#also i feel like the first case is the one overused in the west while the second is very popular in japan as well smh

[derangedfujoshi]

Every time someone who doesn't really get/like mahou shoujo tries to create something for the genre the end result will always be one of the two: "omg this girl doesn't want to be a magical girl! So quirky🤪" or "blood blood blood trauma goreporn sufferporn blood blood death! So different😈"

And an angel loses its wings.

[elianas-cozycorner]

𝓜𝓲𝓭𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓯𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼

Title: “Midnight Confessions”

Author’s Note: One of the final three (3) requests I have from 2018, this particular scenario is something I’ve wanted to write for a while. I absolutely love this plot device, no matter how cliché or overused it may be. I hope you guys enjoy this and have as much fun reading it as I did writing it. To the anonymous requester, I hope you see this. I really wanted to bring justice to your idea, even if it’s more than two years late. 

Request: “Could u possibly do something where the reader and McCree share a bed on a mission (or maybe they just get hurt and r resting) and McCree lays w/ them n stuff and while they’re “sleeping” he confesses his love and that he’s scared to love but it turns out they heard the whole thing ? if not that’s fine, thank u! I love ur writing!” - Anon

Rating/Pairing: 

Jesse McCree/Reader 

Fluff & Brief Angst; GA (General Audiences)

2nd Person, Gender Neutral

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2.2k | Added a “read more” due to the length.

When operations go wrong, there’s little that can be done to reverse the initial mistake. Not only are lives put on the line, but so too are relationships and the foundations of friendship. Being under constant fire, unable to reach backup or safety, really wears down the body and mind. Though some may find a thrill in it, eventually that too wears away. 

In your case, you had been pinned down for nearly an hour. Though your position had been defensible, it was on track to becoming more of a hazard than anything else. It wasn’t clear who was to blame for the mishap, everything having happened so fast, but one moment the team you were apart of was working together and the next you were alone with Jesse McCree. 

Sighing, you pressed your back to a stone wall. It was one of the only walls that sheltered you from the flying bullets and sniper fire. Jesse was crouched across from you, trying his best to peer around the corner for the next viable bit of cover. 

You picked up your earpiece, taking it from the place it had fallen when you had run for cover. Quickly bringing up two of your fingers, you activated the line. “Commander? Commander are you there?”

Jesse spared you a glance, worry in his eyes as he took in your features, before turning back to make sure no one had advanced on your position. There was a faint crackle of static before your attempt at communication was answered.

“I’m here, agent.” Reyes’ voice was rough and you could hear the noise of gunfire through his link. “What’s your status?” 

You knew that he could hear the gunfire on your end as you answered. “We’re pinned down, I don’t think McCree and I will be able to get to you.”

Reyes cursed under his breath before answering. “Everyone’s on board. We’re ready to get the hell out of here. This aircraft has taken too much damage for us to wait any longer. We’ll give you as much cover as possible, but you two are gonna have to get yourselves out of there. Figure out how to get somewhere safe, you know the drill, agent.”

McCree, whose communications system was linked to yours, nodded. You could see he was too focused to give a verbal answer, so you kept speaking. “Copy that. We’re ready when you are.”

__________

“We’ll keep in touch, agent.” The words ran through your head over and over again, even opened the door in front of you. 

After Reyes had provided enough aerial cover for you and McCree to get to safety, you had both gone to the nearest safe house. Each assignment Blackwatch, or Overwatch, gave its agents was well thought out and discussed. Drop sites that were busy had cheap motels or hostels listed in their information packets, or predetermined safe houses when the locations were more secluded. In this case, it was a secluded safe house. The information sheet you had pulled up earlier made mention of a stocked kitchen, running water, and first aid supplies. What it had failed to tell you was how small the place would be.

It was practically a one room flat in the form of a cabin. Half walls separated the less private rooms, with only the bedroom and bathroom having proper privacy. The rooms were cold, the thermostat untouched for a long time, but it would do.

Flicking on a light switch, you watched as the florescent bulbs lit up the kitchenet and living space nearest the door. A deep sigh escaped you as you finally allowed your body to relax, dropping the small bag on your shoulder near the door. “Well, Cowboy, this is home for the next 48 hours.”

The brunette man behind you had the decency not to laugh as he made his way past you. “Seems so, sugar. You can take the bathroom first, I’ll take a look ‘n’ find somethin’ for-”

“Us to change into. I know. You talked about showering and getting your wounds dressed the entire way here, Jesse.” You said, smiling despite the pain of your split lip, as you went to find bath supplies.

“Wasn’t aware I talked so much.” He laughed, shaking his head and making his way to the bedroom.

“You always talk, Jesse.” You were already halfway into the bathroom, a towel in hand, when you heard him laugh in reply.

You took your time removing your armor and torn, military grade suit. It wasn’t often that you came out of a skirmish so battered, so the shock didn’t fully register until you’d locked yourself in the room alone. Sighing, you focused on getting out of you clothes and tried to ignore the sounds of bullets echoing in your head. It was more painful a process than you’d expected, as you’d gotten grazed by more bullets and scraped by more gravel than you cared to admit.

Just as you let out a hiss, there came a knock on the bathroom door. You heard Jesse’s spurs jangle before he spoke. “You alright, darlin’? I left some clothes out on a chair here.”

You called out, “Just fine, Jesse! Thank you, I’ll grab them on my way out.”

“Sure thing.” He smiled as he spoke, and though you couldn’t see it, you could hear it in voice.

It made you smile as well, knowing you had your best friend looking out for you. The longer you thought about Jesse and his kindness, his thoughtful but flirty nature, the more your cheeks reddened and stomach fluttered. You’d harbored feelings for the modern gunslinger for a long time, nearly as long as you’d been friends. It was something you kept to yourself, mainly because of Blackwatch’s strict dating guidelines for its agents. Stepping into the shower, you knew the next 48 hours would be tough to get through. 

_________

Stepping out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, you found yourself staring directly at the bare chest of your cowboy partner. “Jesse.”

“Darlin’.” The smile on his face grew, becoming a large smirk, as he noticed the blush across your face. “Clothes are over there. Mind gettin’ out o’ the way? Man’s got to shower just as much as the next person.”

You shook your head, blinking quickly as you looked back at his face. “You’re the one in my way, Jesse.”

Chuckling, he stepped aside and let you grab the clothes before heading into the bathroom. The image of his bare chest replayed in your mind as you dressed, despite you having seen him that way before. Jesse was built well, sturdy and muscular. His body had definition and flexed with strength when he moved. Slim, muscled, and padded in just the right places, you’d say. Attractive. That’s what it was. Jesse had an attractive body and personality. 

Perhaps that’s why you’d spent so long harboring feelings for him, when you could have tried getting over it. Jesse was a good man, though he had his flaws, and he was always kind to you. He had been your first friend in Blackwatch, your first confidant. You’d been thick as thieves for the longest time, attached at the hip. You’d known him for so long, that it hadn’t been a surprise to you that you found his body similarly attractive. It had been painful to watch him go through relationships and flings, wishing one day he would chose you and stay.

Sighing, you tried to get rid of those intrusive thoughts by taking care of your injuries. Knowing Jesse McCree so well also meant knowing his trouble with commitment and genuine emotion. He got scared, you could easily tell, and pushed people away when they got close. He may have been worth it, worth the bumps in the road, but no one else knew him enough to know that. Not like you did. 

Clink. Clink. Clink. Your thoughts were interrupted by McCree coming out of the shower, fully dressed, and fiddling with his peacekeeper. He seemed to have taken care of his flesh wounds while in the bathroom, a couple bandages visible beneath the black shirt he wore. His damp hair stuck to his forehead, no hat on his head, and accentuated the small cut running down his temple.

He barely looked up as he stopped in the doorway. “Darlin’-”, He started.

You shook your head, standing to take his pistol from his grip. “Let me look at that cut, Jesse.”

Looking up at you, he gave you a gentle smile. “No need, darlin’, it’s not very deep. Ought to heal like a charm.”

“No, sir, can’t have that getting infected now. Besides,” You glanced at the only, small bed in the room and then at the couch just beyond the doorway to the room. “We can talk about sleeping arrangements as I do.”

Wordlessly, he sat at the edge of the bed and let you get to work. “You know, that couch is old.”

“Mhm,” You focused on your task, making sure to pay attention to his words nonetheless. “It’ll likely be a back killer.”

“Absolutely. Reckon I should take it.” He moved his head a little, wincing at the pressure you put against the cut.

“I have the better back, Jess.”

“Sure, but we wanna keep it that way. ‘Sides, I wouldn’t be much o’ a gentleman if I let you take it, would I?” His comment made you laugh and he smiled at you, glad to see you so happy.

“Stuck in the West again? Acts of chivalry are rare nowadays, Jess.” You said and pulled your hands away from his face, finished with your work.

“We could share.” His suggestion threw you off, especially when you saw he wasn’t joking. 

“You sure?” Your voice was a little nervous as you spoke, something he picked up on.

“As the day I was born. Only if you’re comfortable, darlin’.” 

“Yeah. Okay,” You smiled, helping him to his feet.

________

Jesse was wide awake, his thoughts running a mile an hour. On his back, he could feel where your back met his side, he could feel each even breath you took. He didn’t have any reason to suspect you were awake. You lay facing away from him, eyelids heavy, breath even, and mind somewhere else. He assumed you’d fallen asleep.

With a soft sigh, he pulled his hands from behind his head and turned around. He tried his best not to wake you, keeping his chest from being flush against your back. He tried his best to keep his hands from touching you, but couldn’t help it when he reached up to brush some hair out of your face. It caught your attention, but you didn’t move, too sleepy to care. You just listened as he sighed once more and shifted just a little closer. 

“Darlin’,” He whispered. “I’ve gotten ‘round to thinkin’...”

He paused, almost as if trying to convince himself to stop talking. “I’ve been thinkin’, and I can’t live without you. I’m scared. I’ve loved you for so long now but I’m jus’ so afraid. I could’ve lost you today. I don’t know what went wrong, I don’t want that fear of not knowing in my heart, but I ain’t strong enough to tell you-”

He took a deep, steadying breath before reaching out to you. He wrapped his arm around your waist and, carefully so as to not ‘wake’ you, pulled you completely into him. “Look at me. Confessin’ in the dark while you sleep, not hearin’ a word. It’s pathetic. Truth is, no matter how much I try, I can’t seem to say the words to your face. I want to look at you and say it, I want to keep you close, but I’m a coward. I’ve never been the type of man to commit to no one like that. I don’t think I’m the kind of man to love like that. Never have been. But damn, darlin’, if I can’t help wantin’ that with you. Want to keep you safe, by my side, always, but... but I ain’t the type of man worthy of you like that...”

He trailed off and you, now wide awake, could feel small drops of water hit the back of your neck. Jesse McCree, the strong, charming cowboy was crying. It broke your heart, so much so that all the words you’d thought to say to him left your mind. He was so worth it, so much more than he gave himself credit for, and you loved him. Just as he was.

Turning around, you watched his face mold from sorrow into shock. He tried speaking, but you didn’t give him the chance, “Darlin’-”

Your lips met his before he could utter any more words. It was a soft, emotional kiss that tasted of salt. His tears fell harder, and you only pulled away to hug him closer. Wrapping your arms around him and locking your legs together, you didn’t have to say much to get him to hear you.

“You are my everything, Jesse. I’ve always loved you.”

[capricornus-rex]

Hey hi!! I just wanna say first that I love your writing and you just capture Cal so well and your talent oml we stan 🙌 would you take a prompt of Cal being very confused as to why his girlfriend keeps crying every five seconds because he has no idea at first what's even happening and like it takes him a minute to put it together (it can be that time of the month or it can be pregnancy hormones, whatever's easiest, I'm sorry hormones made ya girl emotional and moody) pls & thanks!🙇

Hi Anon! First of all, thank you so much!! 🥺💞 Second, I AM SO SORRY that this took a while!! I know I shouldn’t be overusing the excuse that I’m swamped with requests and my fics tend to be more than just oneshots, but that’s the predicament right now. I hope you understand 😭😔 Anyways, I’m glad you still took the time to write to me ;;w;; I just feel reaallly bad that I made you wait long. Still, I hope you enjoy the fic, anon and thank you too!

Chapter 4: Untimely Blessing | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: After a long time of running and fighting, you and Cal decided to finally settle down after all these years to raise a family. However, it was never a life of peace whilst the shadow of the Empire looms over your heads.

Other prompt/s in play: Anon 1′s prompt, Anon 2‘s baby prompt & Own fic idea

Also posted in AO3

Tags: Scruffy! Cal Kestis, Daddy! Cal Kestis, Adult! Cal Kestis, Jedi Family, Jedi Offspring, Force-Sensitive Offspring, Settling Down, Rebel Alliance

Chapters: 1 – 2 | Previous: Part 3 | Next: Part 5 | Masterlist

4 of ?

The weather was nice in Cerinda. Cal had been practicing with a self-made obstacle course in the forest, west of the lake where your wedding was held; meanwhile, you decided to take a breather by your wedding venue. You almost hated to admit that you couldn’t walk for perhaps a day and a half after that little private time you had in the Mantis with your husband.

About three weeks have already passed after that.

And for those three weeks, there was this feeling swirling in the pit of your stomach. Cal had noticed you craving for a lot of sweets—especially Jogan berries and space waffles—and you yourself felt sluggish, so you decided to sit by the sidelines of the training course.

While he had physical training, you meditated by the lake’s shore where it was tranquil. The peace helped you in getting into focus.

Your skin suddenly crawled in a good way, even though you were taken aback, you kept your eyes closed trying to keep yourself concentrated; but you ended up reminiscing how Cal’s lips trailed along your body, how his hands wandered and sank into your flesh. The feeling of his lips suckling at the exact same spots where he left his love bites jolted your nerves—your hand rubbed across your neck, chest, and shoulder and then crawled downward to your abdomen. You chuckled to yourself as the memories replayed in your head, struggling to remain focused.

“BD-1, over here!” Cal’s distant voice rang among the trees, but that didn’t distract you enough.

Suddenly, something was bubbling in your stomach and you could feel it rising to your throat each second. Your eyelids shot up and you fumbled onto fours, crawling away to anywhere until your entire body gave way, and allowed yourself to retch behind a tree trunk.

You coughed and spat out the bile, you clumsily crawled towards the edge of the lake, scooping a handful of water to your mouth to wash off the sour acidity that lingered in your cheeks. You did this for a couple of times until the taste was truly gone.

“Oh my…” you gasped, crawling away from the spot where you had your little accident and lay flat on the grass.

Your hand hesitated to crawl downward, to your lower abdomen just below your navel; your heart pounded with mixed emotions—you can’t pinpoint if you’re excited, nervous, or completely taken by surprise. But you’re primarily the latter, you just needed a second emotion to balance it out.

“Could it be…?” you mumbled.

You took a deep breath before your hand slithered below your navel, calming your heart of the eagerness—just to avoid breaking it if it wasn’t the case—and when your whole palm padded against your lower abdomen…

You felt it.

A tiny kick.

A little pulse.

Your heart leapt. You gasped—supposedly a laugh, but you were overtaken by emotion—your fingers rubbed across your tummy again.

There it is again!

“Aww…” you fawned, on the verge of happy tears.

Cal came out of the trees’ trail, spotting you lying down on the grass with your hand on your stomach. He bobbed his head to the side, quizzically looking at you wiping away a tear while standing at a distance.

“[y/n]?” he called to you, kneeling by your side on the grass.

Your attention shifted to his direction. He sat there next to you with a slightly confused look—mixed with a hint of concern for you.

You quickly propped yourself on your elbows, and then shifted to your knees. His nervous eyes followed your position.

“Are you alright?”

“Cal…” you started. Unable to say the words—even though they’re already at the tip of your tongue—you take both of his hands and reeled them to your stomach.

Your husband’s eyes widened. His smile stretched from ear-to-ear when he felt the ripple of life coming from within you. His heart bounced in perhaps the fastest beat it has ever beaten in years.

“Cal, I’m pregnant!” you announced.

BD-1 trilled a long note in reaction, the little droid is just as surprised as his owner is!

The redhead stammered and blinked away several times, struggling to gather all the words he needed to express; when he cradled your face in his hands, you could feel just from his touch that he was bursting with sheer, indescribable happiness. He exhaled sharply, his breath warm as he touched foreheads with you.

“This… This is wonderful!” he gasped. He couldn’t speak further, acting purely on impulse, he closed in to kiss you—he pressed his lips long and hard to yours. “We’re having a baby!”

The forest echoed with your laughter. Cal snatched you into his arms and held you for so long as he buried his face into your neck, muffling his continuous laughing, and slowly rocked you back and forth.

Cal remained with you by the lake for the rest of the afternoon, he couldn’t take his hands off of your stomach; he wanted to keep feeling for the faint pulse of the conceived child in your womb. He started to daydream about the games he and the baby would play, how they would turn out to be—if they’ll have your eyes or his, if they’ll take after their mischievous father or their headstrong mother, whatever the case, he has already loved them the moment he felt the smallest beat.

—–

It was your third month since the conception of your child. The first few weeks were difficult and overwhelming, considering that this is your very first pregnancy. Luckily, you had help with Merrin and Cere. Still, it felt like your energy was slowly ebbing way as the weeks went by.

To avoid getting rusty with your combat skills, you continued to practice your swings, spins, and flourishes without using getting to the more acrobatic moves that required jumps and wide strides. Cal also kept a close eye on you when it comes to practicing, seeing that you’re still eager for sparring.

“I am so against this!” he exclaimed.

“Come on, the training droids aren’t really doing much help!” you whined.

He wagged his finger at you as if scolding a child, “Only one round, okay? Whoever wins, that’s that.”

“Deal!”

Even if you were still itching for action, you moved with the greatest caution and care—both for yourself and your baby—you improvised the moves that were usually lively, you replaced the low ducks and slides with spinning, dance-link evasions that still eluded an attack in the same grace.

However, the power and strength of your sword arm didn’t seem to dull over time. You fenced with your husband—the contrast in the lightsaber techniques have become more obvious now, and he was being careful himself, he knew that you didn’t want to take it easy and so he came at a compromise.

“Aha!” he exerted as he had you at swordpoint.

“Okay, you got me. Deal’s a deal,”

“That’s my girl,” he cooed.

“Don’t be so smug, love. I want another try next week,”

When you got back to the Mantis, you staggered on your footing for a few seconds. It was a good thing Cal caught you before you slammed your back against the ship’s wall.

“How are you feeling, [y/n]?” asked Cere.

“A little lightheaded, more often than I probably should,”

“Usually, that becomes quite the norm, especially when a mother’s at her third month,” Merrin added.

“Is that so…?”

A few seconds later, the lightheadedness was gone and you settled yourself on the couch next to Merrin. Like the entire crew, everyone was so delighted to hear the news. First the engagement, then wedding, and now a baby!

But the most excited one is Merrin; if not Cal, the Nightsister was constantly by your side. She was practically your sister ever since. She offered to mix up potions that would help in easing your pregnancy without harming both you and the child; she was also the one who gave the most advice.

“My mother herself was a midwife, besides being an acolyte. She taught me everything, even if I never saw myself being in the same position as her,” the Nightsister disclosed.

Nevertheless, she was still delighted for your bundle of joy. The two of you traded secret wishes and future daydreams revolving around the child.

One evening, in the middle of the night where everyone had gone to sleep, you jumped out of bed, rushing towards the bathroom to vomit… again. For the second time this day. Earlier, Merrin had concocted a potion that was said to help ease the tensing of the belly, so the cramping would lessen for a few hours. For a while, that potion seemed to have worked—but it didn’t stop you from running to the bathroom just to retch it out again.

Cal was awakened by the abrupt shuffling of the bed, he heard the faint pitter-patter of your bare footsteps leave the room and followed you to the bathroom.

“No, not again…!” he heard your hushed voice as you rushed out of the room.

The sound of your retching was muffled behind the door. Bile exited your stomach, leaving a stinging feeling in your core. You ended up crying in exchange of not straining yourself and hurting your baby in the process. You struggled to cough out what’s left, but only clear saliva spat out of your mouth.

Your kneecaps suddenly softened, your grip around the sink’s rim was your remaining support to keep yourself from falling to the ground. Suddenly, you felt an arm coil around your waist and a hand rubbing across your back.

“Hey,” your husband cooed. “Are you okay?”

You sniffled, washing away the dribble on your nose, but you didn’t answer.

“Are you hurting?” he continued.

“I keep feeling sick,” you sobbed, rubbing the bridge of your nose as you try to fight back the tears. “Merrin’s potion works, but only for the cramps.”

Anxiety was also a constant in your visits to the bathroom during the wee hours. You hated yourself for stressing out on bad dreams, you always had to bite your knuckles when breaking down to muffle out the cries behind the bathroom door.

Swallowing the lump in your throat did little in repressing your tears, some droplets escaped your eyes, Cal spotted them instantly and wiped them away with his thumb.

“It’s okay, I’ll stay with you until you feel like sleeping,” he consoled as he guided you out of the bathroom when you were ready.

“You don’t have to do this, you need to go back to sleep,” you gently scolded.

“You’re my wife,” he said firmly, a steely yet gentle look in his eyes glinted. “I’ll be here for you. Anything you need, okay?”

You hoisted and folded your legs, leaning against Cal’s shoulder as you try to calm yourself down. He feels for your stomach again, speaking to his unborn child through his mind.

Don’t give Mommy a hard time, sweetheart. He prayed as his lips nuzzled your temple while stroking your hair.

Two more months have passed. It’s the fifth month now, your belly had grown significantly. The morning sicknesses have seemed to lessen as time went on, however, in exchange it has become a little bit more difficult to move. The weight that you carried along with you has become more apparent; but that didn’t matter to you, all you could think about is the baby and you looked forward to its kicking. You and Cal sat together in the couch by the holotable, he now uses both hands to hold your stomach and found that they could no longer contain your belly.

“Oh, there’s a little kick,” he giggled.

You bobbed your head to the side, leaning against your own arm as you stare at Cal. You didn’t even realize that he must have shaved his stubble for just a little bit. Your knuckles stroked his beard and then your skin suddenly felt the smoothness of his freckled cheeks; his lips followed to where your palm is and nuzzled in for a kiss. When turned to you, his smile dissolved when he spotted a tear that you yourself didn’t even notice.

“Something the matter?”

“I’m a little scared, a little nervous. I mean… I’m so close now, Cal. I don’t even know if I—”

“Hey, you’re gonna be great,” he cuts in. He gingerly caressed your nape, fingernails raking the bottom of your hair, “I promise.”

He leaned closer to plant a long and tender kiss on your forehead. He kept his hands on your tummy, feeling for his baby, and he started guessing.

“It’s definitely a boy,” he beamed. “A kick that hard? Definitely.”

“Oh-ho, so someone’s gonna take your title of being the ‘One Who Kicks Ass’ in the Mantis?” you played along.

“Aww, he’s gonna have to get through me to steal my crown!”

[danwhobrowses]

Justice League Snyder Cut - Review

Fan Power has willed the Justice League back to life

The much-awaited Snyder Cut came out earlier this week and at last I have found time to watch it, so now it’s time to review it

Did it live to the hype or did it fall and flounder like Whedon’s?

Spoilers for the Snyder Cut underneath, find 4 hours to watch it and come back. You can watch via HBO Max, NowTV (who do a 7-day free trial) and Sky Cinema

I will also preface that these are my opinions, everyone has them and they are not all the same, these are my thoughts about the film

And I did like the movie, I think it was much better than the Whedon one but not as much a flawless masterpiece it could’ve been

What wasn’t Great Every movie has flaws, and longer movies tend to have more flaws. While these are gonna be things I didn’t think were great about the movie this does not mean they entirely ruin the film for me.

