#every year is a chicken fight between me and the Christmas spirit

[wildbluesorbit]

So sorry but I’m the hater that believes Christmas season starts Dec. 1st !!!🫣🫣

[turnupswritessometimes]

Day 2: Snowball Fight

“Christmas is so big in America,” Eiji said.

They were walking, through Central Park, like couples did. Bundled up against the cold with scarfs and gloves, padded elbows and sides pressing against each other at every step. It was full of tourists, taking selfies and videos to show off that they were in New York for Christmas.

They’d taken the train there, for the day. Because snow in New York was magic for a photographer like Eiji. Because even though they’d moved away from the city, Ash itched to return to it. It was still home.

“It is,” he replied. Didn’t meet Eiji’s big, dark eyes, but saw them in the corner of his eye. Curious; he was getting more curious since the party to celebrate the end of term.

“Did you – did you ever celebrate it, before?” Eiji stepped carefully. There was frost on the ground, making the paving slick, despite the sandbags that had been scattered. The statues were heaped with snow, and still sat a few inches thick on the grass.

Ash did glance at him then. He raised an eyebrow. “Well, I sat on Santa’s lap.”

“Not funny, sweetie.” Eiji elbowed him, though threw his whole weight behind it so that Ash stumbled. He pushed back to keep his balance, and the clouds of their breath mingled in the air.

“Sorry.” And he wanted to be, but it was true. That was how he’d learnt there was no Santa Claus. He’d hated seeing Santas for a long time; until he was on the streets and could separate between that idea of Santa, and everyone elses.

But Eiji half-smiled. The wind ruffled his hair. "I suppose it was a silly question."

It was. Ash didn't say that. He thought about explaining that there had been Christmas celebrations, at Golzine’s. Every evening of Christmas week and New Year's had held a party; soft jazz music and mulled wine and mingling, mingling, mingling. Ash had often been the centre of attention. Had been dressed up and sat down like an ornament whilst being driven mad by trumpet versions of ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.’ Had been asked over and over, year after year, what he wanted for Christmas – had he been a good boy – visit by old men with lecherous leers.

He'd been given the correct answers, of course: that he hoped so, and wanted a bike. Instead, he had said a gun, good enough (saying he'd been bad only led to dirty jokes and more leers). It had gotten him punished. Not sent to his room in disgrace, but volunteered to play through carols on the piano. To spend longer being sociable. To spend the night being sociable.

Despite that, he still got a present on Christmas day. The flashiest toy, the most expensive bike – whatever any other child would be over the moon with. Ash would stare, from the present up to the attempt at a Father Christmas smile.

Would be asked, "Well? Aren't you going to say thank you?"

How could he explain any of it to Eiji? If anyone understood, he would. But there would be that very sad look. He couldn't break Eiji's heart on Christmas.

"I meant – after that." Eiji paused. “With the gang.”

“Christmas in New York is always pretty.” Ash knew he was avoiding the question, though it was true. The city’s lights tripled, and the roughness of New York softened with Christmas spirit. They’d had their small traditions; ice skating, and snowball fights. “We’d stay up all Christmas eve watching movies.” On a stolen set. “We didn’t have a Christmas dinner, or anything. No wrapped gifts, but we did get each other stuff.” Also stolen. “Shorter would always pinch me a few paperbacks.”

Because he knew Ash loved to read. Knew Ash loved Salinger and Hinton and would slip a battered copy under his pillow. He’d read it all Christmas night.

“He was a good friend.” Eiji tightened their arms together. Thinking about him too much still hurt.

"What about you?" Ash asked. "What are your Christmas traditions?"

"It's not as huge a celebration, in Japan." Eiji nudged them together, again. "We eat fried chicken on Christmas Day."

"Fried chicken?"

"From Kentuky Fried Chicken."

Ash laughed. Leant forward to kiss Eiji, just because he could. "I like that."

"Normally only couples give gifts on Christmas. New Year's is the big celebration."

They were going there, for New Years. Taking a Boxing Day flight halfway around the world so Eiji could see his own family. Ash was The Partner; stumbling along with his broken Japanese.

"And what do you want for Christmas?" Ash leant closer.

Eiji stopped. He reached up, and gently unfurled a strand of hair from Ash's beanie. He smiled, softly, brown eyes catching the light. Flecks of chestnut and hazelnut that made him think of warm fireplaces.

"You." Eiji pressed forward, twisting the strand of gold round his finger. "Alive. With me."

"I can't wrap that." Though he had been a gift, one year; wrapped with ribbon and left to lie on a bed for an hour. He didn't say that. Only took Eiji's hands and made them take another step down the path.

"Fine. A new camera." Eiji squeezed their mittened hands together. "What about you?"

"A Christmas with you." And at Eiji's raised eyebrows, he shrugged. "Fine. A nice watch, if you must."

"I must." This time, Eiji grinned.

And it was nearly impossible not to smile in return. He leant forward, pressing their hips together. With the leftover snow on the ground around them; the evergreen trees behind Eiji’s dark hair; his dark eyes shining; it felt like he was trapped in his own Christmas movie. The end of one, just before the tooth-achingly sweet final kiss. He leant forward, ready to claim it—

Something very wet and very cold fell down the neck of his coat. He turned on instinct – felt his muscles rearing back into action –caught hold of his attacker’s hood. They were trying to run, but he yanked them back.

It was Alex. He’d shoved a snowball down Ash’s coat. He let himself by pulled back, and didn’t protest Ash’s arm hooking around his neck. He only laughed, weakly pushing against it.

“The boys were saying you’d lost your edge,” Alex said. “I didn’t believe them, but—”

“You’re an arsehole,” Ash snapped. Though he wasn’t really cross. Uncomfortable, but more angry at himself for not being on guard. Maybe it was true. Maybe he was becoming normal. Suddenly, he didn’t want to be.

“Not my fault you’re so in love you didn’t notice me.” Alex smirked. He batted his eyes mockingly, and Ash pummelled his head with his knuckles. Alex cried out for help, struggling against him.

There were other boys at the fringes of the trees, nudging each other. No doubt exchanging money over the fact Alex had actually done it. None seemed in a particular hurry to avenge him; instead, seemed content to watch him get beaten up by Ash Lynx. (Even if he wasn’t Ash Lynx, any longer.)

Alex managed to wrestle himself free of Ash’s grip, grabbing him by the lapels. Then a slurry of white hit his cheek. It dripped slowly off his jaw.

Eiji had thrown it. His eyes were still sparkling, as he straightened up. Smiled.

“Ash deliberately didn’t notice you,” Eiji said. “It was all part of our sneak-attack.”

God, he loved this boy. This boy who’d cover for him, so that he wouldn’t lose face. He flicked his eyelid in a wink, and Eiji practically glowed back at him. He looked beautiful, with bright, pink cheeks.

“Damn, Okumura!” Alex wiped slush from his jaw with his coat sleeve. “Didn’t know you were so ruthless.”

Eiji shrugged. His dark hair ruffled in the wind, and he looked the picture of an angel.

“I guess there’s only one thing for it.” Ash let go of Alex – he stumbled backwards. “You’ve declared all-out war.”

Alex grinned back at him; that old grin, from the good, old days. It began the war. The boys came forward, scooping up ball of snow as they did. They released them in a flurry, before Ash or Eiji could retaliate. He caught the bulk of them on his coat sleeves, ducking behind the lines of bushes. Eiji followed him, landing heavily, and scattering gravel.

There were tourists, watching them. Raising their eyebrows and muttering. Probably thinking they were all much too old for this nonsense; were louts. Good, Ash thought.

“We’re outnumbered,” Eiji said.

Ash brushed hair from his face, raising an eyebrow. “When has that stopped me?”

As though this was a shoot-out, and not a game. It at least held an echo of who he used to be.

Eiji handed him a loaded snowball, eyes shining. They could hear the boys shouting on the other side of the bushes. Ash weighted the snowball, then looked over the top of the leaves and launched it. It hit Bones square in the chest and sent him down.

Eiji handed Ash another. And another. They were launched too. They became a team. Eiji threw his own, too; held his own. But there were too many of them. If it was bullets instead of snowballs, Ash would have been fine. But snowballs didn’t keep boys – his boys – down for good. Before too long, they were jumping over the bushes, and Ash was trapped in a tangle of limbs. He protested, as though he hated it, but it felt good to have them back. To be part of something. He did miss living like a street dog, in a pack.

They eventually gave in. They were completely wet through, and Ash couldn’t feel his cheeks where they had been hit with snow. His hair stuck to his face. Eiji was under his arm, giggling feebly, whilst Alex lay against his side.

“I’m glad you’re back, Lynx,” he said.

“Alex has a favour to ask you,” that was from Bones, with a glint in his eye.

“I’m not getting involved in any of that, anymore,” Ash said. He’d felt Eiji tense against him. The worst part was, his interest had been piqued. He’d felt the ghost of his gun in his waistband, and his heart had jumped at the thought of seeing action again. Real action. The threat of death had always made him feel really alive.

But he couldn’t. Because he’d said. Had promised Max he was leaving that behind. Had done it for Eiji.

“It’s not like that.” Alex scratched the back of his head. His neck was flushed red. “Well, not really.”

Ash stared. Eiji did too.

“Ice-skating,” Bones burst out.

“Alex wants to go ice skating at the Rockerfeller,” Kong explained.

Alex ducked his chin. Ash could understand. It was a tourist thing. They generally frowned upon, or scoffed at tourist things. Tourists were like pigeons; they were everywhere and in the way. (Eiji had been the only exception; was always the only exception.) But the boys had always made a point to sneak in to the Rockerfeller, every year. It was their own tradition.

“I thought you’d know a way to get us in,” Alex muttered. “And that you’d – come with us, this time.”

Ash had always made an excuse in the past. He’d had work to do. Or he was busy that day. Sometimes he’d just slink away, like an alley cat, and only return home that evening, listening to them all recount every part of the day.

“Sure.” But Ash wasn’t the one who said it. Eiji had. He was still smiling, no doubt thinking it was only circumstance that meant Ash couldn’t go in the past. “But I’m sure we can pay for you.”

Alex waved his hand. “Nah, that takes the fun out of it.”

He’d already been volunteered; had already agreed, and he couldn’t see a way out of it now. Not without admitting the truth to Eiji, and usually he would, but not about this. This felt worse than him knowing the truth about his past.

So he also nodded, and said, “I’m sure I’ll find a way.”

And he hoped he could find a way out of it.

The One About Christmas - AshEiji - 12 Days of Ficmas

A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52217968/chapters/132084811 (It helps to heave read my Wedding fic, but it's not mandatory to understand what's going on.)

Day One: Christmas Party:

There was a college party. There were actually lots of college parties, but the psychology department of Stony Brook University was having its own Christmas Party. A proper, formal one, organised by the staff, as a congratulations for the students: despite them all having copious amounts of work over the holidays.

A normal Christmas party. Only Ash wasn't exactly normal. He couldn't help but feel, as he tied his tie, that he was tying a noose. His hands stilled. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. It had all come so naturally. He'd combed his hair back in the same way he'd used so. With the shirt and tie and jacket – it felt like he was stood back in his room at Golzine's mansion. As though he was getting ready for one of those parties.

And now he could feel fingers brushing a stray hair back; tilting his chin up and reminding him to stand straight; at the small of his back just to remind him he was a decoration. The same as the nutcracker on the mantle, only he’d never get the chance to return to his own candy kingdom.

His stomach forced itself into his throat. He couldn’t swallow.

"Ash?"

He blinked.

Eiji was at the door of the bathroom, leaning against the frame. Creasing his shirt, because it didn't really matter, Ash thought. It was an undergraduate college party.

"We don't have to go, if you don't want to."

They were allowed plus ones. There had been no question that Eiji was coming.

"I want to go." Ash's neck felt flushed, and it felt hard to take a breath. "Just not – looking..."

Eiji's eyes softened. Like they always did, ever since he found out. It just felt worse now that Ash’s past was completely in the past.

"Don't," Ash said.

"Here." Eiji stepped forward. Ash stared at the line of his hair, just above the collar of his shirt. It was inky black, shining in the light of the bathroom. Eiji looked handsome, like this – because it was a novelty.

Eiji's hands loosened his tie, and left it crooked. They slipped under the jacket, and slid it off from Ash's shoulders. It fell to the bathroom floor in a heap.

"Wear your bomber jacket, instead," Eiji said. Like it was simple.

"That's not formal."

"What are they going to do?" Eiji looked at him from beneath his dark lashes. His eyes caught the electric bathroom light, and shone like dark, rich honey. "Kick you out?"

"Maybe."

"Then we'll get takeaway and slow dance in the apartment, instead."

Ash raised an eyebrow. "Well, now I want to skip."

Eiji chuckled, and it was a brilliant sound. His hands crumbled the shirt as he held Ash's arms, reaching up to kiss him. He returned it, his eyes closing. Sighed, when he felt Eiji's hands in his hair, ruffling it out of style, twisting it in the long strands at the back.

Ash clung to him when he tried to pull away, hooking his fingers into Eiji's belt loops. But he was only taking Ash's hand. He had Max's cufflinks, in his pocket, from their wedding day. Fixed them on each of sleeves, his fingers practised and careful.

"There." He hooked his fingers into Ash's, leading him back into the bedroom. "Very rebel without a cause."

Ash winked and grinned. But he had a cause, once. He’d been a rebel, because there’d been a man to stop. Drugs to stop. The good fight to fight. Now Golzine – all other men – were dead, and he didn’t have a purpose. Instead, he had a degree to work towards. Less gunfights and peril and more all-nighters and caffeine.

He shrugged on his bomber jacket, and Eiji caught the front to kiss him again. It became open-mouthed; became Ash's tongue pressing against Eiji's, and his hands making even more creases in Eiji's jacket. Their hips pressed together, and he felt Eiji catch his breath.

They could keep doing this. Could blow off the party, and have sex instead. Try and have sex. They didn't always get all the way. Eiji said it was fine – that he didn't mind – but that had to be a lie. He wasn't actually an angel, willing to bare with Ash every step of the way. He had to be annoyed, even if he didn’t say it.

And Eiji nipped at Ash's lip before he pulled away, his bangs falling into his eyes. "Come on, James Dean, we'll be late."

Ash sighed, dramatically, but followed. Drove to campus with his hand on Eiji's thigh, and Eiji's hand over his. His heart raced. This made him feel alive.

They parked. The campus was all glass buildings, yellow lights; all modern and imposing. He’d looked around with Max, the two of them arguing over the leaflet. Eiji brought Ash's hand to his mouth. He kissed his knuckles, individually. They could stay here, Ash thought, but if he said that, Eiji would tease him for being scared.

He wasn't scared. Not of a Christmas party. His first normal Christmas party.

But they still weren't normal. They found that out when they walked up the steps and followed the distant sound of Christmas music to the lecture hall. Ash's professor – a dark haired woman who seemed to notice every little movement around her, greeted him warmly enough. Her dark eyes examined Eiji.

"And is this your friend? Boyfriend?"

Ash couldn't help grinning. He always did, when he got to say it.

"This is my husband." And he held up their joint hands so that Eiji's wedding ring caught the light. Eiji ducked his chin, his cheeks flushed, but held out his hand politely.

"My name's Eiji Okumura," he said. "It's good to meet you."

His teacher, Mary Catherine, shook Eiji's hand with a polite smile, though she still examined them both. Ash felt his skin prickle under the scrutiny.

"God," she said. "Married and neither of you should legally drink yet. That's – brave."

Ash just smiled. It didn't feel hugely brave. Not with everything else that had happened to him. Not compared to everything that Eiji did to stay by his side. Brave was disobeying Ash Lynx.

The party was held in the usual lecture room; a room not designed for socialising, Ash thought. But tinsel and fairy lights had been strung over the seats and around the board (complete with a wobbly 'Merry Christmas' written there). The front row of desks had been entirely taken over by snacks, whereas the teacher's desk was laden with a non-alcoholic mulled wine cannister, cards packed in willy-nilly around it. There was faint music coming from a laptop: a top 100 Christmas hits. All in all, it felt very school disco, just with young adults instead of young children. Everyone stood in clusters, chatting, over sprawled over the lecture seats in tight clusters.

They attracted attention. Eiji attracted attention, Ash thought, because he lit up every room he was in. But also because he knew he was the odd one out. No one knew he didn’t have a high school diploma, but it was like they still felt it. He’d sat an exam, written an essay, had a letter of recommendation, and that had gotten his place.

Soon they were surrounded by his classmates, whilst they all clutched glasses of lukewarm fake-mulled-wine, and the teachers chatted amongst themselves.

"It's so interesting to meet you.” One blonde girl beamed at Eiji.

"Ash is so mysterious!” The guy who sat next to Ash in the hall said. “We know nothing about his personal life."

"When he mentioned his husband, I thought he was being, like, ironic,” the blonde girl’s friend added.

Ash took a sip of wine, swirling it around his tongue. He chatted with everyone amicably enough, and mentioned Eiji often, he knew. They probably counted him as a friend. He couldn’t feel the same way. It all felt too shallow.

Eiji just laughed, politely. Charmingly. He was charming.

"So, how did you meet?"

Eiji caught Ash's eye. He raised his eyebrows, and choose to take another sip of wine. He wanted to hear how Eiji told it.

"I was working as a photographer for a journalist friend," Eiji said. “We were doing a piece in New York City. That’s when I saw Ash.”

"And then he asked to hold my gun."

The three tittered, their eyes wide. “Seriously?"

He’d made sure to make it sound like something else entirely, and it made Eiji choke on his own wine. He elbowed Ash, who had to bite his cheek to stop from grinning.  

The question made Ash think very quickly in just a second. He realised the context; the very reason Eiji had been there in the first place; the gangs, the drugs, the deaths. Who Ash Lynx was.

He swallowed. "Sorry. It's - an inside joke."

"I'm totally against guns," blonde girl said. "They should be completely banned."

It thankfully brought up the tired gun law debate, and Ash was forgotten, for a bit. That was always easier; when he didn’t have to talk about himself.

Eiji met his eye. His cheeks were red, and he loved that he could still make him look like that.

Ash forced himself to smile. But he was very aware they hadn't met conventionally - that nothing about them, or their relationship was conventional. How could he say that he'd dragged Eiji into a life-or-death situation from day one? Kept doing it, because he was selfish and in love. How could he explain that as much trouble as guns brought, he had loved his. It had been an extension of himself; its weight had felt right in his waistband. Aiming and shooting had been second nature – had felt right – a cheetah learning to run. He was a weapon, and that had been his fangs.

He'd loved his gun.

He couldn't say that. He couldn't say that a gun had saved him when he was eight years old. He’d have to explain too much. None of them knew anything. He didn’t want them to know anything about him. For once, he wanted to be considered normal.

Eiji leant across, to whisper in his ear, "At least they didn't ask about our first kiss."

And it was Ash's turn to choke. Absolutely not, he thought. These kids would be horrified if they knew he'd been to jail. (More than once, he thought.) Even more horrified that Ash didn’t ask Eiji's permission – and then they was everything else.

He reached round Eiji's back, and curled his finger in his belt loop. Not quite an imitation of what happened, but Eiji nudged their hips together.

Another girl had joined them, twirling her hair around her finger. "I really can't get over it - you're just so cute together."

"Like, total golden retriever, black cat vibes,” the blonde girl added.

He knew they were both blinking in bafflement. But kept smiling, politely. Not so different, then, from the old parties, Ash thought. All he had to do was smile and nod and perform. Only, at the end of this one, he'd be going home with Eiji. They didn't even have to have sex, if he didn't want to. They could lay in bed and watch a cheesy Christmas movie until they fell asleep. He liked that ending more than being told to be a good boy for Santa.

Eiji was grilled, of course, on who he was and what he did for a living. Eiji was much more at ease in answering those questions; he was good at small talk. His dark eyes shone like chestnuts, his smile gleaming. But Ash kept tracing over the white line of Eiji's shirt collar against his tanned skin. A curl of dark hair sat just under his ear lobe.

He downed his drink, heart thudding.

"So, are you at college too?" the guy asked Eiji.

Who did falter, then. "No. I'm - not."

And Ash noticed his expression change, then. Even as the rest of them uncovered that Eiji was from Japan - assumed he was an expert on Tokyo - and looked polite but disappointed when he said he was from a city they'd never heard of. Asked him to say stuff in Japanese, and Eiji complied.

