#and a great display of his dedication to his cause instead of the actual concerning self harm that it is or the display of its okay to need

[martyrbat]

[ID: the uncoloured drawing for page 4 of the comic Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #192 next to the publicized page. In them, Alfred is in a room in the Wayne Manor and is drawing back the curtains to let in the sunlight. The narration reads, ‘In the morning, it's like nothing happened,’ despite Bruce almost bleeding out from a rough patrol last night. Bruce from off panel comments, “Ah, much better with the extra light. Thank you, Alfred.” Alfred looks over and dryly replies, “You know, anyone else would be doing pretty well just to be awake”

Bruce is shown to be in an electric hospital bed and has his head wrapped in bloodstained bandages, where little tufts of black hair stick out from it. He has a neck brace on and his arm is wrapped. There's a large bandage placed on his lower face, where his stubble is also overgrown due to neglecting his personal grooming in favour of focusing on Batman related duties. The revealed room is shown to be cluttered with several large, medical machines and carts full of medical supplies — which includes sponges, oxygen tanks and masks, pain relievers, syringes, bandages, and (inexplicably) a baster. Bruce sits up in bed and is chewing at the end of a pen as he looks down at a notepad and several papers that's on an overbed table.

Alfred brings him breakfast on a tray as he remarks, “I step out for twenty minutes and you're not only awake, you're already scribbling notes. Might I impose on you to set those aside long enough for some food, if not some actual rest?” Bruce instead asks where's the coffee, to which Alfred responds, “Actually, Sir, I think the last thing your overtaxed system needs right now is more stimulant.” Bruce challenges him, “‘Overtaxed’? Is that your professional opinion?” Alfred wryly replies, “As the one who found you riddled with holes last night, I can only speculate as to their cause. However... having discounted the possibility of suicidal intention, or gross incompetence, on your part...” Bruce immediately accuses, “You think I'm trying to do more than I can actually manage.” His butler calmly justifies, “Unless you've developed some new ability that you are hiding from me, I suspect you cannot be everywhere at once.”

In the original line art, there's two plushies (a round bunny and a bat) drawn amongst all the medical supplies. Sadly, it wasn't included in the publicized version. The third photo is a description of the drawing from the artist's (Seth Fisher) website. It reads: This is one of the delightful pages in which Seth put some amusements for himself which were censored and excised by the editors, in order to retain Batman's image as a serious superhero. In this page both the bunny and the bat in the lower right frame failed to make the final cut.]

[bestworstcase]

a comprehensive guide to zhan tiri’s lore or, it’s not that confusing or contradictory, i promise

first things first: if you are somebody who pays attention to creator interviews and you are interested in canonical zhan tiri lore, i want you to gather up everything you’ve ever heard chris say about zhan tiri and erase it from of your brain. i know he’s made statements regarding his interpretation of her backstory but this post was made by death of the author gang and we are interested ONLY in what is stated and shown in the text itself. meaning belongs to the viewers, and creator interpretation is irrelevant. 

ready? let’s go!

who or what is zhan tiri?

zhan tiri’s first appearance in coronan history occurred thousands of years ago; in plus est en vous, rapunzel specifies two thousand, but every other mention of zhan tiri as a historical figure is “eons” or “millennia,” and the most objective source we have—the plus est flashback—is marked “thousands of years ago.”  

there is no direct evidence to suggest that she existed prior to this, but i think there is enough circumstantial support for this theory to conclude that she did: namely, the existence of idols and other religious iconography associated with her name. my reasoning here is as follows: 

the plus est en vous flashback shows demanitus banishing zhan tiri to the lost realm. this makes it—give or take a few years—the last point in time when zhan tiri would have been free and thus able to make any lasting cultural impact.

it follows that any relevant historical artifacts we see must predate the plus est flashback, as they represent a time when zhan tiri had a significant enough cultural impact to fuel their creation.

moreover, though sugracha and tromus are the only disciples of zhan tiri who directly appear in the series, it is implied that there are many more: 

Lord Demanitus was in a constant battle with Zhan Tiri and his brethren. Over the years, Demanitus captured many of the evil spirits and held them prisoner in that chamber. (S1, Painter’s Block)

much of the coronan folklore concerning the demanitus-zhan tiri relationship is... wrong, but due to sugracha’s verifiable imprisonment in the demanitus chamber, i feel it reasonable to conclude that this tidbit is correct in that there are, or at least were, other disciples held inside the demanitus chamber. and, as with the historical artifacts associated with zhan tiri, it is logical to conclude that whatever cult produced these disciples predated the plus est flashback. 

so, we’ve established the historical artifacts and iconography associated with zhan tiri came before the plus est flashback, but what exactly does that entail, and what does it tell us about zhan tiri’s true nature?

icons of zhan tiri: an overview

#1: janus point

janus point is a henge, and based on the iconography—the ram’s head symbol is plastered all over the jardinière and the henge pillars—it appears to be a site dedicated specifically to zhan tiri. the same symbol also appears on the seal in which sugracha’s spirit was trapped inside the demanitus chamber and is unique in that the muzzle appears to corkscrew.

the appearance of the henge evokes a quasi-religious flavor, and in who’s afraid of the big bad wolf, rapunzel refers to the site as a “mystical ground.” at the very least, this is a ritual site that was heavily associated with zhan tiri, and it would not be much of a stretch to conclude she was outright worshipped here.

#2: the spire idol

this artifact appears in both the keeper of the spire and race to the spire. it’s a small stone idol kept in the spire’s... gatehouse, for lack of a better term, and it depicts the basic ram-headed hulking demon zhan tiri. nothing is said about it in either episode. 

#3: the tree of zhan tiri

there is zhan tiri iconography all over this tree.

the stone ram’s head over the entrance...

...the bas-relief in the first chamber...

...more ram’s heads over all the interior archways and the scroll shelves...

...and a return of the corkscrew-snouted ram’s head from janus point on the altar for this glorious oversized flytrap.

#4: the shell house

tromus’s shrine gives us yet another variation on the ram’s head symbol as well as another full-body idol and also, though i didn’t get a screenshot of it because it’s hard to see with the way tumblr resizes images, a little ram’s head symbol on the clasp of his robes. 

so where did this imagery come from?

with the exception of the spire idol, there is evidence to suggest that zhan tiri herself had direct influence over the design of all this iconography. 

janus point seems to have held some importance to zhan tiri herself; when she appears to varian in cassandra’s revenge, she surrounds herself with pieces of it and superimposes her own head on top of the tree. 

further, the corkscrew-snouted ram’s head reoccurs at the great tree, which is unique among the sites associated with her in that we know zhan tiri actually resided there for what sounds like a significant amount of time; according to the legend adira shares, the great tree was zhan tiri’s “stronghold.”

this means that it’s plausible that either (a) zhan tiri herself shaped the symbols on display in the tree, or (b) they were modeled after her by her contemporaries. the interesting thing about this, there are four distinct variations on the ram’s head symbol inside the tree: 1) long, thick snout with elongated horns; 2) angular, no snout, short horns, 3) corkscrew-snouted, and 4) humanlike skull with ram horns. 

and likewise, the iconography inside the shell house was created by someone we know to have been a contemporary of zhan tiri’s; tromus was one of the students of demanitus who turned against him to join zhan tiri instead, and it is logical to assume that he did, in fact, see zhan tiri in the flesh at some point—and his ram’s head design is yet again different.

this begs the question: if all five of these designs were modeled on zhan tiri herself, why is there such variety in the basic shape? i believe this is a strong point in favor of considering zhan tiri a shapeshifter who chose and stuck with a single general form for long periods of time but casually and frequently modified the smaller details. and in fact, we do see her do this in season three, with the most notable occurrence being. this: 

so, we have concluded that: 

zhan tiri’s historical iconography predates the plus est flashback, and

accurately represented her physical appearance from that time

from this, the only reasonable conclusion is that zhan tiri is a shapeshifter, who spent a considerable amount of time in the giant, ram-headed demon form depicted in all of her pre-demanitus iconography. 

but she’s human in the plus est flashback!

in the series, human characters are designed with a wide diversity of shapes and sizes, but their color palettes stay within the range of realism, with natural skin tones and eye/hair colors. zhan tiri is... not like that.

she may be human-shaped, but her color palette sits drastically outside the norms the series has established for human characters; her skin is dead white, her hair is a dull lilac color, her eyes are bright purple with a circle of gold around the pupils. none of these are natural human colors.

there is precedent in the series for marked changes in appearance and coloration as a result of meddling with magical forces: when cassandra claims the moonstone, it turns her hair and eyes bright blue and gives her an unhealthy-looking pallor. rapunzel’s hair, likewise, turns gold due to the sundrop’s influence. thus, taking this in isolation, it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility to conclude that zhan tiri, too, has had her appearance altered by whatever magical nonsense she’s been mucking around with.

however, if we look at this design in the context of the conclusions we’ve already drawn about her historical iconography and what that tells us about her true nature, i think a much simpler and more plausible explanation is that zhan tiri, being a shapeshifter, donned this humanlike form in order to get closer to demanitus. there could be any number of reasons for doing so—considering demanitus’s fixation on seeking the drops for the right reasons, i would imagine creating some distance from the malevolent monster form in order to gain his trust would have played a role in this decision.

five final points in favor of shapeshifting

#1: zhan tiri in the lost realm

we see in plus est en vous that the lost realm causes absurd magical mutations in people who are trapped there. varian theorizes that these mutations could become irreversible if they stay in the lost realm for long enough, but given that they are all freed shortly thereafter and the changes revert, there is no concrete evidence for or against this theory.

still, this raises an interesting question: if the lost realm mutates anyone who enters it, and if these changes become irreversible after long periods of time what would happen if a shapeshifter was trapped there for thousands of years?

when zhan tiri escapes from the lost realm, she isn’t all that different in appearance from when she entered it. she’s much smaller. her hairstyle has changed a bit. she lost the bag at some point. but that’s... really it. it’s a much less drastic alteration than we see happening with the coronans, who are shown transforming into objects and animals, with their bodies distorted, or with pieces of themselves becoming detached and floating away. and these changes also serve her manipulation of cass by making her appear small, weak, and harmless, so it isn’t out of the realm of possibility for zhan tiri to have chosen this form for herself.

i think it is reasonable to assume that zhan tiri, being a shapeshifter herself, was able to, if not outright resist whatever magic in the lost realm causes these mutations, at least “fix” them as they happened. her brief appearance in painter’s block supports the idea that she retained the ability to shapeshift while inside the lost realm, since she appears there as the ram-headed demon.

#2: her shapeshifting disciples

both tromus and sugracha are able to appear human, and sugracha states that she can take “many forms” in painter’s block. though it’s never explained where they got this power, it is reasonable to conclude that they received it from zhan tiri—she is their master, and the implication very much seems to be that it was she who gave them their creepy green spirit form of immortality.

and, if zhan tiri is handing out powers of shapeshifting to her minions, it follows that she must be capable of shapeshifting herself, too. 

#3: gremlin zhan tiri’s demonic shadow

this shows up in cassandra’s revenge and plus est en vous and seems to straightforwardly suggest that zhan tiri’s true nature is closer to the ram-headed demon, with the humanlike form being more of a disguise.

#4: we see her shapeshift in plus est en vous.

she briefly loses her grip on the humanlike nature of the gremlin form when rapunzel blasts her with the sundrop, as i noted above. and later—once she has the drops in hand and the gremlin form has no further use to her—she sheds it altogether to return to yet another variation on the ram-headed demon, albeit one that looks more... monkey than ram: 

#5: and finally, zhan tiri herself says so

in race to the spire: 

I believe Cassandra promised us a proper introduction, but she failed to deliver, didn’t she? Frankly, I’m surprised you hadn’t guessed who I am—seeing as how we’ve already met, in a way. You see, over the centuries, I’ve taken the form of whatever suits my needs: a warlock, a demon... even a blizzard. 

she also portrays herself as the ram-headed demon in the vision she gives to cassandra in once a handmaiden:

now... zhan tiri is a liar, and if these were statements given in isolation of any supporting evidence, i would be skeptical. however, when all the evidence in the text points toward zhan tiri being a shapeshifting entity as the most logical explanation for everything we see of her throughout the series, i’m inclined to take her corroborating statements as a factual confirmation. 

in conclusion: zhan tiri is, and has always been, a shapeshifter. if she has a “true” form, the evidence points toward it being the large, ram-headed, tentacled demon, while the humanlike shape(s) we see in season three are forms she assumed to ingratiate herself to demanitus and, later, cassandra. 

what’s the timeline with her and  lord demanitus?

time in this series is fuzzy. this applies not only to zhan tiri and demanitus, but to every historical event discussed by the characters and the timespans covered by each season, where the only time markers are the lantern festivals that celebrate rapunzel’s nineteenth, twentieth, and twenty-first birthdays and a few throwaway lines about the passage of months. thus, there is no way to say with absolute certainly when any specific event in zhan tiri’s backstory occurred chronologically. we have to do our best to arrange the events we know about in an order that is logical. 

this is complicated by the fact that we know demanitus fudged some of the details to make himself look better to rapunzel and eugene: he obscured the fact that he and zhan tiri were working partners for an unknown length of time. this verifiable lie of omission casts a patina of doubt over everything else he says regarding their shared past, but it also accounts for discrepancies between what we see and what we’re told. 

as always in unreliable narrator situations, what we see has far more weight than what we’re told. with this in mind, there are three tiers of trustworthiness in the information we are given about zhan tiri’s past: most trustworthy are the flashbacks and things we see with our own eyes; in the middle are the accounts of zhan tiri’s contemporaries—demanitus and the disciples; and at the bottom are the folk legends recounted by xavier and adira. 

so what do we see?

#1: zhan tiri and demanitus searched for the drops together

just how this arrangement came to be is unclear, but i think we can glean some interesting information from the plus est flashback.

DEMANITUS: Zhan Tiri! This is your last warning! Give up this foolish quest for power.

ZHAN TIRI: This quest for the sundrop and moonstone was both of ours.

DEMANITUS: It was, until you made it about something darker. You made it all about gaining power for yourself! You turned your back on what was right!

ZHAN TIRI: And you turned your back on me. As long as I live, I will never stop until I have that power!

DEMANITUS: I know.

[He activates the portal to the Lost Realm.]

ZHAN TIRI: This is far from over! I will have that power, and when I do, I will destroy your beloved Corona! I promise you!

[The portal closes.]

DEMANITUS: I had no choice, Vigor. I had to send her to the Lost Realm.

this suggests a couple things.

first, the working relationship between demanitus and zhan tiri broke down because her selfish desire for power clashed with his idealism. demanitus didn’t want the power of the combined sundrop and moonstone for himself; he wanted to reunite them in the service of a cause he believed to be right. zhan tiri, by contrast, was interested solely in acquiring that power for herself—but given how demanitus reacted when he learned this, it seems obvious that he didn’t know that about zhan tiri until later in their relationship.

in other words, there was some level of deceit on her part involved with their partnership from the very beginning. she hid her true motives from him; she may also have hidden her true nature from him. i think there is support both for and against the latter point: in the present day, demanitus describes zhan tiri as “a warlock”—a word zhan tiri uses as an example of her duplicitous shapeshifting—but he also describes her as being “from another realm”—suggesting he knew her to be something otherworldly or inhuman. 

i tend to fall on the side of demanitus knowing her basic nature while they were contemporaries, but believing she shared his more noble motivations at first, but i think a strong argument could be made in favor of him believing her to be human from the start and only discovering her true nature later. 

second, demanitus appears to have cared for zhan tiri far more than she cared for him. in the flashback, she’s angry at his betrayal, but her focus is on her desire for the power of the sundrop and moonstone. by contrast, demanitus gives her plenty of warning and chances to turn away from her dark path, pleads with her to “give up” her selfish motivations, and expresses clear regret after her refusal forces him to banish her to the lost realm. 

this, again, supports the interpretation that zhan tiri manipulated or used  demanitus to further her own goals, just as she would later do with cassandra, rather than this being a true partnership that broke down as a result of differing goals. she doesn’t care about him any more than she cared about cass.

#2: zhan tiri’s behavior in season three

season three firmly establishes zhan tiri as a skilled manipulator who does not care about anyone or anything besides herself and her pursuit of her own power. i won’t get into the weeds with this—if you want to read a breakdown of (some) of zhan tiri’s manipulation of cass in season three, i wrote a post about once a handmaiden here—because for our purposes, we just need to understand that the basic character of zhan tiri as we see her in the present should inform our interpretation of her behavior in the past. 

in other words, i think it is safe to assume that zhan tiri applied similar techniques and principles of manipulation to demanitus as we see her do to cassandra in the present; to wit, she would have sought to make him emotionally dependent on her by exploiting whatever vulnerabilities she could find and presenting herself to him as a trustworthy friend and kindred spirit. 

#3: she is not close to her disciples

once she is freed, zhan tiri never so much as mentions tromus or sugracha again. moreover, it is unclear how much personal information they actually know about her: in painter’s block, sugracha refers to zhan tiri as “he,” which could indicate one of several things: 

zhan tiri is female, but her disciples don’t know her well enough for assumptions they made about her gender based on the appearance of the ram-headed demon form to have been corrected, or

zhan tiri doesn’t subscribe to human conceptualizations of gender, and both “she” and “he” are acceptable pronouns because the gendered connotations of both are equally irrelevant.

i, personally, prefer the second explanation, but the first is tenuously supported by how little zhan tiri cares for her disciples.

what do her contemporaries say?

lord demanitus’s telling of his conflict with zhan tiri is as follows: 

Millennia ago, a mysterious event in the heavens divided an ancient power in two. The sundrop and moonstone fell to the earth. Three of my pupils and I researched the legend of the sundrop and moonstone, two elements that longed to reunite. We searched, but alas could not find them.

Unfortunately, we were not the only ones looking. My pupils betrayed me, and summoned my old nemesis, Zhan Tiri: a warlock from another realm, bent on destruction. It took all of my powers to banish the evil from our world.

I knew the research I had written about the sundrop and moonstone was valuable. Dangerous, in evil hands. So I tore the scroll and hid the pieces...

this exposition also shows us the identities of the three pupils who turned against demanitus and joined zhan tiri instead: sugracha, tromus, and gothel.

their identities are all confirmed outside of this sequence: sugracha and tromus appear as loyal servants of zhan tiri, and in a tale of two sisters, rapunzel and cassandra discover gothel’s research on the sundrop flower, including a piece that is an obvious attempt to recreate the demanitus scroll, indicating that gothel was indeed his student at one time: 

though it appears that gothel abandoned zhan tiri as well once she found the sundrop flower, as she hoarded its power for herself rather than seeking to use it to free her former master from the lost realm. 

now... because demanitus leaves out the part of this story that would involve admitting he worked with zhan tiri before she became his “nemesis,” we can’t say with any certainty when this business with his traitorous pupils freeing her happened—or, indeed, if it actually happened that way at all. it isn’t out of the realm of possibility that the three disciples could have been pupils of both demanitus and zhan tiri, who stuck with zhan tiri after demanitus betrayed her and banished her to the lost realm. 

my personal belief is that demanitus gathered his pupils to help him continue the search for the sundrop and moonstone after the flashback in plus est, only for them to be lured away by zhan tiri (perhaps via communication in dreams or visions, as cassandra’s revenge establishes that she’s capable of entering people’s dreams whilst trapped in the lost realm) and free her by reactivating the portal—thus shifting demanitus’s focus from “find the sundrop and moonstone” to “put the demon back in her prison and clean up this mess.” 

however, this is all very up for personal interpretation, because demanitus’s version of events is verifiably deceptive and thus cannot be taken as hard fact.

and what do the folk legends say?

#1: the blizzard

Eons ago, an evil warlock, Zhan Tiri, had a deep hatred for Corona, and cast a spell which caused a blizzard to sweep across the land. The storm destroyed everything in its path. All would have been lost, had it not been for the ancient engineer and inventor, Lord Demanitus. 

Using both magic and science, Demanitus built a massive subterranean machine deep in the Coronan mountains. This mighty device had the ability to change the direction of the wind, and it pushed the flurries out to the sea. The day was saved. Zhan Tiri had indeed been defeated. But some say the curse of the storm lives on, and is simply waiting to strike again...

we know that the basic event described here really happened, because the demanitus device does exist in the location indicated by the legend and works just as described. the details may have been glossed over or elaborated on over the centuries, but we know it is accurate in the essentials.

until recently, i put the events described in this legend immediately before the plus est flashback, to account for the snow on the ground during the flashback, but over the course of writing this post i have actually changed my own mind, and i now think that zhan tiri’s blizzard occurred when the disciples freed her from the lost realm for the first time. why? well, the imagery used to illustrate xavier’s telling of the blizzard legend is directly echoed by the imagery used to illustrate zhan tiri’s release in demanitus’s account in lost and found: 

queen for a day.

and lost and found. 

the color palettes here are identical, and in both, zhan tiri is depicted as the ram-headed demon, in almost the same pose, rising out of the mountains—which fits with both the location of the demanitus device and the possibility that she created (or became) the blizzard immediately after being released from the portal in the coronan mountains. moreover, her hatred of corona is based on her hatred of demanitus and her vengeful desire to destroy everything he loves, which would logically be stronger after he successfully imprisoned her once. 