4 Hours is Probably Too Long The 4-Hour runtime was manageable in terms of pacing, however, there were several scenes that kinda felt like padding - which for a 4-hour movie isn’t really necessary. Scenes like the two where it’s just a character walking to a song wasn’t needed and felt more like it was there for the sake of it being in trailers, and while I am a heavy advocate of trailers not showing us scenes not in the movie. As much as it was nice to see Iris West, because it didn’t really do anything for the film it didn’t need to be in the film, Quality over Quantity. The Epilogue’s Knightmare and Martian Manhunter sequence for the most part felt like it was lumped on too, like we had 2 other Knightmare Sequences of Superman breaking bad, the third one didn’t really give us anything new except for Joker, Mera and Deathstroke being a part of the Knightmare Squad.

Some Still Sour Casting While not entirely Snyder’s fault you do get a bit of a pit having to see some actors reprising their role, Amber Heard as Mera particularly. Eisenberg’s Luthor also didn’t feel like it was much better (though these were old scenes, I am aware of that). Leto’s Joker also was a mixed bag, ups and downs.

Keeping Some Bad Scenes from Whedon, and Cutting the Few Good Whedon Scenes So while it was rumored that the film would be completely different from the Whedon JL film it was of course not the case. While many, many scenes were altered, some scenes that weren’t too great still made it to the Snyder Cut, small scenes with crappy dialogue for sure but you notice them. I think the one that annoyed me though was the omission of the good scene in the Whedon version and it’s when Bats gives Flash the ‘Save One Person’ pep talk, I thought that scene went a long way in imbuing Flash with the confidence to embrace his heroics more, I also liked when he sharpied the guy’s face before visiting his dad in prison, sold his more playful personality.

Flash needs to Pick a Lane As much as Flash was the comic relief character at times, it did feel like he would flit between Competent and Incompetent throughout the film. This is where the Whedon JL pep talk scene could’ve forgave this, because Flash will either be invaluable in a fight, or a detriment to himself and others, sometimes at the same time. Boy trips over a lot! And his Iris scene was kinda creepy...

...And So Does Diana’s Romance Angle Frankly, Diana doesn’t need a romantic subplot, it doesn’t really progress her character at all for the situation at hand. But across the film there seemed to be bits here and there that looked like the movie wanted to nudge potential romances with her and other League members, and that’s members plural. The main romance seems to be the Bruce/Diana bit, they have had a tiny flirt in BVS so the one scene makes sense, but then there was this weird energy with her and Cyborg and then also her and Aquaman. I can understand the sentiment that every dude there finds her attractive but it’s not exactly necessary to try and push any of the three to be more than platonic, and Diana isn’t quite the mother hen trope that Alfred is.

Some CGI and Dialogue doesn’t quite fit TV CGI of course gets a hit and miss, but Cyborg many times does suffer a bit of uncanny valley, as does Steppenwolf’s armor. The dialogue also suffers sometimes, some things that look good on paper don’t come across the same way because of the tone and inflection used in the speaker. A prime example is when Diana, for some reason, only seems to call Clark by his Kryptonian name, another being Silas’ recording to Victor. The ‘Mrs’ ‘Doctor’ is always a cringey cliché, the headmaster wasn’t undermining you by gender, if he called Silas Mr. Stone there wouldn’t be such offence, it’s just an eyeroll. Cyborg’s ‘Didn’t think you were real’ is also dumb in context, he is a cyborg made from a Mother Box who recently talked to an Amazon goddess and fought Parademons, he knows about Superman but the Dude dressed in a Bat Suit for 20 years can’t possibly be real.

“This Place, it’s Toxic” This is a small one, but Steppenwolf’s base of operations isn’t much better than Whedon’s. Though it’s not populated, it’s supposed to be toxic, something Steppenwolf makes not of when he arrives. But all that kinda goes out the window when the Justice League lot come in and raid it. At the least when Whedon’s had a family living in it we could see that the environment wasn’t too hostile for humans to breathe in let alone fight in.

Cyborg’s ‘heart’ doesn’t fully land Upon promoting the Snyder Cut, a lot of focus came down to Ray Fisher’s Cyborg. The promotion suggested that he would be the ‘heart’ of the story, and the league, but upon watching the story unfold it didn’t quite land. When I hear that someone’s the ‘heart’, it’s more than just that they are core to it, it means that they carry the emotional story as well, and Cyborg’s emotional story wasn’t really something to be moved by. He rightfully has resent for his father and his father tries to make up for it, mutually having care for each other but not being great at showing it. While Cyborg was a good character showing good development, I wouldn’t say he kept the promotion of him being the heart of the movie. Also his ‘helping’ breaks the financial system, I mean you could’ve helped a different way.

There’s not Six, there’s Seven! But J’onn sits this one out The reveal of Martian Manhunter was great, J’onn has been one of my favourite DC heroes since the animated Justice League Unlimited where Carl Lumbly gave us a uniquely compassionate, intuitive and someone ethereal kind of hero. But in Justice League his reveal as the army guy in Man of Steel left me lacking a little bit, why has J’onn sat out of this? If he’s been around since MoS he would’ve had some idea of all the stuff going on from BVS and JL, and it’s not like he’s simply not caring because his human form is a military person sworn to protect people. It just would’ve been nicer if J’onn’s contribution was more than just getting Lois out of the house you know? Like if he was saving other hostages from Parademons or gifting the League intel it would have been nice. Also, ditch the glowing eyes, I know he has red eyes but the glow makes it more menacing, at first I thought Martha had been Parademon’d or had the Omega imprint.

Apokalips Technology kinda sucks For a planet that has razed several tens of thousand of planets, mind controlling their lives into Parademons, being able to open Boom Tubes and capable of space flight, the technology the League face doesn’t seem that great. Consider Steppenwolf’s 'Stronghold’; it is easily undone by breaking the ‘tower’ which the Batplane crushed through like a Kit Kat bar - after penetrating a weak outer shell - after that the Parademons have cannons that can barely even harm the Flash and stormtrooper aim. It does really feel like the only valid technology Apokalips brings to Earth is on Steppenwolf’s person, but even that suffers. Clark freezes the axe and shatters it with his breath, his armor is eye lasered off - more on those later - even though Bruce’s gauntlets were able to stave off the lasers for a bit. Consider that: Alfred built gauntlets that fared just as well as Steppenwolf’s armor...it just feels off. And it wouldn’t be as bad if the technology was praised, but Steppenwolf made note of how primitive the technology was, then lost. Even with the Mother Boxes that brought Clark back to life and were said to be able to rearrange matter however it is willed, but Steppenwolf’s fortress couldn’t make it out of a sturdier material.

Amazons take the L The Amazons are a warrior race, with superhuman power, no fear and enhanced skills in combat - but they barely ever win. Granted, the Amazons had to lose to Steppenwolf, but they were for the most part wasted as they were with Whedon. This would’ve been much easier to stomach if the Amazons were showing contributing better to the Darkseid flashback, but you don’t really see any of them fight Darkseid like the Atlantean King, the Greek Gods and the Green Lantern. You could make a call for Artemis being the Amazon pile since her arrow warns Diana but it’s not exactly enough, I don’t think it helps that the Amazons are consistently bringing swords to a gun fight. They only lasted longer than the Atlanteans in protecting the Mother Box because they kept throwing it out of Steppenwolf’s reach, only earning credit for failure and stubbornness.

Also I have to add, the Female Chanting that becomes the Amazon and Wonder Woman’s theme was heavily overused to the point where I got sick of it, needed more of Diana’s actual theme.

Too Much Slowmo! Snyder has his style, but he needs to have some restraint. Some slow-motion scenes did hurt the pacing. Slow Motion needs to fit a purpose of showing something we’d want to see that at normal speed would be hard to track, Bryan Singer knew this, but Snyder uses Slowmo as much as JJ Abrams uses lens flares.

Look at these Cars, MERCEDES CARS! Product placement happens, it needs to, but Mercedes needed to be a little less blatant with it. The cars looked ugly as balls as well.

The Over-Deifying of Clark Kent *sigh* So this is gonna probably be a me issue more than anything. I understand the crux of the plot is that Superman kept the Mother Boxes from calling Steppenwolf before, but I have to make this clear: Superman is NOT a God.

I have to make this clear because Diana is a God, daughter of Zeus, and she frequently struggled against Steppenwolf alone. While the resurrected Clark going unchained against the League led to the cool scene of Flash noticing that Clark can track him, it still left the sour realisation that in this universe, Superman is above all the other 5 league members combined, as well as being almost as fast as the Flash...who can turn back time. And that always hurts, Diana and Aquaman have at certain times of the comics slapped around Superman and have more than been enough to be his physical equal - the same is for J’onn and Shazam btw, Supes is weak to magic. It annoys me because making Superman the alpha defeats what makes Superman the leader, he’s considered one of the best heroes not because he’s the strongest but because he is humble, kind and reasonable, regardless of his genetic strength from an extinct race of aliens what makes Clark Superman is the Kansas Boy Scout attitude and what made the Mother Boxes fear him should’ve been his ability to bring people together.

His flexing on Steppenwolf did not nearly give me the catharsis others might have had, Diana’s sword and gauntlets are godly relics but a Kryptonian eye laser can fare better against Steppenwolf’s armor, Kryptonians aren’t gods.

Also they don’t really explain how Clark can resume normal life, people think he’s dead.

What was Great Okay that did look like a lot of complaints...but remember, 4 hours! There was still a lot more enjoyable moments and improvements upon the Whedon version, which we can delve into now.

Improved Character and Motivation Of the characters in the Snyder Cut there is definitely a greater improvement in fleshing out the main League Members think and feel, where they come from becomes key to how they act. This also is true for Steppenwolf, while a fully disappointing villain in Whedon, Snyder kills the ‘mommy issues’ dialogue and paints a much more desperate, outcasted and slightly pitiful antagonist, even in his defeat it’s shown just how little Darkseid cared. The inclusion of Darkseid also adds to Steppenwolf, because we see the head of the table we know that if Steppenwolf is overwhelmed there is still Darkseid, who was so tough that it took 2 of the strongest gods to wound him. While his emotional story didn’t land so well, Cyborg getting the backstory and the mental turmoil really helped with his character and made his declaration of ‘I’m not broken’ earned and emotive, through Vulko - and Dafoe’s glorious mane - we get to explore Aquaman’s reluctance to meet expectations of him a bit further. Affleck’s Batman also gets good development, attempting to assemble the League out of honoring his promise to Clark and trying to bring himself out of the darkness and anger. Barry’s dad happily rejoicing that Barry has his ‘foot in the door’ was also a sweet moment.

In the Knightmare sequence we see improvement in Leto’s Joker, a lot more like the Joker we are fond of and his underhanded taunting of Batman. Remove the orange gloves though...

R for Red, Blood Red I read somewhere in criticism of the Snyder Cut that it did not earn its R Rating, and I think that was dumb. You got blood, violence and cursing, Steppenwolf freaking bisects a dude and the rating allows Diana to behead Steppenwolf at the end. There’s believable brutality that never comes off as overcompensating or gratuitous.

The Fakeout That caught us off-guard didn’t it? A great way to use Flash’s time travelling powers by having the Unity actually be achieved. Seeing the Unity atomize Superman as well as Arthur and Diana was also a good display of the dangerous power of the Mother Boxes. For a film where we already know what’s going to happen because we’ve seen it before, the fakeout of the League failing was a great shock value moment.

Good Exposition The story had a lot of background  and backstory to cover, so it had to make sure that the exposition they used wouldn’t be dumps of preachy dialogue. This was done really well thanks to the way the story showed Cyborg’s abilities, producing simulations that Vic would then walk through such as when he explained the Mother Boxes, the Murals in the tomb forewarning Darkseid’s first invasion - which later became the flashback story - and the Mother Box visions were able to tell valuable information without overwhelming the audience with it.

Knightmare Warnings Although the final Knightmare warning was kinda lumped on the wrong place, it continued to give us teases of a different scenario, the fear of what will happen when Darkseid comes to Earth. Seeing the deaths of Aquaman and Wonder Woman paired with what seems to be the incineration of Lois and then Clark breaking bad forewarned Cyborg in a similar manner to how Bruce was warned in BVS and the epilogue. The scenes also teased their importance to the Knightmare resistance, since Cyborg and Bruce look to be a part of a bigger role which can be key to preventing such a thing. 

The Knightmare scenario did also make me want to see more of this apocalyptic scenario, as well as all the dynamics had with Bruce, Joker, Cyborg, Deathstroke and Flash (but not Mera, unless they change her actress because Fuck Amber Heard) as they try to face off with evil Superman.

Some Nice Easter Eggs As well as the awesome Martian Manhunter reveal and the Age of Heroes Green Lantern, we got cameos from Zeus, King Atla, King Arthur, Ares, Artemis, Iris West, Deathstroke, Joker, Commissioner Gordon - who looks really similar to his BTAS design, the voices of Jor-El and Johnathon Kent, Darkseid and Granny Goodness, we also got Ryan Choi - the third Atom - as Silas’ assistant and a cool nod with the policeman Lois gives coffee to every day. That guy is Mark McClure, who played Jimmy Olsen in the Reeve Superman and Dax-Ur in Smallville. There’s of course the Black Suit, which looks amazing, the code for the Mother Box is the issue which Cyborg’s origin story is introduced, one of the cops Crispus Allen would later become the Spectre and we finally see Arkham Asylum. You can also see Kilowog dead at the foot of the Hall of Justice in Cyborg’s Knightmare vision. You can also still see the open pod on the Kryptonian’s ship, implying Supergirl.

Two Fathers / Using Zimmer’s Flight Perfectly Zimmer’s ‘Flight’ is perhaps one of my favourite themes in Superhero movies, definitely the best in the DCEU next to Diana’s theme, so to hear it be used at the very mention of Superman was great. To hear it more than once was even better, especially in the Black Suit scene. With Superman about to return to the fight, hearing encouragement from his birth father and his Earth father was a wonderful touch, getting to finally embrace himself in the way Jor-El hoped and with the blessing of Johnathon. While the Amazon chanting was overused the film definitely made good on the rest of its music hitting at the right time.

Stronger Visuals While the visuals of Whedon’s version were never god awful, there was a lot of great visual moments in the Snyder Cut, Flash’s super speed scenes of course being one of the main highlights. Snyder is one for showing artistic frames and it does shine a lot here, the Comic Spread scene when attacking the Stronghold, the lineup after the battle, the view of Apokolips, the mural and even the Anti-Life Equation looked amazing. I particularly liked the ‘Melted Iron Zoom Call’ Steppenwolf did to contact Desaad and Darkseid.

Legitimate and Varying Dynamics Between Characters If every hero got along the same way then you’re not really doing much with your characters. Snyder made sure that each character had a varying level of dynamic with them, for instance: Barry is the same personality by default but he’s intimidated by Bruce, crushes on Diana, scared of Arthur and tries to pal with Vic and that affects his approach, Arthur doesn’t treat Vic the same way he treats Barry or Diana and so on. The dynamic is also sold by stuff like Bruce’s desire to atone with Clark, or Diana and Arthur’s people having been at war with one another causing distrust. There’s also the relationship between Vic and his Father which tragically only starts on the path of making amends, Alfred’s micro-managing of Diana’s tea making, Barry’s less-enthusiastic demeanor when around his dad, Bruce’s ‘hate you but need you’ dynamic with Joker and Steppenwolf’s estrangement with the rest of the New Gods are properly expressed.

Setting Up a Bunch More If the DCEU decides against picking up from the plot points of the Snyder Cut it’d be a huge mistake. As well as uniting the Justice League we’ve set up a future villain in Darkseid and Deathstroke, future members in Atom and Martian Manhunter (not to mention Shazam and the potential for Green Lantern), a potential AU film of Knightmare, and future normal developments with characters such as the potential Lois pregnancy and Barry getting a forensics job. With the Mother Boxes still on Earth as well there is potential to use them in a similar way that Infinity Stones were used in the MCU, Atom gaining abilities from the alien technology for instance such as introducing Nth Metal and then Hawkman and Hawkgirl, or just making more and the introduction of the New Gods allows other characters such as Mister Miracle, this can easily be a stepping stone for a lot more DC content to varying degrees.

Conclusion This film was very good, not the best superhero film ever but definitely a labor of love that succeeded in its expectations and bettered its previous version in nearly every way. Despite seeing the Whedon version and it having a similar plot it still had moments that surprised and excited me and the characters all felt better, whether every cut will have the same acclaim will be up for debate but the fan-charged attempt to salvage DC’s Justice League is definitely a success.

[selfship-uncharted]

The Fugitive part IV - Just for a moment

part I - part II - part III - part IV - part V - part VI - 

part VII - part VIII - part IX - part X -  part XI - part XII  - part XIII - part XIV

A/N: Thank you so much again for your support and feedback! I hope you will enjoy this chapter too! A/N2: English is not my first language. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader Warnings: a little of violence, come on, it’s the wild west Words: 2,143 Tags: @asiramhera , @missdictatorme, @zoilalove213

"I wonder, what are you writing every night in that notebook of yours?" "None of yar business, kid" "I noticed you sketch a lot." You continue ignoring his rudeness. "I would love to see them." He didn't answer. "I actually sketch a lot too. When I was back home, of course. It helped me to get away from my father." "Ya could use it to get away from yar husband. And now shut up." He added with a lack of sensitivity. You shut up, not because he ordered you but because he made you remember your fate when you will get home. "Do... Do you mind if I walk?" You asked him troubled. You didn't wait for his answer that you jumped down from the horse, although it was still walking. You fell on your hands but you didn't care. Actually now, you didn't care about anything. You were near Saint-Denis, you knew that maybe tomorrow you would be there, at your father's house with that fiancé of yours. And who knows how long before you married him. A shiver ran down your spine just thinking of the wedding night. That greasy man naked over you, touching you with those big dirty hands, kissing you with that disgusting mouth... And to say he would be your first man makes you sick. You held yourself strongly trying to erase those pictures of you and him. "Hey, what's the matter?" Arthur asked worriedly. "Could you for once call me by my name? It's always 'hey' 'you' 'kid' 'girl', I have a name you know?" You protested frustrated. Arthur was taken aback. It was the first time you talk to him like that. "Did I say anything wrong... hum... Y/N?" He paused before saying your name like it was difficult for him to say it or something. No, it wasn't him that bothered you or maybe yes, since he was the one to take you back. It was all, how helpless you were in front of your future, being unable to change it. "I'm sorry, Y/N... I didn't mean to offend you..." He tried to apologize, he made the horse go slowly by your side. "Come on, get on the horse, ki... Y/N." "It's not you, ok?" You turned at him dismissing him. "I- I just need to think..." Arthur stopped the horse giving you some distance, but he followed you close with his hand near the lasso in case he needed it. "Did ya end thinkin'?" Asked you Arthur after a while of walking behind you. "We should continue our way, or we will never reach Saint-Denis." "As a matter of fact the only one of the two of us who wants to go to Saint-Denis it's you." You stated. "So, if you want to continue your journey alone you are welcome." "Ha, ha, very funny." He answered with an attempt of being sarcastic. "Now, mount." He spurred the horse to make it walk in front of you and stopped there looking you fiercely. "Did you heard that?" You asked him stopping suddenly. Arthur shook his head but kept staring at you with suspicion. "I heard someone... Calling for help." You added. In the distance someone was yelling from pain, you followed the voice into the forest. While you ran into the forest you heard two shots that startled you. "Y/N, wait!" Arthur shouted concerned about the gunfire. Arthur followed you with the horse until you found a man with his leg trapped in a steel-jaw holding a gun. "Oh, thank goodness you are here! The wolves came from nowhere and I got trapped while escaping from them!" Said the man when he saw you. "Please, help me?" You got close to him and look at his wound, it was bad, really bad. "Step aside, kid." Ordered you, Arthur. "I mean- Y/N..." Added clearing his throat. You chuckled. "You know, it's not like you have to overuse my name now." He looked at you confused. "I'm going to fetch the horse." You announced him. "Just take care of his leg." Arthur looked at the hunter while he took the steel-jaw. "Women..." He sighed opening the trap. When he did the hunter cried in pain but also of relief. He was grateful to be released. You were trying to get the hunter's horse but every time you went near it stepped away. "Seriously, will you stay still, please??" You begged the animal. A shadow moved on your right while you were concentrated with the horse. "Y/N!" Shouted Arthur warning you but it was too late you didn't have time to react a wolf appeared from nowhere jumped at you making you fall on the ground. You tried to get it out of you but it was too strong. You felt the breath of the animal on your face. You fought him as you could. Trying to protect your face and neck with your arms. You screamed of pain when you felt its claws piercing your skin. Arthur drew his gun and shot killing it, making it fell dead on you. Other wolves appeared attacking Arthur and the hunter but Arthur shot at them fast enough before it could happen anything. You removed that dead weight of you covered in a mixture of its blood and yours. "Ya alright?" Asked you Arthur concerned checking your face. "Yes... I think..." You were trembling, that sudden attack frightened you, those animals were ferocious, you never saw one that close. "Shit..." You looked at your right arm full of blood, your hand was trembling being unable to realize how bad you were injured. "Did it bite you?" Asked Arthur worried taking your arm examining the wound. "I don't know..." your voice trembled. Arthur whistled to his horse to make it come, he took the canteen from it and poured the water on your arm cleaning the wound to see how bad it was. You closed your eyes in pain feeling the stinging. "It ain't no good, kid. You might need some stitches." He took his scarf from his neck and bandaged your arm. "I'll take you to a doctor." You nodded with a worried look. "You will survive." Arthur calmed you. He helped you to get on your feet and carried you on his horse. "Wait, here." He ordered. Arthur went to look for the hunter's horse. He slowly got near the horse shushing him, saying nice words to him until he gained its trust to take the reins. Arthur went near the hunter and helped him to get on his horse. "Is it bad?" he asked concerned about your injury. "I dunno know..." answered Arthur. "I'll take her to a doctor to check it on." "I'm so sorry, it was all my fault." he apologized. "It's okay man." Arthur patted the hunter horse. "Anyway, thank you so much for saving me. I hope it won't be nothing." The hunter turned to look at you and raise your hand to say goodbye. You smiled at him and nodded. The hunter spurred his horse and went away. Arthur came back to you, you were holding your arm in pain a cold sweat running down your forehead. "Ya good?" He asked you sitting behind you. "It hurts a little..." you whispered. "And it keeps bleeding..." The scarf that Arthur used it was soaked red from your blood. Arthur spurred his horse and went to look for the nearest town. On the way you were tilting side to side being unable to stand for yourself, your wound kept bleeding and you started to feel dizzy. "Hey! Stay with me, kid!" Arthur shook your shoulder to wake you up. "It's all right, we are nearly there..." Afraid that you might fall from the horse he brought you to him to lean on his chest and secure you with circling his arm on your waist. "It's okay..." you weakly whispered. "it's nothing..." "That's right, Y/N. Talk to me." he insisted. "Ya always 've many things to say, tell me about all of them, don't fall asleep." "I don't want to talk now... I'm sleepy... in any way... you don't even care...." "No, don't, don't fall asleep! Y/N!" You slowly opened your eyes not being able to recognize the wooden ceiling over you. You gradually sat down on a bed you weren't familiar at all. When you moved, your arm ached. It was properly bandaged this time and no trace of blood but your hand was numb when you close it the wound ached. The sleeve from your shirt was completely ripped, you guessed it was made to heal your wound easily. But where were you? The strong snore made you turned your face and see Arthur sitting on a chair beside your bed sleeping deeply with his hat covering his face. The door opened and an old man entered the room, he looked surprised o see you. "So, you are awake." He said. "I'm Dr. Thomas Dawson." You timidly nodded to him presenting yourself. He took a stool and sat in front of you. "Let me take a look on your wound." You gave him your arm and he removed the bandage revealing three scratches with stitches in your arm. The view shocked you. "It looks okay." said the doctor. "In a week you will be able to remove the stitches. I will give you an ointment to avoid having any scar. It would be a pity in a young lady those horrible scars." You bent your head being called a lady troubled you. You turned to Arthur who was still sleeping. "He has spent the night looking for you." Explained de doctor. "He was quite worried. The poor fellow. He brings you here in his arms, you were unconscious, you lost a lot of blood. Thankfully the wound wasn't infected." He got up. "You better take a rest too." And left you the both of you alone in the room. Arthur was still sleeping deeply if it was true he spent the night looking for you he might be exhausted, so you let him sleep a little more. Your eyes roamed to him to his bag where his notebook slightly stuck out from the bag. Very tempting. You could just take a look or two, if he didn't know it he wouldn't care. Not making any sound you got near him ready to grab it, but Arthur started moving waking up so you sat down on your bed pretending nothing happened. He lifted his hat from his eyes and stretched his muscles. He scrubbed his eyes and then looked at you. "Ya awake?" he asked. "How ya doin'?" "I'm fine," you answered gulping. Arthur looked at your arm, you showed it to him. "I know a fella who got ones too," he said referring to your scratches. "But it was in his face, made him uglier." He smirked. He rested in silence for a second but not having any reaction from you he got up. "Was that a joke?" you tilt your head to look at him with a naughty smile. Arthur didn't answer, he put his hat corretly aparently embarrased and dismissing you he added: "Let's go find you a shirt and let's go from this town." Once you get your new shirt you went to the stables where Arthur was waiting for you to continue your journey. Arthur motioned you to get on the horse. "Arthur..." you started. He looked at you not really interested. "Hum... thank you." you let out. Now he looked at your curious. "I... the doctor said you took care of me all night." "It ain't nothing, ki... Y/N." he said looking at his horse holding its saddle, somehow he looked embarrassed. You took his hand from the saddle to make him look at you. "I really mean it." you insisted. "Also, I... I didn't want to yell at you the other day... it wasn't fair. I was angry but it wasn't your fault." Arthur stared at you and bring the hand you were holding to your cheek. "It's okay, girl." He appeased you. "Your hands are rough." you smiled. "Sorry." He apologized but he doesn't sound like he really meant it. "Yar skin is too delicate." You chuckled. "I actually like them." You smiled at him. "Ya'r weird, girl." He complained "Maybe..." You come close to him and rested your head on his chest. "What ya doin'?" Arthur asked even more confused. "Just... For a moment... Please..." You begged him closing your eyes. Arthur sighed, somehow he felt you were not okay, that you were worried. He guessed it was because he was bringing you back home and you didn't want. But he couldn't do anything about it, it was his job to take you back, nothing more. He couldn’t get involved with you in any way.