The music got louder. And even though the wine was non-alcoholic, students started to dance. They swung the tinsel around and leant on each other and Ash knew they should join in, but he didn’t do this kind of dancing. He’d always leant against the bar and looked serious; he’d had a reputation to uphold.

Had.

They decided to head off, not long after that.

“You’re an intriguing person, Ash Okumura,” Mary Catherine, his teacher, said, when she shook his hand goodbye. Her grip was strong.

“Thank you,” he said, because it seemed the only thing he could say.

“There’s more to you than meets the eye.”

“Isn’t that true of everyone?”

She shrugged. Cast her eyes over the crowd gathered there, and leant closer, just slightly. Her hair fell forward. “To be honest, Ash, most of this class won’t continue on after undergrad. The ones that make it past masters is even fewer. But I think you’re one of those few that’ll go on to the doctorate. And I’m looking forward to calling you Doctor Okumura.”

It didn’t make him feel normal, but in a different way. It made him feel like he was struck with lightning; like there was something more to him. Something more than the nutcracker in the corner to be taken to bed later. And it felt satisfying to become something more.

He smiled at her. And thought that he’d still be wearing crooked ties and bomber jackets even then. A rebel with a new cause.

“So,” Eiji said, as they slid into the car. “How was it?”

He didn’t start the car, just yet. Instead, he kissed the line of tan skin that he’d been staring at all evening. Relished in Eiji’s sigh at the touch.

“Are you the black cat, or am I?” Ash replied.

Eiji laughed. He rested his head on Ash’s shoulder, moving with his arm as he began to drive. “They mean well.”

“How’d you find it?” Ash asked. “Your first American college party.”

“Not like the movies.”

Ash paused. He could still taste the mulled wine on his tongue; spiced and sweet and enough to go to his head.

“Takeaway and slow dancing in the apartment?”

Eiji kissed his cheek.

“That sounds like a good Christmas party.”

[coeurdastronaute]

Christmas: Day 33

maybe possibly continue the thanksgiving/christmas of clarke and lexa with it being their second christmas together and they do their own thing and attend new years party or maybe do the new years right after the thanksgiving/christmas story

Day 32

Even with the sludge and the general slush that was the busy streets in the winter, the car crunched its way down familiar streets toward the opposite side of town, departing the high rises of the downtown skyline and instead running for the wide open grey sky, plump with snow and the promises of a very, very white Christmas. Dressed in its best holiday attire, the city was brimming with cheer; lights hung from every tree, ornaments from every street light, balconies were glistening with the vast array of different decoration choices, and most importantly, tiny snow men appeared in tiny yards and parks and playgrounds, waving away the old and welcoming that sense of joy that seemed to creep in despite the chill in the air. 

The car was steaming, the heat pumping through the vents at a prodigious rate that made the inhabitants begin the slow process of taking off parts of their layers between stop lights and signs. Outside it was below freezing, but the cab of the vehicle was stifling in the way that only a car can be during the holidays, pumping in good spirits despite all else. 

“Are you really nervous?” 

“No… no. No, no,” Clarke shook her head as she put on the confident air she’d perfected throughout her life. 

“You already know Anya,” Lexa promised, seeing through it instantly, knowing that she had to offer a few extra words of encouragement to make it real, to put some weight behind the faux demeanor. “You’ve known her longer than you’ve known me.” 

“I work with her, but it’s not like we work together. We’re in vastly different departments. I don’t see her other than when we have dinner together.” 

“We’ve been dating for nearly three years. You know her plenty.” 

“I know. And I’m not nervous,” she shrugged. 

Lexa reach across the middle and held her girlfriend’s hand, easing her into it. It wasn’t lost on the lawyer that her girlfriend was nervous to spend the holiday without her family, nor that she was always a little nervous around Anya. For Lexa, there were no other options. She had to make a good impression on the only sister, the only living family member. She dreaded the thought of having to impress just Clarke’s mother or father or friends. She understood the pressure. 

“I’m excited we get to spend the holiday with my family this year,” Lexa decided to try a different tactic, attempting to lighten the mood. “It’s going to be great. And we can teach them how to make proper hot chocolate and such.” 

“I’m excited, too.” 

“Your mom wasn’t too hurt that I’ve stolen you for the holidays?” 

Clarke pulled Lexa’s hand to kiss it before looking out the windows again as the snow flurry picked up once more. 

“She understood. She was just excited we agreed to New Years with them.” 

“I can’t believe she was okay with inviting Anya and the gang up for the party. It was very cool of her.” 

“Well, you know Abby,” Clarke shrugged. “Always trying to be the hippest mom on the block. Plus, Dad really wanted to validate his transforming the shed to a guest house.” 

“House is generous.”

“Don’t tell him that,” she chuckled and agreed. “He worked very hard.” 

“I know,” Lexa grinned. “He sent me all kinds of updates. I think he was trying to separate us when we visit.” 

“Fat chance.” 

“We’re quiet, right?” 

“Very,” Clarke nodded before pondering it a little more. She decided to get that thought of her head immediately. 

“Well, I can safely say that Anya appreciated the gesture of including the whole family together, and they never get to go anywhere or go to adult parties. She’s probably more excited about that than about us coming for Christmas.” 

“My mom loves having kids running around the house. It works out so well. Why haven’t we thought of it sooner?” 

“I had to get you to date me for real, first.” 

“Shut up,” Clarke rolled her eyes, pinching her girlfriend’s bicep. “It wasn’t that hard.” 

“Mhm, keep telling yourself that.” 

“I’m not having this fight with you again.” 

“Yes dear,” Lexa smirked, lolling her head back toward the road as Clarke rolled her eyes once more and sighed, smiling through it despite herself. 

The car made its way across town as the streetlights came on. All of the creatures that would have been stirring quieted. Little faces pushed themselves against the cold glass of the windows and searched the sky for a sight of the sleigh. Christmas Eve settled atop the world with a sense of impending joy and a crackling warmth that kept all of the houses nestled safely on their streets. 

The intersection before her sister’s house, Lexa kissed her girlfriend’s knuckle and tucked her hand closer to herself, satisfied with her life and that she was someone who had many places to be for Christmas. A surge of love flushed itself through her system, and it went away just as unexpectedly, leaving behind a residue of warmth. 

“I love you, you know?” she asked her girlfriend who hummed along with the Christmas music on the radio. 

“Yeah, duh.” 

With a contented smile, Lexa let her head rest against the seat in the car as the warmth blew at the snow that clung to her boots. 

XXXXXXXXXX

Much like her own home for the holidays, the dining table at the Blake household was vibrant and alive, absolutely overflowing with bodies and hands and forks and delicious smelling food steaming at the windows and voices talking over each other to fill their plates and begin the sacred tradition of a Christmas Eve dinner. 

“We do the big dinner tomorrow,” Anya promise as she finished making a plate for her youngest daughter who slapped at the high chair, full of mirth and excitement. “But Chinese has been a Christmas Eve tradition since we were kids.” 

“This is absolutely better than anything I could have imagined,” Clarke promised, angling for a box of lo mein. 

“Our mom burned an entire dinner in some fashion their first Christmas together,” Lexa explained, handing out egg rolls to her niece and nephew and girlfriend. “Before we were even born. And every year, my parents just kept ordering.” 

“When I first got married, I debated the tradition.” 

“But I insisted,” Bellamy grinned from the head of the table. “Because it meant we got to spend the entire day having fun instead of cooking.” 

“And Lexa all but refused to eat anything else.”

“It’s a sacred tradition,” she shrugged, earning a look from her girlfriend. “I’ve been known to be stubborn from time to time.” 

“I didn’t think I’d ever hear you admit it,” Clarke taunted. 

“That’s your Christmas gift.” 

“I wanted to cook this year, but believe it or not, Lexa insisted again that I not change anything for you.” 

“I’m glad you didn’t,” she promised. “I can’t imagine a better dinner.” 

“And after we get to watch Christmas movies,” Madi explained as she worked her fork around her plate, doing her best. She was the spitting image of Lexa, and Clarke felt that aching kind of twinge to see her girlfriend with the mini-versions of herself. “And eat cookies and leave some for Santa and we got carrots for the reindeer.” 

“Oh wow. I better save room.” 

“I always try,” Lexa shook her head. “But all we do is eat for the holidays. There’s never enough room.” 

The frenzy of family slowed as everyone went about the arduous task of eating absolutely delicious food and savoring each other’s company. The baby made a mess, much to Lexa’s enjoyment, while the twins excitedly prattled on about their gifts and Santa and the movies and everything they wanted to do during their winter break. 

Somewhere between all of it, Clarke found herself swept into Lexa’s family, beaming at how happy her girlfriend seemed to be, to be a part of such a moment, to have a certain pride in having someone to share it with. It was as intoxicating as the wine that Anya freely and eagerly shared. 

The holidays at the Griffins were decidedly missing something in the form of tiny people who still had enough magic in them to appreciate the mystery of the time of year, and Clarke hadn’t thought to miss it until dinner on Christmas Eve. 

Lexa gingerly added more to Clarke’s plate, sharing her order of chicken and explaining eagerly how it was the best of all time, pulling Clarke back from her reverie.All Clarke could do was smile and dig into the new traditions. 

XXXXXXXXX

The noise came in the form of tiny feet pounding down the hallway, giggling and excitedly whispering past the room. Lexa shifted in her sleep, stretching slightly to tighten her grasp on her girlfriend. She enjoyed the warmth of the body beside her, she enjoyed her smell mingling with the familiar smell of her sister’s spare room, she even enjoyed the feeling of Clarke’s body relaxing into her own chest as she fought against waking. Lexa kissed bare neck and dug her nose into the shoulder of Clarke’s old flannel shirt. There was something wonderful to wake like that, and she knew it. 

“Merry Christmas,” Clarke whispered, tugging Lexa’s arm impossibly closer. 

“Merry Christmas, beautiful. Are you ready for presents?” 

“You’re worse than the kids.” 

“I never claimed any different. What’d you get me?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Do you want to know what I got you?” Lexa murmured, hand shifting slightly along her girlfriend’s stomach. 

“Kind of,” Clarke grinned but kept her eyes shut, her hips moving slightly against Lexa’s lap. 

The instant her fingertips dipped into sweatpants, the knock echoed against the door as the tiny feet made their way with great speed, back toward the Christmas tree and pile of presents. 

“You’re the one who wants kids,” Clarke reminded her girlfriend as she rolled over to kiss her cheek, earning a huff as the warmth escaped the bed. “Come on. Let’s go see what Santa brought.”

“But… we have a tradition,” Lexa pouted, head hiding in a mess of hair and pillows and sheets. 

“Sex on Christmas isn’t a tradition. It’s coincidence.” 

“Come back to bed. I can give you a quick coincidence.” 

Hopeful and smirking, she stretched across the bed to try to snag a loop in the robe Clarke put on before grasping only at air. 

“Morning Lex, Clarke. Merry Christmas. The heathens are waiting for you to open presents,” Anya called, her voice disappearing as she went down the stairs. “I’m making coffee.” 

“Looks like we have all new traditions this year,” Clarke teased, tugging a defeated girl out of the bed with a heave, though Lexa refused to make it easy. “I’ve been known to coincidence any time on Christmas though.” 

“What a coincidence, me too,” Lexa grinned. 

“Come on. Presents.” 

“We’re staying home next year. I don’t care what anyone says.” 

“Let me quote you on this in about ten months.” 

“Shut up.” 

XXXXXXXXXXX

The table was set, the candles lit, the plates perfectly ordered with properly placed silverware and fancy wine glasses. Despite the uproar of the kids playing with their toys and trails of wrapping paper throughout the house, the dining room ws expertly set and full of mirth and delicious smelling food. Gone were the flannel pajamas, and in its place were velvet dresses and ties, as everyone dressed up for the meal and friends arrived to partake, stretching the house at its seams with bodies and warmth. 

The evening fell quickly, with the lights and candlelight glimmering amidst the voices and happiness of old friends and children itching their collars. 

Clarke understood why Lexa said she liked Christmas Eve dinner the best with her family. It felt like a home in a different way than the giant, conventional feast of acquired family members. Christmas Eve, Clarke imagined, was what Lexa imagined her parents would have loved. Christmas was completely for them, their own developed tradition of a beautiful, dimly lit dinner with their closest friends, the found family that kept them alive for so long. 

When dinner was called, Clarke found her seat beside her girlfriend and smiled before earning a kiss against her temple while Bellamy’s parents started the applause as Anya brought out the main course followed by some friends with sides. 

“I’m going to grab the wine,” Lexa whispered after helping push in Clarke’s chair. 

In just a few minutes, everyone was seated and waiting for the items to start passing, but Clarke noticed the absence of her girl. When she looked around, she caught Lexa leaning against the doorway, just watching, two bottles of wine in her hand. Unsure of how long she’d been there, Clarke watched Lexa watch the family, and she felt the warmth of the season, she felt the burning of her adoration, she fell in love. 

When Lexa caught her eye, she straightened slightly before smiling quite sheepishly and offering a shrug. Clarke just gave her a wink before thanking Anya’s college roommate for passing the potatoes. 

XXXXXXXXXXX

New Year’s was no different than Christmas at the ancestral Griffin household. The trees and lights remained up, festive for the final time of the year, while fancy tables and candles all around, the tables and the food and the people mingled about. It was a full house, with friends and family taking their time getting reacquainted. 

From the moment Anya met Mr. and Mrs. Griffin, Lexa felt a warmth, a certain level of family that she couldn’t remember feeling in her entire life. She adored the Griffins. She loved spending time with Jake, as he fiddled in the garage and they escaped Clarke and her mother. Hell, Lexa even enjoyed helping Abby cook and chatting about the newest restaurants. And it sent her over the moon to see Clarke with Anya, so much that they even got coffee together and often saw each other more than Lexa saw her sister. 

But during the New Year’s Eve party, all of the world’s combined. Anya was sitting in the living room with Clarke’s childhood best friend. Bellamy and Jake were manning the bar, willingly filling the rest with spirits. 

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Clarke whispered, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s waist, her chin on her shoulder. 

“Just happy.” 

“Normally you get chatty when you’re happy. You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Lexa promised before kissing her girlfriend’s temple. “Just very, very, very happy.” 

“So, do you want to go make out in the garage for like ten minutes or…” 

“Can I steal her?” Raven interrupted, snagging Clarke’s arm. 

They were gone before Lexa could argue. 

Nervously, she toyed  at the box in her pocket, rubbing the velvet between her fingers. She couldn’t concentrate on much else, and she wasn’t sure how she was going to form words. Every time she tried to remember, her mind went blank. 

She refilled her glass of wine and earned a smile from Jake, amused and sympathetic. She watched Clarke and Raven moving through the crowd and felt the warmth and she was almost ready. 

XXXXXXXXXX

“Why do we have to go outside?” Clarke shook her head, tugging on her coat as Raven put hers on as well. “It’s almost midnight, and I have a kiss to give. I’m all booked up.”

“I want to show you my new car before the fireworks anyway.” 

“Did they add some budget to the fireworks this year?” she chuckled, afraid to acknowledge that the fireworks were barely visible from the town square. 

“It’s all anyone’s been talking about for months.”

“You’ve got to get out of this place.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Raven chuckled. 

The Christmas lights remained on every house on the block, completely illuminating the night and twinkling in the leftover feeling of mirth and joy, hoping to prolong the world a bi longer, to embrace the frigid cold and beautiful, pure snow, and cast off the cynicism that was inevitable within two months. It was the night of firsts, the night of new, the night of beginning and ending, all at once, a sadness for what was lot and a reverence for what was to come, the door of possibilities open wider than ever or any other day. And the Christmas lights remained, a beacon on every eave, a galaxy amidst winter’s distress, ushering in time and the striking of clocks. 

The pair walked along the shoveled driveway as Clarke surveyed her home and her old neighborhood. She seemed to remember every branch, exactly as it was, so that even when she was away, her mind knew how they grew, so there was never a change, all remained intact. 

“Shit,” Raven sighed, her breath clouding up in the cold. “I forgot my keys. Just… I’ll be two seconds.” 

“It’s freezing. Can’t I just see it tomorrow?” Clarke sighed. 

“Just hang tight. It’s not midnight yet.” 

Suddenly alone in front of her childhood home, Clarke looked into the windows, watching from a new vantage point the life that was being lived inside. She wondered if Lexa’s habit of voyeurism was rubbing off on her. There hadn’t been a time she remembered taking these moments to look and listen and see, more importantly. But now, Clarke paused and watched, like a movie at the drive in. 

When the door opened again, when the noise from the party grew louder and then dissipated again, Clarke looked to see her girlfriend appear instead of her friend. 

“Thirty seconds left in the year, and I was afraid I was getting stood up,” Lexa smiled, shivering in the cold. 

“I would never. Raven made me come out, but I’ve lost her, it seems.” 

“Sounds like Raven.” 

“Well, you’re here now. Care to usher in a new year with me, Woods?”

Clarke cocked her head to the side as she wrapped her arms around her girlfriend’s neck. Lexa’s arms moved around her waist in the familiar pattern they’d developed. Inside, the noise seemed to die down as the count began for the final seconds of the year. 

“There is absolutely no where else I’d rather be.” 

Clarke couldn’t wait, leaning forward to kiss Lexa one last time and for the first time as time existed beyond them. The cheers and confetti erupted in the house and the fireworks boomed in the distant, barely visible beyond the roofs across the street. 

“Happy New Year,” Clarke whispered, her cheeks blushing with the cold and the kiss. 

“Happy New Year,” Lexa returned, not even opening her eyes but smiling nonetheless. 

“We should go inside.” 

“Just one more minute.”

Even with their foreheads pressed together, Clarke nodded and closed her eyes as well. She felt Lexa’s hands toying with her coat, and she felt her breathing warm the space between them. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Lexa nodded again.

“You’re shivering. Let’s go in.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she nodded again. “Wait. No. I don’t want to go inside yet.” 

“But your--”

Lexa pulled away slightly, but she didn’t move. She furrowed and gulped, afraid to look at her girlfriend’s face. It flashed gold and green and blue and red and gold again with the display. 

“I love you.” 

“I know. I love you too,” Clarke promised. 

“I need you to not say anything for like thirty seconds, okay?” Lexa waited until she earned a nod. “Okay. I love you. I knew I was in love with you the very first Christmas we spent together, and the very first year you kissed me on New Years. I love the life you’ve given me, and I love the person I naturally am when you’re here.” 

Clarke watched the movements happen, she couldn’t quite understand it, despite knowing what it all meant. She watched Lexa dig into her pocket. She watched the little black box appear as Lexa knelt on one knee in front of her. 

“I’ve fallen so entirely in love with you, that I want to spend the rest of my life, my holidays, my new years, my old years. I want it all with you. And I was wondering if you would marry me?” 

Lexa stared back at her girlfriend and gulped again, her heart entirely stopping for the duration of what felt like an entire lifetime. 

But words didn’t come, just Clarke pouncing forward and hugging Lexa’s neck so tightly she thought she might break it right there. But she nodded and nodded and hugged so fiercely she couldn't entirely nod. And when that failed, she kissed her. 

The crowd that formed near the door and windows yelled and clapped, though neither noticed. 

“I love you so much,” Clarke mumbled, unable to breathe or see or talk or do anything other than exist in a state of pure bliss. 

“Good. Be mine forever?” 

“Of course.”

NEXT

[terrific-togekiss]

What if there was a Walt Disney Fighting Game? [Video Game Concept]

Note: I am well aware, that Disney would probably never say yes in a million years to this idea. Taking their beloved, child friendly characters and having them fight?!

OH THE HORROR?!

I am also aware there have been concepts for this in the past.

Final Fantasy Dissidia was supposed to be a Kingdom Hearts fighting game, but Nomura felt uncomfortable portraying Disney characters in such a violent atmosphere.

And there are sketches of what a Walt Disney fighting game could've been, inspired by Super Smash Bros, before it was canceled. It would've focused on more violent characters such as Gaston, Beast, Ursula, Captain Hook, Captain Silver and the Horned King. But the idea was dropped.

Here's the link.

This entire post is just building and putting together what a Disney fighting game would look like to me, if one came out in today's world. It's all merely speculation and ideas that's been in the back of my head for awhile.

(Special thanks to @mayflower-gal for helping me set this up. 😁)

Anyways, let's get started!

