#and i think that a lot of nightmare's struggle is essentially trying to escape that

[undertalebabbleblog]

Was there every any hope for Dream and Nightmare?

Could they have stayed in their universe, stayed together, stayed happy?

Maybe. But somehow, I can't see it, at least not after the village comes into the picture. They might have been able to stay in their own little bubble forever, but as soon as that outside force exists, the clock starts ticking.

It was Nightmare who couldn't take it anymore. But it could have easily been Dream. Either way, it was only a matter of time. I don't think there was any avoiding it, not really. Not in their situation, not with who they are.

Nightmare. The scapegoat, the dark one, the moon, the night. Tied to his brother by his very name, because even though he wasn't a nightmare, he's Dream's opposite, and that is all he was ever seen as by others. The dark to Dream's light, the negativity to Dream's positivity. Always defined by his brother, even before he was hurt for merely existing. Did he ever really get to be his own person?

And Dream, the golden one, the perfect one, the kind one, the sun. Always so helpful and positive. Always in demand, because who doesn't want to be happy? Their happiness is his responsibility. So he smiles, he helps, he conceals all the stress and sadness and anger and grief. He can't be seen with negative emotions, he can't effect others with his own feelings, he can't let his own feelings or needs or self matter when there's always other people who need him. So he keeps up that sunshine mask, keeps all the clouds and rain and storms locked in the dark where nobody can see them.

You can't maintain masks like that under enough built-up pressure. Eventually, something breaks.

Maybe they still had a chance. Broken things can heal, after all. Maybe they could have helped each other, grown, figured out a way to make things better.

Or maybe they were doomed from the start.

All I know is that if one didn't break, the other would have eventually.

[ronin-deactivated19851026]

i feel like my brainworms are legit nerfing me

oversharing ahead but i honestly don't care nor see this as a big deal. what's the point of living if i can't talk about my life

i'm not sure what to do about it... one thing they don't warn about when it comes to recovery, you kind of go "backwards" in your timeline, unfolding deeper and deeper traumas. this leads to addressing needs that for most healthy individuals have been satisfied during appropriate stages of development. and it's kind of hard to navigate through, and the deeper into childhood, the harder. and the dumber some issues are.

like...

i identified one of major sources of my art block through noticing the same pattern while learning japanese. i have an exam next month, and i'm sitting here just clowning around, avoiding touching my workbooks. i don't have any struggles learning it. in fact, i'm catching things quickly and if i practiced, i would have been better. but i just can't make myself study, and the block is so strong, it's paralyzing me the same way my art does.

why learn or do anything, if 1. there are people who are better at it, from those who studied better to native speakers, or in case with art, are more creative and have been going to art school since they fell out of the womb 2. i get nothing from it, no praise, no attention, nothing. no change in attitude towards me (this phrasing suits better, considering what i'm about to say next)

and one can think of bajillion things to debunk these points. like, who the fuck cares, do what you like, engage in things that make you happy, also learning skills or expressing oneself through art doesn't render "nothing" as a result, like, it's obvious how both can be monetized, if we're going for "practical" needs, and how many other opportunities await me that can broaden horizons and enrich my existence.

but... but.

the entity we're trying to tell these things isn't the current, conscious mind of 30 year old me.

it's an ostracized, bullied, weird tween that seems to be doing good at school, where the kid finds escapism from issues at home. the kid is called a goddamn little genius at first, but eventually it all becomes boring or doesn't go in line with school program, it's annoying, the kid is fucking annoying too, can't come up with anything useful or worthy everyone's time. so the kid scribbles random shit to escape or vent about both school and home life. or just embraces art. and hey, looks like these skills are cool and complex enough to catch everyone's attention once again and be the cool artist daughter/cousin/friend/whatever i was called to have, i'm considered talented and useful again. for a while. didn't last long because it's all still essentially useless. aaaaaaaaaaaaaa help

(ok random cringy note but i have been thinking recently how fandom often draws spamton the way i used to dress in my mid teens; the time when every bit of hope or resemblance of peace in my life crashed beyond retrieve. he's my spirit animal now)

like. words and lack of full background (which i won't go into in public obviously sjxjskxsxj) can't really explain why something that doesn't sound like a big deal as i type it left such a huge impact on me. my life at home was like a pure nightmare at some point, and came with serious baggage i still yet to unpack. my life at school sucked a lot, except for two years where i switched schools and it brought some relief, albeit temporarily. there were days where i would spend a whole night up, being on full alert for any random reason, including physically fighting or eavesdropping every noise i can hear behind my door, hoping i won't get stabbed or raped in my sleep. that's why i have issues sleeping these days and wake up from every tiny fucking noise. and after that, i would go to school and say i literally couldn't do my homework and none of these fuckheads cared, they called me useless, lazy, and threatened with consequences. yeah, "being useful" became tied close to "having a right to live" because of all the fucking mess that went on, the puzzle is coming together.

~

as i was reading pete walker's book "complex ptsd: from surviving to thriving", bits about describing traumatized children growing into completely dysfunctional adults, to the point where they're on disability and literally can't function at all, i thought about how i essentially sabotaged myself through thing i described above.

if i didn't deliberately ruin everything, i may have had a network of artists at this point, probably opportunities that i can't even think of, stable income, probably also a stable community, but i just dipped right when i was getting more and more interesting commission requests, getting more known, merch being done with my art, people being interested in my stuff, getting some cool opportunities, some of which were even about to spread outside fandom circles...

that hole of void inside, that feeling of uselessness and not being enough, has been growing (along with other issues i had, but still) until it burst and i was avoiding it all like plague, saying "no" to everyone who came to me until they stopped coming, obsessing over being the lamest artist featured everywhere, being afraid to create because it felt like i'm ruining paper/canvas/digital spaces/etc with my essence, that i'm not allowed to make myself present in anyone's life, unless i earned that right through being "useful", and even then i still experienced paranoia and severe anger issues and so, so, so many other things that led me to be diagnosed with a mood disorder, a personality disorder, and then put on antipsychotics and antidepressants.

...

you know, now that i'm typing this all out, i'm thinking that this made it all even worse. i'm even more scared of approaching these issues, because now they have a "take a pill and shut up" layer to it. "you're born useless and don't have a place among us, sedate yourself so you stop being a nuisance to everyone". "no, the world is completely fine, you're the broken one". "normal people live fine with X and Y, you're just crazy, delusional, sick, yOuR BraIn ChEmIcAlS ArE OfF meNtAL iLLness Is WHen Ur BraIn Is BrokeN1!1 MentAl DisorDers ExisT In VacUuM U jUsT WeRe BorN MenThollY EEL TAKE THIS COCKTAIL OF DANGEROUS DRUGS WITH A BUNCH OF SIDE EFFECTS THAT WILL KILL THE REST OF YOUR MIND!!111"

i have no idea in the fucking slightest what to do. i'm doing much, much better than ever. i could even say, i'm very close to being normal, at least in the way i define it. but everything that has to do with vague definition of occupation, hobby, and collective/community? i'm kinda just brute forcing things as of now, idk.

but i don't think i can push it this way for long, cuz... progress in my skills doesn't heal. using a new language doesn't heal. finishing projects, no matter how fun or cool, doesn't heal. getting praised for these doesn't heal. getting paid for my art (or anything at all in theory) doesn't heal. socializing doesn't heal, i just do it in spite of lil demon behind my shoulder constantly whispering me that i'm everyone's laughing stock/annoyance/whatever and everyone i'm interested in wants me away. having some people prove these delusions to me in the past few years didn't help either.

maybe i'll come to solution later, as i always do, but as of now... i'm stuck and i don't know where to start

[adragonsfriend]

What the Kenobi show could’ve been:

Essentially slice of life episodes of Obi-Wan living on Tatooine. It starts with him fairly soon after he arrived, but after he’s kind of set up in his first home there (maybe the cave, but I’m imagining that he potentially lived in multiple different places). He’s still deeply haunted by Order 66 and Mustafar. He has nightmares, drinks too much, takes risks he shouldn’t, isn’t meditating as much as he should because it’s too hard to confront what’s in him mind, etc. His lightsaber sits out, unused but always there to stare at.

Some episodes are just him struggling through living alone in an environment he’s not used to. Storms, vaporators breaking, the dumb shit he does to keep himself from boredom. Trying to play crèche games by himself that really weren’t designed for one person.

Every once in a while he gets a visitor. Turns out his cave is on a (relatively speaking) well traveled path through the dune sea, so the visitors range from tuskens to farmers to freed people or recently escaped slaves to bounty hunters. The first time someone stumbles in, he has to quickly hide his lightsaber away so they don’t see it, and after that he hides it properly, burying it in the sand. Various conflicts arise, between Obi-Wan and visitors, or between visitors, and they get worked out. A couple of times he does some variously magical thing in front of people.

Eventually, we get to hear the nickname Old Ben, the wizard in the dune sea. But it’s just Obi-Wan, making a home in a place he never expected to be.

The series ends one day when Obi-Wan hits his head while doing some boring chore in the pre-dawn and he goes… oh huh yeah I think I let go of everything. I’m okay, actually. Then he goes and sits down to meditate, and the first sun rises.

This format could achieve any number of things;

Repair old sins with the Tuskans by developing their culture into something complex enough to account for horrific violence, wonderful kindness and simple mundanity. Or at least provide a variety of examples.

Obi-Wan hunts and eats rats

World build about the moisture farmers. Give Obi-Wan, Beru, and Owen a couple interactions, and a slightly more complicated relationship. Maybe they end up knowing a little more about Anakin.

Obi-Wan eats bugs

World build Tatooine into something more complex than “ass end of the galaxy.”

Obi-Wan rides a bantha. Badly. Maybe to save someone from a stampede, maybe for fun

Make it clear Tatooine society can’t be fixed by the intervention of a single person: it’s more complicated than that. But one person can help the people around them, and a hermit’s cave makes a decent temporary safe haven, or pit stop on a long journey.

Obi-Wan makes friends with some anooba, who steal his bread

Develop Obi-Wan’s devotion to watching over Luke as a slow, quiet duty, rather than an epic adventure. The narrative would center Obi-Wan & normal people, rather than having to bring in Vader.

Obi-Wan gets sand in his eye

Could still feature lots of flashbacks to Anakin as a Padawan, just with Tatooine as the constant backdrop. This could serve to expand the audience’s understanding of Anakin far in a very different way than seeing him on his revenge quest.

Obi-Wan goes on an epic quest to find bedding because his back hurts from sleeping on rocks

Screw all current projects and also good storytelling. I want a star wars media where characters spend like 10 episodes getting engrossed in some wild epic problems they are trying to solve and when it all is going downhill in the last like half hour of episode 10 and you’re thinking it’s about to be the worst tragedy ever, a Jedi shows up. Just some random ass Jedi. Not from out central cast and not from the council. Just some knight barely done being a Padawan. They show up and within 15 minutes solve the entire problem and that’s it. That’s the end of the show. Jedi shows up solves all the problems. No more narrative tension, no grand resolution for the other characters. No angst and certainly no tragedy. They just watch while thd Jedi performs a miracle in ten minutes. C’est fini.

They’d call it bad storytelling. And they’d be right but I would’ve made my rhetorical point so who’s really winning here

[tenndderr]

Hello it is I again

So I've been getting a lot of nightmares recently and been scared to go back to sleep :(

Do you think you could write HC's for George comforting the reader after they had a nightmare?

(George is my comfort streamer after all)

hello again! and of course i can!

i hope that you've been able to get some more rest :')

TW; nightmares, curse words

my full masterlist

have a request? let me know <3

george nightmare comfort hcs

- the first night it happens george is sitting up beside you instantly

- not only because he’s a light sleeper but you jerking up forward with a small gasp made something in him wake tf up

- he looks just as scared as you do as he watches you try to level your breathing and take in your surroundings

- but i have a feeling that he has struggled with nightmares every now and then, so he is quick to pull you into his chest so you don't have to focus on anything but him

- back rubs all night

- he would never pressure you into talking about them until you were ready

- he tries to hide how worried he is when he gently brings it up the next morning though

- he's fiddling with his thumbs and bouncing one knee because the last thing he wants to do is trigger whatever caused your previous nightmare

- but if they start happening more often, he knows how to comfort you better and what will calm you down

- but even then, he just wants you to be able to sleep again

- will defiantly confide into dream or sapnap on what helps them fall asleep

- if they ask why, he just ignores them and starts googling things

- he read somewhere that soft light, candles, and lavender can help, so he buys all of those things that day

- acts super excited all day, waiting for you to start yawning or talking about how you're feeling sleepy before grabbing your hand and leading you to your shared room!!!!

- he has a candle on his side of the bed that is illuminating a soft glow in the room

- along with a book he wanted to read to you as he tucks you in bed and lets you lay on his chest

- probably bought lavender essential oils and had to watch youtube videos on how to use them

"baby, what are you doing?"

"be still bun, i have to apply this to your temples."

- will sit down and talk to you about doing yoga together because dream taught him exercises that he does to relax

- tried to give you a massage one night but you had to ask him to stop through fits of laughter because baby you're a gamer for a reason

- can you imagine when he streams people always tease him about his sleep schedule and how he is always out of the loop with things

- DREAM SMP COUGH COUGH

- and everyone assumes it's because he has adapted to dream's sleep schedule

- when in reality, the moment he sees your eyes get droopy or hears a soft yawn escape your lips, he is taking a nap with you

- so now his sleep schedule is just a mess because he tries to sleep with you whenever your body lets you

- he may not push with nightmares, but i feel like he wouldn't leave room for arguing when you tried to argue or fight him about sleeping

- i have this theory that because he went through phases where he had nightmares, he doesn't want you to go through what he did and never sleep

- he might feel a little off when it comes to comforting people or really anything with feelings

- but with you, he is constantly reassuring that he doesn't mind staying up with you, as long as it takes

- if you really can't go back to sleep, he will run a bath with you and fill it with lavender soap because he bought so much lavender shit im

- will cup your cheeks and wipe away your tears with his thumb gently, eyes looking down at you with such adoration and yet concern because gosh he loves you so much and wishes he could do more than just hold you closer

- OKAY THIS MIGHT BE TOO SOFT BUT

- george will never sing in front of anyone but you, so when he starts softly humming or gently singing a song to calm you down it makes you melt because AGH WHAT

- he will be so blushy and you will have to pretend to not notice because you know he just wants to make you feel so so safe

"i like that song."