[barbika1508]

The awakening (Demon! Yoongi x Reader/ Smut)

Part 3

Word Count: 10k

Genre: Demon! BTS, Demon Au, Prince Au, Angst, Romance, Smut

Pairing: Demon! Yoongi x Reader

Character appearance: Park Jimin, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jung Hoseok, Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jeongguk

Warnings: Cursing, Graphic violence // Oral, Sexy times

Authors Note: The spacing, and the words written in Italic means it’s a flashback/ memory.

Summary: Y/N is a mere human, who one day unsuspectingly fell into hell. And not just a random part of hell or the top level, no she fell right inside the mansion where the prince of darkness lives. Instead of casting her back to earth, or imprison her because it’s hell after all he decides to spare her life. But the prince of darkness who may be the most powerful demon to walk to earth and rule hell, still is a growing young man who has to face all types of threats. Maybe she is one too?

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 (The End)

Oh, I don’t want to be here. Ohhh noooooo I don’t want to see that, just…oh bljekk, ew no. Is he really going to…ah yep he’s cutting into the dude’s throat nope…don’t throw up Y/N, don’t…oh man the gurgling noises are even worse ewwwwwww. Lunch stay down, please don’t throw up and make an ever-bigger fool of yourself, again. Ew, nope, ah...I burp involuntarily hiding it with a fake cough, letting my head hang low for the moment, eyes closing, as I run my tongue over my teeth. There’s nothing in your mouth Y/N no need for the gag reflex to be triggered so much…oh great more sounds of chocking. Chocking on his own bl-bloo-d.

I glance to my left towards the throne, and the still unphased prince who only has raised an eyebrow. There’s Namjoon standing on his left side with an emotionless expression as well, staring at what’s happening before them.

I dare a glance forward and fuck no that’s so much blood. Fuck this. Hey do you wanna do something fun? Yes Yoongi of course. Fucking bastard I didn’t think beheading someone was a fun thing to watch and well in Taehyung’s case do.

Another louder gurgle echoes around, Tae’s deep voice asking the same question he has been ever since this whole torture thing started. But the pain evident in the noises the lesser demon is letting out are enough to flip my stomach. And I though it was under control. But nope. Without saying anything to anyone I stand up, ignoring the eyes that immediately turn and focus onto me and make my way quickly, towards the door I was lead through not even half an hour ago.

Okay to rough, I grab onto the handle to hard and stumble over my own two feet as I jump into the narrow hallway leaving the throne room behind me. Quickly shutting the door behind me, the noises are cut off finally and I feel as if I can take a deep breath in relief.

Looking left and right, nobody is in sight. I eagerly step away from the doors, hearing a scream. An unpleasant shiver runs down my spine, making me shake my head as I march over to the giant windows, that show the gardens on the west side of the palace. The skies are still stretching out in trademark darkness, with a hint of red unlike the night sky that’s dark blue. We’re in hell, after all no light like the sun can be expected to shine here. Expect the pits of hell I’ve heard that there’s light there, as its literally fire and lava. Makes sense as it’s the centre of earth. Doh. Logic. And science too. Besides demons and angels actually existing which makes the whole science thing question itself. But that’s not my mystery to discover, or to question too much.

I offer a smile as I met kind brown eyes, Hoseok grinning widely raising his hand as he waves to me from the garden having stopped for a moment, with picking flowers. Why he’s doing that in the first place beats me, but only now I realize the flowers are alive. Huh. I wave back, hiccupping still feeling a bit nauseous, which has me huffing a moment later as he turns his back to me returning to his task. The whispers are back in my earshot, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I turn around another hiccup coming up, which luckly can be masked as a jump of surprise as I see Yoongi soundlessly close the door after himself.

‘’Are you alright?’’’ he asks the emotionless expression morphing into one of concern.

‘’Peachy.’’ I reply lying through my teeth which has him immediately frowning as he makes his way towards me ‘’Just had this urge to, look at the garden. Didn’t even realize till now that the flowers are actually alive!’’ I point out hoping it’s going to distract him.

He hums, pose straightening up as he stops to stand right next to me, the whispers calming down and quieting ‘’Human’s have always had a way of depicting things to their liking.’’ He starts a smile raising over his lips, eyes darting onto me.

The side of my mouth raises as I nod ‘’We also don’t learn from our mistakes much.’’ I point out, flinching as a shout rings out from the throne room, but gets cut off abruptly. Its not hard to imagine what happened to the poor guy, but it’s my imagination that makes it 100x worse than it has to be.

I’m quick to turn around to face the garden, my heavy breathing noticeable in the quiet that’s surrounding us ‘’Would you like to go for a walk?’’ comes a question. Unlike most folks here I look at him daringly into his eyes, expression sincere. There’s nothing implying that he’s mocking me or having a laugh. Only softy features, and kind eyes.

Its still nagging me, this whole mystery that he’s enwrapped into. At least to me. I feel as if he’s an open book, but at the same time I can’t read him.

‘’Don’t you…’’ a hiccup raises up my throat as well as some acid that I mask with a cough again ‘’Ah I’m sorry. Don’t you have royal duties to be present at?’’ I go on covering my mouth with my hand as he takes a step even closer, his eyes piercing right through me.

‘’It’s Monday. Namjoon can handle the lesser demons.’’ He replies raising a hand up in offering. He has again a soft smile on, lips enticing.

I manage a faint nod, accepting his hand which yet again to my surprise is warm. The first time he was icy cold, I’ll never forget the sensation. And yet whenever he touches me now, even brushes his finger against my cheek to brush away a strand of hair, he’s warm. It gets me giddy every time he does touch me, because a sense of security settles over me. I feel as if nothing bad can happen with him, and yes that is so cliché and overused, but I feel like before my amnesia I didn’t feel safe much. My body indicates that, as my muscle memory sometimes makes me do odd things. Defensive ones most of the times, as the fight ones (fight or flight response) I’ve only experienced two times when a demon threatened the prince. I wanted to slit his throat which is gruesome and oddly specific if you think about it. And yet I know I could do it with my own hands without batting an eye.

‘’Okay let’s go.’’ I breathe in shakily and tug him forward instead. He jumps after me in surprise but honey chuckles fill out the eeriness of the palace, which is usually cold and void. That’s my feeling, he on the other hand knows where everyone is at all times thanks to his shadows.

‘’Y/N.’’ He speaks up making me realize he’s walking with a slower pace, which has me bowing my head down in embarrassment and also trying to hide away the blush as well, while I fall back into step with him.

‘’Sorry.’’ I mumble turning left into another corridor as he silently leads us, noticeably taking a step closer to walk right next to me.

‘’Are you sure you’re feeling well??? I don’t mean to be unkind, but you seem rather pale.’’ He comments taking two steps in front of me making sure I stop for sure which only startles me, as I almost walk into him being my clumsy self.

‘’Ah I’m fine. Maybe the corset of this dress is a bit to thigh.’’ A half lie. I’m comfortable enough while standing its only when I have to sit down that breathing is slightly an issue. His eyes dart down taking my figure in, curses spilling in my mind at myself. Now he’s checking me out and this isn’t even the best piece of clothing in the closet. Great.

‘’We should…’’

‘’Nahh it’s fine. All good. I wanna see the flowers. So please lead the way.’’

‘’You are a very stubborn human. Has anyone ever told you that?’’

I grin instead as he opens a door which I though was a window, but I step outside not marvelling at the secret ‘’Many times, by many people.’’ His smile makes my heart flutter, before my nose gets assaulted by the smell of flowers which are potted in pots hanging over the railings of the balcony. And hell is supposed to be a bad place. Certainly not bad with having the prince of darkness for company, who wouldn’t have taught I’d find myself here one day huh?

 I’ve always liked flowers, even if it’s another cliché thing. Or not, I mean I can still be a girl and like flowers it doesn’t make me cheesy or anything. But I always did pick flowery scents over all others, maybe that’s why when I stumbled upon Yoongi out of all the boys, he was the one that pulled me in the most. Because he smelled like flowers, having spent that same afternoon in the gardens. I’m not surprised at all once I open my eyes for them to land not on the flowers themselves but on the man, who holds my heart and soul and who has made me pull back my thorns allowing him in.

He has his head slumped forward in an awkward angle as he’s situated on the armchair which he must have dragged across the whole room, just to sit next to me. I smile at how ridiculous he is as I’m comfortably laid in the middle of his king-sized bed, where there’s plenty of room for him to have laid down properly. I’d welcome it even. Even though I’m covered with a thick duvet and fresh sheets I feel cold, a shiver running over me unpleasantly after the thought.

But as my brain wakes slowly, so does my body and the first thing I notice is something holding onto my right hand. Looking down, his fingers are loosely intertwined with my own. So that’s why he’s half slumped. I try readjusting myself but a sharp pain crosses through my whole body enlightening 3 spots specifically. Chest, hip and hand. Given that my hands are out I glance at my left one not feeling much strength in it. It’s all bandaged up and moving my fingers is a bad idea as it brings pain and wounded sounds to leave my lips which I bite into to keep silent. My eyes dart onto the prince but he only shifts, a frown settling onto his soft features.

There are dark bags under his eyes, clothes slightly wrinkled and I bet he’s going to be so sore when he wakes up from the awkward position he has put himself into. Ah Yoongi…

‘’You are terrible at acting.’’ I find myself speaking out loud lips stretching into a smile ‘’Truly awful. An then I’m considered being a bad liar.’’ The statement brings a smile to his lips the illusion completely broken, hence why he opens his eyes and looks up at me, hair falling into his face.

‘’You are a bad liar. The worst.’’ His voice seems slightly gruff as if he has been screaming to much. I only click my tongue instead and close my eyes.

‘’Meanie.’’ I mumble feeling his hand tighten around my own, and feel him shift around.

‘’Just speaking the truth.’’ He goes on sounding amused prompting me to look at him now from curiosity. He leans onto the left side of the armchair to be closer, pose straightening up, but I still think he’s going to feel sore.

‘’Why aren’t you lying here with me? There’s plenty of space!’’ I point out immediately ‘’Also what happened? Did I fall or something?’’ I ask raising my left arm, examining the bandage spotting a light patch which I think is blood on top of my hand. A memory flashes before my eyes, of me staring down at an arrow sticking from my hand, dark blood dripping around the wound. Ouch. I feel the pain ghosting over, and it’s not pleasant.

He straightens up more concern again washing over his features ‘’How much do you remember?’’ he asks voice gentler than usual.

I try and think what’s the last thing I remember but I’m blanking out, some weird flashes crossing my mind ‘’A nightmare?’’ I ask ‘’The sky was bloody red, that’s how its panted in my memory and the wind whistling…something whistling and shouting…’’ I go on my head starting to gradually hurt ‘’And then…blood?’’ I glance down at my left hand again shifting wanting to raise up but he’s quick moving in, hands careful as he presses his fingers gently onto my shoulders pushing me back down.

‘’Don’t get up, just lie still alright?’’ he goes on making sure I’m lying down properly again ‘’What else do you remember?’’ he prods on, sitting on the bed at least hand finding my own once more. It’s comforting his closeness, but also the reassurance is kind of not necessarily scaring me but it’s making me worried that he’s not telling me something important.

‘’I…’’ I start and close my eyes frowning as the pain is back. I feel as if something is pounding in my head, banging on my skill trying to pry it open, pressure building ‘’…I c…ah…’’ tears quickly gather in my eyes and spill down my cheeks, chest feeling full but empty. I feel like I’m suffocating slowly and quickly, and like my heart is so full ready to burst, and it’s to much, and there’s to much blood and pain and fear and there’s Yoongi staring at me with mischief written in his eyes, the smirk offering me reassurance but there’s also Yoongi shouting with tears spilling down his porcelain cheeks face contorted into one of pain as he shouts. And he shouts, from the agony and fear.

‘’Hey, hey, hey, hey…Y/N…’’ I can hear him through the haze as I stare back into his beautiful brown eyes, the grey having bleed back to reveal his own dark orbs that always whenever I get the chance to see them I feel like I see into a part of his soul. I feel closer to him ‘’Stop please jagiya, it’s alright don’t think about anything alright focus on me okay, focus on me my voice and my heart beat can you do that…’’ he moves closer propping my upper body up carefully. He tugs my hand making my fingers spread palm pressed firmly against something flat.

There just so much pain he feels, the way his shadows grow around us. They’re basically swallowing the world in they’re wake. Nobody is safe. Whoever hurt him will pay the price. Whoever hurt him I will personally hunt down and rip them limb from limb whoever…

I can feel something thump against my palm ‘’Y/N.’’ he whispers voice sounding broken which has me opening my eyes to look up at him surprised with seeing his eyes filled with tears.

And I look up at him in confusion all the pain and overwhelming emotions and feelings wash away, getting replaced by my own worry towards him ‘’Hey.’’ I whisper ‘’Why are you…’’ but he’s suddenly leaning down, soft lips pressing against my own which renders me stiff at the sudden movement. And its not the first time we’ve kissed it’s just the action that is just surprising. I quickly relax in his hold and return the brush of the lips, letting him slowly and gently lead it, as he prompts himself onto his elbows still holding onto my right hand, bending it near my head not breaking the kiss even once while he manoeuvres us so I’m lying down again and he’s holding himself up keeping his weight off me completely.

This feels right. It feels familiar and feels new, exciting, makes my heart flutter and butterflies raise in my stomach. Even though I know this time it’s different. Despite the tingling in my left hand I raise it up to run my fingers through his jet-black locks which I’ve had only once the pleasure of touching for a brief moment. His hair is as velvety and soft as I’d imagine it would be so I gladly burry my fingers in, sighing contently into the kiss air running thin but who cares. I’m kissing the love of my life.

He always did complain about my stubbornness the most. It has me grinning widely as he sighs clearly annoyed at me breaking the kiss. I chuckle silently while he settles on resting his forehead against my own instead ‘’I win.’’ I whisper gleefully opening my eyes to look at him. Despite the slightly awkward angle, I can see he’s not amused as he’d usual be. He’s keeping his eyes closed not moving away an inch…something is wrong ‘’Hey.’’ I whisper tightening my fingers around his ‘’Yoongi-yah.’’ I try again but it doesn’t get a reaction I’d wish to see. His eyes open, and there are still unshed tears threatening to spill ‘’What’s wrong my love?’’ I continue whispering while he leans a tiny bit back, but keeps himself close, eyes taking me in as if he’s engraving my face into his mind.

‘’I almost lost you.’’ He whispers in return the statement surprising me but I try not letting it show as I bring my hand to the front to cup his cheek, trace it with my thumb gently.

‘’Not possible. I’m too stubborn, aren’t I?’’ I try teasing him but his lower lip only tightens ‘’Hey…’’ I coo again ‘’Please don’t dwell on what might have happened. I’m, here aren’t I? And so are you.’’

But he growls instead, shadows flickering across the room ‘’You’ve been bedridden for a week, almost lost your hand, you’ve lost so much blood I barely got you to wake up, it’s not fine at all. Nothing is fine!!! Its all my fault and my fault alone!!! I should have never let you stay in the f…’’ he stops himself lifting himself up into a sitting position. Its not hard to figure out what the last words mean.

‘’Sorry for being a pest then. It’s not like I wanted to end up in hell…’’

‘’Ah no Y/N…’’

‘’It’s not like I wanted to lose all my memories and who I really am, and just trust demons not even humans with my life and everything. Not like I wished for this to happen, any of this…’’ I start pushing myself up ignoring how my wounds ignite tenfold.

‘’Don’t you dare move, you’re going to open your wounds…’’ he tries to reach out for me but I slap his hand away and continue pushing myself away from him.

‘’It’s not like I wanted to fall in love with you, not like I was ready to give someone let alone the prince of the underworld and darkness my heart, and let myself be bare and vulnerable after what feels like forever just to be his regret, I’m sorry for…’’ he’s quick to pin me back down onto the bed lips crashing against my own. And I do try and fight it, I really do but the pain gets too much, I feel the wounds flaring but also the tears that unwillingly shed and break my resolve.

‘’N-no…get off m-me…’’ I try and break the kiss but he’s not letting me, pinning my arms down and straddling me properly. I can feel shadows simmering around us, feel their touches ghosting over me. And it should be weird, should at least freak me out, should make me scared but I’m not.

Its reassuring that’s what it is. So as if I’m being eased into it, I start to let go...my will shifting...so I let him devour my mouth, kiss turning more passionate and demanding, hands loosening their hold into gentle caresses as he gets closer his body heat warming me up.

‘’You have no idea, how much you mean to me.’’ breaking the kiss he breathes out hands cupping my face eyes honest as well as his expression as he looks at me ‘’No idea how much my heart longs to see your face every second of the day, to see you smile and hear you laugh. See you blush because of something I did, or get you fumbling adorably.’’ And then the tears are spilling down his cheeks landing over my own startling me ‘’I was so scared.’’ His voice goes into a whisper ‘’There is no me anymore. You’re me. You’re my reason for anything and everything.’’

I just stare up at him in disbelief pain flourishing into one of love for him, both emotions coexisting in my heart hurting and soothing me ‘’Seeing you so hurt, and the way you just accepted your destiny…’’ he takes in a sharp breath straightening up a bit expression getting serious ‘’You’re never leaving me! Do you understand that?!’’ the shadows raise up over the walls around the room swallowing the light from the lamps mounted on the walls. Not a trickle of fear appears in me.

‘’I do.’’ I reply which has his nodding firmly.

‘’Never ever!’’ he goes on firmly with a convincing and possessive tone ‘’Because I can’t…I c-can’t without you…’’ his voice breaks and this time around I reach for his hands over my cheeks, and lean up ignoring how every cell in my body protests crippling pain blooming in my chest and hip but it doesn’t matter. I reach up to kiss him, wanting to portray some emotions this way because not everything can be put into words. He’s quick to return it tongue quick to demand entrance. Its filthy and messy but neither of us care.

But the pain does get unbearable, I can only endure so much and the white spots dancing behind my closed eyelids are a good warning, to let go.

Whining into the kiss he’s quick to back away hands wrapping around me ‘’Lie down.’’ He whispers and this time I don’t protest and do as he tells me, watching as he follows right after face hovering inches from my own, eyes still not leaving me ‘’How much in pain are you?’’ he asks instead of asking if I’m in pain at all. It’s just a testament how much he does know me after all.

‘’Bearable. The judges say I’ll live.’’ I reply with a smile but he shakes his head immediately.

‘’Don’t joke about something like that.’’ he almost snarls ducking down pressing a kiss to my cheek and then just continues to trace kisses, hand cupping the other side of my face moving it to his liking.

‘’Touchy.’’ I whisper earning myself a growl in return that has me chuckling. My front brushes with his own, as he has gotten himself comfortable, still hovering over me not yet touching me like I’d like too, meaning he’s holding himself back for some reason ‘’Yoongi-yah…’’ I breathe out wanting to get his attention but he seems engrossed with tracing kisses down my neck, lips ghosting over my ear the sensation making me shudder. Realization crawls upon me, reality making itself present suddenly. It’s happening.

He’s still keeping his distance somewhat, weight shifted of me which still means he is holding himself back. My hands trail up again tugging onto his hair gently getting his attention ‘’Please…’’ I mutter pleadingly his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. I know where his emotions are going to lead him from confusion into panic. So, I cup his face this time, bringing his head closer. His hands that were over my shoulders brace onto the bed, as he complies into my demand and returns my kiss easily.

Getting my right hand free, I urge him by pushing at his shoulder and lift my left leg up with strain but with a clear intent ‘’No, we can’t…’’ he breaks the kiss ready to protest. I’m faster though, sealing our lips back together again.

I start sliding my hands down over the silky shirt he’s wearing, fingers finding the top of the black pants he has on. His skin is exposed as the shirt has ridded up. To my disapointement he’s quicker, hand shothing down catching my wrists and stopping me just as two fingers slide under, to trace against his underwear ‘’Y/N-ah.’’ He speaks in warning glaring at me with darker eyes than usual. I offer a smile in return pecking his lips before he’s moving away ‘’Stop. I know what game you’re playing at and it won’t work.’’

He goes on completely serious while I slump back onto the bed pouting, trying to look adorable as much as I can as I blink even repeatedly ‘’You don’t want me?’’

I shouldn’t be so aroused, but I am at the snarl that leaves from his throat his shadows flaring around the room, making the lights flicker. Only now I notice how they have ‘eaten up’ our surroundings.

‘’You don’t understand how much I want you.’’ My eyes quickly flicker back to meet his own, that are changing into the two silver orbs who would make any mortal and some immortals instantly look away and repent for their sins on spot. But it does things to me. It has the opposite effects. My skin practically tingles, electricity buzzing in the air we breathe. I feel as any kind of move can set spark off which means it will end up blazing into an unstoppable fire. My breath hitches in my throat upon his statement ‘’I want to devour you whole…’’ I pick up on how his shadows which start to whisper voices picking up on a more melodic tone ‘’I want to devour your soul and body, I want to mark you up so every creature in this or other realms will see that you’re mine! You belong to me.’’ By the end of the speech he’s growling, silver irises staring at me with a cold hard gaze but I can see past it, I can see the lust, the want, the need and love dare I say it hidden behind the masked layers he has built in his life time. He had to, to survive. As well as I. But he’s bare before me and that is an enormous difference.

He climbs over my legs and rests in between them the duvet being moved along to reveal my left leg. He’s careful with manoeuvring it to the side and around his hip. Something rustles on the sheet making me panic for a moment, because his hand is touching my thigh the other placed near my head ‘’Shhhh…’’ he gently shushes me my breathing becoming harder at the scare. I glance down seeing a shadow sprouting from him, and how it bends at odd angles that don’t follow the lighting of the lamps. It dips down across the white sheets, over the creases gliding up till my nightdress that has raised upon my leg hanging as it is in the air. I stare how the shadow still whispering softly, raises over the flimsy material of the blue nightgown I’ve been dressed in.