Part 1: The Plot

For the plot, I believe it would have to be something simple, since this an idea for a first game. It's the start of a potentially huge franchise, so I wanna keep it not only simple, but an aspect that helps kick off the potential series. And pull in many fans, old and new of Disney.

Let's take into account one thing: what's a recurring theme across various Disney movies (and overall media)?

Is it the lovable, comic relief sidekick that makes audiences laugh? Is it the songs that kids find themselves singing, long after the tale is done and the curtain has closed? Is it perhaps, the clever celebrity choices for important side characters?

No, It's the one defining aspect that draws in audiences, both new and old, bringing you to fall in love with the characters as the story is told:

Wishes.

Pinocchio wishes to be a real boy. Beast and all his servants wish to be human again. Tiana wishes to have her own restaurant. Ariel wishes to see the world beyond the sea.

Everyone wishes for something more in their life and have dreams that they wish come true.

What if all those wishes were counted? Collected?

Watched over. Much like a parent to their children. Or a teacher to their students.

Found engaging. Found entertaining. Found comforting. Found peaceful. Found introspective.

Looked at with childlike wonder and glee when accomplished.

But frowned on when those wish for selfish desires. And an even deeper disappointment at those very same inhuman desires, coming true.

Good and bad exists inside every person, it's just a matter of what one chooses to act on and stand by at the end of the day.

What someone wishes for is reflective of that.

Now imagine that same being coming to life and wrecking havoc across the Disney universe. Judging for themself, if any of these colorful, imaginative characters, truly deserve their...

Happily,

Ever

After.

Yep, the main plot of the story mode is all the various Disney characters literally fighting for wishes and dreams to come true...

against the LITERAL embodiment of wishing upon a star.

Each playable character having their own unique ending.

Some endings being repeats of your favorite Disney movies, with some minor changes to acknowledge the game's plot. While others are original due to the wide cast of characters that are available, besides your favorite Disney Heroes.

For example, you beat the story mode as say, Pinocchio, he wishes to be a real boy.

I know it sounds very redundant since a majority of these things already happen in the Disney movies, but I feel as though relieving them would be fun. In addition to some original ones that didn't happen with either the villains or less major characters.

It's only the hypothetical first game and I wanted start with something simple, that fans could easily get into. More complex plots, with more character interactions should be saved for any possible sequels.

Part 2: The Gameplay

The game would be your typical 2D fighting game. You have,

Combos exclusive to every character that requires practice.

Playstyles that make each character feel unique.

Special moves for each character to get the upper hand and the main focus in besting your opponent in 1 VS 1 matches.

Of course, there's dialogue before fights in the character intros. With so many to pick from, it had to be put in somewhere.

It resembles 2D fighting games that you've all no doubt heard of, such as Marvel VS Capcom or Street Fighter.

But what would a Disney fighting game have to offer on the table, in order to survive the overall video game market?

It would have to be something unique and a feature that not only gives it originality, but a chance to stand out with so much creativity and innovation. Practically begging fans for more.

Which is why I present to you: Disney Songs.

Or as this game prompt will call them: Musical Finales.

The highlight of many Disney movies and overall media, the music is what leaves a lasting impression on many audiences. Which is not surprising, since Disney is mostly a musical. At least in terms of most of their films.

With so many iconic songs from throughout the company's history, of course I'll be squeezing them somehow!

Each character has a music meter, that can only be filled up with how the player times and follows the beat of the character they play as. Follow the rhythm and beat of a character, and it will fill up quicker. Get cut off by the opponent and it doesn't fill up.

That beat being the music of the stage each player fights on, by attacking to the music and the same time. Think of it like the Sound Battles mechanic in Mother 3.

Every character has four different kinds of attacks: Neutral, Musical, Wonderful and Special.

Neutral Attacks are normal attacks that are mostly used to set up combos.

Musical Attacks are attacks that deal more impact, when timed with the music of the stage.

Wonderful Attacks can be seen as character oriented attacks, that embody the personality and charm of the character you play as. And can be used to entertain the audience. We'll get into that later.

Special Attacks are unique finisher moves that require a separate meter to be filled up, as with most fighting games.

Now what happens when the music meter is full? A Disney Song starts playing of course!

Say you filled up Cinderella's music meter for example, then "Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo" starts playing, granting some unique abilities for Cinderella.

Each song would grant different outcomes and bonuses for the various characters. They're not Special Attacks, as that's already a separate mechanic already.

For example, "Part of Your World" starts playing if you're playing as Ariel, filling up the stage with water and slowing down the opponent, giving Ariel a chance to either take advantage of that, bump items into them or create big waves of water.

But what happens if BOTH characters trigger the music meter at the same time?!

Well, that's where this gimmick becomes a fight for which song keeps on playing!

Both songs would start playing, both at the same time and volume. Except, both characters have to compete to see which is stronger.

This is done by the two characters fighting, before triggering a rhythm game between the two. Once one is the victor, the other song fades, while the other stays playing. Doubling the duration of that character's Musical Finale.

Another mechanic is the Entertainment Meter. Every level you fight on has one, that determines which fighter the audience likes more. Via Wonderful attacks, you can charm the audience into supporting you more. This activates things like getting healing items or stat boosts in power and speed. Some of your favorite Disney sidekicks even provide aid from the audience!

It's almost like watching a Disney movie live and being able to interact with the story!

Or the battle system in Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door.

I feel as though this is the best way of keeping the game interesting, giving it an identity of its own and still embodying that magic people will grow to love. It can also lead to some entertaining interactions in the background or foreground of a stage, as the music meter also brings in characters that would not be playable, but support playable characters nonetheless. Like Flounder and Sebastian.

Of course, either feature could be turned off if you're not a fan of that sort of thing, but that's a given.

Part 3: The Stages

With many Disney movies pick from, it's no wonder there's plenty of choices to pick from. Since this is the first game, I chose to focus more on the movies. Here's my take.

Steamboat (Mickey Mouse cartoons)

Duckberg (Ducktales)

Spoonerville (A Goofy Movie)

Dwarven Forest (Snow White and the Seven Dwarves)

Wonderland (Alice in Wonderland)

Monstro (Pinocchio)

The Prince's Ball (Cinderella)

Neverland (Peter Pan)

Forbidden Mountains (Sleeping Beauty)

The Coliseum (Hercules)

Andy's Room (Toy Story)

Elsa's Ice Castle (Frozen)

San Fransokyo Institute of Technology (Big Hero 6)

Atlantica (The Little Mermaid)

House of Mouse (House of Mouse)

The West Wing (Beauty and the Beast)

Cave of Wonders (Aladdin)

Pride Rock (The Lion King)

Ant Island (A Bug's Life)

Tamatoa's Trove (Moana)

Hawaii (Lilo and Stitch)

Headquarters (Inside Out)

Mor'du's Ruins (Brave)

Big Ben (The Great Mouse Detective)

Notre Dame (The Hunchback of Notre Dame)

Merlin's Cottage (Sword in the Stone)

Emperor's Palace (Mulan)

The Great Before (Soul)

Todayland (Meet The Robinsons)

Paradise Falls (Up)

Zootopia (Zootopia)

Monsters Inc (Monsters Inc)

Nomanisan Island (The Incredibles)

The Bayou (The Princess and the Frog)

Atlantis (Atlantis: The Lost Empire)

Halloweentown (The Nightmare Before Christmas)

Oakey Oaks (Chicken Little)

Spirit Mountain (Brother Bear)

Sherwood Forest (Robin Hood)

Treasure Planet (Treasure Planet)

Horned King's Castle (The Black Cauldron)

The Secret Lab (The Emperor's New Groove)

Bald Mountain (Fantasia)

The Grid (Tron)

World's End (Pirates of the Caribbean)

Radiator Springs (Cars)

Grandmother Willow's Forest (Pocahontas)

East High School (High School Musical)

The Axiom (WALL-E)

Regent's Park (101 Dalmatians)

New Mushroom Town High School (Onward)

Happily Ever After Castle (Walt Disney Opening)

Part 4: The Roster

The bread and butter of many fighting games, the roster is no doubt one I had a bit of trouble putting together. With so many characters from over the years, it's no surprise. But since this is the outline of a possible first game, here's my interpretation.

Also, the cast is big to avoid being too barren or dull.

And because I had a lot of fun putting it all together.

Mickey Mouse (Mickey Mouse): The all around character of the game, he mostly fights by a series of cartoonish tricks, magic tricks and his paintbrush from Epic Mickey. His Special Attack would have him break the fourth wall like and rewind the fight like an old film projector in reverse. Except he heals, while the opponent receives twice the damage. His Musical Finale "Sorcerer's Apprentice" has him use Yensid's Sorcerer hat to its fullest and give his overall moveset more flashes to distract the opponent and slow them down.

Donald Duck (Donald Duck): Everyone's favorite, greedy mallard and the world's angriest duck. Donald would fight mainly with toon force, his fists, his bad luck and his anger. The more damage he takes, the angrier he gets. His Special Attack would have him don the Duck Avenger persona from his PK days and use a series of superhero gadgets to finish the opponent. His Musical Finale "The Three Caballeros" trades his anger for Jose Carioca and Panchito Pistoles showing up, making him happy. As they hurt the opponent, each time they hit Donald, to keep him happy.

Goofy (Goofy): Everyone's favorite Disney dad, Goofy joins the fight as not the brightest but with the biggest heart. He has toon force to aid him in some unconventional ways. His Special Attack would have him become Super Goof from his older days. His Musical Finale "Eye To Eye" would restore health everytime he dodges an attack, with a dancing flair to it.

Snow White (Snow White and the Seven Dwarves): The first Disney Princess, Snow White makes her debut and she's not alone. The Seven Dwarves direct most of her attacks, such as tossing rocks, mining tools as weapons and even just grabbing the opponent and tossing them. Snow White herself can sing and command woodland animals to tie up opponents or just fight to defend her. Her Special Attack would have the Dwarves try to roll a boulder, only for lightning to strike on the opponent and the boulder as extra damage. Her Musical Finale "Whistle While You Work" will call on a huge number of forest animals, as they tidy up the stage and Snow White, slowly replenishing her health and slowing down the opponent.

Pinocchio (Pinocchio): Don't lie in his presence, as that nose is not only for show. Pinocchio fights mostly by using his nose as a staff, the Blue Fairy bringing other toys to life to aid him and Jiminy Cricket distracting the opponent with music. Pinocchio's Special Attack would have him wish upon a star and turn himself into a real boy, as the opponent is turned into a puppet and loses damage as a result. Pinocchio's Musical Finale "I've Got No Strings" would cover the stage in thin lines used for puppets: if the opponent touches one, their frozen briefly. If a projectile attack hits, the same happens.

Cinderella (Cinderella): The bell of the ball and someone whom never gives up on kindness, Cinderella will use the dance moves she showed off at the ball for her moveset, having a dancing and musical feel to how she plays and flashy dances to win against the the opponent. With her Fairy Godmother using her magic to help her, such as flashes of light. Her Special Attack would have the clock strike midnight and she leaves behind her glass slipper: once the opponent touches it they get weighed down by a giant magic dress. Cinderella's Musical Finale "Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo" would have the Fairy Godmother cast a series of spells over the stage, as a new carriage pops up every time Cinderella pulls off a combo. The carriages run over the opponent and can even carry Cinderella to safety.

Peter Pan (Peter Pan): Leader of the Lost Boys and Captain Hook's second biggest pain in the butt, Peter Pan and Tinkerbell are here. Peter Pan has a pocket knife with him and Tinker Bell's pixie dust for aerial attacks. His Special Attack would have him toss a bunch of gold on the opponent, as the rest of the Lost Boys tackles them and beats them up for the treasures. His Musical Finale "You Can Fly" would create a trail of pixie dust behind him, that randomly causes the opponent to either jump too high or too low.

Captain Hook (Peter Pan): Keep all 'ticks' and 'tocks' away from this pirate! Captain Hook has a wide array of hooks to switch between, a flintlock pistol and his sword to win the battle. His Special Attack would have him run away from the Tick-Tock the Crocodile, as said crocodile attacks the opponent instead of Hook. His Musical Finale "A Pirate's Life/Elegant Captain Hook" would call his ship the Jolly Rodger onto the stage, as the pirates on the ship occasionally throw knives at the opponent and shoot at them, everytime Hook is caught in a combo and can't escape.

Aurora (Sleeping Beauty): Aurora, sleeping beauty herself, is doing anything but sleep and her guardians are making sure of that! Her attacks has the Good Fairies use their magic in numerous ways, such as moving objects, animating objects and even petrification. Her Special Attack has Prince Philip show up with the Sword of Truth and the Shield of Virtue, to deal heavy damage on the opponent. Her Musical Finale "Once Upon A Dream" boosts her stats everytime she's hit.

Maleficent (Sleeping Beauty): The Mistress of all Evil, Maleficent uses a wide array of magic powers from cursed, throny vines, to her iconic green fires, she's one tough fighter from a distance. Her Special Attack would have her turn into a dragon and breath fire down on the opponent. Her Musical Finale "Once Upon A Dream" would have her make the opponent more drowsy, each time they hit her, until falling asleep, unless they keep moving.

Robin Hood (Robin Hood): The sly fox of England and one talented theif, this fox focuses on disguises, archery, swordsmanship and woodsmanship to make his way. His Special Attack would have authorities show up to arrest him, as they rain down arrows on the opponent in the process. His Musical Finale "Running Through The Forest" would allow him to dodge all attacks, without needing to hit the controls or input buttons.

Basil of Baker Street (The Great Mouse Detective): World's greatest detective! At least in the mouse world that is. Basil would investigate the stage of the fight, much like a crime scene and even pick up clues that double as weapons, such as a propeller or a mouse trap. His Special Attack would have him investigate a crime scene that hurt the opponent, before pushing them aside as 'worthless' evidence. His Musical Finale "Let Me Be Good To You" would have him require no further evidence and counter each hit with a deduction on his opponent's crime and even stop them from performing combos. Doing damage in the process.

Professor Ratigan (The Great Mouse Detective): Never call him a rat. Ever. This crime boss of the miniature crime world be no stranger to fist fights and gleefully take a swing at your demise, whether it's his fists, cane or traps. If not him, then his minions are more than happy to drown some orphans! His Special Attack would have him call his pet cat, Felicia to devour the opponent. His Musical Finale "The World's Greatest Criminal Mind" would give him more durability to hits, more destruction to the stage and traps cover more range on the stage.

Ariel (The Little Mermaid): Princess of the Sea, everyone's favorite mermaid is ready to explore beyond the sea. Armed with her father's trident, some amazing swimming skills and various sea animals at her command, she's more than ready. Her Special Attack would have her conjure a giant wave, that also covers the opponent in sea creatures. Her Musical Finale "Part Of Your World" fills the stage with water and can have Ariel bump floating objects into the opponent.

Ursula (The Little Mermaid): The last sea witch you would want to cross paths with, Ursula has eels to do her biding, poisonous ink clouds and even thunderclouds. Her Special Attack would have her turn giant via King Triton's trident and use the added power to attack the opponent. Her Musical Finale "Poor Unfortunate Souls" has her disguise herself as the opponent and slowly regain health from all souls being eaten by her. As a bonus, if she's infront of a mirror that's on the stage, her reflection will be her true form.

Belle (Beauty and the Beast): My, quite an odd girl, reading books and getting on the field of battle?! Belle's entire moveset would revolve around books; not magic books, just books on the rest of the cast and fairytales overall. She would be able to switch between each of these books and use what she's learned from them. For Example, 'Romeo and Juliet' gives Belle immunity to stat changes and rose themed weapons that hurt the opponent, like throwing weapons. 'Aladdin' gives her a magic ring that can conjure up magic smoke, furniture on the foe and teleport her. 'Jack and the Beanstalk' plants vines that can raise her up or entangle the foe. There's more books at her disposal, but that's just the general idea. Her Special Attack has her father ride in on his invention, chopping up an entire forest until the opponent is covered and crushed by chopped up logs. Her Musical Finale "Tale As Old As Time" gives her the power to 'skip' a fairytale, turning each of her attacks into the endings from the books. For example, 'Aladdin' would trap the opponent in an oil lamp, leaving room for her to attack.

Beast (Beauty and the Beast): The poor and cruel prince, turned into a monster as evil as the one in his heart. Beast has his boost in strength from his beastly form and claws to defeat the opponent. The curse not only affected him: his servants are by his side. Lumiere can incinerate the opponent or plant fires on the ground, Cogsworth can distract them with timed clock sounds, Mrs. Potts can spill tea to slip up the opponent, Chip will knock over bookshelves and Wardrobe can block attacks. His Special Attack would turn the opponent into a piece of furniture, leaving them open for attacks: each opponent having a different transformation. His Musical Finale "Be Our Guest" would have every attack with one of his servants, also heal Beast in addition to hurting the opponent.

Gaston (Beauty and the Beast): Nooo oooone's slick as Gaston! Quick as Gaston! No one's neck is as incredibly thick as Gaston! He's especially good at combo breaking! Boy what a guy that Gaston! Gaston has his inconic blunderbass and his fists, along with a bow and quiver and a hunting knife to deal with an opponent, almost as if they were an animal he's hunting. His Special Attack would have an angry mob charge at the opponent and beat them up. His Musical Finale "Gaston" gives him a strength boost, everytime he pulls off a combo successfully.

Aladdin (Aladdin): Everyone's favorite street rat and theif, he's not alone on the field of battle as Abu and Genie are here to help him. Abu can cling to the opponent and hit them repeatedly, Magic Carpet can be used for aerial attacks, Aladdin has a sword that he 'borrowed' from a guard and Genie can shape-shift in a variety of ways to best the opponent. Aladdin's Special Attack would have Genie distract the opponent, as Aladdin steals something off them and uses it to beat them. Aladdin's Music Finale "Friend Like Me" would have Genie grant a wish, each time Aladdin gets a combo, such as a stat boosts and healing.

Jasmine (Aladdin): The sultan's own daughter that would rather be anything than a prize to be given away. She has learned self defense skills, her father's guards and her pet tiger Rajah in her moveset. Her Special Attack would have the guards arrest the opponent and toss them into prison, as they struggle to escape and take damage. Her Musical Finale "A Whole New World" has one the Seven Wonders of the world occasionally pop up in the background to hurt the opponent, as the fight goes on.

Jafar (Aladdin): The Sultan's Royal vizer of Agrabah and one whom believes he should rule Agrabah. Jafar has his magic staff to hypnotize and cast spells onto his foe. Occasionally tapping into the phenenomal, Cosmic power of his Genie form to do some real damage. And Iago is here as well... mostly to complain. His Special Attack would have him become an all powerful Genie and Iago wishing for ways to 'hurt' (not kill) the opponent. His Musical Finale "You're Only Second Rate" would boost all of his stats and attacks, except he can't KO the opponent until the Musical Finale is done.

Simba (The Lion King): King of the Pride Rock and son of Mufasa, the Lion King himself is more than prepared with his claws and iconic roar. His roar can even control the weather to strike lightning and cause windstorms. His Special Attack would have him call on the spirit of his father, Mufasa, as the two of them roar at the opponent. His Musical Finale "Circle Of Life" will have him remember, how we are all connected and draw on the life-force of nature, slowly healing him and giving his roars more range.

Scar (The Lion King): Mufasa's little brother and King after his timely demise, Scar has his claws and his hyenas to make short work of his foe as if their nothing more than a light snack. His Special Attack would toss the opponent of a cliff, into a Wildebeest stampede just like in the movie. As a bonus, he would say 'long live the king's son' if Simba is the opponent. His Musical Finale "Be Prepared" has him do damage without needing to attack the opponent and just walking into the opponent.

Pocahontas (Pocahontas): Daughter of Chief Powhatan, this Disney Princess has the skills necessary in order to survive and win. Her Special Attack would have her people come in to fight alongside her and best the opponent. Her Musical Finale "Colors Of The Wind" gives her attacks more launching power and each dodge she does generates winds that hurt the foe.

Governor John Ratcliffe (Pocahontas): The main villain of Pocahontas, this greedy scoundrel will do anything to claim what he believes is rightfully his. He has a sword and uses his position of power to call his men into the fray. His Special Attack would have his men charge like in the movie at the opponent. His Musical Finale "Mine, Mine, Mine" prevents the opponent from interrupting his attacks and tripping over any gold sticking out of the ground.