"yeah? i can sing it again if you want?"

- i just really feel like he would be so patient with you when it comes to these types of things and wouldn't care about anything but taking care of you :')

- sleepy george with eyes all puffy and red from rubbing them tiredly while giggling at every little thing you say before splashing bubbles at you

- he is still a simp

[zeta-in-de-walls]

Tommy and the role of ‘hero’

Hey, this little essay is discussing how Tommy’s character has struggled with being called a hero and hows it’s been a significant part of his character arc for Season 2 of the SMP. It’s not a title he ever gave himself yet it’s a title he’s burdened with all the same. 

Funnily enough, I don’t recall Tommy ever being called a hero before Technoblade’s damning speech on Nov 16th, where he compared Tommy to Theseus. 

Tommy you just did a coup. You just did a hostile Government takeover and then immediately instilled yourself as President. And then you gave it to your friend but that’s still a tyrant Tommy.

But the thing about this world Tommy, is that good things don’t happen to heroes. Let me tell you a story Tommy, a story of a man called Theseus. His country, well his City-State technically, was in danger and he sent himself forward into enemy lines. He slayed the Minotaur and saved his city. You know what they did to him Tommy? (”What did they do?”) They exiled him. He died in disgrace, despised by his people. That’s what happens to heroes Tommy. The Greeks knew the score. But if you want to be a hero Tommy, that’s fine. 

Do you want to be a hero, Tommy? Then die like one!

Technoblade’s speech is a frustrating one at first. It begins by essentially calling Tommy a power hungry tyrant despite that being far from the truth - Wilbur was the one who formed the Government and Tommy rejected power. He trusted it to Wilbur who then chose Tubbo. Schlatt wasn’t even killed by Tommy, he died of a heart attack after being abandoned by every one of his allies so it wasn’t even really much of a takeover at all and it wasn’t Tommy. Yet this speech was entirely directed at Tommy.

But the latter half is different, accusing Tommy instead of trying to be a hero who thinks he’s saving the world and that he’s doomed to have a bad end. It’s interesting as never has Tommy claimed to be much of a hero. Tommy’s always just fought for the things he cared about. Indeed his response to Techno’s speech suggests the same.

“I’m not the hero. No one’s the hero! We’ve got L’Manburg for each other.”

But of course, Techno’s words stick with him all the same. Particularly the bit about a tragic end as Tommy becomes very, very aware of his own mortality in the arcs that follow. To Techno, a hero seems to be a naive figure who tries to do good but is destined for failure and tragedy. 

But there’s another path Tommy fears even more. One that he’s witnessed firsthand. Becoming the villain.

Let’s be the bad guys. Tommy, why not? Our nation’s gone. our nation’s far behind us, Tommy. Let’s blow that motherf*cker to smithereens. Tommy, I say if we can’t have Manburg, no one - no one can have Manburg! ...L’Manburg.

This is a new era! We burn the place to the f*ckin ground, I want no crops to grow there ever again.  I want f*ckin mycelium and cobblestone, it all covered, Tommy. I want it all gone! 

Tommy, let’s be villains.

Wilbur was Tommy’s hero. He loved Wilbur dearly and wanted nothing more than to be a good right-hand to him and make him proud. But when they lost L’Manburg and were banished, Tommy saw Wilbur changing, saw him giving up home and deciding he’d rather destroy the thing they’d worked for and blow it all up. After Wilbur made this speech, Tommy argued, making it clear he was entirely against his plans. Even saying that it wasn’t the moral thing to do. He said not to give up hope, that everyone wasn’t against them and that Wilbur’s ideas were reckless. But he stayed with Wilbur and continued to support him, hoping that he could convince him to change his mind. Tommy failed. And Wilbur died.

So, the Tommy at the start of S2 just wants to go back to his old life, a simpler time where he doesn’t have to worry about L’Manburg anymore as it’s in safe hands and he can focus on his personal concerns once more - like his music discs. He doesn’t want to be a hero or a villain, he merely wants to be happy again in a world without Wilbur. 

But there’s someone else watching him. Dream. 

I think it’s no coincidence that Dream wanted Tommy exiled by his own people. I think he was deliberately trying to make Techno’s speech into a reality. Dream had become rather obsessed with Tommy and treated all their interactions like a fun game where he played the villain and Tommy, the hero. It’s not a narrative Tommy himself liked but all he could do was play along. 

Dream had him exiled and this seriously pushed Tommy to his limits. On the first day, Techno briefly visited and asked him why he was still trying and he answered that he always gets back up and he would keep on fighting Dream. But as his exile progressed he slowly lost his will to fight. Slowly Tommy stopped believing that his exile would ever come to an end and that people still cared. 

In exile Tommy had a lot of time for reflection. Here’s something Tommy says days into his exile when he’s begun to lose all hope and is starting to accept that maybe Dream’s his only friend. 

Everyone always tells me I was the- the hero of this server. The one that came and f*ckin fought Dream - the only one that ever spoke back to him. But maybe I was just... maybe this was just meant to be. 

Tommy’s got complicated feelings about being a hero. To him it means standing up to Dream, never giving up - that’s what he believed people expected of him. But in his exile, he began to give in to Dream. He begins to express how no one cares and that the only reason they ever pretended to care was when he had status - when he was part of L’Manburg. There’s this implication that he felt like people only cared about him when he was being the selfless hero. When he was trying to be selfish for once, causing trouble like he used to and wanting to focus on his personal disc war rather than on L’Manburg, he got exiled. (Of course, this is Tommy’s biased perspective not how others actually viewed him.)

Tommy eventually escaped his exile, finding renewed courage to fight against Dream. Except, he’s still scared and uncertain and feels confused about Dream. He feels lost and clings onto Technoblade for support. 

With Technoblade, Tommy starts to feel more like himself - but Techno also influences Tommy, turning him more against his friends. (I think Techno’s character genuinely thought they didn’t truly care about Tommy, likely not realising how much they had also been manipulated by Dream.) Technoblade gently encourages Tommy to be more violent and wants him to help blow up L’Manburg. 

This is where Tommy’s fear about becoming more like Wilbur come into play. Tommy did not want to become a bad guy - he’d had nightmares about it even. But in his time with Technoblade, after how helpless he’d been during his exile, being given some power lead Tommy to start lashing out more violently, he began to get more aggressive - alarmingly so even. Technoblade’s path was one of revenge, dealing with his own pain by causing others to suffer (for noble goals, fighting corruption etc I don’t want to get sidetracked though this is about Tommy). Technoblade’s presence was helpful to Tommy, helping him to get over much of his fear but he still lacked in agency and still felt lonely knowing he hadn’t made up with his friends.

Tommy finally came to his senses at the festival, where he realised he was fighting his best friend and putting his personal attachments - his discs - over Tubbo. And that was wrong. He realised he was becoming just the sort of person he didn’t want to be - he had been on the path to becoming like Wilbur. And he rejected that path. He wasn’t going to be a bad guy. Just because he was hurt didn’t justify hurting others. So he reconciled and once more committed to protecting L’Manburg, having put his personal desires aside. It seemed like he’d put himself into the role of selfless hero yet again.

And he failed. Again. 

Dream tells him how it was a fun game to him. And how their story was not over. Tommy though, had become extremely tired of it. He didn’t want to play Dream’s game. 

They meet up again. And again, Dream talks to Tommy like he’s important - like he’s the key to everything. He wants Tommy to play the role of hero and has been manipulating events for a long time to keep pushing him, to keep taking things from him. Being a hero, which Dream believes Tommy wants, simply means playing along with Dream’s narrative.

Tommy, you want to be a hero, right? You want to be the hero of the server. And every hero needs an origin story, right? Batman had his parents, Spiderman had uncle Ben, you have Tubbo, right? 

In the end, Tommy refuses to play Dream’s game anymore though. He called for help and got saved by everyone else. Then he killed Dream twice and had him locked away for good.

And once more, Tommy decided to do things for himself again. He decided to live peacefully, working on a project, talking to various people on the server and trying to avoid making waves and getting into any more conflict. It’s a good end.

He rejected Wilbur’s path and he defied Technoblade’s predictions and he didn’t lose his best friend to Dream. And now Tommy’s trying to avoid playing the role of hero anymore. It’s not a title he ever gave himself but one thrust upon him. Yet it’s one he’s keenly aware of. And one that, despite everything, he can fulfil.

Tommy’s arc has been in some respects about defying the expectations of others - but he also can’t help but fight for the things he loves. He realises his troubles were not that his friends didn’t care or that he had to play a role but that his life was being controlled by Dream and now he’s free of that. No longer is he so weighed down by expectations but when there is a sufficiently threatening enemy, he has not lost his determination to challenge it. 

[wrdn-tabris]

i dont think these games are so much unheard of but they are older and were probably more popular when they came out

but then again i talk about them all the time so ky perception might be skewed

DISHONORED

You play as Corvo Attano, Lord Protector to Empress Jessamine Kaldwin and her young daughter Emily. after months of being abroad trying to find a cure to the deadly rat plague you return to the city of Dunwall empty handed, and end up being framed for the murder of the empress.

WHAT I LOVE ABOUT THIS GAME is just the overall atmosphere. Dunwall is a dark and bleak city, and both the art direction and the music scored really helps being you into the moment. I also love the karma system, called chaos. Your actions as Corvo and wether you kill to get your revenge or venture down paths that side step killing have a direct impact on how the story ends and how Emily grows. Along with the lore you discover through the npcs and through journal entries, the very real and uncaring God in the Outsider, this game hs such a special place in my heart. It’s available on steam and xbox 360

DRAGON AGE ORIGINS

Out of one of SIX origins (Human Noble, Human/Elf Mage, Dwarf Noble, Dwarf Commoner, City Eld, Dalish Elf) you are conscripted to join the ranks of the noble Grey Wardens to stop the darkspawn and the Blight. Despite where you cane from, you and your fellow wardens are branded as traitors due to the crushing defeat in the battle of Ostagar, and must rally support to fight against the archdemon and stop the blight.

Dragon Age is really the epitome of a fantasy putting you in charge of whats left of the shattered grey wardens and putting what is essentially a college freshman in charge or saving the entire country. What I love most about it is the characters and option to really feel like your choices matter in DAO. In my opinion DAO is the best out of the series, the companions are fun and memorable, and overall its just a fun fantasy game. It’s available on PC, xbox 360, and ps3.

LITTLE NIGHTMARES 1&2

An adorably dark platformer/horror game, in the first game you play as a young girl named Six who wakes up to find herself in someplace called the Maw, and struggles to escape. It very much is a horror so it has some dark and potentially triggering scenes so i encourage you to look it up yourself. It’s a platformer that deals with a lot of puzzles and trying to find the right way t escape from an enemy. The second gane follows Mono, a young boy and its also so so good.

Available for PC and switch.

KOTOR 1&2

IF YOU LIKE STAR WARS these are great games. Much older, but they still hold up.

In both you play as a jedi, either learning or re-learning how your powers work in the force. These games take place hundreds or years before the original and prequel trilogies. The first one was developed by bioware who did DAO while the second was Obsidian who did FNV if im not super mistaken. The first, you are a young person who is thrown into a galactic war and discovering that you are force sensitive in your adulthood, while in the second you play as a Jedi Exile, being hunted down by the sith. In both you recruit companions to your cause, and your morality slides on the dark or light aide depending on your choices.

available on PC, orignal xbox but backwards compatible on 360c and switch.

Hey can anyone tell me about some of their favorite games that no one's ever heard of?

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Feeling very emotional about how you depict the trauma of having abuse in a household which isn't directed at you. Ryan and Izzy mean a lot to me. It really isn't something which is talked about enough, especially when it causes PTSD and huge guilt. (I know Izzy is also abused but I mean in the context of witnessing one parent abusing another). I'm just blown away by how nuanced and compassionate your depiction of trauma is.

Ryan and Danny very much hit the Golden Child/Scapegoat dynamic of emotional abuse, and while Ryan has it "easy", he also struggles with the reality of what that has meant for Danny, and with guilt and regret over the times when they were young that he allowed Danny to take the blame for him, or didn't speak up or try to defend him.

As an adult, he does his best to make up for it, knowing that he can't. But he and Danny are inseparable and always were, regardless of whatever else happens to them.

But, yeah, I think there's a particular kind of awful sharp guilt that the Golden Child can live with when they realize what it meant for the Scapegoat child.

As for Izzy, @comfy-whumpee and I have at length about how their Jax and Izzy become essentially unhealthily codependent, because Izzy is already forced to essentially be a second parent to her infant brother even when she is only four years old - she knows how to change his diapers and can get out one of his readymade bottles or snacks when he's hungry. She echoes her father's actions in turning down food if it means her little brother might not have enough, because the example she has of a parent who loves her is a parent who is forced to accept abuse to keep himself and his children alive and together.

One thing about Izzy is that she and Jamie undergo very different early childhoods. Izzy is four years old when Jax escapes and retains some fairly clear memories and fears. She has a lot of nervous issues, is diagnosed with severe anxiety, struggles to speak up in school and with severe delays in her social development and some significant academic delays, because she is so scared all the time that her brain struggles to soak up and create the kind of social connections other kids her age are making. Jax (and the other servants) did what they could but Izzy suffered from a chaotic mix of Jax's love and Savvie's neglect or outright violent hostility, and her development is very affected by it.

