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fancoloredglasses · 5 months ago

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Race For Your Life, Charlie Brown (who is running this camp?!), part 1

[All images are owned by Paramount and Peanuts Worldwide. Please don’t sue me or send me to this camp]

[All video clips are courtesy of Rotten Tomatoes]

With summer starting, parents need to figure out what to do with their kids since school is no longer an option. Popular options are…

Take time off of work to take family vacations (see the Nation Lampoon’s Vacation franchise for examples of how this could go horribly wrong)

If the kids are old enough, make them get summer jobs

If they’re too young to be employed, but old enough to be trusted alone, let them stay home

If parents want to see their kids, but don’t trust them to stay home, they could send them to a day camp and pick them up after work

Then there’s the subject of this review from the mid-70s: If the parents want the summer off from their kids, they could ship them off to summer camp.

We will assume that most of you are familiar with Peanuts (or at least the Charlie Brown holiday specials) At the very least I reviewed one based on a movie about burlesque dancing), but just in case…

Peanuts was a daily comic strip created by Charles Shultz in 1950 and ran until shortly before his death in 2000. Schultz always hated the title (he originally named it Li’l Folks, but that name was already copyrighted so the publisher came up with the name that endured), which is why none of the animated shows, specials, and movies didn’t use the title until after Schultz’s death (every single one before had the main character’s name in the title) While the core cast hasn’t changed much over the years, minor characters have come and gone. The characters important to this review are…

Charlie Brown is the epitome of the downtrodden. He is laughed at by those he thinks of as friends, gets no respect from most (including his dog), and almost never comes out on top. For whatever reason, he is always (with one notable exception) referred to by his full name, rather than just his first.

Charlie Brown’s little sister Sally has all the red flags of a Karen-in-Training. She constantly complains about how Life Isn’t Fair to get her way (she once whined her way into getting a grade raised)

Lucy van Pelt is best described as the sociopath of the group. She absolutely has to be the center of attention and delights in tormenting Charlie Brown (especially with Charlie Brown kicking a football, constantly pulling it away at the last second so Charlie Brown lands flat on his back (she once did so during a football game in which Charlie Brown’s kick meant the difference between winning and losing. Three guesses who got blamed for the loss))

Lucy’s little brother Linus is likely the wisest of the gang. He has a dependency on his baby blanket, carrying it everywhere. He is also the target of Sally’s crush, much to his chagrin (she often refers to Linus as her “Sweet Baboo”)

Schroeder is a musical prodigy who worships the works of Beethoven. He carries around a pint-sized grand piano that he can play virtually anything on from memory. Lucy had decided that he is the man she’ll marry, no matter what he says (I say she’ll wind up settling for Charlie Brown)

Snoopy is Charlie Brown’s pet beagle. He walks like a human, acts like a human, and does everything humans do except talk (because THAT was where Schultz drew the line)

Snoopy’s best friend is Woodstock (yes, he was named after what you think he was named after) Woodstock can barely fly straight, but is eternally cheerful.

Franklin is…look, there’s no easy way to put this. He’s the token black kid. He was added to the comic strip in response to Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassination. Unfortunately, he’s generally not treated well in animation. If he’s not being outright ignored, he’s being stereotypically black (such as break dancing) or segregated (in A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving, for example, he was the only kid on his side of the table while all of the white kids were on the other side)

Peppermint Patty is a tomboy and…well, she’s pretty much a Force of Nature. She pretty much gets everyone to do what she wants by not letting anyone get a word in edgewise. Fortunately, she’s (mostly) well-meaning, if a bit dense at times (she’s the only member of the gang who doesn’t realize Snoopy’s a dog) I’m not sure if she has a crush on Charlie Brown (or as she calls him, “Chuck”) or if she enjoys watching his squirm (interestingly, he doesn’t object despite clearly being uncomfortable about it)

Marcy is Peppermint Patty’s best friend and chief foil. Marcy is very soft-spoken, but is the first one to call Peppermint Patty on her strong-arm BS. For whatever reason, she refers to Peppermint Patty as “sir” (a large portion of the fans have a head canon that they’re in a relationship)

Now that we have the cast, on with the show! If you would like to watch the movie, it’s available behind your favorite paywall.

We open (in the credits) with the gang on a bus on their way to camp, with Snoopy not far behind on his “hawg” (that he’s never had before or since) I’m VERY curious what’s up with the landscape around the suburb they live in, they go through forest as the credits roll, then it immediately turns into desert.

As the credits end, the bus passes by a gas station with a pair of kids hanging out by the pump for some reason. Sally waves at them, but the girl blows a razzberry at her.

Sally gets her wish as the bus gets a blowout immediately after. The driver (that we don’t see; one thing about Peanuts is you never actually SEE the adults...and if you hear them, they say “MWAH WAH WAH WAH”) fixes the flat while Sally marches right up to the girl and…

…immediately backs down and slinks back onto the bus.

Later, the bus stops at another gas station to refuel (they couldn’t do so while fixing the flat?), so the gang takes the opportunity to stretch their legs. Charlie Brown gets distracted talking to Snoopy and…

What kind of bus driver doesn’t take a head count before leaving?!

Fortunately, Snoopy has room on his hawg and gives Charlie Brown a ride. Unfortunately, Snoopy decides to take a “short cut” through some of the roughest patches in the desert, making Charlie Brown close to getting sick by the time they arrive (behind the bus, so what was the point of all of that?)

…and suddenly we’re in the middle of the woods again.

While staggering around and desperately trying not to vomit, Charlie Brown accidentally bumps into three older kids (bullies) who immediately take a disliking to him.

Fortunately, the PA (with a kid at the mic. Are there no adults that are more qualified?) announces registration has begun so Charlie Brown can excuse himself before the bullies can feed him to their cat. Unfortunately, they run into him again when they cut the line and Sally tries to sic Charlie Brown on them.

(Yeah, like that would work)

Fortunately, Linus is there to Save The Day.

Later, as everyone fills out their registration forms (shouldn’t they have done that BEFORE they crossed a desert to come here?) Sally bitches about it, so Peppermint Patty waxes philosophical about the need to leave your comfort zone.

(…and people wonder why the fandom thinks Peppermint Patty and Marcie are a couple)

After filling out their forms, the gang heads for their tents (the boys in one, the girls in the other…

…and Snoopy in his own)

In the girls�� tent, Peppermint Patty suggests that they run things in a democratic fashion, including voting for a leader. Of course, Peppermint Patty has the election won, since we all know Marcie will vote for her.

So with everyone voting for themselves, Peppermint Patty decides she should cast the deciding vote…for herself (wait, there are more than four beds. Don’t the other girls in the tent get a say?)

That evening…

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Nothing like roughing it, eh Snoopy?

The next morning…

PA kid has the campers out for morning calisthenics, followed by breakfast and morning activities (no, I’m not doing a montage. It’s as boring as it sounds) Then lunch happens.

Maybe Sally should complain to the manager.

After lunch…

The bullies are at it again.

…but they forgot about Linus.

PA Kid then announces that the Camp Games (pitting all of the tents against one another) will begin. Naturally…

…the bullies cheat. Where are the adults who are supposed to be keeping things fair?

WHO IS RUNNING THIS CAMP?!

As the gang sulks about losing to a bunch of cheaters, PA Kid announces the Main Event of the summer.

The other tents know they don’t stand a chance, meaning there are only four competitors: the boys (sporting a raft held afloat by four inner tubes), the girls (in an inflatable life raft), Snoopy and Woodstock (in a single inner tube) and the bullies, who are competing in this monstrosity…

…complete with radar, sonar, and an outboard motor. You know, if they can afford this contraption, why are they slumming it at Camp Remote?

The teams spend all afternoon inflating their rafts…

…only for the bullies to use that air to inflate theirs overnight. (I guess the electric air pump was a bit more than they could afford)

The next morning, the teams must once again inflate their rafts before the race begins and they all set out (if a bit winded)

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[At this point, I would like to point out that the bullies act like every cartoon villain in every race ever: They have the means to get far ahead of the competition, and would likely win the race by several miles, but they need to take the time to cheat and “prove” their superiority]

That evening, the bullies manage to pry their raft out from under the dock and sneak past the other teams as they sleep until they come to…

They then flip the sign so it points in the opposite direction.

Wait, they scheduled an unsupervised race involving kids at a time when there’s blasting happening?!

WHO THE HELL IS RUNNING THIS CAMP?!

Later in the evening, it starts snowing (Hang on. It’s SNOWING in the middle of summer in a forest next to a fucking desert?!) The next morning Woodstock has some fun at Snoopy’s expense.

With that bit of levity out of the way the race continues, and they come to the bullies’ trap.

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Despite being nearly pulverized by falling rocks, the channel proved to be a short cut as the gang emerges ahead of the bullies (no doubt sleeping in, knowing they no longer have any competition)

As the bullies rush to catch up…

…a massive storm hits, threatening to sink all of the rafts! (Wait, no one bothered to check the weather report before the race?)

In fact, Snoopy’s tube capsizes, sending both he an Woodstock into the river! Snoopy manages to swim back to his tube, but Woodstock is lost in the water!

WILL Woodstock survive? (I’m sure he’ll be fine. I mean, he was in specials and the comic strip that were published after this)

WHO will win the race?

WHO THE FUCK IS RUNNING THIS CAMP?!?!?!

These questions and more will be answered in the exciting conclusion!

#peanuts #charlie brown #snoopy #peppermint patty #summer camp #river rafting #fan colored glasses

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spurgie-cousin · 2 years ago

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Earlier this week I unexpectedly lost a really good family friend that I had known for most of my life. It hurts. But there is now a special kind of hurt because over the two past years I’ve started a transition out of the high demand religion I was raised in. This is the first death in my circle that has happened since that transition started. I feel like I used to know all the answers to life’s unknown questions. Don’t get me wrong that religion sucked and I’m still dealing with trauma from it but there was a certain level of comfort knowing that I “knew the answers and reasons for trials.”

This might be too personal of a question so feel free to not answer it but. How did you deal with difficult moments of life outside of the religion you were raised in? You don’t have to tell me exactly what your beliefs are because I know they might be private.

But

For the first time in my life I feel lost with these type of things. This is really hard I don’t know how to deal with this.

It’s much more difficult when you can’t just turn something into a mini Sunday school lesson and explain it away with Jesus and God’s will. This is an area of life I didn’t even think about while transitioning out of this religion.

(cw: death, also long post incoming)

Well first I'm so so sorry for your loss ❤️second this is a really great question and I think for me this was the hardest part of transitioning out of religion. I had a few big losses in the years after I officially stopped considering myself Christian, it was a very strange and painful time and I felt super alone because I was the only non-Christian in my immediate circle at the time.

My best advice for starting is to not worry so much about the details right now and just sit with your feelings to try and see where they lead you. Whatever feels healing in the moment, try to do that.......maybe it's sharing memories with someone else who knew them, maybe it's writing a letter to the person you lost about your feelings, maybe it's even praying or going through familiar rituals, whatever it is focus on getting through the hard part right now and worry about the Big Questions later. You don't have to have all the answers right this second, it's ok to just focus on your grief and honoring your friend.

One thing I've learned from talking to other ex-religious folks from any type of belief system is that everyone learns to cope differently and it doesn't have to look any specific way. That for me has ultimately been a way more fulfilling way to grieve in the long run, because there are no rules.........some people find peace and even comfort within the uncertainty, some people adopt new belief systems or rituals that feel more genuine to them, it all just kind of depends on where your journey to finding your own authenticity leads you. For me the biggest thing that helped me do that early on was finding people in similar situations to talk to and I really recommend that, because there are a lot of them out there and they're just as eager to talk and commiserate, I promise lol.

I don't mind getting a little corny and talking about my world view tbh. I will say, dropping the Heaven or Hell binary was one of the most healing things for me in the long run. That was always such a psychological stressor for me and I now find it way more comforting to admit I don't know what happens after death than to wonder if my loved one might be suffering for all eternity for the rest of my life. With not knowing, the possibilities are endless when it comes to the Big Questions ya know.........it's become almost exciting?

Not saying I'm stoked to die or anything lol but giving up all my preconceived notions about life, death, and the *universe* has been transformative in a way I can't really articulate properly. I'm able to relate to everything and everyone in a way that feels so much deeper and more authentic than it did before, I don't feel separate from it but part of a larger, incredible thing that just.........is. I don't know how it got here or why but I do know that I'm an integral part of it all and so is every living or unliving thing it seems, and for me that brings me a lot of peace. It seems to me like something people have understood since there have been people and spent eons trying to name and personally, I'm ok with it not having a name and an agenda. I feel like when people are tapped into that connection they are able to be the best versions of themselves, and sometimes that can happen through religion, but it doesn't have to.

And when someone passes now I focus on the things I feel I know for certain: it mattered that they were here and it matters that they're gone, because we're part of the same whole. Whatever happens afterward is unknowable and could be amazing or could be an experience we can't even conceive of with our human brains or it could be nothing but we can't know until we get there and I think that's the way it's meant to be.

#well now im in my feelings at 2pm on this friday #religion #ex religious #ex christian #exvangelical #my shit

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kim-monsterlings · 4 years ago

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Cathair - M Kelpie x F Human (Reader) // NSFW

The pictures do not belong to me. I only created the mood board. Do not repost my work anywhere.

Content: NSFW/Lemon; childhood friends, mentions of inflicted harm to reader (near drowning, scar on left upper arm), minor angst, allusions to death, growing fluff, hugging and intimate embraces, kissing, receiving oral, fading out/allusions to more NSFW - if there is anything else anyone would like added, let me know <3

Wordcount: 5292

Faebruary Summary: after abandoning your childhood home, the memory of your kelpie and your feelings for him draw you back

Notes: apologies for this being so delayed! I had some time off at the beginning of the year, but the lovely Cathair is finally here. I hope you love him! <3

Masterlist // Faebruary Masterlist

Gentle embraces left dark impressions on your back from grieving family; grieving in anticipation, as you travelled the miles to your hometown. Their farewells - certain they would be an eternal goodbye, rang as your only company the closer you came to your abandoned house near the valley.

Crowded by the creeping tree line, it rested abandoned for years. Only faint memory beckoned you through brambles to the smallest clearing, a far way from the closest bus stop, that itself farther from the train station.

Packing light hadn't eased the burden of returning, though you wouldn't stay long. The guise of wanting to pack up your old things would wane after several days, and if that hadn't yet exhausted you, the trial of rekindling what you remembered as more than friendship with the woodland kelpie would.

If he hadn't drowned you by then.

Somehow, your home still stood. Neglected and damaged but there all the same. Untouched without your needing to check: this land cursed by folk wasn't sought after. It had always been your family's, no matter how disputed by the creatures rarely emerging from their murky rivers.

Yet you went in the hopes of finding the kelpie. Your sister's wishing for your wellbeing manifested in delicately crafted charms. Blair's wards were useless against the likes of man-eating creatures, and only somewhat effective against true fae. It hung all the same, like the silver bridle fell at your kelpie's throat across the clearing.

It was only right for Cathair to guard his territory.

Standing before you like a daydream, the dark horse pawed with gnarled hooves before your old home. Too far to see the unforgettable glow in his blackened eyes, the glinting moss tangled in a thick mane danced in the soft wind. The sense of unease at being so close to him twisted your navel, though not from fear like it once had; from pain at seeing him after so long, and now wanting to flee.

With a deep dig at the damp earth, Cathair moved. Faint sunlight glinted along his flank, an eerie sheen forcing your stare down. Today, you wouldn't challenge him. Not so soon, with a low breath close enough to chill through to your bones.

Jagged teeth snapped not far from your shoulder: a warning, and one you wouldn't heed. He passed with a scent so familiar you nearly reached out, desperate for the rush of warmth his thin frame could bring when curled around you.

Instead, you settled for looking back when he left to the trees. "I missed you, Cathair."

With the swish of his tail, the faint scar on your left arm ached. The light of the clearing vanished into the woods too, away from you and nearer the body of deep water a short walk away; close enough someone could run off unnoticed. How cold it was rushed back to you. The emptiness beneath the surface drove you into the untouched house, onto old floorboards creaking with every step.

You had given yourself three days. Optimistic, Blair said. She gave you an hour, whispered onto your shoulder as she saw you off.

If he came near enough to question why, after so long hiding, after years of silence from disappearing late in the night, your excuse would be the same you told your family, though nobody believed it. You wondered if he would cling to the lie and hope you left again.

The same mess waited indoors, of scattered possessions too insignificant, left behind while the mark of a kelpie stung fresh on your arm, and his kin, your friend, chased you away as you ran.

If he came closer again, you would tell him the truth. That Cathair's brutality in defending you as you nearly drowned hadn't forced you away, but his family had. It was the fault of his brother for seeking you out and dragging you down the banks into cold water. Cathair saved you.

The fresh bedsheets almost smelled like him.

Coming home brought a sleep long into the morning. Even as a lie, you still began sifting through old diaries, some with handwriting far harder to read than the delicate script from your family. This curled and looped inconsistently, signed by the little boy with dark hair, always your shadow in photographs pinned to the pages.

The photos told the same stories of the friendship you remembered, while your sister preferred the safety of indoors until night, when the child with a smile wider and brighter than yours returned to the woods. They told of you both growing up, just out of reach of Cathair's family - before his brother came from the waters in his footsteps.

By the time your back ached from leaning over faded pages, it was late afternoon. The groove deep outside the threshold hadn't been crossed. Even left untouched, the figure lurking in the forest darted closer. Out of view, but there.

Here.

The empty bag on your shoulder swung when you reached for your phone, unsurprised to find the call from Blair. You'd told her of your arrival, reassuring her - and everyone she would then turn to, that you hadn't yet been stolen by fae folk.