Quasimodo (The Hunchback Of Notre Dame): The hunchback of notre Dame himself and quite the sweetheart, he just wishes to see the outside world. His job as the ringer of the bells comes in handy to stun them, swing bells at them, his talented acrobatic skills and surprising strength. His Special Attack would have him reenact the Festival of Fools and have the opponent be caught up in all the chaos. His Musical Finale "Out There" turns all of his bell attacks, into soothing sounds, that heals him.

Esmeralda (The Hunchback Of Notre Dame): An outcasts, like many other outcasts of Notre Dame, she's picked up on a multitude of tricks to evade capture. Such as illusionary tricks to trick opponents and various circus acts from the Festival of Fools. Her Special Attack has Phoebus teleport out of a field of smoke and beat the opponent. Her Musical Finale "God Help The Outcasts" plants multiple pillars of light over the stage, that burn the opponent and heal Esmeralda.

Judge Claude Frollo (The Hunchback Of Notre Dame): Someone whom believes only he can purge the world of evil and that all he does is for the greater good. Frollo, due to his old age mostly uses his sword, his horse and his 'fears' to end the opponent. Those 'fears' being cloaked figures that defend Frollo and burn the sins of his opponent. His Special Attack burns the stage, with the opponent caught up in the flames being tied to a stake. His Musical Finale "Hellfire" burns the opponent every time they hit and touch Frollo.

Arthur (Sword in the Stone): The rightful king of England, proven by pulling the sword in the stone, Arthur is ready to be king. Merlin's apprentice is armed with the sword of legend: Excalibur and his mentor Merlin is there to provide some magic aid by turning Arthur into various animals and predict the opponents attacks with foresight. Arthur's Special Attack has Merlin turn into a germ to infect the opponent. Arthur's Musical Finale "Higitus Figitus" grants Arthur increased weight, almost as if he's the sword in the stone and making him harder to launch and knock away.

Hercules (Hercules): The son of the Greek God Zeus, Hercules goes to prove himself as a true hero and this brawl may be his greatest trial yet. With his power as a Greek God, granting him immeasurable strength, agility and endurance. And his pet Pegasus shows up for aerial attacks. His Special Attack has his father Zeus come in and hurl his thunderbolt at the opponent. His Musical Finale "Zero To Hero" increases his durability each time he pulls off a combo, making him immune to attacks at times.

Hades (Hercules): Greek God of the underworld and lord of the dead, Hades will claim victory. In addition to mastery of fire and smoke, Hades can shift between generally calm and collected, to angered and enraged, which affects the range and power of his attacks. Pain and Panic also shapeshift to provide some help. His Special Attack has the Titans show up and attack the opponent. His Musical Finale "My Town" floods the stage withdead souls that slowly deplete the health of the opponent.

Mr. Incredible (The Incredibles): One of the greatest superheroes whom ever lived, in spite of an unneeded early retirement from the government. Robert "Bob" Parr, known to the public as Mr. Incredible, has his moveset revolve around his superstrength and invulnerability, also being able to use the environment to his advantage like uprooting trees. His Special Attack calls in the rest of The Incredibles; Dash, Violet, Elastigirl and Jack-Jack to help take down the opponent as a family. His Musical Finale "The Incredibles" has his attacks all release shock waves that occasionally make debris hit the opponent, like it's the intensity of a comic book.

Syndrome (The Incredibles): You better catch him while be monologues as he does not play around! The wannabe superhero uses zero point energy to toss the opponent and send objects flying their way. His Special Attack calls in the Omnidroid to make short work of the opponent. His Musical Finale "Kronos Unveiled" forces the opponent to not stand still for too long or repeat the same attacks, or else the Omnidroid will fire lasers at them almost as if their being analyzed.

Mulan (Mulan): From lying to save her father's life, to saving all of China to joining other famous Disney heroes on the field of battle, Mulan has been through a lot. She has a sword, fireworks, a staff and a fan to best her foes. Mushu tags along, spitting fireballs at the opponent and tricking them into attacking smoke illusions that resemble Mulan. Her Special Attack has fireworks hit a snowy mountain, crushing the opponent under an avalanche. Her Musical Finale "Reflections" has Mulan disguise herself and blend in a crowd that slowly came onto the battlefield. The opponent attacking a random person will have them retaliate and hurt them.

Jack Skellington (The Nightmare Before Christmas): The pumpkin king and the patron of Halloween, his title comes with a wide array of pumpkin bombs, a flexible and detachable skeleton body. His Special Attack would have him trap the opponent in a series of giant pumpkin bombs, before his pet dog Zero lights them up. His Musical Finale "This Is Halloween" plants a series of tricks and treats all over the stage: treats for Jack that heals him and tricks that leave the opponent in a scared state. They take more damage while scared.

Oogie Boogie (The Nightmare Before Christmas): A literal burlap sack of nothing but bugs, Oogie Boogie has those very same bugs come out and harm the opponent. From spiders that tangle them up, to tarantulas that poison them to flies that hoist them up, he's as gross as sounds. His Special Attack would have him inhale the opponent and let his bugs do the work. His Musical Finale "Oogie Boogie's Song" increases his luck of landing higher damage, by also hitting a dice on the stage.

Tarzan (Tarzan): A man raised by apes, Tarzan has the strength to even keep up with apes and survive in the forest. In addition to his amazing strength, Tarzan can also swing from vines, use his impressive smell and hearing to counter attacks and a spear. His Special Attack has him command an army of apes to beat up the opponent. His Musical Finale "Son Of Man" puts fruits on the trees he swings from that he can heal himself with: since the opponent is not Tarzan the same fruits either poison them or make them dizzy.

Yzma and Kronk (The Emperor's New Groove): The former advisor of Emperor Kuzco and her most loyal henchman. Kronk does the fighting with his astounding strength and Yzma will be in the background, occasionally throwing potions on the opponent. Kronk will pull the lever, that will do a variety of things such as drop a bust of Yzma, a giant rock, a vase, etc. Their Special Attack has Yzma yell 'PULL THE LEVER KRONK!' sending the opponent and Yzma down a trap door to below the stage. Leaving it up to interpretation what happens, as Yzma casually walks back to the stage with a crocodile biting her leg. Their Musical Finale "Snuff Out The Light" replaces Yzma's potions with singing that prevents the health bar from going any lower.

Milo J. Thatch (Atlantis: The Lost Empire): An orphan that grew up to be quite the cartographer to even finding the lost city of Atlantis. Since he's not much of a fighter, the friends he made on the trip will do the fighting for him. Vinny plants explosions, Mole digs holes and attacks from the ground, Sweet heals Milo and boosts his durability, Audrey sends vehicles at the opponent and Cookie leaves food for people to trip over. He's even picked up on some Atlantean magic from Kida. His Special Attack has him pilot an Atlantean cruiser, shooting lasers at the opponent. His Musical Finale "Where The Dream Takes You" reverse the opponents controls, every time Milo lands a hit, almost as if their lost without a map.

Kida Nedakh (Atlantis: The Lost Empire): Princess of Atlantis and the current Queen, Kids is armed with a spear and a connection to the Heart of Atlantis, granting her forcefields and runes that dish out the ancient city's might. Her Special Attack summons a giant tsunami with the opponent being hit as Atlantis sinks. Her Musical Finale "Kida Returns" has the stage covered in runes, as the guardians of Atlantis will hit the opponent if they step on a rune.

Stitch (Lilo and Stitch): Experiment 626, also known as Stitch is an alien that befriended the kind-hearted Lilo Pelaki. Stitch is indestructible, has four plasma blasters, can roll up into a ball and lift up to 3000 times his own weight. His Special Attack calls in his cousins to each hit the opponent once, before Stitch himself smacks them with a car. His Musical Finale "Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride" doubles the strength of any attacks timed with the music.

Captain Jack Sparrow (Pirates of the Caribbean): Captain Jack Sparrow comes to the battle with his signature sword, musket and flintlock pistol. His Special Attack has the Black Pearl ram the opponent and shoot cannonballs at the opponent. His Musical Finale "He's A Pirate" makes him impossible to KO, he can still take damage though.

Sulley and Mike Wazowski (Monsters Inc): The dynamic duo and best friends, Sully and Mike fight with the former scaring the opponent and the latter being pulled from the background, used as a ball to hit opponents. The more combos they land, the more scare is generated as energy: this energy being used to power machines to attack the opponent. Their Special Attack has the stage be overloaded with scare energy, to the point of canisters bouncing all over the stage and hitting the opponent, much like in Monsters University. Their Musical Finale "If I Didn't Have You" makes the opponent laugh each time they hit Sulley, generating energy and leaving them open to attack.

Jim Hawkins (Treasure Planet): Jim Hawkins, someone with the 'makings of greatness' according to Captain Silver has a chance to prove that here. With his solar surfer to pull off some amazing tricks, a knife and a blaster, he can hold his own just fine. His Special Attack would simply be Treasure Planet blowing up, with the opponent caught in the explosion, as he flies away on a ship. His Musical Finale "I'm Still Here" gives him the markings of greatness, in the form of stat boosts everytime he pulls off a trick on his solar surfer.

Captain John Silver (Treasure Planet): The fearsome pirate cyborg and only real father figure to Jim Hawkins, Captain Silver is ready to use those pirate skills from over the years to claim his treasure. As a cyborg, he has a wide selection of tools and weapons, such as lasers, a cybernetic eye, guns, a sword, a cleaver, a battering ram, the list goes on. His Special Attack has the opponent fly into space, while he leaves on a pirate ship. His Musical Finale "I'm Still Here" fills the stage with comets that can freeze the opponent if they come into contact with them and increases the strength of Silver's lasers if they pass through.

Merida (Brave): The Scottish princess and daughter of Queen Elinor and King Fergus, enters the battle with her archery skills and swordsmanship to win the fight. Her Special Attack has her ride in on her horse Angus, delivering a series of arrows to finish off the opponent. Her Musical Finale "Touch The Sky" makes all her arrows hit the opponent, without fail.

Kenai and Koda (Brother Bear): The bear brothers, one born a bear and the other cursed to turn into a bear. Kenai and Koda fight as a team of bears from claws to wilderness skills they picked up. Even the Great Spirits watch over and protect them, by influencing nature to protect the brothers. Their Special Attack has the spirits of Sitka and Koda's mother come in to protect them and deal with the enemy. Their Musical Finale "On My Way" increases the range of their block, with the Great Spirits protecting them.

Tiana and Naveen (The Princess and the Frog): A hardworker that believes the only way you can make it in the world, is through hardwork. Even if that meant kissing a frog. Tiana has a wide assortment of cooking utensils to win. With Naveen distracting them with singing and dancing. They can switch to being frogs, where they use their tongues to tangle up the opponent and hop off lily pads. Their Special Attack has Mama Odie turn the opponent into a series of animals, before sending them away with her Voodoo magic. Their Musical Finale "Almost There" gives Tiana a golden glow that greatly increases the range of their attacks and distracts the opponent with golden glows.

Dr. Facilier (The Princess and the Frog): The Shadow Man himself and one whom turned Naveen into a frog, Dr. Facilier fights with his cane, Voodoo magic, shadows and spell casting. His Special Attack has him pull the opponent into a deal, as their dragged down by the Voodoo Spirits. His Musical Finale "Friends On The Other Side" let's him take a gaze into the opponent's future, turning all of his attacks into counters, if they hit the same time as the opponent's attacks.

Rapunzel (Tangled): The lost princess of the Kingdom of Corona, blessed with magic hair and has quite the efficient frying pan. Her hair can not only heal herself a bit, but can be swung from, tie up the opponent and makes for a surprising whip. Her Special Attack has Flynn and Maximus ride in, with Rapunzel hitching a ride, as the three take down the opponent. Her Musical Finale "I See The Light" fills up the stage with lanterns, that can blind the opponent if they touch any.

Hiro and Baymax (Big Hero 6): The child genius and the helper robot turned fighter have become quite the crime fighting duo, that honor Tadashi's wish of wanting to help people. Baymax does the fighting, with Hiro on his back, such as martial arts, rocket fist, an energy blade and sonic blaster. Their Special Attack calls in the rest of the Big Hero 6, as they teamup and take down the opponent. Their Musical Finale "Immortals" assuming they get the rights to the song has Baymax dodge every attack that comes, without needing to move the controller and slowly heal up.

Judy Hopps (Zootopia): A young bunny from Bunnyburrow that came to Zootopia to pursue her dreams of being cop and help people. Her bunny physiology grants her enhanced hearing, quick agility, high jumping and she has trained herself to take down foes much bigger than her. Her Special Attack has her do her job as a cop and arrest the opponent, with the entire police force joining in to help. Her Musical Finale "Try Everything" plants tourist attractions all over the stage, that can hurt the opponent and heal Judy.

Elsa (Frozen): The Queen of Arendelle and the Ice Queen herself, forced to conceal don't feel, don't let them know. But she'll be doing anything but that here! Elsa has ice powers to freeze the opponent, create pillars of ice, ice slides, ice skates etc. Her Special Attack calls in Marshmallow to deal with the opponent. Her Musical Finale "Let It Go" allows her ice powers to come to life and aid her in battle.

Moana (Moana): Moana of Motuni, whom has sailed the sea to return the Heart of Te Fiti with Maui. She has a harpoon and an oar, along with the ocean helping her and watching over her. Her Special Attack returns the Heart of Te Fiti to Te Fiti, whom fully heals Moana, temporarily boosting her attack. Moana's Musical Finale "How Far I'll Go" covers the stage in water that has boats to hit the opponent and granting Moana faster speed.

Maui (Moana): The Maori Demigod of the wind and sea, with quite the number of feats from over the years. With his magic fish hook, he can shapeshift into a number of animals, his most common being a hawk. His Special Attack being lassoing the sun into the opponent. His Musical Finale "You're Welcome" makes all damage to Maui, take longer to leave an impact.

And that's that. A LOT longer than I thought it would be. Now your probably thinking, what about all the other Disney media? It's an idea for the first game, so other characters (Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, Scrooge McDuck, Goliath, Kim Possible, etc.) would appear in a potential sequel.

Or DLC, since every game these days has it.

Thanks so much for reading all this and taking the time to do! I would love to hear some thoughts and feedback! I had a blast making all this and would like to see if you're interested in hearing more video game ideas.

[fancat-not-fangirl]

It’s Not You Pt.13

a/n: sorry that took so long! Hope you enjoy! <3

It was the day before Christmas, and Cas was in one of the worst moods of his life. He couldn’t remember a time when he had been this upset or angry. Ever. Yes, he had been disappointed at last year’s Christmas, and yes, it had been a huge let down, but it was nothing compared to the emotions roiling inside him at the moment.

Dean had tried to make him feel better after he had hugged his mom goodbye before she left for the airport. Dean had made him hot chocolate and smores, and had blasted Bruno Mars songs from a speaker and danced ridiculously through the house, trying to get Cas to dance and sing along. At the sight of Dean’s flailing arms and kicking feet and movements that looked more like he was having a seizure than actually dancing, Cas had smiled, but nothing more. 

It was three in the afternoon, and Cas’s day hadn’t been productive in the least. After having breakfast with his mother and then saying goodbye, Cas had marched upstairs and dove under his covers, refusing to come out until hours later, and only then it was because Dean had almost pushed him off of the bed to eat lunch. Any other day, Dean’s prepared chicken nuggets would have made Cas’s day, but this day it just served as a reminder of Cas’s missing mom. While Dean was talking away and shoveling food into his mouth, Cas could do nothing but stare out the window and pick at the food on his plate. 

After lunch, Dean had smiled softly at Cas and had insisted that he do the dishes. Cas hadn’t objected, and had gone to sit on the couch and turn on Netflix, where he absentmindedly chose a random movie to watch.

Dean had joined him after putting the dishes in the dishwasher, and since then, neither boy had moved from their spots on the couch. Usually, Cas would have cuddled up against Dean and wrapped his arms around him, but today he opted to curl up at the edge of the couch and stick to himself. As much as he saw that that hurt Dean, he couldn’t help it. He was upset and frustrated and, if he was being honest, he didn’t even remember what movie he chose. From the giggles and snorts Dean was letting out every few minutes, it must have been a funny one, but Cas couldn't bring himself to laugh. Not when he was in such a bad mood.

The movie ended, and after a few minutes of silence and Dean staring at him, Cas realized that he still had the remote. Uncurling himself from his fetal position, he stretched out the remote to Dean and turned back to stare blankly at the screen.

“What movie do you want to watch next?” Dean asked tentatively.

Cas shrugged. He didn’t care.

A small smile graced Dean’s face, and he quietly teased, “I don’t think there’s a movie called,” he shrugged. He had obviously hoped that it would have gotten a laugh out of Cas, and was disappointed when Cas made no response.

Dean sighed. “Mask of Zorro it is, then.”

Another hour and a half passed between them, just as awkward and silent as the previous one.

This time when the movie was over, Dean didn’t bother turning on the next one. He just put the remote down and folded his arms, no doubt trying to find a way to lift Cas’s spirits, or, at the very least, get Cas to talk to him. 

Cas hated himself right now. He knew he was being unfair. He knew he was being an asshole. But, knowing that he was being ridiculous and actually doing something about it were two very different things. So he kept silent, brooding and fuming, mad at himself and his mother and the world.

When Dean finally opened his mouth, Cas had been expecting a joke. A pun. Maybe even a funny story about Dean’s childhood, which he had so many of up his sleeve. What he was not expecting was the quiet whisper that came out of Dean’s mouth.

“My mother died when I was four.”

Cas froze. 

“I never really got to know her.”

“Dean, you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine.” Dean glanced at Cas out of the corner of his eye. “I know your mom problems, so I guess it’s only fair if you know mine.”

Dean never talked about his mother. Never. There were mentions of her here and there, and Cas knew that he kept a photo of her in his wallet, but neither Sam nor Dean ever outright talked about her. Cas hadn’t even known her name until a few months ago.

“I only remember a little about her. She used to make something called the Winchester Surprise.” Dean smiled at the memory. “It was a heart attack on a plate, it was so greasy and fatty, but my dad and I loved it. And her meatloaf.” Dean grinned and closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of content. He opened his eyes back up and looked at Cas. “It was to die for.”

Cas felt himself soften. He knew how hard this was for Dean. He hadn’t asked him to share, but the look on Dean’s face made Cas refrain from stopping him.

“When Sammy was born, I remember her being so happy. We all were.” Dean’s face became sad then. “Until the fire.”

Cas reached out and took Dean’s hand into his own, intertwining their fingers and squeezing. 

“Nobody knows how it started, but suddenly my dad was pushing Sammy into my arms and screaming at me to get him out of the house and then he ran out later with my mom. She had burns all over her but she was alive. Barely.”

Dean’s breath hitched.

“They took her to the hospital. I remember we used to visit her every weekend. I hated seeing all the tubes and white sheets on her.” Dean’s voice was growing quieter and quieter. “She was going to get better. That’s what the doctors said. But then the doctor assigned to her messed up her medication and her condition got worse. And they told us we couldn’t do anything about it. We could only watch her die.”

Dean trailed off for a minute, and then took a deep breath and continued.

“My dad started to get really weird. He started drinking, and would leave us in hotel rooms for days on end doing who knows what, who knows where. So basically it’s just been me and Sammy against the world since then.”

No wonder Dean loved his brother so much. Cas suddenly realized that nobody but Dean called Sam ‘Sammy’. Sam always introduced himself as Sam, and now that Cas thought about it, there had been multiple occasions in which someone had called Sam ‘Sammy’ and the taller student had almost growled at them to call him ‘Sam’. Even his best friends didn’t call him ‘Sammy’. That spot had already been taken by the person Sam loved most in his life.

Dean was still talking. He told Cas about his own Christmases, which were usually spent in crappy hotel rooms and with convenience store candy as presents. How Dean had to take random jobs with low pay just to support him and Sam. How Dean had worked and worked over the years for money to give Sam so that his little brother could go to college. How Dean’s father would get drunk and come home without the ability to cook for himself. Dean’s cooking talents made sense now. As did a lot about who he was a why.

Cas was grateful that his mother hadn’t gone rogue the way Dean’s father had after she lost Cas’s father. Cas couldn’t have imagined a life without his mother, or any mother, for that matter.

“I probably talked you to sleep there, didn’t I?” Dean tried to joke when he finished, but Cas could tell that the information revealed to him in the past five minutes was more than Dean had told people over five years. Cas was understood. He knew that he himself didn’t talk about his family much. Maybe he owed Dean that.