Also, Jax was so overwhelmed and traumatized himself that he would often need to step away from parenting, and while Izzy and Jamie would be watched by Hannah, Izzy was keenly aware nonetheless that sometimes her father seemed like he couldn’t bear to be near her.

Jamie was a year old, and so he has no memories of Savvie directly. But he also has nightmares more often than is altogether normal for a small child as he grows up, and he reflects and responds to Izzy and Jax's trauma adaptations with his own - he's a little bit of a class clown (his ADHD feeds into that), he's light-hearted and always smiling. He focuses on drawing the two of them out of their fears as best he can without even realizing consciously that he's doing it. He also grows up knowing his father and sister both have complicated plans for what to do if Savvie somehow returns.

I wanted to show that while Izzy's trauma doesn't just fade, even though the main cause was during her early childhood. She retains a sense of being a 'second parent' to Jamie even after Kieran enters their lives and is their dad as much as Jax is. When there is the slightest hint of risk or danger, Izzy switches back into Jamie's Mom mode.

I don't know. I feel like there is often this sense in fiction of kids being so resilient, but resilience doesn't mean you don't still have to get through it, day by day. It doesn't mean it goes away. And so much of our brain development is affected by our early treatment. But it doesn't have to define us.

[barbecuebabybackribs]

Truly Damned (Male Angel-Demon Hybrid Reader x Jasper Hale)

Dating Jasper Hale was many things, the first thing that comes to mind is heavenly- although incredibly ironic- but one of the other thing I would say it was is difficult.

He’s a man who never has to ask what someones feeling, he just knows. So obviously when I walked in- not only his mate but the one person in his long life he’d ever met whom he couldn’t read? His interest was peaked to say the least.

Question after question, trying to find out why exactly I was immune to all vampiric powers, not only that but my scent was something he’d never smelt before, so heavenly but so easy to resist. With most humans he struggled to not bite down on there neck every  second he’s around them but not me, and he wants to know why.

Although that precise question is why I’m avoiding him now, trying to slowly make him realize he deserves so much better then a damned creature like me. I go against almost every religious text I’ve ever read- if they even bother to mention my kind at all.

A being born from the forbidden relations of a demon and an angel- it complicated my life to say the least.

Fortunately I was adopted at the mere age of three by a lovely older couple by the names Roxanne Seever and Delilah Seever, they didn’t know who I was or what I was but they loved me for me and that was enough.

However it didn’t last long, good things around me always seems to perish and Roxy was one of them- it all happened so quickly I could’ve done something but I just sat in shock as a semi headed right for our car, squeezed my eyes shut not wanting to witness what was about to happen and right when I heard the sounds of metal against metal and glass shattering- I felt nothing.

I opened my eyes and I was yards away from a picture that still to this day haunt’s me, I couldn’t see much but what I could killed me. The sight of the woman I called mom obviously launched from the wreck of a car mere feet behind her, laying on the ground breathing heavily, and blood surrounding her.

I could’ve done something, but I didn’t.

The ambulances came and carted us away but we all could see in her pale skin she was gone, and when I looked over and saw her cold lifeless face staring back at me that’s when I knew, I was the very thing I had nightmares of since I was a little boy.

I was left unscathed by my miraculous escape- as others called it. I just called it transmutation. I learned a lot since that day when I was a mere 12 years old, while my mother grieved yet never seemed to recover I became obsessed with finding out what I was, who I was, why I was created. It was years until I found out, but when they came to me, in my dreams. It all made sense.

They explained everything to me, how they and a demon had fallen in love however it wasn’t meant to be and they were torn from each other, but not before they fell pregnant- only possible due to the fact they were inhabiting a female body when the act took place.

It all made sense, all my years of searching and I finally got confirmation, I was a demon. A forbidden creature not even god could love, so I did what I thought was best and pushed everyone as far away from me as possible, and although it killed me to see my mother desperately trying to connect with me even through some of her darkest moments, I was doing what I thought was best.

My powers were completely out of control, the longer I lived the more powers showed up and the stronger they grew, transmutation, telekinesis, pyrokenisis, to many to name, and with each power came more struggle to keep my secret hidden, it was almost impossible to keep all of this bottled inside me,

And It was all going to plan, live my life never getting close to another person so they wouldn’t get hurt- that was of course until the new kid’s came to school- The Cullens- and among them was Jasper Hale, the man I would fall head over heels in love with and would completely change my life.

I tried my hardest to push him away but he wasn’t having any of it. He slowly chipped away at the walls I had so desperately built around myself, for months I slowly let him in, it was on the third month I officially befriended him, the fifth month I was fighting off a serious crush, and the six month was one I will forever cherish, the month he asked me out and I accepted so quickly embarrassment ate away at me. The eighth month he told me what he was and for just a moment I thought maybe he could understand, that we’d be safe with each other, and although I never told him what I was- I still felt as if he understood every part of me.

But that was crushed when a few days after our six month anniversary he was attacked by a group of nomad vampires, apparently my unusual scent still lingered on his brought them there- I was the reason they attacked him and he got hurt- although only slightly in vampire standard it still could have been much worse, he could’ve been killed.

I will never forget the image of him flashing in front of my, pure fear in his eyes as both his cold hands clamped around my shoulders, his voice faltered slightly as he asked if I was okay and if anything had happened. His blue shirt torn on his arms, new scars appeared under them, I  tried to ignore is but my head spun as he told me the events that had just taken place and I knew, I knew I was wrong. I knew he wasn’t safe with me.

And that’s why I’m pushing him away now, and this time I won’t let him tear down my walls in fear of him getting hurt because of me again- or even worse ending up like my mother.

But of course he wasn’t going to make that easy for me. It’s hard to explain to the man you love why you avoiding him when you can’t just casually say “Oh it’s because I’m a demon-angel hybrid and I don’t want you to die because everything good around me seems to die, my mother, my dog, happiness, kindness, all that good stuff. So I’ve decided to essentially shun you from my life. Okay bye have a nice day.”

So when I moved seats in class, didn’t sit with him at lunch, didn’t drive to school with him and hang out with him after school, didn’t even respond to his texts, he was slightly pissed, but mainly extremely concerned. What had happened? Was it something he did? Were you threatened by someone? Had you simply fallen out of love with him? Was he just not good enough?

He had to confront me, I knew it was coming but that didn’t make it any less heart wrenching. My chest ached as he confront me on my walk home, on the most secluded part of the route, his eyes were filled with pain as he asked a simple question, “Why?”

My throat went dry and I wrapped my arms around myself, the only source of comfort in this moment, I looked him dead in the eye and shook slightly as my entire facade dropped away in an instant, overwhelming guilt and despair washing over me, a single word caused my eyes to burn and water, my breath faltering despite my best efforts to keep it steady.

His golden eyes flooded with concern as he took in my pathetic state, “I can’t tell you.” I choked out, sucking in a jagged breath to try and calm myself but it only broke the damn in my eyes and tears streamed down my face- much to my dismay. In this moment as I looked at his confused and hurt eyes I envied his ability to not cry, it would make convincing him I don’t want to be with him much easier.

“Darling, what happened?” He said taking a step closer to me, “Why have you been so distant?”

I matched his step but backwards, wanting to keep distant because I couldn’t promise myself I wouldn’t fall into his arms if he got any closer.

“Nothing happened, Jasper. I just don’t think we are a good match.” I lied through my teeth, and I could see it on his face he knew it was a blatant lie.

“I don’t believe you, tell me what’s wrong Y/N. We can fix it, whatever it is we can work through it.” He promised, taking a quick step forward, this is so quick I couldn’t step away. I could only push him slightly by placing my hand on his chest, although he didn’t budge. He only held onto my hand while it was placed against his chest.

“Did I do something?” He asked, his brows furrowing as he stared at me, the pain in his eyes almost killed me and I couldn’t let him think he was the reason I didn’t want to be with him- he was the reason I wanted so badly to be with him, I was the reason I couldn’t.

“It’s nothing to do with you...” I mumbled trying to step back but his grip on my hand kept me in place, “Jasper please, let me go.” I said, referring to my hand although it had deeper meaning, I just needed him to let me go emotionally and physically.

“No, tell me what’s wrong,” He said cradling my hands gingerly although keeping a firm grip on them, “Whatever it is we can fix it-”

“No you can’t!” I shouted finally pulling my hands free, taking advantage of the fact that me raising my voice caused him to falter. I took a few steps back before running my now sweaty hands through my hair, I can’t do this... I can’t tell him.

“Please, Y/N. Whatever I did, I’ll make it better.” He practically begged, his usually steady voice quivering, irritation filled me and I finally burst, after all these years, my true self was finally revealed.

“No, Jasper! No you can’t, you can’t fix me! You’re not the problem I am, everything about me is damned- I’m quite literally a demon, I’m a monster in so many ways you will never understand, I can not be fixed like you said, you can’t fix this problem, I can never be fixed! Everything I love gets taken from me, my mothers, my friends, even my damn dog, I thought maybe you’d be safe, maybe you wouldn’t be affected by this damned curse, but no! You’ll just end up like everyone else!” I talked so fast my mind couldn’t keep up, I barely realize the burning sensation on my skin and the feeling of the wind hitting against my body but not in a sense I had ever felt before.

Looking over my shoulder I flinched at what I saw- there is not other way to say it other then the fact that I had sprouted wings, large and dark gray, filling the space behind me with large fuzzy feathers somewhat resembling a hawks feathers- but not only that small fires had lit themselves around my very being, causing the heat I had barely noticed before, this is it. He know’s I’m a monster, it only a matter of second before he leaves-

I was cut off by oh-so-familiar arms wrapping around me, pulling me into a tight hug, burying his face into my neck, I was so taken aback I could do nothing but stand almost limply in his arms, overwhelmed by a emotion I could not place but shocks of energy to each one of my nerves, but it sent a choked sob out of my throat and turned my stomach.

“It’s going to be okay, Y/N, Everything is going be alright.” his arms continued to embrace me, one of his hand resting on the back of my head and gently stroking my hair, although he was unable to soothe me via his powers, those simple words soothed me beyond imagine.

Finally letting a deep breath out the unimaginable weight I hadn’t realized was on my shoulders, I let myself fall into his arm, clutching at his freezing body like it was my only life line to this earth. Broken sobs leaving my lips as he supported my weight.

Once I had calmed down he finally let go of me, wiping the few stray tears from my cheek then ruffling my hair, without saying a single word he took my hand and started leading me away from where we had been, I looked over my shoulder- wings having dissipated at some point during the hug- and saw gray feathers blowing in the wind, scorch marks littering the ground around me.

“Jasper,” I said looking back over to him, “Where are we going?” I asked, He simply glanced at me, offering me a slight smile before stating simply “To the woods.”

“Jazzy that sounds like you’re going to kill me.” I mumbled but still followed him, knowing that was obviously not his intent.

Here only laughed at my statement, shaking his head slightly, if I could see his face I knew there would be a cheeky grin on his face and his gold locks would be perfectly framing his face- the thought made me want to make him look at me right now, however I continued to let him lead me deeper and deeper into the woods, before he let go of my hand- sighing in content.

“This will do.” He stated turning to me, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed.

“Will do for what exactly?” I questioned, he only smiled at me with that aggravatingly beautiful smile that just made me want to squeal like some twelve year old girl.

“For you to do some explaining.”

And with that he somehow convinced me to sit down and tell him all about my big secret- I had never even told him I witnessed my mother die in fear it would bring up to many questions, but now all my cards were out on the table and I spilled my soul to him. I told him about watching the life drain from my mothers body, how I spent months and years searching for answers, how my true “Mother” Visits me in my dream and explained everything, I told his I was technically a demon-angel hybrid, I told him how I pushed everyone away in fear my powers would become out of control as they so often did and cause someone to get hurt.

In the end it was nearly dark out, I had showed Jasper a small snippet of my power that I had showed him before, illuminating us with a small flame within my palm, he took my hand and pulled it closer,

“Hey, watch out Jasper it’s hot.” I said pulling away slightly so he wouldn’t hurt himself, although I quickly remembered he couldn’t feel the fire and it would simply wash over him, realizing my mistake I offered my hand again, a slight blush on my cheeks.

He remained motionless for a moment, before a grin spread across his face and he took my hand again, the hand that wasn’t gingerly caressing my hand floated above the flame, quickly dipping his fingers into the flame causing it to dance around him before pulling his hand away.

“Fascinating.” He almost gawked, looking me in my eyes, his eyes held a glint of fascination and an emotion I couldn’t place.

“What are you thinking about?” I quizzed, he let out a slight hum, letting go of my hand and standing from our position on the ground.

“You said you didn’t have full control of these powers?” He asked, however it sounded more like a statement.

“Yes..” I answered hesitantly.

“Well then,” He said before taking my hand and pulling me up so I was standing in front of him, “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

(I hope this was okay, I’m still suffering a tad from sick brain but I think it’s decent. @shamelessloverhairdopainter​ If this isn’t to your liking feel free to contact me and i’ll tweak it to your liking :) have a wonderful evening and stay safe everyone)

[likeiwishiknew]

Azriel x Gwyn - The Beginning

Read on AO3

The air was unnaturally cold. 

So cold that Gwyn could see her breath. She stood in the middle of the library, all of the lights turned down, in nothing but her nightdress. 

Not another soul was awake, at least none that she could sense. Gwyn couldn’t recall when or how she’d made her way down here. Nor did she remember why. She suspected she was on one of the lower floors from what she could make out. However, it was too dark for her to be certain which one.