#2: the great tree

Millennia ago, this tree was once a sentient being, a force for good. But it was corrupted by the evil sorcerer [Zhan Tiri] to destroy any who approached it. It was Zhan Tiri’s stronghold. Inside it, he was invincible. But Lord Demanitus put a stop to the tree’s magic using an enchanted spear. 

as with xavier’s blizzard legend, the fact of the spear’s existence and the behavior of the great tree itself once the spear is removed proves the basic accuracy of this legend. 

the difficulty hear lies with pinpointing when all this occurred. unlike the blizzard, there are no contextual clues to suggest where this conflict at the great tree may lie in the general timeline, so any conclusions we draw must be based on speculation. the only thing we know for sure is that zhan tiri’s residence in the great tree ended during demanitus’s lifetime, which puts a hard stop in it at about two thousand years ago.

my theory is that zhan tiri corrupted and resided in the great tree long before demanitus’s time. adira calls it her stronghold, and as discussed in the first section, the great tree has the greatest variety and frequency of zhan tiri iconography of any location in the series. one of the symbols inside the great tree is even found thousands of miles away at janus point—the corkscrew-snouted ram’s head—which draws a possible line of influence from the tree to janus point. taken together, all of this suggests a long period of time during which the great tree was zhan tiri’s tree.

and as for when it entered into the conflict between demanitus and zhan tiri, i believe there are two possibilities: 

demanitus knew of zhan tiri’s use of the great tree as a fortress, and she allowed him inside while they were collaborating in their search for the drops. she likely hid the violent nature of its defenses from him for a while; then she either let her guard down and allowed him to glimpse more of the truth, or the tree as attacked and he inadvertently witnessed a brutal massacre. either way, this is what clued him in to her ulterior motives, and he crafted the spear to destroy the tree’s magic—and it is this betrayal that zhan tiri references in the plus est flashback when she says “you turned your back on me.” 

zhan tiri had been using the great tree as a home for many years without the aggressive kill-anyone-who-enters security measures, allowing it to function as a library or house of research. this may have been how she and demanitus encountered each other in the first place, and would go a long way to explaining why demanitus trusted her initially. it wasn’t until demanitus turned against her and imprisoned her in the lost realm, and her subsequent release by his pupils, that she became enraged and turned the great tree into an indiscriminate killing machine and demanitus forged his magical spear to stop her.

i think both options are equally plausible, and since there isn’t any direct evidence one way or another, this is another case for personal interpretation and preference to really come into play.

so, to sum up...

at some point around two thousand years ago, lord demanitus encountered zhan tiri, and she persuaded him to trust her and work with her to find the mythical sundrop and moonstone. she was most likely just using him the whole time, while he grew to care for her but became so uncomfortable with her violent methods and selfish motivations that he felt he had no choice to imprison her in the lost realm. 

his pupils—whom he either once shared with zhan tiri, or gathered after the breakdown of his relationship with zhan tiri—turned against him, and either took her side in the conflict, or successfully freed her from the lost realm. i think the latter explanation(s) fit better with the information we are given. 

the blizzard discussed in queen for a day most likely happened after the plus est flashback and her subsequent release by the disciples. 

the conflict at the great tree most likely occurred either right before or at some point after the plus est flashback and her subsequent release, but it is plausible to assume that by this point she had been residing in the great tree for a considerable amount of time prior to working with demanitus. 

demanitus defeated zhan tiri and her disciples, imprisoned her in the lost realm, imprisoned most if not all of her disciples in the demanitus chamber, destroyed the portal to the lost realm so she couldn’t easily be brought back, and transferred his soul into the immortal body of a monkey so he could spend the next two thousand years as a... watchman of sorts, over the drops, probably with the hope that he could step in to prevent zhan tiri’s release if necessary.

[twentiethcenturymoviesandtv]

M*A*S*H: The Characters Part 4: B.J. Hunnicutt, Sherman Potter, Charles Emmerson Winchester III and Conclusion

Of all of the cast shake-ups throughout M*A*S*H’s run, none were more impactful on Hawkeye Pierce than the departure of Trapper McIntyre.

The original ‘sidekick’ and best friend archetype, Trapper’s absence at the 4077th immediately took its toll on Hawkeye, who came back from R&R to find that his best friend had left without a note.  For both the audience and Hawkeye, however, there wasn’t much of a wait before his absence was filled with a newcomer: Captain B.J. Hunnicutt (Mike Farrell).

A surgeon hailing from San Francisco, California, B.J. was a newcomer, fresh out of med-school and completely unused to the horrors of front-line surgery.  Introduced at the start of the new season, (meeting Hawkeye in the middle of his frantic attempt to say goodbye to Trapper) it became instantly clear that he was no ‘replacement’, but instead almost an opposite, a foil to the previous character’s archetype and to Hawkeye himself.

Where Trapper was a womanizer, B.J. was a loving, devoted husband and family man, a Nice Guy who started the show out as a tad naive, gentle, and idealistic.  He was a prankster, sure, but he was more likely to take a stand and argue with Hawkeye than Trapper had been, possessing a temper that, once roused, could be dangerous (leading to at least one physical altercation with Hawkeye).  At the beginning, the ways of war are a sudden jolt to him, one that he doesn’t necessarily take well.  As with every character, as time goes on, B.J. began to change as a result of the war, growing a mustache in a distinct ‘anti military’ move, and becoming more jaded, slowly evolving into the cynic between himself and Hawkeye.

B.J. was a good man at heart, as concerned for his patients as Hawkeye, but without the level of external breakdown that Hawkeye tended to go into.  More of a Tranquil Fury type, B.J. managed to keep a reasonably cool head, (most of the time) and acted as a Morality Chain, a voice of reason where Trapper was an encourager.  He was a more mature character, a husband and father increasingly feeling the wear and tear of being forced miles away from his family without any way to see his daughter grow up.  He also possessed a nasty jealous streak, seen often when Hawkeye mentioned how much Trapper had meant to him.

Despite their differences, B.J. and Hawkeye became very close friends throughout the show’s run, constantly having each other’s backs and being each other’s coping mechanisms through the horrors of war.  As surely as the others, B.J. became part of the 4077th’s family, and as a result, his character required the same amount of closure that the characters that had been there from the beginning deserved.

At the end of the show, B.J., like the others, gets to go home, and we as an audience learn that B.J. really doesn’t like saying goodbye.

After dancing around it through an entire episode, B.J. leaves a final farewell message to Hawkeye, (and the audience) in a heartfelt display of affection to his best friend, the man who made Korea bearable for him.  In the end, in a fitting display of the entire basis of his character, B.J. does what Trapper never did: he left Hawkeye a note.

But he wasn’t the only newcomer to make an impression.

Following Henry Blake’s death, the 4077th was in desperate need of a commanding officer (someone to relieve Frank Burns from his tyrannical reign), and replacement came in the form of Sherman Tecumseh Potter.

In much the same vein as B.J. was the complete opposite of Trapper McIntyre, Colonel Potter was very much the Anti-Blake, in the best way possible.  A career army-man, Potter was both a dedicated surgeon and a dedicated army man, on his third war.  Hailing from Hannibal, Missouri, Potter was just the man to shape the 4077th into some semblance of order, following Henry’s bumbling chaos.

Although still a Reasonable Authority Figure with a sense of humor, Potter was no pushover, standing his ground against Hawkeye and B.J.’s schemes and Frank Burns’ wheedling.  A Father to His Men (and an actual grandfather – Potter was another family man, a direct contrast with Henry’s cheating), Potter settled in instantly, a Cool Old Guy with a love of westerns and horses who could be empathetic and caring for his unit in their moments of weakness, and also make sure that Klinger didn’t get away with this week’s Scheme.

Potter was probably one of the characters who developed the least as the show went on, most likely due to his already settled personality as an ‘Old Soldier’, but by no means did he leave Korea unchanged.  As the show went on, Potter had moments of hidden depths, notably in terms with hearing the news that the last of his old squadron had died.  Potter often grappled with his age, sometimes causing him to feel competitive with his surgical abilities, attempting to prove that he could keep up with the younger doctors.  Like the others, despite his age and experience, Potter was very human, afraid of making mistakes, and, after three wars, was thoroughly tired of the killing.

“They keep inventing new ways to kill each other. Why can’t they invent a way to end this stupid war?”

After the war ended, Potter, too, got to go home to his wife, Mildred, saying goodbye to his newfound family, and receiving a genuine salute from both B.J. and Hawkeye, becoming one of two characters Hawkeye ever saluted (the other being Radar).  In the end, Potter had his unit’s affection and respect, and left Korea with dignity.

“Well, boys – it would be hard to call what we’ve been through fun, but I’m sure glad we went through it together.”

Despite beginning the show as a potential ‘replacement’ for Henry Blake, he ended it, much as B.J. did for Trapper: as an entirely new character in his own right, who changed the dynamic of the unit in general, bringing a wholly unique style to his command, and the show in general.

But there was one other character who had yet to appear on the show: another ‘replacement’ character who quickly proved that he was no simple replacement.

Exit Frank Burns, replaced with Major Charles Emerson Winchester III (David Ogden Stiers).

Charles Winchester, originally from Boston and then stationed in Tokyo, was a thoracic surgeon and pediatrician, and very good at it.  Born into a wealthy family (Very Blue Blood) and schooled at Harvard, Charles was an asset to the 4077th once he was assigned there, (after trouncing a commanding officer at cards and boasting about it) despite multiple pleas to the unmoved Colonel Potter to be reassigned.  

“But, know this: You can cut me off from the civilized world, you can incarcerate me with two moronic cellmates, you can torture me with your thrice-daily swill, but you cannot break the spirit of a Winchester. My voice shall be heard from this wilderness, and I shall be delivered from this fetid and festering sewer.”

As with Potter and B.J. before him, Charles proved very quickly to not simply be ‘the new Frank Burns’, displaying instead a completely separate and different series of personality traits, not the least of which was competence.

While Frank’s less than stellar abilities as a surgeon were repeatedly the butt of many jokes (and a source of superiority for Hawkeye, Trapper, and B.J.), Charles was legitimately excellent as his job, his only difficulty being adjusting to the pace and style of ‘meatball’ surgery when not able to utilize the time and equipment available in high-end hospitals.  But there was more to Charles than simply being good at his job.

Charles joined the cast to fill in as an antagonistic character, a role vacated by Margaret several seasons ago, and a part left entirely empty thanks to the departure of Frank Burns.  However, while Burns tended to be ineffectual, more of a nuisance than a problem, a consistently ‘inferior’ character who was always obviously wrong, Charles typically had more weight and reason to his actions.  While consistently butting heads with Hawkeye and B.J., Charles’s snobbery and selfishness could be treated as a joke, yes, and his character overall as ‘worse’ than the other two Swamp inhabitants, but at the end of the day, Charles was simply more human than Frank, and thus, a lot harder to hate.

Despite multiple attempts to ‘Break the Haughty’, Charles remained steadfast and stubborn through his time in the war, a Gentleman Snarker who slowly revealed a Jerk with a Heart of Gold type of personality.  He had a great sense of Family Honor, and despite his Insufferable Genius tendencies, proved that he had Hidden Depths, (and a potential history of a Lonely Childhood and Parental Neglect) which occasionally showed to prove to the audience, and the rest of the 4077th, that Charles was no Frank Burns.  Indeed, despite never losing his position as a ‘foil’ to the 4077th cast, Charles remained a proud, but good man from the moment he arrived until the moment he left, another symptom of a show who had matured past the need for cartoonish sit-com villains.

Despite the fact that Hawkeye never succeeded in breaking the ‘Winchester spirit’, Charles did leave Korea a changed man.  Besides learning to operate in horrendous conditions, at a pace designed merely to keep people alive and not much else, Charles took one final blow in the M*A*S*H finale: “Goodbye, Farewell and Amen” that spoke to both his character, and the toll that war takes in general.

Throughout the show, it was made abundantly clear that Charles adored classical music, viewing it as a haven away from the war, allowing him to forget about it for a little while.  His love for music enabled him to connect with a group of Chinese prisoners of war, who know some Mozart.  Throughout the episode, Charles teaches them some more, bonding with them until a prisoner exchange sends them away.

Later, the POWs are killed en route to the exchange.  As they’re brought back to the 4077th, only one is still alive, and he dies before Charles even has a chance to operate.  This devastates him utterly, to the point where he destroys his own record of the song he’d been trying to teach them.

“For me, music has always been a refuge from this miserable experience… now it will always be a reminder.”

In the end, Charles gets to go home, and in a sign of how far he’s come, he leaves the 4077th on the last remaining vehicle, a garbage truck, with utmost dignity, remarking that it’s only fitting.  Charles leaves his 4077th family, and the audience, in a somewhat surprising turn of events, misses him, is sorry to see him go in a way that we were never sorry for the absence of Frank Burns.

There were other characters, sure: the paranoid Colonel Flagg, the kitchen and mess hall staffer Igor, Klinger’s mortal enemy, Zelmo Zale, Ascended Extra fan favorite nurse Lieutenant Kelleye, and sympathetic psychiatrist Sidney Freedman, or Margaret’s less than stellar husband, Donald Penobscott.  This was more evidence for the care and realistic development that the M*A*S*H world was given: a variety of people filling in alongside the main cast, making a comfortable family that over eleven years, viewers got to know very well.

In the history of television, very few casts have had the lasting impact on viewers the way the M*A*S*H cast did.  At the end of eleven years, the audience was owed that finale, a way to say goodbye in a fulfilling way to characters that had become very familiar, important, almost real to viewers who had been tuning in to see them grow and change for over a decade.

The cast of M*A*S*H each served a place in the stories, with unique characters with depth and personality that transcended the flat character types typical of sitcoms just a tad previously.  The audience knew these people.  They liked these people.  Every character feels real, genuine, and memorable, and their dynamics are nearly as memorable as the characters themselves.

Throughout the show, you watched these characters grow and change, finding new ways to approach situations, as viewers got familiar with the core traits of their individual personalities.  They work very well as characters, as people, both entertaining and compelling figures for the audience to want to spend time with every week.  They felt real, like people you could know in real life.

And it worked.

M*A*S*H’s characters are still loved to this day, for being both entertaining and stellar examples of what happens when television characters are written like real people, with flaws and growth and kindness in varying doses.

In the end, it is that humanity in each character that gives M*A*S*H it’s longevity, and what places these characters as some of the most iconic and beloved in American television history.

Thank you guys so much for reading!  Join us next time as we discuss M*A*S*H’s place in the times and the culture.  If you have anything you’d like to say, don’t forget to leave a comment!  I hope to see you all in the next article.

[thdorkmagnet]

How Far Would You Go For Love? Part 1

Hey everyone!! Today I got something different for you all. Not Star vs for once. That’s write, I branched out a little and wrote for another series I’m really into. My Hero Academia. I’ve been in love with this show for years and decided it would be fun to actually make something for this fun and entertaining show. So here I am! This story is gonna be for my fav ship in the show: Uraraka x Deku (I don’t know what the ship name is oops ^^;). I love these two dorks and their chemistry and I had to try my hand at writing them! This story is also in first person so I really am stepping out of my comfort zone for this one haha XD I really hope you enjoy! I had a lot of fun with it and I’m pretty proud of the results!! 

I shivered violently as the crisp, cold air sting my face and hands, any semblance of bare skin felt like it was being jabbed with a thousand sharp needles. I scooted closer into the warm body beside me, ignoring any feelings I had in favor of staying warm. I tried to ignore the way the form shifted awkwardly towards me, possibly trying to provide some sense of comfort, either for me or him or both. Thanks to the harsh wind in my ears and loud-pulsing heartbeat I barely heard Deku whisper to me, “It’ll be okay, Uraraka. We’ll find a way out of this.” I knew he was trying to make me feel better, to comfort me in my moment of terror but... well...

Comfort was hard to find when you were a hostage.

At the mental reminder of my situation I licked my lips and shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the coarse ropes rubbing up against my wrists or the sharp pain from the movement. My wrists had already been rubbed raw from my pointless struggling, my determination to escape stronger than the pain. 

Of course with every moment I became less and less sure escape was an option. 

 I'm sure Deku didn't feel that way but as always I was well aware just how big a gap there was between us. Deku was a born hero, he saved people without hesitation, and when I was with him I always felt like I could do anything. It’s why I looked up to him and wanted to be by his side. It’s why I strived to be as good a hero as he was someday.

... And it’s the reason I had fallen in love with him.

For a long time I had denied my true feelings for him, justifying them in my own mind to avoid having to face reality, telling myself I just thought he was cool and someone I admired and wanted to be like. But now, faced with the possibility of death or worse, helpless and alone in the hands of a psychotic villain, I no longer had the strength to fight it. If I denied my feelings for him anymore then I might die never coming to terms with them, to let that empty, gaping hole in my heart remain until the end. Because the truth was I had no idea how this all would end. Sure, I knew UA and the other heroes would do everything in their power to save us but-

No, no I can't think like that!I shook my head back and forth to try and rid it of the nasty, taunting thoughts. This isn't the end, it can't be. If I give up then this villain wins. I forced my brain to think straight, to be like Deku, and I took a moment to examine the situation at hand like he would. We were on the roof of some large building, probably abandoned, and although I hadn't gotten a good look over the side, judging by the amount of wind I was being constantly assaulted by we had to be at least 20 stories high. I shivered involuntarily again but forced my brain not to panic. 

Instead I tried to remember how we had ended up in this mess, hoping it would offer me a clue out of it.

 When Deku had first come to me with two special tickets to the grand opening of the All Might museum he had been beyond excited. I had seen him turn into the fanboy I knew and loved before but this was on a whole different level! He seemed almost over the moon at this. He was practically squealing when he told me in his typical Deku ramble how he had spent the previous night sending in what must have been hundreds of contest entries asking basic questions about All Might’s career and judging by the bags under his eyes he most likely hadn’t slept all night because of it. But all that work must have played off cause he was declared the winner.

And then he offered me the second ticket and I thought I might die right there on the spot. While the museum itself sounded cool and everything, it almost felt like Deku was asking me out on a date! Something I had dreamed would happen for months now. It took every ounce of strength I had not to turn into a blushing, flustered mess at the very idea of such a thing.  I tried not to get my hopes too high and overthink it, but I couldn't help but ask why he picked me out of our whole class, considering anyone would be thrilled to go to a place dedicated to our awesome teacher.

He had grown slightly embarrassed by my question and I could still remember the adorable shade of pink on his cheeks as he explained that I was one of the only people who didn't judge him for his fanboy love of heroes. I tried to tell him nobody cared except maybe Bakugo but  before I got the chance Deku had nervously muttered something along the lines of “It’s different with you. I can be myself around you.”  And if my heart was any fuller in that moment it probably would have exploded.

We both decided to keep our 'date' a secret, Deku worried about upsetting the others for not inviting them, while I was more concerned about the girls finding out. I loved them but they were born gossipers, especially Ashido. The last thing I wanted was the whole school finding out that me and Deku were going on a date. Especially since I don't think Deku meant it to be one.

That still didn't stop me from spending a good two hours picking out the perfect outfit though, while trying to ignore my jittery nerves. I kept telling myself that this wasn't a date. That this was just a get together between two friends, nothing more. But convincing my racing heart of this seemed to be an impossible task. All my hard work paid off in the end when Deku spotted me, blushing and muttering under his breath something about ‘me looking really nice’ and how ‘he wished he had changed out of his All Might t-shirt' but I quickly assured him he looked fine and considering where we were headed, would fit right in.

What happened next I remembered all too well. As if I was reliving the same horrible events all over again. 

I can’t believe how lucky I am! Here I am, next to my favorite person in the world, walking side by side with him on a date! Well not technically a date but still it was close enough for me. I can’t stop smiling I’m so happy! Or wait, am I smiling too much? Is Deku gonna think I’m weird cause of how much I’m smiling? I glanced over at my friend, only to find he was too distracted to notice my weird smiling. He was talking to himself or maybe to me, it was hard to tell sometimes, going on and on about something. Probably All Might related if I had to guess. His eyes usually only gleamed like that when talking about his hero. Even if I couldn’t always follow along, I loved listening to how passionate he was about stuff like this and it was hard not to get excited with him, his enthusiasm was contagious.

As I listened to Deku’s adorable rambles, I gave a quick glace up at the towering building coated in All Might’s signature colors of red, white, and blue, his name displayed above the front entrance in bright, flashy letters. 

“Hey look, Deku,” I said excitedly to him. “I think that’s the place up ahead.” I pointed it out to him and his green eyes seemed to be filled with starlight. His whole face was practically glowing, he looked like a kid at Christmas, then again for him this probably was like a second Christmas for him. Before I knew it I was smiling like an idiot right alongside him. Date or not, I was just so happy to be here with him. Today was gonna be great because I was gonna get to hang out with the coolest guy I knew. Without realizing it, my hand reached out for his and to my even greater shock and surprise he actually held it back! I felt my cheeks heating up in a blush while my heart was busy pounding away a mile a minute. I was floating on cloud nine! Nothing my quirk could do could possibly make me feel more like this, like I was walking on air, only Deku had that power over me and I loved it. 

Just before the two of us could enter into the museum, however, a sudden scream reached our ears. The voice was muted and distorted from distance but there was no denying the call for help, nor the fear in the man’s voice. One quick glance at Deku and I knew we were both on the same wavelength, our thoughts for a moment one. Of course, Deku being Deku, he ran into the alley without a second thought, but I was proud to be right on his heels, ready to prove myself as worthy heroes in training and maybe even Deku’s equal. 

We immediately came across the victim, a man crouched on the ground, clutching his chest as if he was in some kind of pain. My lessons kicked in as I did my best to survey the situation: the man was alone so it didn’t seem to be a villain attack, from what I could see he wasn’t bleeding out or in any critical state, although that could be shielded by his arm. I watched as Deku knelt next to him, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder, asking the standard questions: ‘If he was alright?’, ‘What we could do to help?’, that kind of thing. But for some reason I felt an uneasy twist in my gut. Something wasn’t quite… right. 

Instead of answering his concerned questions, the man simply asked Deku if we were heroes. Something about the tone of his voice set me off, there was no sincerity there, only an underlying malice. But before I could voice these concerns, though, Deku had already replied with a cheerful smile. "Actually we're UA students."

The man smiled and I heard him whisper something dark under his breath, before his hands lashed out and grabbed onto Deku’s arm. 

I saw the look of confusion on Deku’s face before he realized the danger and started to pull away, lifting his leg to kick. The man, however, simply twisted Deku’s body around, holding his arm tightly against his back, the awkward angle looking incredibly painful. I watched as my friend squirmed and screamed in pain, demanding the villain release him. But the look in his eyes was what caught me off guard the most, they looked distinct and half-lidded as if he was struggling to stay conscious. 

“Let him go!” Wasting no more time, I threw myself into the battle, too, determined to free my friend from this villain’s wrath. Whatever he was doing to Deku, I needed to stop it now! I tried to touch him with my fingers, hoping to make him float so taking him out would be easier but he moved out of the way much quicker than I was expecting. He threw poor Deku to the side like he was a worthless ragdoll and for whatever reason, my crush was unable to catch himself as he landed hard on the paved ground, his head no doubt taking quite a bit of the fall, the impact making me cringe. I couldn’t help myself, my concern for my complain greater than my hero training as I turned and shouted, “Deku!” 

And that was the only opening the villain needed as he latched on strongly to my arm. 

The instant he did I felt my head grow fuzzy and everything began spinning in a nauseating circle. I was used to this feeling, thanks to my quirk, and did my best to try and pull away, but his grip was like a vice. Everything started to blur in a flash of colors and noises. I heard Deku scream my name, followed by a grunt, though I couldn’t tell if it was from him or the villain.

I knew we were running out of time to act, so I forced my brain to remember my training as I attempted a move to dislodge his hand from my arm, but thanks to my functionless mind, my movements were too sluggish and slow. I didn’t even have time to react as the man grabbed me by the hair and slammed me hard into the cement ground. My vision began to go black but just before the world faded away, I could hear Deku’s panic-filled scream call out to me, his voice slurred as he began to lose consciousness just like me.

And then there was nothing.

When I finally came to, I had a massive headache unlike anything I had ever felt before. My brain felt like it was on fire and I groaned in agony. I risked opening my eyes only to discover my uncomfortable position as this villain's hostage. I had lost track of how much time had passed since then but my guess was that it had been close to an hour or two.

I let out a slow breath to calm my racing heartbeat. I had to find a way to escape. I just had to! Before- before... well I didn't want to think about that. I had to focus on getting away at any cost. But I was unsure what to even do,I had already exhausted all the other escape attempts I could think of, the few that came to mind. Maybe Deku had an idea?