“My dad left pretty soon after I was born.” Cas started. “I don’t really know why. He just took off one day and didn’t come back. He left my mom with five kids. Boys, of all things.” That brought a small smile to Dean’s face.

“My older brothers, Mike and Luci, would always fight. I don’t think there ever was a conversation between the two of them that didn’t end in a punching match. Mom went crazy trying to keep them from beating the crap out of each other. Their fights got so bad that sometimes they’d throw things around, both at each other and at anyone who got in their way.”

Cas hesitated for only a moment before pulling his sweater collar down to reveal his collarbone, and the small scar on it. During a particularly bad fight, Luci had thrown a glass plate across the room, and Cas had just rounded the corner to the kitchen when the plate shattered against him and embedded a piece of glass the size of his thumb into his collarbone. He didn’t think he’d ever seen his mother as angry as she’d been that day.

Dean’s sharp intake of breath pulled Cas back from his memories. Shrugging and pulling the sweater back up to cover it, he lied, “I don’t remember much about it.” He didn’t need Dean’s worry.

“Raph was always independent. It’s no wonder he left home as soon as he could. He barely talked, but you could tell that he didn’t like the way things were run. He used to try to be the boss of everyone and tell my mom how she’s raising us wrong, but after being told off one too many times, he just stopped. He’d stay in his room for days on end, only coming out to eat.” Cas didn’t know his older brother very well, but he didn’t like him. If he was being honest, he was glad that Raph had packed up and left home as soon as he got his driver's license.

Cas ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “We drove my mom crazy, the lot of us. With Luci and Mike fighting all the time, Raph trying to be the boss of everyone and then just not talking. And Gabe.” Cas snorted. “Gabe always tried to play pranks on us, not taking anything seriously.” He let out a breath of air. “We were a handful. She worked at a hospital a few hours away, just in case something happened at home. We all knew she wanted to travel, but I guess she couldn’t take a job like that with us around. She couldn’t become a travel nurse, not while we were all living here. I guess we all knew that, too. Luci and Mike left for college as soon as they could, going as far away from us and each other as possible. I don’t think I’ve seen them or Raph in years.”

Dean squeezed his hand. 

“I don’t mind, though. Too much drama, if you ask me. Having Gabe over is enough trouble. I don’t think if the entire family was in one house, all of us would make it out alive.”

They both chuckled at that.

“And with them gone, my mom got to get out of that hospital and become a travel nurse. She’s been all over the world, and I’m happy for her, even if it means that I don’t get to see her as often.”

“I saw pictures of you guys in the basement.” Dean said after a few seconds of silence.

The look Cas gave him must have been one of confusion, because Dean then clarified, “When I was getting the ladder for the lights a few days ago.”

Oh.

“You look a lot like your mom.” Dean remarked. “Even though your hair is different colors. But your eyes look the same. And your face shape. And your ears. And your nose.” Dean was getting funny now, trying to pull the conversation up a bit. Cas rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his face. “And your arms. And your hands.” Dean’s voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. “And you butts.”

Cas snorted at that and glared at Dean, smacking him on the arm. “I don’t know if that’s a compliment to me or an insult to her.”

Dean laughed and batted Cas’s hand away. “You’ve got it all mixed up, angel. She should be honored that she has an ass as great as yours.”

Sticking his tongue out at Dean, Cas was secretly glad that Dean had started joking. He didn’t know how much more family sharing he could have done without snapping. Family had always been a sore topic for Cas. People were constantly leaving him. First his father. Then Raph. Then Luci and Mike. Then Gabe. And now his mom. 

The thought of his mom brought back a wave of suppressed emotions, and Cas felt himself slip back into that small pit of loneliness and betrayal. 

Dean sensed that Cas was curling in on himself again, and quickly blurted out, ���Do you have more pictures of your family?”

Cas blinked, surprised. He then nodded, and taking Dean’s hand, led him across the house and down to the basement.

He flipped on the lights and made his way down the creaky stairs that his mother kept promising that she would call someone to fix. If this kept up, Cas would have to fix them himself. Too bad he didn’t even know the first thing about using a hammer and a nail.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and Cas immediately made a beeline for the tower of boxes at the far corner of the room. Heaving one of them into his arms, he brought it to the old stingy couch that Dean had draped himself over. Dropping it to the floor, he shoved at Dean until the older smiling boy shifted his body to make room for Cas. 

“That’s a hell of a lot of dust.” Dean said as he traced a smiley face into the layer of dust settled at the top of the box.

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock.” Cas snorted, prompting Dean to chuckle at the sarcasm in his voice.

He pried the flaps open and opened the box.

He was not prepared for the scream that Dean let out, nor the rush of air that hit him when Dean almost flew across the room and up the stairs, disappearing from view. Cas was left wide eyed and confused, hands still holding the box flaps.

“Dean?” He called warily. Was something wrong?

“Is it gone?” Came Dean’s voice from the top of the stairs. “Is it dead? Did you kill it?”

Cas furrowed his brows. Was what dead? He stopped craning his neck to try to see Dean and instead looked back down into the box. Oh.

There was a spider on the first photo album in the box. It had no doubt made the box its home, and was clearly not happy with the commotion going on around it, and was running back and forth along the cover of the album.

“Dean, it’s just a spider. It’s not going to hurt you.”

“You don’t know that! It could be poisonous! It could kill you! Get away from it!” 

Cas laughed to himself and shook his head. Who would have thought that the ‘I’m Not Afraid Of Anyone Or Anything Because I’m So Tough’ Dean Winchester would be scared of spiders.

Cas reached into his pocket and pulled out a tissue, softly dropping it onto the spider and then picking it up, careful not to crush it. He got up and padded up the stairs to where Dean was cowering at the top. 

Dean’s face was relieved at the sight of the tissue, and he straightened back up, running his hand through his hair. “Thank God you killed it.” He let out a breath.

“Oh it’s still alive.” Cas said, gesturing with the tissue. 

Dean’s eyes went comically wide as he realized what Cas meant, and he backed away as Cas marched past him and to the nearest window, opening it and shaking the spider out of the tissue and onto the grass outside.

“There. Are you happy-” Cas’s words got cut off as he turned around and was met by a lung crushing embrace from Dean. 

“You could have died!” Dean pulled back and exclaimed. He over exaggerated his movements as he put his hand up to his forehead and pretended to swoon. “My hero!”

Cas rolled his eyes again and made his way back down the stairs, smiling softly. Dean was ridiculous, but Cas couldn’t deny that he was thankful for Dean’s jokes and laughter. They made the room brighter and Cas’s life happier.

It was mere minutes later that Cas took everything back. He did not like Dean’s laughter. Not one bit. Not when it was directed at a picture of baby Cas in diapers, sucking on his own foot. Or when it was aimed at another picture of Cas, this time with his head stuck in a chair.

By the time they were done with the first photo album, Dean was almost in tears at the amount of laughter coming out of his body. He couldn’t seem to stop, getting himself under control only to flip a page and find an even more humiliating picture of Cas on it, driving him into hysterics again.

“You got a what stuck up your nose?” Dean wheezed out as he clutched at his stomach and giggled at the picture of the medical record in the album. “A bead? Why?”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Cas prepared himself for the bout of laughter after he said the words, “I wanted to know how it smelled so I shoved it up my nose.”

Dean full out started cackling at that. There were tears in his eyes and Cas would have bet money on the theory that his neighbors could hear the hoots of laughter coming from the house. Cas had stopped trying to shush Dean a while ago. Not only was it useless, but he also wasn’t in the mood for it. Not this time.

“And you had to go to a doctor to get it out?” Cas nodded at Dean’s question. “How far up was it?”

“Far enough.”

Dean giggled again. “The doctors must have thought you were insane.”

“No, actually. There have been much MUCH weirder things in their offices. Trust me.” Cas said. He then remembered. “My mom actually had this one guy that had a stick of salt stuck up his butt because he thought it would repel ghosts.”

Dean giggled at that.

“I actually think we might have his file somewhere down here.”

Dean’s eyes suddenly went wide and he sat up from his lounged position on the couch. “Your mom keeps her patient’s old records here?”

Cas nodded. “Yeah. I don’t know why though.” He gestured to some boxes near the stairs. “We sometimes go through them, and she shows me what dumb things people have been checked in to the hospital for.” Seeing the look on Dean’s face, Cas added, “If you want I could show you the papers of this dude who was said to have been mauled by a crocodile in the sewers, but I have no clue to why he was down there in the first place.”

Even before Cas had finished talking, Dean had got up and lunged for the boxes and ripped off the tops, letting out a low whistle at the amount of names and files inside. Looking up at Cas, he winked, and said, “Your mom must have had a lot of patience for all these patients.”

Cas groaned and also got up, shoving Dean in the shoulder as he came up behind him. “You’re not funny, you know.”

Dean pursed his lips. “I think I’m adorable.”

Cas rolled his eyes again and reached down to open another box, the one he knew would have the file with the man with the salt stick up his butt. He quickly flipped right to the Z section, grateful that his mother kept the names alphabetized. Zeddmore Zeddmore Zeddmore he chanted under his breath. Aha! He found it.

He took the file out and was just about to wave it triumphantly in Dean’s direction when he heard a loud string of curses come from behind him and turned just in time to see the box Dean had been looking through topple over, sending files and papers all over the floor.

Great. That was just what Cas needed.

Dean finished cursing and stared in silence at the mess, then looking up at Cas sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Cas tried not to grumble, but it came out harsher than he wanted anyway. 

Dean dropped down and started picking up the files one by one, and Cas set the box back upright, soon joining Dean on the floor. Some of the names were familiar. Cas remembered Claire talking about some of them. The name Jody Mills was familiar. So was Donna Hanscum. His mother had liked those patients. In fact, Jody had visited them once at the house after Claire had helped her get better following a hunting accident. She had been nice, and Cas could tell why his mother had talked about her so fondly.

Cas saw Dean reach for another file and add it to his pile. If they kept this pace up, it would be a while before they’d finish. Not that Cas had anything better to do. If he had it his way, he’d be in his room, lying in his bed, staring at the wall. But Dean couldn’t have that. He would make sure that Cas was taken care of and happy-

Dean froze beside him. Cas blew it off as another one of his jokes and went to grab another file from off the floor. Dean still hadn’t moved. Cas glanced at Dean’s face and was surprised to see that it wasn’t smiling or grinning devilishly at him. It was frozen in an expression that Cas didn’t know how to read. He reached for another file.

“What is this?”

Cas almost missed it, Dean had said it so low. If he didn’t know any better, Cas would have thought that it had been a growl. But that wasn’t right. Dean didn’t growl. Not at him. Not at anyone.

“What is what?” Cas asked.

Dean turned his gaze onto Cas, and Cas realized that something was very wrong.

Dean thrust a file at Cas, who barely had time to catch it before it slammed into his chest. Why was Dean looking at him like that? Just a second ago he was laughing and joking and making fun of him. What had gotten him to riled up? What-

Cas looked down and froze.

In his hands was a file with two words printed at the top.

Mary Winchester.

[starlessskies94]

Gone for Good. (Negan/BlakeAU)

So a few days ago the lovely @scarletthart96 asked if I could do a second part to my other oneshot ‘Gone, Lost and Forever Broken’ so here it is...I reworked this with an old piece of writing I did years ago because I feel like the tone was very similar to what I was going for. I just hope it’s not terrible. @neganandblake I hurt your babies again I’m sorry but I’m big on the angst :D hehe <3 @scarletthart96 I hope this is okay for what you had in mind and doesn’t disappoint <3

(GIF Credit belongs to owners)

Gone for Good.

 It was that time of year again and everyone was thankful for the break. Christmas had quickly come and gone and the invites had soon after been sent out, just like last year and the year before. The room buzzed with life as music flowed through the speakers along with the joyful sound of everyone that had attended. Families, friends and colleagues danced, sang and drank away the last minutes of the year that they were about to leave behind. 

The colourful decorations filled the room along with balloons that had somehow floated up towards the ceiling, as they watched the happy crowds celebrate below them. Voices hummed into one another until it was too loud to hear yourself think. As the booze continued to flow so did the conversation. Simon’s New Year's Eve party was always something to talk about the next morning. The laughs and joyful banter echoing throughout the room, with smiles on guest's faces proving that they were clearly having a good time.

That is... all but one. The lonely man that stood silently watching the celebration from afar. Taking a deep breath, he fiddled with the empty champagne glass in his hand while the other stayed in his pocket as he leaned with his back against the wall.

They'd been fighting a lot over the last couple of months. Thinking back now he couldn't even remember what it was about. Separating seemed like the right thing to do for them at the time. But standing here in a crowd of people without her, he'd never felt more alone. More than once he'd been approached by someone, whether it be a colleague wishing him a happy new year or a friend offering a word or two of comfort. Each time he'd been the same, forcing a small smile of thanks before retreating back to his corner away from the crowds. Silly of him to think that going would've lifted his spirits. If anything it broke his fragile heart even more.

For a second a genuine smile found him as he watched his friends enjoying themselves. Arat trying to convince Simon to dance, each time managing to get him to the dance floor before he'd chicken out and head back to their table. But his smile quickly faded as he silently prayed that she could be here too. Having fun and smiling. God he missed her smile… He missed her.

As the last few seconds slipped away, he was given another glass to toast the New Year. People gathered on the dance floor ready to welcome a new start.

He watched couples come together as the lights dimmed and the music faded into united chants counting down the seconds.

In that moment he felt numb. Foolish. She should be here, she should be stood here in his arms welcoming the New Year they were supposed to spend together. But it was all over now, all gone and he couldn't understand why.

With each second he felt another crack in his heart as it ached calling out for her.

TEN!

NINE!

He should have fought, should have held on…but he didn't.

EIGHT!

SEVEN!

Did she miss him too? Was she as miserable and heartbroken as he was? He couldn't know but he knew he needed to see her.

SIX!

FIVE!

Maybe they could fix it. Whatever went wrong, maybe they still had a chance. But how can you fix something when you don't know what caused it to break?

FOUR!

THREE!

He was tired. Tired of being alone, having to live without her. He just couldn't do it anymore. He needed to see her, just to hear her voice again.

TWO!

ONE!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Cheers and laughter filled the room as a shower of confetti fell from the ceiling. Kisses and hugs were exchanged between couples and friends as they toasted to the New Year. Downing his drink, he quickly rushed out the building bursting out onto the sidewalk as he hailed down a taxi.

Traveling through the city streets, he glanced out the window to see the city alive with celebration. Every restaurant, club; all bubbling with well-wishers and party goers. His nerves ran high as his hands trembled with anticipation. Pulling up at her apartment building he jumped out of the car, racing up the stairs before coming face to face with her front door.

He didn't hesitate as he knocked. Clenching his hands and tapping his feet impatiently as he waited while panting for lost breath.

The door slowly opened to reveal her standing there in her casual wear with a look of confusion in her eyes. She glanced at him stood in her doorway dressed in his suit, panting like he'd just run a marathon.

“Negan…what are you-"

"I can't do this! Okay I'm sorry! I'm sorry for all the fighting, I'm sorry I'm so goddamn stubborn. I'm sorry for whatever went wrong!” He stuttered, every word tumbling from his mouth before he could stop to breathe.

He took a hold of her hands; his grip gentle but tight. She could feel them trembling as he continued, his every word rushed and breathless; he’d more or least rehearsed this in his head during the drive over. But standing here, now right in front of the woman he was so afraid to lose again…the words held new weight that he could feel in every heartbeat.

“All I know is that I want to fix this, I can't just walk away Peaches. It's too hard. I know we said that being apart was for the best but it's killing me. I can't stand the thought of you hating me because of all this.” He said desperately. Blake moved to speak but Negan stopped her. His hands squeezing hers a little harder. “You want to yell? Cry? Call me names? Hell fucking throw things at me?! That's fine, I'll take it. But don't give up on this, don't give up me. Please!"

She didn't say anything. Not even the words he'd wanted to hear. Instead with tear-stained cheeks she stepped back towards her door. Her hands untangling themselves from his grip.

“Negan…I…I can’t…”Blake paused. Both their eyes moving to rest on the jacket and boots laid in her hallway. Negan faltered, his breath catching in his throat.

Of course she was seeing someone else. It had been months since they’d broken up, what had he expected? She wasn’t happy with him and never would be and it high time Negan realized and accepted that.

“Shit Peaches…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- Fuck!” He cursed himself for being so goddamn stupid to actually think that she’d want him back. His blood ran cold, heartbeat echoing in his ears as he backed away from the door.

“I shouldn’t have come here…I’m sorry.” He held back the tears; refusing to cry in front of her. He didn’t by any means feel strong enough to try but he’d damn well pretend for the sake of his pride.

Looking at her now. Blake wasn’t his anymore and he’d been missing the woman that didn’t exist. She’d changed. And he’d been chasing memories, mourning a love that didn’t exist anymore.

He saw the look in her eyes. The pity in those deep green orbs and for a moment he hated her for it. He didn’t want her fucking pity and hated himself for embarrassing himself like this. For being so damn weak for something Blake didn’t even want anymore.

It wasn’t fair. On either of them.

“I should go, I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

“Negan, please don’t go…” Blake begged, once against passing the threshold to comfort him; her heart breaking as he flinched away.

“No it’s okay…it was a mistake coming here…Happy New Year Peac-Blake.”

With that Negan left, never once looking back. But Blake watched him leave and with every agonizing second she was desperate to call him back. To hold him, kiss him again. Tell him she was sorry, that she wanted to fix everything just as much as he did. But she didn’t.

Instead Blake retreated to the quiet isolation of her lonely apartment, the New Year celebrations playing out on the muted TV screen that illuminated her living room. And with silent tears, the blonde moved to pick up her vibrating cell phone. Sniffling away the ache in her chest as watery eyes read the text from a man that didn’t deserve her. Didn’t treat her right and certainly didn’t love her as much as Negan ever would.

David. She felt sick the more she thought about it. The man would never be satisfied with anything she did. She would never be good enough in his eyes. And yet she’d had stayed. Put it with everything he did and said, never once striking back.

There was no going back now that Negan knew. No chance to explain. To tell him that by losing him; had she then realized how much she loved him. That the love was still there…

He’d been gone mere seconds and Blake already missed him. This was their second chance and she had let it walk out and leave her alone. And this time she had a feeling he was gone for good.

[marisbugs]

dare you (to let me go) | part 4

Arthur Shelby x Reader

Summary: It was just a game you’d been playing for years to no end. After all, you knew each other since forever – since, as you usually said, you happened to be dumb enough not to run away when you had the chance and got stuck with the Shelby family.  

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Timeline: season 1 – 2-ish.

Word Count: 6,218.

Warnings: Language.

A/N: I’ve been struggling with this for so long, I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore. Plus, I was finishing it while my head was splitting into million tiny pieces, so I’d really appreciate if you give feedback to let me know it doesn’t suck too much. (It’s okay if it does.)

After the purchase of the Garrison, Arthur was in high spirits mostly, even though he still struggled to understand what his place in the family was, with Tommy taking charge of everything and him following his orders, just like in the war. Sometimes it felt that they had never really come back. It was partially true for they were clearly not the same men who left England five years ago, but it was all right: it was impossible to see what they saw, to do what needed to be done and stayed the same; they had to become somebody else to survive. Their old selves died in the mud of France.

The change wasn’t what was bothering him, not in that sense. He could go for days without thinking about it or remembering things that’d better remain forgotten. It was the feeling of disconnection from reality that derived from his ignorance of simple things that were taking place around him which was troubling him most. He was supposed to be aware of things. He was supposed to know the answers to the questions people had been asking him, but all he could give them was a blank stare and an incoherent mumble. He hated to be kept out of the loop.

He didn’t hate Tommy, though. He had been angry with him more often than not lately, but he couldn’t hate him, even if he wanted to. They were brothers in more ways than one, and they would always have each other’s back, just like they always did. It didn’t mean, however, that he had to like everything Tommy was doing, intended to do or had already done without any kind of family council. Frankly, it was frustrating.

That was why he liked spending his time at the Garrison: apart from free booze and despite occasional headaches caused by accounting, he knew exactly what his place was there. He, for once, was the boss; no one questioned his authority. As for other things, such as him being terrible with numbers, he could always ask Grace to check the books after him and rely on you to help him manage the pub’s finances. Yeah, that wasn’t the part that worried him, not at all.