A chill ran up her spine, and she could not escape the uneasy feeling that something or someone was watching her. Turning in place, she checked all sides. But she did not see anything out of the ordinary.  Still, her heartbeat picked up just as a cool wind breezed past her carrying the sound of a faraway voice. 

Find the book and bring it to me. It cooed. 

Gwyn spun in the direction of the voice, only to once again find nothing there. 

She waited for the voice to speak up again. But didn’t. Yet the feeling that she was being watched did not go away. Gwyn focused for a moment on its words. The voice had mentioned a book. There was only one book it could possibly be talking about, but that thought left her with far more questions than answers.

Who did the voice belong to? And why were they, or it, searching for the book?

Rhysand had made it clear to her that there might be great repercussions should the book fall into the wrong hands. The sense of foreboding she felt from the haunting voice had her more than inclined to believe him. Which left her all the more determined to do anything and everything she could to ensure that did not happen.

Gwyn turned back around only to catch sight of a faceless figure, its sharp teeth inches from her face. Her stomach dropped.

She tried to shout but discovered that she could not find her voice. A wave of terror rushed over her at the realization. And when Gwyn tried to shift away, she found she could not move. Icy dread crept into her veins. It was what she feared most. 

Helplessness. 

She was helpless.

She turned back around only to catch sight of a faceless figure, its sharp teeth inches from her face. Her stomach dropped. 

Gwyn tried to shout but discovered that she could not find her voice. A wave of terror rushed over her at the realization. And when she tried to shift away, she found she could not move. She was helpless. Icy dread crept into her veins.

The monster reached for her face, hands like claws, the second it touched her she jolted awake. 

Bolting up from her bed, sweat dripped down her brow, leaving her skin cold and damp. Her breath came in shallow bursts, her throat felt so tight it was a wonder she was breathing, as her heart all but beat out of her chest.

The remnants of her dream began to fade until only the fear remained. 

When she tried to recall the finer details of the dream her mind came back blank. Which had her fighting to remember, but no matter how she struggled the memory wouldn't return. 

Gwyn let out a sigh. Taking a deep breath, she calmed her breathing. Her heart rate slowly followed. 

She fell back onto her bed in a heap, confused and concerned, wondering if she closed eyes she might fall back into whatever nightmare had done this to her. 

Gywn turned her head to stare at the blank wall beside her bed. 

This was going to be a long night.

- - - 

It had been well over a week since he’d last seen or spoken to Gwyn. Nesta told him that Gwyn had a lot of work to catch up on in the library, thus her absence at morning training. 

And while that might’ve been partly true, he knew that wasn’t entirely the case. Gwyn was also avoiding him. Because of his conversation with Elain. 

His shadows should have warned him of her approach, and yet they hadn’t. Though the truth was they often did the strangest things around Gwyn. They reacted to her in ways that they never did anyone else. 

If she’d overheard his and Elain’s conversation. It stood to reason she might’ve thought he was admitting to still having feelings for Elain. But that wasn’t the case at all. He’d tried to find her countless times to explain as much to her, but every time he had gone to the library Clotho had told him Gwyn was too busy to see him.

Today was the first day he’d laid eyes on her since that night. 

He watched silently from across the ring as Gwyn practiced aiming her fire with Lucien. This was now the second time the male had come to see her. Azriel had been absent during the first visit due to a last-minute assignment from Rhys.

 But apparently, according to Cassian, the first lesson has been remarkably successful.

Lucien had managed to teach Gwyn how to call upon her fire. 

Azriel watched engrossed in her effort, sending her his quiet encouragement and support. Her eyes were bright and focused as she honed in a target across the ways from her. Her hands alight with fire. 

He watched her chest rise as she took in a deep breath and aimed, shooting her fire across the way. In a fury, the flames propelled forward toward their intended target - hitting them dead in the center.

Azriel saw her face go from serious to delighted. A small smile formed on his own lips at her feat. Gwyn jumped up and down in place. In her excitement, she ran straight into Lucien’s arms. With little hesitation, Lucien hugged in her turn, spinning her in a circle. A look of contented happiness on both of their faces.

Azriel could not remember a time he’d ever seen the other male so happy. Not even in the presence of his own mate.

The ease with which they embraced had him thinking it wasn’t the first time they’d done such a thing. 

And he loathed the very thought.  A part of him wanted to march over pull them apart. But he thought better of it. 

He called out to his brother instead.

“Rhys, I need you to call Lucien away.”

It took a beat, but his brother responded shortly thereafter. 

“Why is that?”

He had no time to explain. 

“Please just do it,” he shot back. 

Rhys was silent for a moment, and Azriel worried his brother would deny him this. Thankfully, his concern proved unwarranted.  

“Fine,” Rhys returned. 

He turned back to the duo just in time to see Lucien set Gwyn back into the ground. Azriel watched Lucien’s expression and posture stiffen, at which point he knew that Rhys had done as he asked.

He overheard Lucien informed Gwyn of as much.

“I must go,” the male told her. 

“Why?” she asked with a touch of concern.

“It would seem your High Lord wishes to speak with me.” 

Azriel saw Gwyn grow still and he got the feeling she knew exactly what he’d done.

But she did not comment on it, instead, she only nodded, “Alright,” she acknowledged. 

Lucien, not knowing her as Azriel did, didn’t pick up on the tiny shift in her tone. 

“I’m proud of you Little Red,” he said, rubbing the top of her head affectionately.

Gwyn smiled up at him, “Thank you.”

Lucien’s gaze went to him briefly. The other male’s eyes narrowed on Azriel. But he said nothing, simply headed straight for the stairs.

Azriel watched him go.

When he turned back to Gwyn he found her eyes set upon him. She started toward him and he opted to meet her halfway.

“Why did you have Rhysand call Lucien away?”

He stilled for a moment. It had been days since they’d last spoken and yet her first words to him were regarding Lucien.

Had she even missed him?

Was he only setting himself up for another heartbreak?

“That’s all you have to say?” he returned, voice coming out colder than he intended.

His tone clearly caught her off guard because she appeared less irritated and more concerned.

“Are you upset with me?” she questioned, sounding genuinely perplexed. He most certainly was upset. Though he wasn’t sure if he was upset with her or himself. 

“You ran to him,” he managed to say.

Gwyn’s brows inched together in confusion.

“With a look of pure joy on your face you ran into his arms,” Azriel continued. 

From the look on her face, she still did not quite understand. 

"Anyone looking in would think you loved him,” he finished. 

“I do love him,” she replied with little to no hesitation.

He felt something lodge in his throat, making it difficult to breathe.

“I know we’ve not known each other long but I feel a connection to him. He’s like family to me,” she defended, “Like Nesta and Emerie and you.” 

“I don’t want to mean the same thing to you that he does.” 

She took a step closer to him. 

“Then what do you want to be?”

He froze. 

And Gwyn all but sighed, “See you can’t answer. Because you don’t know what you want.” 

She moved to pass him. 

Unthinking, Azriel’s hand darted out and grabbed hold of hers. 

He spun her around and cupped her face, bringing their lips close. But he paused, leaving himself just enough room to meet her eyes - to seek permission. Gwyn stared back for a second before giving him a firm nod.

It was all he needed. Azriel brushed his lips over hers, gently at first. Only once Gwyn leaned into him, her warm hand upon his chest, did he deepen the kiss. He wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her in. He could get used to this, the feel of her warm body pressed to his.

Kissing her...it felt like breathing, essential to his survival. 

Still, he managed to pull back before he got carried away. 

Azriel didn’t wish to rush things between them. He would take his time with her, savoring every moment, every touch.

Meeting her eyes again, he stroked her cheek thoughtfully.

The truth was that he’d known for quite some time what he wanted, he simply never dared to imagine he could have it. Only now did he realize that if he didn’t try, he’d never know. And so, he took a leap of faith.

“I want you Gwyn,” he confessed, staring into her blue-green eyes that seemed to glow as they looked upon him, “And I hope you want me too.”

She placed her hand over his.

“Are you sure about that?” she asked, “Are you sure I’m truly the one you want?”

He hated that she doubted it for a second. But he would tell her as many times as she needed to hear it. He would work every day to prove it to her.

“Yes,” Azriel re-affirmed, “It’s you I want Gwyn.”

He touched his forehead to hers. 

“I know I haven’t done enough to make that clear, to reassure you. But it’s true. And I promise to do better. I promise I will show you that I mean everything I say. We can take things at your pace. I will follow your lead without question."

Studying her face, he found she still looked a measure unsure.

“If what you heard in that garden weeks ago is the reason for your uncertainty then allow me to tell you that was a misunderstanding.”

He would not lie, would not sugar coat it, Gwyn deserved the truth. All of it. 

"At one time I did want Elain as a mate.”

Gwyn took a step back, dropping her hand and pulling it away. But Azriel managed to catch hold of it. And he held onto it for dear life.

“I saw how happy my brothers were. Rhys and Feyre. Cassian and Nesta. You’ve seen them. They’re perfect for each of her,” he remarked. 

By some kindness, Gwyn allowed him to keep hold of her hand. He stroked that back of it with his thumb. 

“I wanted what they have. And for whatever reason, I believed that Elain could give that to me. I thought that after everything I’d endured through the centuries, I deserved that sort of happiness.”

Gwyn’s expression softened a touch at the barest mention of his past.

“But that was wrong of me. To think that I could replicate their happiness. To put all those expectations and hopes onto Elain simply because she was there. Three brothers and three sisters,” he paused on that thought, recalling how he’d felt about that in the past, “It all seemed so perfect. So long as I ignored the glaringly obvious issue.”

“Lucien,” she breathed.

He nodded. 

“I pretended as though he didn’t exist, convinced myself he wasn’t worthy of Elain. It made it easier to convince myself that the cauldron had made a mistake. But I know now that my feelings for Elain were misconstrued. I didn’t love her. I loved the idea of her, of what believed she could be for me.”

Gwyn seemed to take a deep breath, digesting everything he’d said. 

If he were being honest, Azriel was quite certain he’d never spoken so much in his entire life. 

“And what do you feel for me?” she questioned. 

This was where it got tricky.

“I...I care about you, so much. When you’re not within my sight I find myself looking for you. I miss you whenever I’m away or when you’re gone. I think about you often, more than I probably should," he admitted, "I’m always wondering what you’re doing and if you’re thinking of me too. And I’ve dreamed of kissing you for far too long. And now that I have I hope you’ll let me do it again.”

Her eyes were rimed with unshed tears. He took her face in his hands, gently cupping her cheeks, not caring that he hardly deserved to touch her. 

“Please tell what you’re thinking,” he nearly pleaded.

The sound that escaped her was somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle. 

“I’m thinking this crazy,” she said at last.

He waited for her to continue.

“I’ve been having these confusing feelings for what must be months now, unsure what was wrong with me. Every time I thought I had it figured out something would happen that made me doubt it all. My thoughts. My feelings. You.” 

He swallowed. And once again, he saw the doubt in her eyes. The sight of it broke his heart. 

“I don’t - I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know what it means to be in a relationship. If that’s even what this is. If that’s even what you’re asking me,” Gwyn confessed.

“It is,” he confirmed for her. 

Gwyn’s eyes held his.

"You’re not the only one who’s unsure about how we go about this, Gwyn. As sure as I am about you, I’ve never done this before either. I’ve had lovers before, but I’ve never been in a truly committed relationship. With my past lovers, we took what we wanted from each other, and once either one wanted out we walked away."

But it would be different with Gwyn.

If this didn’t work out he wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk away unscathed, and he loathed the very idea of this thing between them ever ending. 

“But I still want to give this, us, a try. I want to try to be someone worthy of you."

Her brow furrowed, “I’m nothing special, Azriel.”

He let his hand slide down to the back of her neck, gripping it firmly, “That’s where you’re wrong, Gwyn. You’re special, especially to me.”

She reached out her hand and cupped his cheek, her eyes warm, “You’re special to me too,” she spoke in answer.

“Is that a yes?” he asked hopefully.

She cracked a brilliant smile and nodded, “Yes.” 

Azriel found himself smiling back. He wasn’t sure what came over him but he pulled her into a tight embrace, lifting her feet straight off the ground before holding her up above him. Gwyn grinned down at him, the bright, silky strands of her hair tickling his face, and he felt the overwhelming need to kiss her again.

And so, because she'd said yes, he did. 

~ ~ ~

Author Note: I'm a firm believer that the key to a successful relationship is honesty and communication. So that was the focus of this chapter. I've had these two dancing around each other for a while and it felt high time they behave like reasonable adults and talk about their feelings. You will note, this is not quite a love confession. I do not think we're there yet. But we will get there. We shall definitely get there, and it shall be steamy ;)

Anyways, this chapter was a pleasure to write so I hope you all enjoy it as well. And if you do, please do let me know in the comments!

