like opposing oppression even if it means mutual destruction, he can’t save anyone.

Ironwood, like Ozpin, understands that winning any war, let alone a war against an enemy like Salem, is going to be rife with hard and messy choices. Which means that there will always be division.

And Ozpin went out of his way to ensure UNITY. He tried to be as honest as he could be with people, consider their feelings, stand by his principles.

Let me ask you: Why doesn’t Ozpin just take away four baby girls from their parents and raise them to be the Maidens as his undeniably loyal underlings? Lock the Maidens away so no one can ever get to them, thus preventing their power from falling into the wrong hands? Why doesn’t he just declare open war on Salem and sacrifice countless lives to forever keep her in check?

Why doesn’t Ozpin act like a worse version of Ironwood?

Because he knows better than to do this.

here’s literally no choice in existence that keeps everyone happy and safe and never feeling any negative feelings about the shit storm raging around them. Salem wins in that regard simply by virtue of the fact that life is hard and life isn’t fair. Accepting that hardships will exist and trying to mitigate the damage from them doesn’t make Ironwood a villain and it certainly doesn’t make him as bad as Salem.

Yeah, it just makes him as bad as the people he turned against.

The person causing division as an inevitable byproduct of trying to save the entire world is not the same thing as the woman trying to wipe out that world.

It does make him as bad as his predecessor.

Yeah, remember the Great War in RWBY? The one that started because of events in Mantle. Events that infringed on the citizen’s rights for survival’s sake and it did the opposite, causing a fuckton of death and destruction?

Yeah, Ironwood is doing the SAME BASIC THING the King of Mantle did. He’s REPEATING his land’s own mistakes.

When you ask that Ironwood be seen as the good guy here, you ask that people not only ignore events in the show, events in real life, the foundation of the country RWBY is made in, the foundation of the show itself but the foundation of the people he’s trying to save.

That doesn’t work.

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scramblednoodle · 4 years ago

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Day 50 - Is this the feeling they talk about?

One of the recurring things you hear about in transition stories is a high frequency of positive mood changes. You feel better, you feel more confident, all as you come to accept who you are, and you start to make that physical change.

There’s a photo from a card my Mom-in-law made on Vermin(Jay) and My dresser. It’s from last XMas. I’m beefy, I’m bearded. It’s me, but it’s not me. It’s an old me. The me in the mirror isn’t that person anymore. And I’m actually pretty fine with that. I’m more than fine, let’s be honest. I like what I see. There’s a certain amount of androgyny, especially when compared to my previous appearance. I’ve got longer hair, I’m 50 lbs lighter, and it’s starting to show in the face.

I like it.

So right now, there are two-fold changes: the transition to my correct gender, and a more reasonable weight.

I like it, but what’s more, I feel like I like it. Like, I legitimately like who I’m seeing. I’m still uncertain, but there’s this building sense of ‘right’. And my moods and desires are starting to change in some ways.

I have, for the past 10 years or so of my mental health journey, constantly worried about whether or not my good moods were just a phase, whether I was just manic, and whether or not tomorrow or the next hour or the next minute would be the moment when my mood swung back to a negative space.

In a sense, through constant analysis and worry, I was not ALLOWING myself to indulge in true joy. I still have issues allowing myself to feel this stuff without reservation.

So now we couple that realization with my gender alignment. I like who I see. I allow myself to feel joy.

It turns out I REALLY fucking love dancing.

Let’s use this as an analogue to a lot of things in my life. I’ll start by saying that I care too much what other people think, to the point that I let it dictate not only what I do, but how I enjoy it. I measure the way I talk, the way I move, the way I act, all to appease some projected expectation about what other people expect from me. I’m like an actor, living within the boundaries of a role that I made up in my head. I have always enjoyed dancing. I love dancing at Burning Man. I love dancing at company social functions. I love dancing at furry conventions. And now I love dancing in VR.