Carelessly throwing his cap onto the desk, Arthur dampened his handkerchief with some liquor he had taken from a bottom compartment of his desk and put it to a newly received cut on his cheek. A stinging burning of the alcohol was, in fact, rather satisfying. It meant a deed well done.

He flopped down on his chair and pulled off his bow tie as the excitement of a fight gradually gave place to tiredness and exhaustion. Pulling out the upper drawer, he scooped out a couple of humbugs he didn’t remember putting there but somehow knew he would find. It was a hunch based on the previous experience of sharing a workplace with you. He was about to slide it back in when something at the bottom of the drawer drew his attention. Reaching inside, he already knew what it was for he had spent enough time looking at it for every detail to become imprinted on his mind forever.

It was a photo – a family portrait of sorts – taken shortly before their enlistment. The women were sitting while the men were standing behind them: John’s hands on the back of Martha’s chair, his very pregnant wife looking up at him over her shoulder, a wide smile on both their faces – it seemed that John had just cracked some kind of an inside joke understood only by the two of them; closer to the center was Polly with Finn on her lap; then there was Ada who had become quite a flapper by the time she turned eighteen if a fashionable haircut and the fact that she was staring at the camera with a touch of affected boredom, which made her look a bit arrogant and faintly aloof, were any indications; somewhere in between behind Polly and her, Tommy was standing, with a smile which now was almost a foreign sight on his face; then there was he himself – younger still, with yet no moustache and fewer wrinkles and fine lines, his pocket watch chain freshly polished, although it was impossible to tell because the picture was in sepia. In the span of four years that photo had been connecting him with the world beyond the front lines, he had got so acquainted with it that he could easily reproduce it in his mind eye when he didn’t have the opportunity to take a look at the original which now had some serious scratches right in the middle where it used to be folded to fit into the chest pocket of his uniform.

He let his eyes run over the image and fix on you. It took some convincing to get you to take part as you kept insisting that you didn’t wish to ruin a family portrait. He vaguely remembered that in the end you had made two shots, but the one without you, weirdly enough, had never come to see the light of day. He was glad it hadn’t; he wouldn’t have asked for a picture to take with him, yet he had wanted to have it as something to remember you by. A family photo was a safe, convenient option. It was a nice one as well. You looked off guard and excited, even though your eyes were cast slightly to the side as if there was something worth your undivided attention behind the camera.

He poured himself a glass of whiskey and, after downing it in one gulp, leaned back in his chair, locking his fingers over his ribs. The photo kept staring at him from where he had placed it on the table a few moments before. Its silent demand was unsettling.

Staring into space, he saw the things that had happened intertwine with those that could have. He remembered watching you prep chicken hearts to be cooked as you were standing in front of the kitchen sink while he was sitting at the table, wondering if it was the right time to break the news to you. The boys and he got their call-ups that morning, and sooner or later you were going to find out. You knew it was coming. Everybody did. Didn’t make it easier, though. He knew there was nothing he could do, but the idea of leaving Polly, Ada and you behind and alone didn’t sit right with him.

You turned your head to him, flashing him a smile that meant that you had made a witty comment you’d like him to appreciate, but it was lost on him shamefully for, distracted by his thoughts, he hadn’t been listening at the moment. He did his best to cover up his absence of mind and seemed to succeed at that since you returned to doing what you were doing without saying anything or sending a quizzical stare his way. He went back to question whether he should tell you the truth – and not just about the call-up. There was something else on his mind, something he didn’t like to dwell on for too long, scared to figure out what exactly it meant for you or him, but a very real possibility of not seeing you ever again was threatening to upset the apple cart. You squeezed a tiny heart somewhat fierce, forcing out a clot of blood. No, he decided, it was better to let things run its natural course. It would only make you laugh anyway. It was your common reaction to all his advances – some more upfront than the others: knowing him to be quite fond of ladies in general, you didn’t take them at face value. He did like to hear you laugh, however not when it was directed at him. So he didn’t say anything – for his ego’s sake.

Nor did he mention any of that later, when all you female lot were seeing them off at the station. With all the people gathered together – talking, hugging, crying, wishing to seize the last seconds with their loved ones, – the process became quite an ordeal. He anticipated a deafening whistle of an incoming train with apprehension – you all did, he could guess, but tried not to let it show.

He looked over his shoulder, wondering what was taking John so long. With Martha had given birth recently and therefore not being able to accompany you to the station, John had said that he would catch up with you later, after bidding farewell to his family. Arthur reckoned they didn’t have long before departure, so John boy had better hurry up if he didn’t wish to straggle before he had even got to his unit. As they exchanged concerned glances, the look on Tommy’s face told him that he was thinking something along those lines as well.

Ever so cheerful, John had run onto the platform right before the train arrived, earning pats on his neck and shoulders from his brothers and an encouraging smile from Polly. With a huge cloud of white steam surrounding the locomotive, it stopped right there, giving out a dissatisfied puff. The arrival of the train threw the station into disarray as everyone felt time slipping through their fingers with an incredible velocity.

After hugs and kisses on the cheeks from Polly and Ada, he, at last, came face to face with you. It was the time to say goodbye, but he didn’t feel like it – it seemed wrong somehow. So instead he said:

“We’ll be home before Christmas. You won’t even miss us.”

“Actually, I’ve been planning on getting some rest from the lot of you, so don’t count on me weeping in the corner,” you replied with a cheeky grin.

You were quite good at faking it, putting on a brave face, but your demeanour changed within a second as you threw your arms around his neck, burying your head into his chest. He hugged you tightly and kissed you on the top of the head, the scent of your hair making his heart pound faster. It could be a perfect moment, but perfection wasn’t what life had in store for him. He had to let you go.

“Before Christmas?” You looked up at him with wide eyes – hoping, demanding. You had moved away a bit, but your hands lingered on the back of his neck.

“Before Christmas,” he confirmed, feeling shivers up and down his spine. “I promise.”

“Good,” you nodded. You didn’t tell you were going to wait. It was unnecessary, yet a part of him hoped you would. He didn’t ask.

“All right, boys,” you both heard Polly say in a voice that sounded untypically unsteady, “come on now. Off you go. The bloody train is almost leaving.”

A moment later the six of you were wrapped in a huge, awkward embrace. Then they boarded the train, which, with a puff of steam and a loud whistle, chugged out of the station, and were gone.

After that, when the times came when Arthur thought he just might not make it, he reminded himself that he had a promise to keep. And so, he stubbornly marched on as the war had become far more prolonged than anyone could have anticipated.

It was a frosty, gray day in late November, 1918, when he finally walked through the wicket gate to the house you used to live in at the time, not having yet moved away to smaller lodgings – later you confessed that your old house felt too big and empty with you as the only resident; it was needless to say that it also brought back too many memories now tainted with grief and loss. The boys and he had arrived just that morning – they were among the lucky ones who had been demobilised right after the armistice; some of the troops were still waiting for orders and transports, and a part of the forces were stuck in Russia with still no end in sight. While Tommy and John headed straight home, he decided to pay you a quick, surprise visit. Despite the ever-present feeling of being cold, tired and hungry, which was taking its time to subside before it could vanish completely, his head was buzzing with excitement that was typical of those who had been deprived of sleep for far too long and overall resembled the kind of psychotic state which prevailed in the trenches while going over the top.

You were coming out of the back yard with a pile of logs for firewood in your arms when the creak of the gate announced his presence, prompting you to cast a startled glance in his direction, the sight stopping you dead in your tracks. You didn’t move, and the lack of expression on your blank face scared him for a minute. Had he caught you off guard? Were you angry? Had he changed so much you didn’t recognise him? It had been long since he took a good look at himself in the mirror. And who was to say you hadn’t changed as well? Suddenly he felt desperate to find some kind of reassurance that you hadn’t drifted apart, that, despite everything, you hadn’t become merely strangers who were only bound together by the long-forgotten memories of the distant past.

After what seemed like an eternity, a radiant smile lit up your face, and he heard the logs tumble down with a series of heavy thuds as you dumped them to the ground; having regained the control of your faculties, you ran up to him and jumped into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck just like you did back then at the station as his own encircled your tinier frame.

“You’re back,” you whispered somewhere below his ear, and, for the first time in a long while, he smiled genuinely as the realisation that he was home at last dawned on him suddenly and without a warning.

“We are,” he said, tightening his grip on you, although there was still a tiny bit of doubt at the back of his mind. “All of us. We’re back.” It sounded too good to be true. Maybe he was really dead, but then again, it was quite unlikely that he would end up in heaven, thus he didn’t have a plausible enough explanation for you being there. “Told you we’ll get home before Christmas.”

At that, a soft choked sob escaped from your lips.

“You took your bloody time all right,” you mumbled grumpily, which turned his smile into a full-blown grin. It was real. He was back.

Lifting you off the ground, he twirled you around, and as you threw your head back with laughter, only then did he realise how much he had missed the sound of it. Now he wouldn’t even mind if you laughed at him as long as he was there to hear it. He felt you tremble slightly in his arms, and for a second he thought that you might be crying, but when you looked at him, there were no tear traces down your cheeks and your eyes were shining brightly.

“That’s something new.” You pointed at his moustache, with a smirk. “Took me a minute to realise it was you underneath.”

“It grows on you after a while.” He chuckled lowly, shaking his head. “But you did look like you’d seen a ghost.”

“That was what I thought, too,” you said as your face darkened and your brows knitted together in a frown of concern. “It’s been four years, Arthur.”

Four years of stab wounds, gunshots, gas attacks, trench fever, madness, starvation. Betting on when the enemy attacked, dreaming about home, slowly forgetting what life was like before, trying to make up for lost time, spending his leaves drinking with women of easy virtue, wondering whether he was the next who wouldn’t come out of the trench by the end of the shelling. Four lifetimes.  

“Yeah, I know.”

You silently searched his face for a moment before he noticed a sudden thought flash through your mind; it was in your eyes – like a match had been lit in the dark. Crumpling the ends of your sleeves by pulling them down over your hands, you sent him a small, almost apologetic smile.

“Oh Arthur,” you said warmly. “Happy birthday.”

He simply stared at you, not comprehending, and could only guess that he looked totally bewildered. Was it really today? He didn’t remember; things like that didn’t matter when one was either glad to see the light of the following day or wished to die and put an end to it all. But he wasn’t there anymore, was he? He was back to the world where life wasn’t reduced to mere survival. It felt strange and, honestly, so overwhelming he could easily get lost in the emotion.

The soft touch of your lips to his cheek brought him back to reality. His old feelings washed over him like a tidal wave, but he knew if he brought it up right now, you would just think that he got too excited, too caught up in the moment. So he gave your arms a gentle squeeze of appreciation and moved to help you with that firewood. As usual, he let his actions, rather than words, speak for themselves. Maybe one day you would see them for what they were. But if you didn’t, well, it would be fine too.

Now, reflecting on it a year later, he reckoned he must have been doing something wrong all along. He did keep his promise in the end, although, with a four-year delay, it felt more like he didn’t. You hadn’t mention it in your letters, but he knew he had disappointed you and only hoped that you would understand that John needed to come back home more than any of them, so that was why they would have sent him in their place whenever the opportunity presented itself, which wasn’t very often per se.

He had intended to make it up to you when he was back, but then there were women, drinking, and the Peaky Blinders business. He had never been so much contemplating as living in the moment, and the need to feel became even more intense ever since he had got back from the war. Though things were steadily improving in terms of prosperity, he was slowly discovering the parts of himself he wasn’t sure how to control. Trying to blot out the waste of the past, he got caught up in things in the present. Once again, he failed you. And though Tommy insisted that he had made it easy for Arthur by taking all the strategic thinking upon himself, even his mastermind brother couldn’t help him out of that particular one.

That was part of the reason why he had offered you a half of the pub. He seemed to have finally found a way to give you the kind of stability you needed that you might actually accept without putting up too much of a fight for your freedom. So there was that, and also the fact that the idea of having you as a partner appealed to him: you were smart and good with numbers, he trusted you and liked keeping you close, having been looking out for you since he could remember.

Everything seemed to be falling into place, except for that one time you almost kissed him. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but he could swear you almost did. It was the ‘almost’ part that bugged him, that stared at him from that photograph, daring him to finally do something about it.

To shake off a creeping feeling of spineless impotence, he stood up and poured himself another glass of whiskey, savouring its smoky, peated taste.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” John, merry as always, barged into the room, finally having noticed his brother’s long-drawn absence. He leaned on the door, letting in a babble of noise from the packed hall of the pub. “Honestly, like a fucking recluse. What the hell, we’ve done our bloody part, now come on and fucking celebrate.” He then gave Arthur a suspicious look; his eyes had a slight squint to them already. “It’s not the blues again, is it?”

“No,” Arthur said, licking the last drops of whiskey off his lips. “It’s not the blues. I’ll be out in a minute.”

John shrugged, seemingly set at rest by his brother’s reassurances, and went back to the hall, leaving the door halfway open. If there was something else on his mind, he didn’t bother to share it.

Putting the glass back on the desk, Arthur ran his hands through his hair to smooth it, then put the photo back in the drawer without as much as a second glance.

“I’m a living man,” he murmured, exhaling deeply. It was partially an excuse he saved for the times he felt like reproving himself for being fickle; it was also a reminder.

He flung the door open and strode into the crowded hall, his spirit immediately revived by its vibrant, raucous energy.

“All right, boys, the next round is on the house! Let’s fucking celebrate!”

△ ▽

The gray sky and a constant, thick drizzle did little to cheer up Arthur, whose head was foggy after last night’s partying activities. He didn’t remember much of it but had a pretty good guess how it went. How it always went. He snuffled and put the collar of his coat up to prevent cold water drops from travelling down his neck and spine. He didn’t like rain; it made everything bleak, sad and lifeless – much like he felt on the inside on his worst days. Witnessing the same on the outside seemed like overkill, which, for an Englishman, was quite a predicament.

When he reached his destination, he suddenly became self-conscious about his decision. Coming under the roof to hide from the rain, he stopped on the porch to think it over for what seemed like a hundredth time only that morning. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to spring it on you after all those years of silence. He couldn’t say he didn’t appreciate the way things were between you now. He didn’t want to disrupt the balance. To say he didn’t wish to know what it could be like, however, would be, at best, a half-truth. Maybe he needed to wait until his head was clear to have this conversation, but then again, he couldn’t remember the last time it truly was.

“No time like the present,” he muttered under his breath ironically, mimicking Polly’s tone, and reached for the door. When you didn’t answer right away, he felt like a condemned to death whose execution was delayed in a twisted manifestation of mercy. On the other hand, a more rational part of him knew he probably wouldn’t be able to go on like this for too long. He needed to know where you stand. Now more than ever, he needed clarity. He needed answers.

He knocked louder, his hand left hanging in the air in a mid-knock, as the door swung open, revealing a somewhat frustrated you.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realise it was you.” The corners of your mouth turned upwards slightly; otherwise, you looked preoccupied and displeased by the interruption. He wondered if it indeed was not the right time after all. “Come on in,” you invited, stepping away to give him some space, shutting the door behind him as he entered. “Nice battle scar.” You imitated a cut with a gesture, sweeping your eyes over him scrutinizingly. “Ever considered healing properly before getting new ones?”

He laughed lowly, his hand flew to his face unconsciously to trace it; it reminded him of the way you did it the other day, the light touch of your fingers to his skin.

“Just a scratch from the Lee boys, luv.” The thought of yesterday’s success at the races brought a triumphant smirk to his lips as he shook his cap and took off his damp coat before putting them onto the coat stand. “You should see the other guy.”

“That’s what you always say.” You chuckled, compressing your lips. “So I take it, your war is in full spate then.”

“They got what had been coming for them for a long time.” He shrugged absent-mindedly. “For a long fucking time… Wait.” Coming further inside, he sniffed the air to confirm his suspicion, his voice echoing slightly off the walls. “Are you fucking baking? What the hell has happened?”

However innocent a task it may seem, baking never was a good sign with you. You said it helped you to find peace of mind, but since you weren’t fond of wasting food, you turned to it only when pushed too far, so whatever it was, it must have stressed you out a great deal.

“Nothing,” you said as you tried to shrug it off. “I just was in the mood.”

Your nonchalant tone didn’t make him buy into it, though.

“You’re never just in the mood for baking,” he pointed out, turning round to face you, “because you fucking hate it. The only reason you do it is so that you can pretend that you crack, beat and cut the person who wronged you.”

You blinked, with your lips parted.

“I hate it that you know enough about baking to be able to come up with the analogy,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I even more hate that you know enough about me…”

“Don’t evade the fucking question.”

The more you danced around it, the more he didn’t like what he was eventually going to hear. This was definitely not the way he had imagined things would go today, but it sure as hell was a damn good distraction from a steadily growing pounding in his head and ears.

“All right,” you gave in, with a huff and an eye-roll. “Will you at least sit down?”

He plumped himself down on the couch, staring at you expectantly to let you know you weren’t getting out of it easily. You stared right back at him and took a seat on the chair as if trying to keep your distance. Then you drew a long, deep breath before lighting up a cigarette and heavily drawing on it instead.

“Just fucking spill it already,” he growled, tapping his foot impatiently against the carpeted floor. There were plenty of possible scenarios in his head, and he didn’t like any of them, so he guessed that the truth couldn’t possibly be any worse than his imagination.

He checked his pockets for a smoke but, with a grunt, remembered that he had left it in his coat. You lightly pushed your cigarette case towards him across the table with a box of matches on the top of it and leaned forward, elbows on your knees, eyes cast down.

“It’s your sister.” And there was the shell. “I think I may have put her and Freddie in danger. I didn’t mean to, obviously-”

His hand was frozen in half-motion until the flames moved further from the head of the match and licked his fingers; then he put it out and took a drag of the cigarette.

“You saw Ada?” He tried to keep his voice devoid of emotion as well as he could but it wasn’t his strongest hand to play. You knew how much it meant to him, yet hadn’t told him nonetheless. You were hiding things from him – just like everybody else. He couldn’t help feeling that you had betrayed him.

You raised your eyes but not your head; the look you gave him from under your brows was both sympathetic and disapproving, and he wondered how on earth you even managed to do that.  

“Yes. But whatever you have to say, you can save it for later because this is really not what you should be worried about right now.”

“And what is?” he enquired rather sardonically. Whatever danger you were speaking about, he surely could deal with it better than with the fact that you were keeping him in the dark. Granted, he was doing the same, but that was about business, not family. There lay the difference, and he thought you knew it. Apparently, he was wrong.

You straightened up in your seat, letting out a plume of smoke from your lungs as you tapped ashes from the cigarette into the ashtray on the table.

“I had a nice, little chat with the inspector afterwards,” you said without so much as a sideway glance at him. “He made it rather clear that he’s not letting any of us off the hook any time in the near future.”

“You talked to that copper again?” Arthur could feel the anger swelling up and beginning to throb through his veins. He needed a drink or two – or maybe seven or eight. He also needed to punch something, but settled for stabbing his cigarette out in the ashtray for the time being.

You shot him a defiant glare.

“It’s not like I was dying to have that conversation. Or this one for that matter.” You breathed out in frustration, trying to calm yourself, but it was only partially successful. “The point is, he made it sound like he might have had me followed, and if it’s the case, then he now knows where the Thornes live, and I’m too paranoid to warn them.” You laughed all of a sudden, shaking your head defeatedly, and for a moment he thought that maybe you had been worrying so much you went a bit mental. “And I’ve been accusing Freddie of being overly suspicious. Fuck, this is twisted.”

“All right,” he said, running his hands through his hair to collect his thoughts, although nothing seemed to be ‘right’ about this situation. “So you’re saying that we need to pass along a message to them. That can be done. All I need is the address, so we can send the boys round-”

“No.”

He jerked up his head, giving you a blank stare.

“The fuck does that mean?”

“It means a fucking no,” you snapped. “I’m not telling you the address. Your sister doesn’t want you or any Peaky boys anywhere near her family – for now, at least.”

Her family? You couldn’t possibly be serious. He was barely holding himself together as it was, and you were really pushing it.

“But she’s all right with coppers, aye? Is that it?” he snarled, clenching and unclenching his fists, clasping hands together.

Inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, you regained your composure to speak as calmly and reasonably as you could.

“It isn’t. That’s why you’re going to ask Polly to see to it. She’ll know what to do. Just… no muscling your way through is all I ask. It will mess up an already messed up situation.”

Then you both sat there, and while he was contemplating your words, the only thing moving was the dancing smoke from your dying cigarette and the only sound heard was the shallow breathing.