~ ~ ~

@azrielsshadowsdanceforgwyn @bittermuire @ofstarsanddreams @corrdolium @toolazymyguy @inkdrinkershadowsinger @itswrongsong @dealingdifferentdevils @rhysmoira @brucexselina @inejjg @rhysmoira @gwynnight @fairytamy @bluegold08 @amandapearls @highqueentaey @lioness-says @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens​ @princessofmerchants-reads @cantkeepmyeyesoffofyou-x

@my-fan-side @spookylightkidranch @elucienschild @keramzinskies @itswrongsong @mirubyjane

@lovelywordsandwine @ladygwynriel @parisakamali @mirubyai

[thewildwaffle]

I haven’t posted a humans are weird short in over a month. While I do apologize for that, I do have a reason. I’ve been struggling to find my writing muse, and when it is around, I’ve been focusing my efforts on working on the second draft for Abduction. As I was writing this the first time in real-time, I kind of forgot that some of my characters weren't having enough time in the story to actually form the bonds I wanted them to have. This was true with Simmo in particular. Her arc didn't make much sense or feel quite right because her bond was there in my mind, but not on the page so much. Also, I set up Gamnut 4 to be a minor death world with some "fun" obstacles for everyone to deal with while they were there but then forgot. I'm also adjusting character profiles and arcs and filling up on bonding and world-building moments. You know, second-draft stuff! I wanted to share a scene in particular that I've been working on. I wanted to give Wenona a stronger character profile and place in the narrative, give Simmo more bonding with the rest of the team, and spend more time planet-side on Gamnut 4. So, here's a piece of a new chapter that would belong somewhere between chapters 13 and 14:

*Wenona is on watch duty on Gamnut, but for just a moment falls asleep on duty and has a nightmare where she was back in the holding cell on the Montauk ship. Flashbacks of being captive, hurt, escaping, and fighting. She jolts awake and is trying to calm down and find her center in the silence by the campfire.*

“Do humans dream?” Wenona jumped at the raspy voice. She didn’t realize Simmo was awake. She’d actually forgotten the montauk was there. “What?” Simmo blinked at her for a moment. “Dreams are when the brain processes memories or makes up scenarios while you're unconscious.” “Uh yeah, I know what dreams are.” Wenona rolled off the makeshift chair she’d been in to readjust her blanket. Part of it had fallen off and the night was getting colder. She’d better make sure it wasn’t too comfortable though. She didn’t want to fall asleep on shift again. “Well?” Simmo prodded as soon as she sat back down. Wenona eyed her wearily. “Well what?” Simmo sighed and over-enunciated each word. “Do humans dream?” “Yeah, of course we do. Why?” “Did you just have one?” Wenona bit her lip. Had she been talking in her sleep or something? Oh, if only she hadn’t fallen asleep in the first place! “Why do you care?”

Simmo gingerly gestured at her bandages. “I care for my safety. Your sefra friend filled me in on how they found you. There aren’t many beings that wouldn't be traumatized after that. I don't want to be on the receiving end if you have some sort of episode or something in your sleep.” “And you think I'd attack you in my sleep because you're also a montauk or because you already tried to kill us once?” Simmo only hummed in response. Wenona stared into the small flickers of the fire. They weren’t quite big enough to keep the encroaching chill of the night away. “Well anyway,” Wenona used a long log to prod the embers before placing it carefully in the fire, “dreams or not, it won’t be an issue if you just keep well away from me.” Simmo scoffed. “Oh, no worries there. I’m still recuperating from the last time I got too close to you and your little friend.” There was silence for a while. Wenona blew on the coals and coaxed the flickers into a full fire again. She watched it intently as if the little flames could burn away the images she’d just relived again in her dreams.” Simmo surprised Wenona by breaking the silence. “I'm not like them, you know.” “What?” “Those montauk that abducted you." Simmo's eyes never left her twitching hands as she spoke. "I'm, well I certainly have done things in my life I'm not proud… but I don’t want to be lumped in with that lot, I don’t… they’re not even my hive anyway. Montauks… we don’t get along with others outside our… and my hive is… is...” There was a long pause. Wenona shifted her blanket around her shoulders and waited for the montuak to continue. The renewed fire crackled while Wenona waited for her to continue. “Yeah?” she promoted after a moment. “Nothing,”  Simmo snapped quietly. “They’re gone. Never mind.” She shuffled to face away from Wenona again and lay still as if she had gone back to sleep. It would almost be convincing if Wenona couldn’t hear her mandibles clattering or see how tense her antennae looked. Wenona shook her head. Not her circus, not her monkeys, she kept telling herself in her head over and over. She had her own problems to deal with, and she certainly didn’t want to have a heart to heart with a montauk at this planet’s equivalent of four in the morning. Even still, she couldn’t stop Simmo’s words from running through her head. Hives. Jeb had said earlier that montauks were hive-centric They lived in large families and colonies and, with few exceptions, rarely intermingled with others in opposing hives. ‘Like ants,’ Wenona had concluded. ‘Uh, sure,’ Jeb had said. He didn’t know what ants were, but after some explaining, he agreed their inter-colonial societal structures were similar. But Simmo had said her hive was gone? Was that meaning her whole hive colony back wherever she came from, or like that her crew was gone? The more she thought about it, the more she tended to think it was the latter. If her crew had been essentially family... Wenona couldn’t help but draw comparisons to herself. But her family wasn’t the one that was gone. She was. And she still had a chance to reunite with them, however slim that chance was. But Simmo’s chances? Wenona tried not to think about how she would feel if she were in her place. Wenona continued to stoke the fire. She looked up at the sky. Both of the planet’s moons were starting to set and soon the night would get even darker. It was still a while until dawn came. “Hey Simmo?” There wasn’t a response, but Wenona saw a twitch and knew she was still awake and listening. “Do montauks dream?” Again there was no response, but after a moment, Simmo shifted her legs, pulling all of them closer into the rest of her body. Wenona watched her silently for a while. Only days before, montauks were nothing more than her monsters, the beasts of her nightmares. But now? What kind of monsters did her monsters dream of? The rest of her watch was pretty quiet and uneventful. Wenona waited until she was sure Simmo had fallen asleep. Quietly, she stood and removed her blanket and slowly approached Simmo's huddled form. The night was cold and she wasn't sure Simmo was warm-blooded or not. If nothing else, the dumb bug had scooted too far away from the fire to be able to keep warm that way. As gently as she could so as to not wake her up, Wenona draped the blanket over her and returned to her spot by the fire.

[mudwingpropaganda]

(Princess) Kinkajou of the RainWings

I want to believe that Kinkajou is actually a biological descendant of Grandeur, but it doesn’t truly matter because she was supporting Glory for the throne and heritage does not equal merit. Kinkajou is fascinating character who took so many punches yet shes never properly thanked or appreciated for them? I think Kinkajou ought to be more painfully optimistic. As a partial foil to Sunny. She’s not optimistic because she NEEDS to be the one keeping the group optimistic. Kinkajou remains happy because of somewhat emotionally stunting double standards in the RainWing queendom and the act that tears only get you so far. Confidence and energy is what people respond to.

Kinkajou deserves so much more than what canon gave her. Tui might have said “her story is over,” but I seriously disagree. Let’s open her book in the first place.

Design headcanons

I may have leaned a tad far into the idea of her design being physically representational of my ideas for her, but let’s just say these are her comfort colors. The default! They spontaneously flicker with pink and yellow patterns but her default is a banana yellow and bright pink combination, with intruding grey scales on the edge of her torso. (I imagine her underbelly is also similarly melting into pink colors, as her wings are. I just didn’t have the foresight while drawing this.)

I referenced a kinkajou in designing Kinkajou! As a result, her paws seem a little too big for her and she has little ears as opposed to Glory’s more serpentine/bird appearance. Kinkajou’s frill is an example of a feathered RainWing that have plumage similar to a bird of paradise that is also susceptible to the color changing pigmentation.

Her eyes are a striking jungle green, the most natural color on her.

I believe that her time under the NightWing’s grasp definitely should have a more visual representation on her. It may be exaggerated but... art is such. She retains indents where cuffs and chains essentially squeezed on her scales and snout. Her scales tend to dull and turn grey if she is not consciously keeping control over these body parts, yet she has more trouble changing the color of her afflicted indents. 

Her wing is illustrated with the venom wound she suffered from the accident she had in the Queen competition. Her wings struggled to fold back into her sides after the event and regardless if she had these scars removed or not through “magic,” she finds it awkward trying to put her wings back.

I imagine she had more of a full mane of plumage in store, but due to the stress on the island, they struggle to grow healthily behind her ears. 

A personal headcanon of mine is the most noticable circular scales on a RainWing is the clearest indicator of their current emotions. Glory’s was an angry red-orange. Kinkajou’s tends to default, like her indents, to a grey if she doesn’t pay attention. A numbness.

Miscellaneous thoughts

Kinkajou could have been a fascinating case study about the flaws of the RainWings’ lifestyle. Rather than their flaws being a foolish, uneducated, lazy tribe, the RainWings could have been at fault for putting too much trust in their young, making subjects feel obligated to put on a happy face, and their violently isolationist tendencies. Dragonets may be obligated to reach out to adults for help if they need it, not the other way around. That’s why she self isolated to personally focus on her venom practice lest infuriate Bromeliad further. It’s why she maintains a bright yellow and pink coloration rather than subject other dragons to her emotions. It’s why Kinkajou never quite thought she would be able to escape the NightWing island. 

When she was young, Queen Grandeur also realized that Kinkajou was one of her own descendants, making Kinkajou a princess. Grandeur may have been the only one concerned catching wind that Kinkajou went missing, but her perception of RainWings as lazy beings was a personal bias that took away any sympathy she had for her offspring, assuming the dismissals were true that she simply went lost in the woods.

Kinkajou’s upbringing really affected her! She begins dropping her ideals of being an ideal RainWing due to her trauma chipping away at her. Especially the fact that she now realizes the extents of what the Queen, her friend, Glory, goals mean when it comes to a symbiotic shared queendom between the RainWings and those who experimented on her for months, or maybe even longer, until Glory finally took action. 

Kinkajou retains scars from the NightWing island, both physical and mentally. Scars from her bonds and greying scales from a jarring transfer from a flourishing environment to something significantly harmful for her body and color shifting scales. And aside from that, she developed PTSD from the events on the island. Between nightmares, the occasional flashback if someone jostles her... she herself has compartmentalized the experience so she herself doesn’t fully remember the events of the island. But she remembers things at extremely inconvenient times. Especially around NightWings.

Her friendship with Moonwatcher was initially based on the mental note she makes that Moonwatcher isn’t a “real NightWing.” Originally, Queen Glory asked that Kinkajou, as her friend, made the effort to connect with NightWings attending the school, which panicked her. But Moonwatcher didn’t have anything to do with it. In fact, she spent as much time and she did in the rainforest! If not, more. And there’s an envy that Moon never faced any of the ugliness of the NightWings! But a disconnect that maintains their friendship. It isn’t until they begin to bond on their across the world adventure that they begin to trust each other outside of the fact that they were supposed to. It’s difficult! Of course! Especially when Chameleon (another great victim of the RainWing culture), taking the form of Shapeshifter to incapacitate her. Yet it was Moon’s face that greeted her when she woke from her coma. Who had been by her side intent on her recovery. 

A lot of what Kinkajou does is to try and reinstate normality and an environment she finally feels comfortable in, essentially! She feels out of touch with other RainWing dragonets, not enough to be around them, and inevitably confides her self worth mostly to the Jade Winglet, as they don’t know what a RainWing is supposed to be like. She assigns a crush to Winter to make her childhood feel more normal, even if she doesn’t really feel it. 

Kinkajou has internalized a LOT of the shit that was thrown at her. To the point where she doesn’t consciously recognize that she’s been putting on a happy face for so long, aside when she needs to put her scales back in their classic pink and yellow. Even when Moon sees her mind, she struggles to recognize if those thoughts really belong to her or not, assuming the ash and glow of lava is that of a NightWings’, not hers. 

Queen Glory is the main dragon that teaches her how to read. Her and Moonwatcher were both somewhat or basically illiterate when they started their educations. But are both are passionate about literature. Where Kinkajou becomes an avid writer and attempts to to become a journalist for kingdom specific and international news for the continent! She assists Starflight in the library of Jade Mountain occasionally. But she also helps establish libraries and such in the Rain Forest! She helps Glory develop an education system that doesn’t sacrifice culture for secular curriculum.

LGBT+ headcanons

I would say that Kinkajou is a questioning genderqueer individual and still uses she/her pronouns but is growing partial to neutral they/them and doesn’t object to other terms used to address her. She is generally flexible with how she is perceived as long as she is perceived respectfully.

Kinkajou is also panromantic but also on the aro and ace spectrums! She muses the idea of finding a partner eventually, but finds platonic relationships easier to establish and grow than the prospect of a romantic one. Like how she simply plays with the idea of Winter being her crush for the sake of personal normalcy in her childhood and, honestly, Anemone’s little innocent emotional manipulation spell? Yeah. That never happened. Kinkajou’s oblivious to Turtle’s feelings. Attractions fly RIGHT over her head, from others or her own self. She also may have queer platonic partners perhaps? I don’t make the rules. Love is love! uwu

[undyingsunshine]

YESSSSS YOU’RE BACK AND TAKING ASKS

14 and 15 for the most recent post, and I’m gonna come back with more too

Here we go!!!!

14. At what point in writing do you come up with a title?

Honestly, it usually differs from piece to piece! Usually, though, the title comes last! (Though I do have a short list of potential titles for Li Cu fics stored away, most of which are just lyrics from songs xD Whether I end up using them or not, only time will tell!)

15. Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?

All of these tend to give me a bit of trouble xD if I was to rank from hardest to easiest however, I think I'd say titles are the hardest and tags tend to be the easiest. For summaries I usually just slap a portion of the fic in and then add a small almost-summary below it, mostly because I feel like giving a sample of the fic will be more effective than trying to give a succinct description? Kind of shows you what you're getting into before you've even clicked xD

Titles, I use a lot of lyrics from songs, especially ones that I think fit with the character. Though, this does sometimes mean my titles are... long and it can make it a little awkward when trying to talk about the fics themselves. xD

Examples include;

"Come with me, I promise the water is fine..." Which is a lyric from God Bless Eric Taylor by Marietta, a song that I relate to Li Cu somewhat.

This next one is the title of a chapter instead of a whole fic, but I'll count it anyway xD Chapter 2 of I'm Here is titled: "I have this dream that I'm hitting my dad with a baseball bat and he is screaming and crying for help..." which is from the song Father by The Front Bottoms.