He probably did but it wasn't safe to ask him, not with the villain pacing back and forth in front of us. I looked over to said villain and noticed he wasn't paying either of us any mind. Which was nothing new, ever since we got here, this unknown villain hadn't shut up about his plans. He had rambled on and on about his goals, about how he would make the heroes pay, how it was thanks to heroes his life was ruined. I had nearly let out a sigh of annoyance the moment he started up his cliche monologue but caught myself at the last second. It felt like every villain I encountered had the same flawed view of hero society. They all wanted to see it destroyed and replaced with their own messed up world. Didn't these guys have anything better to do?

 Now though, he just looked agitated, wringing his hands together nervously as he continued his incessant pacing. I could hear him mumbling something under his breath. It was clear he was becoming unstable. And that boded poorly for me and Deku. I had suspected this person was suffering from some sort of mental illness (after all what sane person would kidnap two high schoolers) and it seemed my suspicions were confirmed. 

What terrified me is what he would do when the little sanity he had left snapped? What would become of me and Deku when he got bored of us? 

The thought turned my blood to ice and I fought back the growing tears of defeat. If this was the end for me and Deku then... 

I cast a longing look at my crush, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth set in a flat line. There were a few new bruises on his body and I guessed he hadn’t be taken so easily like I had. He looked so unlike the Deku I knew, the one who I had seen not a few hours ago, giddy and full-of-life, and I could feel the tears nearly spilling over just looking at him. This whole ordeal must be affecting him terribly, too. I didn’t want to do this, not here and certainly not now, but I doubted I'd have another chance, so I drew in a shaky breath to try and steady my frayed nerves, gathering what little strength I had left to muster.

"Deku," I squeaked and instantly regretted that decision. Gosh my voice sounded awful, like I had been gargling nails and hadn't spoken in a year. Not to mention the noticeable shake in my tone even though I had tried so hard to fight it. 

It was no surprise then that Deku whipped his head around to face me, his eyes wide and full of concern (most likely for me). When our eyes met though, I felt a small bit of warmth settle inside my cold, tired body. It wasn't enough to completely halt the despair I felt creeping into my mind but it helped to give me a little strength and hope to fight that overwhelming feeling back.

I tried to summon the courage to tell my crush my true feelings, to ignore the darkness and terror we were trapped in and create a small moment of light and love to cling to. But what I wasn't expecting was for Deku to smile at me.

He actually smiled! And I knew that smile better than anyone, I had seen it enough times to know what it meant. He was trying to provide me comfort. In this dark, hopeless situation, Deku still had the courage to smile. It was forced and shaky, his eyes full of fear and the corners of his mouth quivered with the effort of holding it together but it was there! And I was once again reminded of the true strength my friend had and by proxy how little I had in comparison. Before I had a chance to speak he whispered in a shaky but determined tone, "Don't worry, Uraraka. I promise we'll get out of here. I won't let this be the end. I swear."

I had no words with which to reply with but I could feel the tears threatening to spill over. Without thinking I buried my head in the front of his jacket and sobbed. I knew how weak it made me look, that a hero shouldn't behave this way but I couldn't help it. Deku didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve me. Even though he was scared and worried, he still had the strength to try and help me. He was a true hero and it scared me to think that he might not live to prove that to everyone.

Deku didn't say anything to me while I sobbed brokenly. He just let me work it all out of my system. He didn't even fuss over the fact I was completely drenching his limited edition All might hoodie. Instead he just leaned his head on top of my own, the only comfort he could offer with his hands tied uselessly behind him. The gesture only made me sob harder. Because gosh he was too good for me! 

I probably could have stayed like that forever curled up on Deku’s chest, if my loud bawling hadn't unfortunately attracted the attention of our unnamed captor. "Hey shut up you damn brat, before I make you!" He hissed at me, the venom in his tone enough to make me choke on my tears, trying feebly to stop their flow. 

While I was busy with that, Deku shot the man a glare and I felt him curl around me even more in a protective manner. He looked like he wanted to say something but he held his tongue, his attention shifting back to me as he began muttering meaningless phrases in an attempt to comfort me. It took a bit of effort but I finally managed to quiet my sobbing till it was nothing more than small whimpers. 

This seemed to quell the villain (for now) as he went back to muttering to himself and I tried to take this as a small relief. I blinked a few times to clear them of tears and felt shame at the sight of my friends tear-stained hoodie, the whole front of which was soaked in my tears. Deku’s stare was burning into my skin but I kept my head lowered. I couldn't face him after my breakdown. What would he think of me? Here he was being brave and heroic while I broke down over the littlest of things. 

Before the tears could start up again I forced myself to meet Deku’s eye, my heart pounding painfully in my chest. As expected, his look was one of pained sympathy and my cheeks felt like fire from the blush that spread over my face in an instant. I was the first to break eye contact, staring sheepishly at the floor. "Sorry," I whispered, trying to resist the temptation to hide in Deku’s hoodie again. 

"Don't be," he replied with a small shake of his head. "I know this a lot to deal with. I don't blame you for crying." He tried to crack a smile, joking awkwardly, "Beside you've seen me cry plenty of times before."

It was true. I had seen Deku cry more times than I could count but I never saw that as a weakness. When he cried I knew he was just overcome with emotion and was expressing it freely. I respected that. That he wasn't afraid to express himself. So why was it, I felt so ashamed of doing it myself? It just made me feel weak. Like the barrier between him and me had become even wider. I didn't want him to comfort me, I wanted to be strong enough to protect him.

"How are you so calm right now?" I wondered aloud. 

Deku shrugged. "I'm not gonna lie, I'm scared. Really scared," he admitted honestly. A shaky breath before he continued. "But... I have to keep smiling. I have to believe we’ll be okay. That the other heroes will save us. Cause that's what All Might would do. He'd stay strong no matter how bad the odds are."

I couldn't help but admire Deku for a moment. He really was amazing. And if he could keep believing, then I had to do the same. No matter how bad things got. 

Both me and Deku jumped when our captor let out a loud, guttural howl. It sounded inhuman, filled with malice and insane energy. The sound alone was startling enough but the fact that it had happened seemingly at random put me on edge. Whatever sanity the villain had seemed to have finally shattered as he began loudly talking to himself, getting more and more agitated by the second. "They aren't coming. Why aren’t the heroes coming? They should be here. Maybe they forgot. No, no they couldn't have. They must not think I'm a threat. But I am! I need to show them, I-I need to... give them a reason to come. Yes that's it." 

With that the man slowly turned towards us with a long, creepy expression stretched across his face. The little comfort me and Deku’s conversation had brought me was shattered in an instant when I saw the look in the villain’s eyes. Those were the eyes of a corned animal. The eyes of a beast pushed to its breaking point. There was danger in them and I knew at once things were about to take a very, very bad turn. 

For a few tense seconds we just stared each other down, captor and captives waging a mental battle and I had no clue who was winning or losing. The air was so thick with dread I could almost feel it with each breath I took. There was no sound, only silence, but that seemed to have mesmerized the villain, like he was waiting for it to break. And I feared what would happen when that pin dropped and that silence was shattered. 

Then, with no warning, the moment was broken, the villain moving towards us in a flash, a crazed look still in his eye. I flinched instinctively, closing my eyes and waiting for the pain to start. There was no doubt in my mind I would be the target of his rage since I had been the biggest nuisance to him. He would be quick to dispose of me. 

But to my surprise it was Deku who cried out and my eyes snapped open in shock. The villain had a tight grip on Deku’s hair, his fingers laced painfully in his green curls, while the other hand fumbled to undo the knots around Deku’s wrists. But being Deku, he put up a resistance, squirming and making the job difficult for our unknown assailant. Meanwhile, I was forced to watch powerlessly with my own arms bonded uselessly behind my back. I shouted to the villain and kicked my feet but it did nothing to deter him. 

The villain growled in frustration, giving Deku a wild shake that made my stomach twist into knots. He leaned down to hiss in his ear, but I was able to make out the chilling words, "Stop fighting or the girl takes your place instead." 

I watched with horror as Deku calmed his resistance, allowing the man to finish his work still glaring daggers the whole time. No, no this was all my fault. I was being used against him! Deku, the one I loved was about to die to save me. This horrible villain had just twisted my sweet Deku’s heroic nature into something wrong and despicable. 

The villain eventually loosened the ropes enough that Deku was no longer pinned in place, but his hands were still tied tightly behind him, keeping him weak and helpless. I thought I might puke as I watched the man drag my friend away by his hair. By his freaking hair! I could hear the roots tearing but Deku, to his credit, suppressed any screams through gritted teeth. 

I continued to scream and thrash in my bounds, desperate to help my friend, to save the boy I loved from this nightmare. I could feel hot, sticky blood dripping from my wrists, every movement painful from where I had rubbed the skin raw struggling but still I fought. I refused to give up. Not until Deku was safe. "Let him go! Leave him alone!"

Deku didn't give up either, determination hidden behind the fog in his eyes as his body glowed green. I recognized the power of his quirk immediately, the air itself filled with electricity as he swung a leg towards the villain in his signature shoot style and I sucked in a breath, daring to hope this terror might finally end.

But Deku’s reflexes had been dulled thanks to whatever this villain's quirk was and his movement’s sloppy and formless, at least compared to the lightning fast attacks I was used to seeing from him. Our capture was able to easily snatch Deku’s leg before it made contact with his face, a new look of dark fury flashing in the man's crazed eyes. 

And then he began to twist Dekus ankle, my crush struggling to hold back his pained whimpers. He moved slowly, so slowly, and oh gosh I don’t think legs can bend that way! I was gonna be sick, I wanted to look away but it was as if I was under a spell, mesmerized by the horrible display, while my brain and mouth begged and screaming for it to end. But he just kept twisting,

 ...and twisting,

 ......and twisting,

Until...

Snap!

Deku’s blood curdling scream burned itself into my subconscious and I watched with teary eyed vision as my friend writhed on the ground, his foot twisted at an awkward angle, already red and swelling. My heart ached inside my chest. It hurt so damn much to see my crush and best friend hurting so much, while I was powerless to help him. I felt sick, my stomach in knots and my blood cold. Without realizing, I had stopped struggling, I lacked the strength to even raise my arms. It felt like my heart had just shattered along with the bones in Deku’s leg.

And then, while the two of us writhed in our own agony, the villain started to laugh. Actually laughed! 

And I saw red.

I was not an angry person, far from it, but that laugh, that sinisterly gleeful chuckle, made me feel for the first time ever true unyielding rage. And it scared me.

My struggles renewed stronger than ever, I didn't care if I ripped my arms off! I was stopping this! For a second I had a flicker of a thought, wondering if this was how Bakugo felt all the time.

As I fought valiantly against my bonds I watched as the villain slowly pulled open his coat and a glint of silver metal caught my eye. 

My heart froze and I could see from the corner of my eye the fear in Deku’s eyes as the gun was pulled free from its holster. The man seemed amused by our fear, a cruel, wicked smile splitting open his lips revealing a layer of crooked teeth. The villain soaked in the power he held, taking his dear sweet time as he cocked the deadly weapon. 

The click caused tremors through my body, the realization that all of this was actually happening hit me hard. There was a real weapon before me and right now it was loaded and ready to kill. 

The barrel was soon aimed and level with Deku’s head and despite how brave and strong he was I heard a tiny whimper escape his throat.

And I lost all sense of self control.

I pulled violently against the thick ropes, blocking out the pain completely as I twisted my arms as much as I could in any attempt to get free. I didn't have time to waste, in a matter of seconds Deku would be dead. Finally I heard a loud snap behind me and I had no idea if that was the ropes or my wrists themselves, all I knew was that I was free.

 I scrambled to my feet, running at the villain as fast as my sore legs could carry me. I didn't hesitate, I didn't think, I was reacting on protective instincts right now, my only goal to keep Deku alive. I slammed hard into the man's back, jabbing my elbow into the center of his spine, just like I had been taught. I knew this wouldn't be enough to knock him down, his stature was much greater than mine, so I reached out for the gun hand, my fingers just barely managing to brush skin, but that was enough for my quirk to do the job. 

The shift in weight was enough to knock us both off our feet. On the way down I heard a loud bang next to my ear, causing it to ring loudly. The ground was much harder than I expected, my body skidding painfully across the rough terrain. I could feel skin being scraped off, the pain sending jolts to my stunned brain. When I came to a stop my whole body was radiating pain, I could feel every gash and bleeding cut as they throbbed in agony. 

 But I quickly shoved all of this to the side, focusing my attention back on my hurt friend. Deku looked shaken up, his leg still twisted at an unnatural angle but other than that was no worse for wear. I could see a tiny indention in the ground next to his head and realized the bullet must have missed him by mere inches. 

But at least it did miss.

Deku’s eyes were wide in what I could only assume was shock and fear, his gaze locked on me and me alone. I had never been happier to see those green irises in my life, the relief that he was still alive and breathing far greater than anything my battered body could complain about. Deku was still alive, that was all that mattered. 

He was safe and I could rest.

 But just before I could collapse and sleep for a hundred years, I heard a familiar voice yell to me, the tone dark, twisted, and most of all angry. "You bitch!" 

I glanced up to see a new terrible sight. The villain was still alive and he had his gun. Thanks to my quirk he was currently suspended in the air, his body doing slow turns. I must have hit him harder than I thought because he was dangling over the side of the building, a long, deadly drop waiting just below his feet. 

The look in his eyes... that was the look of a killer and I knew at once I had made a terrible mistake. 

"You're gonna regret that," he hissed at me, venom dripping from every syllable. He once more raised the gun and I flinched, expecting to be staring down the loaded barrel. But instead, he pointed the gun at Deku and fear clenched my chest. 

"I'm gonna make you hurt," the monster said, grinning at my pain. He knew where I was vulnerable, we both could see it and one of us was too late. 

I tried to stand, maybe I could shield Deku or push him out of the way somehow but my body refused. It was failing me at the worst possible second. 

I saw the terror in Deku’s eyes as they jumped from the gun to me and then back to the gun. 

"Your boyfriend is dead, ya hear me!"

My brain scrambled for an idea, searching tirelessly through my limited options for some way out of this mess.

But I didn't have one.

Nothing would work.

It was over.

My heart squeezed painfully in my chest as Deku tried to reason with the villain, trying to delay his death. "Please, you don't wanna do this."

I saw the man's finger slowly pressing against the trigger and I knew I was out of time.

Out of options.

Only one thing would save Deku now.

My hands moved on their own, my fingers pressing together as a strangled cry escaped my throat. "Release!"

And then the villain vanished.

Disappearing over the side of the building.

His echoed screams reached my ears, every second growing softer.

Softer.

Softer...

And then they just stopped.

The abrupt silence caught me off guard. After the rush of terror and adrenaline that had been so present a moment ago, the peaceful atmosphere that remained felt strangely out of place. A cool breeze tickled my sweaty face, blowing my hair and ripped clothes all over the place. 

Was it really over?

It had all happened so fast that my brain took a moment to process it all. All I could do was stare at the spot the villain had just been, before he -before I-

My hands flew to my mouth as I choked back a sob.

No.

No I didn't.

I-I couldn't have.

That was impossible.

But I had.

I had just killed someone. 

A feeling of guilt unlike anything I ever felt before hit me at once as the reality of my situation sunk in. I had just broken one of the only rules a hero had to follow. I was a murderer. My breaths had become shuddery and shaky as I fought back the tears that threatened to spill.

In a desperate attempt for comfort I looked to Deku, hoping he could somehow make this whole, nightmarish situation better. But the face I was greeted with was anything but soothing. Deku was staring at me with wide, pained eyes, his body tense as he regarded me and he flinched when I turned his way. Almost like he was afraid of me. The normally bright green of his eyes that I loved to look into had darkened greatly. I could see the judgement in his eyes, I could feel the disappointment from where I was. Deku saw me for what I had become, a killer, someone unworthy of being a hero. Someone unworthy of Deku.

I felt sick, bile rising at the back of my throat and I whimpered struggling to hold it back. But I could no longer fight off the tears, Deku's dark expression had been my breaking point. The tears flowed freely down my cheeks, burning my skin. 

I sobbed pitifully, burying my face in my hands as pain and guilt racked my body. How could I do that? How would I ever be able to face my classmates again after what I had done? How could I call myself a hero? 

 Warm arms wrapped around my torso and I tensed in surprise, looking over with tear-stained vision to see Deku. Deku was hugging me. I had wanted that for so, so long and now I couldn't even enjoy it. I didn't deserve to enjoy it. His eyes were full of sympathy and I could see tears forming in his own vision, but that just made the pain worse.

I didn't deserve to be forgiven. Not by him, someone who was already a greater hero than I could ever hope to be.

"Its okay, Uraraka," he whispered, tightening his hold as my sobs only grew. "It's not your fault, it'll be alright."

Not my fault? Was he blind? No. Leave it to Deku to sugar coat reality, to see the light in the endless darkness. He somehow didn't believe it was my fault when it so clearly was. 

"I'm so sorry," he muttered and I felt something wet drip on my shoulder. 

He was apologizing. Why? I was the one who killed that guy. This was my fault, not his. 

I couldn't stop crying, no matter how much I tried to silence my pitiful sobbing, I couldn't. My body and mind had taken all it could handle and it needed to feel no matter how much I wanted to suppress this. 

I couldn't escape this. This feeling was my burden to bear now.

The cold wind swept over my body, chilling me to the bone. For a long time, I just sat there, weeping in Deku’s arms as he spoke soft words of comfort to me, holding me as if I might break. As if I deserved forgiveness. But I didn't. I had saved Deku from death but at the cost of my own morals. 

And the part that scared me the most was that I didn't regret it.

Despite the heaviness on my heart and soul, the guilt that was seeking to crush me and pull me under, at the end of the day it didn't matter. Deku was alive. He was safe. 

And nothing else mattered but that.

Part 2 coming... whenever I can finish it ^^;

[oflovetruth]

Sehun’s first love,

A semblance of hope had washed over the otherwise hopeless romantic. The taste of bitter espresso taking over his senses, and his bleary vision had barely made up his surroundings. Blinking out his sleepiness, he forced himself to grab whatever bits of food that he had from last night. Takeout. Ah. Great. No wonder, he cannot seem to achieve the body of his dreams. Hand tapping on the centre of his stomach, and blindly blaming himself for wasting such effort on junk food. He grabbed the folded box, and he had unraveled the cold noodles that lied inside. Groaning, quietly, to himself, he threw the soggy noodles into a microwave safe bowl, and threw it inside to heat. Whilst he would wait for it, he had hurried his way to change out of his sleeping attire; which consisted of a thin shirt and sweats.. topped with Bambi socks. Not the most intimidating person to consider. Rummaging through his closet, eyes staring daggers for something new to wear, and he had hit jackpot. A pair of dress pants topped with a button down? Ah, what else is possible? He took the clothing, and laid it first on the bed. Swiftly yet cautiously as to not ruin the recently ironed shirt, he had changed into it, and he could hear the ringing of his microwave—muffled by the subtle shut of his bedroom door. Jumping up and down, trying to shovel his way into it. Has he gained weight? He does not particularly remember the last he had weighed himself. Hurrying his way to eat his makeshift breakfast, and nearly burning his tongue in the process. He will definitely buy himself on the way back from campus. Ah. Yes. His social life had barely lived up to the expectations of his parents. His stomach had felt sick, and he was certain it was more so his worries than the hours old food. At last, taking a leap onto changing his socks, and switching them with a new pair of plain ones to match his mundane outfit. Eyeing himself in the mirror, he fixed the few unorthodox strands of hair back into place. Grabbing his bag from the floor, he had already fixed his schedule into it, and he smiled upon the start of a new day. Luckily, his apartment had only been a few minutes walk from campus, and never had to worry too much about sleeping in; he had always been an early bird. Smelling the fresh scent of rain mixed with the city fumes—it was quite the odd mixture, although Sehun was quite fond of it. It reminded him of home, and nothing brings him great happiness than home. Seeing familiar faces as he had gotten closer to campus, he could almost pick up on a few gossips, and he was not too fond of that. He hated it when people would speak behind others’ back, and have great pleasure in doing so. Perhaps, it is the mere fact of majoring in Psychology that opened up his eyes to the reality of the human mind, and how crooked it can be—in the search of endorphins. He would hear the cacophony only accumulate as his way towards the university buildings lessened. The incessant gossiping had only irked him, at this point. In the midst of his wavering state, he could pick up a familiar face in the distance, and his former stoic face began to slowly merge up into a warm smile. Jongin. His best friend. What a sight for sore eyes, no? He would often pretend to duck his head down, and scan the newsfeed that clogged up his phone’s screen. His eyes would dilate upon the numerous scholars that piled up, and his excitement to devour all the new information and knowledge; his heart could only handle so much—bump. He had accidentally bumped himself against his friend, instead of actually saying hello. A giggle had erupted out of the gentle and soothing one. “My bad!” He spoke, his hand patting over his friend’s chest, and he locked eyes with him for a brief second. “You need to give your eyes a bit of a break...I’m surprised you don’t need glasses yes, Tokki..” His friend voiced with concern, ushering for him to follow. Sehun nodded his head ever so slowly; humming in response before his excitement piled up before his very eyes. “Well! You see.. I just cannot seem to ignore the new scholars I could use in order to build the perfect research,” He mused, his tongue tapping the roof of his mouth, and it sure was reminiscent of that black coffee from earlier. “You know? I often think you’re too dedicated that you just lost your energy..” His friend voiced with concern, his brows furrowed, and his lip jutted out in a subtle pout. Sehun could see where he had been voicing those concerns, and he heedlessly brushed it off as something trivial. “I am on top of everything, nonetheless,” He said with a bold tone—his eyes squinting into a soft smile. “Anyway, I will see you after class!” He quietly spoke, his hands waving towards him friend—nearly dropping his book, and he squeaked. Sighing at himself; due to his idiosyncratic behaviour. Walking up the stairs, preferably, he enjoyed the architecture that was put into this school. It was quite old, which he liked, and it reminded him of numerous books he had read about this particular university. It feels utterly rewarding to be inside of it. Staring at his phone, he was making his way to his ethics class. He did not particularly believe this class to be hard, albeit the material was a lot to remember. The ninety minutes period had passed quicker than expected. Sehun was quite intrigued by how fixated and attentive, he was. Jotting down notes, inquiring his curiosities and doubts, and thanking his lecturer before leaving the class hall. He was the embodiment of a slacker’s nightmare. He did not bother, though. He was feeling the brink of hunger eat at him; it was not a pleasant feeling. Surely, he would hold his bag over the centre of his stomach—trying to compensate for the pain that lingered a little further than anticipated. Well, that is not precisely the perfect way to phrase it. “Something... easy to digest and quick..” His mind had immediately rushed to the convenience store just outside of campus. Right, right. He could never forget the late nights, whenever he would visit the shop, and the lady would recognise his face. He was a regular, if one had to be precise. That was the initial plan after his class; although he was fast-walking his way down the hall. Making a beeline for the exit of the building—till his eyes had captured a sight he was not expecting. It is almost as if time was still. It stopped. His eyes were once slanted downwards due to his lethargic state, yet now they grew wider—the background had became a blur. She became the centre of his attention; the cynosure. Her beauty is immaculate. She had a smile that stretched across her angelic features, and his heart nearly drummed out his lungs out of his rib cage. He must have looked absolutely insane. No, no, he probably is lost. He could not take his eyes off her. The way she had headed her way towards the exit, and the way her digits held onto the hem of her translucent sleeves; chiffon. The gentle colour of warmth, the clementine perfume—the saccharine sense of it all. Sehun had to make a move, and he had to make it quick.