Glancing silently up at Yoongi he has this small smile on his face, staring down at what the shadow is doing. I can see and sense the playful mood he has fallen in to. I gasp upon the brush and feather touch over the wound on my hip the slight pressure lessening ‘’Ah ‘m sorry…’’ he breathes out leaning in, to brush his lips against my own, while I furrow my brow trying to get my breathing under control as it’s still laboured. There’s this anticipation clinging onto me which I can’t figure out exactly why there’s a hint of fear in the first place.

An involuntary whine leaves from between my lips when the touch returns, the wound in pulses spreading the pain, my brain registering it as danger. But his kisses that deepen and hard teeth nipping at my lower lip at some point distracts me completely from feeling how the shadows slither under my back to touch upon the wound on my chest. It does bring a blush to flare up over my cheeks, as the shadows like water seem to ripple around across my bare skin under the flimsy dress which is more of a bother as the shadows room over my skin, earning shivers to shake me when brushing certain points.

With the lack of oxygen, he pulls away licking over my lower lip teasingly which has me trace my own lip after he moves away. The smirk that he sports, makes me feel weak, and quiver at the way he’s looking at me. As if he’s the predator and I am the pray; he’s going to savour this, and absolutely devour me.

‘’So gorgeous…’’ he breathes out sitting up on his knees, spreading his own under me forcing both of my thighs to rest against his, knees bent around him. His right hand is still supporting my left side though, and remarkably the pain is gone. I don’t feel the strain over my hip and chest, only on my left arm where it’s still present ‘’Let’s get this off, I want to see you…’’ he goes on not even waiting for a reply as his long fingers grab the end of the dress. I simply stare how effortless he just splits the clothing in two right down the middle, revealing me all at once. I stare at him with my lips parted, as he makes quick work off tugging the material from under me, all the while his still silvery eyes are darting around over my skin and curves clearly taking me in. The bandages don’t cover much of me up but they do make me feel insecure upon my scarred skin. I have this strong feeling through creeping up on me that he isn’t going to be too bothered by it.

The ghosting touch gets me to tare my eyes away from him regrettably, seeing the shadow that’s not entirely black as it trails over from the top of my shoulder and slithers downwards, over my bicep, elbow, the inside of my forearm, and then pries my fingers gently to open up, while it settles there covering my palm completely but not like the bandage does. Its soothing as if its massaging and chasing the pain away, or maybe taking it from m…

My eyes widen upon the realization, settling onto the prince again who has gone to work over the front buttons of his shirt. My mouth falls closed tongue darting out to lick over my dry lips as he’s staring at me with hooded eyes that are shouting ‘Want’ while the silky material falls open finally, his hands, his long fingers making work of tugging it off. I whine when he starts stalling. The bastard even chuckles and tsks ‘’Patience Y/N-ah, haven’t you learned anything from being with me all this time? Good things come to those who wait.’’

I simply groan and shamelessly run my eyes over his pecks, how smooth his porcelain skin is. There’s not a single mark on him, arms strong and defined, veiny hands and fingers…I already know the capability of them how he can so effortlessly squeez a life out of a demon, but that is nothing compared to what he’s going to show me right now, how capable he really is in this field. His stomach is flat, and his torso lean. He is stronger than he looks. My eyes dart down to his pants, the garment offensive in all the ways.

‘’So I take that you are not a blushing virgin, then are you?’’ he asks out of the blue.

‘’Disappointed??’’ I dare back feeling a tiny bit insecure at his statement. Men do have their weird standards, not much can surprise me in regards of them. Yet I’m left pleasantly surprised upon the smirk that appears on his wine-red lips.

‘’You could never disappoint me Y/N-ah.’’ He replies getting serious once more and lowers himself down slowlyyy still teasing without actually doing anything which is getting torturous on its own. I just want to feel him, and his touches, feel his warmth ‘’Just no dying or leaving.’’ He lowers down finally making me keep in the intake of breath as he presses himself against my lower half where I can feel him properly the panties I got on not doing much to hide anything away ‘’Promise to stay with me.’’ he turns serious hands like I’ve mentioned capable of so many things, cup my face so gently as if I’m made out of glass ready to shatter even at a wrong breath ‘’Promise me that you will never leave me. That you will be mine forever.’’

‘’Forever is a long time.’’ I reply back getting serious too as he gets closer leaning his forehead against my own, thumbs caressing my cheeks.

‘’Not enough amor mea.’’ He whispers lips gently pressing against my forehead.

‘’A millennium?’’ I try which has him shaking his head, lips pressing a kiss between my eyebrows ‘’2 millenniums?’’ I go on with a smirk getting another kiss on my nose this time, and a curl of his lips as well eyes meeting my own so we simply can stare at one another.

‘’Forever.’’ He says simply and stares at me waiting for my answer.

‘’The whole eternity.’’

Instead of a reply, I watch lovestruck how his eyes seem to shine even brighter and a glow emits from him in this strange sense. The shadows settle into a melodic song that’s just all him. I can hear him in the song, they’re muttering playing, singing. And I’m just so enamoured, so entirely bewitched, and entranced with him I…I just…wow.

He leans in sealing the deal with a gentle press of his lips against my own, this kiss alone meaning so much more than all the kisses we exchanged up until now. It breathes life into me, makes my body enlighten, and my soul to sing in return along his melody. My eyes fall closed, sensations overwhelming me as he kisses down my neck, teeth nipping occasionally over my skin. He’s fulfilling his promise, leaving blooming marks in his wake.

So I just let him, even lift and bend my arms above my head to his liking as he maps my body with his tongue, which dips over my collarbone making my fingers wiggle for a moment and smile as I reopen my eyes again only to flush harder as just in the right time, he takes my left nipple in his mouth sucking gently, while his tongue flickers over it making me genuinely gaps in surprise how pleasant it feels.

His eyes seem to bore into me making my head spin. Letting go he licks at the hardened bud as I stare at him like an idiot, having grabbed and now am clinging onto the pillow above me, knuckles brushing against the wood of the headboard, meanwhile my panties are gradually becoming soaked. As his fingers move to play with my left nipple he moves with his mouth onto the right eagerly sucking at it, my body feeling as if someone set a bomb but just lit off the string that leads towards it.

‘’Y-Y-Yoon-ahhh!’’ I hiss as he lets go and starts blowing air gently, the sudden contrast shocking making me clench up. He smirks at my reaction leaning up to only brush his lips against my own.

‘’Tell me.’’ he whispers pressing another solid kiss onto my cheek ‘’What do you want?’’ he whispers directly into my ear, his left hand having found its way from my stomach, down to the panties skipping over the top of them, to dive down middle finger brushing over my lower lips. The grumble emitting from his chest has me blushing from embarrassment because I have a strong feeling that his finger is already wet ‘’C’mon jagiya don’t tell me you’re getting shy on me now?’’

I only huff in response as he leans backwards fingers now properly running up and down my clothed cunt, only briefly brushing over my clit but it’s not nearly enough for anything, except to make me stiffen up for a split second ‘’I’m not.’’ I mumble grinding my teeth together at the fleeting touches. He’s being mean.

‘’Alright then.’’ he chuckles sounding completely delighted ‘’Then tell me what you want.’’

I stare still entranced at the way his hand moves, fingers peeking over the tip of my cunt now and then as he moves it steadily, touch light and unchanging the torturous punishment which I don’t know how and what I did to deserve it dragging out. The slap is sudden making me jump and let out a yelp, the aftermath pleasant once it registers in my brain. I stare at him in disbelief whilst staring dumbfounded at his smile…proper devilish smile that has me fuming, his fingers reaching under the panties over my hips past the bandage. With a simple motion the panties rip, and the shadows actually swallow them leaving me bare. I gape like a fish as he lets go my left leg gently, because the shadows keep it propped up comfortably. He starts to crawl down, pressing fleeting kisses over my chest, my ribs, stomach as he lowers himself down my body.

‘’Fuck you smell good.’’ he curses, making me feel agitated in anticipation, as I feel his fingers spread my lips open ‘’My, my, my.’’ The smirk doesn’t help me to settle down, his eyes even less once I lift my own to meet his which are trained onto my own. I feel my eyes sharpen though which should be concerning but I can’t get bothered seeing him clearer than ever, as his tongue darts out trailing from my hole with fucking precision and all the way up over my clit trailing over the spots that have my fingers and toes curl instantly, body clenching and unclenching as he repeats the motion over and over, but by the 5th lick the jumpiness starts to subdue settling into a pleasant buzz that’s building up.

‘’Fuc-c-k-k-…Yoon-n-g-giii…’’ I manage to get out, chest deflating the shout getting cut off because of it as he lunges at the right moment lips attaching themselves around my clit. It has been throbbing and was left neglected for to long so now I’m almost hyper sensitive and aware of everything he does. But the intense suction is gone, brief enough to allow me to intake some air just enough so I can let out an almost ear-piercing scream, once his tongue starts flickering over it.

‘’FuAHHHHHH!!!’’ I grab at his hair once he gets rougher my hips starting to rock on they’re own. The shadows move and accommodate my leg, just as I feel something prod at my entrance ‘’Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes…’’ I chant feeling cold sweat trickling down from my forehead. His nose scrunches up but he continues moving his tongue as much as he can, but successfully does push one long finger into me without any restraint or resistance. I sigh in relief, when he moves away pulling his finger out but then quickly pushes it back in.

‘’So sweet, jagiya you are so delicious.’’ My jaw clenches the words having an affect on me but I need more and I need it now.

‘’P-Please just…please-e-e…’’ I plead giving him a proper look of desperation. The bastard that he is chuckles nudging another finger in besides the one, stretching me wider open without any burn of uncomfortableness.

‘’Whatever my princess wants.’’ At the nickname I raise my head again to stare at him, seeing the wink before he dives in changing between sucking onto my clit and licking around it teasing me. Thankfully he does give me mercy and at least thrusts his fingers in and out with an unrelenting rhythm.

The whines starts out of the blue, and chant on vocally forming his name, and other things meanwhile, the pleasure he is giving me is simply blinding making my body act on is own rather than me having much control over it. It’s why at one point he flattens his tongue and lets me grind myself against him with no complaint coming from how hard I’m gripping his hair, or how hard I’m moving my hips. I continue to chase my high, getting there rapidly because of the disarming stare. And at the change of his pace quickening up his fingers, he goes to curl them upwards and then with a loud moan that turns into a shout I’m clamping onto him, body tensing in the weird half raised position as the floodgate of absolute bliss gets released.

His hand’s help to lower me down, while my mind is completely overwhelmed and in another dimention is feels like. That state of euphoria washes over me, once I feel kisses getting pressed up over my face again. I automatically smile to his touches, his warmth welcomed as the explosion has now washed into tingles still rippling through me slowly dying down.

When I find the strength, I open my eyes to look up him feeling as if he’s a dream. I sure hope he’s not. His lips are turned up into a fond smile eyes having dulled down into faint silver, despite the shadows which are still very much so present darkening up the room but not enough so that I don’t see him. But I see so much more though…

‘’I love you.’’ I breathe out not even thinking. It feels right.

At first, I get a reward winning smile, the kiss gentle and firm ‘’I love you too.’’ He replies confidently, with a hint of relief. The kiss continues on as we have been deprived of too many kisses in the past specially the last days with the upcoming war and army ready to kill us off. There just wasn’t any time to sneak around for even pecks.

I get quickly aware of an issue, guilt gripping me as I get aware of my selfishness. Even if he’s not saying anything and is being considerate and all like he’s always been it irks me. So, while half focusing on the kiss I attempt to thrust my hips but end up only lulling us. It’s enough to get him to break away with a soft gasp, so I take the chance to let my tongue dart over his plushy lower lip. Grabbing onto his ass I use that to try and move my hips and grind into him from this awkward position as much as I can.

‘’Ah jagiya…’’ he breathes out as I continue moving my hips getting more reactions from him. I want to properly ride him want to show him how much I want and need him, but I think my wounds won’t let me go that far. And neither will he most likely so I settle on keeping quiet and moving as much as I can, starting to feel properly the outline of his dick, the rough fabric of his pants spreading my lower lips. And its so close I’m so close to being able to rub my clit against them but then he’s the one thrusting forward pinning my ass completely down to the bed a huff ghosting over my face. He still smells like mint and flowers ‘’Can you feel…how hard you make me…’’ he emphasizes his words with harsh thrusts that are forcing me to move upwards over the bed, hands shooting up to push myself away from bumping my head into the headboard.

I grin widely feeling pleased and proud of myself for having such an effect on him ‘’It fucking hurts...’’ he growls clearly frustrated ‘’…and its all because of you, only you…’’

I hiss when he nips at my neck harshly on the other side ‘’I’m gonna mark you up, because this is mine to colour into pretty purples and red marks.’’ He proves his point by biting harder making me cry out protest dying in my throat as he starts grinding and rubbing me the right way rendering me breathless again ‘’Mine.’’ He grumbles coming to a stop by thrusting harder than necessary but enough to have me look at him.

‘’You sure you want this?’’ he goes on going completely serious, everything besides his eyes and shadows going void of emotion. Because only I can hear and feel his shadows properly. I can hear what his soul is singing, because being the devil or not, prince of darkness and all that he does have a soul. Even if its tainted it matches my own broken one. His shadows sing what he really feels, from the debts of within him, song fulfilling going intertwined with mine.

I don’t have to answer his ridiculous question. I push myself up brining him into a demanding kiss, hands falling down to the top of his pants that I start pulling. And under my fingers they start to tare the sound filling up the room besides our kissing. He’s quick to help once I fall onto the bed again, wounds aching, his shadows squirming which are still dancing over my skin.

He makes quick work of tearing and pulling his pants off, as well as underwear to which I have to just stare and watch how his cock springs up bobbing against his stomach. Its rosy pink, the tip looking angry. There’s something already wet on it and for a second it makes me wonder if I ruined his pants with how wet I still am, but in the next moment it clicks that it’s precum, which gets confirmed as the pearly white substance leaks out. Before I can do anything else my vision gets obscured as he dives back in kissing and demanding my attention.

He’s smiling into the kiss which has me breaking into giggles for some reason even when I feel him brush against my folds. He doesn’t seem hurried.

‘’What’s so funny?’’ he asks moving his hips the tiniest bit leaning in to playfully bite my chin not pulling on it, soothing it with tiny kisses.

‘’Nothing.’’ I reply back ‘’You were the one smiling.’’ I point out.

‘’I was smiling because you make me happy.’’ He replies back without hesitation which causes me to look at him surprised the confession kind of out of the blue ‘’So insanely happy.’’ I gasp as I feel the head of his cock now prod at my entrance. I glance down as he leans closer head resting against my own. I stare as he holds onto his cock, sliding it up and down teasingly again spreading my wetness onto himself. My resolve is quick to break as I pant, once he prods again, so I let out a growl of my own. It doesn’t compare to his, but it gets his attention chuckles filling the room.

‘’You want me that bad??’’

‘’Mine!’’ I reply possessively seeing his unmarked skin, grabbing him around his torso and tug him downwards. He goes along huffing in surprise but doesn’t comment as I latch my lips onto his neck, biting hard into his shoulder. He hisses because of it so I let go to press kisses over the mark before continuing my way upwards leaving marks of my own behind ‘’As much as you think I’m yours, which I am…’’ the growl dies down quickly ‘’You’re also mine. And nobody can touch you, approach you, or dare to even look at anymore. You belong to me and me alone.’’ I grab gently under his chin brining his face closer, the tip of his cock sinking into me ‘’Body, and soul.’’ I feel something shift, a flood of emotions and memories fill up my mind. But I push those away, aware of my anaesthesia breaking, but it’s not important. He’s the only important thing right now.

His silvery eyes meet my own which have probably bleed into crimson red colour. I can feel my power as it is tingling on my fingertips his shadows are an indicator that they have awakened as they crowd closer around us, ghosting over his skin more noticeably.

With a growl he leans in forcing my head to lie back against the pillow. His body moves without words, as he sinks into me quickly meting no resistance. But the intrusion does make me gasp at the sensation, of being so full, and feeling like we are one. It ignites a fire within me that is instant to spread out of control almost.

I feel it on my fingertips, see how it appears right before my eyes, my hands settled over his shoulders. He spares it a glance, shadows shimmering in distress visibly for a moment until they settle into calmnmess his gaze landing onto me once more with a calculating look settling in his eyes for a moment.

‘’Mine.’’ He simply says and then pulls out, and thrust back. The fire I feel spreads down my forearms more ablaze than ever. Yoongi looks and remains completrly unphased starting up a slow but firm rhythm, pushing me upwards with each thrust that is getting harder but so pleasurable. Letting go of him I reach up to hold myself down, hands pressed flat against the wood.

The shadow that was wrapped around my wounded arm this whole-time trails back, leaving my hand alone as well as the pain that remains at bay. A particularly hard thrust has me moaning, twisting my head back, exposing my neck to him which he dives in eagerly, lips and teeth tracing all over. Glancing at my hands that are braced against the wooden headboard, my left one feels fine. It feels as it no damage was ever caused. Looking down again I raise my eyebrows ready to plead again for him to go faster. He stops moving completely but simply to readjusts himself into a sitting position onto his knees. He pulls my legs along settling them over his shoulders.

My hip doesn’t hurt anymore it’s why his shadow pulls way while the fire trickles down, over my chest. It is acting like a liquid without an actual blazing flame. The liquid does variate from blue to green colours. Its like molten lava but much more dangerous.

A high pitch moan leaves my throat as the angle shifts, and the way he’s thrusting now has me seeing sparks, going off in the air around us as I feel how his cock drags across my walls properly, giving me everything I need. I force my eyes to remain open with great difficulty as my fingers and toes are already curling again. His eyes seem to shine brighter, shadows swallowing almost every source of light in the room, besides the fire that’s burning on my skin.

I stare mesmerized at how sinful Yoongi looks. Bruised lips still coloured beautifully into a wine-red colour, marks stretching over his porcelain skin. He won’t be able to hide them, as I’ve managed to get one right under his ear. It fills me with a sense of pride and possessiveness knowing that everyone will know who he belongs to. He’s covered in sweat just like I am, from this “workout” but the way his skin glistens whenever he moves and the flames flicker…I wanna taste him all the more. He is breathing through parted lips, expression contorted into one of concentration, his hold on my legs to keep me still frim, not moving me an inch away from himself. And then his eyes. It’s as if I call him they flicker up to meet my own, another wave of arousal, or electricity and I don’t even fucking know I can’t describe what it exactly is washes over me violently, making me call out his name making me want to absolutely devour him whole. It’s not a predator and prey situation anymore. I’m on his level, we are completely equals if not the same. Shaking I let go of the pillows having torn them apart, to reach out for him. 3 thrusts after he’s shifting my legs spreading them further apart, but he places his hand over my stomach, the thrusts now shallow as he looks down eyebrows furrowed.

I follow his gaze to my chest; liquid fire having settled mostly in the wounds. The bandages surprisingly haven’t fallen off, until now as he reaches for them and tears them off revealing the scarred tissue behind. I’m surprised at how much I healed, lifting my left arm in front of my face I tug the bandage off, and watch as the fire is soothing the wound, closing it and regenerating the cells to heal up properly. But this isn’t my doing... not entirely. My hand falls away as I stare at him, while he leans closer again both arms landing just above my shoulders to keep me in place. He’s still burying himself deep inside me and leans in to steal away despite the whole situation sweet, honeyed kisses.

And as he bends down properly, he starts moving the kiss quickly getting broken as now he’s reaching deeper, not only rubbing my walls amazingly but just…he’s perfect…

‘’That’s it…’’ he breathes out tone gravely only furthering my arousal ‘’…moan for me amor mea, let me hear your beautiful voice, come on…’’ he encourages starting to piston properly fucking me without abandon, which does evoke many moans to leave my throat as I cling onto him, the fire still not hurting him, as he leans lower to get closer to me. He’s panting in my ear.

‘’Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongii…’’ I chant my voice getting louder and louder fingers digging into his shoulders. He’s going to hate me for this I’ve probably ruined his back for good. But he presses a kiss to my cheek brief as he’s still moving, and groaning along.

‘’That’s it…’’ he breathes out sounding pleased and gone definitely gone, which has me seeing white around the edges, my eyes falling shut ‘’Let everyone know who do you belong to.’’ He ends up growling biting onto the corner of my jaw making me whine, his thrust becoming brutal but I don’t need anything more. I’ve been on the edge since he leaned closer, clenching and unclenching.

I start shouting out his name, ending up panting wanting to breathe air in which isn’t there ‘’Mine!’’ he goes on sounding possessive ‘’Only mine! Say it!’’ a hand wraps around my throat suddenly cutting of the already non-existent air current into my lungs.

‘’Ah…yours…only yours…’’ I manage to get out eyes opening at a jerk, just to meet his silvery ones that for a moment look like crimson, but maybe that’s the reflection of my own.

‘’Good girl.’’ He breathes ‘’Now cum for me.’’ and with that and the calmness he’s radiating, he lets go of my neck and the flood gates have been opened. With the only remaining cell in my brain that does remain unchanged I get aware that the fire has gone out of control.

‘’Y/N-ah…’’ I pick up on a breathless moan through the haze knowing he’s perfectly alright and well, despite the fire that’s ragging on for the first time not inside me but all around me destroying everything in its path, eating it up fuelling itself. I can’t get myself to be even bothered by it, seeing as Yoongi isn’t.

I smile at the way he breathes, practically lying on top of me enjoying his own post orgasmic bliss. He’s not even heavy, and the way he’s lying down doesn’t put pressure anywhere that would make me feel even in the slightest uncomfortable. Getting back the feeling into my body, and hands I raise them up, eagerly letting my fingers web in between his silky only slightly damp locks. I stare up at the ceiling, the lights returning enough so I can see without straining my eyes. Shadows are cast across the ceiling making me smile, once they form into solid forms as if someone is putting on a puppet show for me. I can easily recognize Yoongi and myself, and a ridiculous story playing out which ends with me killing a cartoon looking dragon and then grabbing him and lifting him into my arms bridal style. I chuckle breaking the comfortable silence and glance away, at how the shadows have crawled up over his back, but are just now retreating his back once left unmarked despite my rough touches earlier. But besides the shadows that are let out to do as they please, because they are Yoongi’s extensions, my flame meanwhile starts dying down.

And not dying not literally because that means I’d be dead, but the spark has run its course, the pent-up emotions hidden in memories as well, got let out earlier and has now left peace and serenity in its place inside me. I summon up the fire to pull back and raise my right arm and away, holding the flame on my palm. Yoongi mumbles something under his breath but only moves his head and, leans lower dick spent falling from me, but that’s an issue for later to deal with. He rests his head conveniently above my breast, eyes fixated onto my hand.

Smiling I stare at the dancing pair modeled out of the fire, who start dancing tango. It is the dance of passion is it not? All the while the liquid still variating from lighter to darker blues and hints of green retracts into the flame. When it’s all gathered, and the fire dancers have burnt out the fuel they end the dance with a bow and kiss, disappearing into thin air, a brief puff of smoke raising into the air after them, the shadows seemingly swallowing them.

‘’...didn’t kno you could…do that.’’ The prince obviously tired now mumbles almost unintelligible. So, I turn my head down, to glance at his nose. He hasn’t moved still

‘’Well now you do.’’ I reply back sounding way more composed than he is. He lifts his head up tried eyes meeting my own, now having turned back to normal as he blinks slowly at me, looking completely sated and content from the way he’s still very much so boneless in my arms.

‘’There’s a lot of thing I don’t know.’ he grumbles lips forming a pout eyes looking up at me, with this sad look. And it fucking stops my heart from how fucking adorable he is! He reminds me of a kitty to be honest.