Surviving the night was different, and her breath caught on the other end when you answered with, "I'm alive and unharmed. You can stop checking on me."

"Never," she said, her small, light laugh rushing over you. "Is it still standing?"

"Barely."

The doorframe held beneath your shoulder. Blair replied, something quiet and nonsense. This was all padding until she could pester for more and as she fretted, you looked to the sheen of moss along the kelpie's mane, cautiously stepping from the trees.

"Hello?"

"Sorry. I'm here," you said, and your sister cleared her throat.

Blair spoke softer, as though knowing where your focus drifted in the pause. "His necklace," she said and even through the trees, the slight reflection of the bridle glinted low on the kelpie's chest. "Have you broken him?"

"He doesn't need breaking. He never has." Her sigh followed yours. Cathair held steady among the trees as you came to stand further from the door, and a part of you hoped he heard as you said, "I trust him."

"You trust the kin of the kelpie who tried to drown you?"

His ears twitching may have been coincidence before, but the rising of his head couldn't be. Your stare held. "With my life."

There was little more to say to one another. They disapproved and you didn't care. The impasse was as old as you, so you promised to speak later - to reassure her that you were still alive with a promise you would be home soon, before shrugging your bag right and drawing in a breath.

"Cathair?"

Hooves stepped forth. Still not the form you wished for - not the sweet embrace, the lilting charm inherent in folk - but the dark horse revealing himself completely now still tripped your pulse.

"Hi," you whispered, quiet, but he heard as well as he heard your call, his tail whipping. "Is it just you? Not... not your family?"

His muzzle twisted. With the inherent threat, you had to swallow a laugh. It only lured you further from the safety of your home. This creature, this gentle kelpie responsible for saving your life, wouldn’t harm you, and still, the land hadn't disturbed your rest. A family of kelpies would've sought the first trespassing human out in a night, or less.

Cathair's head fell low. Yes. Only him.

Nothing betrayed the fate of his family, even as his ears continued twitching back. However they came to leave their land, whatever chased them or otherwise, it was well-deserved. Your deep scar ached as you reached to scratch it, drawing sharpened eyes before the shadows embraced enshrouded again.

Branches parted for his wide form and created a path you followed. It veered down to the water, the path well-trodden - one you remembered clear enough, from only one journey down - but you turned away.

Unfamiliar faces watched you walk through the town you once called home. The few you remembered, friends you thought of as family, like distant cousins, had followed yours in moving away from land plagued by folk, and you busied yourself in buying the supplies you needed for the rest of your stay, if not a little extra, too.

You were home within the hour, bag weighed down by fresh food, a small first aid kit - as a precaution, and a heavy bundle of meat in your arms. If there hadn't been a curled horse before your home, the fresh scent would've enticed him from the water.

"Did you miss me?" His head lifted, only enough to narrow at the bundle. The trembling energy tight in your stomach pulled you closer. "Did you think I'd leave so soon?"

Cathair rose, though you held steady; you had to. Muscles locked as the creature with unnatural jaws crept closer, your throat tight. Hot breaths fanned across your face, the kelpie standing well over you. Like this, the allure of his bridle made your fingers twitch.

If he were human, nothing would have stopped you from leaning into him.

Instead, you lifted your chin. "Want an apple?"

Dark ears twitched forward, a faint green to his coat enough for your fingers to curl against reaching for him. This close, even looking at his chain was a feat itself; any other kelpie would have reared back from the looming threat of subjugation. Extending your hand never made you fear an extra nip to your fingertips, but still, your breath caught. Only a slight lean closer and you would be near enough to snatch the bridle away, trapping him as he was now.

You wanted him back, not trapped.

One huff and the apple lifted from your palm, snatched by a jaw opening too far, flesh jagged like his teeth.

"You're welcome," you teased. His tail twitched but he didn't move. When his head lowered, you couldn't help smiling. Cathair nudged his muzzle against your empty palm, nickering softly. "If you come back later, there may be spare meat for you."

Reaching out had been ambitious. Cathair darted back before you could stroke his long mane and when he faded without turning, the constriction in your chest drew tighter.

Banishing him from your thoughts wasn't so easy now you were no longer far from him. Out of sight perhaps, but only minutes from where you fretted over long-settled dust. It passed the time, to trace old etches into walls from hours playing with your sister, until it darkened enough outside that a faint glow from beyond the door beckoned you.

That same glow haunted your nightmares after leaving, but soothed you again when you woke, finding comfort in the kelpie who had drawn you from the murky waters rather than sacrificing you to his kin.

That need for comfort ached through you and it had been long enough after forcing yourself to eat something that you reached for a jacket. Not one breath from closing the door at your back, Cathair distanced himself. Water clung to his coat with a tangling of water reeds, knotted and thick. His tail swished at your approach but the unmistakable flaring of his nostrils brought you closer, beginning to smile.

"Sit with me." Without looking to affirm what the coil in your stomach told you - that every scuffle of hooves was another further from you, the two wrapped bundles captivated him. "Please."

Before you, he wouldn't eat. Not like this and not the meat remaining bundled in its wrapping. Cathair joined you, though. Remaining a fair distance and so far your fingertips tingled, forced into your lap and busied by reaching for your snack, in the hope he would join you not like this.

Faced with a kelpie now, heat crept along your cheekbones. That Cathair came at all held you from retreating.

"My sister says hi," you began, picking at one half of the sandwiches, the one intended for you. His ears flicked. "They all do."

And it wasn’t a lie so much as a twisted truth. They missed being here, not necessarily him. Had the rush of hot air not been enough to signify his irritation, the short whinny was plenty. Best not to inform him of their predictions for your improbable journey home.

You pushed the bundle to your back and inched closer. "Have you been alone all this time? Is your family... are they gone?" Head lifting, he nickered as he had that afternoon and even quieter than him, you whispered, "thank you." For saving me.

Whatever laid at the bottom of his territory - whatever was left to, was none of your concern. The kelpie unsettled was, who only shivered worse at your nearing again.

"I wanted to visit. Often. If you had chased me away again," your jaw locked against the words. "It would have broken me, Cathair. Did you miss me, too?"

Not one twitch appeased you. Not one turn to his ears nor stretch of his torn muzzle eased the pang in your chest, thudding like a rib had cracked. The press of your fist into your stomach didn’t lessen it, either.

The curl to your lips wasn't much a smile, reaching your cheeks but not your eyes. Every forced breath scratched your throat. "It's late. Don't you ignore me, okay?"

He remained still while your muscles barely held beneath you. The bundle rested nearer him with every step towards the cabin.

And with every breath taken further from him, the truth in Blair's pleas for you to stay throbbed in your temples. How could you know if Cathair had wanted you to return? If the same kelpie who ensured you left his land longed for you, too, then his snapping jaws wouldn't have mirrored the jaws of his kin when dragging your drowning body under the surface.

If it was nothing more than a wilful fantasy, the soft groan at your back was a hallucination. Rougher pants and deeper grunts spurred your heart into a flurry. While he underwent a change so torturous you could only imagine, you clutched the doorframe with white knuckles for support.

Without an audible footstep, heat pressed to your back. Hastened breaths nestled against your hair, lips pressing to your crown. It strained your senses when he whispered your name, with his arms creeping around your waist and drawing you to him, back from the door.

Grooves to his palm tickled brushing to yours. Cathair slid his fingers down, and swayed when you softened to his chest. Turning as far as his shoulder, your kissed the pale skin, gently first, before returning the favour and stealing a breath of his scent.

Kelpies hardly changed far from humans, and he had been so alone. The embrace eased your tremors to little more than a whisper at his chest. "Will you come inside?"

He only hummed low, breathing, "no."

So simple, yet one syllable broke you. He held you from turning completely, his fingertips stroking the backs of your hands. "Why not?"

"No," he said. Large palms fell to run down your thighs and against your hips, binding you to him. Familiar muscle from his bare frame tensed and the press of a chain dug into your back. "Not alone with you."

Before you asked again, his touch flitted against your upper arm. The tracing of your scar left you paralysed long after his return into the woods.

No matter how far you dared venture along the same path he followed, no flitting shadow rose. No prints from hooves or bare feet led you to him but that scar ached how it never had before.

The softest touch from a window left open along your arm cradled you in your sleep, tricking you into believing he finally came to you. Old nights of the window opening wide enough for a slender frame to sneak indoors came to mind and the wind mimicked his embrace, careful, and always cold.

But he hadn't come inside. He wouldn't.

Little remained to sort through. Meaningless and pointless now to complete, yet you wasted the day sifting through them. Some - sketchbooks, usually - settled with smeared prints, like someone had traced where you had before leaving. You ran over the jagged edges left from torn pages, matching the paper you had rushed to carry away; portraits of him, old messages passed in notebooks. More pages were missing, though.

Maybe the faint scent lingering on old bedsheets hadn't been just wishful thoughts.

Only for fresh air, you cracked the door open late that night. To find bright eyes fixated on you frightened you back, staggering against the frame, forgetting in that second who watched.

He never faltered.

Guilt gnawed at you the longer you stood in the doorway, but you wouldn't go further with his heavy tail swishing, no doubt his sharp teeth bared if you approached now, so late.

"Cathair," you whispered, and his dark form moved with a trembling shudder. "I'll leave soon. Just... just come in, and sleep warm. I feel bad enough as it is." When fae folk made no move to come closer, you sighed and let the door close, calling, "goodnight."

Collapsing onto the cushions in the dark living room was followed by chills creeping over you. With the land of a kelpie came an unease, a familiarity haunting every sight. Not every night could be so peaceful and you tossed restlessly, until the first rap of the door felt more like your thoughts taunting you than reality.

For one, slow step indoors, your intended bed for the night hadn't been within his line of sight, but Cathair turned only to you. The door closed at his back and he crept closer, bare from the hips up - clad only in torn fabric hanging from his thighs, hardly covering him. Soft light cast a gentler glow on him now, along the dark hairs of his chest, the impression of bone ghosting his thin frame. You longed to touch him where you used to, along the curve of his collarbones, where you once toyed with his necklace without ever contemplating breaking him.

Blair would tell you to snatch it from him, to bring him to his knees. You would have him, your Cathair, then, but he wouldn’t be the same - not trapped and enslaved.

You couldn’t move. When he fell before you to his knees, a hand rising slowly, you relished in the familiar heat leaning over you. Moss-thickened hair framed sharp features, clinging to his pale flesh. Beneath that silken hair, thin slits to his neck flattened now on land. He touched your cheek with slow, deep breaths.

Then he softened, fingertips running down your throat. "You are too comfortable around me."

It was too late for an argument, any debate - and it would be a fight. You wouldn't stop until Cathair welcomed you like he used to, with his smile unnaturally wide and long arms curling you close, but now was too late, too dark in your moon-lit lounge.

This may have been the first time Cathair came through the door in your presence. It was unheard of for a kelpie to pine after a human, but to follow through; to slip into your bed and kiss you, careful to hide his daggered teeth, only enticed his family. It made you a challenge.

The cushion became your pillow after you kissed his palm and his touch fell back. With the room dark and your trust implicit, you closed your eyes. As hesitant as to your cheek, his fingertips fell down your waist.

"There is room for two here," you whispered. "Room for two in the bed. In our-"

His chest warmed beneath your cheek and with each careful stride nearer the bedroom once shared in secret, his heart beat harder under your temple. The weight of his bridle tucked near your crown, hanging heavy from his throat but you rested by his shoulder rather than risk hurting him.

"I do miss you," you said quietly. Your hand stroked down the slope of his chest, hugging him closer. “I really do.”

His breath warmed your cheek. "You're tired."

"Tired of wishing you stayed."

Cathair stiffened around you for the slightest moment. "I never left."

The first bend to his knees came and you made to lean back, only for a rough grunt to choke in his throat. He held you close until the bedsheets made space before laying you back, lingering only to tuck back your hair.

"Cathair-"

"Goodnight."

The lithe muscles to his back rippled at your fingers on his wrist. His arm to your lips made him swallow hard, the kiss softening just below his elbow, where the scar forever wounding your arm rested.

"Will you stay? Stay on the sofa."

He turned, a kiss returned to your palm, a hint of a small smile, before the bedroom door closed. The fleeting skim of teeth warmed your stomach in a rush of everything but fear.

You woke at the front door closing.

Blair, in the least, didn't approve. Your parents wouldn't be told of your late night visit, and you couldn't promise your sister it wouldn't happen again. Not as you tightened your coat around your chest and followed the path laid by hooves.

Thick boots couldn't steady you over damp earth and fallen leaves. With every step from your home, the woods quieted. Bird songs softened until your steps alone rang in the air.

That pool left you frozen, the creature within looking so much like another pale-bodied being that strength escaped you. Several years before, that cold water rushed into your lungs. How he could swim in it, live in it, reminded you of the nature of the man wading deeper.

And still, you would give anything to be with him again.

The figure waist-deep tilted his head. Thin hair floated with the murky water, rippling against the shadows of his lithe muscles.

"When will you leave?"

The invitation back indoors fell silent at your lips. Cathair held his palms where water ran, a glimmer from his chain against the surface. He strode deeper in your silence, up to his shoulders blades. Following him even into deserted waters, no matter your trust, couldn't happen today, and he crept to his throat.

"You said you would leave me again. Soon. So," he murmured, head tipping back, moss clinging to his crown. "Go."

Before he fell, before he returned to pretending you weren't here, you dug your feet deeper into the ground. "I'm here. You forced us out, too," you called, harsh and unsympathetic to the sudden locking of his muscles. "I wanted to be with you, Cathair. I want...” When your words trembled, the sting rose to blur your vision. "Send me away. I won't come back again."

Halfway home, your foot fell from a loose stone. The soft whisper of your name on the wind beckoned you back, though you continued until you could collapse on a bed he used to lay beside you on, aching to call Blair, though her patronising would worsen your suffering. Either you drowned or returned miserable and all you wanted was the kelpie hiding from you.

If he wouldn't come to you within the next days, you would be home in less than week. The fresh air walking to town spared you the time to torment yourself with thoughts of him, busy feigning passing smiles, hoping nobody would recognise you as the girl who nearly became a kelpie's prey; the girl who still wanted one.

Before dark, you rested surrounded by disorganized possessions that ought to be burned, lest you turn to them again for comfort. Some things you posted home that day, old scraps and photos, but there was nothing more you could do to busy yourself.

Nothing more to do than close your eyes against the trick of light nearing your home.

Still, he knocked, as though you would refuse him. You didn't answer, either way.

"Bags?" Hardly a step through the open bedroom door, he whispered and stilled. Careful touches flitted over the straps, following the abandoned pile of clothes for the journey home beside them. His body fell with all the grace of something other, cradling your loose scarf and bringing it to his face. When his eyes closed, your heart lurched.

"You're forcing me away again."

His shoulders hunched. The scarf muffled him before he clutched it in a tight fist, stroking the material. "This coming morning?"

As you intended, he flinched when you said, "I have no reason to stay."

Cathair came closer in the dim light, and you struggled to sit up faced with his sudden decision to cross the distance. He was bare, the pale of his body tinged, bar the necklace dangling down his chest. Your scarf fell now you were within his hold. When he reached out to you, his fingers were cold on your cheek, slender and running back to lift your head.

"I wanted you to have my bridle." Breath left you on a sharp rush, and Cathair pressed himself closer. He cradled your face and when his seemingly empty eyes found yours, he held you there. They glistened. "Before you left, it was to be yours."

The last time you had seen him, in the thick of night and holding back a cry, he hadn't spoken. You told yourself it must have been the same pain at being apart, that he would miss you just as much, then he never reached out, never replied to letters delivered here, so you fought to move on, too.

But looking at him now, fallen onto his knees and offering servitude, your heart broke for him. Cathair curled his fingers at your waist and clutched the thin slip when you turned, and he bowed his head to lean against your thighs.

"I don't blame you for that night," you said quietly. His shoulders rose with a sharp breath. His raven hair had the same shimmering to it as his body when you brushed back the thin strands, careful to avoid jostling him. "I trust you. I chose to befriend you, Cathair, and you saved me when your brother-"

"You left."

The scar on your arm throbbed with a phantom pain at the memory of sharp teeth catching at you. No human could dismount a kelpie, and Cathair swung to help, to fight off his brother, but dislodging you would leave you helpless again in a river of kelpies unable to swim with a wound so deep. Saving you from drowning first then protecting you, he had nothing to guilt himself for.

Then you left.

That same night he whinnied and rose from the riverbed as you ran. He followed not far behind, tail swishing fast until he turned and left you fleeing.

Cathair hardly reacted when you touched the thin bridle, but he lifted his head, eyes round and shadowed. "It is yours. Take it."

"I don't need the bridle to trust you. Unless you... unless you want to leave, to live out your life in that form, then I won't take it."

"Why?"

"I don't want to enslave you!"

His thin lips rose in an eerie semblance of a smile. "Why do you trust me?"

"Cathair," you whispered, and it was you reaching to frame his cold face, brushing your thumbs beneath his eyes. His lips turned to your wrist. "Why wouldn't I? I've loved you my whole life, and you've never once abused my trust. You've never once hurt me, tried to drown me or eat me-"

His teeth nicked at your wrist, though he was fast to kiss the soft skin again, a warmth in his voice when he spoke. "I could."

"You could. Do you want to?"

His body rose, leaning on his knees with large hands gentle on your thighs, before pressing his lips to yours. Tenderly, without moving for a breath when you held still, desperately trying to hold yourself back from scaring him away.