I ideally try to make it so that the lyrics also match up with the contents of the chapter/fic. I'm Here's second chapter is all about Li Cu's nightmares, so I thought the title would be pretty fitting xD Honestly, thinking back maybe I could've added more types of dreams.... Ones that fit that title even more.... Small rewrite of that Chapter perhaps? I don't think it would be that different, but still... Would add more angst onto everything xD

The title for "Come with me..." Also sort of relates to the contents of the fic, but moreso in the following line that appears in the summary: "I need something else to comvince me I won't die."

Honestly these lines could have me ranting a whole lot, especially in relation to Li Cu. Just makes me think of all his conflicted feelings, and how he must feel when he drags his friends into the mess he didn't even make. (And these feeling really would increase after Su Wan blames him for the snake bite and getting Shen Qiong inveolved, and during just... the entirety of the time he, Yang Hao, Su Wan and Liang Wan are in the desert together. (ESPECIALLY when Yang Hao is being absolutely mistreated by the 9 families, like sheesh.)

It's just a whole lot of guilt, but also maybe some stubborn determination? Li Cu is very adamant on living just to spit in the face of everyone around him. Existing out of pure spite, but with friends involved, it's more like he's existing to fulfil a purpose? One that he feels like he's bestowed upon himself. Not Wu Xie, or Rishan, or anyone. Just him. He stays alive so he can protect his friends. He'll keep them safe, he'll get them home alive. He has to. And he knows that he will. Or else, what is he even persevering for? "I need something to convince me I won't die." In the fic, this could also be referring to Wu Xie, as he kind of marks safety by the end of the drama. Wu Xie being there means it's okay. It means he doesn't have to fight anymore. And in the fic, it also means that Li Cu can let go. Of Everything. Permanently. (I have so many branching ideas based on that 300 word demon of a fic, you wouldn't even believe)

ANYWAY I'LL STOP RANTING ABT THAT FIC MAYBE I'LL TALK ABOUT THAT FIC MORE IN DEPTH SOME OTHER TIME IF PPL WANT IT.

As for tags, I struggle mostly because I never know what's okay to tag? I'm afraid of tagging a fic with something if the content of that particular tag doesn't show up all that much in the fic? Unless it's something that's a potnential trigger, and then I'll tag it, even if it's small. Just ot be safe. But like. Characters, I don't tag unless they're actually there and present and doing something. If they're mentioned, I tend to not tag them since it's not all that crucial? For people to know they show up for a second? Idk, I like to be as succinct and precise as possible with my tags, because I know how annoying it is for tags to be clogged or for fics to have too many tags xD

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

I have a few, surprisingly! I'll choose two, both from the second chapter of I'm Here!

"Each one makes him wake up, terrified and shaky and wanting to hide or just outright stop existing; to become intangible, untouchable, safe. Of course, he can't actually do that, so instead he pushes the fear down and suffocates it before burying it in the backyard of his mind in the hopes it'll never be dug up again."

Something I try and do while writing is find ways to explain how I. Just. Experience life? (This is also present in Chapter 1 with the line "Further frustration gathered in his chest, making it tighten with stress before it shot up into his throat". Just little things that I've never really seen in words before? That I feel but never know how to accurately describe.) There's always the whole "let the void swallow me/him/her/them whole" thing in media that I love because, honestly, mood. But I guess for this I just wanted to word it differently? In the way I felt was most accurate to myself. Just to be in a state of which nothing can get you, be it life or that one imaginary demon that you sometimes think is lurking around the house at the convenient time of 3 AM, Y'know? When real life becomes TOO real and you just want to blip out for a second, just pause everything and have a moment to be free of everything xD

I also just kind of like the metaphor(?) with his fear. Trust Li Cu to not only associate feelings with violence, but also treat his feelings violently xD I feel like I'm not the best when it comes to imagery and creative expression, especially through words. I point out the obvious, the facts, a lot, both when speaking normally and in writing, and it takes a bit of time for me to remember that I'm writing a story and not jotting a list of events xD So anytime I actually come up with something more kind of creatively written, I feel particularly happy with myself.

"He can't even fully comprehend what's been going on - everything feels bizarre and just out of reach, moreso than usual - but what he does know is that Wu Xie is here and he's angry. The man stands above Li Cu, his cold calculating eyes burning him with wordless accusations that, despite their ambiguity, feel justified. There's guilt, desperation and denial crashing inside him like waves assaulting a rickety raft on a stormy sea. What these feelings are for, he doesn't know. It makes him want to plead for forgiveness all the same."

Let's be honest, Li Cu probably has way too many mixed feelings on Wu Xie. The man who simultaneously built him up and destroyed him. The man who caused him agony, but is also probably one of the best things to come into Li Cu's life??? Like damn, I think I'd be pretty conflicted if I was Li Cu. And things only get worse when, in this fic's timeline, Wu Xie essentially ghosts Li Cu out of guilt for what he did to the kid. This is taken wrong by Li Cu, and he ends up feeling abandoned. By his own kidnapper. I just feel like this snippet is pretty okay at capturing all the blame he puts onto himself, and captures some of the trauma that comes with the events of Sha Hai as well. I just kind of like how this paragraph turned out in the end. xD

6. What character do you have the most fun writing

LI CU!!! Absolutely Li Cu. I don't know exactly what it is but it just. Clicks with me? Or at least the version I write of himd does, it's probably not even close to Li Cu's canon portrayal xD Maybe it's because of the fact that I'm also an angsty, angry 19 year old that I feel as such? It's much easier to put myself in the mind of a teenage boy rather than a 40 year old man xD In terms of non DMBJ writings, I have OCs that I love writing for! Funnily enough, one is an angsty 19 year old boy with a lot of self-worth issues (ringing any bells?) and the other is an angry, confused and conflicted character that was modified to be a kind of living weapon, but had since escaped and repressed all their memories of what happened. Though, the memories eventually start to resurface and they begin to question themself a whole lot, with flashbacks haunting the corners of their mind and driving them deeper and deeper into guilt-filled despair.

In general, angsty characters with a lot of conflicted emotions are super fun to write for! To flicker around from thought to thought and dive into all the hidden feelings that a character can have. It's just super enjoyable for me xD

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Satisfied, Part 48

First

Previous

Next

Don’t know if the next update will come out tomorrow. I’ll try but it may take a little longer

~~~

The day before the Gala was… an experience.

They’d all done what had been essentially a sparring tournament. Duke won, to everyone’s annoyance, and now everyone was saying that he had somehow cheated. Marinette had no clue how he could have done so, but she was glad for the excuse either way.

After that they’d been given some lessons on how to present themselves -- only Marinette, Damian, and Jason were required to go to lecture, but everyone else had been happy to attend to take pictures of their scowling faces.

And now they were doing some ‘relaxation time’ before the big day. No one was really relaxed, obviously. Bruce went down to his brooding cave; Duke was spotted messing with a Rubix cube; Cass and Dick were sparring again to let out some energy; Damian was hugging Marinette’s cat (who had been named Chaton despite what she’d promised him); Tim was clicking away at his computer; Jason was in the shooting range; Marinette was fussing with her outfit. Anxiety radiated off of every family member.

Then, night came… and Marinette and Tim… were forced to take care of themselves.

The horror.

Except it actually was kinda terrifying how committed the family was to getting them to partake in self care. Marinette had been jumped right outside her room and then literally thrown into a bubble bath, fully clothed. No amount of cursing had stopped them from dumping an entire bottle of soap over her head.

Then, when they were convinced she was clean, they threw a towel over her and ushered her along as a group. She tried to struggle away from them, but there were at least five people on her and she was left to just curse as hands pulled her through the halls. They pushed her through the door to her room and slammed it behind her. She ran over to try and muscle it open, only to hear the lock click.

She groaned and jiggled the doorknob. Her hands came up to her hair for her hairpins and she hissed a curse as she realized they’d taken them. “I’ll kill you guys!”

“Love you, too!” Said Jason.

She called him a lot of colorful names, but this only seemed to amuse everyone.

“Go to sleep! We have all your tech and coffee! You can’t do anything else!” Yelled Dick.

Her hand went to her purse, only to find that it was gone, too.

She kicked the door once to show her anger and then groaned in pain. There was a bit of laughter from outside and she peeked through the crack under the  door.

Great. They weren’t leaving. She could see someone setting up a sleeping bag, actually…

An annoyed sigh escaped her lips. She started toweling herself off properly and then pulled on her Red Robin hoodie. Marinette pouted as she climbed under the covers with the plush she’d won at the arcade. Boredom raced through her and she closed her eyes.

She really did have nothing to do other than sleep, they’d been sure of that…

Her window clicked and she peeked an eye open to see Tim’s smiling face poking above the window sill.

He managed to pull himself over and flopped on the floor on the other side, panting and red-faced.

She grinned. “Bravo.”

“You could have helped,” he muttered.

“Could have,” she agreed. “But didn’t.”

He stuck his tongue out at her and, slowly but surely, pushed himself up. It seemed they had gotten him, too, if the damp hair and new pajamas were anything to go by. “So, looks like we were both caught.”

She giggled softly. “Mhmm. Do they do this every time?”

“Nope. Apparently this year is ‘worse than normal’ and they ‘don’t trust that I would sleep on my own this time’.” He sat down next to her and raised his eyebrows at the Red Robin plush she was hugging to her chest. He reached out and gently attempted to pry it from her hands.

She gave him a cheeky grin and held it closer. “Are you really jealous of --.” She stopped herself from saying ‘yourself’. “-- a superhero?”

His face reddened slightly and he tugged at the plush again. This time, she didn’t resist. She felt him lay down beside her and smiled, resting her arm over his stomach lazily. “They take all your tech, too?”

“Everything I had on me,” he said, a cheeky grin on his face. It was here that she noticed that he had a bag on him and she raised her eyebrows as he pulled it open to reveal two phones and a laptop. “They forget I always have spares in my room.”

She took a phone from him. “You’re my hero.”

“Oh? And what about Red Robin?” He teased, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her closer to his side.

She snickered. “You’re my everyday Red Robin,” she joked quietly, resting her head against his chest.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and started typing away.

She glanced up from her phone a while later and took in the way his eyebrows were creased with concern. She leaned over and gave him a tiny kiss, smiling when his face softened a little.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just… the Gala,” he said.

Her hands came up to cup his face. “There’s no changes you can make right now that will help anything.”

“I know, it’s just…” She felt his grip tighten on her waist. “I don’t like it. I want to do something. It feels wrong to just wait for something bad to happen.”

Marinette ran her thumb along his cheekbone. “I know… but there’s only so much security you can hire before the guests get anxious something will happen.”

“I still think we should tell them.”

She shook her head. “The guests wouldn’t come, so the Rogues wouldn’t come, and then we’d be even more in the dark about Joker’s plans. We just have to hope that the bats can fix it.”

“And if they can’t?”

“Well, then we probably wouldn’t have to worry about it, would we?” She mumbled, a somewhat bitter sound to her voice.

He nodded slightly and then leaned into her touch, closing his eyes. “You promised you wouldn’t die, remember?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, resting her forehead against his gently. “I intend to keep that promise as best I can.”

She saw the tiny smile that came to his face at her words and felt her heart flutter a little in her chest.

“You’d better.”

She pressed a short kiss to his lips. “Of course. Who else would scam you into giving them free coffee all the time?”

“It’s not a scam if I knew what you were doing,” he said.

“Mmmmm,” she hummed, not agreeing or disagreeing.

He set his laptop down and smiled as he turned into her fully, wrapping his arms around her waist. She smiled back, looking up at him.

She gently traced the bags under his eyes. “They have a point, you should sleep. Even my makeup skills couldn't cover up all that.”

He made a face and she laughed softly, rolling her eyes.

Then his expression softened and he gave her a quick kiss. “Fine, but you need to try and sleep, too.”

She swallowed thickly. “But…”

“I’ll be here to wake you up if you have a nightmare, but could you please try? For me?”

She looked at his pleading eyes and sighed quietly, resting her head against his chest. “Fine,” she mumbled, her hands sliding down to wrap around his torso. “For you.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and rested his chin atop her head. His arms pulled her ever closer and she smiled, listening to the dull thrum of his heart.

“Good night, sweetie.”

“Good night, bean.”

~~~

I’ve officially used too many commas. My comma key broke ;-;

~

Taglist

@comet-kun @thatonecroc @trippingovermyfeet @swiftie-miraculer13 @nickristus-dreamer @moongoddesskiana @i-am-ironic @indecisive-mess-named-me @thebooki3h @insane-fangirl-of-everything @deepestobservationwombat @theymakeupfairies @fatimaabbasrizvi @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanofalittletoomuch @iamablinkmarvelarmy @nathleigh @lilkymilky @silvergold-swirl @dino-lovingreen-angel @thestressmademedoit @kissa-chan @ladybug-182 @alysrose-starchild @t1dwarrior-of-earth @spyofthenightcourt @rowanrouge @nik-nak-3 @momothefemur @aestheticnpoetic @labschaos @our-preciousss @mochinek0 @eliza-bich @mythogaychic @severelyenchantedwonderland @sashakoi @smolplantmum @bluesimani @tropestropestropes @kitsunebell @keepingupwiththemalfoys @sassakitty @2confused-2doanything @too0bsessedformyowngood @all-mights-asscheeks @demonicbusiness @meg-an-ace @fantasiame @qualitypeacepainter @multplelifes @kokotaru @spicybelladonna @ultimatetornshipper

<3

[mailorderfictionalcharacter]

to love & be loved

@startreksecretsanta and @spinifex-ao3, I present my humble gift for the 2020 Secret Santa Exchange. 

to love & be loved is a Raffi-centric short fic. It can be read on AO3 here, or below the cut. 