I offer a smile in return and lean down to press a kiss to his forehead ‘’We do have forever.’’ My words quickly bring a smile to his lips ‘’So there’s plenty of time for anything and everything that your heart wishes for.’’

‘’Anything and everything huh?’’ he repeats in a wonderous tone.

‘’Uh huh.’’ I hum in return sighing happily and overjoyed, to have him finally rest in my arms like this with no more secrecy, no more tricks, no more wondering and questioning his or my own actions, and finally knowing and remembering. Suddenly he lifts his head and stares at me, but then raises onto his elbows, left arm outstretched to the left, making me glance at it as he looks like he’s reaching for something ‘’What?’’ I ask gently smirking while he impatiently then snaps his fingers, the shadows in the room shifting as if a wave of water crashed into them. The lights do go out, leaving us in complete darkness for only a moment. But once it’s back I’m left staring confused at the joyous expression he has on, eyes practically sparkling. But what startles me and stops time is the thing he’s holding between his thumb and pointing finger between our faces.

It’s a silver band ‘’Be my queen.’’ Comes the statement and without even answering him he’s grabbing for my left hand, the shadows supporting him so he’s effortlessly keeping weight off me, while he preoccupies himself with sliding the ring onto my ring finger ‘’You said anything and everything. This is it. Be my queen, rule with me by my side till the end of time.’’

The small silver band fits perfectly. He lets go of my hand, while my eyes scan the piece of jewellery that holds suddenly the weight of the world over me. It’s a simple design, silver with waves drawn over around it, and small diamonds scattered in pattern around it.

‘’Maybe?’’

‘’Maybe!?!??!??!’’ pause ‘’What do you mean maybe?!’’

‘’Kidding! Yes.’’

‘’What?’’

‘’Yes. My answer is yes.’’

Copyright 2018© by barbika1508. All rights reserved.

[msclaritea]

The Consequences of Jean Paul and Food For Thought, an excerpt from Aurora's Feather: The Queer Decoding of The Sign of Four.

"Some things should not be hidden behind glass. They were made to be touched."

    “How small we feel with our petty ambitions and strivings in the presence of the great elemental forces of nature! Are you well up in your Jean Paul?"

"Fairly so. I worked back to him through Carlyle."

"That was like following the brook to the parent lake. He makes one curious but profound remark. It is that the chief proof of man's real greatness lies in his perception of his own smallness. It argues, you see, a power of comparison and of appreciation which is in itself a proof of nobility. There is much food for thought in Richter.”

Now, this was odd. Jean Paul Richter never became friends with Von Goethe, who disliked some of his literary methods. Goethe even dubbed him 'A Chinese in Rome' due to his perceived overuse of Orientalism in his writings..."but in Weimar, as elsewhere, his remarkable conversational powers and his genial manners made him a favorite in general society.”  Carlyle liked him.

Goethe spoke often of, especially in his play about striving and strife, itself, but so had other Romantics, so why use a quote from another author, already so close to the thoughts of the original muse it seems ACD has been using so far, especially if Goethe didn’t even like the guy?

You know something I have finally picked up on, is when having to look into historical figures, there is the official version...and then there is the rest that gets left out, which is a theme that seems to be peeking out from this story; that of an incomplete tale, searching for wholeness; the same theme that was used in BBC Sherlock.

Enter Warm Brothers: Queer Theory In The Age of Goethe by Robert Tobin, which contributed to most of the following information.

                Jean Paul

Johann Paul Friedrich Richter at one point changed his name from it’s more German sound to Jean Paul, which was French and what German society considered effeminate.

While most Romantic novelists wrote in the positive about Marriage, he usually wrote the experience as a negative; a deadly trap.

When he decide to marry, J.P. was quoted as saying “what he wanted was a woman to cook for him”.

18th century blurred the lines between homosexuality and heterosexuality. A person could have several ‘friends’ of different sexes, but could only love one person. Under the guise of friendship, people could say and write things that sound incredibly queer. Some men did not want their spouses to know about their letters, but others who were more pro-feminine, shared their lifestyle with their wives.

He coined the term “love of friends” used as a term among German homosexuals in the 20th century.

Jean was upset with the Christian faith, in part because he could not engage in health, fun horseplay with his male friends.

He once wrote to a friend, "Love must have something physical, a twig, down to which it flies. Send me a twig!” 

   (Seriously, these German dudes are killing me!)

Jean Paul is...or should be...considered an important voice in Love, Romance, and Homosexuality in German literature.

His novel Siebenkas is about Same Sex Desire, Orientalism, and a Love Triangle. From Transcendental Masturbators: Jean Paul's Siebenkas:

"Siebenkäs found Jean Paul leveling a more general critique at the Romantics and at Fichtean Idealism. This novel has been called “the first German marriage novel.” It appeared at a time in which the theory of marriage and the theory of self-consciousness were curiously intertwined. Jean Paul's critique of philosophical language threatened the self-understanding of German Idealism, construing it as a radicalization rather than a partial repudiation of the Enlightenment. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe's Wahlverwandtschaften showed that a married couple has sex while committing imaginary adultery. The erotics in the Wahlverwandtschafte imagined the four partners (real and imaginary) in four different sexual arrangements."

  Orientalism

The Orient had a reputation of an ‘excess of intercourse’ and that it ‘exuded dangerous sex’. It is probably not a coincidence that increase in colonization to parts of the Orient run parallel to the popularity of it’s ‘Sexual Exoticism’ in widespread European literature. Germany reinforced cliches about Sex and the Orient, codified and promoted them in literature and philosophy.

The 19th century British explorer Richard Burton mapped out what he called the SOTADIC ZONE; an area outside of Europe that seemed more prevalent to Homosexuality and Pederasty. (For Burton, pederasty and homosexuality were "geographical and climatic, not racial," meaning it could be found in all the red bits.)

The countries included Morocco, Tahiti, Siam, the West Indies, Northwest America, India, Arabia, Algiers, Egypt, Turkey, China, Siberia, Italy, Constantinople and more within this zone.

Many Europeans, including Wilde, regarded North Africa as ‘a playground full of potential partners’. Italy was well known for its male prostitutes. Hans Christian Anderson was quite ‘distracted’ by them.

Goethe penned an Orientalist novel The East-Western Divan. It turns out that among Goethe’s many interests, it included Eastern Religion and Literature. In an amenable nod to Jean Paul, he stated that “A man who has 'penetrated' the breadth, height, and depth of the Orient, will find that no author had approached the Eastern poets and other authors more than Jean Paul.”

From Holmes quoting Jean Paul, if one were to assume that he wasn't merely referring to Paul's general philosophies, but his other 'foods for thought', then that would have to point to the German novelist being an advent for same sex male friendship AND desire, his use of Orientalism, in Paul's case, BOTH of very close male-male friendships, and Exotic male bodies. He wrote novels, poetry, and papers on the subject, particularly about the acceptance of close male friendships, be they homo-social, homosexual, or otherwise.

(Incidentally, the story within the story of Small, and his exotic adventures...where is it set, again?)

"In response to an ongoing public feud between a local Gay poet and a known homophobe, Goethe took up the cause of homosexuality when it was under massive attack. The attacks had begun in earnest in 1807, not only in response to Goethe’s championing of Winkelmann in his essay of 1805, but in a politically charged campaign against the supposedly treasonous Homosexual Johannes Muller...the attacks on Muller, one of the most celebrated historians of his day, were venomous, for the first time, bringing Nationalism to bear on the interpretation of Homosexuality (at the same time, incidentally, when anti-semitism took on a particularly modern virulence)”

“Man, esthetically is after all much more beautiful, superior, more complete than woman. Once it had arisen, such a feeling then can veer off easily into the animalistic, brutishly physical. Pedarastry is as old as Humanity, and we can therefore say that it is found In nature, even as it is AGAINST nature.”

At this point in the meta, I was almost finished, and had saved Jean Paul for one of the last pieces. I almost stopped here, but I kept having a thought: WHAT IF 'FOOD FOR THOUGHT' REFERRED TO SOMETHING ELSE? A POEM OR OTHER BOOK BY PAUL?

From Amazon: "Life of Jean Paul F. Richter Volume 2", by Eliza Buckminster Lee and William Howitt, is a replication of a book originally published before 1845. It has been restored by human beings, page by page, so that you may enjoy it in a form as close to the original as possible."

This book includes a quote, from a critic, on a piece of work:

Only...the critic above was not speaking about Jean Paul, but Fredrich Schiller, and his highly praised piece of work,

The Philosophical and Aesthetic Letter and Essays of Schiller.

 Johann Christoph Friedrich Schiller (1759–1805) is best known for his immense influence on German literature. In his relatively short life, he authored an extraordinary series of dramas, including The Robbers, Maria Stuart, and the trilogy Wallenstein. He was also a prodigious poet, composing perhaps most famously the “Ode to Joy” featured in the culmination of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony and enshrined, some two centuries later, in the European Hymn.[1] In part through his celebrated friendship with Goethe, he edited epoch-defining literary journals and exerted lasting influence on German stage production. He is sometimes referred to as the German Shakespeare; his are still among the most widely produced German plays both in Germany and internationally.

In addition to his literary accomplishments, Schiller was a formidable philosophical thinker. Between 1791 and 1796, he authored a range of theoretical works that are both sophisticated and original. These writings primarily concern aesthetics, but they stake out notable positions on ethics, metaphysics, ontology, and political theory as well. Together, his essays helped shape one of the most prolific periods of German philosophizing; since then, they have served as a significant source of philosophical insight from an aesthetic practitioner of the highest standing.

"As we shall see, Schiller’s solution to Kant’s belief that morality can only be achieved by negating man’s negative sensuous impulses, is to educate the emotions of man, in order to bring them into harmony with reason. For Schiller, a human being who has achieved such harmony, by transforming his selfish, infantile erotic emotions into agape of truth, justice, and beauty, is a “beautiful soul.” Moreover, since only such a person is truly free, durable political freedom can only be achieved by deliberately fostering such an aesthetical education of man’s emotions among the population. Because Schiller’s writings are such a devastating critique of the philosophical basis for continuing oligarchical oppression of humanity, academic agents of the oligarchy, taking advantage of the abstraction of Schiller’s argument, have gone so far as to attempt to deny his opposition to Kant, even to the point of lyingly portraying him as a Kantian".

Thomas Mann did a life-long study of Schiller in Queer terms for decades, and asserted in his last work Essay on Schiller, that the philosopher had an intense love for Goethe:

"The great adventure of his life, his experience of passion, of passionate attraction and repulsion, of deep friendship, deep desire and admiration; of give and take, of jealousy, of melancholy, envy and proud self-assertion, of lasting, affective tension...was an event between man and a man. It was his relationship with Goethe."  Mann asserts that Schiller was the completely 'masculine' writer, that wanted to attribute to Goethe a 'feminine manner'.

The intense male friendships in many of Schiller's works have resulted in the inclusion of his works in various compilations of 'Gay Literature', including Bullough's Bibliography of Homosexuality. His piece Wallenstein is a known source for Gay Male History. During Schiller's time and beyond, his work was considered so Queered, that it seems 'The Appropriation of Schiller' actually became a thing. You will find his influence in plays, essays, adaptations, cinema.

So prominent was the talk about Schiller's perceived Homosexuality in Queer circles, that a Satirical magazine, Jugend, featured in one issue a drawing of two boys, resting, and overlooking a bridge and a tower, complete with a quote from Schiller. Sascha Schneider, untitled, 1897, Queer Schiller?

 From Warm Brothers: "Let us leave the realm of psychoanalysis and return to Schiller . As Jane Bennett points out, confining Schiller to the purely abstract, to concepts like humanity and liberty vitiates his most heartfelt beliefs. Schiller was quite capable of writing abstract theses but chose instead, to write dramatic plays. In the abstract thesis, he went to bat for Aesthetics...for that realm of experience that attempted to bridge the gap between the mind and body; that attempted to connect sensual pleasure with thought. Schiller's hope, in the Letters of Aesthetic Education on Humanity, was that people could will to do what they ought to do. 'The 'willing' is often a sensual, physical, bodily act. The drama attempts as to flesh out the moral problems that Schiller confronts by giving these problems to people with actual bodies. By ignoring the sensual, physical, bodily in Schiller's dramas, readers have tended to turn him into an intellectual, concept artist, which is at odds with his philosophy of art. Schiller had begun his career with writings on the mind/body problem, inspired by the medical models that denied the separation."

Faust is academically seen as a treatise on Schiller's Letters. And the skull that Faust has is based on the actual skull of Schiller's that Johann kept for a short time.

If HoImes sees himself in this story, as Goethe and Watson as Schiller, he may have just hinted to Watson that he is a man of faults, but that he yearns to have a more human existence; a friendship that goes beyond the platonic, and to be made whole, through a sensual, physical act.

After all of this, everything just seemed to go quiet. I stopped working for a while, and started to cry.   

@sarahthecoat  @possiblyimbiassed  @holmezyan  @theconsultinglinguist @iamsherlockedbyholmes @impossibleleaf  @raggedyblue  @elldotsee @gosherlocked  @elwinglyre @consulting-nerd-of-many-things @bluebluenova @devoursjohnlock @may-shepard

[graemeruns]

London Marathon 2019

It’s never easy running two marathons close together, and in my case, because I had put everything into the Manchester marathon and was not able to run for a week after, the three week recovery between the two races was not enough. I managed to build up some miles again in the second week post-Manchester, and enjoyed a fast parkrun at Lloyd Park where I knocked 5 seconds off my course PB there, but then I was into the taper again. In my final week I always do a marathon-pace effort in the shoes I intend wearing on the day, but just 4km wearing my On Cloud X lightweight racers aggravated my calves again, so I decided not to wear them for London. Shoe choice then became a dilemma: I thought I would wear my Mizuno Wave Sayanoras, then after referencing my training log and discovering that I had never run further than 13 miles in them, ditched that idea and resorted to my Mizuno Wave Riders. I’ve worn these in road marathons before, but at 312g they are quite heavy, and I would have preferred something a bit lighter. Still, there was no way the 13mm heal-to-toe drop would overuse my calves, and the cushioning would be nice too.

Friday, expo day; Saturday, taking it easy doing stuff around the house; Sunday, up before my alarm, usual pre-marathon breakfast of porridge and toast, and off to catch the 8:05am train from West Wickham station. For once, I wasn’t at all nervous, because I had no pressure to do well. The weather was cool, although fairly breezy, but very decent conditions for running.

There was quite a gathering of Striders and other local club runners on the train, so the 20 minute journey to Lewisham went in the blink of an eye. Then there’s the 25 minute walk to the start, which meant I was there before 9am. This year, London marathon had split the Good For Age competitors among all starts, and I was on my own in the Yellow start. There were definitely some Striders and other runners I know in there somewhere, but I couldn’t find any of them. It was pretty chilly when I handed my bag in at 9:20, and so began 50 minutes of waiting for the start; I actually entered the starting pen at 9:40 thinking that it would be warmer surrounded by other people, which it was, but after 20 minutes of standing I was noticing how much my hamstrings were already aching. It wasn’t a good beginning to the race!

Despite getting in the starting pen quite early, it still too me 2 minutes to get over the line after the gun went off. I was keen to get going, and warm up, but the aching hamstrings were not helping. I set about trying to maintain a good pace; with no idea how much I had recovered from Manchester, I hadn’t really decided what pace to aim for, but just to run as naturally as my body felt, with the hope that I might be able to sneak in under 3 hours. I covered the first 10k in a satisfactory time of just over 41 minutes. The next 10k was quite a bit slower, in 42:40, but that still meant half-way came up in around 1:28:30, so if I could maintain this slower pace I could be on for something close to 3 hours. However, I was already feeling very drained; I remember at the time thinking it felt as hard as the last few kilometers of Manchester a few weeks earlier, but there was still a long way to go. At 25k I was still slowing, and soon after this Andy from Striders overtook me. I thought about trying to hang with him for a while, but by now my legs were very heavy, and the effort to catch up and try and hang on for a bit might ruin me completely, so I let him go. (Andy finished with a new PB of 2:58:24).

By the 20 mile mark my hope of a sub 3 had gone, and now the time really didn’t matter, and it was all about getting to the finish as quickly as I could muster to end the pain. I covered the remaining part of the marathon averaging a fairly pedestrian 4:45 - 4:50/km, but my heart rate was hovering around 160bpm, which is the top end of my marathon-pace range, so I was doing about as much as I could. My time over the line was 3:06:38 (you can see my run on Strava here). Everything considered, I was absolutely OK with that: I had done what I could, tried a plan, but my Manchester recovery just hadn’t been enough. There’s a lot of people who would be absolutely thrilled with that time, finishing within the top 3000 of 42500 runners. For me it was just the end of another race, and time to analyse the damage done.

I find it fascinating how your body reacts to different scenarios. It was easy to compare both my marathons because running conditions had been very similar: cool, overcast, with a breeze (though a bit windier in places at London) and mostly flat. The main differences were: freshness, shoes and congestion. Let’s take one at a time:

1) Freshness: Manchester had definitely taken more out of me than I thought. Once I had started to run during the recovery weeks I felt very sluggish, and the weekend two weeks after the marathon where I ran a fast parkrun followed by the Sunday Striders off-road run had wiped me out for 2 days. Then I did a marathon paced run of 4k that made my calves sore again. All of these were mistakes when you are due to run another marathon so soon, and definitely put my recovery back. In hindsight my runs in-between the events should have been at an easy or recovery pace.

2) Shoes: the last minute choice to change to my marathon training shoes from my On Cloud X was probably the right thing to do based on the hammering my calves at taken at Manchester. I did some research before London, and tests have show that for every 100g extra a shoe weighs slows the runner by around 0.8%, which is around 1.30 minutes for a 3 hour marathon. 1:30 is a lot, but when you aren’t sure whether you will run sub 3 or 3:20, it didn’t matter. What I find interesting is, because I got tired by half-way, my running form must have fallen apart and the high heel-to-toe drop of the shoe forced me to overuse my quads, ‘dragging’ my legs forward rather then activating the hip and hamstring in a pendulum motion. Result: extremely sore quads afterwards, and bruised toes from heel-striking rather than landing mid-forefoot. My calves were completely unscathed though!

3) Congestion: not a huge issue, but even getting to the water stops this year was difficult if you were on the wrong side of the road. There were also far fewer water stations this year (apparently this was on purpose to reduce waste, but I must have missed the email) and far too many Lucozade and gel stations. So, for the first time at London, I think I got dehydrated this year, because I ignored some water stations thinking there would be another in the next mile, but there wasn’t. I even had a cup of Lucozade at one point I was that desperate!

So that’s my summary of the Virgin Money London Marathon 2019. I’m not saying this based on my performance, but I genuinely didn’t enjoy any of it this year. I don’t like crowds -  I can get panicked and stressed around too many people, and this year I found the marathon overbearing - the number of runners, the crowds, and the noise, was just too much. I actually covered my ears during some of the ‘cheer’ zones. Having run it 4 times now, I will give it a break next year - I have already entered Brighton Marathon 2020. I’m excited already to think of going back to where I ran my first ever marathon in 2014. My over-ambitious plan is to try and run it 25 minutes faster than I did 6 years previously - 2:49:23. Is it too big an ask at my age to run four and a half minutes quicker than my recent Manchester time? Maybe, but I think I just need a plan, and, as some of you will know, there’s nothing I like better than a nicely structured, good old fashioned training plan.

[douxreviews]

Glass Review

...or, 'The People v. M. Night Shyamalan.'

I finally managed to get out to see Glass. I'm going to do something a little different with this one, so bear with me. SPOILER ALERT: I will discuss the movie's contents openly in this review. You have been warned.

The Charges:

After The Sixth Sense and Unbreakable, the defendant was revered throughout Hollywood. His career seemed to be getting off to a promising start, and one magazine even heralded him as 'the next Spielberg.' Then audiences were underwhelmed by Signs and The Village, and distressed by The Lady in the Water, The Happening, and The Last Airbender. The defendant's career took a sharp downturn, and many came to hate him as a filmmaker and avoid his films. The defendant's name became an audience turnoff, rather than a draw. As the defendant's career went on, films like The Visit and Split engaged audiences and began to alter their perceptions of him. Then the defendant announced his development of Glass. A sequel to both Unbreakable and Split, two of his more popular films, and coming at an upturn in his career, it is clear that Glass will be the final trial of the defendant, M. Night Shyamalan. This film is the culmination of the argument of whether or not the defendant is a good filmmaker.

Past Evidence:

The prosecution brings to the court's attention the films The Lady in the Water, The Happening, The Last Airbender, and After Earth. These films are all poorly received by critics and audiences, and have disappointed many people over the years. The prosecution also draws attention to the underwhelming twists in The Village and Signs, which also disappointed audiences by not being as brilliant or monumental as they were hoping for.

The defense offers the films The Sixth Sense, Unbreakable, The Visit, and Split. The first two are brilliant films, beloved by critics and audiences for many years. The latter two have represented an improvement in the defendant's career, as he steered away from the 'gotcha' twist approach to filmmaking and made good, straightforward films in the horror and thriller genres. The defense also points to the great crafting of atmosphere in Signs, also seen in the defendant's other thrillers and horror films.

The Defense's Opening Argument - Simple things I liked about Glass:

In Glass, M. Night Shyamalan has made a film that he wants to make. He financed it personally, and it is a wholly director-driven film from beginning to end. It is very clear as one watches that Shyamalan has made a film that conforms to the vision he had for it. Glass unfolds just as Shyamalan wants it to, and every decision that was made was the decision that Shyamalan intended to make. The argument cannot reasonably be made that he does not recognize what he is doing with his film. He knows exactly what he is doing with it, and he has done with it exactly what he believed was best for the film.

The cinematography is gorgeous, and it works perfectly with Shyamalan's intentions. The fancy camerawork and occasional dutch angles are wonderfully artistic, and they actually serve a purpose unlike many other films nowadays. Sweeping pans and tilted cameras are often used just for the sake of using them in modern films; in contrast, Shyamalan knows what these things will accomplish, and he uses them to great effect. As in many of his other films, Shyamalan also uses color in a very striking manner. From the monochrome, faded tones of Dr. Staple and the mental hospital to the bold, varied colors of the main characters, the film's use of color is at least beautiful, even if it isn't as brilliant as it was in The Sixth Sense and Unbreakable.

The last simple thing that really worked for me, although it may have ultimately been contrary to the film's goals, was the strong connection with Unbreakable, one of my favorite movies. West Dylan Thordson's score employs several themes from Unbreakable's music, composed by James Newton Howard. The use of many of the same actors who played characters in Unbreakable, too, helped ground the film in that world, especially Spencer Treat Clark as Joseph. It was also remarkable how well Shyamalan incorporated several deleted scenes from Unbreakable, never before seen by the general public. These felt like a seamless part of the film, as did the perfectly cut transition from Kevin's father on the train to the original opening sequence of Unbreakable. All of these choices help the film to feel like an authentic extension of what came before, and this really improved my enjoyment of Glass considerably as I watched it.

The Prosecution's Opening Argument - Simple things I disliked about Glass:

Glass is not a perfect film. There are a few things that I felt didn't work quite like Shyamalan wanted them to. The first is the pacing. There are some major pacing issues with the film in the second act, and there are some elements that Shyamalan spends too much time on. I got tired, for example, of cycling through Kevin Crumb's different personalities in scene after scene. Don't get me wrong: watching James McAvoy do his thing is remarkably entertaining, but it gets old when the same scene occurs over and over and the same information is delivered by Kevin's different personalities.

Another flaw was in the use, or lack thereof, of the film's secondary characters - Casey, Joseph, and Mrs. Price. While the actors do a great job, and it's especially fun to watch Spencer Treat Clark do an equally great job now as he did 19 years ago, they felt for most of the film like they weren't doing enough to justify the screen time they were taking up. I get that the audience needed to be reminded that these characters were important throughout the movie, but perhaps there were better ways to incorporate them so that they had more meaningful roles to play before the climax. Maybe Joseph could have planned a breakout, only to have his hopes dashed when his plan fails. Casey could have helped him, or interacted with a friend who helped her to make sense of the things that were going on in her mind. Mrs. Price is the only one who I feel was not underused, because her scenes with Elijah made sense and went places, without repeating themselves over and over.