Cathair fell back with a soft thud. The brush of his hands upwards made you soften, but you mistook it for a way to hold you, not the question it was when his thumbs dipped and pressed your legs to part. He bowed low and brought his lips to your inner thigh, drawing in slow, steady breaths, before his lips softened on the thin fabric barring him from your body.

"Do you trust me?"

"With my life."

"I want to taste you."

With his touch guiding you, Cathair laid a warming hand to your stomach. He ushered you back, fingers tugging at your underwear until you were bare, your slip thrown away.

He trembled and lifted your thighs up to his shoulders, breathing deep, and the first kiss was experimental. He watched you tighten, your legs coming to press at his head until he returned low, guiding his hot kisses down before letting his tongue slip against you, and you cried his name. As you gasped now, it came different to when you spoke to him in the woods, with such power he himself groaned, and when he tasted you again, ran his nose up to nudge against your flushed nerves.

"You taste divine."

Rougher breaths flushed against your bare heat, awakening the heat molten in your navel. Like he knew, Cathair looked up, holding your desperate stare before his lips came around your flushing clit. Your hips bucked and he sucked, drawing a rough cry from your throat.

"That's it," he murmured. "Let me have you on my tongue."

Too flustered, too lost in the gentle touches, his hand running up your stomach to run against your breast made you arch into him. Cathair's soft laugh made you keen, his fingers teasing your nipple and rolling it beneath his thumb. The other hand, though it slipped your attention, too, began to stroke low, and his middle finger curled itself to the knuckle. Each crook of it had your stomach flipping, and he eased another, stroking against your tight walls until you whimpered.

"Please- I'm close-"

"I know, love," he whispered, and his fingers pressed you wide for his thick tongue to dip up, to taste you there. Tension tangled heavy in your stomach and he curled his fingers once more, the cold touch of a chain against your thigh a stark difference to how hot his breaths were, lapping with fire. "Show me how much you love me," he murmured, and his lips caught your bud of nerves as you screamed his name and your vision blurred. His sharp teeth grazed where you were most sensitive before chasing your release, kissing up your thighs and still moving his fingers in a way that had you unable to breathe properly. Cathair settled back and with your eyes on him, brought his slick fingers to his mouth, groaning. "You taste like heaven."

You fell back with a heavy head, and he came to lay by your side, soft lips to yours. The taste of you was thick on his tongue, and he laid over you with a hand smoothing back down your stomach. He held you close, his own body hot and pressing into yours.

"I want to stay," you whispered, and reached to bring him impossibly closer. "I want to stay here and be with you again."

Cathair's small smile warmed your heart. As you both curled back against the bed, the kelpie lost in touching your smooth skin, he took your lips again and promised, "I'll always stay with you."

592 notes · View notes

thedistrictsleepsalonetonight · 4 years ago

Text

Folk Songs (Weiss Schnee builds a home in the aftermath)

She asks Winter if she ever wonders why Atlas is named the way it is. Surely, naming a floating city after someone who was almost always pinned to the ground by the weight of the world would have been a mistake. Icarus, she muses, if it were up to her, she would have named it Icarus.

(Icarus flew and Icarus fell. Icarus, a slave to his own ambitions)

“Is that who you feel like?” Winter asks. “Atlas?”

It’s an honest question put to someone who has spent significant time carrying the family name around, by someone who handed it over when she grew too tall for it. Weiss shrugs.

“It’s not that deep,” she says.

Winter responds to that by patting her back. “Isn’t it, though?” she says, pushing a hand so Weiss straightens her posture. Weiss is sure the movement is unconscious, instinctual. Then Winter moves her hand to adjust the collar of the shirt she’s wearing, and lets her hand rest on Weiss�� shoulder for the rest of the conversation. Neither of them mentions it.

*****

She’s sitting at the piano when Ruby plops down next to her. “Teach me,” Ruby says, hitting a couple of disjointed notes.

Weiss, who is prone to losing her bearings when Ruby is near, plays a couple of notes in response. It’s supposed to be a tiny jingle, but she messes it up.

“I can’t play very well,” she, who has been trained to play the piano, the cello, and the violin since the age of five, says without a pause. Then she balls up her fists, because what she meant to say instead is — I can’t play very well when you’re around. Actually, I can’t do a lot of things very well when you’re around, Ruby.

(Blake and Yang need to come up with their combined manual on love soon. And when they do, she hopes there will be a section titled How to talk to girls you’ve kissed and sworn eternal devotion to but because there was a war going on neither of you ever sat down to define your relationship and now you don’t know what to do with your hands when she’s near. It can be a long section; she doesn’t mind as long as it gives her clear instructions.)

Ruby presses at a note. “What’s this?”

“An F.”

Another one. “This?”

“Either a C sharp or a D flat.”

Ruby stares hard at the piano, and Weiss entertains the crazy thought of kissing her frown away. She’s done it before — on sleepless nights, on ravaged battlefields, as a mark of comfort and of quiet, painful adoration. It’s damning how easy it is to bend to Ruby; every cell in her body calls out a primordial cry for her. How could she, mountain of carefully sculpted indifference, bow this effortlessly to fire?

(Her father, if she deigned to give him the time of day, would probably mutter something about how she’s a disgrace to the Schnee name, and she would disagree. What she feels in her heart for Ruby is nothing short of a miracle.)

“Here,” she says, pressing the notes in order, slowly so she’s sure Ruby can follow. “If you want to play a basic chord, you could just hold down C, E, and G notes together. That’s C major.”

“Like this?”

“No, that’s….to the right. No, not that,” she pauses, brings up her own hand to press over Ruby’s and guide her. It isn’t until Weiss glances up once and sees the mischievous smile on her face that she realizes.

“Oh!” she says, her hands retreating to her lap.

“I’m sorry if I—“, Ruby starts, sounding guilty, and Weiss turns to her, quick as a whip.

“No!” she says, then realizes they’re both almost nose to nose. “Don’t — don’t be sorry, please.”

“Did you not like that?” Ruby asks, her voice soft.

Weiss laughs, and the sound seems nervous to her own ears. “No, I,” she says, “I liked it.”

Ruby’s answering smile is sunlight through her windows in the morning, gradual in its brightness until it’s too much to bear. Weiss shifts, rests her forehead on Ruby’s shirt clad shoulder. The fabric smells a little like detergent and a lot like Ruby’s fruity perfume.

“You know,” she says, her voice half muffled by the shirt. She knows Ruby can hear her though. “I can never look you right in the eye when I talk to you. It feels — feels too much like burning up.”

Ruby shakes: Weiss can almost see her laughing. “Do you know how you can never look me right in the eye when you talk to me? That’s when I get to stare at you. You talk and talk and I just keep looking at your pretty face.”

The sound that comes out of her throat at Ruby’s halting admission is a mixture of acute embarrassment, disbelief, and delight.

“I used to wait two hours for you to come back from your missions with Blake and Nora so we could eat together.”

She feels Ruby press a kiss to her temple. “I used to stay up until 2 am because that was the only time I could be alone with you.”

“I can’t sit next to you,” Weiss tells her, “it’s like there’s this thing between our arms — this—”

“—electricity,” Ruby completes, and slides her fingers through Weiss. Weiss closes her eyes from her very comfortable position and feels Ruby’s lips on her knuckles, soft, careful. When Ruby removes her hand, she feels the loss as acutely as something has been ripped out of her soul. Another random note rings out in the silence.

“Go out on a date with me.” Nowhere in the statement is a demand, or a presumption, just quiet assurance. “Weiss,” Ruby says, when she still doesn’t answer. “Go out on a date with me, please.”

Weiss nudges aside the collar of her shirt and kisses her neck. Then she leans back to look at Ruby.

“What if you don’t like me after we go on the date?”

The question is delivered with just enough amusement, but behind it lies real distress. What if this only works because we’ve been thrown together all these years fighting a weary battle? What if you only think you like me because you haven’t seen the rest of me yet? What if, when you see the rest of the world and start spending time with other people, you realize I’m not up to all that you’ve built up in your head?

“If I don’t like you after we go on that date, then you have my blessing to blast me into space with your Arma Gigas.”

“Ruby—”

“In what world,” Ruby cuts in smoothly, “do you imagine I wouldn’t like you back? In what world does my stomach not twist when you walk into the room, or my breathing not falter when you talk? I have heard a million voices in my lifetime, Weiss, but in what world is yours not the only one I want my heart to cut itself on?”

“Stop,” she says, face burning, eyes closed, “Ruby, you — just, stop talking, I’m going to—”

“Weiss,” Ruby says. “Go out on a date with me.”

Not that the answer is needed, but Weiss nods anyways.

*****

Whitley is equal parts familiar and foreign. There’s the same bristling stance, the Schnee stamp prominent upon his features, his hair, still parted the same side as she would see back when they were children running around in their estate. What’s different is the thinly veiled animosity in his eyes, the angry twist to his mouth.

“You can’t just come in here,” he starts, waving a hand to wipe away the holographic design for SDC office headquarters Weiss has just pulled up, “and start ordering me around.”

“Whit,” she says, watching as he flinches at the old nickname. “I’m not ordering you around. I couldn’t. You’re the expert here—”

“—yeah, I am. The heir who stayed, remember?”

She is reminded, of a game of hide and seek on a Sunday a long time ago. Whitley had hidden himself so well that Weiss couldn’t find him even after wandering all around the estate. And then when Winter had come back from training, she’d abandoned the pursuit, running off to interrogate her sister instead.

You didn’t find me, Whitley had come running, crying after ten minutes, distraught. You and Winter, and — he’d paused to take in a wet shuddering breath too big for his ten-year-old body — you and Winter forgot about me. And she’d known, even then, that what he was protesting was being left alone when they were together.

“I do know a little bit of this, Whit,” she says, mildly. “I can help.”

“I don’t need your help!” he tells her, sharply.

“I’m sure you don’t,” Weiss says, “but we’re the last of Schnees, if you don’t count mom, and we should stick together. I’m not saying I know everything, but I have been training half my life for this, so I could contribute.”

“I’d rather,” he starts, then cuts off abruptly. I’d rather die, she completes in her head, and waits patiently for him to continue. He looks away. “So much for sticking together.”

She reaches out and pats the top of his head. He swivels away violently.

“You — stop, you, you don’t get to do that.”

“Actually, I do,” she replies smoothly, “I happen to be one of your sisters. Not historically a very good one, but I’m what you’ve got, so you’re going to have to make do.”

When Whitley speaks, every time Whitley speaks, all she hears is his ten-year-old version screaming You left me at her, upset and sulking. While Winter made sure Weiss was able to defend herself if she wasn’t around to do that for her, when opportunity to leave Atlas had arisen, Weiss herself had run off, too relieved about the freedom to worry too much about her brother.

He glares at her. “I’m guessing you’ll want something?” he says, flippantly. “The position of the CFO? A seat in the Board of Directors, maybe?”

“Not exactly,” she says, smiling as she messes up his hair one last time before she exits the room. “Dinner every Tuesday and Saturday evening. 7 pm. I’ll see you in two days.”

“Wha — what?” she hears him ask from behind. “What are you — no! I’m not doing…. Weiss!”

*****

When Weiss goes to pick Ruby up for their date, she’s greeted by the entirety of Mantle and Atlas instead.

“We’re not that many people, please,” Blake says, before she joins Yang at the door. “Oh. Oh wow.”

“Do I — does this look, okay?” Weiss asks, smoothing the front of her dress nervously. She didn’t quite trust Jaune’s choice in dresses, but this was what Oscar, Robyn and Winter had collectively agreed on: a midnight blue slinky…. thing that didn’t quite reach her knees and was making her feel very awkward.

Yang’s jaw is still open, her head moving back and forth between Blake and her. Blake closes it for her.

“Okay?” Nora calls out, as Weiss enters the house further. “Girl, if Ruby doesn’t get down on her knees at the end of the night, I’ll give away all of my wealth to the good children of Mantle.”

“Nora!” you say, scandalized, the same time that Yang screams Ew.

“What? I didn’t mean it that way,” she says. “But don’t you think it’s interesting how both of you jumped to….”

Ren covers her mouth with his hand, smiles wryly at the rest of them.

“Also,” Emerald points out, poking her head out from behind the fridge. “Doesn’t Nora have like, five lien to her name?”

And that will not go to the good children of Mantle tonight, comes through in the muffled voice of a still incapacitated Nora. Weiss walks around the room, trying to calm her nerves. She doesn’t want to walk too fast and sweat through, or rip something, but there’s this electric charge festering under her skin everywhere, and no amount of balling up and releasing her own fists seems to help. She tries to take a deep breath, discovers her lungs aren’t ready for it yet.

“Hey,” Blake’s already at her side, one hand gently resting on her abdomen, the other on her back. “Breathe. Breathe with me, Weiss.”

She focuses on Blake’s steady voice, on the numbers she counts out, and slowly her breathing evens out. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”

“Please,” Yang says easily, “you should’ve seen Blake after I kissed her the first time. She nearly passed out.”

“That’s because you weren’t wearing clothes!” Blake shoots back, defensively.

“Oh yeah,” Yang says, staring off into space. “Wait, why wasn’t I wearing clothes?”

“Can I just say,” Ren said, looking pained, “how much I do not want to hear this story.”

“I’m okay now,” Weiss says. “Also, why aren’t you guys helping Ruby get ready?”

“You think I need help getting ready?” Ruby’s voice rings out from behind her, and Weiss turns, and

(Had she just thought that she was okay? Because she’d never been more wrong in her life.)

The sight of Ruby, standing near the door rips the breath from her lungs so fast she’s left reeling. It imprints itself upon her memory, a postcard polaroid for the end of all her days, and Weiss wonders where to look. Surely she’s not allowed to look at Ruby directly — isn’t it illegal to look upon angels? She wants to shield her eye, hide her face, wants to turn and run away because she’s sure there’s a world out there where she’s worthy of holding Ruby’s hand and walk beside her, but this can’t be it.

“What?” she says, stupidly, when she realizes Ruby had asked her something but for the life of her can’t remember what it was.

“I — nothing,” Ruby says, walking forward. “Weiss. You look….”

She trails off into silence, until Emerald says — Yo, can I get in on that bet you were talking about earlier — and gets shushed loudly.

(Weiss wants to warn her against it. She’s convinced she’s going to be the one getting down on her knees and proposing marriage at the end of the evening)

*****

Life moves on. Weiss holds Ruby’s hands in hers, and watches autumn turn to winter. Whitley smiles at her on their fifth dinner date, and then, to make up for it, turns down all her proposals for the next two. Sun and Neptune come to visit, and Yang spends the entire time doing pushups ominously in full view of both Blake and Sun, to the former’s amusement and the latter’s bemusement. Oscar goes on his first date with a girl from Mantle, and discovers at the end of the night that Jaune, Ren, Nora and Emerald had been following them the entire time. Qrow makes a half-hearted attempt at warning her of the consequences of breaking Ruby’s heart, and when Whitley and Winter discover that, they kidnap Ruby for half a day. Ruby refuses to tell her what happened, but she also refuses to kiss her in public the whole next week.

Weiss decides to move out of the Schnee estate when she finds a tiny apartment in Mantle, a building over from where Blake, Yang and Ruby have theirs. There’s a lot of light and her favorite spot in the entire place is a corner where the previous family had marked the heights of their three children, apparently named Lee, August and Celia. Ruby draws a line next to it, names it Weiss’ patience level for the day and marks it at random points, depending on her mood. Her mother gifts her flower plants, and subsequently, vases, when Jaune breaks the few that Weiss already had.

The first night, when they’re all exhausted from the multiple trips up and down the stairs and are all crashed in the living room, Ruby finds her outside on the balcony. Weiss knows as soon as she enters through the door — Ruby’s presence carries trough the air — but she only looks back when there’s a red cloak wrapped around her from behind. She feels familiar arms wrap across her stomach and leans back.

“Miss home?”

“This is home now,” Weiss replies, and is surprised to find that the thought does make her a little sad, regardless. “But yes, I do.”

She’s going to miss living with Whitley and her mother, will miss sleepovers when Winter comes down to visit. All the loneliness in the world wrapped up in one large house, and it still stings to leave it behind.

“You know, I heard Robyn’s place isn’t too far from here,” Ruby says. “And if Robyn isn’t far, then—”

“—Winter isn’t too far.”

“—and Whitley and Oscar are already planning a video game session here next Friday.”

Weiss arches back, and kisses Ruby on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“Whatever for, my darling?”

“For,” she flounders for an explanation that sounds normal. Thank you for loving me, while accurate, isn’t a very healthy sentiment to express, “for keeping me warm, always.”

Ruby chuckles against her cheek. “Okay.”

“And Ruby?” she asks. “I know this is the first time I’ve moved out on my own, and I need to build my own life here, and I will. But. In a while — maybe….”

Ruby hums to let her know she’s waiting.

“I’m just saying, that there’s. I mean — I’ve left half my closet empty. So, if, in a while, you ever want to. I just want you to know that I want to build a life with you.”

“Weiss Schnee,” Ruby says, and even with her eyes closed Weiss can hear the smile in her words. “If in a while, you want to share your closet space with me, then it would be my greatest honor.”

*****

She knows Ruby’s up even before she’s completely conscious.

It’s the little things — the fact that Ruby’s arm isn’t weighing on her shoulder, that her leg isn’t slung over her thighs. Weiss blinks, and turns over in bed, concerned.

Ruby stares back at her, wide-eyed.

“Can’t sleep?” Weiss whispers.

Ruby shakes her head slowly. There’s something in her expression that has Weiss worried. It’s not that she thinks they’re in any danger at the moment, but there’s some unsettling thought going on behind those beautiful eyes.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you watch that movie,” she says, but Ruby shakes her head once again. “What? No ghosts scaring you?”