“If you’d, for once, just fucking listened…” His voice was muffled by the hands covering his face; he had already accepted his defeat and was now just venting out his irritation. “How many times have I told you not to get mixed up in the Blinders business?” He peeked at you from behind his fingers when you didn’t answer, then removed the hands altogether, staring at you reproachfully. “How many?”

“Yeah, you were very explicit on multiple occasions,” you replied distractedly, pushing the ashes in the ashtray around with the stub. “You, Tommy, everyone. Every fucking man thinks he knows better, be he the thickest-” You broke off abruptly, jerking up your head in sudden alarm. “Fuck! It’s burning!”

You darted out of the room and into the kitchen, hoping to save what still was possible to save, nearly getting burnt yourself in a rush while taking the baking tray out of the oven.

“Fuck it,” you breathed out repeatedly, dropping the tray on the top of the cooker with a loud clang, and slapped your forehead. “I fucking hate baking.”  

Arthur, who followed you to the kitchen after you had sped off in evident panic, was now leaning against the door frame silently; he would not ever admit it, but watching you, usually so tough, and fierce, and collected, being thrown in distress by simple domestic chores was rather amusing.

“Looks not that bad,” he said, fighting hard to suppress a laugh, while you were picking out biscuits that hadn’t been spoiled completely.

“Shut up or I’ll have you eat all of them,” you warned him, jerking your hand off of a particularly hot one with a hiss of pain. The best idea probably was to wait till they got cold, but he was not about to give you this piece of advice, considering your belligerent mood. He did not, in fact, wish to taste any of your angry baking creations. He was not that suicidal.

He was, however, genuinely willing to make you feel better.

“Well, on the bright side, you’ve just fried that copper.” He pointed at the tray with loads of burnt biscuits on it, smiling mischievously. “So be a little prouder, will ya?”

“I’ve wasted a whole lot of food, is all I’ve done,” you grumbled irritably, dusting the crumbs from your hands. You looked at him, then at the mess on the tray, then at him again – and laughed out loud, the stress and the tension washing away bit by bit. “You really got carried away with that thing, you know.” You shook your head and then slightly bit your lip in deliberation. “Is it awful that I actually like to imagine that it’s him?”

“I doubt I’m the one you should ask.” He chuckled, coming over, poking at the biscuits which looked more like coals, out of childish curiosity. “Because when it comes to family, well… I don’t think it’s awful. I think it just means you care.”

You tilted your head in a way that reminded him of a confused puppy, but there was understanding in your eyes – understanding and regret.

“I don’t like that it should be like this,” you said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “But I gave my word that I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Yeah, well, you’re good for keeping it then.” Granted, he was aggrieved by the fact, but he supposed he still owed you one for making a promise he couldn’t keep.

You sent him a funny look as if to check that those words had really just come out of his mouth, but whatever you saw must have put your mind at ease.

“She’s doing fine, you know,” you said as though you’d read his thoughts. “Worrying a lot. About all of you, Freddie, this thing between Tommy and him… But yeah, pretty much fine nonetheless.”

For a moment, there was silence.

“Is she… Will she be happy?” He hadn’t thought he’d ask that. For someone living in the moment, happiness was a short-term illusion; it was fleeting, passing, temporary, and not something to hold on to. It was right there and then, not many years from now. It simply was or it wasn’t. Period.

If you were surprised by the question, you didn’t let it show.

“Well, there’s a lot at risk, but with any luck, she’ll be as happy as she could ever be. Which, I guess, is the Shelby version of a happy ending.” You smiled, the comment made you both chuckle. Then your expression changed as you cast down your eyes, eyebrows furrowing in concern. “I just hope to God I’m not going to be the reason it never happens.”

“Hey,” he said softly, placing a hand on your shoulder, which, in turn, prompted you to look up. “It’ll be fine. Aye? I’ll talk to Polly. She’ll talk to Ada. And after all the fucking talking is done, everyone can be as bloody happy as they fucking want to.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help cracking a smile.

“And what about the copper?” You were definitely worrying too much, still unable to let it go.

“What about him?” He shot the question right back at you in the most nonchalant tone possible. Now that game he knew the rules of. “I say we deal with him the same way we always do.” He smirked. “Don’t you worry, luv, Tommy’s got a plan.”

“Yeah, because they always work out so well,” you muttered under your breath, but he could feel your posture relax. They were the magic words, he had eventually come to understand. ’Tommy’s got a plan.’

But Tommy wasn’t the only one who thought of the future. Arthur did too; he just didn’t have plans for it. Maybe it was time for him to make one.

Everyone can be happy. Yeah, well. Why the hell not? They were the Peaky fucking Blinders, and they were not scared of coppers.

Whatever the future might bring, they’d sure as hell seen worse.

TAGS (OPEN): @crldrr

(gif credit: @daniels-gillies)

[agentargus]

//Ages back, @spookylilmoonpie asked for more information about Dante and Murmur. Started on some lore but I’ll post a small part of it here now:

Audio transcribed and translated from the Italian (with exceptions where necessary) by [REDACTED]. Timestamp states place the recording took place at 3:33 PM on the 10th of January [DATE REDACTED]

“This is Father Dominic Lawrence, acting chaplain of the St. Olympius Residential School , documenting on behalf of Repubblica Dei Lupi. The day is the tenth of January, Feast of St. Peter Orseolo. Optional Christmas vacation ended one week prior to this day. As the students of St. Olympius have returned to school for spring sememster, they have begun reporting strange happenings—well, stranger than usual—concerning two students enrolled on the fourth of December, Feast of St. Giovanni Calabria. The following interview is to be conducted with the older brother. Mother Superior currently records her questioning of the younger sister in the parish hall...”

Transcriber’s note: Father Lawrence now opens the door, the creaking of which can be heard on the original recording.

Good afternoon, son.”

“Good afternoon, Father Lawrence.”

“Please sit down and help yourself to the cookies.”

“Thank you.”

“What is your name, son?”

“Dante Feliciano Argenti.”

“And how old are you.”

“I don’t know. Mother says I’m roughly three years older than Giu-Giu—my sister, but Mother doesn’t like talking about it.”

“How old do you think you are.”

“Most of the people in my class are fourteen or fifteen—except Estella. She just turned 3049 years old yesterday. I told her she didn’t look a day over 2000, but I don’t think she understood that I was joking...”

“Sister Madalberta claims you’ve been sleepwalking.”

“If I have, I don’t remember.”

“Then you don’t remember the things you said to little Francesco?”

“That he could have my marbles because I’d already lost them in the figurative sense?”

“No, though that was very kind of you and he’s very thankful. I mean when he found you sleepwalking out of the dormitory and tried to wake you up...Dante, you told him that a thousand centipedes waited for him in hell, that they would crawl beneath his eyelids while he slept and...”

“I didn’t say that! I promise, I didn’t say that. Centipedes wouldn’t even go to hell anyway, they’re perfectly nice creatures...”

“Yes, the boy was quite sure that it wasn’t you, even if the words came out of your mouth. Didn’t have your energy, he said. You know he’s an empath, yes?”

“Is that like a psychic?”

“Sort of...”

“I really should apologize to him, if only for the bad things he’s probably seen in my head.”

“Tell me about the bad things in your head...”

“I don’t think you really want to hear them, Father. Mother says I think exactly the way she expects from a teenage boy...”

“You’re probably right, let me rephrase: tell me about the bad thing in your head that isn’t you. Tell me about the thing that hurt your mother.”

“Why would you want to know about him? I’d call him a turd, but I don’t hate toilets so much that I would force him upon them.”

“Have another cookie, Dante.”

“Thank you. Mother never let me have seconds.”

“Why do you hate him?”

“Because hurt my mother, obviously. He would have hurt my sister if he’d had the chance...”

“Did he ever speak to you?”

“Only in my nightmares...can I go now? Please?”

“Did he pretend to be your friend.”

“No, he pretended to be me...”

“What do you mean?”

“I grew up in a haunted mental institution, Father. I would like to think I’m well-versed in the difference between the voices that exist within one’s own mind and those that belong to outside forces, between madness and malus, if you will...”

“...but...”

“...There were no voices in my head at all, at least, none I could distinguish from my own thoughts. Do I have to talk about this?”

“Just explain a little more...”

“I had bad thoughts. I still do. Everyone does, I think. I want to think it’s normal. Sometimes, I’d have very vivid night terrors where I...where acted on those bad thoughts. I wanted to be good, I couldn’t be good all the time, but I tried. Every bad thought would be locked away somewhere, and my nightmares would feed on them, the way eating soy beans or chicken can feed a growing tumor with the hormones but are harmless if you don’t have a tumor. I think I was fighting myself too hard to realize that I was also fighting something else.”

“The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.”

“Yes, exactly. I thought it was just my guilty conscience and nothing more, which made me feel all the more helpless to fight back. Guilt isn’t productive, Signore Pantalone told me when he rescued Giu-Giu and me. It traps you so that you become convinced you can’t do better, and if you think you can’t do better, you don’t. I think the bad thing that lives inside me was waiting until I stopped trying to do better, until I couldn’t tell the difference between my nightmares and reality...and now, I guess he can’t tell the difference either if he wakes up when I’m asleep.”

“How would you feel if I put you to sleep so that I could talk to him?”

“I thought you were maybe trying to put me to sleep right now, but sedatives don’t work on me. Why else do you think I’ve been eating the cookies even though I’m pretty sure you drugged them?”

“You’re a smart boy.”

“Thank you. You didn’t have to lie to me, you know. Bearing false witness is a sin, father.”

“I never lied to you, son...”

“A sin of omission is still a sin. You think I’m stupid. Everyone thinks I’m stupid. I was trying to be polite, but trying just made me look like an idiot...”

“I didn’t drug the cookies, Dante. I’m telling you the truth. I didn’t want to put you to sleep, I wanted to make you angry, because being angry makes you feel guilty, and when you feel guilty, you want to disappear...”

“And nothing can stop me...”

*muffled static*

Transcriber’s note: at this moment, the radio in Father Dominic’s office appears to have been switched on. The song “Duke of Earl” by Gene Chandler plays in the background of the following conversation:

“˙˙˙lɹƎ ɟo ǝʞnD ǝʞnD ǝʞnD lɹƎ ɟo ǝʞnD ǝʞnD ǝʞnD”

“Dante?”

“Dante’s inferno...”

“Who are you?”

“Siehst, Vater, du den Erlkönig nicht? Den Erlenkönig mit Kron' und Schweif?"

“Excuse me?”

“I’m the Duke of Erl, I sing, come and I’ll show you the Erl King.”

“What is your purpose?”

“I’m gonna love you ¿sɹǝʌoɔ ɹnoʎ ɹǝpun ɹǝɥ ɟo ʞuᴉɥʇ noʎ ʍouʞ poƃ ɹnoʎ sǝoD ¿ɹǝɥʇɐɟ 'ɹǝɥ ǝʌol noʎ ʍouʞ ǝɥs sǝoD ‘cause I’m the Duke of Erl.”

“Why are you here?”

“It’s nighttime. Time to sing a lullaby.”

“Why didn’t you manifest sooner?”

“I’m always there when good little boys are sleeping. Are you thinking of Sister Claire while you’re sleeping? Mich reizt deine schöne Gestalt. Und bist du nicht willig, so brauch' ich Gewalt. Come on, let me hold you, darlin’...”

Transcriber’s note: According to Father Lawrence, this lull in the conversation occurs when he unplugs the radio, though the song keeps playing.

“Why did you manifest when he was awake?”

“ʞɐǝʍllᴉʇssǝɥsǝlᴉɥʍǝʇuɐpʎqɐqǝɥʇllᴉʞ ˙ǝʇuɐp 'ʎqɐq ǝɥʇ ǝʇɐɥ ʇ’uop 'ǝʇuɐp 'ʎqɐq ǝɥʇ ǝʞɐʍ ʇ’uop ˙ʎqɐq ǝɥʇ ǝʞɐʍ ʇ’uop sʎɐs ɹǝɥʇoW. Dante says don’t wake the baby, mother, don’t hurt the baby mother, don’t hurt the baby. In seinen Armen das Kind war tot...”

“Tell me your name.”

“I’m the lɹƎ ɟo ǝʞnD ǝʞnD ǝʞnD lɹƎ ɟo ǝʞnD ǝʞnD ǝʞnDoh yeah yeah yeah yeah...”

“I-in the name of the Father, I command you, tell me your name...”

“Aaaaaaa-I’m the lord of the night, master those spirits who cannot rest, Duke and earl and duke and earl and...”

“In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy S-Spirit, I command you, tell me your name.”

“...Murmurmurmurmurmurder you in your sleep, while you’ve got your pants down and you’re thinking of Sister Claire...”

“Shut up!”

“That wasn’t very nice, Father. Have you been a bad boy? Good little boys must go to bed. Bad little boys must stay there. Never waking up again. In his arms, the child lay dead...”

“In Jesus’s name, once more, your name.”

“No.”

“Your name...”

“No.”

[several seconds of unintelligible static]

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven...”[more static] “The power of Christ compels you, tell me your name!”

“...Murmur.”

“Murmur, go back to hell.”

“Already there. Nothing can stop me...”

“I command you, in Jesus’s name, go back!”

“Dante’s inferno. Dante’s hell. Don’t hurt the baby, mother! Over and over again...”

“Go back!”

“Hell is home. Dante is home. Dante is hell. Can’t kill the baby, it’s okay to hurt the baby, Dante, she won’t die.”

“Go back!”

“People who cannot die cannot go to hell. People who cannot die are already in hell. Hell is where the the good little boys go to bed.”

“Murmur, I command you, go back to hell!”

“Daylight is fire. Fire is hell. It’s nighttime. Dante is daylight. Daylight is hell. I am in hell. We’ll walk through my dukedom and a paradise we’ll share...”

“The sun is rising, Murmur, go back to sleep...”

“Duke Duke Duke Duke of Erl Duke Duke Duke of Erl Duke...is everything alright, Father? You look like you’ve seen a ghost...literally.”

Transcriber’s note: the recording ends here.

[akaluan]

Dragon Eclipse: Christmas Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | ???

((Yeah idk. Maybe I’ll finish this before this xmas, whoops. Uhh... so I tried to write from Chad’s pov and welp everything ever so this scene is probably just as good from anyone else’s, idk it fought be the whole way until like the last half when everyone decided to start teasing Kaito.))

“Alright, food!”

Chad looked up from his new book at Jinta’s shout, then blinked at the sight of Tsukabishi carrying a large platter stacked with fried chicken. Chad leaned forward to help clear off a spot on the table, bemused at the idea of Shinigami following such a silly ‘tradition’ /and/ at the others around him who simply /accepted/ it as a given.

(He’d been in Japan for a few years, and every year he shook his head in disbelief at the ‘tradition’ of fried chicken for Christmas. It was just… unbelievable at times.)

Tsukabishi set out plates for all of them, then brought out stacks of glasses and two pitchers of drink for them to share. Table set, he sat down and gestured towards the platter. “Dig in. There’s more in the back in we run out.”

“Thanks!” Jinta cheered as he leaned in and snatched a few pieces up.

Everyone else followed suit, and Chad set about pouring drinks and passing them to the others.

Once everyone was settled and had a chance to begin eating, Urahara looked around the table and asked, “So, after we eat, how about a game? We’ll either need to split into teams to play, or—”

“We could play Munchkin!” Kaito’s Shiro broke in, leaning forward and grinning sharply. “We got nuff kits t’all play at once.”

Urahara covered his mouth with his fan and laughed cheerfully. “Any objections?”

“Munchkin?” Inoue asked curiously, looking at Shiro.

Chad looked up as well, curious what sort of game could interest Shiro so greatly. He knew the spirit was interested in video games, but he’d not realized Shiro’s interest extended to board or card games, whatever Munchkin actually was.

“S’a card game,” Shiro responded with excitement, amber eyes bright. “We all get ta be ‘venturers who’re lootin’ a dungeon! We get ta fight monsters an’ get loot an’ th’first ones t’level ten win.”

Kaito edged forward to reclaim a bit of front, reiatsu shading towards amusement as he clarified, “It’s both a competitive and cooperative game, depends on how you want to play it. You can choose to help other players out, or you can choose to screw them over by making combat more difficult, or playing curses or traps on them.”

“No wonder Shiro likes it,” Ichigo said, then cocked his head to one side, gaze going unfocused for a moment. “White says it sounds like fun, aaaaand now he’s sulking that we’re not as good as you about our control.”

“You’ll get it eventually. Every bit of practice helps, even something like this,” Kaito said with a fond smile. He tapped his chest, then gestured towards his eyes, which were a mix of amber and grey-green. “We weren’t always this good, either.”

“Tch.” Ichigo shook his head, but the small patches of gold in his irises and the way the whites of his eyes were turning a pale grey spoke enough in his stead.

“Kaito-kun, if you’d go fetch the decks, then?” Urahara asked, setting aside his plate and cleaning off his hands. “Remember to bring the rule sheets, too!”

“Aww, do we gotta?” Shiro playfully whined as he stood. “They can jes make shit up! It’s more fun tha’ way.”

“No.” Kaito shook his head. “They get the same starting point as /we/ did when we first played.” He looked over at his father, head tilted in curiosity, then tapped his chest and asked, “Are we playing as a whole, teams, or individuals this time?”

Chad looked up at Kaito, taking in the teen’s multi-colored eyes, and had to wonder what playing as an individual even meant. Were they capable of cutting each other off completely, or had they settled on some sort of compromise for games like this?

Given the way they flowed between one another without worry within the Shoten, it was… hard for him to imagine only one of them having control. Not, at least, without something /terrible/ having occurred.

(Even in the beginning, there had always been hints of the others shining through Kaito’s facade.)

“Mmmmm.” Urahara fiddled with his fan, gaze sweeping over the group before settling back on Kaito. “Two teams this time, I think. However you want to divide that.”

“I pick Zan!” Shiro announced gleefully.

Kaito groaned and rubbed at the bridge of their nose. He gave Urahara an absent wave and turned to retreat into the shoten to fetch the game, muttering aloud, “I fucking hate you. Why do you /always/ do this, I swear to kami, Shiro—”

“What..?” Inoue asked in confusion once Kaito had left, glancing between all of them.

Chad shrugged at her look, unsure as well.

“Shiro likes to team up with Zangetsu,” Arisawa answered. She stretched and set her plate aside, accepting a napkin from Ichigo with a nod and a thank you, then continued, “Calls him an ‘evil genius’ and keeps saying he wants to learn from the best.”

“That seems…” Ichigo hesitated, gaze shifting to the side and expression shading towards amusement. Whatever his own spirits were saying clearly amused him. “Absolutely terrifying.”

“What’s terrifying now?” Kaito asked. He dropped the stack of boxes on the table next to Urahara, then sat down in his spot again and reached for another piece of chicken.

“Shiro learning from an evil genius,” Ichigo answered.

Kaito laughed. “You /do/ realize who you’re talking to, right?”

“Yeah,” Arisawa agreed, looking pointedly between Kaito and his father. “/All/ of them are learning from an evil genius. Do you guys even know half the shit they get up to together?”

“Nope, and I’d rather not,” Ichigo said, snagging a few more pieces of chicken for himself and his sisters. “/You’re/ the only one of us that braves his evil lair.”

“Wh— I don’t have an /evil lair/!” Kaito sputtered.

Arisawa snorted. “No, but your dad does. /And/ he lets you use it.”

Kaito leaned back and grabbed some wrapping paper, crumpling it into a ball and flicking it at Arisawa. She swatted it aside and retaliated with her own ball, even as Karin yelped in protest as the first one hit her.

Chad smiled faintly and began to quietly turn the wrapping paper around him into ammunition. He knew exactly where this was going to end up, and he wasn’t going to be caught flat-footed.

“You are all /ridiculous/,” Ishida grumbled, leaning away from Kaito as both Arisawa /and/ Karin attempted to pelt Kaito with balls of wrapping paper.

“Says the person who wears a mantle,” Kaito said, flicking one of the balls at Ishida in retaliation.

Ishida caught the ball and glowered at Kaito. “/Firstly/, I have seen your bankai, and a sleeveless, open haori is /just as ridiculous/. And /secondly/, /you/ used to wear a mantle too, so get off that high horse or I’ll bribe Shiro to take you down.”

“Wh— conspiring with my own spirits against me!”