Little did he know that angel was nothing but the nightmarish devil; awaiting the very purity of men to come forth, and reap them off all their innocence. His perceptions were meddling—they were messy. His eyes felt as if they were being gorged out with a frigid spoon. He could feel his head pounding, his body trembling with tremors ceasing to pause, and his voice had been caught in his throat. There she was. Stood high. A lavish dress that she draped over her curvaceous figure, and a wine-red lipstick encapsulated her very full lips. Sehun could not take his eyes off her. She was his, yet he felt as if she owned him. Sitting upright, he rubbed his eyes, and as he was about to inquire the woman about her sleep—she had placed the tip of her index finger over his lips. “Shh..” Her honeyed voice would speak; his heart shaken with the urge to only obey her. Her hands would traverse over his physique, his eyes following her, and once clothed—now bare. He felt as if it was moving far too quickly for his liking. “No—Aerinnie... not now,” He would say with an apologetic smile spread across his face. “I feel tired, yeah?” He felt as if he had to surge his excuses out. She was a fine lady, there was no denying that. All it took was a scintilla of doubt to wash over their relationship, and cause it to lose its once stable foundation. Once she would stay over, now he could barely catch her phone not busy. It felt odd. It felt wrong. He could not force himself to divulge into her business, although he felt that it is only fair that he knew—he was not asking for much, right? Soon, Sehun’s doubts began to accumulate by the second, and understandably, they were welcomed with facts that broke his heart atom by atom. He had never seen the angel claw at his skin, scream to his face, and eye him with disdain in her heart. It did not feel right. This is not the woman he had fallen for. Something must be wrong.. not till he had been faced with the mere factor; she voiced it. It took all of him to not cry on the spot. Three months into the honeymoon phase, the true colours began to finally appear—display itself before the man. Sehun had an idea of something such as this to happen, yet he did not expect it too soon. She would look at him across the table, boredom risen in her expressions, and Sehun tried his best to build any sort of excitement into the conversation. She felt far away. She would take a sip of her wine before he could finish his sentences. Futile. He almost felt as if he was not supposed to be here, and that tore at his heartstrings. The date felt mundane. Idle. Wrong. He had never eaten as quickly as he did, and neither had he paid as quickly as he did. Watching her stand, and hurry towards the exit. Her heels cracking down the marble floors of the - ridiculously - expensive restaurant that he had reserved for the both of them; a failure. He had to step up his pace in order to keep up with her, and he had to finally confront her. It felt as if he was talking to a wall. Where was the love that she had showed him? Was it all a plan to simply come for him? Sehun had a lot rushing through his mind, his lips momentarily quivering, and he stood before the woman who had taken his heart... and clearly, had the black intent of stomping on it with her stilettos; tearing it apart with a cold smile across her face. “Sehunnie~” She would say, her hands finding solace onto the man’s shoulders, and her eyes—they batted their lashes—lips morphed into a smile that Sehun could not recognise. Her voice felt as if the entire world had stopped, whenever she would speak. Sehun, only gulped, and looked back at the ethereal woman. “You’re a smart man... you know?” She would muse. Hands taking business in playing with his collar—ever the hairs at the back of his head. Sehun reacted to it all. He was ridden with anxiety, and this had only increased it; she knew. “But you’re so credulous,” She would shove at the fabric, nearly ruining the ironed suit. Causing Sehun to gasp in reciprocal—unbeknownst to him, just how much he would resent this holy ground they stood before. “You make me want to hit you—you’re so fuckin lame,” Her tone was not honeyed, anymore. Honey had turned into poison. Sehun could barely keep his breathing in a stable state; labouring. “I don’t fucking love you, did you really for that, petit prince~?” The woman said; eyes full of malice. Sehun, during this, could barely manoeuvre his body. He felt as if he was caught in her web, and there was no escape—to be exact—she gave him no escape. “I only want you for your dick. You’re nothing to me,” She would cackle between her words, causing eavesdropping people to chuckle under their breaths; humiliating the man before her. “You—you’re messing with me,” Sehun managed to crack out. He could feel the heartstrings being pulled at every corner of his body. It cannot be right. She must have drank too much. “Ah~ right, right.. I do love you.” She would press a chaste kiss to his lips. It felt bitter. It felt wrong. Sehun hardly managed to reciprocate the kiss; yet he did. Walking back home with her had felt odd. Unheard of. Raw. Wrong. It all felt too wrong.. almost as if there was truth to that joke. It left him ruminating during that night. He could not sleep properly, and his eyes only bared the tiredness of the sleep deprived state; coffee could not hinder him from nearly collapsing on the hard floors of the classroom hall. What a shame. He had seen her face during class. She looked peaceful, but far too occupied with her phone.. she was... smiling. She had not shown that smile to him in quite awhile—two months—and it was only fair to contemplate, right? Luxurious gifts, her hair tied with high end fashion houses, and her attire had began to completely differ from before. His angel was not his angel, anymore. Sehun felt a bile form in his throat, and it felt as if it was tightening. He knew it was only purely caused by his mental state, but he could not stomach seeing her act so differently—hostile—to him; yet watch others with the same smile that she used to give him. What did he do wrong? He had been with her during her pregnancy scare—before they had dated—he had been there with her, when her parents quarrelled about whom should stay in their place. He had always been that ear that listened, yet he was oscillating with his emotions trying to rationalise the entirety of this situation. Had he been short on something? He had always sent her long messages about how much he appreciates her, and she would only send him a heart. It did hurt—seeing his efforts disappear—and hers nonexistent. Trying to walk his way towards her, nevertheless she had disappeared like a ghost. It slowly had became the typical for him. He had pulled himself away from his excessive emotional messages, his attempts at calling her to ensure that she was okay, and finally, he had stopped looking for her in the crowd of students in the halls—it made no sense. Why search for somebody that could not even bat an eye your direction? Their dates had started to get more boring and fruitless. Their meetings at his place had been nothing but watching a movie—with her texting on her phone—and him just forcing a smile to look at her. When will this nightmare end? When will she stop hiding away from him? What had happened? Despite her cold behaviour, Sehun had still understood. He did not want to hurt her more than she was already hurting.. right? He was too selfless for his own well being. Had he not realised how she had always been disappearing for a few days, and only coming to him to kiss and make out? As far things go, that was as far as Sehun could go. Intimacy was something he considered sacred. Intense. Emotional. He could not perform any act, when she had displayed such detachment from him. It did not feel right, and he most certainly was not going to allow her to do anything. Taking a sip from his mug, he watched as she smiled down on her phone. She was always full of euphoria with that device in her hands, although so sullen and sulky whenever it was away. Was he that boring? He was beginning to question himself; nothing will fancy his thoughts other than a little music. Playing a precise track on his vinyl player; smiling as the music filled the room, and created a less tense atmosphere. He jumped his way beside her, his arms hugging around her waist, and his chin perched over her collarbones. For once, she had laughed due to his actions, and he felt as if he had won the world—at that current moment—till it came tumbling down the very second it had risen. His chest had felt so heavy. He had briefly captured a sight of whom she was texting, and his heart began to tear itself apart. He tried to pretend he did not see it.. he tried.. He could not stomach it. No. His stomach felt far too sick. Getting off the couch, he had to hurry his way to the bathroom, and the sounds of his throat coaxing the bile of his disgust to - at last - leave his body in the form of nothing but vomit. His eyes soaked with tears, his body shuddered with the force, and he had felt absolutely dizzy. Flushing the toilet, he was shrouded with his own countless fears circling around him. As if he was a joke.

As if he was nothing. As if she had won, and broke his heart. He was shocked to see her still on the couch, and did not even lift a muscle to come check on him. He could not bear it, anymore. This had gotten out of control, and Sehun needed to set the record straight. He felt a sense of power yet weakness merged into one as he slammed his hands on the table. He thought the sound was loud, thus jumping himself. The woman had only - barely - turned her eyes his direction. Boredom encasing her features, and he wanted to be swallowed whole by the earth. “Aerin,” He spoke, a hoarse voice, and he surely looked pitiful. Aerin, on the other hand, did not dare to even react with a semblance of sympathy. “What?” She inquired; voice low as if she was irked to be called during her fun hours with whomever she was texting. Sehun could not keep this relationship going, if he had do to all the work to keep it stable. “What are you doing—? Why don’t you ever smile at me, anymore? What have I ever done to cause you so much harm?” Sehun’s words had rued the day they spoke. The lady opposing him had sat upright, and clasped her hands together. Crossing her legs, and staring at him with her sharp eyes. She knew how to flip him under her will, and she was aware of it. “What are you talking about, Sehunnie~?” “When have I ever changed?” “What do you mean like before?” She had cornered him with questions that had him doubting, if he should have ever started this conversation with her. She knew how to play her cards, and she played them right. She would stand up, propel to him, and that prompted that same vicious smile during that date night. He knew what this had meant, and her hands had only reached to his throat. Her long nails grazing over his jugular vein. Words so cold that they left him shivering. “Would you die for me?” She would whisper, beside the shell of his ear. Straddling his thighs, she sat, and she proceeded to reprimand him for ever opening his mouth. “You.. you don’t get it,” Sehun uttered out with lips shut tight by a kiss so violent. He had pushed her off him with an instinctive reaction. His eyes shooting wide—hurrying towards her, and apologising, if he had hurt her. His shove was not violent, yet he was more concerned about her than the well of himself. “I’m fine, fucker,” She cursed out. Her anger had began to increment, and Sehun was growing afraid. He had not known what to do, stepping aside—back—he felt weak. “You’re so fucking pathetic. How do you even live life like this?” Sehun shuddered. He was not weak. He was weak for her. He allowed himself to open his heart for her, but— “in case your stupid eyes didn’t notice, yes, I’m having a fucking affair since you won’t ever fuck me,” There it was. His heart had been stabbed. Penetrated. Protruding blood. Tears trickling down his visage, and the woman had only smiled wider. Walking towards him till he was pressed against the wall. “You’re not a real man. You don’t know how to treat a lady right, either~I bet you’re fucking gay.” Was the last thing before she had left him in his apartment. Hurt. Lost. Confused. Emotional turmoil. The emptied bottles of various alcohols had spread across the coffee table, and Sehun knew better than to cope with substances. He did not know what to do. He could not call his best friend. He felt absolutely useless, and nothing had made sense to him. Was he truly less of a man for not wanting to make love so quickly into a relationship? He was doubting his well state—he had to call Jongin, before he succumb to worse tactics of dealing with the heartbreak. “Hello?” A kind voice came through the speakers of his phone. Sehun could not reply. He could barely see anything, without it doubling in size or silhouette. His head pounded, he stenches of alcohol, and his hair was a mess that could not be tamed. “Hello?!” The voice had grown concern. Jongin had been clearly affected by the silence coming from Sehun’s end, and whatever it is—there was a shuffling sound on Jongin’s end. Sehun could not tell what it was. “I’m coming over, Tokki. Stay still.” The call had ended. Sehun sunk himself against the counter, and his knees grew wobbly. He could barely stand, and he was ruminating over what Aerin said. She is openly saying that she was cheating on him. Openly. She had no heart or care for how he would react about it. He saw that text that mocked his inexperience, and how his kisses must have been like kissing a wall. Those comments have hurt a little more than they should. Every time that he remembers her face when she said that, he would want to down another glass—but he was stopped by the sound of the door unlocking. It must be Jongin. It must be the only person that could understand how he had felt—without peer pressuring him into anything. Almost as if light had cascaded itself down into his rather dark and grim status. Sehun’s eyes were heavy, the doubling of Jongin’s figure had confused him, and he had to lean his body against the counters—trying to balance himself. “Sehun!” A voice called out. It did not feel close. It felt far. Was he perceiving the world a little too late? What was happening to him? “Y..Yes,” He managed to say with tears shuffling down his already damp face—a touch had supported his body. His eyes blinking out the blur, and his breath stenches of alcohol. He hated how pathetic and pitiful he must have looked. “Here, here,” The same voice had said; more clear now with the close proximity. Sehun tried to clear his conscience, yet it only whispered to him about the lost fragments of his love for that woman. The woman who revealed her filthy behaviours, yet had the very same audacity to leave him. He did not understand—but he was drunk. Too drunk to make sense of the world. “Jongin..?” Sehun quietly said. His body now laid down on the couch, his hand reaching to gently caress the man’s face—staring at him—he could not make up his features. His eyes were squinted and puffy—bloodshot—he swallowed thickly. “I.. I feel like.. I died...and..” He could not continue. The pounding headache had completely taken over him. Jongin had frowned. It was not easy to see Sehun like this. Getting off the edge of the couch, he had fished for a glass to pour water into. Perhaps, that could clear the man’s mind a little bit more. “Take your time, love... it will be okay,” Jongin said with a serious tone cowering his usual kind one into the backseat. Sehun’s hand had laid over his temple; feeling the sweat form tremendously. He only felt weaker. Prone to breakage, and slowly accepting that fact; the quicker he would recover from this pain. Jongin did not want to fall victim to his anger. He was aware of how much it does take to break Sehun like this. What had happened? He was growing so insanely worried, and his anger fuelled up his desire to break something—but he resisted. Placing the glass down on the coffee table, he slipped his hand under Sehun’s nape, and slowly eased him to sit up. Smiling briefly, trying to bring some warmth into the man’s stoic expression—hollow eyes—even. “Here. Drink some water, I will keep your pill by your bed, okay? I am staying over,” Jongin said as he handed Sehun the glass of water, and did not let go of it; the tremors that rushed through Sehun’s body were quite violent. Sehun’s eyes would stare back at the man’s, his body reacting to the cold glass in a frenzy—and he was glad that Jongin had kept his grip on the glass. Inhaling through his nose, he slowly began to take a sip—it turned into a gulp—and he was chugging it down in no less than a nanosecond. Feeling that rush of cold liquid rush through his body, and give him a new sense of refreshment—Sehun was certain that he needed that a little more than anything. “Thank you,” He endeavoured a small smile towards his friend, his hand reaching to pat on his shoulders, and he shortly sunk into the couch. How did home feel so suffocating? Why did he feel as if he did not belong, here—? He lived here. It did not feel real to him. Being pulled out of his daze, he did not particularly appreciate it. “Sehun. What happened? You called me, and said absolutely nothing,” Jongin’s voice had broken the unsettling silence between the pair, and Sehun nearly was startled into a flinch—yet he remained still. Almost as if his body could not react, anymore. He felt as if was not here—anymore. “She.. cheated,” The taste of alcohol has enticed the nausea into his body, once more, and he could not handle it. “She ... voluntarily did it, unapologetically... she ..” It became too real. It was not a stupid nightmare, anymore. It was reality, and his friend deserved to know. “She.. left me after patronising me about it..” His throat dried up. He would try to fiddle with the empty glass, and his eyes would wander. He did not want to think about this, yet thinking about it is all that he did. Lost in a paradox, and caught in a dilemma. He loves her. Well, he must learn to unlove her. He cannot love somebody who had strife in their heart. “I.. I cannot—“ Tears sprout out of his ducts, and they felt so painful. He cried so much that his eyes could - languidly - handle the torment it brought to them. “Sehun—take your time, I’m listening,” Jongin had seated himself beside him. Scooting closer, and pulling his body against him. His palms would rub the length of his spine, and his eyes would watch his friend’s reactions. Jongin had so much hate in his heart for Sehun’s girlfriend, yet he was halted in his thoughts by Sehun’s words.

“I cannot hate her,” He uttered. “She was good to me.. for the most of it, I think..” He was perplexed. “She ... she was mine at the wrong time. I wanted her heart.. her deepest secrets... what makes her laugh.. what she liked to eat the most,” He knew it all. He even knew what time of the day is her favourite, yet she remembered nothing about him. “Yet she only loved me for my body—resorting me to nothing. Nothing but flesh and bones. Nothing but a walking reminder that she is dating a decently looking guy, and that breaks me. I loved her for her, but she loved what I could not offer,” Sehun tried to hold back, but Jongin encouraged him to let it all out. “And she can not afford to talk to me, anymore. It’s final.” And with that, Sehun had closed off the windows to his heart. A strong, concrete, thick wall had gathered around his heart in his slumber, and he knew what to do in the morning. Submerged under the thick waters of anxiety and blinded by love, he had forgotten how the pull was drowning him, further. He was magnetised by her. She was a force. She took him. Her effect on him was astronomical. She was the pinnacle of perfection, and immaculate heart—but things do not prove to be what they are. Perfection is not... perfect. Flaws brought him to open his eyes. Catharsis had found its way to him. He had cleansed himself off her pain. No. He was not weak for being more careful. No. He is not weak for closing the doors of love on the potential lovers in the near future—he wanted to be ready. Clawing their way into his reveries, he was lost. Unable to fixate himself during the lectures, and he caught a sight of her. A sickening smile on her face, and her voice absolutely deafening; heedless, he was longing for one more conversation. He noticed her fleeing, he noticed the fleeting glances, and he noticed the notifications on his phone going off. As if she had thought that she could pull onto his heartstrings, and leave with closure. Sehun had been always a compassionate man, and he would not resort to anything that could - possibly - hurt another. There was no footing to be lost. He stood high, before her, his energy utterly different than the night before. “Ms. Go,” The dapper one had said. His voice holding a hefty, potent, and confident flair to it. Understandably, Aerin was taken off guard. Her doe eyes widening, and she chewed on the tips of her acrylic nails—meekly, she answered. “Yes..?” Oh, how the tables have turned. Sehun did not entertain the conversation too much. He wanted it - over - the second it had commenced. “It is over,” He said. Watching as she swiftly responded. “As if that was not obvious, fucker,” Trying to regain her status as the superior in the conversation—but it was in vain. Sehun’s visage remained stoic. Cold. Almost as if all the light that was erupting onto his moonlit skin had dissipated into nothingness. “Keep your filthy language, I will not participate in that low level,” The man riposted. His eyes falling to the necklace that he had bought her, her donned in it, and he grew that bitter taste on his tongue. Not now. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, virgin—what the fuck do you want from me?” The lady had grew angrier by the second. Sehun’s reactions remained stagnant. “I want you to understand that I loved you for you. I never cared about your social status, your looks, or your actions—I never wanted it to be superficial. I wanted to love every inch of you, yet you tore every inch of me,” Sehun’s words had appeared to have had an effect on her; resulting in her silence. “I thought of our future together—I loved you. I wanted to go on more dates, I wanted to know more about you—yet you suddenly lost all your interest in me the very moment I had rejected you; that night you stayed over,” Sehun stepped a little closer, his towering height had finally inflicted its effect. “And I accepted that. I thought... maybe, she needed more time to adjust to me not being very comfortable with intimacy so quickly—you said how much you loved my mind, but your hands have always been adjacent to my hips—you do not even know what my favourite drink is, you do not even know what my last name is—do you?” Aerin looked puzzled. The Sehun before her was not the same subservient man that she used to stomp on. She had tried numerous tactics to guilt him, yet he had never been this way. She emotionally blackened him. He had completely changed, and she was scared. All it took was infidelity? Her cherubic lips were tucked into her mouth. She chewed, chewed, and chewed. Slowly, blood seeped out, and she could not speak. “Look.. what you made me do..” His former lover had said; rummaging for her tissues, and trying to escape this confrontation. Sehun did not let her. She needed to hear it all. Sehun needed her to know exactly what damages she had caused, and he quickly said. “I made you do nothing,” He quickly responded. His eyes pitying the red that matched her already smudged lipstick. “What about the time you shoved me? What about the time you emotionally blackmailed me in order to bruise your skin..? Thinking that I was too weak to give you hickeys.. thinking I was nothing, if I did not perform any carnal activities with you—does it not count?” She shook her head—she could not accept the fact that she had hurt him. She did it on purpose, yet she could not deal with not being the victim. “You made me bleed! Look at my lips!” Sehun’s eyes, for the first time, they rolled to the back of his skull. “Aerin. Thank you for being the reason of the birth of my resilience. Farewell.” Sehun had turned on his heel, and ignored the grip that tightened onto the sleeve of his suit jacket. Not looking back. He continued forward, and his eyes never scanned that beautiful face with those doe eyes, ever again. Love has been a topic long forgotten since that day. He had dreamt of the idea of love, but the mere mention of succumbing himself into the abyss of being controlled, manipulated, and questioning his worth did not seem appealing. He wanted to ready himself for the one. For the one that will light fire in his heart, and for the one that would hold him tight. Let him see what it truly felt like for his efforts to be reciprocated. Love is blind—and his heart desired for that connection. That experience had taught Sehun a lot. He never resorted to alcohol ever again. He had learnt to keep himself positive, and to reconcile his emotions better. He had wanted to give the world kindness, and offer the world a hand that will hold. An ear that listens, and a heart that understood. Taking the path to become a therapist appeared immaculate, and the insatiable appetite for knowledge had proceeded his studies. Thank you, Go Aerin... I, now, understand myself better.

[ldybluerse]

The Nice and Accurate Tale of Beauty and the Beast

Chapter Six: Beauty and the Beast Good Omens AU

There is little for a Fallen to do when they are not getting into trouble; they are only really meant for trouble-making.  Not to worry though, most Fallen love making and getting into trouble, they love it even more when they get other people involved in their troublesome trouble.  

All Fallen, but one.  

Crowley didn’t mind the idea of trouble or even making smaller amounts of it, nothing that would really hurt someone unless that person was inclined towards harm already.  Crowley also was not a fan of going into town during some peak trouble-making hours (when the shops are busy or at night when there was less people out but more nefarious sorts of trouble are lurking around).  

This meant that Crowley had a lot of time on his hands.  He dedicated his extra time towards the gardens in and around his castle.  As he did not have anyone else to speak to most days, Crowley would talk to the plants.  Though, perhaps “talk” was too gentle of a term for what Crowley did.  He put the fear of Crowley into the plants, making them the most lush, colorful, and vibrant plants in all of France.  His roses were extraordinarily terrified, which is why they always minded their thorns and never curled a petal.  The colors of the roses were beyond anything anyone would find outside of the greenhouse and the scent of those roses could be considered intoxicating to the human nose.

But it was not the roses that Aziraphale saw first.  It wasn’t their sweet fragrance that he took note of right away.  It was not even the perfect display of colors and verdant leaves that gave Aziraphale reason to pause just inside the door.  The roses were the furthest thing from his mind as he gave his full, undivided attention, to the mass on the floor amongst the flowers.