Ruby opens her mouth, clears her throat once. “Only the human kind,” she says.

“Hey,” Weiss asks, bringing up a hand to brush the hair off her forehead, “sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Does this still bother you?” Ruby asks her in return, her hand sliding under Weiss’ shirt to expose the scar Cinder had left behind when she had impaled her. Weiss looks down, struggles to make out the tiny line in the dark. She wants to ask another question, but at this rate they’ll be stuck in an eternal loop and she does want Ruby to get some sleep, because she tends to lose her appetite if she doesn’t.

“Sometimes,” she says. Then she smoothens out a tiny crease that’s formed between Ruby’s eyebrows. “You want to tell me what you’re thinking?

“I didn’t see her do it,” Ruby starts, after a while. “Cinder, I mean. I only turned when you fell and I. Weiss.”

“Ruby,” she says, pressing her forehead against Ruby, kissing her once. “Stop.”

“—no, I. And then I left to fight. I left you with Jaune and Ren and Nora, but I still left, and every day I think about it, every single day, I think about you lying on the ground, the blood spreading on your dress, and if Jaune hadn’t been there—”

“—but Jaune was there!” Weiss tells her, not knowing what to say to make it better. Ruby is in so much distress; her voice is in shreds, and there’s a tear making its way across her face. “I’m fine. I’m safe.”

“I’d have killed her,” Ruby says, simply, her voice raw. “I would have killed her. I should have.”

“Ruby, no.”

“If you’d — if something had happened to you,” Ruby says, pausing, frustrated. Her eyes are closed tight, more tears squeezing out of them by the second, and Weiss tips forward to kiss one away. I’m safe, she says. You’re safe. We’re all safe. Ruby, Ruby, Ruby. We’re safe, she says, as she kisses her temple, her rumpled up hair, the bridge of her nose, and she has no idea how or when her words turn into I love yous in her mouth. I love you, Ruby, she repeats over and over, wanting to imprint the words on Ruby’s skin, wanting to tattoo her kisses on her cheek so the mark never fades, so she’ll never forget, I love you so much. And it’s easy in the thin light of the moon, to pull out the words from where she’s been hiding them, keeping them safe her entire life. There’s a moon in the sky and Weiss loves Ruby. There’s a garden blooming in the balcony and Weiss loves Ruby. For as much as love threatens to bring about her end, Weiss loves Ruby, and that love is both the beginning and the never-ending middle to her story.

*****

Tell me about what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, Ruby asks her, laughing, one morning over breakfast, and Weiss tells her there is destruction, but also that love is born in the carnage.

“Our hearts are but collateral damage, my love,” Weiss says. “But my heart, regardless of the damage it bears, is yours to do with as you please.”

*****

Robyn builds a school in Mantle.

No, that comes later. This comes first: Weiss grows tired of sitting in an office. She loves Whitley, but if she has to design one more plan, or take one more call talking to people about dust, she will kill herself.

Actually, wait. That comes second. This is what comes first.

Weiss grows tired of fighting.

*****

“My name,” she says, knowing from the whispering going on in the rows, that the information she is about to share is redundant anyway, but formalities are important, “is Weiss Schnee, and in this class we will be learning Grimm Studies.”

She’s pretty sure she hears someone whisper Hero of Mantle somewhere in the back rows, but ignores it, in favor of writing a couple things on the board. She jots down the curriculum and a brief lesson plan, acutely conscious of whether the clothes she’d had Ruby pick out for her this morning were appropriate class attire. The tie with dogs on it wasn’t something she could have helped, anyway, since she’d lost a bet with Emerald a while back. After she’s done, she turns around and asks the class if they have any questions.

“I have one,” comes a voice from the door, and Weiss closes her eyes. Of course. Of course they would come. “Miss. Schnee,” Yang continues, jumping on top of a desk in front of what seems to be a very impressed student, “when will the kids be divided into teams?”

There’s a lot more pointing, whispering and an abundance of awed looks going on in the class now.

“That is not something the students need to be worried about right now,” she answers, evenly.

“Actually, jumping off of Yang’s very astute question,” Jaune chimes in, “will each team also have a leader?”

She’s going to kill them she’s going to kill them she’s going to kill them

“Yes,” she says, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Awesome!” Blake adds, brightly. “But, in the event that they do not like their leader, and think their leader is an incompetent idiot, what can they do?”

Nora and Ren titter from their place at the very back. And from where she’s sitting between them, feet kicked up onto her desk, as casual as she had been all those years ago at Beacon, Ruby smiles, and raises her hand.

“I’d like to know the answer to that myself,” Ruby says.

She takes in a deep breath, summons the Arma Gigas. Has him sit just behind her.

“Now,” she says in what’s her best attempt at authority, “not only will I not be answering any of those questions, but also, unfortunately, question time is over for the entire class. If that thing I have summoned behind me is scaring you, please do not worry, I will make sure it only stands up when one of the six idiots sitting amongst you say something stupid.”

“Okay so,” she says, then takes it all in. Thinks back to years and years ago, when she’d been one of the students sitting in a similar classroom in an academy, miles away, next to people who’d end up meaning more to her than she ever imagined. After all the years of fighting and bleeding, here they were, trying to do something to make the world a better place.

This is not a tale that ends in tragedy, she thinks, and starts talking.

#rwby #weiss x ruby #whiterose #fanfiction #rwby fanfiction #another weiss schnee character study because guess what - she's actually my most favorite character ever #Also there's the usual found family feels #ah idk i finished this in the afternoon because i couldn't sleep but since it was prime naptime - there may be mistakes #you have now been warned #anyways - i hope you guys like it :)

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palimpsessed · 3 years ago

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Writerly Ephemera

I was tagged by @amywaterwings @mostlymaudlin @tea-brigade @effing-numpties @captain-aralias @bloodiedpixie . This is so cool, so thanks for sharing yours! ❤️

Per Amy: We add little bits of ourselves to our writing, scattering memories and places and phrases and things into our stories. The game is to find five examples of this, of YOU, in your writing and show everyone.

I don’t really feel like I put much of my own experiences into my fic, probably because I don’t feel like I have a lot of experiences to pull from. (That’s not me being self-deprecating; that’s me never going anywhere or doing anything.) So, let’s see what we come up with!

Going to tag here. I feel like I’ve gotten to this late so I’m not sure who has been tagged. Anyway. No pressure, loves. Just saying hi. 🥰 @theflyingpeach @bazzybelle @otherworldsivelivedin @unseelieseelie @wetheformidables @caitybug @nightimedreamersworld @foolofabookwyrm @stillmadaboutpetra

1. I have put the most of myself into A Man of Letters. I have my degree in English Lit and when I was in college, I was at the height of my Jane Austen obsession. So I sort of built my degree around the development of the English novel. My senior thesis was on a book called Evelina by Frances Burney, who was one of Austen’s greatest literary influences. Evelina is an epistolary novel—told entirely in letters. I love the epistolary form, for the same reason I love dialogue and texting fics. It’s such a fun narrative technique and can reveal so much about individual characters. It’s actually a bit like the way Rainbow Rowell uses multi POV in her books. Anyway, my love of the epistle was on full display in this fic, which is ofc told in letters. —Do I share a passage? That’s like...the whole fic 😅 So, idk. Here’s Simon being a disaster as he meditates on letter writing:

Dear Penny,

As I start this letter, I already know I'm not going to post it. I know I won't be able to bring myself to do it, because of what I have to say to you. I do feel bad. It's not that I don't want to tell you. And you know I'm so much better at writing things down than saying them out loud. It's only that I feel like this would all sound better coming from me in person. I just don't think I'll be able to make you understand in a letter. I'm still trying to understand myself. And writing all of this down helps me with that. Even if I'm only pretending to write to you, it makes me feel better, to think of you on the other end. I promise I really will tell you everything as soon as we're together again.

2. Also for A Man of Letters, my fascination with Regency fashions, in particular the dandy, was a major factor. I did an art book about this, comparing how fashion has changed over time, especially in regard to gender. (I also did an art book based on Evelina, since I’m on the subject. I minored in book art. 😁) I always fancied the look of a Regency dandy, so that was my gift to Baz.

Whoever has been working their magic on Salisbury should in fact be the person to whom I offer my eternal devotion. Alas, I am left to flounder under the burden of lusting after a man who is incapable of dressing himself.

The utter and unmitigated shame.

Salisbury wore a forest green wool frock coat that set off the golden highlights in his brown locks. This was accented with a green and aubergine striped silk waistcoat that was trimmed in white piping and felt much too daring a pattern for the man. (I don't care if he was a soldier; it takes a hardier man than him by half to choose a stripe like that.) His charcoal trousers were enticingly snug, but not so much to prove lethal. His cravat and points left much to be desired, though that likely reflected poorly on his ability to keep himself in order, rather than the ability of his valet. (Good God, maybe the man doesn't even have a valet!)

3. When it came to my countdown fic, To the Manor Borne, I had Shep make a reference to Cluedo, because Pitch Manor would be perfect for a real life game. Behind that, is the fact that my family played a lot of Clue and I watched the movie a whole bunch growing up, to the point where my sister and I used to quote it to each other. This was a way to pay homage to that. He also talks about playing the game Murder in the Dark, which was one I played at Halloween as a kid. One of my cousins was dressed as a ghoul with glow in the dark face paint and we were in my grandma’s creepy upstairs. Perfect vibes.

I’ve seen the kitchen and the dining room and the library and the study and the parlor. Walking through this house is like playing Clue. (They call it Cluedo on this side of the pond, because they like to be difficult.) (That was a whole thing. Do not get me started.)

I keep thinking Colonel Mustard’s going to pop up out of nowhere and brain me with a lead pipe.

And:

What kind of games do you play with magickal friends who don't have magic? Twister? Not with the wings and tail. Cards? Baz and Penny would cheat. Or accuse everyone else of cheating if they didn't win. Murder in the dark? With these people, in this house, I knew it would turn literal fast, and also it was like ten in the morning. Hide and seek? Simon and I would hide and everyone else would ditch. Snowball fight? World War III.

4. I’ve referenced Mozart in my fics a couple of times because when I was first getting into classical music, I was listening to a lot of Mozart. My sister had a CD of some of his early symphonies, and my local classical station does “Mozart in the Mornings” which happened to fit in the exact time slot between two morning classes I had my first year in college. I’d go sit in my car with a cup of tea, and just vibe with Mozart as my soundtrack. I’ve name dropped him in both A Man of Letters and To the Manor Borne. Also, Mozart wrote 12 variations on the melody shared by Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, which is a lovely tie in. (I also had the gang sing/cast The Holly and the Ivy, which is one of my favorite Christmas carols, and by strange coincidence was playing on the radio at the same time I wrote that scene. 🥰)

"It's a songbook," I tell him, like he can't figure that out for himself. "Did you know that Mozart wrote twelve different versions of the same song?"

He's laughing. "Mozart did not write Twinkle, twinkle, little star, Simon."

"You know what I mean."

"He composed twelve variations for solo piano on the French folk melody Ah! Vous dirai-je, maman."

"Sure. Anyway, this is for the violin. For you to play."

He's still laughing, and I'm trying to figure out what's so funny, but then he kisses me again, on the lips this time, so I figure maybe I'm still doing okay.

Only one more to go! What will it be? 👀

5. Therapy! Eheheh...😅 Look, it’s no secret the gang needs it. And tbh, so do I. Haven’t actually managed to get myself to go yet, and I think that’s where a lot of my “send them to therapy” happy endings come from. I did it in Use Your Words and To the Manor Borne. I started Chamber by Chamber with SnowBaz already in therapy, and then structured the whole thing around therapy that they give to each other and to themselves. It didn’t really fit in A Man of Letters, but if it had, I absolutely would have done it. I’ve only shared from two fics so far, and since it could kind of spoil the ending to Use Your Words (tho saying this may be spoiler anyway...), here are two snippets from It’s a Kind of Magic, Part I of Chamber by Chamber.

I've been working on articulating my needs. We both have. Ordinarily, I'd be afraid of pushing him away by making demands when he's on the verge of a spiral, but my therapist insists that I can't go on treating Simon with kid gloves. If I never ask him for anything, he'll think he doesn't have anything to give.

And

When I told that to my therapist, she said that I needed to talk it out of me and she'd help me find ways to work through it all. She said I needed to talk it out with Baz, too, so that he'd know how to help me when things got bad again—that was something else she said, that things would get bad again, and that I'd need to be prepared for that. That I couldn't expect things to be easy, and just go away.

6. BONUS! I think the biggest way I include bits of myself is in the AUs I’ve chosen to write. I have three I’m planning that say a lot about me, so I’m going to talk a bit about them here. There is ofc my Scooby Doo AU, inspired in large part by the fact that I watched it all the time growing up and also, my sister continues to be obsessed with it. When we were young, my parents were doing a lot of work on their house and we’d take family trips to the hardware store. My sister and I hated it, so we’d wait in the car with my mom and she would entertain us with “Scooby Doo stories”. Other AUs I’m planning? Troop Beverly Hills—please tell me someone else out there loved this movie the way I did when I was 5. It was very influential to baby me and I remember wishing for nothing more than being able to dress like Shelley Long. So, I’m going to let Baz do it, because I think he deserves it. 🥰 Lastly, tho it will probably be the first I write, is my Cupid and Psyche AU, from when I was heavy into mythology and religion. Since these are all forthcoming projects, I don’t really have a snippet. Instead, here’s Baz comparing Simon to Eros, which is what started my brain on that particular AU.

I am lost. I barely know anything about Salisbury, but I can't help being drawn in. At one time, I could have comforted myself that I was only so smitten with him because he looks like he was sculpted by Praxiteles. That excuse grows weaker with every encounter. He's the furthest thing from a lifeless tribute to beauty in marble as one can be. There is something deep and dark and feral inside of him and I want to claw it out. I want to see it, to let it free. To taste his wildness and his pain.

#tag game #writerly ephemera

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shyrose57 · 3 years ago

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I do enjoy that Tommy can end up becoming this awkward hesitant family figure to Foolish and Eret in Eternally Cling AU. Like, even when Wilbur brushes off his help, he's still looking out for them, and knows that Schlatt will only make L'Manberg worse, so he makes it clear that Foolish can call on him if he needs it and gets in contact with his old friend Techno to watch over Eret and Wilbur.

I'm absolutely in love with the idea of Eret coming to Tommy after escaping exile, because last time she was exiled, she was able to follow Wilbur's lead, but now she has nowhere to go except Away From Dream? But she remembers that Tommy offered last time, and maybe he'll be willing to offer again, so she steals off to his castle. Healing arc between Dream's two manipulation victims! And ooooh, man, Dream coming to the castle looking for her and Tommy talking his way out of it? Depending on how Tommy's been doing with regards to Dream, Eret either gets an outside perspective on how Dream's been manipulating Tommy or it's character development on Tommy's part! Fantastic vibes either way.

And Foolish being considered so much more of an asset to so many folks in this AU is just, oof. A god of undying is powerful enough, but one who's still figuring out his powers and very nearly can't die at all? He probably attracts a bit more attention than he'd like. And Dream having a greater vested interest in both Eret and Foolish here is such an interesting consequence of the swap. Imagining a scene in the Finale where Dream gets Eret to behave by holding an axe to Foolish's neck and says, "So, undying, right? Willing to bet his life on it? I have all day, I can try a couple of times." Dream with Foolish's powers is terrifying, I can see Foolish being so scared of Dream after that.

And bruh, Foolish knowing that Eret died before Sam even finds out? Him all but storming the prison as the sky crashes down in his wake, his emerald eyes looking almost red, demanding frantically for Sam to tell him where Eret is, he knows they were in the prison last, where the fuck are they?? And Sam gets to the cell and sees what Dream did, and then comes out and has to weather Foolish's grief.

Awkward Big Brother Figure Time is a go.

Eret supporting Tommy as he's supported them, when they see what's going on, them both healing in the castle. Tommy talking with a silver tongue when Dream comes asking, Eret sees a different side to their brother figure.

Foolish does not have a good time in this AU, huh? If somebody's not trying to kill him or Eret, they're trying to use him-almost like a pawn, huh? Dream threatening to kill Foolish multiple times is actually chilling, especially from Eret's POV. They were there in the aftermath of the Festival, and the control room. They know exactly how much it'll take before he goes down, and how much he'll suffer in the meantime.

Foolish not only being scared of Dream, but anyone who mentions his power too often, fearing what it could mean if they got ahold of it. Perhaps it even making him more distrustful of everyone in general.

Foolish storming the prison, oh Prime, I love that so much.

Fuck.

Sam pale, carrying Eret's body out to Foolish once he realizes what's happened, and the sky roaring once the young god lies his eyes upon them.

#Cling Eternally AU #dream smp #dream smp au #eret #tommyinnit #foolish gamers

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rpmemesbyarat · 3 years ago

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RP meme from "Chapter One: A World of Darkness" in Changeling: The Dreaming (20th anniversary edition)

Dreamers are taught that they won’t amount to much, that their creativity is a pale imitation of what came before.

Well-meaning, or envious, parents and friends consistently suppress talent in their loved ones, secure in the knowledge that they’re saving them from a huge mistake.

Repeated altercations eviscerate creativity until all that remains is overwhelming self-doubt and insecurity.

Every day is a struggle.

It’s not that they don’t care, they are just unable to grasp circumstances beyond their own social circle.

Old legends define a changeling as the offspring of mortals and faeries, or a faerie child switched out for a human one.

Ancient curses affect entire landscapes, monsters hide in withered forests, roads made of stardust allows travelers to visit vistas hidden among clouds, and ancient dragons and bygone beasts still roam the skies.