Up to these past two weekends, the way I danced was...subdued. It was hard to get out there and do anything other than sway. I’d move and shake and do stuff in rhythm, and I figured I wasn’t too bad. But I never let myself cut loose. Why? I don’t know any dance moves. I don’t know any of these fancy things that the professionals do. And I’m REALLY self-conscious about my fat ass. I may feel like my moves are decent, but I have this absurd certainty that I look like a beached whale flopping on a beach with its last breath. So while I LOVE dance music of all sorts, and I FEEL the music like it’s my own blood, I never let it really take me.

These are restrictions I have placed on myself.

Two weeks ago, there was a dance event in VRChat, and for the first time, I moved like I meant it. I just let go. I felt more free than I had in a while.

Now, part of this was chemical: I was coming off of a pretty bad case of Spiro brain fog, the constant cloudy confusion of a Testosterone blocker that I’d been living with for over a month, and which just seemed to get worse. My doc cut the dose in half, and aside from a brief period of SUPER ADD every morning, I’m doing MUCH better.

So this dance, I’m coming out of this bad place, mentally and physically, and there’s music and lights and MOTION. I was so jazzed about starting to recover from this haze that I just let myself go. I just went with it. The sounds and the sensation and the shared, communal energy just took me.

Look, I thrive off of energy. Music, people, sound, emotion, words, colors, art, environment, it’s all energy. I eat it up. It feels like a sort of hippie thing to say, and you know, that’s fine. Hippies have it right, IMO. Spread this love, because in the end, that’s all we are, energy and star stuff.

I didn’t dance TOO much that weekend. A few hours maybe.

Turns out there was another dance that got planned LAST weekend. HexFurryFest.

Oh boy.

I danced about 4ish hours on Friday, 4ish hours on Saturday, and a probably almost 7 hours on Sunday. I just didn’t stop. By YUR.fit’s account, on Sunday alone I burned over 4000 calories. FOUR THOUSAND.

I let go of what everyone was thinking, I lived in that moment, I let the music take me, and IT FELT FUCKING GREAT.

I’m riding that high. I’ve “discovered” Twitch and this fantastic community of live music and musicians and experience creators. The energy is outrageous. The love is magical. It’s like going to a jazz club, where when you like that shit YOU LET THEM KNOW. The feedback loop is just fucking POWERFUL beyond belief.

I feel it.

What’s more, I feel empowered as a result of all of this.

It’s not that I don’t CARE what people think of me, or how I move, or what I do, or how I act. There are still boundaries and limits and reasonable reactions and actions. But I ACCEPT that you might feel "some way” about me and what I’m doing, and I move on, because this isn’t about you. It’s about me and what I am allowing myself to feel, and how I’m stifling myself and my interactions, and ultimately letting everyone else dictate not just ME, but what makes me happy.

This is true of my music.

This is true of my art.

This is true of the way I speak and present myself.

This is part of my social anxiety.

This is part of my depression.

This is part of who I was.

In some way this feels like one of those “I MADE A REALIZATION, LET’S NOT WORRY ABOUT IT ANYMORE” things, where you have a self-realization and then move on because the endorphins fired off and you feel great for a little while.

I don’t think that’s happening here.

Look, this year has been shit for a lot of people. There’s a lot of folks down and out, and there’s a lot of folks in some pretty dark places.

I’ve had an amazing year. I am very sorry, and I am very cognizant of my privilege, and I thank the stars and the soul of the universe for my good fortune. I have made more friends than at any Furry convention, I have had as much positive social interaction in the past year as I have in the entirety of my adult life, and I do not exaggerate that.

This year has been full of change and discovery, of myself, and of the world around me.

And if this isn’t “That Feeling” that transitioning folks talk about, then I don’t know what is.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS MOTHERFUCKERS

There’s more music this weekend in VRChat. I’m gonna go dance. Come join me.