Lastly, I would have liked some better set-up for the secret society of clover tattoos, or whatever we're calling them. I thought when I initially saw the first clover tattoo that I was supposed to recognize it from earlier in the film and I didn't remember having seen it. It seemed to come a bit out of left field, as well - I knew that Dr. Staple couldn't just have been a psychiatrist, but that's about all the justification we have for it from the rest of the movie.

Defense Witnesses - McAvoy, Willis, Jackson, Clark, and Taylor-Joy:

One thing M. Night Shyamalan is usually very good at is getting amazing performances from his actors, particularly young ones. In both Unbreakable and The Sixth Sense, the movies relied heavily on child performers, and Shyamalan was able to get incredible and moving portrayals from the children in each. Both Haley Joel Osment from The Sixth Sense and Spencer Treat Clark from Unbreakable went on to have reasonably successful careers, and remain good actors to this day.  Even in today's Hollywood, with the practice of using young-looking actors in their twenties to play teenagers, Shyamalan has thrived on great performances from performers such as Anya Taylor-Joy as Casey Cooke.

But Shyamalan does not just get great work from children. The adults in his movies are often very skilled, and if they are, they bring all of their skill to the table for his films. Whether it's James McAvoy's stellar if overused performance as Kevin Crumb's 23 personalities, Samuel L. Jackson's appropriately unsettling turn as Mr. Glass, or Bruce Willis showing up and giving it his all for the first time in years, Shyamalan consistently utilizes all of the talent his actors have to offer.

The Prosecution Calls the Defendant to the Stand - M. Night's case against himself:

Even as filmmakers go, M. Night Shyamalan has had an enlarged sense of his own importance in the past - see also casting himself as a brilliant writer in The Lady in the Water. He is also not a subtle filmmaker - see also casting himself as a brilliant writer in The Lady in the Water. Both of these tendencies come into play in Glass. Shyamalan's intention for this film is to make it feel like a naturally progressing story, and yet also to make you think it's one film when it's really a completely different film the whole time. All this, and the audience is supposed to leave the film both feeling satisfied and feeling like they fell for something clever and well-constructed. In short, the audience needs to walk out of the theater believing that the filmmaker was intelligent and clever for tricking them in the way that he did. It's hard not to believe that this played into Shyamalan's ego a little bit. It's also understandable that he would want to feel this way again; after all, 'the next Spielberg' is high praise, and when people love the movies you've made as much as audiences loved The Sixth Sense and Unbreakable, it becomes hard not to get a big head about your own talent. But if audiences are underwhelmed by the twist or reversal, and they feel like it wasn't worth the fake out, it backfires by making people feel cheated instead of cleverly tricked.

The Jury Deliberates:

I'm conflicted about this film. It's very well planned out, and equally well executed. Each element is used towards Shyamalan's purpose for the film as a whole. My big question is whether or not I like that purpose. The ending is successful in that I was duly convinced I was watching one film and I was surprised when I discovered I was watching another. But did it please me or did it disappoint utterly? Lest you think I'm creating false suspense, I'm trying to figure out these questions for myself as I type these words. But I think now the jury has reached a verdict.

The Verdict:

As a film, I love Glass. It's a true Shyamalan-style movie, with a reversal (I don't think I'll call this one a twist) at the end that does successfully alter your perception of the film entirely. It's well-constructed, though not without its pacing issues, but the buildup felt right and worked for me. The movie is well-shot, well-scored, and well-acted, and all the craftsmanship present is incredible. And I think that if Unbreakable had not existed, that would have been enough to make me love the movie. Simply marketing it as a superhero epic from M. Night Shyamalan would've been enough to get me into the theater, and would also have put the expectation in my mind that the film was building to a classic superhero conclusion. In such a case, the twist would have satisfied me by giving me a different movie than I expected, and I would have loved it.

But as a sequel and a continuation of Unbreakable, I'm not quite so convinced. As I said before, Unbreakable is one of my favorite movies of all time. I think the best description of that film is 'the first act of a superhero movie,' and in that context I expected Glass to be the second and third acts. Instead I got a classic M. Night Shyamalan film, that's not what you expect it to be and tells an odd but clever story. As a film, that's what I want to see, but as a sequel to Unbreakable, it was a let-down. Because I love Unbreakable so much, I was hoping to see an epic continuation/conclusion to that story. That drew me in just like I was supposed to be drawn in, and it made the twist work to subvert my expectations just as Shyamalan intended. I didn't get the film I was expecting. That would be fine if the film I was expecting wasn't also the film I wanted. It would be fine if the film I was expecting wasn't the film I've wished could exist since the closing credits of Unbreakable first crossed my screen. It would be fine if the epic conclusion to an epic story that I was really excited to see wasn't broken and crushed, shot in the gut, and drowned in a puddle. As a film, Glass is amazing. But as a sequel, 19 years in the making, to a movie I love, it was disappointing and sad.

However, Glass has successfully proved to this court that the defendant has still got it, that he can still deliver a film that's as well made as the ones he used to make two decades ago. The jury finds the defendant not guilty.

I'm not going to rate this movie. I couldn't rate it in a way that I could completely get behind.

CoramDeo believes in the power of storytelling.

[rowingchat]

Jim Joy versus the Rowing Stroke part 2

What are we looking for when we are observing someone out on the river in a single shell? For me, whether the person is a sculler or a slugger depends on two major qualities. Does the shell pause momentarily in its sliding forward and does the bow sink below the horizontal at the release.

Vince Reynolds Sculling with Jim Joy

These are two important tell tale signs of something that is not efficient is occurring with the run of the shell.

The correction method for the stop in the shell run is simply eliminate the pause above the water at the entry point: the blade should just drop in. Eliminating the bow drop is equally damaging to the shell run because now you have a vertical component. This is eliminated by sitting slightly beyond the perpendicular and imaging that the bow is running level at the release. Your hands should complete the drive phase by finishing slightly above the navel. This will keep the movements of the trunk and arms horizontal. So, you have both a physical and mental aspects to the correction. This approach is attempting to analyze the sculling before us. It is not assuming that the successful scullers in the world today are good boat movers. It is using information both from the past and the present to make these judgements. It is giving full weight to the person and his ability to move a shell effectively and not simply to rely on his training numbers on the erg, with the weights or any other tests. It is purely how the organism interfaces with the shell and is able to get the boat to slide effectively through the water.

The search for the correct movements in the sculling stroke must begin somewhere. It deserves so many questions and I am so filled with wonder and awe over the magnitude of this sport and this particular endeavour. Many of these questions were answered during my first session with Robert Fitzpatrick, as he took me through the journey of the 32 movements of the cycle. It left me with a huge headache for my 5 mile bike ride to home in West St. Catharines.

The philosophy of the sculler begins with trying to achieve two things, a smooth muscle action, and a sound, clear mind over the course of the training. We can observe the muscle action and should become sensitive to whether it is fluid or not. The observation of the mind is an aspect that takes some training to perceive. In our immediate viewing of the sculler, we can observe if the facial features show strain. Keep in mind the 100 meter dash runners have no strain on their faces: they are totally relaxed.

The mind begins its work by focusing on the smallest muscular action. If the small part is fluid, then the whole will be fluid. It is the free, smooth, muscle action that is the goal. This smooth movement is the precursor for Flow. In sculling, we try to have flow in the body and in the mind and spirit in the shell. The body actions are directly connected to the workings of the mind. This is a wonderful composite action when all of these components are present and come together. Integrative action is beautiful, inexplicable and a wonder to behold.

Our mental state must return to our childhood play. We must attempt to remember those years when we played hard and long. We played with a clear mind fully concentrated on the activity at hand. We must view the world of sculling with fresh eyes; the eyes of wonder We must strive to touch our sense of wonder, our sense of curiosity because there is so much to learn and to discover as we sit on this seat of wisdom. It is a return to our primal self. When we meditate and sit in the shell, we are sitting on the ageless earth of our forefathers. It is with the eyes of the inquisitive and curious child that we discover that there is so much to take in with our sculling. There are so many questions to ask, as we progress deeper and deeper into the skill. For this reason we do need a competent mentor as a guide in our journey. Someone that we can work with on on our travel into the region of wonder. With proper imaging, we will see our free flowing bodies in total engagement. This state of action is what we will explore in this little book. How do we bring it about, how do we reinforce it and maintain it?

Vince Reynolds sent this, “I think the child like mind is lost when curiosity is replaced with a need to succeed and supplement ones Ego self. Kids are by and large only curious critters and as such they are not driven to attain a certain level of greatness and as such they do not behave in manners to support some ego driven nonsense. They are doing to have fun and enjoy and if they discover neat things along the way this is a double plus.”

The enjoyment aspect of the skill training should be paramount and the improvement becomes part of a natural process. You certainly can observe the difference in the performance of the Olympic skaters when they are performing in the post Olympics period in comparison to when the medals are at stake.

Percy Cerutty, the old Australian track coach, wrote, “If we study the movements of child from three or four to eight or ten years we will see, in most cases, free uninhibited movements- no tensions, no pose, no false assumptions.” Cerutty would include the study of animals along with children in his investigations on training his athletes. This approach was in evidence in the work of the French painter Edgar Degas with his paintings of fine racehorses and young dancer. A child’s exploration of the world is fresh and new and beautiful, full of wonder and excitement. It is our misfortune that for most of us that clear eyed vision, that true instinct for what is beautiful and awe-inspiring, is dimmed and even lost before we reach adulthood. It is an emphasis on the person’s athleticism that we must promote. The child has this quality. We must as coaches rediscover and promote theses primitive qualities in our young athletes We should take an integrated approach to the training of the whole body including the mental and spiritual aspects. This approach should be foremost in the mind of the coach. In rowing these qualities are eliminated from the young athlete by the overuse and over testing on the ergometer and by taking a numbers approach for evaluating the progress of training. The young imagination is stifled. The fun and enjoyment aspects are overlooked. We then become separated from the shell. We lose our sensitivity to its movements. We forget our overall posture in the shell. We forget our posture as a person. Our carriage becomes misaligned. This childlike mind is what I remember about my old friend Marvin Bram, professor Emeritus of History at Hobart and William Smith Colleges. On campus walk with Marvin he pointed to a lamp post and stated that the structure came with a cost. I thought about his comment for a while and realize that he was right. Our world of nature had been disturbed.

James Dundon a teacher and sculling coach wrote me this note recently, “your writing about discovering and sustaining a child like innocence with sculling is something we focus on at 612 Endurance. For example, we play a game called predator/prey on our steady states where we adapt rating to hunt one another down or to evade capture. We also use gamesmanship on our drills by challenging ourselves to take the most number of strokes on the square without losing our balance (I do not recommend square blade sculling). Mostly, we work on being aware of the larger circle around us; bow and stern and the tips of each blade. Your focus on discovering a childlike pleasure in that pursuit is definitely what it takes to find deeper meaning in the endeavor… absolutely beautiful. I need to read more about the quantum sculling approach to fully comprehend your reference. I also really appreciate your reference to St. Francis as a guide to gently sharing. We try to embrace that approach by sharing what we see in one another. We’re attempting to create an atmosphere that attracts folks who believe in gently sharing and helping one another, as it will hopefully benefit the other person and ourselves. The process of teaching, a challenging concept to another person, can somehow result in the teachers gaining an advanced improvement in their own work.”

The pursuit begins with our childlike love of the Earth and the Universe beyond. We must observe closely, engage, and embrace, wonder, and understand the natural world around us no matter how simple or elaborate that settling maybe. It maybe the city park, the farmland or the small town. We must discipline ourselves to really see the living trees around us. I remember when we left Connecticut years ago I embraced the large and beautiful maple in our backyard and said goodbye to it. It was my friend. On so many nights I can remember sitting under this beautiful tree with a sense of wonder and appreciation for its beauty. I was being childlike in my relationship to the tree. Recently, there was a large Black Maple in Boston that was to be cut down and the inhabitants of the city made an effort to hug the huge tree before it met its fate. The hugging brings us closer to the earth and our real experience. It touches our deeper spirit and the flexibility of our bodies and mind/spirit. You look at the world around you differently, with different eyes and different sensing mind. After our hill runs at Hobart and William Smith Colleges the students would terminate their runs with hugging a tree.

Jimmy Joy leading quiet sitting

  On a daily basis you have the athlete return to his sensing state by having him sit on the floor on a regular basis. As he feels his butt on the floor he moves a little closer to the earth and the natural world. We do the same when we sit and play in our shell.This is a good starting point for returning to his childlikeness. I was encouraged to take a few moments to reflect before doing a piece on the water. The regular practice of quiet sitting is essential for achieving the clear mind of the child. With modernity we seemed to have lost our capacity to sit on the earth on various occasions. This is unfortunate because as we pointed out this could be the beginning of our childlike wonder. We must take every opportunity to sit on the earth. The Japanese sit on the floor for their meals and we in the west sit on chairs.

Plotinus felt that this practice of meditation is where you come to realize truth from the inside and not from the outside. He felt that the spirit develops until there is no difference between the “knower, the knowing, and the known.” Plotinus is directing us to a higher purpose and a higher mind that can be begun at an early age. However, we must on a daily basis return to our prayer cushion for precious moments of silence.

For Percy Cerutty, the great and unconventional coach of 50 years ago “athleticism had to be adult play. Children will play until exhausted.” So we have to return to the role of being a child with our sculling and hopefully with our training in general. It has to be a form of play and enjoyment.

The other day in an AT&T store I was treated to a TV display of playfulness watching the long-tailed macaque monkeys. They are so fluid, and flexible, simply great athletes. Children have the same capabilities.We cloud this development with too much programming, drilling and not enough free play and exploration. We must give our young athletes an opportunity to breathe.

From a small Ontario town I began my voyage into Nature at an early age.as I was constantly outside in all types of weather. The Western hill section of St. Catharines became my playground for sandlot football, for baseball and softball, for school soccer, and for lacrosse with the “Hill’s” Shamrocks. We also had our own skinny dipping swimming hole in the old Welland canal. We usually played our pickup games in our stocking feet and it was a great experience to feel the cold, fall grass under our feet. We felt that we were connecting directly with the earth.. We were part of a greater universe.

On the Western Hill it would be on the Station Park field and our football games that our expression of flow would really take place. In the immediate post World WarII period we would try to emulate the moves of two football heroes, Joe Krol and Royal Copeland. They became our models for flow. Being a pre-tv era, we had to rely and hang on every report of their exploits in the Toronto newspapers. We could only imagine their fluid movements for the Toronto Argonauts and we allowed our young imaginations to run wild. Our mothers did not particularly welcome our dirty wet socks from our shoeless play on the park.

We played from ages 10-15 against the local private school, the famous Ridley College. I had the responsibility to arrange the games through the Ridley school and to closely monitor our urchins that they did not steal any equipment from the Ridley boys after the games were completed. The Ridley boys were completely outfitted and we were in our everyday clothes. It certainly hurt when they stepped on our feet with their cleats. We progressed in this play through the various grades Looking back it was a great learning experience for me in leadership as I served as the organizer, coach and disciplinarian for our young team. It certainly provided me with an opportunity to grow and experience.

Trillium flower

So, the summer months were idyllic as we were constantly on the move. My contemplation of nature came a little later with my Sunday visits to the old dam that was situated farther upstream from the swimming hole. Here I could bask in the sunlight, watch the meandering stream and spend time with my young consciousness. In the early spring the opposite bank was filled with gorgeous white Trilliums the official flower of Ontario. We realized that we could not pick the Trillium .. We could only admire them and feel the pride of knowing that this was our Provincial flower. The total scene by the stream was a wonderful example of Flow. Observing the quiet continuous flow of the stream became a beautiful metaphor for the concept of smooth movement that I would try to duplicate in two sports over the next few years, in wrestling and in sculling. The moves and movements had to become instinctual and continuous. It was a struggle to achieve this state because the academic mind and thought kept intruding into the picture. It was definitely two distinct ways of looking at the world around us. To achieve the smoothness in the muscle action you had to think with more feeling. You had to think more instinctively. My childlike mentality prevailed over the more rigid and arid academic approach to learning the skills. I would playfully try new moves and concepts. There had to be a high degree of exploring and play involved in your skill learning. Fortunately, my coaches in both sports were supportive, and so, I did achieve a degree of Flow in both sports. So, my attachment to the natural world began for me over 60 years ago. I recall that I was slightly out of the mainstream with my peers and their thinking at the time. Sometimes, I feel the same today. People fail to see the connections between things.

My meditation practice would not surface until much later. When I learned to free up mind and have it work with my body and spirit. When I flowed, my whole body flowed. In the following years I refined my thoughts on the subject of flow by recognizing the importance of smooth muscle action. And I tried to carry these concepts into my everyday life, well beyond the sphere of my sporting activities. My subsequent coaching permitted me to expand my understanding of the flow concept even further. It became part of myself and the quest for understanding became an intimate part of my coaching. I looked for Flow everywhere.

The Flow of the Body begins with a careful monitoring of your own individual movements, while standing, walking, sitting, running, lifting or sculling. Whatever the action is. It involves how you get into and out of the shell; every move has to be athletic. Entering a shell hold one hand holding the handles and the other hand on the gunwales or rigger if possible. Place one foot on the dock and the other foot between the tracks, shove off and step into the shoe and sit down. Then bring your other foot forward into the shoe. You had to recapture the flexibility of your early teenage years. Entering the shell was part of your return to a state of Wonder.

Work over your handles to tie your shoes. All of these movements should be completed fluidly and with a distinct mental sense of focused purpose. It was by replicating the movement that flow was developed. You followed the same pattern over and over until it became part of you. This physical patterning plus the mental concentration on the pattern of the movement was what consolidated the flow and the ability to be able to call it up immediately.

Our approach to the sculling training should also be one of curiosity and wonder. We have to have the eyes and feelings of the child. You are fully aware of every movement, even carrying the oars and placing them in a deliberate fashion onto the dock. Each movement has to be carefully examined for smooth motion. So you have to thoroughly embrace the movements of the body. Every action has to be deeply felt in your physical and mental body no matter how small the movement may be. You are operating as a whole person, aware, conscious and concentrated. You see yourself. You are an athlete, operating as an athlete at all times. Your movements become who you are. The flow of the body becomes intrinsic. I recall vividly how I would employ a slow motion in approaching the dock at the end of each practice session and would effortlessly slip alongside the dock’s edge. So a major ingredient of Flow is the consistency of the movement. So simply do the same movement over and over.

It would be a few years from these playful moments that I would explore the literary works of excellent guides connecting me to nature. I found my guides in the literature of Heraclitus, Thomas Berry, Wendell Berry, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, and David Bohm,and the old sculler and master builder, George Pocock. This odyssey began for me with my coach Bob Fitzpatrick urging me to visualize the stroke cycle with “The Mind’s Eye.”It was around the same time that I discovered two little books, Eugen Herrigel’s, Zen in the Art of Archery and Shunryu Suzuki’s, Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind. These two gems would remain an integral part of my thought and library wherever I landed. The reading is so important for discovery of new ideas and for the expansion of one’s knowledge.

I have thirsted for more of this type of reading over the subsequent years. Recently, I have returned to the work of Rachel Carson. It is a deliberate attempt to connect the workings of my mind with the movement of my physical body. I want to achieve flow in my mind and in my writings. Great writers and great writing assist with this cause. From Plotinus, it was seeing the oneness in everything. He adhered to the adage of “living in the world without being of the world.”

Again today we can find excellent guidance from our ponds, rivers, lakes and even our oceans. We should recognize the living nature of water. This is particularly important for our sculling and connecting the blade to the water. It is powerful bonding. We seek to engage the Earth on our hikes to the countryside and to the nearby glens and ravines. Our spirit is renewed and the plasticity of our minds permits us to include wholeness and integration. We embrace the Natural World. We seek a special resonance with it. Today, we have our own nature sanctuary across the street from our apartment complex and we plan to spend a good deal of time there in this coming year. It is where we can find the silence on a daily basis.St. Francis reminds us of the benefits from simplicity and gentle sharing as well as the experience of solitude, stillness and silence. All of this practice and thought can easily be woven into the fabric of the sculling stroke.

Vince Reynolds, my friend and devotee to quantum sculling, has extensive observations on the movement of the stern when he writes “It seems as soon as I become the least bit attentive to detail and start “ pulling or yanking” at the change of entry then the wake reflects an immediate loss of continuance of movement. This effects the entry and the release movements and the levelness of the pull. Watch the bow and make sure that it is running level. Do not rush or yank any part of the body. We must become lighter in touch.”

Here he is directly applying the movements of his body to the movement of the shell. Yes, you have to go lighter, especially with the fingers. There is potentially so much power in the fingers. I think that this was an excellent observation on Vince’s part. He is engaged with a childlike approach to investigation of the various movements. I recall telling him in the fall to take more time with the end of the drive, your release and the follow through. Don’t rush or yank the handles.

Lately, I have been very aware to live and act as a Quantum person and the work of David Bohm has become hugely important to me. Bohm expressed this same sense of wonder as he explored the world of quantum physics. Being integrated and connected, has taken on special significance for me So, it is an internal odyssey that is never ending or complete. It is our consciousness that we must explore and come to know more deeply. It is here inside of us where our being really lies. This short book will try to explore the various strands of this consciousness, the childlike wonder, the emphasis on smooth movement and how these qualities apply to our sculling. As we explore the workings of each movement we should operate with a sense of wonder and we must keep our minds open and curious. How do you develop a child like mind in our present environment? This is a profound question. My only answer after much soul searching is to live with honesty, curiosity, and simplicity. These are the qualities required for approaching the learning of sculling. What do you think? We must attempt to be childlike.

The process involves our love of the Earth and the Universe beyond. There are excellent literary guides found in Heraclitus, Thomas Berry, Wendell Berry, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, David Bohm,

Our spirit is renewed and the plasticity of our minds permits us to include wholeness and integration. St.Francis reminds us of the benefits from simplicity and gentle sharing as well as the experience of solitude, stillness and silence. All of this is woven into the fabric of the sculling stroke. Our return to the stroke is an occasion to vibrate at a much different frequency than is usually found in our every day lives. It is the wholeness of the operating cycle and the closeness to primeval nature that provides us with this profound opportunity

This philosophy began for me over 70 years ago on the banks of the headwaters of the 12 mile creek in St. Catharines, Ontario. It led me to observe my own body movements as I was looking for smooth muscle action. At the creek side the setting was the slow, meandering of the stream. It was a beautiful introduction to flow that I would employ in two sports over the next few years, in wrestling and in sculling. The moves and movements had to become instinctual and continuous. It was a struggle to achieve because the mind and thought kept intruding into the picture. However, I did achieve the flow in both sports. In the following years I refined and learned more about this phenomenon. It has been my life’s pursuit off the mat and out of the shell. I have tried to witness the flow in my everyday life. I have attempted to act and proceed as a Quantum integer. So the works of David Bohm, Michael Talbot, are very important to me. As well, Sri Aurobindo and Plotinus have taken on a special meaning for me. The writings describe the connections between people and things. To actually see this we must operate in the present. So, it is an odyssey that is never ending or complete. In many ways it is a return to the land of wonder, to the land of being a child again.

The post Jim Joy versus the Rowing Stroke part 2 appeared first on Rowperfect UK.

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[sinceileftyoublog]

Bell Witch Interview: New Voices

BY JORDAN MAINZER

One of our favorite albums of the year was Seattle metal band Bell Witch’s Mirror Reaper, a moving, 80-minute, one-track metal opus centered around death. The album features two distinct halves called “As Above” and “So Below”, the first featuring previously recorded vocal takes from late founding member Adrian Guerra, who after separating from the band two years ago died of a heart attack last year. The other founding member, bassist Dylan Desmond, recruited Jesse Shriebman to replace the drums of Guerra; as before, they both sing, as does guest Erik Moggridge on the second half of the album. Bell Witch also introduced organs to their arsenal. “How do we create this new voice in what has been a bass and drum band?” Desmond hypothetically asked over the phone last month in reference to one of the many dilemmas the band faced during the recording of Mirror Reaper.