In order to survive this onslaught on their very essence, the fae turned to an ancient ritual which locked their immortal souls in human bodies.

The child talking to her teddy is, in fact, discussing courtly politics with her chimerical bear companion.

The most common means of learning about the past, then, is through the traditional art of storytelling.

Despite the thrill and excitement of hearing legends brought to life by storytellers, academic history is an extremely important factor in the pursuit of lost faerie knowledge, turning myth into truth.

Ancient texts are written in several, often pictographic, faerie languages, and quite often the words seemingly come alive, constantly realigning, rotating, and shifting locations to avoid being decoded.

Even when enough common denominators exist for a decent decoding, the end results often cause further questions, rather than providing answers.

Events become history. History becomes legends. Legends become myths, and myths are forgotten.

Religions told mortals to worship new gods and to turn away from old traditions and rules.

As scientific methods began to explain what mortals previously considered magic, the common folk took to the church’s teachings, foreswearing their old ways in exchange for salvation and a steadfast faith on which to cling in the darkest days.

On July 20, 1969, humanity witnessed the moon landing live on television, and all of the hope, fear, and wonder of the previous decade burst forth.

Mortal witnesses describe friends or family collapsing for a brief moment, then rising, confused for a short time, but brimming with confidence and an aura of regal quality.

However, no matter the chosen human body, they all belonged to someone wealthy and influential, or were members of highly-valued and powerful families in society.

Despite conflicts, both parties openly declared their intent to find peaceful solutions, regardless of acts of violence intended to derail such hopes.

However, this decree didn’t prevent individual members of the houses to cast their allegiance with the side for which they felt an affinity.

The time for discussions ended with blood on the walls, and only war remained.

Theirs was a passionate, whirlwind romance, but one that ended in tragedy.

Without warning, the sky seemingly ripped open and, to those with faerie sight, a red sun appeared, bathing the world in a sinister scarlet light reminiscent of blood.

Behold! Your true king returns!

Better a nightmare than dreamless sleep

Nonetheless, the nobility is not immune to the changes in the world.

No matter how well hidden, however, the child’s true nature marks her as different.

It may start small, with a mortal witnessing strange occurrences no one else sees.

Those that are found are the lucky ones.

The term fosterage comes from the medieval practice, where nobles would take on the children of another family to cement alliances or to build connections between noble children for the next generation.

She will take the lessons from her mentor forward, spending the rest of her days honing what she has learned.

Banality seeks to explain away the fantastic and categorize, empiricize, contain, and render mundane anything outside of the scope of accepted mortal understanding.

This process doesn’t happen all at once.

Many legends and epic stories came from the search for extended life, with outcomes ranging from sad hilarity to outright horror.

Legends speak about treasures that can extend youth or grant immortality once more, like the fabled Fountain of Youth, but so far none have been recovered.

The adventure might be worth it, though.

It is a place woven into the fabric of the mortal world, hidden behind and without, though its magic and influence can affect the physical world and those that live in it.

The land responds to the thoughts and deeds of the creatures that live there and adapts to their every whim.

The shifting landscape is so unpredictable as to throw off any seasoned traveler.

Only a few trods lead to this wholly unpredictable and constantly-shifting landscape.

The space is influenced by the strong dreams of mortals and the expression of powerful mortal feelings and creativity.

They held nothing but hatred and contempt for one another.

History has taught them through many a hard-earned lesson that they are able to accomplish these tasks much more effectively when they work together than when they’re at each other’s throats.

The pageantry and rituals serve as thread that runs through the ages, tying the generations together.

Their customs and lore serve as the glue that binds each individual to one another.

Everyone, from the lofty noble on his throne to the lowly chambermaid, has their duties in a well-organized society.

Without everyone working together, doing what’s expected of them, society would not be able to support itself.

Even a lifetime of tragedy and loss has its own poignancy.

The act of creation holds an inherent beauty.

Each new work of art, new performance, and new thought is a unique manifestation of creativity undreamed of in the world before.

Beauty must be preserved because it is the basis for all life.

Society cannot operate effectively without an inherent fairness.

A favor is always paid back with a reciprocating favor.

An object or service given is returned with something of equal value.

Loyalty deserves fidelity, and acrimony deserves hatred.

The self comes from within. It is the basis of being, granting the ability to reason, to question, to strive for improvement.

To know oneself is to make life worth living.

Identity requires freedom — the freedom to buck trends, to say no, and to try new things.

The only things that remain eternally unchanged are those that are dead.

The alternative is nothing but stasis.

Even at its most benign, stagnation leaves people woefully unprepared when everything they know eventually gets upended.

Once outside rewards are involved, whether tangible or simply accolades, the concept of honor twists people, making them do monstrous things.

Honor is nothing more than an ugly little lie told by tyrants designed to keep their slaves docile and obedient.

No one can follow his dream when an overlord is standing above him, micromanaging his life.

Everyone has responsibilities, but if given the freedom to be themselves, people will find ways to do the necessary things in their own way that doesn’t prevent them from doing the things that make life worth living.

Pranks were played, sometimes in jest and at other times scathing, at the expense of those in power.

A merry time was had by all while allowing the disenfranchised a chance to air grievances and have an outlet for their frustrations.

Their only goal is to force a response from those capable of alleviating some of the suffering.

To fit in as part of the mundane world they became traveling circuses, freak shows, or other transient groups.

Those of higher rank are respected by those of lower rank and are also expected to meet their obligations to the less fortunate.

Many nobles see their main business to be that of gaining — or retaining — power.

Alliances may shift between the nobles and circumstances may change, but all try to expand their holdings and rise higher up the social ladder.

Something has to give.

A noble expects obedience from his vassals and respect from all others. In return, the noble respects those superior to him.

Whether they like it or not, the nobility has had to concede that modern ideas of democracy and popular rule are realities now.

Still, most nobles rule through force, cunning, personal magnetism, and custom.

They must never reveal their true natures to humanity.

Some battles are fought to first blood.

#rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #roleplay memes #changeling the dreaming #owod #World Of Darkness

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interplanaranathema · 3 years ago

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Mtg Fantober 1W Intros- OC Bio Condensed

Hello! I'll be doing Fantober as much as I can! Kicking it off on week 1 I plan to just do two condensed posts about my more lesser ocs I have other. Cutting it short and sweet and focusing overall backstory and giving some ideas about what they are currently doing within the multiverse

Archangel Avalon-

---Avalon is an archangel from one of my three fanplanes. He's UWR planeswalker with a interest in technology and magic. Due to the interplanar nature of most angels, Avalon wasn't able to form his own spark. However, before the mending, a near cataclysmic event took place on his plane and a dying oldwalker willingly gave their spark away to the closest being in hopes to able help this plane live. Thus with this new power, Avalon with his people and other angels successfully save the plane and rebuild it. ---Originally being UW, he is very dedicated to gathering knowledge to help his worshippers and fellow allies. Rarely that he would planeswalk away from his world and with a responsibilities that was given to him as an archangel, it came important that he stays. This was roughly the time when more known threats such as the Eldrazi and Nicol Bolas were apparent. A fellow planeswalker and him devised a machine that would use the blind eternities to shield and hide away his plane from those threats. Only way to get to the plane is either that now-deceased friend or him. ---After Sparks, Avalon with the help from Vodania, a dragon planeswalker, is attempting to undo that affect. His new found knowledge of the changed multiverse and now having his plane be relatively safe, made him more anxious to get out of there and spread his multiple wings.

Eriame Mel- ---Eriame Mel is a WUB Elf planeswalker. She focuses on dreams, fears and healing. When she was a young girl, she had a fascination in studying and she went off on her own quest. On this quest, she spoke with many different people and civilization realizing this world was darker and a lot more daunting to the other folk. Thus, going to the nearest church she was able to meet with one of the many angels of the plane and agreed to help the people and creatures of her own plane. With this, she spent a few years fighting and hearing the pleas of the townsfolk near her. Realizing it won't gonna end. Eriame kept pressuring herself to get better and to do what she could. She would get fits of sickness ending up in prolonged dreams and nightmares before they started to become lucid and she could peer into others' dreams as well. ---This was when her powers were coming and with that, she saw that with power she could help everyone! Thus, she took to studying and attempting to learn different forms of magic, most of it being telepathy. An accident happened during a battle at a fort and Eriame accidentally took control of multiple of her friends. After the battle was over and done all who she accidentally controlled, immediately turned on her and put her into exile. Due to feeling like an absolute failiure, her spark ignited. ---Now, Eriame traverses the planes, sticking to a few for at most for a year or two, helping people she comes to out and due to this multiple planes have started religions because of her. This caused her to start having a messiah complex and start to develop a spreading cult throughout the multiverse. Her identifiable symbol is of an angel.

Irula-

---From another fanplane, Irula is a UGR gorgon planeswalker. She's severely invested in the creature and has a pension of petrifying any new creatures she comes across for an examination. Her race lived on a moving continent mostly comprising of thick jungle. She was an explorer of her land and wanted to explore the other parts of her planes. Due to want of knowledge, she was not selected to become the next sage of her kind. Disheartened just a bit, Irula kept on her studying and trading of knowledge. Until one exploration, she was not careful enough and her group was mauled by a hydra. She was the only one to survive due to her igniting her spark. Arriving on unknown plane, Naya, she was taken in by the local leonin tribe as she recuperated. ---Irula soon planeswalked to multiple planes after getting adjusted to it. One of them happening to be Ravnica before the war, this was when she fell in love the Simic combine and the fun that it gave her. After experiencing a demo brought on the yearly Guildpact Celebration, she signed up and pledge her allegiance to the Combine.

Javatti Broens-

---Javatti broens is the planes-bound elementalist child of Detlev Broens, a dullahan with elven and dryad heritage, and Volan, a kaladeshi vedalken. They are a young adult dullahan who studies at the Prismari College on Arcavios majoring in Acting and minoring in Music preformance as a graduate. --- Born as the duo's third child, Javatti grew up as a single child, taking and learning about Detlev's and Volan's lives and eventually picking up the interest of acting from watching their mom's preformances as she was a Prismari professor. They only heard about their older sisters from the older artworks Volan and Detlev had long before they even settled on Arcavios. With this interest in their lost family, Javatti picked up books relating to the homeplanes of their parents, taking real big interest in Kaladesh. --- On their secondary school graduation, Detlev and Volan gifted Javatti a small life-craft peafowl they got from Kaladesh. Even with Javatti's prismari uniform and elementals have kaladeshi elements.

Nabu- ---Originally, Nabu was a original fiction oc, but my brain went BRRR and now he's a mtg oc. He's a RWG Snake-Human hybrid from a plane. Raised as a Priest from a young age, Nabu became a high priest of an ancient civilization at the age of 13 even if he wanted to a warrior like his older brother. With this title came his hybridization: he was forcibly turned into a naga-like creature. Wanting to please, Nabu didn't complain and was horribly manipulated for years, growing exponentially fast but oh so young still, causing him starve due to the unsustainable growth. Nabu didn't realize that centuries had passed when a rebel leader came into his temple at 15, and a priest as well as the leader saw how starved, tired and young Nabu was as well found out for centuries, Nabu was lied to as he worked. --- This event caused Nabu to run away to the nearest Jungle. Where he spent years isolated, hunting and resting. Until one day, a few people spotted him and called in one of the global organizations to come and check. Nabu was captured and was rehabilitated into a world thousands of years later than his previous life. ---After being fully rehabilitated, he vowed to protect the kids who went through the same hell he went through. Once he got an artifact to help reduce and keep him from starving to death, Nabu saw his own legs again instead of a long serpentine body and the pure Euphoria ignited his spark. --- Now as a planeswalker, Nabu sticks to his own world however, he does dabble in other planes, his preferred work is as a Boros Soldier on the plane of Ravnica.

#mtg fantober #SDFGH #i have so much ocs and i love em all #Irula #Nabu #Eriame Mel #Archangel Avalon #Javatti Broens #important #THIS IS ONLY 1/2 OF THE CONDENSED #fanwalker friday #long post

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archivistsammy · 3 years ago

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So Katharine and I have finally reached season eight, and general feelings of the way this season starts aside, it’s bringing up a lot of thoughts for me around a tarot card that may seem at first a little at odds. This week my study group has been working through the Star, and it’s been bringing up a lot of feelings. Like, way more than I ever thought it would. Primarily, folks have been discussing the struggle of associating hope with this tarot card, when often times after the Tower moments of our life, hope is rather difficult to come by. Further, sometimes hope feels like a farce, like an empty promise.

This has led to a pretty interesting and nuanced take on the card, evolving from simple hope to the complexity of feelings that come up after a traumatic event or dramatic upheaval. The facilitator of our group talked specifically about life after the Tower being defined more by survival and grappling with what’s just occurred rather than simply believing that because we made it through the event itself, everything is going to be fine. She talked about how, for her, the Star now holds these associations, alongside other complicated feelings such as survivor’s guilt, a desire to stop trying to make everything work out, and the contradicting sense that hope is still possible, but completely unfelt.

Hearing this conversation around the Star has felt deeply aligned to the struggles Sam and Dean face in season eight, of course brought to the fore in the first episode. Lets talk about Sam first. Then we'll talk about Dean.

Sam states right off the bat that life without Dean, Cas, Bobby, Kevin, and Meg had him feeling unmoored. Lost. One of the other common associations with the Star is navigation, literally the North Star. As such, this card reminds us that there is always a way back to ourselves, that there's always another way to make it through once the storm has passed. This comes to mind for Sam here, the sense that after the season seven finale, he felt aimless, without direction. That he "didn't exactly have a roadmap" for life without any support. That he, if you will, lacked a North Star of his own. (Which is very interesting when we think about how much younger Sam wanted independence and a break from his family, yet when he has it truly, he isn't sure what to do with it.)

So, what does Sam do after everyone is gone? He fixes up the Impala and drives away to "clear his head." He leaves his life of hunting behind him, does not look for Dean (and Cas), and he stops answering his phones. It's a pretty severe reaction (that of course follows a pretty severe trauma).

I talked earlier about how the facilitator of our group used the words "surviving" and "grappling" to better understand the Star, and she suggested that these are two separate modes of operation. I think Sam, immediately after Dean's disappearance, goes into survival mode. He fixes up his car, gets the hell out of dodge, and waits for the universe to tell him what to do next. Which is of course when he hits the dog and meets Amelia. From there, Sam reorients himself and starts living his life again.

If you were to ask me how I felt about this, I'd tell you...pretty shitty. Because I think that, while Sam is certainly surviving, he is not grappling. The Star is a card about dealing with your shit. Hope is part of that, feeling ready to hope again, even if it's tentatively, but even more for me, this card has always been about picking up the pieces of your life and figuring out how they fit back together into something different and better than what they were before the lightning bolt that tore it all down. Grappling is the perfect word to me for how it feels mentally to recover from the Tower. Grappling suggests a challenge. It suggests a struggle. It suggests holding on.

Sam doesn't really do any of that from what we see. He instead does what he always does, and compartmentalizes. Dean in one box. Hunting in another. New life in one more. There's no actual healing (in my opinion) in Sam's choice to stash away his old life and move into a motel (a metaphor for liminality and homelessness within the context of the show if I ever saw one), and so there's no actual Star energy at play here. At least, not the Star at its most beneficial.

If you'll bear with me talking through another tarot card before wrapping up my post for Sam, a while back I also made the connection between Sam's stagnation here and the Death card at its most malevolent. Death is a card of change and transformation, of the pain that facilitates growth, which are all essentially good things. But when we refuse to change, when we cling to that which no longer fits, when we refuse to move on, that's when Death corrupts. Like the spirits in the show themselves, a refusal to heal and move forward leads to afterlife eternal as a bitter ghost. And Sam, to me, is a ghost in the beginning of season eight. An echo of the Sam who began season seven feeling as if his life had meaning and that he needed to make the most of it. That his time in Hell had helped him come to terms with what he'd done in his past. Season eight Sam is nowhere near so adjusted. He's defensive, he's rationalizing. He doesn't know how to talk to Dean about how he really felt because, as far as the show tells us, he never actually considers his feelings himself. He drives. He hits a dog. He buys a house.

That's not healing, Sammy.

#supernatural #sam winchester #8.1 #we need to talk about kevin #s8 #supernatural through the tarot #our meta

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reithel1 · 3 years ago

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Lucifer: Revelations (Outline for a Movie)

Lucifer: Season 6.66

(How I Would Have Written Season 6):

I Love the actors, the characters and have deep appreciation for everyone in front of and behind the cameras… the story had quite a few good things… but parts were missing, some were confusing and some parts that were just plain mean… you naughty writers!

Lucifer Season Six was a disappointment to a lot of people. I swear, if I hear one more person say “bittersweet” I’m going to kick someone right in their dark chocolate.

It wasn’t “bittersweet” … much of the Chloe-and-Lucifer story was just bitter, period. (Also, a lot of folks are appalled at the way Trixie was snubbed…)

First, it’s obvious that none of your writers are old enough to understand the pain they are trying to write about…

They say, “it’s ok because they know Lucifer and Chloe will have eternity together”… This is something that a younger person would write… someone who has never had to live for several decades without that one person… the love of her life, raise his child alone… missing those milestones… first steps, first giggles, birthdays and holidays… it’s even worse, much worse, if he is somewhere else missing them too and she has to feel his pain too. And that is just HUMAN suffering.

Compound that with knowing your loved one is in a place where a month of your pain is a thousand years of torture for him, and it becomes unfathomable.

I have done the human part and wouldn’t even wish that pain on a fictional character.

That Time Travel nonsense just doesn’t work if it means that Lucifer has to sacrifice everything he has worked through, trying to so hard to come to grips with his own daddy issues. There is NO WAY that he would agree to walk away from his own child after all of that. NO WAY that he becomes a deadbeat Daddy.