There was this thing Raffi's therapist recommended. She said that we tend to view mental ailments as a result of a singular issue, when that was not the case. This isn't unique to the so-called mental conditions; physical ailments are always the result of multiple convergent factors, many of them largely outside of our control. Whether you break a bone running down a corridor depends on the gravity levels, the angle, your physical ability to catch yourself (or not), your species' biological attributes, and so on. But because the bone is easier to fix, we don't place as much value on all these could-have-happeneds.

So her therapist recommended that she looks at her alcoholism, even at the collapse of her family, and traces its lineage. To assemble the history in whatever way she preferred; a narrative, an artwork, a quasi-scientific graph, a mission report. Raffi tried and failed.

She ended up with a start chart of the Milky way, no, too big, zooming into a few classic earth constellations. She grabbed her stylus and pulled it across the screen, trying to connect disparate factors.

Childhood??? --- > my son --- > my husband left me

kicked out of starfleet --- > Starfleet = War?

Starfleet = JL? -- > betrayal?

She couldn't talk about any of it. She brought in a star chart with a handful of annotations explaining her biggest failures and regrets. She could barely explain why she wrote them down without crying, her hand itching for the phantom weight of a glass, even filled with water. So mapping the lineage of her alcoholism & her life became their goal. The implication being that you cannot fight a monster you cannot name.

***

Raffi's therapist was an Andorian woman with deep blue skin, almost an indigo tone. She was tall and friendly in a way that was sometimes clean and professional and sometimes cute and childish. On Earth, she took the name of Julia for some of her clients. Her actual name was J''ul/sth, but more humans were able to pronounce the vowels in Julia, so Julia it is. Julia was a fiercely intellectual woman and would cater her services to different conceptions of what it means to be mentally unwell. She was familiar with centuries of earth, Betazoid, and Andorian theories of mental illness, many of which weren't even addressed within the medical model preferred by Starfleet. Even in her darkest hours, Raffi could barely think a negative thought about Julia; her competence, her expertise was... illuminating.

For someone who had been judged by her own spouse as incapable, for someone who struggled to take care of her hair or to sweep a floor, it was intoxicating to have this brilliant woman focused solely on her for an hour each week. Julia never condescended. She had this assured confidence that Raffi was an interesting person, still worth talking to. It was the sort of thing that could give you hope, if you let yourself believe. It was also the sort of thing Raffi fucked up.

***

Julia was not a believer in abstinence from alcohol as the definition as sobriety. She pointed to it as an outdated Earth concept that had far too long of a shelf life for the evidence behind it. She encouraged Raffi to define her own boundaries about what substance use or lack thereof meant. And Raffi remembered when she could go to a bar for the music and the sensory experience of one or three Saurian brandies without the all consuming urge, twisting under her skin, telling her to escape from her life. And that was their goal. But Raffi didn't tell Julia which bar. She went to a local bar, one that straddled the line between bar and pub and played live music, an eclectic mix of whoever was willing to play for cheap, across genres, cultures, and species. Tonight was a young human teen, not a singer. They were remixing Vulcan instrumental music, very peaceful and precise, with bright and happy sounds. It was almost gauche, the way the emotions would intercut through the melodies. The sort of thing that art and music journals would comment on, asking if it was subversion or a childish rebellion, a blending of cultures or a mocking. The sort of thing that goes good with brandy.

And it was good. It was good for an hour, slowly nursing two drinks. It was good until she saw her, walking in kind of tipsy, skin flushed a warm blue. Surrounded by friends, bar hopping. On a youthful adventure. She felt ashamed, in that moment. That this woman half her age was supposed to be giving her advice, pretending to listen to her problems. That she could never be one of those friends, all so young, with a world to explore.

When Julia caught her eye, she walked over to say hello. And when Julia's friends asked her who she was, Raffi called herself a friend; not a client, not a patient. She doesn't know what it says that Julia didn't correct her; probably that outing a client was a breach of professional ethics. Raffi has more brandy, to wash away the deception, the feeling of herself as lecherous and pathetic and weak.

Raffi wakes up in an unfamiliar bed, entangled in long blue limbs. For a moment, this brings her happiness. The idea that she was wanted, that the woman who knew so much about her made love to her.

It was only for a moment.

She shifted out of the bed, cautiously. She left to the sound of gentle snoring and the feeling of breeze and slick on her public hair.

She didn't go back to therapy, after that.

--

She met Benjamin Sisko, Emissary to the Prophets and legendary war hero, at a Starfleet Intelligence conference. It was near the end of her career; there wasn't much longer she could hold onto the idea of the person she used to be, of whatever Starfleet begged from her. There were always threats on the horizon and she had become numb to it all. But Sisko interested her.

In a way, his life was quite possibly her worst nightmare. The idea of being essentially forced into a religion because, by the way, you are now an important figure in our religion and its impact on interstellar politics... what a nightmare. That wasn't mentioning being pulled out of linear time by powerful aliens worshipped as gods. At least -

At least when Q had showed up that one time, JL and him had a bit of a rapport.

But he didn't seem unhappy. She was used to seeing the haunted faces at conferences, as people who were raised in peace and sent out to explore ended up soldiers for war. Starfleet Intelligence was different, it attracted a more cynical bunch. The sort who wouldn't show it. But Sisko seemed... happy. He didn't look like a man who was kidnapped in order to appease powerful beings, or even someone straining under a PR lie. He looked like he had transcended beyond it all. And yeah, she wanted a piece of that.

But she couldn't ask for it. It was a crazy request. It was her imprinting her desires and pains onto a stranger's life.

It surprised her, after the conference, when he approached her and asked if she knew any Bajorans.

“Just the one.” Something in her felt compelled to add, “he wasn't religious.”

“So I'll be the first one to surprise you like this.”

And he grabbed her by the ear, what the shit, and said, in a low voice. “Your pagh is strong.”

***

After Agnes Jurati confessed to murdering a man, on their ship, the scientist had cried, and asked her, “Why are you still being so nice to me?” There were a lot of answers Raffi did not give. She did not say that she had a son and a husband who wouldn't let her love them and her desire to care for someone was apparently stronger than the realization that they were a semi-brainwashed murderer. She did not say that at this point, she didn't feel like she could judge anyone, morally speaking. Or that maybe this was pragmatism, keeping your friends close and your potential enemies closer. Or that at the very least, there wasn't much she could do to fuck up Agnes' life anymore, which is a marked improvement from the rest of her relationships.

Instead, she let herself feel soft. “Because, sometimes we make mistakes. And even if we can't fix them, I think we should still let ourselves love and be loved.”

[ardentaislinn]

Yuletide Letter 2020

Hi! I am also ardentaislinn on AO3. Thank you so much for volunteering to write one of my chosen fandoms! I really can’t wait to see what you come up with. Most importantly, I hope you have fun writing whichever of my fandoms it is. Any suggestions I make here are optional.

Here you’ll find:

My general likes

My DNWs

And prompts for the following fandoms:

Peninsula: Train to Busan 2 (2020) - Jung Seok, Min Jung, Joon Yi, Yoo Jin

Stranger | 비밀의 숲 - Hwang Si Mok, Han Yeo Jin

Kingdom | 킹덤 - Prince Lee Chang, Seo Bi

Illang: The Wolf Brigade | 인랑 (2018) - Im Joong Kyung, Lee Yoon Hee | Kim Seo Hee

A quick note on the Korean names - I’m fine with however you choose to transliterate them. Hyphen/no hyphen, Shi Mok/Si Mok, etc. Just do what you are comfortable with and I’ll adjust no problem. No need to add the honourifics, though

My likes:

I love getting together fics most of all. I love almost every kind of trope (fake dating, slow burn, rivals-to-lovers, “unrequited” pining (that is really requited), found families, etc.) Also, casefic, epistolary fic, consent, forbidden pleasures, beta heroes, bed sharing, masquerades, military kink, physical imperfections, ladies being badass and female relationships (whether romantic or friendship), relationships that build tension before exploding, equal relationships, trapped together, competence, communication, U/RST, positive endings.

You may notice from the below that my ships mostly involve sweet and occasionally broken men being head over heels for awesome ladies, (and usually not feeling worthy). So that dynamic is strongly encouraged.

I also like smut, but it certainly isn’t a necessity. For smut, I’m (sadly) fairly vanilla. But I like light bondage, cunnilingus, shower sex, and accidental/consensual voyeurism, (Particularly guys taking matters into their own hands when they think they can’t be with their lady, and the woman stumbling across him mid-act. Possibly my favourite kink ever? Writer’s choice whether the woman joins in or gets embarrassed)

Happy endings (or at least hopeful endings) are preferred. Like, super, super preferred. I don’t mind angst at all, but it kinda has to be on the way out of the darkness by the end.

Dislikes/DNWs:

Miserable endings. Major character death. Baby/Pregnancy fic. Humiliation. Drug use/drug mentions/addiction. Self harm/abuse. Non-con/rape. Heavy kink. A/B/O. M-Preg. Incest. Bestiality, animal harm etc. Underage sexual content. 1st person POV (unless for epistolary). Not big on high school AUs or Rock band AUs. Unbalanced power dynamics in ships without acknowledging/exploring that. (This effects one particular ship below, which I’ll discuss in more detail in the fandom section).

I think that’s it?

And so, to the fandoms, in no particular order:

Peninsula: Train to Busan 2

Jung Seok, Min Jung, Joon Yi, Yoo Jin

While maybe objectively not as good a film as the first one, I still enjoyed the hell out of it. Given that it was essentially a cross between Escape From New York and Mad Max, what isn’t to love? I loved the expansion of the world and the clever uses of zombies in the chase scenes. And I loved that the message was that being logical and self-sacrificing isn’t always the right choice - sometimes you should be driven by heart and empathy. And I really liked the idea that anything can mean happiness when you love and are loved in return - particularly in regards to Joon Yi, but also Jung Seok (and his found family?).

What would interest me the most in this fandom is post-movie fics. But if you wanna do a canon divergent/au thing, I’d be cool with that, too. Some prompts:

Joon Yi struggles a lot more than her sister to readjust to a “normal” life

In order to stay together after being rescued, Jung Seok and Min Jung have to pretend to be married

After four long years of loneliness, Min Jung just wants to be touched

Jung Seok isn’t surprised to find himself in love with Min Jung - and wanting to be a father to her girls - but is he good enough for them? He’s left them behind once - can he forgive himself? Can Min Jung?

The zombie plague escapes from Korea - and Jung Seok, Min Jung, and her girls are the closest thing to experts on how to fight back and contain it that the authorities have. Will their nightmare never be over? Or is this a chance to end it once and for all?

With Min Jung in hospital while her leg heals, Jung Seok suddenly finds himself a surrogate father to two very unruly girls.

Stranger | 비밀의 숲

Han Yeo Jin, Hwang Si Mok

This show is just so good, and Si Mok and Yeo Jin - and their relationship - is a big part of that. He’s logical and doesn’t feel things the way most other people do, but that doesn’t mean he’s given a free pass to be an asshole. He’s a good man who always does what’s right. And Yeo Jin is just as smart as he is, and equally committed to doing what’s right, but in a different way. They make a perfect team.

I love how much they absolutely, completely, trust and respect each other. Si Mok cares about her as much as he is capable - probably more so than he cares about anyone else. There isn’t any drama or jealousy or anything like that in their relationship. They are both practical adults. But it doesn’t mean they don’t have a deep bond. I do ship these two - and would love getting together fic if you can!

Prompts:

Yeo Jin will probably have a tough time of it from now on. How will Si Mok support her through it?

How will Yeo Jin and Si Mok keep in touch now that he’s moved away again? Late night phone calls that slowly become more intimate? Texts or emails (epistolary style)?

In the last episode, there was a hint that Si Mok had a prophetic dream. What if he really did develop a power? And Yeo Jin was the only one he trusted with the truth?

What if Yeo Jin and Si Mok had to travel somewhere for an investigation - and there’s only one bed…

Si Mok isn’t incapable of noticing when a woman is attracted to him. But what if that woman is Yeo Jin? Do they try to make a friends-with-benefits arrangement work? Or do they like each other two much for that?

Everyone already knows Yeo Jin and Si Mok are close - but why do their friends suddenly think they are dating? What’s changed? And how do they stop the rumours - without disappointing all the friends who were hoping they’d finally become a couple?

Yeo Jin had drunk one too many shots of soju and thought she might never see Si Mok again - so she’d jumped his bones and snuck out before he woke, full of regrets. But what happens now they have to work a case together again?

Feel free to bring in the other characters, too, as long as Yeo Jin and Si Mok remain the focus! I love the various dynamics they have with the people around them.

Kingdom | 킹덤

Prince Lee Chang, Seo Bi

Like with Si Mok and Yeo Jin above, so much of what I like about these two is that they are great characters separately - but work so well together as a team. They trust each other. He has great faith in her abilities and respects her so much. And she is loyal to him and respects him in return because she knows he’s a good man and a good leader.

I also love how the show uses both politics and horror elements, both to best advantage. It’s so well-written and compelling.

Now, I can see how this ship skirts close to my “no unbalanced power differentials in relationships” DNW, since he’s a prince, and she’s very much not royalty, so I thought I would clarify my position on this. I would most like fic set after he gives up his place in the royal family, since I think that mitigates basically all the issues. Even though I don’t think he would have intentionally abused his power over her, and Seo Bi was never particularly deferential to him, it still would have effected the relationship. Now that they are on more equal footing, there may be some lingering, residual issues surrounding this, but I feel like it’s at the level of bringing some interesting angst into the equation without feeling icky, if that makes sense.

Prompts:

Lee Chang and Seo Bi are somehow transported into modern day Korea. How will they adapt?

Both Lee Chang and Seo Bi have seen horrifying things - and they have the nightmares to prove it. How do they help each other through?