Crowley was asleep, his serpentine lower body coiled in a loose circle while his upper body draped lazily over a portion of his lower half.  Aziraphale watched as slow and even breaths moved the large Naga’s chest in a pattern that marked Crowley as asleep before Aziraphale’s eyes flicked to the thick lashes resting against a speckled cheek.  Being careful to not make a sound, he approached taking in every detail that he could of the Naga before him.

Aziraphale admired the long mess of red curls that spilled over pale and slender shoulders.  A smile playing at the curve of his lips as he noticed the freckles that blemished those shoulders. 

He studied the way that sleep softened Crowley’s angular face, took away harsh lines of unease and distrust.  It made what was striking, tender instead.  From closed off to relaxed.  From beast to beauty.

Aziraphale noted the lack of wings, meaning that Crowley could easily “put them away”, as it were, if he wished.  The Favoured’s smile made a small appearance as he thought of the earlier display with them out was all for intimidation and show.  With lazy strides he walked his way slowly around the Fallen, admiring the sheen of obsidian scales in his magic light.  Crowley’s hair had tumbled in a way that Azirphale could see how the black snake scales continued up his back, tapering as it ascended his spin.  He wondered if the scales of his tail were as smooth as a snake’s?  

Was his hair as soft as it looked?

The Favoured should, strictly speaking, strive for asceticism, a life of rigorous routines and self-denial.  And while Aziraphale could pretend that he was like that, the truth is, he is a hedonist.  Indulging in earthly pleasures never gets in Aziraphale’s way of doing what he thinks is best and being a helping hand as much as he can, yet it means he was far from able to avoid temptation.  He collected books, pretending that he sold them was his cover story to the higher ranks that helped cover his love of “material objects”.  The utter joy and delight he gained from reading, how utterly enchanting the written word was.

Pretending to be human meant that Aziraphale had a reason to enjoy food, sip all manner of drinks, relax in beautifully crafted clothing.  He loved it all.  Which should be enough to tell anyone that Aziraphale was not very good at resisting temptations.  Especially small ones, that meant no one was harmed over.  

Aziraphale’s hand raised before he was fully aware of it.  He hesitated, withdrawing his hand back and shaking his head a fraction.  As if needing a leash on the wayward right hand, Aziraphale held his fingers with the left; thumb and pointer playing with the gold signet ring on Aziraphale’s right pinky finger.  He looked Crowley over again, once more noting he was indeed asleep before he allowed his hand to reach up and graze the fire locks.

The corners of Aziraphale’s eyes crinkled as his brows raised, yes, the hair was as soft as it looked, if a bit messy.  His smile was no longer hiding as he gently touched the Fallen’s curls.  Tenderly he brushed back the hair to get a better look at all of Crowley’s sleeping face.  His fingers were light as they tucked some of the long strands behind a pointed ear, his fingers lingering over the snake tattoo that rested before Crowley’s right ear.  

~*~*~*~

Crowley came awake to the soft strokes of someone brushing his hair.  The temptation to allow this to continue as long as possible was too great.  Keeping his eyes closed, Crowley relished in the tender sensation.  It had been so long since someone touched him so gently, so long in fact he couldn’t pinpoint when the last time such a thing had happened.  He was certain he never had his hair brushed for him since he became a Fallen, living in isolation.  Crowley questioned whether someone had ever brushed his hair even before his curse.  Favoured were not the touchy-feely type.  

He decided that he didn’t want to think about the past or how lonely he had been, instead he would focus on the soothing hands playing in his hair.  There was no tugging or harsh scrapes against his scalp, even when the Favoured came across a tangle in his hair, it was worked out with the utmost care.  He was at ease in that moment, Crowley should have been panicked, at the very least worried; he was in a vulnerable position with his supposed enemy extremely close at hand.  He should get mad because the Favoured clearly did not follow orders to stay out of the West Wing.

Crowley couldn’t bring himself to be anything but in relaxed bliss.

When the brushing stopped, he almost let out an audible whimper because it was over far too soon.  The brush was replaced by deft hands that was working the hair.  Crowley could feel that something was happening but had no clue as to what the Favoured was doing.  “What are you up to…” It was in that moment Crowley remembered he did not actually know the other man’s name.  A few strangled sounds later, after Crowley was done tripping over his tongue, he tried again, “What are you up to Angel?” 

Aziraphale was surprised by the nickname, Angel, what a strange thing to call him.  Humans created the mythology of Angels and Demons to explain the strange things that happen when Fallen and Favoured are about.  Who is to say that Favoured were not Angels but by another name.  Still, it was an odd thing to call him just because of the human stories.  “I am braiding your hair Dear.”

Dear?!  Crowley had not expected an endearment in return.  “Yes, well… uh...ngk…” Crowley was worse than tongue-tied as his brain short-circuited and left him without any response at all.

Aziraphale was enjoying how Crowley’s pointed ears turned as red as his hair when he blushed.  Who knew something he called everyone would have such an impact on Crowley?  “When was the last time you tended to your hair?  It was in such a state.”

“I think a couple of days, I had a long nap before my “mail delivery”.  I didn’t think I needed to brush my hair before I left.”

“Ah yes, the matter of you delivering, what I am hoping is medicine.  Although that Baker child got sick so suddenly she may have gotten ill due to poison.” Suddenly the hands that were styling his hair stopped.  They were barely touching him but Crowley could feel the stiffness.  “You are not at fault for people getting sick are you?”  Aziraphale was horrified that he had just now thought of such a thing.

“Of course not!  I have nothing to do with anyone getting sick.  And I don’t hurt kids, my kind might do that sort of thing but that isn’t something I would do.”  Crowley glanced as best he could over his shoulder to where Aziraphale was standing.  

“Oh… you can hardly blame me for being suspicious you are a Fallen.  A working apothecary that belongs to a Fallen would produce poisons, not medicines.  That is why I wanted to ask you.”

“And you would believe me if I told you I didn’t poison random people?”

“Well, no?  I supposed I should not.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“I have no reason to believe or trust you.”

Crowley decided he didn’t want to hear how much of a beast he was because of the curse.  “And why have you been poking about the West Wing, when I expressly told you not to.”  

“You must realize the best way to get someone to do something you do not want them to do, is to tell them not to do it.  Besides, I wanted to know what you were up to and hiding.  Whether or not there was a cause for concern.”

“Of course there is cause for concern.  It’s not like I am a nice person.”

“Mmhmm… do you mind terribly if I pluck a few roses?”

“You’ll do what you want anyway, so why ask?”

“You can hardly blame me for being curious,” Crowley felt the loss of heat from the Favoured’s body as he stepped away and towards some of the roses.  “We have just met and did not speak much…”

“You wanted to stop talking,” Crowley interrupted.  He received a raised brow and stern look for that one.

“Yes, well, we hardly spoke.  It is my job to know what you are doing and to stop you.  I see no reason to stop you from healing sick children, as I now know that is what you are doing.”  Aziraphale walked back once he selected several beautiful white roses that would accent Crowley’s hair and eyes.

Crowley stiffened ever so slightly when the other was back, his fingers working with his hair once more, weaving the flowers through the tamed mane.  

“Besides, I found myself rather bored.  There is not much for me to do besides explore.  Were I not your “prisoner”, I would happily be out of your hair and back at my bookshop.”

Crowley made an undignified sound, “We both know you are no prisoner Angel.  So there must be another reason you are staying.”

“Curiosity.  About you, you do not act like other Fallen I have come across or heard about.  Ah, there we are.  All done, and such a lovely sight.”  Aziraphale beamed as he looked over his work.  “I have been rather rude, as I have not properly introduced myself yet.  I am Aziraphale.”

Crowley took several long moments for his brain to process everything Aziraphale had said in those short few sentences.  “Yes..well.. Uh… You own a bookstore?”

“Yes, it is my disguise as I investigate the Fallen activity in this area.”

“You need a disguise?”

“If I wish to blend in with the humans, I should act like one.”

“People don’t notice things Angel.  They happily go about their lives without ever noticing odd things happening.  I suppose this means you like books?”

——————————————————

I regret nothing.

[enkisstories]

The android cemetery (Chapter 5)

Daniel was already at home and out of uniform when Gavin entered the two-story apartment.  The android was lounging on the couch in the floor/downstairs living room combo. He wore a short-sleeved button-up shirt in red and blue jeans, a welcome break from his preferred upper-class butler’s style. There was a bit of a snob in Gavin’s boyfriend, a trait the man had never expected to find himself drawn to. But attraction obviously followed its own rules, especially if one of the attracted in question didn’t even have hormones.

Daniel was holding his phone in one hand and tickling Loki, Gavin’s blue-point ragdoll cat, under the chin with the other. Another cat, a black Somali-mix called Thor, was lazing stretched out on the couch. The tom made sure not to touch the android. Thor accepted, even demanded, the occasional petting from Daniel, but he would not purr for the still somewhat new family member. Only after Gavin had closed the door behind himself did Thor jump down and proceeded to circle his returned “mama”’s legs. There was no competition from the other tom for now. Yes, viewed in this light that new biped had something going for it. The more time Loki spent with it, the more time there was for just Thor and Mama! Gavin’s lips formed a silent “Phone - who?”. The answer came in the form of Morse-code from Daniel’s LED: “Emmas-stop-therapist”.

Ah, right, Emma Phillips. That was something new. Not just was a new boyfriend living in the apartment, along with Daniel Gavin had acquired an extended family. Before Daniel it had only ever been himself, his cats and the parents at the holidays. There had not been a shortage of sex, but as the man had explained to Daniel last year, beings friends wasn’t a prerequisite for that. Boyfriends were a hassle anyway, because sometimes they turned out crime lord Jacques Villareal’s right-hand men and tried to shoot Gavin. Admittedly that had happened only once, but it still stung years later, because for the first time since college Gavin had actually harbored feelings for that one.

Of course there had always been Tina Chen and both of them had fully expected to end up together out of habit, because it wasn’t fun to be all alone when you were old and with only a slim pension, because androids had forced you out of employment. But here Gavin Reed was, in a steady relationship, and Daniel had promised to help Tina find a boyfriend of her own.

Gavin slipped out of shoes and jacket. Tip-toeing around Thor he went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. It contained mostly fresh ingredients nowadays instead of a pinned-on list of food delivery services across the city: Seafood for the organics and thirium sherbet for Daniel. For all their efficiency, androids were not perpetuum mobiles. Once a month they had to replenish their lifeblood. Many deviants, especially those who were openly living among humans, had adopted to the practice of consuming smaller doses during regular mealtimes. Daniel had tried that, too, but realized that he enjoyed watching his human eat a lot more than doing it himself. And of course there were those times when he was fed up with humanity and would gulp down the blue blood right out of the bottle to prove a point. Gavin got a can of beer from the fridge and a strip of bubble gum from a basket on top of it. Then he returned to the living room where Daniel had just finished his conversation. The man slumped down on the couch opposite to his partner and teased Loki with the bubble gum. Just when the cat jumped for it, Gavin tossed the strip towards Daniel, then caught Loki and put him on the floor gently. You absolutely didn’t want a cat on the sofa when you were about to cuddle feet to feet with your partner. In fact, you absolutely, positively did not want a cat with you when you were presenting your naked toes anywhere and for any reason.

Gavin then flicked open the beer. For a few precious minutes he let the world do its own thing. There was beer and tickles and the cats bouncing over each other on the floor and Daniel forming shapes out of his bubblegum that other than him only Gandalf had managed with his smoke pipe in the first Lord of the Rings movie. This was home, this was bliss, this was life going Gavin’s way for once. He had laid claim on what he had wanted and would not give it back anytime soon!

Eventually there was no more beer and the gum had went to a place where it would be the maid’s problem tomorrow. They smiled at each other.

“To quote Emma: Stupid therapist and her ideas”, Daniel remarked, referring to the talk he just had. “I swear, if she knew who I really was she’d want me to tell Emma!”

“Kid’s got to step in line”, Gavin replied. “’cuzz Captain Allen already called dibs on that.”

“The sucker did what?!”

Whatever peeve Daniel had with the therapist was forgotten over the news. Gavin recounted what had transpired at the DPD, finishing with: “Yumiko gave me funny looks all the time. She suspects I butchered the archive android for your new skin module.”

“Considering what you took out of there when all you needed was a bloody broom I wouldn’t put that past you, either!” Daniel said, laughing with that raspy industrial noise androids produced at such an occasion. It made him sound like a chain smoker. “But I wouldn’t worry overmuch. My files are in order. Everything’s there: no irregularities at first initialization, delivery to the cyberlife store, sold to my first owners, then you buying me from them after a year, then getting lended to the DPD and finally our accident on Lake Erie followed by the android museum buying me and putting me back in shape.”

“I dunno… I said on occasion that I found you in the trash.”

“That might not be a contradiction. My first owner might not have liked you grabbing for free what he had just thrown away and charged you.”

“I would have hit him, had he tried that!”

Daniel winked when he replied: “Maybe you beat him out of his senses, but the resulting hospital bill would not show up in my file, right?” He flung himself forward and into the other’s arms. “You know that between the two of us I am the good guy!”

That claim caused them both to laugh. They kissed, then laughed some more and then Daniel tried to caress Gavin’s nose with his. He was met with an unwilling “Unh!”. Maybe it was the plastic nose feeling weird, maybe it was the childishness of the act or something else entirely, but Gavin hated it. Daniel adjusted his position for them to end up sitting in each other��s lap, forehead to forehead, arms around the other’s shoulders.

“The Underground Airline’s best hacker doctored my file”, Daniel said reassuringly after letting some time pass. “The very best.”

Gavin sighed. It wasn’t a sound of pleasure.

“What?”

The human grabbed his partner. He pushed Daniel backwards a little, stared him into the eyes as if looking for some sense to be found in the space behind them and when he could locate none barked:

“Your “very best” is a gaming bot, for fuck’s sake! It can make mistakes!”

Daniel shook his head. “I know that’s what she initialized as. But now Yuki is tracking the author’s keyboard strokes as the woman writes the intermediate chapters for Beasts of Fire.”

To Daniel’s surprise Gavin displayed no sense of wonder at that feat. Instead he was looking as if he was about to get flayed alive.

“But doesn’t that mean Yuki has to read that stuff?” the human uttered. “Why would any sane soul want to do that?”

Daniel playfully hit Gavin.

“Your taste in literature is abominable!”

Equally playfully dodging the “assault” Gavin replied: “I do not have a taste in literature!”

“I noticed”, Daniel laughed.

They were sitting next to each other on the couch now, the wall-high balcony window in their back and the new TV on the wall right in front of them. Gavin bent forward, elbows on his knees, head tucked between his fists. Daniel to the contrary leaned back and placed his feet onto the couch table.

“Okay”, Gavin started again, “let’s say everything is in order as far as Dean is concerned. So what did Super Smash Sister do with Daniel’s file? Did she leave it as is, creating two androids with the same DNA, or did she delete it? Well?”

Daniel jerked forward. His gaze met Gavin’s as the other was raising his head and while the human shot him an angry “See? Told you!” expression, Daniel’s own slowly changed to one of terror.

There was no need to answer the last question. Since there was no more PL600 down in the archive, Yuki Villareal would simply have deleted the accompanying file. Probably the whole case file, too. While humans who remembered Daniel having been there were all around the DPD!

“Yuki hasn’t… she wouldn’t…” Daniel sputtered.

“Of course she would! Yuki also had to hack Camp Five’s security, all in one night! And for that stunt there were no Hank and Connor to help out with passcodes. With a real challenge ahead of it, the little gold farming bot went the easy route in your case!”

“Yes.” Daniel slowly sacked towards his partner, who slung his arms around the android and hugged him tight. “Yes, you’re probably right.”

The Underground Airline’s hacker had been in a hurry due to some real minor stuff like Daniel, Gavin and Markus having had a shootout in the backyard of Brindleton Bay’s movie theatre...

“It’s all Markus’s fault!” Gavin claimed. “Idiot homeschooled arts major…”

“Well, what do you expect? He’s Connor’s great-something grandfather! Think of everything that’s weird about Connor and then remember that he is the improved Markus!”

“Yeah.” Gavin nodded. “That explains a lot, actually.”

Daniel picked up a cat at random. He put it on both their laps and started stroking. After a while the furball started tearing into Gavin’s upper leg with dedication.

“I shouldn’t have said that about Connor”, Daniel mused. “He’s dedicated… loyal… By right I should fall head over heels for him, but… eww.”

“Eww, plastic prick”, Gavin agreed.

“But he’s also my friend”, Daniel insisted. “Now. Yours, too.”

“No way!”

“I was right about the five of us becoming a team, I’m right about this, too.”

“Whatever. Let’s focus on the missing PL600. We need a replacement and quickly!”

The moment he had said it, Gavin cursed himself for having voiced his thoughts. The easiest solution to their dilemma would be to buy a pre-owned PL600 on e-bay, switch it off, shoot it a few times, drop it off a roof, run its legs over with the family car and put the resulting mess into the archive quietly. And of course Daniel was well aware of that, because he said: “You are not thinking of what I think you are!”

Gavin could have slapped himself that moment. His too quick trap be damned! Had the detective just kept it shut, he could have gone through with the plan tonight, using an urgent call from work as an excuse. Daniel and Tina would have went to the basketball game the trio had planned to watch, while he’d corrected his mistake from one and a half years ago. But that door was closing even as Gavin had spotted it in the corridor.

“Does it matter what I think, if I don’t go through with it?” he growled.

Disturbed in his bliss Loki jumped off the couch. He proceeded to claw away on it to regain his mental balance, only to get his claws detached from the fabric by the two bipeds. The cat turned once around itself and then decided to chase Thor onto the windowsill.

“‘sides”, Gavin followed through, “people say I look like Kamski. If roles were reversed and you needed a dead Gavin, you’d beat in Kamski’s skull and sell him to Allen as me!”

“I guess so”, Daniel had to admit. “Unlike PL600s there’s only two of you, though.”

“Moot point. You don’t want me to make use of all those PL600s. Come to think of it…” Gavin’s face brightened when what he perceived a near-genius idea came to him. So, basically what he thought of all his ideas. ”What if it was already dead?” the man whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“Think old androids! The hand-me-downs, or the ones destroyed in accidents, any android that cannot get sold or gifted away anymore or whose owner is simply too lazy to consider any form of re-use – where do you think they all end up?”

“Ugh.”

“Exactly!”

Both of them voiced it simultaneously, one sounding appalled, the other triumphant: “The solid waste landfill!”

[envision-fandom]

He’s a Keeper Pt3

Oliver Wood Fanfiction

Couple: Reader x Oliver

Pt2  Pt4

You handed your Hogsmead slip over to Filch and shifted uncomfortably as he stared back and forth between you and your parents signatures. 

He nodded in approval and you joined the group of excited students, trying to look over their heads to find Oliver, who you had not yet laid eyes on. 

You pulled at your jumper nervously, you couldn’t believe you were finally going on a date with Oliver Wood! It almost seemed too good to be true, which made you start worrying that he had probably stood you up and when the group of students started to make their way towards the exit, you sulked back and tears threatened to escape your eyes. 

You were about to turn and run back into the castle, when strong hands grasped onto your shoulders and turned you around into a hug “I’m so sorry I’m late Y/N. I didn’t mean to make you worry.” 

You sobbed in relief and quickly wiped away the tears before he could notice you had been crying and smiled up at him, slightly shocked that he had hugged you. 

You both untangled yourself awkwardly, a bright blush on your faces and walked beside each other down the snowy path. 

“Why were you so late?” You ask, breaking the threatening silence. 

He pulls his hands through his hair and looks down at you guiltily “I overslept.” 

You nodded in response, getting the feeling that he was lying to you, but if he wasn’t, then you were upset that he clearly wasn’t as excited for this date as you were, as you were up two hours before to get ready. 

You didn’t mean to let such a petty thing ruin your date, but you couldn’t release the awkward feeling that Oliver wasn’t as invested as you were and ended up sulking the rest of the walk to Hogsmead. 

Oliver senses the awkward tension and before walking into the main town, he places his hand on your shoulder and turns you to face him “Have I done something wrong?” He asks and after seeing the genuine concern on his face, you feel slightly guilty for being mad at him. 

You sigh and stare into his eyes “I’m sorry. It’s nothing.” 

You wait for him to begin walking again, but he continues to stand there, looking at you “No it’s not nothing. Please tell me, I really want this to work, but I can’t if I don’t know what I’ve done.” 

You shift uncomfortably and finally confess how you felt. 

He laughs and looks away, once again running his hand through his hair “Ahh I knew I should have told you the truth, I just didn’t want to sound lame.” 

Your heart beats faster at the shock of finding out that he had lied to you. 

“I’m sorry Y/N, the real reason I was late was because I was trying to pick out an outfit and sort out my hair. I had to wash gel out of it several times, before having to just leave it natural after noticing I was late.”

He looks back down at you and smiles awkwardly. 

You smirked and then began laughing “I didn’t realise you were so worried about your appearance. You always look great to me.” 

You notice a blush form on his face, which causes your heart to beat faster. 

You begin walking again and your stomach instantly filled with butterflies when he slipped his large hand in yours. 

You were too embarrassed to look at each other, so began admiring the shop window displays. 

He looks over at Madam Pudifoot’s and asks if you want to go in. 

You look through the window at all the lovey dovey couples and raise your eyebrows “Wow you really have a lot to learn about me.” 

You drag him towards Zonko’s joke shop, you were always intrigued at their latest supplies. 

“Do you mind if we go in here instead?” 

This time it was his turn to raise his eyebrows “You really are an amazing girl and I wish I had noticed sooner.” 

You laugh together as you enter the store and walk directly into the Weasley twins, their arms filled with Zonko products. 

“Do my eyes deceive me or is that Oliver Wood...” Fred asks.

“With a girl?” George finishes and Oliver punches him in the arm playfully. 

“Hi Y/N.” They both address you at the same time and you smile in response. 

“Why are you bringing her here?” Fred rounded on Oliver. 

“Yeah you finally get a date and you bring her to a joke shop, you’re supposed to let her decide where to go.” George reprimands him. 

“As a matter of fact, she chose to come in here. I suggested Madam Pudifoot’s.” 

The twins bring their attention to you and stare at you dubiously “Wow Y/N, we knew after that Quidditch practice you were great...” Fred says. 

“But now we realise you are perfect!” George continues. 

“Date us instead!” The finish together a little too enthusiastically. 

Oliver hits them both over the head and puts his arm around your back defensively. 

“Back off guys, or I’ll have to kick you off the team.” He jokes and they physically back away. 

“Sorry Oliver, we won’t steal your date.” George says. 

“But if it ends disastrously make sure to come and find us Y/N, we will take care of you.” Fred addresses you and you can’t help but laugh. 

You notice Oliver frown, which causes you to laugh more and at the sight of your laugh he begins to smile in return. 