#transitionblog #transition #transisbeautiful #bipolar #depression #dancing

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golbrocklovely · 5 years ago

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the chosen daughter // colby brock - chapter three

A/N: hey yall! here’s the next chapter. i’m so happy yall are enjoying this story so much. writing this story really gets me in the spooky mood. please let me know what you think. i’d love to hear it. also let me know if you want to be on the taglist. okay, see yall later :)

story description

taglist: @far-to-many-bands , @idfk-tbh-oops , @muted-mayham , @ughwhyislifesohard , @justtanerd , @ashyoungxblood , @cmburgos

trigger warning: cursing, mention of weapons, vampire powers

word count: 2134

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I said, who the hell are you?”

I stared at the two guys in front of me, both pointing weapons. One had light blonde hair that almost covered one of his bright blue eyes. He was dressed in an orange shirt and white pants. In his hand was a crossbow, but instead of a bow inside it, it was a stake. The other one had silver hair that rested just above his dark eyes. Dressed in a black shirt and yellow plaid pants, his weapon of choice was a shotgun.

“Guys, don’t shoot. She’s human.” Mike stated, leaning his back against the couch behind the blonde-haired boy.

When the hell did he get here?

The guys looked at each other and lowered their weapons slightly. “Who is she?”

“Her name is Jade. She’s my friend. And… she knows.” Kevin replied, standing next to the silver-haired boy suddenly.

How did he… never mind.

“She knows about us? How?” Blonde boy asked, his weapon resting at his side.

“I don’t know. But she came in tonight asking about y’all, so she obviously knows something.” Kevin commented.

Silver chimed in. “Did Mike try to see-”

“My powers don’t work on her.” Mike deadpanned.

Silver and Blonde turned to him. “What?!”

Mike shrugged. “Dude, I don’t know. It just doesn’t work.”

“I’m sorry, but what the fuck is going on here?” I exclaimed. “Kevin, who are these two?”

“That’s Sam and that’s Jake.” He pointed at Blonde, and then Silver.

“Dude, why would you tell her our names?” Jake asked.

“She’s already seen your faces and knows about XPLR. Who cares if she knows your name?” Mike retorted.

“Wait… this is XPLR Services?” I questioned, glancing around the apartment.

It was extremely barren, only having two couches, a table, two lamps, and a small kitchen off to the side. The windows were covered in newspapers, not allowing any light from outside in. There were three doors off to the side, most likely bedrooms and a bathroom.

“Yes, this is it.” Sam stepped towards me, putting his hand out. “I’m Sam. Can I ask you how you found out about us?”

I shook his hand, confused. “Yeah… um, this guy X dropped a piece of paper on the ground last night after he saved me.”

“X?” Jake scrunched up his face.

I nodded. “Yeah. He said his name was X.”

Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Colby…”

…Colby?

Sam pulled out his cell phone from his pocket, smacking a couple buttons and then calling someone.

In a hush tone he spoke. “Colby…get the fuck over here now…Yes right now!...Somebody knows about us…no I highly doubt she’s dangerous…just get here soon...but no guns blazing.”

Sam ended his call, looking back up at all of us with a grimace. “He’ll be here in a second.”

A burst of wind came in behind me, the front door slamming open and then closing suddenly. A man stood to the side of me, looking at the group of guys.

“What’s the problem Samuel?” The man queried, his voice deep and familiar. Sam pointed to me and the man turned. I looked at him.

X… or I guess… Colby.

“Why are you here?” Colby questioned.

“We were gonna ask you the same question, ‘X’.” Kevin smirked.

Colby scoffed, facing Kevin. “Why do you think I have something to do with this?”

“She asked for you.” Mike explained.

Colby spun back to me. “How’d you find us?”

“When you left, you dropped a piece of paper. It said XPLR Services and then a phone number. I was gonna call the number but there was no area code, so I couldn’t.” I admitted.

“Dude really? You had our number written down?” Jake chided.

“Sam told me to start giving it out to those that we save.” He turned back to me, stepping forward. “Why were you searching for it, for me, anyway?”