I feel like there are a million stories you could tell within the time jump at the end of the second season. Seo Bi and Lee Chang are travelling together, but no doubt keeping their mission to find the resurrection plant a secret. Are they pretending to be married? Is there anything Lee Chang has to adjust to now that he’s no longer, technically, the crown prince? How are they making money? Is Seo Bi hiring out her medicinal knowledge, while Lee Chang sells his sword? How far will they go to find the answers they seek?

The properties of the resurrection plant are still largely unknown. What horrors will they have to face next, now that another outbreak is looming? 

Lee Chang decides that Seo Bi needs formal fight training - and takes it upon himself to teach her.

What moments of levity can they find together amongst the horrors?

Lee Chang knows he shouldn’t think of Seo Bi in that way - they are colleagues, and despite everything he is still from a royal family. He needs her too much to risk everything because of his desire. But oh, how he wants her…

Illang: The Wolf Brigade | 인랑 (2018)

Im Joong Kyung, Lee Yoon Hee | Kim Seo Hee

So much about this movie is absolutely my jam. The action scenes, the exploration of what desperation can drive people to, the unclear loyalties that are slowly revealed. That whole sequence when they first meet and spend time together is like a distillation of so many of my favourite things. He sees her and is just instantly gone on her. And she for him. And from then on it’s just a quiet, intense longing between them. They are so aware of each other, every sense drawn towards the other. But he’s so broken, and he sees himself as more animal than man. And it’s revealed that she has equally deep wounds, too.

An argument can be made that at least some of it was an act, of course. They were both trying to deceive each other after all. But I think it’s pretty obvious that there were real feelings there, particularly because she tries to warn him that he’s walking into a trap, and he comes back to save her. Maybe even they don’t know how deep their feelings go, or the other’s feelings, but the audience knows.

And yet...I’ve seen it twice now, and the ending is still no clearer to me. Like, is he dead? It doesn’t seem like it, since both she and her brother saw him at the train station. But maybe he’s like a guardian angel now? And if he’s not dead, where did the shot come from? A hidden gun? The sniper? And most importantly of all, if he’s not dead...why aren’t they together??? Like, aren’t all the potential impediments to their relationship gone by that point?

So, I guess most of all I would like fic that makes more sense than that ending - preferably by giving them the happy ending they deserve.

Prompts:

Joong Kyung watches over Yoon Hee from the shadows - but she always knows he’s there. How can she convince him to come into the light, and back into her life?

Yoon Hee’s brother gets himself into trouble, and the only person she can turn to for help is a man she hasn’t seen in too long - Joong Kyung.

Joong Kyung now walks the line between the living and the dead, but he can’t stay away from Yoon Hee. (Paranormal/magic AU?)

Has there been too many lies between them to make a relationship work? Neither think they are worthy of the other, but when they are pulled back together (to give evidence for an official inquiry?) they can’t quite keep their distance.

Joong Kyung is on the run, and he doesn’t know who to trust - except the one woman he’s never forgotten.

Misunderstandings and lies abound between them - but what happens when they are trapped together and must wait for rescue?

If you don’t want to do a post-canon fic, how about canon divergence? What would have happened if the phone hadn’t rung in that warehouse at that moment? Might Yoon Hee have told herself that she could use her body to prove her loyalty to him? And might Joong Kyung have told himself that it couldn’t hurt to succumb - that it didn’t mean anything?

I think that’s everything. Thank you so much!

[sweetsmellosuccess]

TIFF 2020: Days 1 & 2

Films: 5 Best Film of the Day(s): One Night in Miami

One Night in Miami…: I guess you could form an argument that basing a film on a pre-existing play would make the feature easier to put together, but that wouldn’t be taking into account the tremendous differences between the mediums, their relative strengths and weaknesses. For her feature debut, the Oscar-winning actress Regina King has cinematically adapted the stage play  by Kemp Powers about a fictionalized fateful night amongst four famous Black men in 1964. Those men, Malcolm X (Kingsley Ben-Adir), Jim Brown (Aldis Hodge), Sam Cooke (Leslie Odom Jr.), and Cassius Clay (Eli Goree), are all in town ostensibly to celebrate Clay’s beatdown of Sonny Liston to first become the heavyweight champion of the world at the tender age of 22. But the film puts them all together in Malcolm X’s modest hotel room, watched over by Nation of Islam security men, to spend a night, essentially, debating the merits of what they bring to the struggle for Black equality and economic emancipation, and arguing back and forth about their distinct positions. Here is precisely where many play adaptations falter, without the dramatic friction of a live performance to power the emotional core, such conventions generally fall flat on the screen, but King’s virtuoso acting instincts serve her able cast well, and her work with DP Tami Reiker allows the film to flow, seemingly organically between its few location movements. Working from a skilled script by Powers, the celebrated figures feel three dimensional, which gives even their more didactic diatribes (Malcolm), and pithy rebuttals (Cooke) enough weight to avoid sounding contrived. The cast work wonders on the material, granting a needed organic vibe to their nonfiction characters, echoing the essences without tipping into caricature. It’s a strong debut for King, and the film’s complex ruminations on the responsibility of successful Black people towards their community as a means of bringing attention to the country’s oppression couldn’t be more on point. At one point Clay tells Cooke the four of them will always remain friends, because they are among the few who can possibly understand what it’s like to be “young, Black, famous, righteous, and unapologetic.”

Shiva Baby: Danielle (Rachel Sennott) is in the midst of having a day. Turns out Max (Danny Deferrari), the sugar daddy with whom she has frequently been visiting as part of her regular prostitution gig, is somehow a friend or cousin of the deceased at the same Shiva she has come to attend with her well-meaning, but completely overwhelming parents (Polly Draper and Fred Melamed). If that weren’t enough in Emma Seligman’s spry comedy, Danielle is also horrified to find Maya (Molly Gordon), a successful young woman she’s known for years, and a recent ex, also there. Crammed into the Shiva house, full of cousins and aunts and uncles all kvetching about everyone else, and being physically grabbed and moved about by her mother, Danielle faces this house of horrors, with everyone commenting concernedly on her weight-loss (“You look like Gwyneth Paltrow  —  on food stamps!” her mother hisses at her), and her lack of job prospects when she graduates, and her parents telling scathingly embarrassing stories about her in front of Max and his shiksa wife (Dianna Argon), whose 18-month-old baby, her mom says is “freakishly pale  —  and no nose,” with no respite in sight. As a result of this sort of hyper-scrutiny, Danielle goes the only route that makes any sense: Lying to everybody about nearly everything, from her current major (“gender business”), to the many job interviews she has supposedly lined up. She’s just trying to get through the ordeal, one that Seligman, along with a continually spiraling score from Ariel Marx, ratchets up, until, near the end, poor Danielle is in a near fugue state, sweat glistening on her face, and the attendees, shot in unflattering slo-mo, and distorted lenses, take on the sheen of a waking nightmare. At a brisk 77 minutes, the film still doesn’t have quite enough to sustain its running time  —  at a certain point it begins doubling back on itself  —  but it’s still a lot of horrific fun, as Seligman expertly captures the absolute loss of agency one can feel, swallowed up in a claustrophobic family gathering, where escape feels futile.

Limbo: If Scotland has a cinematic identity, as such, it seems like the kind of place, desolate and unforgiving, where individuals come to exit regular society and come to a land filled with eccentric loners (stoic and unique in their oddities), in order to get better in touch with their souls. Ben Sharrock’s serio-comedy captures both the pitiless beauty of the land, and the lonely plight of a Syrian immigrant, Omar (Amir El-Masry), waiting with a group of other men from across the Middle East and Africa, on an island off the mainland, for word from the Immigration Office that his bid for political asylum has been accepted. Omar, sweet-faced and approachable, was a musician by trade in his native Syria, and walks around everywhere carrying his precious oud, bequeathed to him by his grandfather, also a musician, even though his right hand is locked in a cast from an unspecified injury. Even without the cast, however, you get the sense that his heart really isn’t into playing, despite the entreaties from Farhad (Vikash Bhai), his Afghani roomie and self-appointed “agent and manager,” who wants him to enter a local music contest. Omar is carrying a significant amount of weight beyond missing his mother’s fragrant home-cooking. Talking to her on the lone payphone on the island, where other immigrants-in-waiting stand in line for a chance to hear from home, she implores him to speak to his older brother, who chose to stay behind in Syria and fight in the Civil War that has plagued the region for years. Omar feels guilty for having left, and suffers from having disappointed his father in the process. It doesn’t help him that the culture he finds himself in seems so foreign to him, despite his speaking flawless English. Sharrock’s brand of deadpan perfectly suits the setting, but as funny as the film can be (when asked in a culture/language class to create a sentence using the “I used to” construction, one immigrant offers “I used to be happy before I came here”), it doesn’t paint a rosy affirmation for Omar and his ilk, stuck as they are, as the title suggests, between countries and lives. Omar’s pain is real, and for every positive step forward he takes, it’s one further away from his family and his beloved home country.

Enemies of the State: Sonia Kennebeck’s challenging and curious documentary seems at first to present a case for its protagonist, Matt DeHart, a young teen hacker interested in social justice, who through his work with Wikileaks runs afoul of the U.S. government, and his beleaguered parents, Paul and Leann, who vigorously defend their only child against the evil forces conspiring against him. Through a series of personal interviews with Paul and Leann, both retired Air Force intelligence officers, who believe their country has turned against them for what Matt had downloaded from his computer into secret thumbdrives shortly before the FBI arrived at their door and confiscated all his equipment, and various lawyers they employed, first to protect Matt from what they claim as utterly bogus child-porn charges, then, after they slip away to Canada in the middle of the night, the lawyers trying to earn them asylum. While in Canada, under close supervision and confined to his parents’ apartment, Matt uses his charms, his hackavist bonafides, and his skill at PR, to generate enough interest in his case to become a digital cause celebe, along the lines of Edward Snowden and Chelsea Manning. Protests are fronted, defense funds gathered, and pressure put on the government to come clean about why they seem so hard-driving against the young man. During a peculiar reenactment set in a Canadian immigration hearing  —  Kennebeck employs actors who apparently lip sync their lines in perfect time with the actual recorded audio  —  DeHart describes a harrowing ordeal earlier in the affair, after having moved to Canada to attend college, being abducted by the FBI shortly after crossing the border to renew his Visa, and tortured for days for information related to the material on the thumb-drives. Some documentation seems to corroborate his claims (even Paul and Leann, as fierce supporters as can be, were shocked to see just how ready the FBI were to snatch him), but as the film continues, and we hear more and more from the investigators and prosecuting attorneys about the original child-pornography crimes, it becomes clear that our sympathies are being played with by Kennebeck. By the end, the film itself becomes an indictment of our rapid-assumption culture, in which decisions of guilt and innocence are determined in seconds online and forever after based on the presentation of information before us.

The Way I See It: For non Trumpites, the switchover from eight years of the dignified, intelligent, and measured leadership of Barack Obama, to the perma-tanned tackiness of power-mad, narcissistic bloviating of Donald Trump, was like a double-feature that went from Citizen Kane to Kevin James’ Loudest Farts. One man better than most to measure Obama’s time in office against the subsequent regime is photojournalist Pete Souza, who served as the official White House photographer for both of Obama’s terms, and has gone on to become an outspoken critic of Trump by way of his devastating IG account, in which he juxtaposes stately Obama photos with Trumps scandal-du-jour. Lest you think he’s just another divisively partisan liberal, you have to take into account his previous turn in the White House, as one of the official photographers for Ronald Reagan’s presidency. In fact, Souza’s fly-on-the-wall quality was considered one of his strengths in the oval office. Documentarian Dawn Porter travels with Souza as he makes the media rounds promoting his newest book, Shade, a collection of those IG photos that have earned him millions of social media followers (a sort of companion piece to his previous book Obama: An Intimate Portrait). Hauling from far-off India (where he gets a standing ovation before he even takes the stage), to domestic conferences and speaking engagements, Souza emerges as a man becoming more used to being out from behind his ever-present Canon lens. Through that lens, as he displays to his rapturous audiences, he has taken many hundreds of indelible photos, showing Obama’s various interactions with foreign dignitaries, his council of cabinet members, and his more raucous time with his two daughters (one shot of Obama with his girls making snow angels on the rear lawn during a heavy snow storm remains his computer screensaver, Souza says with pride). As Porter moves from talking heads to public oratories, Souza’s remarkable photos  —  brilliantly composed, and inspiringly intimate, having been given nearly unlimited access to the president  —  play throughout, showing us a collection of images that capture the inspiring hope the president inspired and the agonizing rigors of the job he was elected to perform. The film spends little time on his Reagan years, except to note how media and image-savvy the former Hollywood actor and his wife were (Souza professes no political ill-will towards the Reagans, other than noting that while he didn’t always agree with him, he was a genuinely caring man, who at least understood the parameters of leadership). At first, the film trolls Trump by a sort of subtweet level of backhandedness: Without directly naming names, Souza makes it entirely clear who he finds failing in comparison to Obama’s empathetic, engaging deportment, but by the time the film comes around to his notorious IG account, there can be no doubt the subject of his ire. Souza maintains it has less to do with his partisan feelings (his political affiliation is never revealed), and more the way he finds the current president’s undignified manner and total disrespect for the office and the leadership it demands unacceptable. Trumpers will of course take great exception to the portrait the film portrays of the sitting president, but even the most hardcore GOP folks won’t be able to help noting the blatant differences between the loving, genuinely close Obamas; and the preening, viciously competitive Trumps, each trying to outdo the others in acting as their father’s primary sycophant.

In a year of bizarre happenings, and altered realities, TIFF has shifted its gears to a significantly paired down virtual festival. Thus, U.S. film critics are regulated to watching the international offerings from our own living room couches.