You look around the shop, a little too aware of Oliver's hand still resting on your hip and it was constantly sending shivers down your spine. 

You made your way out with a few purchases and began making your way over to Honeydukes.

“Are you cold?” He suddenly asks, after another shiver passed through you once he began stroking your side. 

“Err not reall-”

Before you can finish, Oliver removes his scarf and wraps it around your neck, pulling you closer. 

You look up into his eyes and notice him leaning down towards you. You couldn’t believe it! You were about to kiss the boy you had loved since first year. 

You closed your eyes in anticipation until you were interrupted by girlish squeals. 

You instantly jolted away from each other, a blush forming on both of your cheeks. 

You looked down at the floor awkwardly, already knowing where the source of the noise was coming from- Oliver’s fan club. 

They occasionally attended the Gryffindor training lessons, and always interrupted your studying with their squealing. 

But as it was winter, they hadn’t been down to the pitch in a while, clearly not as dedicated to Oliver as you were. 

“Hi Oliver, I didn’t think you would be coming to Hogsmead today.” One of the girls said, as she places her hand on his arm. 

“Yeah we’ve missed you.” Another one says and pushes you to the side, to get to his other arm. 

“But you’re here now, so wanna hang out?” The other one finishes, placing her arms around his neck. 

He smiles and you feel a stab of pain in your chest. 

You take this as your Que to leave and turn back towards the castle. 

“Sorry girls.” Oliver interrupts “But I’m on a date today, with Y/N.” 

He untangles himself from their grasp and holds onto your hand, preventing you from leaving. 

You sense the groups glares boring into you, but you couldn’t care less. The only thing you could focus on was how perfectly Oliver’s hand fit with yours. 

“And I’d appreciate it if you stopped grabbing onto me all the time.” He addresses them again “It’s only okay when Y/N does it.” 

He leads you down the snowy path towards Honeydukes, ignoring the complains of his fan club and smiles down at you, which you gratefully return. 

You purchased several chocolate frogs, to add to your card collection and a Berty’s box of Every flavour beans and waited for Oliver to get his sweets. 

As you made your way out of the shop, he once again took your hand in his as if you had been doing it forever. 

“Next stop the Three Broomsticks?” He asks and you nod your head enthusiastically. 

“Most definitely.” 

You sat in a corner booth and waved over to Oliver as he brought over your Butterbeers. 

You sipped at it, grateful for the warm drink and thanked Oliver. 

“So why were the Weasley’s so shocked that you were on a date? I mean clearly after bumping into your fan club you attract loads of girls. I thought you would have been on loads of dates before?” 

You notice him shift uncomfortably “Actually no. This is my first ever date.” 

You almost spit out your drink, but manage to swallow it and you begin to splutter “What? Why?” 

He raises his eyebrows and smirks at your reaction “Because I’ve spent my whole time focusing on my dream of becoming a professional quidditch player, so I’ve never really focused on girls- until now.” 

You stared at him in shock and listened intently whilst he continued “And that’s why I didn’t know what house you were in, not because it was you specifically, I’ve just never looked at any girls. But even then I checked you out a couple of times whilst you studied on the bleachers and I thought you were cute, except I had to force myself to just stay focused on my goal and didn’t let my mind wander.”

You were completely taken back. You had no idea how serious Oliver was about his dream and always thought he was a bit of a player. But after hearing this, it only made you like him more.

“What about you?” He asks, bringing you out of your shocked state. 

“Oh yeah, this is my first date too.” You confess. 

“May I ask why?” 

You smile at his formality “Of course you may, it’s because I’ve only ever been interested in one person, so always rejected anyone who asked me out.” 

He raises his eyebrows “Wow I feel honored and also slightly annoyed at myself that it has taken this long to take you on a date. So I’m sorry you’ve had to suffer a romance free school life because of me.” 

You smirk “It’s fine, as long as you make up for all of the dates that I have missed.” You flirt and he raises his glass in your direction. 

“I promise I will pay you back tenfold.” 

[afangirlsguidetofazza]

Sun in Scorpio: You constantly strive to keep your self-control and to resist external pressures. Your phlegm actually conceals unusual intense emotions. A hidden force that gives you an inclination for struggles, for difficult or extremist causes, inhabits you. You may display a sarcastic and caustic mind, and in the worst cases, you may be destructive. But your resistance abilities prove valuable when the situation goes awry. Scorpio does not mind the sign’s “bad reputation”, moreover, he is proud of it, he claims it and he scoffs at it. Most certainly, he has nothing to do with ordinary mortals. You are very sensitive to power struggles. You try to use your adversary and to combine opposing elements. You resort to scheming and to manipulation. You use a person to hit another and you use the latter to charm a third party. Scorpio is a fine strategist, a born politician. Far from breaking him down, adversity stimulates Scorpio’s creativity. Better than anyone, you can handle crises that imply fighting spirit, subtlety in confrontations and challenge. You express your powers to their fullest, you master the art of straightening out endangered situations and you dramatically reverse the interests at stake. Moon in Scorpio: They have the ability to see through anyone right to their innermost feelings. Can be disturbing/intriguing to people. Emotional drama fulfills them.  They want commitment. They may also expect their partner to give up something for them, fears betrayal. Can be jealous, possessive & self-indulgent. Yet they can be vulnerable, intelligent and ambitious. Creative. Selfless in love (to a fault). Mercury in Scorpio: passionate, outspoken, intuitive, and capable of sniffing out bullshit or seeing through a lie, observant, helpful, might seem skeptical. Tremendously favors success. Moral standards are questionable.  Venus in Scorpio: You are at war with your need to love so fiercely it could destroy you, and need to guard yourself against the pain that your past lovers subjected you to. You carry all of them around like ghosts that won’t let you fully sleep at night, but this new person is better and more promising. Yet every time they go to kiss you, you flinch because the only physical contact you’ve told yourself is possible is a fist. Mars in Capricorn: subdued, enjoys work with reliability, materialistic, need recognition for their efforts, skeptical, guarded to a fault. High sex drive, they like their sex sensual slow & conventional, they'll give what they get, can repress sexual appetite. Jupiter in Scorpio: Jupiter in Scorpio strengthens your emotional realm and your instinctive capacity to have more lasting and deeper feelings. Your sensuality and your sexuality are favored by this configuration. You may enjoy strokes of luck in the areas of finance, speculations, investments, and inheritances. More than anyone, you can deal with mysteries and anything linked to the unknown. Tenacious, passionate, and agile character. Since one cannot bear any form of constraint, one is determined to struggle for freedom, one's own as well as that of other people. Youth is plagued by hardships, but the sufferings underwent in early life turn into a powerful spur to later become a brilliant champion of law and social reforms. One may also be an excellent acrobat. Saturn in Libra: Inferiority complex with relationships, feels unlovable, breaks rules they set themselves (causes problems for romance). Must learn to take responsibility for their actions. Prone to kidney, intestinal, lower back issues. Serves others tirelessly. Uranus in Sagittarius:  Uranus in Sagittarius gives you the taste for feats and extraordinary adventures: as you are caught in the desire to discover, at any cost, you may become a hero, a conqueror, an explorer or, on the symbolic plane, a pioneer in such matters as philosophy, politics, economy or spirituality. Melancholic, accepting, and passive character. There is a strong probability that his wife abandons him. Instead of suffering in silence, he must make every effort order to win her back. For both genders, it is necessary to think thoroughly before getting married and start a family because this degree indicates that celibacy is more suitable. Neptune in Sagittarius: Nice, loyal, and reliable character. The hands are nimble, the legs, slender, and the general appearance, elegant. Success can be achieved in occupations requiring dexterity and precision such as fencing, music and all artistic disciplines, or prestidigitation. Owing to one's dedication and genuine kindness, one attracts many good friends. However, beneath warm and straightforward manners, one is very secretive. Pluto in Libra: Submissive, unambitious, and fatalistic character. One is resigned to follow the beaten path and to relegate personal aspirations on the back burner. For instance, one takes on the family business or embraces a career to abide by one's parents' wish instead of focusing on the matters one is really interested in. Artistic activities are a nice source of solace and contribute to counterbalance the dull routine.

North Node in Cancer - South Node in Capricorn: The constant fear or idea of lacking control in your life have you overtly exerting it in every facet you can find. Meticulously micromanaging and organizing won't always be the solution to your problems as anxiety may find you still continually running into yourself. Allow yourself to have time to attend to matters of the heart and try to rely on intuition as much as you fall back on logic. Some things are best unplanned. Chiron in Taurus: Feels a strong sense of neglect, whether it stems from emotional, material, mental or spiritual. Have cultivated their pain to a sense of comfortability that comes off borderline masochistic. Heals through the process of creating or building something. Ascendant in Leo (rising sign): A very lively and compassionate person, perhaps someone who is seen as dramatic or over the top. Underneath this you can be a bit cool and detached, never letting anyone get too close emotionally or know when they've hurt you. Great poker face. Magnetic & self-aware, always on stage (even when just relaxing at home), somewhat bossy, overestimate themselves, grand gestures very concerned with keeping appearances & etiquette, manipulative, power-hungry, cheerful, driven, luxurious, inspirational, and impulsive. 

Midheaven in Taurus: You are a conservative person, hard-working, and in fact slow but... very strong. You amass possessions slowly but steadily. It would be very surprising if around your forties, or often earlier, you did not have a comfortable bank account and some piece of real estate, which are your sources of pride.

You are particularly drawn to all occupations related to nature, real estate, finance, music, the performing arts, and pleasure. Indeed, you are very suitable for working as landscape gardener, cultivator, horticulturist, forest ranger, banker, bookkeeper, carpenter, architect, hotelier, cook, restaurant owner, singer, musician, sculptor, dressmaker, or actor.

(Milkstrology & Astrotheme)

[linoholic]

Coffee and Cats

Requested: Thank you so much for doing my request! The Hanse one! It's great and I enjoy it! I hope more people will request more victon scenarios because they need more appreciation on fanfic or scenarios form :) Oh if you're not busy, can you make the sequel of that scenario? Only if you're not busy and gladly do it tho. Thank you so much dear!

Pairing: Victon’s Do Hanse x Reader

Yay for creative titles!

Read the prequel to this here

After you and Hanse had revealed your feelings for each other, everything went back to normal. Well, excluding the giddy smiles on your faces and the abundant teasing from the other boys anyway. The rest of the day passed by quicker than you wanted it to and before you knew it, it was time for you to head home. That night you hardly got any sleep. You and Hanse were constantly texting back and forth. It was only when it turned half one in the morning that you forced the rapper to get some sleep.

The next day, you woke up bright and early; dedicating more time than you usually would to your morning routine. While texting each other the previous night you and Hanse had decided on having a brunch date the next morning. You still couldn’t believe that you could say that. You were going on a date with Hanse. Hanse had asked you on a date. The Do Hanse, your crush, liked you back. You still had trouble believing it had happened; having thought it was all a (very good) dream until you looked at your phone to see a text from the very boy.

Good morning (: Hope you slept well. I’ll see you at 11 x -Hanse

You couldn’t help but let out a little squeal at the cute text, before sending one back.

I slept very well thank you :3 I can’t wait xx -(y/n)

You hesitated before pressing send. Was two kisses too much when you hadn’t even gone on one date? Well, either way it was too late to change your mind so you shook off the little concern before finishing getting ready.

A couple of hours passed and pretty soon it was 10.45 and there was a knock on your door. Thankfully all of your family was already out of the house so you didn’t have to worry about being interrogated by anyone already. Straightening up your clothes, you get up, putting your phone in your pocket and head to answer the door. Upon opening you see Hanse there with an excited but nervous smile on his face. In his hands is a small bouquet of your favourite colour flowers and you can’t help but blush at the romantic gesture.

“You didn’t have to get me flowers!,” you say to him while motioning for him to enter your home to wait while you find a vase for the flowers.

“Seungwoo said it would be a good idea. Do you not like them? I can get you some other ones, or something else completely if you want.” You chuckle at his nervous rambling, not used to seeing the cute rapper act like this.

“They’re absolutely perfect, don’t worry. Thank you,” you reply taking the bouquet from him, causing a relieved look to form on his face. You slip your shoes on before continuing, “Shall we head out then?” and walking out, making sure to lock the door behind you.

On the walk to the small cafe you were headed too you both simply walk side by side before one of you takes the initiative, neither of you really sure who, and links your fingers together. Neither of you really acknowledge it, instead you simply carry on with content smiles and red cheeks

It is exactly 11am when you arrive at the cafe. It is a quaint place, tucked in between a music shop and a little boutique, but it is very charming and colourful. The atmosphere inside is somehow calm and energetic at the same time, especially considering it is still before noon. It isn’t very busy inside and you and Hanse have ordered your drinks and a couple of pastries in no time at all. Finding a small table in a back corner you two sit and talk a little before the male goes up to get your orders.

Considering you two knew each other before hand, conversation flows easily because you don’t have to go through the awkward small talk and usual, but boring questions that always happen on first dates. Instead you talk about things both deep and existential, and the most stupid things ever like if turtles wore clothes would they wear them under or over their shells? (Both of you have differing opinions and neither of you will admit to spending 10 minutes having a full on debate about it)

As you finish your drinks and food, you both order another drink to go before heading into the music store next door, where Hanse insists on showing some of his favourite artists which you have never heard or nor listened to. You don’t last long in there before you are kicked out of the store, both laughing to the extent that tears are falling down your cheeks. Apparently, rap battles by the display of Beyonce albums isn’t permitted. Both you and Hanse agree to never tell anyone that you got banned from a shop, pinky promising that it will be a secret you both keep to your graves.

With it being a nice afternoon, the two of you decide to spend the rest of your time together just window shopping. As you head through the streets with you hands once again joined and swinging between you, you spot something that makes you squeal and run off.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Hanse shouts from behind you, seeing you crouch down in front of something. Walking up behind you, he puts a hand on your shoulder before leaning over slightly, curious at what caught your interest. What he sees has him freeze slightly before he backs up a couple of steps. Nuzzling your open palm is a small, grey cat.

Now you, caught up in the moment, seem to forget the fact that Hanse is scared of the small felines. Seeing that the cat has a collar on and is well groomed, you come to the conclusion that it isn’t a stray with any fleas or diseases so you take the chance and pick it up, the small creature complying well. You stand up with Pip (as you see she is named on her collar) and turn to face your date. Hanse, upon seeing you stand up hugging the cat, retreats a couple more step with a slightly uneasy look on his face.

You see this and realisation dawns on you, a look of understanding making it’s way over your face. Slowly walking forwards so as to not startle cat nor boy, you motion to Pip with your head.

“She’s lovely. Why don’t you come closer. You don’t have to hold her or even stroke her. Just let her sniff you,” you say to Hanse, who doesn’t move for a moment but then carefully reaches his hand towards the cat who curiously sniffs at his fingers before rubbing her head against them. Hanse quickly removes his hand but smiles slightly and you grin at him, proud of his accomplishment and lowkey happy that he put his trust in you so quickly. Putting the cat down who quickly heads away, you hold you hand up to Hanse who gives you a high five.

“That wasn’t too bad. Not that I was scared or anything.”

“Oh, I totally believe you.” you laugh and Hanse playfully flicks you before pulling you into a quick hug.

“You know, I know this is only our first date and all, but I had a really great time. So would you perhaps let me take you on another? And perhaps I could take you out as your boyfriend the next time?” he shyly mumbles into your hair.

You smile into his shoulder and hug him tighter.

“It would be an honour. I still need to convince you of the right way turtles would wear their clothes after all,” you answer, earning a snort from Hanse.

“Here I am trying to be kind of romantic and you bring that up. Although now the moment has been killed, I suppose I can tell you that you that you are covered in cat hair and are ruining my clothes with it.”

The end of your date is spent roasting each other as your make your way home, but your wouldn’t have it any other way. This first date was the best first date you have ever been on and hopefully, there will be many more to follow. Who knows how long it will take to finish the turtle wear debate after all?

That’s the end of that! I hope it’s good. I feel like Hanse is slightly ooc, and I had a hard time finding inspiration for it considering I have never actually been on a date or anything. And it is slightly shorter than I would like but I felt if I wrote any more the quality of it (which isn’t too great to begin with) would have declined.

Anyway, go support the amazing and talented Victon <3

Feel free to leave feedback and requests! xxxx

[learnarabiconline]

What Does the Quran Say About Mary? Part 1

Mary, mother of Jesus, should be one of the most important figures in any religion which reveres Jesus as a prophet. However, this is not always the case. Within Christianity, for example, dedication to Mary rises and falls from denomination to denomination. In Catholicism, she is depicted in glorious works of art and worshiped through prayers, feasts, and masses. In the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, however, she is paid virtually no attention at all. It seems the only religion in which you will find unwavering dedication to Mary across all denominations and sects is not Christianity at all. To the surprise of many, it is Islam, the religion of the prophet Muhammad.

Although Islam does not worship any being but Allah, it does recognize Jesus as a prophet in the same vein as Muhammad. It also recognizes Mary as the mother of Jesus and, consequently, as being highly favored by Allah. But what does the Quran say about Mary specifically? What can it tell us about her story and why Allah chose her to bring forth one of his most important prophets? We're going to answer these questions in this article, the first of a two-part series looking at Mary's role within Islam. Along with the Quran, we will be drawing on the Hadith and other revered Muslim sources to give us the most comprehensive view possible of Mary within Islam. Let's get started!

Mary's Name In Islam

Mary is the only woman to be named in the Quran, making her the most exalted female figure in all of Islam. However, her glory far exceeds the limitations of gender. She is referenced by name and by titles a total of 70 times throughout the Quran. This is many more times than most male prophets are mentioned in the book. Additionally, the story of her life is discussed in seven different Surahs, with one even being named after her. It is important to note that the Surah in question - Surah 19 - bears Mary's Islamic name: Maryam. Throughout this article, as I have done in similar articles discussing prominent Christian figures within Islam, I will primarily being using the anglicized name of Mary. This is partly the result of my own long-ingrained Western habits and partly to avoid confusing our non-Muslim readers. However, I will use the name Maryam sporadically, particularly when quoting from Islamic sources.

Mary's Ancestry

Islam pays markedly more attention to Mary's ancestry than many Christian denominations. In the Quran, she is referred to as "the daughter of Imran". This is in stark contrast to Christian tradition, which often lists Mary's father as a saint named Joachim, despite the fact Mary's parents are never mentioned by name in the Bible. We don't know for sure if Imran is merely an Islamic interpretation of the Christian Joachim. According to Islamic scholar al-Tabari, however, Imran was married to a woman named Anne, which was also the name of Joachim's wife. Imran and Anne entered old age without bearing a single child. This perturbed Anne greatly, as she had long yearned for a child. In desperation, she prayed to Allah and vowed to dedicate her womb to His cause if He would only allow her to conceive. In Surah Ali 'Imran, the Quran tells us of Anne's promise to Allah in the following verses:

"[Mention, O Muhammad], when the wife of 'Imran said, 'My Lord, indeed I have pledged to You what is in my womb, consecrated [for Your service], so accept this from me. Indeed, You are the Hearing, the Knowing.' But when she delivered her, she said, 'My Lord, I have delivered a female.' And Allah was most knowing of what she delivered, 'And the male is not like the female. And I have named her Mary, and I seek refuge for her in You and [for] her descendants from Satan, the expelled [from the mercy of Allah ].' So her Lord accepted her with good acceptance and caused her to grow in a good manner and put her in the care of Zechariah. Every time Zechariah entered upon her in the prayer chamber, he found with her provision. He said, 'O Mary, from where is this [coming] to you?' She said, 'It is from Allah . Indeed, Allah provides for whom He wills without account.'"

Quran, 3:35 - 37

One of the most interesting factors of the above verses is Anne's apparent fear that she had disappointed Allah by bearing a female child instead of a male child. The society in which she lived favored male children heavily, with some parents of female babies even abandoning their daughters immediately after birth. However, Anne's delivery of Mary was all part of Allah's plan. He consciously gave to Anne a female child so that that child could grow up to bring forth one of the greatest prophets in human history. To ensure Mary reached adulthood with her purity intact, Allah protected her from Satan and all of his empty promises as she grew. As the final portion of the verses above tell us, He even provided her with food and drink as she prayed, much to the surprise of Zechariah, her caretaker.

As a side note, there is an Islamic tradition that Imran, Mary's father, had been promised a male child by Allah. This child, according to Allah, would be a great prophet, a healer, and a doer of miraculous deeds. This likely contributed to Anne's fear and confusion when she ultimately delivered a girl. However, Allah never specified whether the male child in question would be Imran's child, grandchild, or something else entirely. When Mary gave birth to Jesus, Allah's promise to Imran was fulfilled, reminding us once again that He always has a plan for his people.

Annunciation

The Annunciation refers to the event in which Mary was informed she was pregnant with a child who was to be one of Allah's greatest messengers. It is one of the most important events in all of Christianity. Non-Muslims may be surprised to learn, however, that it also carries significant weight within Islam. Like Christians, Muslims believe that Mary conceived Jesus without having sexual intercourse and while she was still a virgin. Mary was informed she was with child by the angel Gabriel, the same angel who would reveal the Quran to Muhammad almost 800 years later. The Quran recalls the Annunciation in Surah 19, which is actually named "Maryam", in honor of Jesus' mother. In Surah Maryam, we are told the following:

"And mention, [O Muhammad], in the Book [the story of] Mary, when she withdrew from her family to a place toward the east. And she took, in seclusion from them, a screen. Then We sent to her Our Angel, and he represented himself to her as a well-proportioned man. She said, 'Indeed, I seek refuge in the Most Merciful from you, [so leave me], if you should be fearing of Allah.' He said, 'I am only the messenger of your Lord to give you [news of] a pure boy.' She said, 'How can I have a boy while no man has touched me and I have not been unchaste?' He said, "Thus [it will be]; your Lord says, 'It is easy for Me, and We will make him a sign to the people and a mercy from Us. And it is a matter [already] decreed.'"

Quran, 19:16 - 21

Mary's decision to isolate herself from her friends and family is reminiscent of her childhood stay with Zechariah, during which time she lived in solitude and was concerned only with worshipping Allah. Her self-exile as outlined in Surah 19 tells us that her dedication to Allah did not wane as she entered into adulthood. If anything, the fact that she was willing to face the elements in order to attain greater release from the temptations of society tells us that her devotion to Him had grown only stronger. This, of course, made her the perfect candidate to bring Jesus into this world, as Allah had long known. Mary's preference for isolation will come into play again in the second article of this series as we examine the actual birth of Jesus, which the Quran describes in great detail and contrast to the Nativity of the Bible. For now though, let's take a moment to discuss an oft-overlooked aspect of the Quran's telling of the Annunciation.