“Someone’s got a stalker…” Kevin joked.

“No. I was just… curious. Besides, what’s the big deal about me knowing about this place? What even is XPLR Services?” I ranted.

“We’re vampire-” Jake started.

“Dude, don’t tell her.” Colby grumbled.

“What’s the harm in telling one person about us?” Jake suggested.

Colby sighed. “If we get caught, I can only protect you for so long.”

“We’ll be fine.” Sam chimed in.

Colby hissed. “But we don’t know her. What if she’s-”

“I mean, there’s no way to know anyway. No one’s powers work on her.” Sam insisted.

“Not even yours?” Colby pointed to Mike.

Mike shook his head. “Nope. Kevin’s didn’t work either, but she was able to guess what it was without it affecting her.”

“What is she, a witch?” Colby guessed.

“They don’t exist.” Kevin spoke.

“We’re vampire hunters.” Sam interjected, looking at me.

“Sam… really?” Colby groaned.

“What? She’s been here for like ten minutes and hasn’t done anything. She’s not evil or out to get us, otherwise we would already be dead meat. I’m tired of hiding out and pretending, brother. Telling one person, one human, isn’t gonna end us.” Sam dictated.

“…It’s your funeral.” Colby deadpanned. He walked over to the kitchen and hopped up, sitting on the counter.

“Vampire hunters? I didn’t know that was a thing.” I stated.

“Technically it’s not. It’s against the law, especially in California. We could go to prison for what we’re doing.” Jake informed.

“So, XPLR Services is a… vampire hunting business.” I confirmed.

Sam nodded. “Exactly.”

“But… three out of the five of you are vampires?” I questioned.

“We only hunt vampires that harm humans. Ones that assault or go after humans for sport.” Mike answered.

“Oh, so, like the one that attacked me last night.” I implied.

“Yeah,” Colby interrupted, turning to the rest of the group. “He was the one hunting on Hamilton Street a couple weeks back. That was just his night off.”

“So, you keep this all hidden because it’s illegal.” I commented.

Kevin declared. “And because we don’t want to mess with the Elders.”

I crossed my arms, confused. “Who are the Elders?”

“Good question. No one knows for certain but essentially, they are the first created vampires. They’re most powerful and the hardest to kill. The older a vampire is, the stronger they are. Most Elder vampires are high up in the government and society so offing them or even alluding to being a hunter could get us killed.” Jake disclosed.

“And God knows no police or human authority is going to be able to bring them to justice, so killing is easy for them. We’re just here to get rid of the lower ranked ones, preferably unnoticed.” Colby finished, staring me down. I raised an eyebrow at him.

Sam smiled, finally looking at me. “Does that answer all of your questions?”

“…For the most part.” I responded. “I promise I won’t tell anyone your secret. I don’t exactly have anyone to tell anyway.”

“You better not.” Colby snapped.

“Colby… chill.” Sam addressed me again. “Why don’t I take you home?”

“Okay. Thanks.” I muttered, a tight-lipped smile resting on my face.

He nodded his head and strolled towards a door by the kitchen, going inside. Jake, Mike, and Kevin all sat on the couch and talked quietly to each other. I stood awkwardly by the door, waiting for Sam.

Suddenly Colby came over to me, lightly grabbing my arm. “Listen here. Sam is my best friend and my family. So is Jake, Mike, and Kevin. I don’t know if you’re good or not.”

“I am.” I demurred.

“Say that all you want, but I will never know since my power can’t tell.” Colby continued. “You need to know that telling a single person about XPLR could put all of us in harms way. Jake and Sam are human, just like you. They may be great fighters and hunters, but they can get hurt and die. I will not allow that to happen.”

“Okay.” I mumbled.

“If that means I have to go against my own beliefs, I will kill you to protect them. Do you understand?” His grip tightened on my arm, his fangs springing from his mouth.

How was he attractive even now?

I rolled my eyes, annoyed at myself and Colby. “Put your fangs away. You’re not scary.”