So, I learned a new word… RETCON… it means “Retroactive Continuity”… something can be changed so that things that come after it can also be changed…

This can be corrected if it is shown that parts of the sixth season were just old, sick Chloe’s dementia, bad dreams, an injury or an illness-driven hallucination...

For one thing, once Rory returned to Chloe’s deathbed, couldn’t she have EASILY just sent up a prayer to Uncle Amenadiel aka GOD, and said, “I know the truth now, please tell Dad it’s time to come home, Mom needs him... it’s time!” and Lucifer could have been there within seconds! So the final scenes of Chloe dying without him don’t make any sense. Amenadiel not taking Chloe to see her Dad and Mom in heaven before heading to Hell also doesn’t make any sense… if she lived to be old, Penelope would have joined John by then.

So, I present: LUCIFER: REVELATIONS OR SEASON 6.66:

NEW GOD: I would change the plot so that Lucifer initially ascends the throne, attempts being God, (people AND angels died for him to become God, you know), he discovers what a hard job it really is, (remember when he said he hated the cacophony of voices in his head? How hard would it be for him to have to deal with 7.79 billion people praying to him in different languages, almost all at once, and see how he handled THAT!), then discovers Chloe is pregnant and THEN figures out that he doesn’t want the God job... How hard would it be for him when he’s God to constantly hear what she is thinking and have to turn a “deaf ear” to it? Not comment on it out of respect for her... adjust to letting her have some kind of privacy? After awhile, Lucifer begins to take more and more time away from his God duties, as if pretending he’s deaf and turning off his “hearing aid.”

NO GOD: On a celestial level, the other angels get frustrated because Dad has vacated the throne, Michael was gone (being punished in Hell) and Lucifer is gone frequently because he wants to step down — spend more time with Chloe as she nears her due date, then with the baby and Trixie, settling in to being an “earthly” Dad, and sort of neglecting his “Father of the Universe” duties… and Amenadiel doesn’t want it either... New rumbling began regarding who should rule... Since earth is once again basically without a God, things begin to descend into chaos, both on the earthly plane and in Heaven...

MICHAEL: Lucifer’s counsel helps Michael understand that the same parental issues that caused him to be rebellious and mischievous has caused Michael to be resentful and devious… This revelation helps them both, Lucifer forgives Michael and after awhile, Michael finally forgives himself for being a dickhead, and finally self-actualizes his wings back. Michael returns to the Silver City, and is happily reunited with all his siblings who are pleased that he has found his way... but soon, he feels the tension of the empty throne, he considers trying to claim it, but he is a different angel now, feels that it is no longer his destiny or his desire to rule... he feels unfulfilled in Heaven and returns to Hell to help Lucifer with his giant new task of helping lost souls find their own way out.

Lucifer is surprised and very pleased to be working wing-to-wing with his brother and it helps lighten his work load, but is dismayed to hear of the unrest in Heaven and the disintegration of things on earth. Since Michael has made such a transformation, while Lucifer was still God, he fixes Michael’s wing and shoulder, removes his scar and makes him beautiful again, with shimmering gold wings. Now he’s just as lovely as Lucifer and has no further reason for jealousy.

AMENADIEL: I wanted to see Amenadiel in a situation where he saved that racist boss by stepping in front of him and deflecting a bullet… the same black guy he has been so horrid to has now saved him… Amenadiel could have a few choice words for him, maybe pulls his shirt open and show him there is no bulletproof vest… right before leaving to go back to the Silver City.

NEW REBELLION: Near the end of the Movie: Wouldn't it be great if Lucifer and Michael could return to Heaven for a battle scene and fight together with Amenadiel against a new rebellion led by someone other than Lucifer or Michael? Now Lucifer is finding out how his father felt when Lucifer rebelled against Him all those many years ago! Surprised? Betrayed? Angry? Hurt? (Maybe it could even be Rory or some as-yet unborn angel child that starts this rebellion against him... but this time, it’s not because he wasn’t a good Dad, but because he is not being a good God in their eyes.)

They would find a way to make their brothers and sisters stand down by stopping the rebellion by a show of wit and power but not fighting... maybe just as the battle is about to begin, Lucifer (who is still God at this point) slices a veil of clouds with the flaming sword, showing a brilliant white and diamond view of a Heavenly Host of souls, millions of them... (CGI) all the good souls who have agreed, plus all the souls that he has saved from Hell and ascended to Heaven who have vowed never to serve any angel who takes the throne by force... (this scene would be great close to the end of the movie for a chance to see everyone one last time as they all stand together in the clouds in support of Lucifer), and can include any/all main characters that have recently deceased — if any — Ella, Maze, Eve, Linda, Trixie... previous characters: John and Penelope Decker, Dan and Charlotte, Father Kinley/Dromos and Squee, Delilah, Jimmy Barnes, Father Frank, Candy Morningstar, Reese, Cain, Abel and LeMec and Mr Said Out Bitch and any angels like RayRay, Zadkiel, Sara, Gabriel, and any other fan favorites from the past that we’d recognize, anyone who is available and willing to do it for the right price), and it is an amazing, breathtaking sight to behold... and with Chloe, Michael, and Amenadiel by his side, Lucifer says, “What would be the point of sitting on a throne in an empty kingdom where the only ones to bend a knee will be a few of your own brothers and sisters?”

This has paved the way for the New God...

(Note: For a couple of seconds each, show a view of the couch back home in Hell’s Therapy Office: Julian and his dad Mr. Tiernan are waiting for their session, squabbling. In another room, Malcom is sitting in a lumpy chair in front of a big screen TV that doesn’t work, with a table of food looks beautiful but has no taste or smell, and a glance into another room with Pete surrounded by lilies, listening to angry women — Ella’s voice and his mother’s — screaming at him 24/7. He and Malcom are both staring at a sign above a Red Light that isn’t lit... “Come to Therapy Office when Lit”)

NEW GOD/OG GOD: The three brothers calmed the rebellion, but they still have an empty throne that none of them really want to ascend to... Lucifer is still technically God, and Michael and Amenadiel try to convince Lucifer that he should resume his duties but Lucifer and Michael are now humble enough to know that it is not their calling... their work in Hell needs them.

Big fanfare! Dad comes back, and Lucifer gladly returns the family business back to its rightful owner... ALL of Lucifer’s lessons are NOW FINALLY completed, FINALLY he has a whole new understanding of how tough God’s job was, he has a whole new appreciation and respect for his Dad and the two of them can finally have the relationship they have always needed and Lucifer has always craved and Lucifer will finally have the chance to have a real family with his Dad and Mum, since they worked out their shit in her dimension, (He’s GOD for Heaven’s sake, you damn well know He can travel between dimensions if He wants to, and I’m sure Goddess is equally powerful and can come and go as She pleases too... gimme a break!

PS: Uriel and Remi can make an appearance too, because I am quite sure Dad is very capable of snatching his children’s souls out of their bodies, or creating replicas or holograms or whatever… removing them from harm’s way just in the nick of time, or giving them new bodies up in the Silver City. He IS God!)

God tells Lucifer he saw him at the Colosseum and was practicing blinking his eyes at the end (we saw three quick black outs at the end of season five while Lucifer held up the flaming sword and said, “Oh my Me”... figured it must’ve been God blinking, but it wasn’t mentioned again).

The three brothers now understand the pecking order, Amenadiel is second in command and has his ability to slow time plus almost as many powers as God (but not quite all the “omni’s”), and Lucifer and Michael are 2nd and 3rd in line, having slightly less powers than Amenadiel but more than the other angels, are happy to facilitate the transformation of Hell while helping out in Heaven whenever called upon to do so — those rare times when God, Goddess and Amenadiel are absent, need extra help or errands run somewhere in the world. Lucifer is still the Lightbringer but that is about all that stands him apart from Michael at that point, as they stand together as matching archangels.

And maybe in the end, the seven of them, (Dad, Mum, Amenadiel, Linda, Lucifer and Chloe and Michael) all working together to make earth and hell better places, and raise Charlie, Trixie and Rory and any future angel babies to be the next generation so that Grandpa and Grandma, Moms, Dads and Uncles can actually take a Vacay once in awhile and visit Mum’s dimension... or... Boca maybe? French Riviera? And Michael helps cover the workload in Hell’s Therapy Office, while Lucifer is away.

LINDA: Speaking of Linda, Linda and Amenadiel should realize eventually that they miss each other and really do love each other. In my story, Dad returns and takes his throne back so that would give Amenadiel and Linda plenty of time to fall back in love, especially now that Maze has married and no longer has a reason to be jealous of them. God and Goddess may retire eventually, or at least lighten their load in this dimension so they can work part time in Goddess’s dimension, so it would be nice if Amenadiel wasn’t going to be alone for eternity since he will obviously be second in command, and in charge, when God and Goddess are busy elsewhere. Plus, there’s Charlie and maybe future angel babies???

DAN: I would have shown Lucifer spending more time with Dan but getting frustrated with him like he always did, (and like he did with Mr. SOB), until he finally takes Dan through a rewind of every important scene of the last days of his life, in reverse, to see why he was feeling guilty... he would have landed on Trixie and their game of unicorn armies soon enough. (And by the way... how is it that Lucifer instantly knew the source of Lee’s guilt, and the Professor’s, and apparently everyone else’s in hell, but couldn’t figure out what Dan was feeling guilty about???) The way Dan ended up in Heaven with Charlotte, waffles and chocolate pudding cups was pretty perfect. I wouldn’t change that.

They didn’t need the whole time travel bullshit to pull it off... and it would have made a much better story without it.

MAZE and EVE: Maze and Eve was pretty good... in a movie, we could see more of their daily life, find out if they have a dungeon in their basement... you know, for Saturday night orgies... (or for some quick, fun torture before turning in their bounty catches)... find out if they ever decided to raise a kid together... maybe Trixie went to stay with them when she turned 18?

Plot twist! Maybe something happens to Trixie and Maze sacrifices herself to save her and dies... ends up in Heaven after all. (See below.)

ADAM: I thought the guy they cast for Adam was an odd choice... Eve looked like she came from that region, but he didn’t look like someone who supplied a rib to make her... all things being equal and taking DNA into consideration.... He should have looked more like her.... But oh well, not my place.... Anyway... maybe God can park Adam in Mum’s new universe and see if She can “pull” something better out of him, LoL. Hopefully his first two sons in Her dimension won’t set us all up to be potential homicidal maniacs.

ELLA: Ella and Carol seemed to be getting along ok, we could find out if she finally found a good guy... or does she like tequila too much to stick with him? Does he backslide into drinking and become violent with her? Does she have to defend herself with the taser she keeps on her key ring these days?

LOL. Anyway, there should be a scene where RayRay comes for a visit... maybe two scenes... one where she stops by to say hello right when Ella finds out that celestials are real and then again at the moment of her death. And Ella should feel welcomed and comforted by her friend RayRay in that moment... which could be something violent and dramatic (and very poignant) if it happens when she’s young... like a shooter in the police station or something.

Then she could see Amenadiel and Lucifer when they welcome her into Heaven. After Michael redeems himself, he and Ella might be a great pair in Heaven... she’s always been attracted to bad boys, and Michael, being an ex-bad boy, might be just what she needs... and her heavenly brightness, might be just what he needs! Michael needs somebody to love him and give him the balance that Chloe gives Lucifer. Yes... perfect... and then Michael would also have his eternal mate. Michael could even fly her down to Hell at some point to peek in on Pete… just for shits and giggles.

One final note about Ella... once God returns, now that Ella knows the truth... she will demand a wedding. We all know Ella wouldn’t let Chloe’s baby be born without Chloe being married to the baby daddy... even if he is an angel... and even if the officiant is God... she would want the pomp and circumstance and the flourish for Chloe and for all their friends. (Because their police friends don’t know that Lucifer is an Angel and God-frey is GOD and Lucifer’s brother/aka Officer Amenadiel is an Angel...) she would want to put on the whole shindig as much for them as the for the happy couple! (The fans want it too!) And woweee what a wedding night!

TRIXIE: I would have shown a few short clips and bits or a montage of Trixie as she reached adulthood… not only milestones like getting driver’s license and a not-catholic-Chloe giving her the keys then crossing herself… first kiss, cap and gown pic of high school graduation, but also brief scenes of her holding pic of Dan crying… maybe even looking at her mom’s gun… sitting on Linda’s couch…

Maybe Trixie follows in the family tradition and joins the LAPD when she’s old enough... Pete has been in a mental institution but has conned everyone that he’s sane and is out now… Trixie is in the precinct when Pete shows up bearing a grudge and a semi-automatic pistol… Maze and Eve are there with their latest bounty, Ella is there with some evidence on a case, and is scared when she sees him… Pete shoots at Ella, but Maze jumps him, takes the bullet, starts fighting… Pete isn’t great with a gun (and he’s still crazy) so he misses Ella, but he keeps shooting… then RayRay shows up, tells Ella not to worry, to close her eyes, everything will be fine,(nobody else can see her of course)… Maze ends up saving Trixie and Eve and several other people in the office with her ninja skills, but during the scuffle, one of the bullets hits Ella and several others are deflected, but Maze takes two more hits that would have killed Trixie and Eve and a couple of other officers receive non-life-threatening GSWs. Maze is a tough cookie, but even she can’t survive being shot three times at close range… and RayRay makes sure Ella feels no fear or pain as she transcends then goes back for Maze who survives a little longer. Long enough for a tearful, heartfelt goodbye to Eve... maybe she sings a few bars of Wonderwall? Eve, who, being 13 billion years old herself, may follow her to Heaven with a broken heart (or an aneurism or a ruptured appendix) soon after. Who knows. She’s never been sick before... will she know what to do if she feels a pain in her right side?

Ooooo! I just added this:

As she is dying, Maze thinks Eve’s wound is superficial, (but is it?), and tells Eve she thinks she is “Done, ‘over-and-out” and probably headed for Squee’s chamber of torture in Hell since she’s not sure Lucifer ever finished making the changes regarding who could rule…

After RayRay drops off Ella in Heaven she returns to the precinct massacre… Maze thinks she’s there to take Eve and begs RayRay to let Eve live… To keep us guessing, the scene changes…. SO, did RayRay take only Eve back to Heaven? Or put one under each arm and fly away? Did she take one to Heaven and one to Hell? Stay tuned…

Trixie was saved by Maze’s sacrifice and ultimately becomes a Detective like her mom and dies heroically, in the line, years later, after marrying and giving Chloe and Lucifer a couple of grandchildren to dote over. Happy reunion scene in Heaven with Dad-Dan and Grandma Penelope Decker, meets Grandpa John Decker. Maybe it could do a quick view of the person Trixie gave her life to save who goes on to become a doctor and find a cure for a disease. Framed on the doctor’s desk is a newspaper clipping of a headline, “Ninja Cop Saves Kid” subheading “Officer Subdued Three Suspects Using Karambit, Freed Hostage Before Being Shot”

LINDA: It doesn’t have to be Rory that helps Lucifer figure out that he’s supposed to be a therapist is Hell... LINDA could be the one to point out to Lucifer that he offered Lee, (Mr. Said Out Bitch), some excellent advice, the same way she’s been offering Lucifer advice for the past five years, only Lee actually took that advice (unlike Lucifer who usually skews or screws up her advice)... And that’s why Lee was there in heaven to help him when he crash-landed... “And hey... wouldn’t it be wonderful if someone could give that kind of advice to other souls down in Hell? Because until the moment that YOU TOOK THE TIME to explain it to Lee, NOBODY DOWN THERE KNEW what was causing their hell loops or that they had ANY CHANCE or ANY METHOD of escaping them! Maybe they just needed somebody to give them that clue. What do you think Lucifer? Do you know anybody who might be UNIQUELY QUALIFIED for that job?” — you see??? No need for a friggin' time travel plot device... no need to torture Lucifer, who has already spent billions of years in hell, by taking him away from the love of life and his child for billions more years!

I could also see Lucifer having a standing weekly appointment with Linda both while still living and in Heaven after she passes, to discuss his most difficult cases and get her take on them and opinions on what he should say, which he will get right sometimes and spectacularly fuck up other times!

Linda loves her role as therapist to the celestial world, and her man is God and Goddess’s 2nd in Command now, her son is an angel... she is set for eternity! The doctor is IN!

CHARLIE, RORY, OTHER ANGEL BABIES: After Amenadiel and Linda come to their senses and finally commit to being together, they should have a set of twins, possibly more babies later. Lucifer and Chloe should have at least one more. Angel babies are smart… half humans start normal… get their wings around the time they are potty trained. Linda and Chloe provide discipline, human education… empathy, sympathy, joy, and as much human history as possible. The children would be extremely smart, could skate through school jumping grades… so being home-schooled seems more logical. Controlling excitable, hyperactive children who can fly will prove quite challenging for the human parents, but the angel Daddies are thrilled with their role… teaching them to fly, schooling them about celestial business… Also, they could grow in stature faster than normal human children. They would look grown up by the age of five, but would still be as immature as children and need their mothers to guide their emotional maturity to catch up to their rapid growth.

DECKERSTAR: In my story, we get to see Lucifer and Chloe happy together, raising Trixie and Rory... Chloe always trying to keep her devilish side in check while Daddy's always having fun. Rory has him wrapped around her pinky and he is a doting daddy. She’s a handful, brilliant in school.... Sometimes a little “spirited” and that gets her in trouble.

She gets bullied at school, she says, “back off Billy, you got no idea who my daddy is! Remember the girl that bullied Trixie?

I can picture her first date... Lucifer says, “have her home by 9:30 OR ELSE” and flashes his red eyes...