Although much ink has been dedicated to the dissecting of the Annunciation within Islam, few scholars have touched on the hard-headedness Mary displays in Surah 19. When Gabriel informs her that she is with child, she responds "How can I have a boy while no man has touched me and I have not been unchaste?" She actually ARGUES with an angel, defending her purity and reminding him of how her mortal world works. Now, some may see having the nerve to question an angel as an undesirable trait and, in many situations, it would be. In Surah Maryam, however, it displays remarkable strength, independence, and realism on the part of Mary. It seems her character is not unlike that of Khadijah, Muhammad's first wife and the woman who would be instrumental in helping Muhammad understand his role as a prophet. Quran, 19:16 - 21 is a reminder that Allah has long shown great admiration for strong-willed women and has always trusted females to carry out his work upon the earth.

Conclusion

The Quran has often been criticized for its apparent sexism and tendency to minimize women. As anybody who is familiar with the story of the Islamic Mary knows, however, the Quran is anything but sexist. Over and over again, the Quran tells us of Mary's glory and dedication to Allah. She is given just as much attention as any prophet. In some cases, she even receives more attention than certain prophets. Throughout the Quran, Mary is presented as strong-willed, uncompromising, and firm in the face of temptation and mockery. It reminds us that she is so much more than the mother of Jesus. That being said, her primary role in the eyes of Allah was to bring forth one of His dearest and greatest prophets. This was an incredibly important role and in no way compromised Mary's integrity or independence. In the second installment of this series, we'll be discussing the birth of Jesus and how it enriched Mary's life and standing in the eyes of Allah.

[ramsybaby]

  Truth be told, the existence and frequency of crimes being committed aren’t as mind boggling as I tend to express. The true riddle lies in what type of reward executors of the worst infractions could possibly be dedicating their lives, our lives, towards getting. With obvious and typical financial benefits aside (and threats of murder for noncompliance) there isn’t much room left to imagine other motivations.

What surprises me, I suppose, is that hundreds in power appear to not care what consequences will befall their own families, as a result of being connected to those who participated directly in the destruction and deceptions.

Especially when the hooves of their high and mighty stallions of “justice” are heard thundering across the broad quilt of our faces, each and every day.

In a world chock full of indignant “do-gooders” and exploited child spokespeople who are trained and rewarded to parrot those who hate us with every fiber of their being.

In the future (if there’s one left to be reached) the progeny of today’s criminals will more than likely suffer much of the same humiliations that current descendants of infamous figures have to endure.

I don’t see this habit changing much in the next few generations. As a matter of fact, with average IQs dropping as they are, we’re on a return trip towards average mindsets ruled by dark aged suspicions and fears; still throwing salt over our shoulders and ogling others for traces of  “bad joo joo” from the carriers of such deep-rooted corruption. What an unfair and heavy burden for any human being to carry. When they’ve struggled to build reputations amongst their clans and colleagues..only to be dashed on the grounds of historical evidence and assumptions of genetic tyrannical “cooties”.

Revenge. Disgust. Repulsion. Avoidance. These are the “gifts” those who knowingly destroy vital evidences leave their children. Lifetimes of opportunities dashed for the sake of single lifetime of kicks and privilege great grandpas Bush or Obama couldn’t shake and jollies which great-grand hyenas Clinton and Pelosi refused to drop from their sharp and dentured jaws.

From mortified sons and daughters, related to formerly esteemed editors of magazine dynasties to the innocent grandchild of a doctor forced to answer for tens of thousands of mothers bullied into the forced sterility and insanity. Be it by trial or the final and depressed contemplation of suicide. They will all suffer from this lack of foresight that all, who could have helped us, seem to be struck with.

The following is what I have determined are truths which will eventually drop into the light-with the aid of collectively restored mental functioning. I mention restoration because the ability to “think right” must be restored; or else we’ll never understand nor see the obvious things which we sadly struggle to see now. The things which are killing and sickening  us.

And will continue to kill and sicken us.

The following is a sampling of damages and the “odd and unexplained events” sure to be studied -along with other ongoing “trivial “ and serious offenses that I neither have the time nor the heart to address.

Lack of assistance re critical news for deaf citizens https://www.wcpo.com/news/national/fake-sign-language-interpreter-behavior

http://limpingchicken.com/2017/09/11/deaf-news-new-fake-interpreter-storm-over-hurricane-irma-emergency-newsflash/

An international corporation being forced to offer decent and necessary assisted services for the deaf. Although it’s an older article, there are still ongoing issues. https://www.cnet.com/news/netflix-sued-by-deaf-group-over-lack-of-subtitles/

Mercury, admitted by even the World Heath Organization https://www.who.int/ipcs/assessment/public_health/mercury/en/ as being extremely dangerous, being injected into millions of human beings and infants.

Their echoed assurance of Ethyl mercury being “quite different” from mercury; exposed as a lie thanks to scientific testimonials, including a 2017 report which specifically confirmed the two act in identical ways as far as damages are concerned, with differences being in the time of shelf life and residual tracing.

(Needless to say, this has been the worst and most publicized abuse)

  The increased crippling and damage caused to newborn babies by induced labor https://www.michigancerebralpalsyattorneys.com/causes-and-risk-factors-of-cerebral-palsy/labor-and-delivery-problems/cerebral-palsy-pitocin-cytotec-labor-inducing-drugs/

under the World Health Organization internationally pushed policies https://apps.who.int/iris/bitstream/handle/10665/44531/9789241501156_eng.pdf;sequence=1

The refusal of assistance for the stopping of genital mutilation https://www.cbsnews.com/news/detroit-federal-judge-dismisses-charges-female-genital-mutilation-case/

  although we are obligated to numerous “women’s rights” laws , with the United Nations making worn out decades of promises to end such violence…which even their own soldiers are immune from being prosecuted under.

https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/frontline/announcement/frontline-uncovers-new-cases-of-sex-abuse-by-united-nations-peacekeepers/

View at Medium.com

(you will have to input the following article’s link-from top of the search bar area- manually)

The following are a few laws and instructions that can, at wretched least, be easily tied to the aforementioned insults and abuses. (Something that may have been worth investigating if we would have had enough human beings in positions of influence, strong enough and fearless enough to have put millions of children’s lives in front of their own narrow interests.)

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Which leads us to one parallel factor that is commonly shared by the majority of this worlds’ leaders. And which should evaporate any arguments which begin with idiotic “Bi-partisan” huffing and puffing. ..Ronald Reagan, as both governor and president, frequently referred to the tradition, whether as a moral principle or a reason for specific policies on issues such as abortion. John Kasich, then the governor of Ohio, wanted to set up a new agency to promote Judeo-Christian values. Mitt Romney saw it as “central to America’s rise in global leadership.” President Barack Obama invoked it to eulogize Shimon Peres. Then-candidate Donald Trump vowed he would be “stopping cold the attacks on Judeo-Christian values.” And Stephen K. Bannon repeatedly invokes it in his plans to promote European and American nationalism….

(taken from complete Washington Post article which can be read here https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2019/04/17/once-judeo-christian-tradition-united-americans-now-it-divides-them/) One can plainly see the spirit of agreement and cooperation includes all parties and differing POVs.

Agreements which include actual legislation that our politicians have been free to make decisions upon , in blatant and unchecked monarchial fashion, for many years. The most shameless molestation of our Constitution-marrying religious matters into the very heart of state affairs.

https://www.congress.gov/bill/102nd-congress/house-joint-resolution/104/text

Finally, we have a last, but not least , “hint” of things not being as we’ve been forced to believe. A “clue” as to things not being as we depended on them being in order to operate within this “loving and respecting one another” snow globe. Choosing to look on the brighter side of matters, it’s a “hint” which can help us better maneuver what precious little is left of our lives, in order to avoid future and oncoming assaults. https://religiondispatches.org/holy-spit-why-do-ultra-orthodox-jews-spit-at-christians/

Never mind this bug eyed and open mouthed  “spit” into our face, regarding the witholding of “assistance” from “unworthy” human beings. 

When an entire fabricated piece of fiction of zombies in the land was vomited out from the guts of CDC instead of real and useful information (that used to be displayed so we could better save our lives) in the event of a true emergency.

https://www.cdc.gov/cpr/zombie/index.htm

It is these obvious damages and evils resulting from these types of connections which will plague the reputations and pain the consciences of the descendants- of the hundreds of leaders, academics, media monopolists, celebrities, clergy and all others…who have decided “to hell” with even the very children they promised to “love and provide” for.

Never mind us -the “dirty and revolting human beings that infect the earth” they rule over and claim embarrassing “superiority” over.

It’s simply a shame to see how many human beings, of supposed impeccable status and reputations, have ended up safeguarding the condition of their legacy with no better regard than pet waste scraped from the bottom of their well-heeled and “Louboutin”ed feet.

The “celebrated” multitude who bare their ugly teeth and have the naked nerve to dare accuse scores of us of “anti-Semitism” ; when in our own families we carry the DNA of mothers who had to watch their babies skulls get crushed in land stealing massacres, fathers who had limbs chopped off in attempts for freedom and those millions of families who carry the wounds of countless extermination programs…where their “betters” used them like any coward who has the audacity to use human shields.

If we were to be a bit more honest and a LOT less vain, we would see that the spiritual obligation to deceive us means we’ve NEVER been protected nor “loved” in the first place..by these all too mortal “men”.

Note;(As he predicted and as tyrants insist we remain terrorized by, as if we’re forever doomed to stay in the 200 B.C.s instead of 2020 A.D., he was murdered in the period before the Bolshevik uprising) The author is slandered (in a Wikipedia article) as being so ignorant as to have compiled a controversial translation of the Judaic documents, risking his very life, with the poorest understanding of the ancient language. As one can see, on occasion, he did include original text-meaning the door is closed on any such careless “fact” It is important work which resulted in one of the bravest moves a human citizen could have even imagined risking in the 15th century..especially while working under the severe eyes of the most dangerous merger of institutions that this world has ever been forced to suffer and exist under.)

photo By Sergey Nivens

  An Extreme and Wicked Lack of Concern Truth be told, the existence and frequency of crimes being committed aren't as mind boggling as I tend to express.

[ol-plots-blog]

IN THE PRESENCE OF VAMPIRES pt. 2 (read pt. 1)

The morning had been taxing, and Lowell was exhausted. After speaking to the press about Prida’s murder - which had caused not only shockwaves through the press room, but owls had started flooding in after the WWN’s report - he’d had to endure meeting after meeting of concerned ministers. They’d each pressed his hand in condolence, and Lowell had grimaced and reassured them all in turn that this was a freak accident, that it wouldn’t be repeated, that he would take care of it.

But the parallel trails of blood that Lowell had followed like a twisted trail of bread crumbs to find Prida’s body had stuck with him. It wasn’t that Lowell had never been exposed to blood or death; he had, numerous times, but this was Prida. Lowell wanted to believe that he could protect those within his employ, and even those he cared about. There was also the fact that it looked terrible for his image as a Minister, and as unfeeling as it seemed, Lowell cared a great deal about that, too.

After shaking the hand of a sweaty-palmed wizard who explained, for ten minutes, about the time Prida had made him a cup of coffee, Lowell excused himself to his office. The floor was quiet as he stepped out of the elevator, the marble floor suddenly echoing with the silence of Prida’s loss. Lowell had gotten used to her there; to the smell of her perfume filling the foyer as she walked to and from her office, or the exact way she made coffee, or the sound of her laughter while entertaining a minister. She’d been loyal to the very end, Lowell was sure of that - she’d fought and died by what she believed, which was that the creatures of this world must be controlled and contained.

She had paid the ultimate price. Lowell knew he should’ve tried harder to shield her from harm; should’ve made sure she didn’t live so far from the aurors, that she should’ve been properly trained herself. But in truth, Lowell had been blindsided by this - he had expected attempts on his own life, of course, but his secretary? It was a murder that showed these creatures and beasts had no humanity or reason left.

His office was dark and as he’d left it that morning, though the severed hand had been removed, taken by the aurors who were investigating. Lowering himself into his well-worn chair, Lowell pressed a hand to his face, drawing in a slow breath. He knew what he had to do next, but the execution would cost him a great deal - and he would need to wait til sun down.

“Sir?”

Lowell glanced up, tired eyes taking in Fischer and Blackwood standing there.

“Report,” he ordered, waving them in.

They nodded, taking two steps inside the office, before beginning the debrief. It was short, the investigation still in its preliminary stages, they said. But the creature that had murdered her was confirmed: vampire.

“As suspected,” Lowell murmured, rubbing his forehead again. He would like a strong drink, but dared not allow himself. “Very good. Head back to the manor and I’ll meet with you there in an hour. Tell the others.”

Fischer and Blackwood didn’t argue, though Fischer did hesitate for a second, as though debating whether to say what was on her mind.

“What is it, Fischer?”

Her mouth thinned into a line, and Blackwood looked on from the doorway. “I’m sorry, sir,” she said, a moment of rare gentility. “About Prida.”

It was the first time that day that Lowell had actually believed anyone to be sincere about the loss, and Lowell met her eye.

“Thank you,” he said. “She was a good person.”

There was nothing more to say, and Fischer left with Blackwood, the two of them already bickering before they’d even entered the elevator, Lowell listening remotely to their heated words before there was silence once more.

He wasn’t used to feeling like this - like he was on the backfoot, like there was something he was missing. He understood the anger of these creatures - that they’d made very clear - but this was unexpected. Lowell usually planned for every possibility; strategised for every move that someone could make, every variable that could crop up. Was he losing his touch? The thought bothered him more than he would’ve liked to admit, and the itch for a drink was strong - just something to burn his throat, distract him from his thoughts.

Instead, Lowell stood and grabbed his wand, his coat, and headed out. He couldn’t be here, not when everything was so open ended, and with several more hours until the sun set, there was time to kill.

*

The Bowery was dark when Lowell apparated in.

Leaving the confines of the manor house after discussing the murder of Prida with his team, Lowell had allowed the sun to set and the night to settle before he’d grabbed his coat once more. The others had been exhausted as they wrapped up, though he was glad to see they fought through it - Winterbourne squeezing Walcott’s hand periodically, Caomh chattering small comments to Fitzpatrick in Gaelic that kept them both awake and engaged. Lowell had to admit that the team he’d chosen were strong and dedicated, and he was grateful for each of them.

And true to their nature, they’d offered to accompany him to the Bowery, some of them knowing its filth better than Lowell - some of them having worked there, bled out on the cobblestones, grew up knowing its twists and turns. But the destination that Lowell sought was not for the others to know about; his business was a private one, even from the people that he trusted most.

Of course, not many people in full possession of their rationality and sanity would walk into the Bowery at night; even the citizens knew which spots to avoid. They knew that Stabbing Street was nicknamed that for a reason; knew that the sound of cheers and screams from The Basement could lure you in like a siren and just as quickly take your money. They knew that the Meatlocker had whatever you needed, for a price, but the selection was more varied at Sade’s. They knew a decent drink could be found at Shelley’s Leg, but if you were after something less than legal, The Sabbat could provide.

Lowell knew all this and walked through the Bowery anyway. He knew the kind of people that lived and worked here - knew exactly which of laws were being flaunted, broken, abused. And he allowed it, because that was the way the Bowery worked. Besides, if he raided Sade’s, he’d find more than a dozen of his Minister’s with their pants around their ankles, and then he’d have to go through the hassle of employing more.

No; the Bowery was a teeming underbelly that worked to its own code, and the less Lowell and his Ministry disturbed it, the better off they all were. Besides, most of the Bowery remained self-contained: if you walked through it, then you knew what you were going to get. Newcomers never made the same mistake twice. Unlike Knockturn Alley - with its cheap criminals and shattered families trying to make the most of things, the Bowery was unforgiving. It made no pretense like Knockturn; it hard no well-meaning foil to it the way Diagon Alley was to Knockturn. There was no redemption on the streets of the Bowery - this is where people came when they were at their end, and the monsters came to toy with them.

The idea was of some comfort to Lowell as he walked through the main street of the Bowery, keeping his eyes straight forward but not from cowardice. At least he knew where to go to find the monsters in the world - and here, there was some control, some order to their reign. And, Lowell reasoned, a chance at negotiation.

The sources of light came from the glowing windows of the Bowery - the neon of Sade’s, kept further back for complete discretion versus the unabashed display that the Meatlocker put on. The pubs glowed invitingly, while the other establishments provided light through greasy, stained windows - dim and alluring. But Lowell would not be swayed tonight by the temptations of the Bowery, though he could not say he never had before - every man had his weakness, after all, and his eyes lingered in the direction of Sade’s before he picked up his step. Lowell had always prided himself on being stronger than his vices, for which his family had fallen prey - he would not be the same, and he would not end up dead like them.

His presence in the Bowery drew more attention than he would have liked, but Lowell knew that nothing in the quarter would go unnoticed. Someone, somewhere, was always watching - eyes followed all passers-through, and everything was reported back to the metaphorical beating heart of the Bowery: the Duchess. Lowell knew her blood slaves were reporting his movements to her at this moment, webs of information that she used as puppet strings to control the Bowery and everyone in it.

Nothing happened without her knowing, and much less happened without her permission.

Only fools ignored the other powers in charge in their quest for complete dominance. Lowell was no such fool. He understand that in order to get what he wanted, there were times when sacrifices and compromises must be made - when he had to bow his head to another major player and hope they bowed in return.

The Duchess had manners - built over centuries of being alive, she was one of the only people that had ever gotten under Lowell’s skin and could play him in a way that landed him humiliated and vulnerable. It was why he delayed meeting her as often as possible; why he came only now, when he needed to.

Her manor was, as always, darkly-lit with torches of fire rather than muggle electricity, which many wizards had adopted. Lowell’s eyes adjusted to the light quickly as he walked inside, meeting soft music that immediately culled the outside world away. A blood slave - pale, thin, drawn - closed the door behind Lowell with a click, and he was entombed.

It was warm, and Lowell began walking, taking the hallways by memory from the times when he’d been here before.

The Duchess’ manor house was beautiful and old-fashioned, but less in a gaudy way than in a legitimate and decadent fashion. There were objects collected from all over the world - cultures that Lowell would’ve loved to have studied as a boy, and trinkets that he is sure would’ve swallowed him whole. The Duchess was a collector, of sorts - her manor held some of those things. Books and objects and carvings and paintings of all sorts were neatly arranged along the walls and display cabinets; weapons, jewellery, and in one glass case, a hand.

It made Lowell think of Prida’s hand from that morning, and he turned away.

“Mistress will see you in her chamber,” came a voice from the doorway, and Lowell turned to see the blood slave from the door staring at him, dead-eyed.

Lowell said nothing to this man, who was, in most respects, no longer a man; he had given himself over to the Duchess’ power in exchange for a drop or two of her blood. It had been his choice - yet another vice that had claimed another life.

He followed the slave through the room and down the hall, the music still a gentle swell in the background - not loud enough to discern exactly what was playing, but enough to be reminded of something from a long time ago that you couldn’t quite grasp at the memory of. It made Lowell think of many things; things that prickled at his spine, of a lifetime ago before things had become what they were.

He shook the thoughts immediately. This was why he hated coming here. Vampires had an unsettling power over people - it was no coincidence that they called her the Bathory of the Bowery.

The Duchess’ chambers were warm and dimly lit, and from where Lowell stood, staring up the length of the room to where she sat, he could see a dozen or so blood slaves around her. Some were lying prostrate on the stone, either in worship or a state of pleading, Lowell couldn’t be sure. Others, possibly higher in her favour at the moment, sat closer to her, around her feet and scattered like puppies. One lucky blood slave was kneeling in front of her, the slave’s long red hair falling over her back as she offered up her wrist.

“Care for a drink?” came the velvet-smooth voice of the Duchess as Lowell entered, not looking up from where she was working on draining the slave’s wrist into a wine goblet.

When she was satisfied with the amount, she looked at the slave, who immediately bowed her head. The Duchess’ painted lips curved up in a smile, and she leaned down. Lowell watched, intrigued, as the Duchess licked over the wound in the slave’s arm gently - and the wound closed, slowly, as though magic knitted the skin back together.

“No, thank you,” Lowell replied once this intimate moment between master and slave was over, his eyes lingering on the girl as she cradled her wrist to her chest, as though it were a precious gift, before leaving.

“Are you sure?” pressed the Duchess, fondly watching the naked slave leave before her dark eyes lifted to Lowell. “I thought a drink was something you people couldn’t refuse.”

Lowell let the taunt glance off him. “I came to speak to you about business,” he said, seeing no reason to delay, though he gave a wary glance to the blood slaves still spread around the Duchess like toys.

She gave a dry roll of her eyes and took a sip from the goblet. When the goblet lowered, he couldn’t tell if it were blood on her lips or the colour of her lipstick. “It’s always business with you, Lowell, darling. That’s the problem: you take no time to find joy in the little things.”

“I’m afraid I have not much cause for joy today.”

The Duchess raised her eyebrows behind the goblet she drank from, and their eyes met. He held her gaze, and nor did she waver.

“Leave us,” she said once she’d swallowed the mouthful of blood, and the slaves around her hastened to follow the command, each of them thin and pale, all bone and hollow eyes, lank hair trailing after them as they left the chamber. “Are you going to make me ask what this is about, or shall I begin guessing?”

The idea that she didn’t already know what this was about didn’t seem possible.

“And I didn’t want to do you the dishonour by assuming you were that poorly informed,” Lowell returned, his face impassive and belying the emotion he felt about Prida.

Her lips quirked. “Smart man,” she said, nails catching the light where they held the goblet. “I assume this is about your hired help.”

“She was more than help, and I would appreciate if you didn’t speak of her so callously,” Lowell said, voice heated. “As far as my team and I are aware, she was murdered.”

The Duchess looked at Lowell, daring him to say it. “Yes, so I heard.”

“By vampires,” Lowell continued. “Tortured, even.”

“The lives of humans are so very fragile,” sighed the Duchess, mockery evident.

Lowell took a step closer - he hated feeling on the back foot around her; if it had been anyone else, he would’ve found a way around her and her power. Undercut her, manipulated her, blackmailed her, threatened her - anything that gave him a bit more leverage. Lowell had gotten good at that over the years, digging and clawing his way in secret to circumvent the people around him. But the Duchess? There was no going around her, because she was everywhere, and she wasn’t just one person.

She was an army.

“Our lives are not a joke,” Lowell said, voice cutting. “And for someone whose own future depends upon that of my own, I would expect that you’d take more care.”

The Duchess sobered. “You truly are no fun today,” she drawled, as though tired of his presence. “Very well, let us talk business. I know nothing of the murder of your human.”

“I don’t believe you,” Lowell countered immediately. “You know everything the vampires do.”

Her smile was thin. “You give me much more credit than I deserve, Lowell,” she said. After taking a sip from the goblet and swallowing, she continued. “Not all vampires recognise a leader. Some are angry.”

“With my leadership.”

“In part,” she allowed. “But you are one man, serving for ten years. What many of us have endured is centuries-long confinement. For some, torture. Enslavement. You’ve just tightened the leash.”

“Speak plainly,” Lowell said. “Who did this?”

“No one under my control, but as I told you when we struck our bargain, not all vampires are under my control, Lowell darling. I have a majority, at least when it comes down to it, but there are some beyond even my reach.”