His hand slid from my arm as I stood up straighter. “I won’t tell anyone. Trust me.”

“I don’t.” His eyes bore into mine, turning red for a split second.

“You ready to go?” Sam hummed, a sweet look coming to his face.

“Yeah. Thank you.” I smiled back. “Nice meeting you Mike and Jake. I’ll see you later, Kevin.”

“Same to you Jade.” Jake waved.

Colby glared at me as I waved at him, smirking. Sam placed his hand on my lower back as we walked to his car. We stayed silent until he began to drive.

Sam spoke suddenly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” I murmured.

“How do vampire powers not work on you?” He questioned.

I shrugged. “I have no idea. It’s always been this way, even well before vampires came out to the public.”

“That’s crazy. I wish I had that. It would be so much easier fighting.” He chuckled.

“How often do you fight vamps?” My gaze landed on him.

“Weekly. Sometimes daily. It really depends on how shitty vampires want to be.” Sam confessed.

“Can I ask you something now?” I responded.

Sam nodded his head, not speaking.

“You seem like an awfully chipper person. How the fuck did you meet X – I mean, Colby?” I sassed.

“I didn’t exactly meet Colby. He met me.” Sam joked, his voice changing suddenly. “He saved me.”

“Really?” I cocked my head to the side.

“Yeah. A couple years ago, when I had just came out to LA, I was attacked by a group of vamps. He saved me from them.” Sam affirmed.

He continued. “But if it makes you feel any better, he was equally as bitter towards me as he is to you. It’s just how he is when he’s first getting to know someone. At least with me, he saw I was a good person. With you… he can’t. So he’s probably extra…”

“Colby.” I jeered.

He laughed. “Right.”

“Why did he say his name was X?” I wondered out loud.

A light smile rested on Sam’s face. “It was a nickname I gave him. When he first saved me, he didn’t tell me his name. So I called him Xenoparochus, X for short.”

“Xeno what?” I sputtered.

“It’s Latin. It means ‘a person who provides for strangers’. I was really into Latin at the time.” He confided.

Nothing else could fall from my lips besides one word. “Oh.”

“It’s kinda why we called our ‘company’ XPLR. Also, because we both love to travel, but we don’t get to do that often.”

“How did you guys meet Jake? And Mike? And Kevin?”

“We saved Jake on one of our first hunts, and immediately afterwards he wanted in. Mike and Kevin, we became friends with from hanging out at the Trapp Haus. Eventually we told them about our company, and they were cool with it. So, me and Colby live above the Trapp Haus. Kevin, Mike, and Jake live together in an apartment not too far away.” Sam explained.

“That’s great that you all are so close.” I conceded.

Sam pulled into the parking lot of my apartment building, parking in an empty spot. “It took a long time to get to where we are, but I’m glad I have them all in my life.”

“Especially Colby.” I replied.

“Yeah. He’s my family.” Sam muttered.

Silence fell over us for a moment. “Um… thanks for driving me home.”

“Let me walk you to your door.” Sam spoke, getting out of the car.

“Oh, you don’t have-” Before I could finish, Sam closed his door and walked over to mine, opening it. I took his hand and nodded a ‘thank you’ as we walked to the elevator, getting in.

“I want you to have this. It’s my phone number.” He handed me a piece of paper.

“Isn’t Colby gonna be pissed?” I raised an eyebrow at him, the elevator coming to a stop on my floor.

Sam smiled, following me down the hallway to my place. “Probably. But when isn’t he? I want you to have it in case something goes wrong.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.” We finally came to a stop at my door.

As I unlocked my door, I waved at him. “Have a good night.”

“You too.” Sam saluted lazily, slowly starting to walk away.

I flicked the lights on, glancing around my apartment hastily. My eyes widen as my mouth went dry. “Uh Sam?!”

“Yeah?” Sam stopped, turning back to me.

“Something went wrong.”

<< CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 4 >>

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