The first time a date gets fresh with her and she says, “No means NO!” and tosses them out of the car!

Oh hell, watching Lucifer and Chloe raise Rory and Trixie and any other little angels that come along would be hilariously funny... could be it’s own spin off “Devil Daddy Knows Best” or Daddy Devil Knows Best... I can’t decide.

NUDITY: In a movie, we can see more of Lucifer in the nude, and have hotter sex scenes.... Not x-rated or anything, but we could get closer to R-rated... definitely expand on that orgy scene in “Orgy Pants to Work”!!! (Tom’s wife looks enough like Lauren that with the right lighting and camera angles, they could do a lot together using her as Lauren’s body double and with editing, we would never know which was which!!!). And maybe he’d actually KISS HER.

Sure, the whole “Chloe growing older while Lucifer stays young” plot thing is a pain in the ass... for some of the years, he could dye his hair greyer to match hers until it was white, even though his face wouldn’t have aged.... People see what they want to see... but it would have been a lot more heart-wrenching to have a scene where an older-looking Chloe calls a family meeting and asks the children to please understand that society just won’t handle the truth, and they must fake Lucifer’s death so that they can start a new life someplace else where nobody knows them... that means they won’t get to see him very much because he will have to live elsewhere and they can only go visit and have to pretend he’s dead. At least that way, Chloe can see him on weekends and vacations, and he can fly in for quick visits in the middle of the night when either of them get too lonely. They can set things up ahead of time for rendezvous.

At some point, she can retire from the LAPD and announce that she is moving to Florida or Vegas (some place where folks are used to seeing older women with younger men), or whatever, and she can be a cougar and he’s her pool boy? Massage therapist? Chef? (Could be a running joke.)

When she reaches a certain age, it could be a tear jerking scene if she asks him to leave her because she is embarrassed about her failing body, but would he? Why wouldn’t he just agree to allow her to lie to people and say he was living with her because he was her nephew or male nurse or something? Or simply say he was her caretaker… which wouldn’t be a lie… At that point, nobody would know them, and it’s nobody’s business anyway...

And he would definitely be by her bedside when she died, and so would Trixie and Maze and anyone else that was still alive, (if any... or did she outlive them all because she was stuck with the Tree of Life??? Nobody told us if that, and being able to conceive angel babies were the side effects of being stabbed with the Tree of Life...) and upon her death there would be a tender, tearful, “see you soon,” then RayRay would show up, she would transform into her younger self, and Lucifer would fly her to Heaven to see Amenadiel and her Dad, probably her mom by then, and any of their friends if any of them died first.

OR... DECKERSTAR 2nd OPTION:

We could dispense with the whole “she’s growing old and whatever shall we do???” problem, and just have Chloe die doing what she loves best.. protecting somebody in the line of duty. She could be approaching retirement... she and Lucifer could already be having the “I’m starting to look too old to be with you even though you’re dyeing your hair grey... what should we do?” conversation when one day, they are coming out of a fast food joint with the grandkids and bank robbers step out of the bank next door, she yells “LAPD!” they both step in front of the grandkids as she pulls her gun... RayRay shows up one second later… you see where I’m going with this right? Tearful goodbye scene… no rescue this time… Lilith’s ring is empty… this time, it is her human destiny.

After her death, Lucifer would carry her to Heaven to visit her dad and anyone who predeceased her, and then they would travel back and forth together where she would help him redeem souls part of the time in hell. Same outcome as Season 6.

Maybe, since she was a handmade gift from God (via Amenadiel) to start with, God will turn her into an angel and give her matching white luminescent wings so that she can stand beside Lucifer as an equal, and that way, they can also fly to earth now and then for vacations all over the world after all their friends and family members have crossed over (so nobody on earth freaks out from accidentally seeing them again, LoL, but if she outlived everybody anyway... problem solved.) Hey, He’s God, He can do anything, right? ;o)

Along those same lines, in special consideration for all the help and happiness they have brought to Amenadiel and later to Michael, I could also see God and Goddess granting wings and angel status to Linda and Ella so that they can be suitable mates for His sons for their eternity in Heaven, and able to enjoy all of the perks that go along with that… Maybe, if Chloe outlives them all and she is the last to arrive in Heaven, they could even have a little ceremony, where God and Goddess bestow wings and angel status on them all, including Maze and Eve, which might come as a HUGE surprise to Maze, who never dreamed she’s make it to Heaven to begin with.

They could keep the parts where Chloe and Amenadiel work toward cleaning up the LAPD… and we definitely need to hear Tom sing more… a lullaby to his baby… childhood songs when they’re older and of course, show him teaching them the piano and guitar… of course we must have full blown staged musical numbers… maybe have him sing softly to Chloe as she’s sleeping… and/or as she’s dying… it could be amazing. And I loved Bob the Drag Queen… Lux should bring the RuPaul Review and enjoy several of them… they put on a great show!

One more thing... we NEED a making-love scene with Lucifer holding Chloe in his arms while flying! Wings covering everything important, of course, but it is obvious what they’re doing! Joining the mile-high club! How about on the wedding night?!? Whooohooo!!!!! (If Chloe isn’t already pregnant when this wedding night flight happens, maybe this is when Rory is conceived???)

There’s enough there for a movie or about a dozen more episodes of the show... This is only an outline, but but I could write stories myself for some of these ideas… hell, they practically write themselves. Anyway, THAT’S how I would outline a Movie: Lucifer: Revelations… or Lucifer Season 6.66!!!

Now... let’s get busy and do it different this time (with no time travel nonsense and no sadistic torturing DECKERSTAR)! LOL

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dailyaudiobible · 3 years ago

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09/24/2021 DAB Transcript

Isaiah 43:14-45:10, Ephesians 3:1-21, Psalm 68:1-18, Proverbs 24:1-2

Today is the 24th day of September, welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I am Brian, it is great to be here with you today as we continue our journey around the sun and through the Bible and we have worked our way all the way, well, we’re kind of in the last quarter I guess, of the book of Isaiah and we’re also working our way through the letter to the Ephesians. So, let's dive in today Isaiah chapter 43 verse 14 through 45 verse 10.

Commentary:

Okay, so I have mentioned that Ephesians, at least as I read it, it's like an ever upward climb to these higher vistas to see further, to see further horizons, to see more and understand more. And it’s not like Paul’s saying in this letter like, things it he hasn't said in other ways, but he's in prison and he is writing this passionately. This vision of what's really going on here, and if we just meditate on it. If we just take it in slowly. It is so huge. So, Paul is talking about revelations that he has received, mysteries that he is received, that have previously been unrevealed and I quote “this mystery is that in Christ Jesus, the Gentiles are fellow heirs, members of the same body, and people who also share in the promise through the gospel.” Well so, previously the understanding that Paul had as a Pharisee is that the Jews are the exclusive people and that's what they think but this revelation, this mystery that has been revealed to Paul that he is preaching, well that touches all of us because most of us are Gentiles. And so, for Paul to say that the mystery that’s been revealed is that through Christ, Gentiles and Jews are fellow heirs, members of the same body, people who share in the same promise through the gospel. What Paul is saying is that this is available to everybody in the world which is huge and for me, a Gentile a overwhelming flow of gratitude. Paul goes on, as if to answer a question like, why would God do that, why, why would He welcome everybody in the world, and I quote Paul again “He did this so that through the church, the multifaceted wisdom of God might now be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly places. This was done according to the eternal purpose that He accomplished in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Okay, that's pretty cosmic in its implications. This is saying God, in his goodness and offering you eternal life, opening a way, welcoming you home. This makes His wisdom known and we are like a living witness, a living display to the unseen realms, that is huge to contemplate. That is a massive vista to just understand that we are all part of something way bigger than…than we ever pay attention to. Paul says because of all of that, because of this gift and because of what it's doing, in Jesus, we can freely approach God with confidence, through faith in Him. We could say yes, this is a theological formula I’ve known for a very long time but think about that. We can freely approach God, the most high God, with confidence through faith in Him. Let's try to live into this today. Let's try to contemplate, consider, meditate upon, allow it to sink in. Even Paul seems blown away. Even as he is writing it down and he gives kind of a benediction here at the end of our reading and so, let's just let this benediction wash over us as we bask in the goodness of God.

Prayer:

For this reason, I kneel before the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, from whom the entire family in heaven and on earth receives its name. I pray that, according to the riches of His glory, He would strengthen you with power through His Spirit in your inner self, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. Then, being rooted and grounded in love, I pray that you would be able to comprehend, along with all the saints, how wide and long and high and deep His love is, and that you would be able to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled to all the fullness of God. Now to Him, who is able, according to the power that is at work within us, to do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever! Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base. That is the website, and it is how you get connected and find out what's going on around here. So certainly, check it out. If you’re using the app you can access these things by pushing the drawer icon in the upper left-hand corner of the app screen in there or on the web, you’ll find the Community section. In the Community section you’ll find different links to the social media channels that the Daily Audio Bible participates in. You will also find the Prayer Wall which is always on and never off and always available. You can always request prayer on the Prayer Wall. You can also, you know, kind of glance through and see where the Spirit may be leading you to pray and pray for your brothers and sisters who are also going through things and give them a word of encouragement. It means so much to know you’re not carrying it alone; it means so much to know that somebody is praying for you and it's a beautiful thing. It's truly a beautiful thing to know that somebody that you may never actually get to meet in person is praying for you by name because we’re the family of God. So, if you haven't ever visited the Prayer Wall, please be aware it's in the Community section either on the app or at the website, so check it out.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, thank you humbly, humbly for your partnership. There is a link on the homepage at dailyaudiobible.com. If you are using the Daily Audio Bible app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address is P.O. Box 1996 Springhill, Tennessee 37174.

And as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can hit the Hotline button in the app, that's the little red button up at the top break or you can dial 877-942-4253.

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

Prayer and Encouragements:

Hi, Daily Audio Bible, my name is New Eyes and I’m from Chattanooga, Tennessee and I’m calling in for the first time because I was really moved by some prayer requests the other day and I wanted to lift some folks up here in our community. First of all, I would like to thank the Lord for Trent and his encouragement to all of us to be thankful for what we have, I know I definitely need that and I want to lift up Vicki from Southern California and Tammy, who is in remission from ovarian cancer. I really want to lift you ladies up to the Lord, for how much you are just laying at the foot of the cross and trusting God to give you peace in such a hard time. And, I also want to pray for Giovanni whose whole family is sick with the coronavirus. Lord, just bring Your healing, bring Your Holy Spirit and touch Giovanni and his family in this long, frustrating battle with this virus and I just ask that You would bless him. And family, it's my first time calling in and I could really use some prayers this week as I'm sending my 18-year-old son to a youth with a mission discipleship training school in Hawaii and he’s gonna be gone for six months and it's his first time away from home and I'm so excited for him but it's also really hard for this mama. So, if you could lift him up just send him blessings and prayers for an amazing time. I really love this community. You guys are an incredible blessing. Thank you for praying. Keep it up.

Hello Daily Audio family. My name is Sharon I'm calling to ask for prayer for my daughter, Sharon. She's been told she needs open-heart surgery, she's really, we’re really afraid. Each time we speak to a doctor we’re afraid and she starts crying and I start crying. I'm asking that you pray that, pray, send prayers for us that we can get through this situation and come out whole on the other side. I pray with her and I know that God can do all things and I prayed that He will give us the strength, first and foremost, that she doesn't need the surgery and that we will get a second opinion. We just need prayer right now family. Thank you.

Hello my DAB family this is Minnesota Aruka Regina. I haven't talked to you in a while, just want to tell you how much I love you and care about each and every one of you. On September 21st Danielle, I thank you so much for giving us an update on that 19-year-old girl Lord, it just really made me kind of cry and I want to lift her up in prayer. Loving Father, I just am so grateful for You being there for this young 19-year-old gal who was adopted…abducted and violated Father. Thank You for seeing her and for being faithful to find Your precious lost sheep. Lord, I just pray right now that You please speak love into her traumatic soul where she's been hurt and crushed and bruised Lord. I pray that You just reach her heart, let her know that You cried with her in those days that she was gone and it hurts Your spirit. But You were already making a plan for her and You are now helping her. Lord, I pray that You heal her. Let her know that You love her and You care about her and You are a God that can restore Lord. Bring someone into her life that can…can help her to be able to process everything and to break all of the bonds of this troubled man. May she not feel guilty and shameful for what is happening. It's not her fault. Help her to forgive. Help her to learn to love and to be loved again. We give You all the glory and honor in the name of the Father and the Son. Amen.

Hey DAB fam this is Laura in Eugene. I just want to call and lift up Val in Vegas in prayer. Heavenly Father, Lord, I just lift Val up to You, I pray for strength and courage as she recovers from her recent surgery. Lord, I pray for her medical team as decisions for what happens next are coming and I pray that You would help Val to rest in Your peace and Your comfort and Your care, that she could just feel that peace that passes all comprehension Lord. I pray that You would continue to be with her and guide her through this hard time but I’m just so grateful that she’s moving forward and getting the care that she needs Lord. Father, just keep watch over her. Thank You. In Jesus name I pray. Amen.

Hi my name is Maggie Mae and I’m calling in certain dyer straights. My whole family, I just found out my whole family is sick. My three grandchildren, my son. My grandson has got a fever of 105, they don’t know what is wrong with him. He’s only two years old. My older grandson who’s 17 he’s sick with RSV, they said that they don’t know, I don’t even know what that is. My granddaughter is so sick, the only one that’s not sick is the mother. I am beside myself with my grandson who is so, so sick. He’s so sick he’s burning. I pray the blood of Jesus over Armanie over Arianna over Marc Anthony. He just lost his father. I pray for my son Marc Anthony. They’re not saved. Please, God don’t take my family. Please, God don’t take my family. Please, oh please, don’t take my family. Please. Thank you, I’m sorry for the emotions but I feel so hopeless. I feel so hopeless. Please pray for them. Please take care of Dominic, Arrianna and Marc Anthony. Please, thank you.

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kolak-magiya-a · 3 years ago

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Disclaimer: All names are of my own creation and are not to be considered canon characters in FFXIV.

Tags: tw: violence , tw: family death , tw: child death

Summary: An excerpt from Ryce’s past. (long post under the cut)

“There, that should be the last of it.”

Arasen dusted his hands off after setting down the last sack of rice that they’d traded with another passing clan. It was an easy deal made - they needed furs for the coming cold season, and in return, Clan Hotgo needed a food that was filling and easy to make. He had to admit, he was impressed that they’d even managed to get their hands on it, considering their nomadic lifestyle. Still, trade worked wonders.

A soft laugh earned the tall man’s attention to another male who sat nearby, also wiping sweat from his brow. “I swear, Arasen, I could watch you lift heavy things all day. Ye make it look so easy.”

“Well ye might not be so winded if ye’d listen to me. I did say that ye were lifting them wrong.” He easily shot back, placing his hands on his hips and quirking a brow at the other teen. Jakha, leaning back against a pile of rice sacks to rest, rolled his eyes with a smirk, even as Arasen took a seat next to him to also take a break.

“Guess you make a good point.” Jakha sighed, leaning up against the slightly taller male, pale orange eyes looked upward toward the matching sunset as his head rested against Arasen’s shoulder. “...Think it’ll be enough to get us through the cold season?”

“It’ll have to be. We’ve been smart about it before, I’m sure we’ll manage.”

“I dunno, with how much those twins of Kura’s eat, we may run out of stock ‘fore half the season’s pass.” He grunted with a laugh when Arasen elbowed him, but still smirked at the playful jest.

“Need I remind you of our midnight snack heists when we were kids? Heard your mother gave you quite the scolding when she found out.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Jakha shuddered at the thought, earning a laugh from Arasen.

Quiet fell upon them, then, as they looked upward toward the sky. All around them, their camp bustled with folks getting settled for the evening, finishing the pitching of tents and the starting of dinner fires. It seemed to be a peaceful evening thus far, and the sun sinking beyond the western mountains simply helped as the stars came peeking out.

Glancing down at his friend, Arasen couldn’t help but smile. He and Jakha had been friends since birth. As it stood, their births were just hours apart, with Arasen being older by just two. Jokes had been passed around that Jakha was so desperate to be friends, that he kicked his mother, wanting out. He never denied the joke, either.

They basked in the cooler evening air for a little while longer, before eventually they stood and bade each other a good rest. Arasen found his family-tent easily, his father outside making his final adjustments (of which he willingly aided), and his mother and sister inside preparing some food.

He greeted all of them with a gentle nudge of their heads, and allowed his ten-summer-old sister sit in his lap while their mother rested amongst some pillows and their father handed out their supper.

“I heard you oversaw the trading, son,” Kurome, his mother, spoke smoothly, a hand resting around her stomach, swollen with a third child that was due by mid-spring. “How did it go?”

“Well enough.” He answered after chewing some of his food. “Jakha and I had just finished loading everything into the carts before I returned. They were certainly generous with their trade.” He paused, frowning slightly. “I hope it doesn’t mean they’ll be short on food for the cold season.”

“They seemed sure that they needed the furs more than the food. They’ll manage.” His father, Torbei, responded curtly. Arasen supposed that it made sense, but he also didn’t miss the stern tone of his father. Showing compassion for other clans outside of trade was usually not considered at all. He’d always said that Arasen had a soft heart.

He was going to say something else, as he parted his mouth - only to jump when a distant scream pierced the quiet. All heads turned to the entrance of their tent, as more sounds began to join in a crescendo, until it became obvious what it was: The sounds of war.

Torbei rose to his feet and quickly made for the door of the tent, while Arasen urged Kiyo, his sister, to join their mother. By then, their father had already left the tent, and the shouting was apparent. Arasen needed no confirmation: They were under attack.