The Duchess didn’t seem happy about admitting it, and Lowell took that as a sign that she was telling the truth.

“And where might I find those beyond your reach?” Lowell pressed. “Names, locations, I’ll take whatever you have.”

Her smile, when it appeared, was wicked and sharp, curving at the corners like the thorn on a rose. She had power, and she was more than capable of wielding it; you didn’t get into a position like hers without it. And though Lowell knew he could more than hold his own against her - you didn’t become Minister without being able to pull strings yourself - he felt fragile and new, a newborn babe at the mercy of a predator.

“That sounds like you’re asking for something,” she said coyly. “What will you give me?”

“What do you want?”

She knew she had him in the palm of her hand, but Lowell held firm, neither shrinking nor cowering.

“Blood,” she said, raising her chin. “Our dens and bars are running short, and my own personal supply is low -- lower than I am comfortable with.”

Lowell frowned. “You have your slaves.”

“Despite what you think of me, I am not a cruel master,” she laughed. “I won’t bleed them dry.”

There were strings Lowell could pull - it would be difficult, but he could do it.

“You’ll have the same amount as the last order,” he said.

“Double it or I’ll leave you to chase your tail.”

It felt like a fist was closing around Lowell’s lungs, a struggle with what he wanted and his own morals. To give in would set a precedent; to resist would destroy his sanity. The bottom line was that Lowell could not get answers from any other source than the Duchess; the cost might rise, but he would have to pay it.

“Double and no higher,” Lowell relented. “Tell me what you know.”

“With pleasure.”

And when she spoke, weaving the story of rogue vampires conspiring together, planning attacks and pointedly targeting people and places, Lowell understood that this war was going to be a lot harder than he thought. Now battling a war on two fronts - werewolves and vampires - he would be stretched thin as it already is. He would need more people, and a better strategy. He would need time to think.

“Thank you,” Lowell said, once he’d gotten a few names that he could go on. “You’ll have the supply by week’s end.”

His mind was full and already beginning to compartmentalise, and Lowell needed to leave. His study called to him, a roaring fire that would warm his knees while his mind turned over everything he’d been told, making plan after plan, going through each possibility. Strategy was his strong suit, and Lowell needed space to do what he was best at.

Turning to leave, Lowell had almost left the room when she called him back, a name on her tongue that made his spine straighten.

“I saw Lysander the other day.”

Lowell’s feet froze, and his heart thumped twice, three times, before he turned. “Oh?”

She was the picture of delighted, eyes lively and gleaming with humour. “He is well,” she said, picking up her goblet. “He, at least, stayed for a drink.”

He wouldn’t let this sway him, and he dropped his eyes from the Duchess’ and left, walking past the blood slaves who rushed into the room he’d just vacated, as though unable to breathe a moment longer without their master.

Lowell would not think of Lysander; today was not about him. It was about Prida, and finding those responsible for her death. He would have justice for her death, and if it took the form of the most brutal punishment possible, then Lowell would not apologise.

[movieswithkevin27]

Hellboy II: The Golden Army

A thrilling and fantastical return to the Bureau of Paranoramal Research and Defense, Hellboy II: The Golden Army is far less gothic than its predecessor and, in focusing more on the fantasy element, is a great improvement on its already strong first entry. Far more in Guillermo del Toro's wheelhouse as more of a fantastical fairy tale with fairies, elves, and children reading those very same fairy tales, Hellboy II: The Golden Army starts off with informing the audience about the war between humans and elves. Born with a hole in their heart that is filled with earthly possessions, humanity sought to wipe out every other being on Earth. The only ones standing in their way were the elves who raised a golden army that was indestructible. Destroying the humans in numbers that disturbed the Elf King, a truce was reached for the elves to stay in the forest with two pieces of the golden crown that controls the Golden Army and the humans to stay in the cities with one piece of the crown. However, when elvish Prince Nuada (Luke Goss) returns and is determined to raise the Golden Army to wipe out humanity, it is on Hellboy and the gang to save the world once again.

Central to this work is the role of Hellboy and his other supernatural friends in this world of humanity. However, it is largely through the guise of exploring those who are different. In his work, Del Toro is known for exploring creativity, fairy tales, those with their heads in the clouds, and those who are different from others for these reasons - namely Pan's Labyrinth and now again in The Shape of Water, as examples - and here, in Hellboy II, he firmly establishes this group as one of outsiders. Hellboy is equated to Frankenstein's monster as the people accuse him of harming a child even though they can plainly see he did not. Abe Sapien is equated to the Creature from the Black Lagoon. Liz (Selma Blair) feels "looked at" and scrutinized due to her fire-based abilities. The trio feel excluded and like outsiders to the world around them, yet they fight for this world all the same. Though they feel rejected and like outcasts, their wish to fit in is one that overwhelms them. Yet, at the core of it all, is their belief that there should be no boundaries. Abe falls in love with the Elf Princess. Hellboy and Liz are in love. There is inter-species romance in the air and this eclectic group of weirdos embrace these differences. Though rejected by the humans, they nonetheless fight for them because they love their differences, respect them, and wish to protect them and their culture when it is under attack.

It is for this same reason that Hellboy struggles to kill a god of the forest and, later, the dangerous elf Prince. Waging war on the humans to maintain their own culture, the elves' cause is one that Hellboy sympathizes with entirely. The prince plays on this sympathy and continuously tries to win him over to his side, warning that the humans will never accept him and his differences. Yet, to Hellboy and the others, the humans are not the ones waging war. Though they may, that is not their concern in the present. Rather, no matter what pull they feel to defend the elves, they must defend those that they are entrusted to protect and those that have remained peaceful to other species in recent times. In the end, for this bad of misfits, the most important thing is acceptance, peace, and understanding. Those who wage war must go as their anti-cultural beliefs are ones that do not gel with them - see the Nazis in the first film - and though they wish to fight for all cultures to remain, there is a line to not cross that the elves have very flippantly disregarded.

In this regard, the film perfectly uses the "end of the world" trope that has often maligned superhero films in recent years. Though the elvish prince does wish to unleash the Golden Army on humanity that would certainly wipe them out, the film has it all make sense. Rather than some nonsensical plot where it becomes clear that the villain has nothing but blood lust, the backstory and development of the elvish prince allows us to understand his plight perfectly. As a result, he is a strong villain as though reject his actions, his reasoning and cause are ones that are rather noble. Viewing his father's actions as ones that have eliminated the elves from the world, he wishes to restore his culture as one to be proud of and one that instills great respect wherever it travels. His violent ways are not the right path, but his cause makes sense and his method of rectifying these wrongs make sense as well. In essence, it often doubles as a symbol of nuclear warfare. With certain destruction of the enemy when using the Golden Army, one must exercise great caution in using the weapon. Yet, as with the Americans and Soviets, the elvish prince is fighting for a way of life and a culture. He is willing to press the red button and unleash the army to do so. As a result, he must be stopped even if his crusade is one that can be readily sympathized with by all.

Perhaps the most interesting element of Hellboy II is the sequence in which Liz saves Hellboy's life with the help of a mysterious being. Warning Liz that it is Hellboy's destiny to destroy the world, it is unfortunate that there will be no third edition to this series to answer this question, but nonetheless it is a very compelling existential debate that is presented. Akin to the question, "Would you kill baby Hitler?", Liz is tasked with deciding whether it is worth it to save Hellboy now and have him destroy the world later or let him die and save the world. In many ways, it is a deeply philosophical and hypothetical question, but it is one that is actually put into practice in the film. It really comes down to how one views free-will. With regards to both baby Hitler and now Hellboy, if there is free-will, then they can be saved and not cause so much trauma. If one does not believe in free-will, however, then destiny rules all and they would have to be destroyed to prevent it coming true. For Liz and the film series, the answer is obvious. Yet, it is a thought-provoking and great touch that shows recognition on the part of Del Toro that, at the end of the day, Hellboy is a demon that was initially sent to Earth to destroy humanity. Though turned into a force for good, his destiny is unaltered. Is his path permanently changed or will humanity's rejection of him as a hero be enough to alter his course towards evil?

One of the best elements of any film by Guillermo del Toro is the visuals and Hellboy II: The Golden Army is hardly an exception to that rule. As the forest god - in the form of a pseudo tree/huge plant - dies, the special effects as the greenery is spread around the surrounding area and covering trees, covers, and roads, with a huge flower budding in the center, are incredible. Awe-inspiring and a truly magical moment that perfectly demonstrates Del Toro's incredible fantasy inclinations, the moment is one that may not communicate much about the plot, but does a world of good for the themes. Demonstrating the hidden beauty of a culture that can be lost when it is destroyed - the forest god that was killed was the last of its kind - this seemingly innocuous moment serves as a warning to both Hellboy and the viewer. Though the forest god may seem big and evil on the outside, his interior and the culture he embodies is one that is impossible to replicate and one with unspeakable beauty. Destroying it would be a net negative to the world and, if possible, peace is the route that needs to be taken. Alongside the effects, the production design is incredible whether it is inside the bureau, in the Golden Army storage facility, or the troll market. Displaying the incredible imagination from the comic and the mind of Del Toro, this is a fantasy world that is epic in scope, grand in design, and truly transports the audience to a world like no other.

As with any superhero film, Hellboy II has some light moments along the way, such as Hellboy and Abe Sapien singing along to "Can't Smile Without You" while downing beers. In more modern superhero films, the forced comedy often intrudes on the tension and action. Here, Del Toro allows the action to be focused on the action, the tension to rise and fall as in non-superhero films, and still dedicate time to character development and comedy. Non-intrusive with the scene all to itself, the scene shows how Hellboy and Abe Sapien may look and act different than everybody else, but they are just like us on the inside. Feeling every emotion, falling in love, having a good time, and drinking a cold one with the boys, this duo is one that is hard not to root for in the film and this scene exemplifies why. Even more, however, it provides a moment of light comedy and hijinx without ever intruding on the dark and fantastical feeling of the film, instead flowing perfectly into the rest of the film and never altering the tone.

Action-packed, gorgeously designed, and a thrilling return to the world of Hellboy, Hellboy II: The Golden Army is the rare superhero film with a great villain, great stakes, a smart usage of the "end of the world" trope, well-timed romantic moments, non-intrusive comedy, and great visuals. Given the turn that the genre has taken towards looking like a television film and being solely reliant on quips, Hellboy II: The Golden Army is a breathe of fresh air that thrills and entertains like few other superhero films could ever dream of achieving.

[yogaadvise]

What Does It Really Mean to Live Mindfully?

While paying attention to an episode of 'On Being', the podcast held by Krista Tippett, I came across an impressive meeting with distinguished travel writer Pico Iyer. The acclaimed writer, who penned The Art of Tranquility: Experiences in Going Nowhere, doesn't claim to be a spiritual educator. As Tippett said, 'He has ended up being one of our most precious as well as significant translators of the contemporary discovery of inner life.'

So you can picture my surprise when Iyer revealed that he does not meditate, at the very least not in the conventional feeling. Instead, he invests a lot of his life 'in the middle of nowhere'- that is to state, untangled from a lot of the distractions of contemporary life. He lives practically totally devoid of technology in a two-room home in Kyoto, Japan, immersing himself in stillness.

' ... I awaken, I have breakfast, I make a five-foot commute to my workdesk, as well as then I just sit there for a minimum of five hours aiming to sift as a result of my distortions as well as illusions and also projections and also find what is real behind the numerous points I'm lured to state,' he said in the interview with Tippett. 'And also I assume an author remains in the blessed placement due to the fact that, in some methods, our work is to rest still as well as to practice meditation for a living. Although I don't have a formal spiritual meditation method, I do invest a lot of my life in the center of no place, stationary. And also I'm really thankful for that.'

For those who are intimidated by seated reflection, or feel they don't have time to dedicate to exercise, this kind of conscious living could seem like an attractive course to quality. However what happens if you do not live in such a peaceful setting and your everyday life is taken in by caring for children or handling 2 jobs? When silence is limited, is it feasible to exercise Iyer's approach to meditation?

A Closer Look at Mindfulness

' [Mindfulness is] concerning focusing on what's going on,' says Judson Brewer, M.D., Ph.D., supervisor of research study at the Facility for Mindfulness at UMass Medical College. 'When somebody's living mindfully, they're truly being there, rather than half-there or multitasking or paying interest to 3 points at the same time.'

As humans staying in the modern age, we're bombarded by a constant flow of attention-demanding stimulations. Mindfulness is actually about directing your focus in a focused means to make sure that you're not being pulled along on autopilot.

' It's seeing that impulse to draw away, yet not repeatedly acting upon it,' Brewer adds.

Living in such a way pays off on a variety of levels. According to the American Psychological Organization, mindfulness is connected to minimized anxiety, boosted memory, boosted immune performance, and more.

Kristen Race, Ph.D., founder of Mindful Life, includes that mindfulness in fact enhances the neural wiring in the prefrontal cortex of the brain.

' That's the component of our brain that aids us be much more participated in our relationships,' she claims. 'It aids us assume much more clearly. It helps us resolve issues.'

Using Everyday Tasks to Live a Conscious Life

For individuals that don't have a formal reflection regimen, informal mindfulness methods are very easy ways to raise understanding. It turns out that our best educators can really be mundane, normal tasks.

In a recent study from Florida State College, scientists located that washing dishes in a mindful means dramatically raised motivation and decreased anxiety. All this called for was for the individuals to take notice of the sensory encounters of the task (the smell of the soap, the warmth of the water, and so on).

According to researchers, approaching any kind of activity in a willful way disrupts the mental chatter that uses a loophole in our heads. As opposed to brooding over the past or fretting about the future, present-moment recognition permits us to be in the now.

' Typically you arrive someplace and also you have no idea just how you arrived due to the fact that you were psychologically inspected out the whole way,' says Race. 'Rather, see your atmosphere. When you're strolling your dog, hear the birds. Make use of all your detects to be totally aware of the present moment.'

Perhaps mindfulness professional Jon Kabat-Zinn put it best: 'When you're in the shower following time, check and see if you remain in the shower,' he told '60 Minutes' in a 2014 interview.

Translation: Be entirely present for the experience.

' When you remain in the shower next time, check and also see if you're in the shower.'

Being Mindful with Our Emotions

Mindfulness in 'real life' exceeds day-to-day tasks. Refining our understanding also relates to our emotions and also, in turn, our interactions with others.

' It's actually concerning aiding to see when we're getting in our own way, when we're taking something directly or obtaining captured up in something,' says Brewer. 'When we can focus and notice when we're getting captured up, we could much more conveniently release.'

In recent years, I have actually managed short-term durations of anxiety. When it obtained its claws into me excellent, I would certainly spiral into a full-on anxiety attack. The only thing that has actually assisted me transcend this has been present-moment awareness (a.k.a. seeing anxious feelings when they occur, after that exercising mindful breathing until they pass).

Swap out 'anxiousness' for rage, judgment, or competition ... mindfulness aids us familiarize our very own adverse idea patterns, which directly shapes our reactions to them. The domino rollovers into just how we engage with those around us.

' It's like the X baseball group being better than the Y baseball group,' claims Maker. 'Someone can have that view and also it can trigger a great deal of suffering, as well as suggesting with the various other baseball follower most likely isn't really mosting likely to help the world be a better location.'

Being Mindful with Our Relationships

One key advantage of mindfulness is that it improves our compassion. A 2013 research released in the journal Psychological Science discovered mindfulness practices to boost both empathy and also social harmony.

' I assume that when you have a mindfulness practice, you are much more aware as well as delicate not only to your personal sensations, yet to the feelings of others,' states Race. 'We're far better able to acknowledge exactly how our activities are being regarded. We're far better able to read circumstances and participate in problem-solving in a more efficient method.'

When it involves connections, arguments are just foregone conclusion. Just what if rather of excavating in your heels as well as sticking to your point of view, you enabled your companion to feel just what they're really feeling without passing judgment? What happens if you expanded a thoughtful ear, loosening your hold on the need for you to be ideal and them to be wrong?

Give it a try throughout your next argument with your companion. Chances are, you'll have a more productive discussion.

' When we feel psychological or triggered or during dispute, it goes back to us running from the survival mechanism in the mind, or exactly what I call the alarm system component of our brain,' Race adds. 'When we're feeling caused like that, that's not the most effective time to fix issues because that alarm bypasses the prefrontal cortex. It makes it tough to even listen properly.'

Remember, exercising mindfulness strengthens the prefrontal cortex, making us far better able to weather these storms. It likewise aids us acknowledge that one more person's anger/resentment/hostility-which are all kinds of suffering-aren' t points we have to personalize. However, they're feelings that are pleading for compassion.

Mindfulness can also be a transformative parenting device. Take a trip to any neighborhood park as well as you'll likely observe a dominant fad: Children using the play ground while their moms and dads peck away at their mobile phone displays. Being conscious with our children is something that's as simple as placing away the electronics.

' Notice if you're caught up in your phone, then see if you could place your phone away and also look your kid in the face when they ask you an inquiry,' says Brewer. 'Frequently, simply that quantity of interest is enough for them to recognize they're still liked because minute.'

Mixing Mindfulness with a Formal Contemplative Practice

While casual mindfulness techniques are without a doubt important on their very own, supplementing these initiatives with a formal reflective practice isn't really a bad idea.

' It's hard to just exercise informally. It's actually tempting as well as sounds terrific and also very easy, but it's hard,' claims Race. 'If you could take the time to invest five or 10 minutes resting on the pillow and also exercising conscious breathing, you'll really feel much more present and engaged throughout the day.'

A routine reflection practice will only enhance your initiatives to be much more mindful in your everyday life. Race adds that it also tops the brain to ensure that conscious living comes a lot more quickly. If a formal practice appears frightening, begin with baby actions. Just a couple of minutes a day could set the phase for more intentional living.

[marymosley]

High School Bars Student From Graduation Walk For Discussing Bullying And Sexual Assault At School

By Darren Smith, Weekend Contributor

After a high school senior chose to deviate from a pre-approved speech at an event and instead discussed allegations of bullying and assault at the school, administrators provided a learning opportunity of what bullying is really about–banning the student from his graduation walk.

While the school could have simply let the matter go, it instead managed to enshrine itself in an avoidable controversy simply because it could not see beyond the administration’s collective egos and will suffer the resultant benefits of its actions: National embarrassment. 

KOIN newscast reported two days ago of a senior at Vancouver, WA’s Heritage High School chose to disregard an “approved” written speech before the student body and instead took it upon himself to announce what he believed to be the failure of the school to address allegations of sexual assault, harassment, and bullying among students. He encouraged lower classmates to bring these injustices to the forefront and to work toward a safer academic environment in the coming years. Such a transgression drew the ire of the school’s administration which led to the decision to bar him from the graduation walk as a form of punishment.

Excerpts from the graduation speech included:

“Through the years of high school, you will realize you can only count on yourself,” he says. “You will get made fun of. You will walk through these halls and get called ‘stupid,’ ‘ugly,’ an ‘idiot,’ a ‘piece of crap’ and so many, many more insults…To you underclassmen who have to endure the things the school throws at you for 2 or 3 more years, a school where the administration closes their eyes to everything that happens in the school; the sexual assault, the bullying, the depression, the outcasts — and they do nothing to fix it. They just cast it aside like it’s nothing, or if they do take notice they take the side of the accused and not the victim. And I feel sorry for you.”

It should be recognized that this graduation speech was made by a student for the students, in their own language and for their benefit. That is the purpose of a graduation speech, not the purview of school administration who take it upon themselves to dictate content for which they alone approve.  Judging from the resounding cheers by the student body, I would say the speech garnered much acclaim and identification.

While I cannot of course substantiate the claims of this student, nothing for which he claims sounds implausible given the nature of a high school and children of that age generally.  Rather than partaking in some soul searching by the faculty in how to address their approach to whatever shortcomings might have led a student to say such things, they instead seemed to move with a resolve to punish this student while he was still within their grasp, the final moment for which they have jurisdiction over him, the graduation walk. A coward’s act from a jilted administrator had only his press release to confirm who were the true bullies at the school:

Statement from Principal Derek Garrison:

“Yesterday, during our traditional “Moving Up” assembly, a student speaker departed from his pre-approved comments. He referenced a number of perceived negative aspects of the school, telling underclassmen they will deal with these issues during high school. As the speech went on, the student referenced his perspective of a story heard which involved another student. His comments had many inaccuracies, inflammatory statements and unsubstantiated accusations.

Administrators called the student in afterward to explain how spreading rumors and inaccurate information was extremely problematic. We met with him at great length, discussing several options for a restorative resolution, or as a final option, if the student didn’t want to work towards a resolution, disciplinary options would be undertaken (per school district policy) that could include not walking at the upcoming graduation ceremony. After considering the options, he opted to not participate in graduation.

Following the conversation with the student, his parent came to speak with administration. Shortly thereafter, a social media account attributed to the student posted an offensive and blatantly false statement about the conversation that took place with his parent – a statement I whole-heartedly, categorically and emphatically refute.

Even when people speak about very real and serious problems in the world in which we live, if they add untruths about other people, including students and staff, it can be considered harassment and bullying. When untruthful comments are made in public forums, such as hallways, classrooms or assemblies, we need to be mindful of their potential effect on others, and have a duty to protect them.

The staff at Heritage High School is dedicated to ensuring the physical and emotional safety of our students. Depression, mental health, bullying, sexual assault, and the right to not be falsely accused of such, are all very valid concerns. We work hard at ensuring our students are physically and emotionally safe every day. We thank you for your support of your children and the school in that common goal.”

My first impression upon reading the principal’s excuse was what happened to the confidentiality that schools seem to herald about internal discipline matters. It seems here that covering the school’s backside took priority over confidentiality. But regarding the topic at hand there was nothing contained within the speech that justified a barring the student from the graduation walk.  There was nothing in the speech that constituted an actionable defamation or slander. It did not have actual malice and nothing the student said was “shocking to the conscience.” In my opinion it was more a subjective measure of the administration’s alleged indifference to the problems at the school and if anything served as an example of a public participation exercise of free speech and a form of calling for the petition of the government for an address of his grievances. A school district in Washington State is a municipal corporation and it retaliated against this student for exercising his free speech rights and in a way he was punished for not speaking the compelled speech that the school approved.

On Friday, two hundred students staged a walk-out in support of the student.

At the time of publication of this article I haven’t seen if this row has been resolved or not. I cannot predict which way this will go and if the student will be permitted at the graduation walk. I can easily see the administration digging in its heals in a typical bureaucrat manner. But if they had any sense of self-preservation of their credibility they better think of damage control being more important than saving face or egos.  It is my belief that if they fail to allow this student his graduation ceremony he would have cause to take legal action against the school. We’ll see if the school chooses its battles well or not.

By Darren Smith

The views expressed in this posting are the author’s alone and not those of the blog, the host, or other weekend bloggers. As an open forum, weekend bloggers post independently without pre-approval or review. Content and any displays or art are solely their decision and responsibility.

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