In general, for Bell Witch, the fluidity of voices is a major theme. The band was in the middle of a tour during our conversation, one in which they had been playing the first 48 minutes of Mirror Reaper up until the point the song flips, right where Guerra’s vocals stop and it becomes ambient before Moggridge enters. If they were to play the second half live sans Moggridge--alive and well and making music as Aerial Ruin--it would feel kind of empty and wrong. Playing the first half without Guerra--they have no choice--rightfully makes his absence loom as large as it has since he died.

The band does have plans to play all of Mirror Reaper with Moggridge at Roadburn 2018, and they’re planning a European tour from March to May around their festival appearance. Having just finished a West Coast tour, as you read this, they’re likely already thinking about their next record. For now, check out my interview with Desmond below, edited for length and clarity.

Since I Left You: Did you decide during the recording of Mirror Reaper that having the album be one track was necessary?

Dylan Desmond: Yes and no. The song kept coming together, and the structure started to get finalized. I suppose it became a little more obvious that “maybe this isn’t something we need to be breaking up.” This is one song built off of one simple riff and variations. As it became apparent to us, we thought, “Well, one long song is going to be kind of annoying to listen to in one regard, but in another regard, maybe it’s fitting to what the song is and what we’re going for.” We started leaning more towards that. You kind of listen with different ears at that point. Eventually, we thought, “We can’t break this up into tracks.”

I feel that even more so playing it every night. When we finish playing--we just play the first half of the song--I think, “I’m so glad we didn’t break this into tracks.” It would have been doing a huge disservice to it.

SILY: How was the album recorded?

DD: Basically, we went through it once with the hopes of putting the drum tracks down, and a usable bass. Then we went through and did the organ and vocals after that. The main goal was to get the drums solid and keep adding layers. I think that makes it kind of hard. Some bands go in and do all the tracks at once. It’s tough for us because while it works live, recording it, tapping on the bass doesn’t properly communicate to the microphone the highs and lows at the same time. I’ll go through and do the lows and the highs separately. It ends up being 30-40 bass tracks per song. 

Mixing took forever because it was such a large track. We were exceeding the bounds of Pro Tools as designed for one track. We had to keep stopping it. It kept overloading the computer. It was kind of annoying but kind of exciting. There were these error messages that Pro Tools kept shooting up. The engineer, Billy Anderson, would go, “I don’t know what this means.” So he would ask in a forum, and someone from Pro Tools chimed in and said, “That error message should never ever happen. It’s pushing past what Pro Tools is designed to handle.” [We were like] “Yes, that’s cool!”

SILY: What is it like working with Billy?

DD: He records really creatively. It’s almost like having another member of the band there. He never puts input into the playing style. But during the mixing process, he’s brilliant. He’s got the best set of ears I’ve ever seen in a person. He brings things out I don’t even notice. He can hear so many tracks simultaneously. I remember, I stayed at his house one time. He has a display of the records he’s done. There was a 7-inch from an old Seattle band, and [it was signed,] “Billy, You are alchemy.” That’s a good summation.

SILY: How did you balance your and Jesse’s different vocal styles?

DD: I guess the way that all came about was when Jesse started, it was after Adrian had left. He was playing and learning the vocal lines from the older songs. So he was trying to emulate and was on board with the style the band was doing already. That’s always been the case, where I’ll do the screams and he’ll do the growls.

SILY: To what extent in the back of your mind were you thinking about past notable one-track albums?

DD: We definitely discussed that. Dopesmoker gets the most attention. But I don’t think we were creatively referencing it. If anything, El mundo frio by Corrupted is what we’re more in line with stylistically, especially with the long passage in the middle that’s more of an ambient thing. I wouldn’t say we were trying to recreate anything in that regard. Our approach was more just to write a song as a Bell Witch song would be. The original approach was to write one song with several movements. As the movements whittled away, we were left with one big song. I don’t think we were trying to recreate or create something that hasn’t been done.

SILY: What’s the story behind the album art?

DD: We were searching for artists and had a couple in mind, but we were kind of just creatively shopping around, looking for who out there was doing really cool stuff. We came across [Mariusz Lewandowski] and thought, “This guy’s incredible. If he’s available and willing, we should do it.” We wrote him an email, and he wrote back that he had always wanted to do a record and had never done it before. He even listened to [previous record] Four Phantoms and said he was really into that. We kind of described what we were thinking based off of his style and the themes of the record, the “as above, so below” aspect. He came back with [the cover], and we were both floored.

SILY: Had you decided on the title at that point?

DD: No, at that point we were sticking to the “as above, so below” idea. I think the artwork was even a point of us thinking “as above, so below” is over-said and overused. One of the Erik Moggridge lyrics--“Mirror reaper / arrow of my eye”--was related to “as above, so below,” so we thought we would use that, and it fit with the cover.

SILY: What about the feature-length video Taylor [Bednarz] is doing? Is that set to the entire piece?

DD: Yeah, he’s still working on it. He’s past the half-way point. He’s working on archived footage from the 50′s and 60′s. It’s really cool. He’s trying to piece together stories to make a bigger one. We saw the videos he’s done. He has a really cool approach to things.

SILY: Adrian’s vocals on the album were from unused vocal takes from Four Phantoms. Were there any unused takes that didn’t make it onto Mirror Reaper?

DD: Nothing from Adrian. He had already died when we were doing that. We just dug back and were like, “Here are some takes that didn’t make the final recording.” We found some that could be lined up and fit. Having Billy Anderson be the guy who can do that was great. I think there are leftover vocal tracks from Mirror Reaper from Jesse and I’s recording. Maybe if I die, he can use that [laughs]. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.

SILY: Even before Adrian passed away and after he left the band, do you feel the fan base embraced Jesse as part of the band?

DD: Yeah, I think so. Jesse’s a pretty cool guy. He’s a lot of fun. Maybe a few friends might have been on the fence because they were personally close with Adrian. But it was a good fit, because Jesse and Adrian were friends as well. It wasn’t an outsourcing scenario. He was already in the family.

SILY: How do you guys feel about people constantly labeling you “funeral doom?”

DD: It doesn’t really come up in conversation. When Adrian and I were starting the band and sort of toying with the direction we would take, we would talk about bands we liked, and what aspects we liked, and what made those bands so special. Those conversations were centered around funeral doom and death metal, more or less. I think that Bell Witch’s style is set at this point. That’s not really a conversation that happens as much.

SILY: Is there anything cool you guys have been listening to in the tour van or on your own?

DD: We’ve been listening to a lot of Waylon Jennings. I’ve been listening to the new Ruins of Beverast album. We’ve been listening to a lot of Blut Aus Nord. A Scottish band called FVERNALS--they’re great. Those have been the things on heavy rotation the past few days.

[thnxforknowingme]

Time for another edition of Jenna Tries to Organize Her Glee Thoughts into a Coherent Essay!

Basically: Love the performance of Being Alive though I do, I've always had unresolved feelings/confusion about the song choice and Kurt's narrative arc, but Myle's analysis has helped me figure out exactly why this song at this moment is so powerful, even though it is 1) a song Carmen Tibideaux calls overused, and 2) ostensibly a song about wanting romantic love, at a time when Kurt is single and heartbroken and not currently seeking romance.

In the words of Ryan Bergara, let's get into it.

I always did feel like it was a plot hole or a weird choice for Kurt to sing Being Alive here, after Carmen explicitly listed that in the songs she sees too often in auditions in Choke, and then Kurt acknowledges that it's a "song Carmen hates" in Swan Song. But it wasn't until I read Myle's essay here that I realized the potential power and significance of this move - Carmen said that the reason Kurt wasn't accepted the first time was because he had too much style and not enough depth in his performance of Not the Boy Next Door. So in this case, Kurt is choosing a song that he knows she has preconceived notions about, that he knows she views as overdone or cliche, but he is going to sing it so damn well with so much emotional depth that she will still enjoy it. You think you've heard Being Alive too many times? Well you've never heard Kurt Hummel's version, so buckle the hell up.

I've also always had complicated feelings about this song, in this moment, because even though it is a moment that is so very much Kurt's - it's about his redemption in relation to NYADA, it's about him showing that emotional depth he's capable of, it's about him dedicating this song to himself, as Rachel suggests. And yet - it's sort of a love song. I've seen gifsets with the lyrics over shots of Kurt and Blaine together, because - yeah, it's not a challenge to make the lyrics fit their relationship. So that has always seemed to be this irreconcilable tension - that this is an important narrative moment for Kurt, yet the lyrics seem to be pointing to his reliance on or interest in someone else. But Myle's essay has helped me find another interpretation which makes so much sense and finally brings together all the messy pieces of this moment in Kurt's story.

Kurt's arc up to this point has very much been about becoming more comfortable in himself and learning that he is deserving of love - he, himself is, not anything that he pretends to be to please other people. But a lot of that growth has been directly tied to Blaine. Not all of it - obviously his S1 plot line with his sexuality and his willingness to stand up for himself was present pre-Blaine, but Blaine also fulfilled his desires to be loved - loved in a particular way that he sees his peers getting while he's constantly shut out ("Why can't I walk hand in hand down the hall with a person that I like?").

So through Blaine's attention and affection, Kurt learns to believe that he is worthy of that love. Blaine supports him, encourages him, makes him feel desirable and worthy (of course, with bumps along the way, as in all relationships).

Then he loses that source of love and support when he and Blaine break up. And it's not even that he just loses it, it's that Blaine betrays him in a way that makes him feel distinctly unlovable - Kurt must feel that he wasn't worth waiting for, he wasn't worth being faithful for, he was not enough so Blaine turned to someone else.

Now, for the first time in years, Kurt is on his own. And more than that, he's just spent a good chunk of the last year being routinely rejected and overlooked and told he's not good enough (West Side Story, student body president, NYADA). Through all those rejections he had Blaine's support and love, and that was part of the reason he was able to soldier on (after all, Blaine was the one who encouraged him to go to New York even without NYADA). So much of the strength he's drawn on to remember his own worth over the past year or so has been tangled up in the fact that Blaine loves him.

And now Blaine doesn't love him anymore.

(I mean, he does, we as viewers know he does, but that's how it feels for Kurt.)

So yeah, he feels terrible and worthless for a while, and he even tries to find solace in Blaine again in Glease, but that only highlights for him how much he's hurt by Blaine's actions. So now he has to find his own strength, and realize his own worth. Not because of external validation - not because of Blaine's love, or impressive accomplishments, or recognition from NYADA - but because he is Kurt Hummel, and he is inherently valuable and worthy of love and respect.

That's what Being Alive is saying. That's what Kurt means when he says "I'm going to perform a song that I've loved since I was six, but I think for the first time in my life I finally understand what it means." He's saying - I know the pain. I know how much it can hurt to feel used and to be heartbroken. And yet. I know I am still worth loving. I am myself, and that is enough, whether others recognize it or not. I've had someone hurt me too deep, ruin my sleep, put me through hell. But I'm still here. The world can love me again, and it can break me again, and I'll still be here, and I'll still be worthy. Carmen Tibideaux can reject me again, and I'll still be here. I can lose everything, and I'm still going to get through it. Mock me with praise. Let me be used. I'm Kurt goddamn Hummel and I'm not giving up.

Being Alive: a Lexicon of Kurt Hummel

In the ninth episode of the fourth season titled 'swan song', Kurt sings 'being alive', a song that not only fits his narrative in his episode, or even just this season but one that captures Kurt in a very unique way. That comes down to two elements, the song itself (background, lyrics, performance, significance) and how it ties to Kurt's plotlines.

Origin, Purpose in Conext, and Lyricism

In a brief, being alive is a song from the musical company, sung by the main character as declaration, of taking the chance, of allowing himself to love and be loved.

It's neither a lament nor celebration, it's an observation, but even more than that, it's wishful hoping and fearful longing as the character wonders about the meaning of love.

what starts as a cynical inquiry of love, listing the negativities with anger and bitterness, for Robert -the main character- love is to make oneself vulnerable, both to little annoyances like sitting in the wrong chair, but also to the potential for deep emotional wounds, and he seems to be wary of that.

Someone to hold you too close / Someone to hurt you too deep

Someone to sit in your chair / To ruin your sleep

Someone to need you too much / Someone to know you too well

Someone to pull you up short / To put you through hell

as the song progess, the lyrics shift

Someone you have to let in/ Someone whose feelings you spare

Someone who, like it or not / Will want you to share / A little, a lot

Someone to crowd you with love / Someone to force you to care

Someone to make you come through / Who'll always be there

As frightened as you of being alive

Being alive / Being alive / Being alive

then as the perspective changes, going from formal someone, almost ambiguous second point of view, to informal more intimate somebody first-person narration, thus resulting in a change from a conflicted introspection to a dare I say, wishful begging, one that's desperate as if there's shame in admitting that he yearns for something he criticized.

Somebody, hold me too close / Somebody, hurt me too deep

Somebody, sit in my chair / And ruin my sleep

And make me aware / Of being alive / Being alive

Somebody, need me too much / Somebody, know me too well

Somebody, pull me up short / And put me through hell

And give me support / For being alive

Make me alive / Make me alive / Make me confused

Mock me with praise / Let me be used / Vary my days

But alone is alone, not alive

Somebody, crowd me with love / Somebody, force me to care

Somebody, let me come through

I'll always be there / As frightened as you

To help us survive /Being alive

Being alive / Being alive

To sum it 'being alive' is about wanting, one that's fundamentally heartbreaking, acknowledging that love hurts, that it's messy, but still longing for just a single fraction that maybe it can be worth it.

The signifance of chosing this song

During Kurt's final NYADA audition (03x18 Choke), Carmen Tibideaux states her dislike for 'being alive' as an audition song as it is overused, while some might that this creates a plot-hole, after all, how come was Kurt rejected when going for the rarely-done-beautifully-performed-rightfully-praised "Not the Boy Next Door" he's rejected and when performing the cliche choice he's accepted? (it's me I've said that I'm some, but not the point)

Glee tries to justify that, making her state that Kurt lacks the complexity and depth, which while I see what they were going for, but the phrasing sort of falls flat.

This leads us to the heartwarming moment between Kurt and Rachel, which includes Kurt freaking out because he's so suddenly asked to perform and he's unprepared, lacking the props, which makes Rachel confess how Kurt's best songs are more emotional ones, adding that her favorite performance of his is 'I want to hold your hand' (ft. "who am i to suppose to dedicate this to" "to yourself").

What season 4 entails for Kurt

The song choice, therefore, is a nice fuck you to Madam Tibideaux, because he isn't singing to her, its a letter to himself, it's an act of defying her, also he sort of ends up outshining anyone whoever sang the song so bonus point for that.

S4 starts with Kurt, despite being rejected from NYADA, moving to New York, moving in with Rachel, getting a job at Vogue.com.

Then we have the first big event of the season that sort of ties directly to the first verse which is Blaine cheating on him and their eventual breakup. (04x04)

This intensifies the conflict in their relationship more than ever, with Kurt admitting that he just can't trust Blaine anymore (04x06), even later (04x08) insisting that while still affirming their friendship, by the end of the season it's implied that they'll get engaged (04x22).

Sadie Hawkins (04x11) introduces charming upperclassman Adam Crawford as Kurt's new love interest. Their relationship while short-lived is undeniably impactful. Kurt, fresh off a heartbreak getting to experience not only being persuaded but also having the agency make the first move by inviting Adam on a date.

The Performance; what love means to Kurt

Kurt preface the performance by saying "I've loved this song since I was 6, but I think for the first time in my life I understand what it means"

Up until the Break-up, I'd argue that Kurt had a very fairytale view on love and relationships, having his first boyfriend, someone he believed was the love of his life cheating shattered the rose-tinted glass.

I've previously established that the first verse is a mockery of love, Kurt sings it with raw pain, the voice of someone who is giving up on love, hopelessness would be the accurate word.

It's his most vulnerable performance, especially as the song continues, and as previously mentioned it switches to a pleading and so does Kurt's tone.

Then it starts to rise to a demanding tone at "make me confused, Mock me with grace", then as he sings "somebody crowds me with love" there's recognition because up to these lyrics, he's still doubtful, but at that moment there's an epiphany that he yearns for love, no matter how painful it could be.

To wrap it up in a ribbon, this song not only serves as a parallel to Kurt's relationships (not only romantic ones), how love is both good and bad, yet somehow it makes life better, it also sums Kurt's journey, how the beginning is pessimistic, full of hurt and pain, then it moves on to, still filled with misery but also happy, because his story is very nuanced, and how his resilience and not giving up no matter what are key factors.

@lennerdmichael @thelegendofjenna hope you like this <3

here's a playlist of my favorite versions of this song (and Aaron Trevit's version which isn't on Spotify)

this thoughtful article about "the meaning of being alive"

and this very interesting read "everybody sings being alive wrong"

[maneatingbadger]

Review - Wonder Woman (2017)

TL;DR: Wonder Woman is good. It has problems. See it, and discuss the problems. Also, airplanes. 

Wonder Woman (2017) is a good film. If you haven’t seen it yet, you should. (Trailer)

Wonder Woman is an important film. Women led and directed it. The character is a feminist icon and welcome change from ongoing male dominance of the superhero genre, at least on the big screen (can’t comment on comics). 

Wonder Woman is a long film. At just over 140 minutes runtime it never drags, but evening theatergoers may be shocked at the lateness of the hour when they exit, as I was last night. 

Now for some rambling thoughts (mild spoilers ahead). 

Wonder Woman is set in the waning days of World War I, a change from her Second World War origins that initially gave me pause. The mainstream moral authority of the Allies in WWII has its complexities, yet they pale in comparison to the more prominent clash of competitive imperialism a couple decades earlier. But Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot), aka Diana Prince, is a superhero. Her joining the Allies is a foregone conclusion, and my apprehensions were almost immediately justified (and remained so almost to the very end) when downed pilot Steve Trevor (Chris Pine) calls himself “a good guy” and points at the Germans on the beach as “the bad guys.” Then he explains how the Ottoman Empire is keeping the Kaiser supplied with munitions, so now the faceless, menacing Turks join the evil German monolith. WWII at least had Nazis to punch, but you can’t read All Quiet on the Western Front and come away feeling the German Army in WWI was total evil. 

Then again, maybe you can. Rows of women sitting behind me fucking applauded and cheered as Diana cut swaths through German infantrymen. Never mind that some of them were undoubtedly conscripts, never mind that a German soldier was as patriotic as a Brit or Frenchman, never mind that war is hell and both sides learned that quickly. I can’t believe I’m praising this aspect of Captain America: The First Avenger, but at least Red Skull’s Hydra soldiers were basically Star Wars Stormtroopers circa Original Trilogy: totally made up and combat ineffective. It didn’t matter how many Hydras Steve Rogers and his Brooklyn Boy Band killed, because they were Bad Guys™ and also usually faceless behind masks. But they chose to set Wonder Woman in the actual fighting of WWI, not Marvel’s faux war within (and beyond) a war, and wanton slaughter is rarely a point of satisfaction in the far-from-perfect Hollywood war genre. I certainly never cheered as Tom Hanks’s unit outflanked and suppressed German bunkers in Saving Private Ryan, or when Japanese defenders repeatedly ambushed Marines in Letters from Iwo Jima. Yet we’re supposed to feel inspired by Wonder Woman singlehandedly disposing of fifty poor German boys because she looks good doing it?

Of relevance: The PG-13 rating (and associated lack of gore and violence you might expect from a dedicated WWI period piece) may contribute to some viewers’ lack of empathy for the wounded or dead. I’m not saying Wonder Woman should have been an R-rated war flick, because 1) that’s not what it was ever going to be, and 2) the audience most urgently needing this movie is young girls, so the more accessible the better. But the end result is still a fairly tame view of Western Front conditions. And the lack of blood from Diana cutting her way through German squads with a sword is desensitizing and immersion-breaking. 

Also of relevance: Diana at one point accuses a Scottish sniper (Ewen Bremner)—and more general practitioners of fighting from a distance, e.g., artillery—of fighting without honor because they do not necessarily see those they kill (or, in the case of generals and other REMFs, those they send off to die). There’s a lot to unpack here. The Amazons are a warrior society that worships leading from the front. An obvious drawback to that is when General Antiope dies on the beach: The Amazons lose their top commander (among others) in a skirmish to a small bunch of German sailors. Considering the qualitative and quantitative differences, that is not a favorable exchange ratio. Beyond that, snipers (like drone pilots) arguably see their targets in a much more intimate fashion than any other soldier does, thanks to their scopes (or camera turrets) and the long periods of observation that can precede pulling the trigger. We’ll cut Diana some slack because the Amazons have no concept of ranged warfare beyond the bow, but the notion of “honor” is also complicated. Michael Moore and others have voiced their hatred for snipers as cowards, as if war is a gentleman’s duel. Ethics in war usually applies to noncombatants and enemies who surrender: Those, in other words, who aren’t fighting you, are vulnerable, and have been found throughout history to merit protection. Killing them is cowardly, a point Diana also makes, but killing enemy combatants isn’t. If it were, what “honor” exists in racking up body counts against foes that cannot physically harm you? A sniper hides, a demigod is, well, a demigod, both are practically immune from preventative counters or immediate retaliation. Whither honor, Diana?

Diana’s concern for civilians hit by indiscriminate weapons like artillery and gas is curious in light of Gadot’s compulsory service in the IDF and support for Israel’s bloody 2014 Gaza campaign. This deserves more attention than I or anyone will give it, and I apologize for a level of compassion fatigue those in Gaza, Jordan, and the West Bank surely recognize all too well. Fans are forced to choose between a white feminist cinematic triumph and a marginalized and oppressed community (that this is a conundrum itself speaks volumes), no one wants to tackle Israel-Palestine on top of misogyny, and those sympathetic to Palestinians are losing the PR fight. It shouldn’t be a binary solution set: I gladly join the chorus hailing the film as an important cultural touchstone, and I embrace criticizing Gadot for her support of apartheid, occupation, and, ironically, civilian casualties, especially as she somehow manages not to choke on lines like “I’m willing to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves” or “only love can truly save the world.” Again, when Israeli fighters bomb hospitals, whither honor?

The above point also touches on larger intersectionality concerns that I’ll let other takes explain. 

Captain America aside: Like The First Avenger, Wonder Woman is an origin story about a gorgeous, invincible hero fighting the Germans for the Americans in Europe that ends on a multi-engined doomsday-device-carrying German bomber—hijacked on a suicide mission to save the day by a guy named Steve!

Back to WWI: I was fully prepared to write this movie off as “The Western Allies are good, the Central Powers and Turks are evil, and justice wins in the end.”  But Trevor neatly resolved my qualms in a short monologue while trying to convince a disillusioned Diana to keep helping him. Can’t find it online yet, but it goes something like “Maybe we’re all at fault! Maybe none of us deserve saving!” Diana gradually realizes that humans don’t need the malign influence of Ares, the Greek God of War and primary antagonist, to keep fighting and killing each other, that WWI was never divisible into “good” and “bad guys,” and this is after Chief (Eugene Brave Rock) the Blackfoot character’s almost throwaway line that Trevor’s people drove his off their land “in the last war.” Before those moments, Wonder Woman’s WWI setting was terrible; after them, it was at worst imperfect, a hit-and-miss attempt to address violence as a human phenomenon waged by problematic protagonists. I wish they’d addressed that earlier and more inclusively (the Germans and Turks still resonate as one-dimensional “bad guys”), but I’m impressed at how centrally and effectively that message played out in the end. 