This wasn’t the first time they’d found themselves ambushed, whether it be from a different clan or some wild animals. That his clan survived this long meant that no attempts were successful. But when Arasen exited the tent, his eyes were met with a horrifying sight. Fires blazed from tents across the camp, screaming could be heard even from nearby as battle ensued. Though many were only just now gathering their bearings under the roaring voice of Atsuaki - the Hotgo Clan leader - and Torbei.

Arasen also joined the fray, running forward - weaponless - toward the first figure that he knew was not of his clan. Much to his horror, he instantly recognized the signs of Clan Dotharl. They weren’t too high in number, but were still widely feared for their thirst for bloodshed. They killed others for the sake and joy of killing.

They had the upper hand, having surprised the unsuspecting Hotgo clan. Arasen could already smell blood and rounding a burning tent, he could see a number of corpses and marked figures of his clan being cut down. Grabbing a blade from a downed figure and friend, Arasen let himself be driven by his rage. The blade sank into the form of the nearest Dotharl. Then another. And another.

Finally, he met up with his father, who bore his own battle wounds. The elder man pulled an arrow from his shoulder and threw it to the ground as a warrior from Dotharl charged. Torbei bellowed a shout as they clashed, but the Dotharl was no match for the elder Au Ra, as they were cut down with a swift blow from Torbei’s blade. Arasen felt his feet carry him toward the scene.

“Father-!”

Eyes widened as Arasen staggered to a halt. An arrow from the shadows came whistling through, piercing Torbei’s throat - then another meeting its mark on his chest. Another Dotharl, hidden in the shadows, emerged as Torbei toppled over.

A scream of rage belted out from Arasen’s mouth as he charged. The Dotharl moved to ready another arrow, but was found useless as the younger figure was upon him in seconds. A head rolled to the ground shortly after, but Arasen paid it no mind as he ran to his downed father.

The glint of fire off of another blade was his only warning, as he turned to another Dotharl figure snarling at him. She bore toward him with murderous fury - only to be halted by an arrow that pierced her eye. Arasen turned, eyes wide. Kurome scowled, and came forward to the clearing where she grasped her son’s arm. She was sporting her own battle wounds, though nowhere near dire enough to fear for her life.

Behind her, Kiyo kept a watchful eye, despite the fearful tears that rolled down her cheeks. Arasen couldn’t blame her, for even he had tears streaming down his face. Kurome’s own eyes were glistening as fires blazed around them, even as she refused to look at her mate’s still body.

“Arasen, you must take Kiyo and flee-”

“What!? Mother-!”

“I am not asking you, Arasen! I have lost my dear mate this night, and I refuse to lose my children! Go!”

Wide-eyed, and in shock, he could do little else but listen to her. Her usually soft-spoken and wise tone was wracked with anger and grief - but mostly fear. Seeing his mother like that struck him hard, but he took a moment to wipe his face, smearing the paint on his face; Then he moved past her, to grab his sister and.. he ran.

Despite his sister screaming for him to stop. He ran.

Despite the pain in his heart. He ran.

He ran for what felt like an eternity. All he knew was that he needed to get away. So he focused on running until the stars began to fade and the sun began its ascent in the East. When the familiar sound of the One River met him did he allow himself to rest.

“..I think this is a safe place to rest..” He muttered. Arasen looked downward to his sister, who had stopped crying just an hour earlier. “Kiyo I should check you for-...”

His feet stopped entirely, heart sinking into his stomach. How had he failed to notice the thrown-blade embedded in his sister’s chest?!

He felt the weight of his failure heavily on his shoulders. Arasen barely registered the ache in his legs as he sank to his knees, still clutching his young sister in his arms.

The heartbroken cry was hard to keep quiet, but thankfully the sound of the river would have covered it well enough. Even as he cried for hours, well into the late morning. Suddenly, Arasen felt so terribly alone. All he could do was look up at the morning sky - clear as though nothing were wrong. As though it would not soon be filled with clouds of smoke. He could no longer bear his clan name. What could he do now?

He decided first, to lay his dear sister to rest by the river. He knew he couldn’t remain here, lest he be found. So, after he was finished, he spent only enough time to wash the paint from his face, and the blood from his clothes. Then.. to the West, he walked.

If nothing else, he’d simply keep moving. It was all he could do...

Ultimately, a new life garnered a new name. He supposed Ryce would have to do.

#;Drabble #tw: violence #tw: family death #tw: child death #feel like this is a little rushed at the end but #I have dnd in 15 minutes so I had to finish it before then lol

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bookiemonsterph · 3 years ago

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The Isle Of The Lost

Synopsis:

Twenty years ago, all the evil villains were banished from the kingdom of Auradon and made to live in virtual imprisonment on the Isle of the Lost. The island is surrounded by a magical force field that keeps the villains and their descendants safely locked up and away from the mainland. Life on the island is dark and dreary. It is a dirty, decrepit place that's been left to rot and forgotten by the world.

But hidden in the mysterious Forbidden Fortress is a dragon's eye: the key to true darkness and the villains' only hope of escape. Only the cleverest, evilest, nastiest little villain can find it...who will it be?

Maleficent, Mistress of the Dark: As the self-proclaimed ruler of the isle, Maleficent has no tolerance for anything less than pure evil. She has little time for her subjects, who have still not mastered life without magic. Her only concern is getting off the Isle of the Lost.

Mal: At sixteen, Maleficent's daughter is the most talented student at Dragon Hall, best known for her evil schemes. And when she hears about the dragon's eye, Mal thinks this could be her chance to prove herself as the cruelest of them all.

Evie: Having been castle-schooled for years, Evil Queen's daughter, Evie, doesn't know the ins and outs of Dragon Hall. But she's a quick study, especially after she falls for one too many of Mal's little tricks.

Jay: As the son of Jafar, Jay is a boy of many talents: stealing and lying to name a few. Jay and Mal have been frenemies forever and he's not about to miss out on the hunt for the dragon's eye.

Carlos: Cruella de Vil's son may not be bravest, but he's certainly clever. Carlos's inventions may be the missing piece in locating the dragon's eye and ending the banishment for good.

Mal soon learns from her mother that the dragon's eye is cursed and whoever retrieves it will be knocked into a deep sleep for a thousand years. But Mal has a plan to capture it. She'll just need a little help from her "friends." In their quest for the dragon's eye, these kids begin to realize that just because you come from an evil family tree, being good ain't so bad.

Title: The Isle of the Lost Series: Descendants Author: Melissa de la Cruz ISBN: 1484720970 (ISBN13: 9781484720974) Pages: 311 pages (Hardcover) Published: May 5th 2015 by Disney-Hyperion Genre: Fantasy, Young Adult, Middle Grade, Children, Adventure

My interest in this novel was thanks to initially seeing advertisements for the first made-for-television Disney movie, The Descendants, which, much like the book here, focuses on the offspring of four of the most notorious neer-do-wells in the Disney universe. (And, as a sidebar, the movie is honestly good, clean fun! I know I’m not in the target audience for it but I really did enjoy it, and the songs are super-catchy.)

Overall, I found The Isle of the Lost to be a speedy, entertaining read. Plot-wise, the novel focuses on and fleshes out the lives of four young antiheros: Mal, daughter of the evil fairy Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty; Evie, daughter of the vain Evil Queen from Snow White; Jay, son of the wizard Jafar from Aladdin; and Carlos, son of puppy-hatin’ Cruella De Vil from 101 Dalmatians. These four teens, their parents, and others like them (read: villains) have been eternally banished to the Isle of the Lost by edict of King Beast (from Beauty and the Beast) who rules the United States of Auradon. As far as the four leads are concerned, they aspire to be as bad as their parents, but they’ve not quite earned their proverbial stripes.

I really enjoyed the character dynamics here, which is what caused me to bump this up from three-stars to four-stars. Even though this is a fantasy story, the teens have to contend with making their parents proud (something that’s a part of growing up even in the real world). Mal struggles most of all as her mother rules the Isle; Evie hopes to maintain her mother’s high standards of outer beauty; Jay is determined to be the best thief on the Isle; and Carlos, who is an inventor at heart, struggles with his fur-loving mom and her demanding ways.

Even though these kids are the flesh and blood of notorious folks, I called them antiheroes for a reason. They’re not do-gooders by nature, so the titles of “hero” and “heroine” don’t fit. On the other hand, these kids aren’t full of cold-blooded, black-hearted evil either, so they don’t qualify as true villains. Instead, they’re antiheroes – figures who are neither consistently moral nor abjectly immoral and who make good, moral choices at times. The best instances of this arrive in the book’s latter half where the gang seeks out the Dragon’s Eye, a magical artifact that will cement Maleficent’s power. Even though from the start Mal acts like this is all about her, her attitude changes and she shows that she’s not entirely like her mom in a good way. As a whole, while there is some teenage drama here (something I cringe at if it happens too much), it’s not all-encompassing as the story focuses more on developing the lead characters as individuals, not having them constantly squabble or wallow in angst.

Overall, character-wise, this is a fun romp, and long-time fans of Disney will be pleased with the incorporation of many familiar faces, from the members of King Beast and Queen Belle’s court to the denizens on the Isle. The author clearly knows her Disney neer-do-wells and presents them in a light that, much like a Disney film, doesn’t negate the fact that they’re not heroes but doesn’t make them psychotic and bloodthirsty either.

As stated, the characters saved this from being a three-star read for me. Writing-wise, this novel is a simple, quick read for adults, but at times, it’s almost a little too simplistic though it manages not to insult an adult reader’s intelligence and, to be fair, this wasn’t penned with grownups in mind anyway. That being said, the best audience for this novel would be pre-teens and young teens (i.e. ages 10 to 15). Anyone younger probably won’t appreciate the character dynamics and/or Disney villain line-up (as they might be too young to be familiar with much of the canon), and anyone older than 16 might not be attracted to the novel’s delivery. However, I, an adult reader, liked it enough to keep it on my bookshelf and I’d definitely read any related books if this happens to become a series. It definitely has potential and I’d love to read more.

Content-wise, this is a very age-appropriate novel for its chief audience. There essentially is no profanity aside from some invented words and a PG-level word here or there, but the occurrence is so sporadic, if you blinked you’d miss them. There really is no violence other than some nasty (but overall harmless) pranks some of the villains pull. Lastly, there is no sexual content of any kind and the interactions Mal and Evie have with Jay and Carlos are chaste and appropriate for their characters’ ages. Overall, parents and guardians should have nothing to fear in handing this novel off to their Disney-loving pre-teen or teen (though I always encourage parents and guardians to read books first as everyone has a different spectrum for gauging appropriateness for various ages).

In the end, The Isle of the Lost is a fun, frothy read with colorful characters and plenty of potential for future adventures. While the writing itself can be a bit too breezy in terms of simplicity, it works as a vehicle to carry the plot and characters. For pre-teens and young teens, this is a treat; and adult readers can enjoy it, too, for its homage to some of Disney’s best of the worst.

#descendants #the isle of the lost #melissa de la cruz

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magaprima · 4 years ago

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““Half of me is beautiful but you were never sure which half.” — Ruth Feldman, “Lilith”

Below the read more is an interesting scholarly article about Lilith by Rabbi Jill Hammer

Lilith is the most notorious demon in Jewish tradition. In some sources, she is conceived of as the original woman, created even before Eve, and she is often presented as a thief of newborn infants. Lilith means “the night,” and she embodies the emotional and spiritual aspects of darkness: terror, sensuality, and unbridled freedom. More recently, she has come to represent the freedom of feminist women who no longer want to be “good girls.”

The story of Lilith originated in the ancient Near East,where a wilderness spirit known as the “dark maid” appears in the Sumerian myth “The descent of Inanna” (circa 3000 BCE). Another reference appears in a tablet from the seventh century BCE found at Arslan Tash, Syria which contains the inscription: “O flyer in a dark chamber, go away at once, O Lili!”

Lilith later made her way into Israelite tradition, possibly even into the Bible.Isaiah 34:14, describing an inhospitable wilderness, tells us: “There goat-demons shall greet each other, and there the lilit shall find rest.” Some believe this word “lilit” is a reference to a night owl, and others say it is indeed a reference to the demon Lilith. A magical bowl from the first century CE, written in Hebrew, reads:” Designated is this bowl for the sealing of the house of this Geyonai bar Mamai, that there flee from him the evil Lilith…” Ancient images of Lilith which show her hands bound appear to be a form of visual magic for containing her.

In the Talmud, Lilith becomes not only a spirit of darkness,but also a figure of uncontrolled sexuality. The Babylonian Talmud (Shabbat151a) says: “It is forbidden for a man to sleep alone in a house, lest Lilith get hold of him.” Lilith is said to fertilize herself with male sperm to give birth to other demons.

In Genesis Rabbah, we encounter a brief midrash that claims that Adam had a first wife before Eve. This interpretation arises from the two creation stories of Genesis: InGenesis 1, man and woman are created at the same time, while inGenesis 2 Adam precedes Eve. The rabbinic tale suggests that the first creation story is a different creation, in which Adam has a wife made, like him, from the earth. For some reason this marriage doesn’t work out,and so God makes Adam a second wife, Eve.

In the ninth or tenth century, a clever collection of legends titled the Alphabet of Ben Sira draws on earlier stories of Adam’s wife, and of Adam’s coupling with demons, and spins an elaborate story in which Lilith is Adam’s first wife:

“When the first man, Adam, saw that he was alone, God made for him a woman like himself, from the earth.God called her name Lilith, and brought her to Adam. They immediately began to quarrel. Adam said: “You lie beneath me.” And Lilith said: “You lie beneath me! We are both equal, for both of us are from the earth.” And they would not listen to one another.As soon as Lilith saw this, she uttered the Divine name and flew up into the air and fled. Adam began to pray before his Creator, saying: “Master of the universe, the woman that you gave me has fled.” God sent three angels and said to them: “Go bring back Lilith. If she wants to come, she shall come, and if she does not want to come, do not bring her against her will.“

he Lilith of this story confronts both Adam and God: she defies patriarchy, refuses a submissive sexual posture,and in the end refuses marriage altogether, preferring to become a demon rather than live under Adam’s authority. Notice that Lilith flees to the Sea of Reeds:the place where the Hebrews will one day go free from slavery. In this version of the Lilith story, Lilith becomes what all tyrants fear: a person who is aware she is enslaved.

This version of the Lilith tale in the Alphabet of Ben Sira quickly spread throughout Jewish life, and others expanded on it. The Zohar, a mystical work from 12th century Spain, imagines Lilith not only as the first wife of Adam but also as the wife of Satan. In the Kabbalah, Lilith takes on cosmic power. She is a chaotic counterpart to the Shekhinah (the feminine Divine Presence, the bride of the Infinite). In fact, the Zohar imagines that while the Jews suffer in exile, the Holy One (the masculine aspect of the Divine) separates from the Shekhinah, and consorts with Lilith.Lilith’s sexual-spiritual link with the Divine will only end when the Messiah comes and the brokenness in the world is mended.

In folk Judaism, the primary myths about Lilith continue to identify her principally as a stealer of babies. Numerous amulets for pregnant women and babies from medieval through modern times use the three names of the angels mentioned in the Alphabet of Ben Sira (Sanvi, Sansanvi, and Samangelof) to ward away Lilith. Such amulets may also contain a circle with the names of Adam and Eve on the inside of the circle, and the name of Lilith on the outside: a clear warning to Lilith to stay outside the family realm. A red ribbon is also sometimes placed on a crib to ward off Lilith.

In the modern period, the tale of the put-upon wife who flees to a place of liberation became a celebrated paradigm. Numerous modern Jewish poets and authors, female and male, wrote accounts of Lilith that use old stories to express new ideas.

Perhaps the best-known of the new Lilith tales is”The Coming of Lilith,” by Judith Plaskow. In this feminist midrash, Lilith flees the garden because she is an “uppity woman” who doesn’t want to be pushed around by Adam or God. However, she misses female companionship.Lilith soon sneaks back into the garden and befriends Eve. Eve has been told Lilith is a demon, but once the two women share their stories, they become allies and companions in the search for knowledge.

Enid Dame, in her poem “Lilith,” imagines Lilith as an eternal bohemian who leaves Eden, drops in and out of men’s sexual fantasies in the Middle Ages, and now lives with a cab driver in New Jersey,where she still cries in the bathroom as she remembers Eden “and the man and the God I couldn’t live with.”

In Lynn Gottlieb’s story of Lilith, Lilith is made from the sky and Adam from the earth. In her love for Adam, Lilith chooses to forget she came from the sky, and she becomes Eve, settled and happy but ignorant of her own true nature. In her story, Gottlieb dramatizes the struggle of women to love men while still loving themselves.

On the other hand, Jacqueline Lapidus’ brief poem”Eden” imagines a lesbian encounter between Lilith and Eve. Using the Lilith legend, Lapidus invents an origin story for love between women. Scholar and author Ohad Ezrachi frequently writes about Lilith as a split-off sexual component of women, an image created by men fearful of a full relationship. He encourages men and women to see Lilith and Eve as the same person.

Lilith has become such a popular figure that whole enterprises (like the women’s music concert Lilith Fair and the Jewish feminist journal Lilith Magazine) are named after her. Once a source of fear, Lilith has been transformed into an icon of freedom. While some disapprove of this widespread embrace of a former demon, Lilith’s rehabilitation makes sense. The frightening character of Lilith grew, in part, out of repression: repression of sexuality, repression of the free impulse in women, repression of the question “what if I left it all behind?” As modern Jews begin to ask questions about sex, freedom, and choice more directly, Lilith becomes a complex representation of our own desires.

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