The WWI setting brings us to the level of realism, continuity, and historical accuracy, oft-losing propositions for Hollywood in general at the best of times that tend to fare even worse in the superhero genre. To this day I will not forgive Marvel for its patently ridiculous modern-day helicarriers. But Wonder Woman misses the mark by less than I feared. Here’s what I was able to catch in one viewing: 

The Fokker Eindecker that Trevor flies to escape from Ottoman Turkey was the first operational fighter with a gun synchronized to shoot through the spinning propeller, allowing fixed guns on the centerline for improved accuracy. 

Eindeckers were deployed in the Middle East between 1916 and 1917, though they were mostly replaced by Fokker D.7’s when Wonder Woman rolls around a year a later. Still, props (get it?) to the movie for spotlighting a lesser film star and not the cinematically overused Camels and triplanes.

Note that Trevor escaped from Turkey in a light aircraft with a top speed of 76 knots and endurance under two hours. Even assuming a generous range of 200 miles from the Turkish coast, he can only splash down in the Black Sea or eastern Mediterranean, a rough clue to the location of the edge of Themyscira’s shield barrier. Then he and Diana take a small single-masted sailing vessel from there to London, a voyage of nearly 3,000 miles depending on where he crashed. 

The internet speculates that Themyscira may not exist on our temporal or spatial plane and therefore lacks a permanent location. This 1) could mean the island was closer to the UK when the two set out by boat, and 2) accounts for the island’s obscurity in a heavily trafficked area until Trevor’s fighter and the pursuing German warship blundered into it. Still, you’d think Zeus could have done better than a shield blocking only visible light.

Speaking of that warship, the ensuing beach battle has holes. The novelization disposes of the Kriegsmarine surface combatant on a coral reef, and I do recall wondering why the ship seems to roll and rise at an angle in the background at one point, but this was only a few frames and barely registered on my fellow viewers. Then its rowboats hit the beach in a horrifying demonstration of what happens when technological superiority is overwhelmed by the numerical variety. Passages came to mind from The Gun by CJ Chivers about the use of rapid-fire Maxim and Gatling guns against native tribes in European colonies, specifically the change in outcome when those guns jammed and a handful of soldiers confronted tribal human waves with muskets, bayonets, and bare hands. Similarly, the German riflemen open fire to deadly effect, but the Amazons overwhelm their rate of fire with a frontal cavalry charge. It doesn’t hurt that the Amazons are Made in Olympus, pursue a ridiculous fitness and training regimen, and fight like badasses. 

But they don’t confront Trevor until after the Germans are slain, though he wears a German disguise and grabs a rifle from a sailor in the melee. He is an armed male intruder, and only Diana recognizes his actions as friendly, yet he isn’t killed in the confusion or even threatened at sword- or bow-point afterward.

Speaking of swords, bows, and horses, the Amazon way of war could be much more effective if they emerged a century or even half a century earlier, in the heyday of post-Napoleonic fighting. Queen Hippolyta’s claim that they have nothing to fear while hiding in paradise already failed as an argument to shelter Diana from training; unexamined is what that level of sheltering applied to Amazon society as a whole portends if and when Themyscira finds itself exposed to an ever-advancing outside world. If Diana had come out a quarter century later, she would have confronted heavier and more destructive weapons probably beyond the protective envelope of her shield (unless it’s vibranium, though Wikipedia says an indestructible goat hide, which I like even more) and wrist/ankle bracelets. Her run through No Man’s Land was remarkably devoid of shrapnel, explosives, and weapons fire despite the whole trench line of German regulars shooting at an upright target, and she was stopped cold by machine-gun nests: Imagine 88mm shells from a line of King Tigers or 500lb bombs from diving Stukas. 

She may be a rapid-healing demigod immune to poison gas, but we also see her bleed and block bullets rather than take them. Modern weaponry can hurt and even kill her. And I haven’t even mentioned nukes.

Back to rivet counting: I can’t find any good images yet of the large German bomber from the climactic scene, but it appears to be a fictional version of the so-called Riesenflugzeug or “giant aircraft” bombers produced by Zeppelin-Staaken. 

Like the historical Zeppelin-Staaken R.VI, the movie version appears to have four engines (one Giant was even fitted with a fifth in the nose), but the movie plane has them arranged in four separate forward-facing engine nacelles. The R.VI by contrast had twin-engine pairs with one “pusher” and one “puller” propeller each. I’ll probably also come back to this once that scene is posted online.

The tank whose tracks are used to restrain Wonder Woman at the climax seemed to have the rhomboid shape of a British heavy tank, though the setting is a German-held airfield. 

The Germans captured a number of British heavy tanks of various marks and genders, so perhaps this is a pre-owned model. Again, I’ll be better able to confirm that once the scene is uploaded.

Poison gas is the movie’s most salient and best-realized WWI characteristic.

That about does it for first-runthrough nitpicking (IMDB has more on wristwatches and trouser zippers).

Oh, Rupert Gregson-Williams’s soundtrack is typical superhero fare that didn’t leave much of an impression, but the end credits piece before Sia’s single sounded awful familiar. I later thought I heard elements of Jeremy Soule’s Supreme Commander and Forged Alliance, Ramin Djawadi’s Pacific Rim, and Tom Holkenborg’s Mad Max: Fury Road OSTs, but maybe that’s just me. 

[wendyimmiller]

Porch Postulating on 45 Years in One Garden

High on a Hill in Utica, Indiana

We welcome back one-time Garden Rant partner Bob Hill, who has stayed in one beautiful place for a long time.

A few very random thoughts while sitting in a screened-in back porch in Utica Indiana in early April of 2020 while mulling over 45 years of home gardening, the memories, connections and friendships born of all that – if not the meaning of life.

Phlox subulata beyond the garden gate.

This may be the much needed and finest spring in all those years, a rain-blessed chronological PowerPoint of purple hellebores, fragrant witchhazel, pink flowering almond, magnificent magnolias, the shy, blushing ‘Pauline Lily’ redbud, screaming yellow Kerria, butter-yellow Weigela, deep red crabapples and simple white daffodils with yellow centers. The latter well predates our four decades in this place in a 160-year-old farmhouse. I can’t look at them without thinking and wondering about those who planted them.

Kerria japonica

Carl Sandburg – a Midwestern Dude who first left school at age 13 to drive a milk wagon in Galesburg Illinois – came up with a pretty nice poem about the misty undefined side of life:

The fog comes

on little cat feet

It sits looking

over harbor and city

on silent haunches

and then moves on

I get the same feeling sitting on the back porch watching green spring slowly creeping in on trees and shrubs from ground up. You can see it, almost feel it. On the warm days you can experience the changes from morning to night. There’s no one good word for that. “Hue” doesn’t get it. “Subtle” is overused. In spring the green comes on little …what?

I gave GOOGLE a shot at it and its explanation involved “diffuse-porous wood anatomy” and the “relation of foliar phenology to xylem embolism.”

Let’s move on.

Can there ever be enough Virginia bluebells?

If had to pick one flower that brings home spring to me it is the Virginia bluebell. We have one huge patch across the drive now being assaulted by bright yellow wood poppies creating a bicameral carpet of color in our fern garden, itself crossed by an old wooden bridge.

I love everything about the bluebells, their happy morphing into pink, the joy of speaking their Latin name…Mertensia virginica.  I am so smitten by them that last year I ordered 100 more and have added clumps in every fertile, shaded nook and cranny on our place. Maybe future owners will wonder about who planted them.

Magnolia ‘Daybreak’

Our back porch offers a visual parade of magnolia trees staging a shameless beauty contest. The problem is those Butterflies, Elizabeth and Marilyn cultivars planted about 25 years ago are now so tall I can only see their flowers through the tops of other trees. This is because I pruned up those magnolias way too high to allow passage under them while planting other ornamental trees now also grown too tall.

That’s because when you first begin gardening with two acres of wide-open pasture and an insane desire to plant one of every bush, shrub and tree known to God it’s just hard to see where all that might lead. Most of those plants were six foot or less. Besides those wonderful yellow Butterfly magnolia blooms do look good pinned way up there against a blue April sky. And nobody gets a 45-year do-over.

  A single purple iris is blooming just outside our back-porch door, one of a now overgrown clump that badly needs dividing. So show me an iris patch that doesn’t need dividing. The iris was a gift from my wife’s Aunt Helen, who gave us a pickup load of flowers when we moved onto our mostly barren eight acres 45 years ago.

Aunt Helen, who grew up on a southern Indiana farm, was old school practical, caring, a fine seamstress and no-nonsense tidy. She could also grow roses in a milk bucket. She just had the knack, her yard covered with mostly common but very healthy plants she handed out to others with pride.

Everyone’s favorite Aunt Helen story was of the time she was having what were thought to be serious health problems. An ambulance was called, but Aunt Helen wouldn’t get in it until after she finished doing the breakfast dishes. Every gardener needs a patch of Aunt Helen iris of some sort.

Speaking of memories, a splash of yellow, pink and red tulips, is now opening not far from the porch and Aunt Helen’s iris. The tulips were purchased at the famed Keukenhof Tulip Gardens in the Netherlands on a visit there a few years ago. Something like seven million tulips were on display in fields, rows and vivid living art beyond words. Those seven million tulips are replanted every year. The show was shut down this year due to the coronavirus pandemic. Seven. Million. Tulips. Fields of Silence. No spectators. No awe-struck patrons. Sad.

‘Double Take Scarlet’ quince

For damn near egotistical, in-your-face red color, the Double Take Scarlet quince hanging out with the green boxwoods owns our neighborhood. As is often the case, with we who overplant, this cultivar got lost in semi-shade between some aged deciduous hollies and a clematis taking ownership of a big 1860s trellis.

The quince made some visual noise last year. This year it went absolutely hey-look-at-me bonkers; the red growing ever deeper as the sun disappears over the barn. I can sit on the porch and watch it disappear, then damn near hear it hollering for attention in the gathering darkness.

Close to it – although not exactly a soul mate – is the redbud ‘Pauline Lily.’ Truth be told, if Pauline defined all redbuds people would stick to dogwoods. First found in the mountains of West Virginia, and named for the wife of its discoverer, Colin Lily, its flowers are pale pink to white. I like the feature. That neighborhood needs to calm down a little.

Off to my right is perennial porch-watching favorite, the three-flowered maple or Acer triflorum if you must. I like it because it’s got a nice shape, exfoliating bark, great fall color and it’s never in a hurry to do any of it.

I’m getting that same feeling myself.

Former Louisville Courier-Journal columnist Bob Hill wrote more than 4,000 columns and feature stories, about ten books and several angry letters to bill collectors in his 33 years at the paper. He and his wife, Janet, are former guides and caretakers of Hidden Hill Nursery and Garden in Utica, IN., a home-made, eight-acre arboretum, art mecca and source of enormous fun, whimsy, rare plants and peace for all who showed up. Bob’s academic honors include being the tallest kid in his class 12 years in a row. 

Porch Postulating on 45 Years in One Garden originally appeared on GardenRant on April 8, 2020.

The post Porch Postulating on 45 Years in One Garden appeared first on GardenRant.

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[emmagreen1220-blog]

New Post has been published on Literary Techniques

New Post has been published on https://literarytechniques.org/list-of-rhetorical-devices-and-examples/

List of Rhetorical Devices and Examples

What Are Rhetorical Devices?

Rhetorical devices, also known as persuasive devices or stylistic devices, are techniques that authors or speakers can use to convey meaning with the purpose of persuading. They can also be used to evoke emotion on the part of the reader or audience.

Some types of rhetorical devices can also be considered figurative language because they depend on a non-literal usage of certain words or phrases.

Top 10 Rhetorical Devices

1. Hyperbole

Hyperbole is a figure of speech that contains a bold overstatement or an exaggeration to give emphasis or focus to that part of the statement. It is the most overused rhetorical form, utilized in everyday speech, in writing, and in any form of discourse.

For example, if one says, “There are more reasons for you to enroll in university than there are stars in the sky,” that person is trying to persuade the listener that university is extremely important.

2. Understatement

Understatement is the opposite of hyperbole, deliberately expressing an idea as less important than it actually is, either for ironic emphasis or for politeness and tact.

For example, instead of describing in a few words the horrors and destruction of Hurricane Katrina, a writer might state:

“Hurricane Katrina somewhat interrupted business in the downtown area.”

3. Litotes

Litotes is a particular type of understatement, consisting in the assertion of an affirmative by negating its contrary.

For example, one might say, “He’s not the brightest man in the world” to mean, “He is stupid.”

4. Antithesis

Antithesis is a rhetorical contrast between opposing, often successive, ideas. Usually, the negative presentation of its opposite makes the principal idea more striking.

Example: “To err is human; to forgive, divine.” – Alexander Pope

5. Hypophora

Hypophora is the rhetorical technique of raising one or more questions and then proceeding to answer them.

For example, in Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Falstaff uses hypophora by asking and answering a series of questions:

“What is honour? A word. What is that word honour? Air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? He that died o’ Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth be bear it? No. ‘Tis insensible then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it.”

6. Rhetorical Question

A rhetorical question is basically a question not expecting an answer, or one whose answer is self-evident.

For example, Shelley’s poem “Ode to the West Wind” ends with a famous rhetorical question:

“O, Wind,

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?”

In this case, the answer is contained within the rhetorical question: If winter comes, spring cannot be far behind.

7. Procatalepsis

Procatalepsis is similar to hypophora, but instead of questions, it deals with objections. Procatalepsis usually shows the audience that the author has already taken into account their possible objections and addressed them directly. It is very useful in argumentative essays.

In the essay “Politics and the English Language,” George Orwell writes,

“I said earlier that the decadence of our language is probably curable. Those who deny this would argue, …, that language merely reflects existing social conditions, and that we cannot influence its development by any direct tinkering with words and constructions. So far as the general tone or spirit of a language goes, this may be true, but it is not true in detail.”

Orwell anticipates the objection of the audience and offers a rebuttal.

8. Distinctio

Distinctio is a rhetorical device by which a writer elaborates on the meaning, or various meanings, of a word in order to avoid leaving anything unclarified, and therefore preventing confusion.

For example, a woman having her house painted might make use of distinctio while giving directions to the painter: “I want it blue, and by blue, I do not mean turquoise, or azure, or even royal blue; I mean sky blue, like the cloudless sky on a summer’s day.”

9. Simile

The simile is a figure of speech in which one thing is likened to another in order to clarify and enhance an image. It is an explicit comparison recognizable by the use of the words “like” or “as.”

Robert Burns, in the first stanza of the poem “A Red, Red Rose,” likens love to a flower and to a song:

“O my Luve’s like a red, red rose,

That’s newly sprung in June:

O my Luve’s like the melodie,

That’s sweetly play’d in tune.”

10. Metaphor

Metaphor is a figure of speech by which one thing is described in terms of another. Very frequently, the metaphor makes use of the verb “to be.”

For example, Joshua Reynolds, in a discourse delivered to the students of the Royal Academy, says,

“The mind is but a barren soil; is a soil soon exhausted, and will produce no crop, or only one, unless it be continually fertilized and enriched with foreign matter.”

This sentence contains three metaphors: mind—soil, intellectual/practical output­—crop, and knowledge/information—foreign matter that fertilizes and enriches.

Other Rhetorical Devices

Alliteration

Allusion

Amplification

Anacoluthon

Anadiplosis

Analogy

Anaphora

Anastrophe

Antanagoge

Antimetabole

Antiphrasis

Apophasis

Aporia

Aposiopesis

Apostrophe

Appositive

Assonance

Asyndeton

Catachresis

Chiasmus

Climax

Conduplicatio

Diacope

Dirimens Copulatio

Enthymeme

Enumeratio

Epanalepsis

Epistrophe

Epithet

Epizeuxis

Eponym

Exemplum

Hyperbaton

Hypotaxis

Irony

Metabasis

Metanoia

Metonymy

Onomatopoeia

Oxymoron

Parallelism

Parataxis

Parenthesis

Personification

Pleonasm

Polysyndeton

Scesis Onomaton

Sententia

Sentential Adverb

Syllepsis

Symploce

Synchysis

Synecdoche

Syntheton

Tricolon

Zeugma

[canvaswolfdoll]

CanvasReads: Spice & Wolf

I so rarely do books.

Well, guess I did the entire Harry Potter series recently.

Point is, I’m not a voracious reader. I read, sure, but at a leisurely pace, reading bits and pieces before bed. It usually takes me about a month or more to get through a book because life gets busy, I have many interests, and it’s hard to multitask while reading.[1] Books also tend to be such a time commitment for me that I have really high standards.

What this means is it took me about seven years to crawl through the Spice & Wolf light novel series. Why did I do this? Well, I read almost the entirety of the Discworld series,[2] and I liked the anime, so might as well.

So I spent a few years alternating in and out of the series with abandon. It never really grabbed me fully at any point, but it served as a decent “Ugh, need a new book. Might as well” series. Now that I’ve read the initial 17 volumes, the time has come to ask “Do I read the Spring Logs and Wolf & Parchment, or is it time to let go?”

Great question, myself. You brillant, handsome bearded man you.

A big criticism you should know going in is that the actual writing is… not great on a technical level.

I don’t know if this is the case with the original Japanese text (which may have a different set of writing rules than the West) or the translation (because translation gets more difficult with more text) or a mixture, but the writing in the books is boring and sometimes confusing.

A big stumbling block is the lack of clear dialogue tags. When Lawrence and Holo start conversing, it’s easy to lose track of who says what because often lines of dialogue get entire paragraphs to themselves, then there’s a line of action, then a line of dialogue that’s unattributed. And, unlike in the Dub of the Spice & Wolf anime, Holo’s antiquated style of speech is not played up nearly as much, and there isn’t as much difference in word usage to distinguish between our leads.

Then they pick up some random kid named Col in volume 6, and suddenly it’s that’s much harder to track.

To be fair, writing unique voices can be very, very difficult, and I’m not even sure I could claim to have mastered it, since I’m too close to my own works to judge fairly.

The issue compounds with the books’ tendency to tell over showing (such as Holo’s much lauded wisdom, despite spending most of the series sitting about stubbornly waiting for Lawrence to solve the issue, before jumping in saying she knew so all along!) and also leaving a lot of details vaguely implied (such as the status of Lawrence and Holo’s relationship at any given time).

Leaving things unexplained and for the audience to figure out is fine, as long as the writer either explains themselves eventually (giving the solution to a mystery plot) or doesn’t require deciphering the meaning to understand the plot (as is the case with most secondary romance plots).

Spice & Wolf however seems to have a tendency to just assume the reader’s following in lock step with its various implication and winks, then proceeds forward without clarity. Which is pretty frustrating when half the book is about Medieval Economics and key concepts only get a very meager explanation.

Again, I don’t know if this because the original Japanese text was vague in parts, or if the translation did a poor job of elaborating on meaning and subtext that may have been inherent to the Japanese.

Then there’s the overuse of passive voice, which I know I can blame of the translator.

The passive voice is a technique that can help you reach your goal, provided that your goal is to have your writing be deprived of excitement and motion. It’s a sentence written in such a way where nouns have verbs occur to them rather than nouns performing verbs.  Basically, if the sentence sounds like an exaggerated police report, it’s probably written in a passive voice. It deprives the characters of ownership.

It took me several books to actually catch on that passive voice was to blame for how unexciting it felt to read.

But enough with my uncharacteristic dive into actual literary form and function! What about the actual story?

It was serviceable. On the whole, the anime adaption was a better experience, since that included a level of visual excitement that riding around in Lawrence’s head doesn’t afford. The actual economic hijinks had the potential to be interesting, but could be hard to follow without visual aids.

The anime adapted Books One through Three, skipped Four, and then adapted the fifth book. Besides some brief world details and a few changes, the anime did a good job of covering the stories.

The fourth volume, however, is probably my favorite story, since it did a good job of utilizing its low fantasy setting, working the medieval economics and socio-political environment into a plot, and actually acting upon Holo’s vaguely defined capabilities (it’s the only time she does anything related to being a harvest goddess).

In fact, unlike in the anime, the biggest drain on the narrative is Kraft Lawrence. In the anime, Lawrence is an everyman with a level of charm and knowledge, while book Lawrence is overly plain and becomes increasingly passive as the books go on. He takes risks less readily, and is just boring.

The extended cast is filled with interesting characters and hidden histories, all of who could carry a story of their own, and our protagonist is a guy moseying along, vaguely wants to own a store, but doesn’t actually pursue the goal with any vigor.

Even Holo, a literal deity trying to find her homeland from centuries ago, is slow to action.

Often throughout the series both will reflect melancholically on how they can’t journey together forever, and they’re both acutely aware of their growing affections, but they never commit to any certain course of action. For a dozen plus volumes, they go vaguely north, sometimes arguing, but such conflicts spawn from Holo being a ‘Mysterious Woman’.

Holo’s been around for ages, and is actually living through a period of decline for her ilk (pagan gods), but she never talks about it, and the narrative never explores it. There is fertile ground in Holo’s being, but nothing grows.

The protagonists are complacent, and the excitement usually comes from a third party. A miller and his priest girlfriend feeling alienated from their community. A Sheep god turned shepherd. A merchant guild attempting to build a town without the backing of noble blood, but with economic bedrock.

All along, Lawrence is wobbling back and forth asking if he should do something about anything.

Then he plays a relatively minor role in the resolutions, and rides on.

Even the introduction of Col to the merchant’s wagon doesn’t really add anything. He’s just kind of there, sometimes making dialogue a little more confusing.

The best stories are the short ones where neither Lawrence nor Holo appear, but instead develop the backstories of those they encounter.

There’s a story in one of the Side Colors volumes that actually shows how Eve became the ruthless merchant we meet in Volume 5. It’s pretty cool.

Then, when she appears in a later story (after Lawrence and Holo somehow manage to backpedal into going south), Lawrence treats the woman who conned and stabbed him with relative indifference.

There’s also two stories following Norah (the shepherd girl from Volume 2) told in first person perspective of her dog Enek.

They’re charming and I really want to steal the conceit for myself at some point.

The strengths of the anime and the books themselves are an interesting dichotomy. The anime finds strength in its characters and the relationship of the leads, with some economic lectures mixed in. The books, meanwhile, really thrive with the world it builds. With some economic lessons built in.

The nameless world of Spice & Wolf is clearly in the middle of change. The power of a monotheistic church is on the rise, pagan gods are diminishing and either disappearing or finding new jobs,[3] and there’s even a subtle shift in how economies function and hints of the inevitable rise of paper money.

Times are a changing, but it’s on the edges of the story, never full addressed but still lending a weight to the proceedings.

It’s a good setting, and would make good inspirations for a RPG setting. There’s something exciting about the concept of gods who’ve already lost a culture war they didn’t know was occuring. They’re living relics hiding in the fringes of society, even those trying to maintain some power in the new world order finding the earth shifting out from beneath of their feet at inopportune moments.

In short, I found the books inspiring if not particularly good. There’s plenty of ideas I would love to steal and run with, whether in my own fictions or collaborative works.[4]

As for if I’ll be reading the continuation… I might as well, I suppose. The stronger volumes are the vignette collections, which Spring Log promises to be, and I am rather fond of next generation stories, so seeing how Lawrence and Holo’s offspring turns out is a inviting concept.

However, she’s being teamed up with Col, who was a weakly written character in this original run of stories, and I’ve often talked of my dislike of large age differences in romantic pairings, so if Wolf & Parchment heads in that direction, I’ll probably jump ship in short order.

Well, this has been a rambling… review, I guess? New job had me out of sorts for a while, so I apologize if my writing’s ended up below my usual standards. I’ll try to shape back up.

If you wish to support me, considering checking out my other works, send me comments or questions, or even giving a few dollars to my patreon. Money brings me closer to my dream of… not having to be on the frontline against the general public.

Gall, do I hate customer service…

Kataal kataal.

[1] Audiobooks are expensive, and I have podcasts to listen to besides. [2] Still have to find and read Science of Discworld. Been reluctant because, well, science is the one subject that neither interests me nor am I good at. [3] An interesting parallel to the Discworld, especially Small Gods and Hogfather. Also Thief of Time I suppose… [4] Ryuutama, in particular, seems like a good fit for adapting Spice & Wolf plots for the table.