Shiro surged to the fore, absently batting a couple of balls aside, and asked eagerly, “Whatcha got fer me, cub?”

Ishida rolled his eyes at the nickname like he always did. “We can spend Sunday afternoon playing a video game. Enough of a bribe?”

“A’right!” Shiro cheered. “You betcha, cub!”

“I hate all of you,” Kaito deadpanned, gathering up the balls that were starting to collect around him and eyeing everyone at the table thoughtfully.

Chad leaned back, recognizing that look in Kaito’s eyes, all mischief and cheer like his father about to pull something ridiculous on them. And sure enough, Kaito started to toss his hoard of ammunition at all of them.

The minute balls of wrapping paper started to fly, Chad picked up one of his and flicked it at Ichigo.

“Et tu, Chad?” Ichigo groaned as the projectile hit his shoulder, scowling at the mild look Chad gave him in return. He set aside his plate and snagged a few stray balls. “Fine, prepare to face defeat then!”

“If you think you can,” Chad answered, picking up another ball of wrapping paper and launching it at his friend.

Everything devolved from there, with projectiles flying every which way and the whole group, even the adults, laughing and poking fun at each other. The game was forgotten for the moment, but they had their own game that was just as fun.

[the-kryomancer]

Who's Who in the Shimada-McCree Family

A/N: This is the family for my McHanzo domestic AU, I’m writing it along with a lot of other things. Please ask about the fam. They’re precious.

Hanzo:

The “strict” father.

Goes to all of his kids’ extra curricular activities.

Wakes the kids up for school.

“Yes, Weston. You need to go to school today.”

Is a big softie for Hatsu and Eiji.

Does most of the cooking.

Always worries about the kids when he’s away on missions.

Gives the older kids life advice.

Has all of their awards and certificates in a trophy case or hanging on the wall.

Lowkey brags about his kids.

Loves when his kids ask if they can meditate with him.

Makes the whole family go on yearly trips to Hanamura.

Loves taking the kids on camping trips.

He’s usually the only one actually getting the items on the grocery list.

“No, Jesse. We don’t need… denim scented candles?”

“Weston don’t climb that!!”

“Ana, Dominic. Where’s Eiji and Hatsu?”

Forces Jesse to come to all of the parent-teacher conferences.

Isn’t mad, just disappointed.

Encourages his kids to achieve their dreams.

Has to defuse any and all fights between Dominic and Ana.

Hates when the kids fight with each other.

Jesse:

Let’s his kids get away with just about everything.

Sneaks them candy before dinner.

And after.

Let’s them stay up late.

Even on school nights.

Makes breakfast while Hanzo wakes the kids.

Also makes their lunches.

Bakes a ton of sweets for the school bake sale.

Likes to flirt with the moms on the PTA to mess with Hanzo.

Hates going to parent-teacher conferences.

Probably tried to bribe the teachers to pass his kids at least once.

Isn’t disappointed, just mad.

When he’s away on a mission he calls the house every chance he gets.

“You kiddos okay?”

“Yes, dad. Same as when you called ten minutes ago.”

Best cuddles when it’s cold in the house.

Likes it when the whole family is snuggled up on the couch.

Always let’s any of the kids sleep in bed with him and Hanzo if they can’t get to sleep.

Gets everyone in the family hats and serapes matching his.

Along with the kids, begs Hanzo to let them get a pet.

Teaches the kids how to shoot a gun.

Always takes them to visit Reinpa and Grandma Amari and Grandpa Gabe.

Isn’t allowed to be alone with the younger kids for more than a few hours.

Reinhardt:

The fun grandparent.

“Reinpa” because his name was too hard to pronounce for the little ones.

Teaches Ana, Dominic, and Weston how to speak German.

Loves taking them to visit Germany.

Always bringing them stuff back from his travels.

Is a big teddy bear.

Always has at least one grandchild with him while he’s visiting.

Picks up the kids and puts them on his shoulders.

Let’s them climb him.

“Rein, be careful hE MIGHT FALL”

But seriously, will dote on his grandkids cause he’s a concerned Reinpa.

Highkey brags about them to anyone he meets.

Has pictures of them in his wallet.

Brings them sweets from Germany.

Ana Amari:

She’s the best at getting the kids to behave.

Is always able to get them to bed.

She secretly sleep darts them.

Loves taking Ana and Dominic to Egypt.

Teaches them Arabic if they want.

Cried when she heard her oldest granddaughter was being named Ana.

Loves being with the youngest ones.

Somehow manages to know when one or more of the kids is sick???

Makes the best tea and chicken noodle soup.

Is the go-to babysitter though.

Will drop everything to be with her grandkids.

Goes to every event for the kids.

Lowkey wants to take them home with her.

Teaches Dominic and Ana how to use a sniper rifle.

Goes to all of Dominic’s concerts.

Supports her grandkids.

Is the best grandma.

Genji:

Let’s Hatsu and Eiji play with his dragon.

Speaks to them in Japanese so they know their native tongue better.

Let’s Weston use his sword.

Gets in trouble for letting his nephew use his sword.

Insists he doesn’t have a favorite.

He does.

It’s Weston.

Loves to make them his favorite Japanese meals.

Loves to babysit his nieces and nephews.

Encourages Dominic to choose his own path.

Literally encourages him to rebel against Hanzo.

Is Hatsu and Eiji’s nightlight though.

But the kids refuse to hug him in the winter because he’s so cold.

Except for Hatsu.

She loves cold.

Highkey tried to take one of them home with him one time.

Hanzo and Jesse noticed two hours later that Weston was missing.

He takes them to the arcades all the time though.

Is the best as claw machines.

Wins Hatsu and Eiji whatever they want.

Tried to give Dominic Sake once.

If he heard Dominic or Ana has a date, lowkey follows them.

They still know he was following them.

Is jealous when one of the kids says Hanzo’s cooking is better.

Mercy:

Has known just about all of the kids since birth.

Was the pediatrician for all of them.

Still is for Hatsu and Eiji.

Literally is always doting over Weston.

Calls the house every week to see how Weston’s genetic therapy is going.

Makes sure all of the kids are eating healthy.

Has and will call one of the older kids out on their shit if they make her mad enough.

Is usually fairly patient though.

Gives extremely good advice.

Always gives them Swiss chocolate.

Helps Ana through her female problems since her house is full of males and the only other female is Hatsu who is five.

Sometimes stays the night if Weston is having a problem with his dyslexia and can’t do his homework.

Helps Weston through his low points about himself.

She’s always there to give words of encouragement.

Answers any questions they may have about medicine or treatments if they are sick.

Will stay at the house the entire time one of the kids is sick if she feels she needs to.

“Angela, you don’t need to-”

“Jesse, I am staying. Eiji has the flu, he needs me.”

Loves to take Hatsu and Eiji to the park.

If Ana or Dominic is mad at the other or their parents she lets them stay with her.

Is like the mom for the kids.

But she’s their aunt.

  Soldier 76:

“Grumpa”

Forgets their names half of the time

If he’s babysitting he’s either doing paperwork or sleeping.

Sometimes both.

Calls Weston “Mini McCree”

Fell asleep on the couch once.

He slept on the remote.

Gets Dominic and Weston confused sometimes.

Insists he’s the best grandfather though.

Lost Hatsu and Eiji at the mall once.

Everything is a challenge though.

Don’t let him get Christmas gifts.

He either wraps them in newspaper or doesn’t wrap them at all.

Lowkey loves his grandkids and brags about them to everyone.

Doesn’t let Gabriel or Jesse or Hanzo know he really does love the kids.

They do know.

Reaper:

Honestly, the best grandfather ever.

Takes his grandkids to the best restaurants.

Always insists he stay the night.

If he’s babysitting over night and Hatsu or Eiji wakes up from a nightmare he hums or sings to them.

Has conversations with Dominic in Spanish.

Loves to help the kids prank Jesse and Hanzo.

Took Eiji home with him once.

It was the best two hours of Eiji’s life.

He always manages to bring some kind of stuffed animal for Hatsu and Eiji.

He spoils his grandkids to death.

He bought them too many Christmas presents at one point.

He was put on a budget.

He could spend $300 on each kid.

He bought 600 stuffed animals from the dollar store, 300 for Eiji and 300 for Hatsu.

Makes all of the Halloween costumes for the kids.

Made matching costumes for everyone.

They were a Mariachi Band.

Always talks about how he’s the better cook.

Hanzo disagrees.

But Gabe makes all the traditional Mexican food for his grandkids.

Loves listening to Dominic’s music.

Sneaks so much candy to them.

They aren’t hungry by the time it’s dinner.

Loves to cuddle Hatsu and Eiji.

They’re always attached to his legs.

Gets the kids ice cream if they’re upset.

Has tons of pictures of his grandkids.

Shows everyone.

No matter where he’s at.

Ana Gabrielle:

The oldest kid.

Loves her siblings.

Sometimes not Dominic.

Loves her grandparents.

All of them.

You know how a lot of girls wanted to marry their fathers when they were young?

Ana wanted to marry her Aunt Mercy.

Lowkey loves rock music.

Highkey is obsessed with classical and instrumental music.

Loves animals.

Tried to bring a sloth home from the zoo.

Is secretly good at singing.

Meditates with Hanzo on a daily basis.

Honestly, has punched Dominic more than once.

Their fights get physical sometimes.

Ana is a badass though.

She secretly misses her mom.

Curses in Japanese when she’s frustrated.

Plays the piano and the drums.

Highkey loves spicy everything.

Is the best baker in the house, second to Jesse.

Halloween is her favorite holiday.

Insists she buys all of the Christmas presents by herself.

Makes Christmas dinner with Hanzo and Grandma Amari every year.

Stays up at night helping Weston with his homework.

Sleeps like four hours a night.

Help her.

But the biggest nerd ever.

Dominic:

Really sweet.

A hard ass.

But sweet.

Is closer to his Grandpa Gabe than anyone else.

Tells him everything.

Writes Spanish songs and plays them for his Grandpa Gabe.

Loves his Grandma’s tea.

Cranky if he doesn’t listen to music at least once a day.

Hates country music.

Obsessed with pens.

Has hundreds.

Prefers erasable ones.

Plays so many instruments.

RIP Hanzo and Jesse’s bank accounts.

Dyed his hair blue and green once.

Hanzo fainted.

Dominic regretted it.

Picture day was a week later.

Most Christmas spirit out of the whole family.

Sings Christmas songs every year.

Is the first person to wake up.

Buys the best Christmas presents.

Wants to be a musician.

Wants his own car.

Can barely afford his guitars.

Ditched school for his gigs.

Loves the rain.

Has run outside during a storm.

He got sick.

Loves to read books.

Fantasy specifically.

Weston:

Protect him.

Just wants to be happy.

Is really insecure about himself.

Loves his uncle Genji.

Steals Jesse’s hat a lot.

Likes to use his gun.

Eats fried chicken as a midnight snack.

Talks in his sleep a lot.

Shares a room with Dominic???

He likes to stay with his dads though.

Brags to Hanzo and his Uncle Genji that he has three dragons.

Thinks it’s funny to unleash them in school.

Loves playing video games.

Watches old west movies with Jesse a lot.

Likes to be called “Wild Weston”.

Hates the water.

Hates his dyslexia.

He loves his family a lot.

Loves being with his Grandma Amari and Grandfathers.

Doesn’t like it when his sister and brother fight.

Has fought a few kids at school though.

Sneaks cookies and brownies to school.

Eats ice cream for breakfast when his Grandpa Gabe is in charge.

Has a small crush on his aunt Fareeha.

Hatsu and Eiji:

Twins.

Hatsu is more outgoing then her brother.

They’re the babies of the family.

Get away with everything.

Love sugar.

Are very attached to their stuffed animals.

Practically share a room with their dads.

Eiji loves vanilla ice cream but Hatsu loves mint chocolate chip.

They hate pancakes but love waffles.

Christmas is their favorite holiday.

But they’re always the last ones awake.

Love school.

Have a lot of friends.

Loves to be with their Grandma Amari or their Grandpa Gabe.

Hatsu’s favorite color is blue while Eiji’s is orange.

Can’t sleep without a nightlight.

Love TV.

But they don’t watch it often.

Get tired really easily.

Hatsu is Hanzo’s favorite and Eiji is Jesse’s.

Are very creative.

Really energetic too.

Surprisingly love vegetables.

[torixus]

Gloria Okoroafor shares her Sad story of how she Who Lost Husband In 2010 Jos Bombings

An Aged Nigerian woman who was reported  lost her husband to the Jos bombings in 2010 has told her heartbreaking story, explaining that she wishes it was all a dream. Read her Story below: Five blasts went off in Jos, the capital of Plateau State in 2010 as residents were celebrating Christmas Eve, leaving 31 persons dead according to media reports. On December 24, 2010, two bombs went off in the Angwa Rukuba area of Jos and within five to 20 minutes, there were three more blasts in the city. According to reports, there was chaos; people were crying and screaming. The radical Boko Haram Islamist sect claimed responsibility for the attacks, threatening more attacks to avenge violence against Muslims in and around Jos, where religious fighting had reportedly left more than 500 people dead during the year and displaced many others. The Christmas Eve attacks were just one of many attacks on the city since the Boko Haram insurgency started in 2009. Here is another Christmas season, when people get together to merry, exchange presents and have fun. But for Mrs Gloria Okoroafor, whose husband was killed in the blast that occurred at the Gada Biu area of the city, this year’s Christmas Eve will be another sad reminder of the tragic incident that led to the death of her husband and made her a widow. She shares her experience of that fateful day with JAMES ABRAHAM in Jos It has been eight years since you lost your husband in the bomb blast. How do you feel about the incident? The incident was really a traumatic one for me and members of my family. I hope my strength will not fail me while I’m answering all your questions. The truth is that in the last eight years, the death of my husband in that manner has been painful to me. It has equally created   so many problems for me; loneliness, hunger, lack and so on. There has been no assistance, even from relatives in all these years. Things have actually not been easy for me, but when my husband was alive, the situation was better for me. But I leave everything to God who says that in everything, we should give him thanks. How many Children do you have? I have only one male child. I also have a relative staying with us in the house. And I’m already old, so I cannot remarry. We are just hoping that one day; God will remember us and show us his mercy. What do  you and your child miss about your husband? We remember him every day. I miss him dearly because he was a good person. He was a man that cared for his family, relatives and those around him. He was an easy-going person who had no time for trouble. Many have testified to his peaceful disposition that he exhibited when he was alive. As a mason, he never quarrelled with those who gave him work to do. They were three (children) in his family, but two died during the Nigerian Civil War. So he was the one left to take care of the children left behind by his brothers and also people from my own family. But since his death, things have been difficult for everyone. We miss him so much. Does your child sometimes ask if he is coming back home? He asks on many occasions; he was disturbed by the sudden death of his father. As my only child, though he is grown now, he has on several occasions wondered if he would ever get to see his dad again. On that fateful day, he (husband) just told us that he was going to buy some drugs. We never saw him again. Unknown to us, he was one of the victims of the bomb blast. We were expecting him to return but after sometime, information came that he was also affected by the blast. When we eventually got there, we found him dead in a pool of blood. People who were there took him to the mortuary. How has his death affected the family? His death has been a big blow to the family, especially as he was the breadwinner. Even many people in the village depended on him for their upkeep. The situation has just been unbearable for us. Where were you when the incident happened? I was at home in Gada Biu when the incident occurred. I didn’t want to go anywhere because we had to prepare for Christmas, which was the next day. Can you recollect what happened on that day? On December 23, he had told us that he and a friend were going for work the next day. But on Christmas Eve, he changed his mind and instead decided to rest in preparation for the Christmas Day celebration. His plan was to use the work-free day to put the house in order. He also chose to wash some of his clothes by himself on that day, something I had been doing for him previously. He asked me to get some flour which would be used to prepare Chin Chin, while he busied himself with other things, including killing the chicken in readiness for Christmas Day. So, it was when he finished all these things that he said he had a slight headache, which made him to leave the house to get some drugs. That was between 6:30pm and 7:00pm on December 24. How did you find out that your husband was among those that died? Not very long after he left, we heard a loud explosion that shook the entire neighbourhood. I had never heard that kind of sound before. We were confused at home. Unknown to us, the deafening sound we heard at home was a bomb blast near the Gada Biu Bridge, which was along my husband’s route. At that time, People started running helter-skelter, while many were crying. There was confusion everywhere. Some people who ran towards our direction told us that many people had died as a result of the blast. When we called him on the phone to find out if he was safe, it actually rang but nobody answered. We became afraid and ran to the place. So that was how it happened. How did you feel when you found out that your husband was among those that died? I was devastated. In fact, I was actually told that I fainted when the incident occurred. When I recovered days later, it was as if I was in another world. What was the reaction of your child and ward? They too were devastated. It was also a very bad experience for them. They cried their hearts out. They were crying and rolling on the ground. The sight of my husband in a pool of blood was simply traumatic for us. How did you try to console them or were they the ones consoling you? I can’t remember very well. But I think they tried to console me, especially when I fainted. I also consoled them afterwards when I regained consciousness. The pain was just too heavy for me to bear. There was not enough strength in me to cry. But as I was crying, people started to console me. God also helped me to bear the situation, especially as he was being taken from the mortuary for burial in the South East, where he comes from. Did the Government reach out to you in any way? No. I did not receive any assistance from government. Members of my husband’s indigenous association, his church members and some who came to sympathise with us contributed money and that was how money was raised for his burial. How has the last eight years been for you? Life has not been easy at all. There has been no support for me since then. When my husband was alive, I had a shop at Gada Biu. He rented the shop for me. But I don’t have it anymore. If he were alive, he would not have allowed me to be hawking on the streets before I could feed because I know he did not want me to suffer. So his absence has actually created a new way of life for me and a difficult one for that matter. If I can get money, I would find another shop instead of hawking, which I have been doing to survive. So many things have changed about me. For instance, I hardly eat now unlike when my husband was alive. My condition generally is not the best. Apart from your husband, were there other people that were close to you that died in that bomb blast? There was no other close relation who died in the blast. But there were so many people that I did not know that also died during the incident. Some of them were critically injured. I know one man from Kogi State whose legs were shattered by the blast. Although, he managed to survive, he was still limping the last time I saw him. Did you think of relocating from your place of residence in Jos? Yes. There was a time I was seriously considering that. I asked myself what I was still doing in Jos with my husband gone. All manner of thoughts came to me, including the thought of committing suicide. It was really a difficult moment for me. As a Christian, what helped me was that the spirit of God told me that my sins would be doubled if I should commit suicide under any condition. So, I held on and restrained myself from taking that path. That is to tell you the extent to which my husband’s death affected me. Why didn’t you relocate eventually? Relocation was not easy at all. I was considering so many things. First, where do I go to from Jos? Who do I go to for assistance to enable me relocate?  What will I be doing and so on? I actually would have loved to relocate but it was difficult for me to do so because of these considerations. So my son advised that we drop the idea and we decided to stay here against my wish. Now when you pass the area where the incident happened, how do you feel? The memories of the sad incident usually play back in my mind with an astonishing speed in such a way that I usually fall ill inside of me. I will just remember how the bomb blast killed my husband near the transformer at Gada Biu. I try as much as possible to avoid going to the place most of the time. Did you get any help to assist you to cope with it, like a therapist? No, there was nothing like that. I have just been coping with the situation myself as God gives me strength. After the bomb blast, were you scared that there would be more attacks? Yes, I was scared. Most people were also scared because after the incident, other parts of Jos also witnessed several bomb explosions which killed many residents as well. So, it was like not knowing where the next explosion would occur. So I was afraid that another could take me or my only son. It was not easy for us moving freely. Each time we wanted to go out, we would advise one another to be very careful on the road. Even now, the fear has not completely disappeared in Jos because of what is happening. Sometimes, you will see government and security agents restricting movements of people and even commercial tricycle riders in their effort to arrest insecurity in the state. Residents are constantly reminded that all is not yet well, so they need to be vigilant as they go about their daily business. Would you describe the day of the bomb blast as your saddest day? Describing it as the saddest day of my life would be an understatement. It was a terrible day. How I wish it was a dream which never happened physically. It has been several years now. There is a saying that time heals all wounds….. Time has passed but the vacuum created by his death has not been filled. The vacuum which has turned my life upside down reminds me about him almost every day. I know that one day, everyone will die, but I never expected that my husband would die the way he did. What are the last things you still remember about your husband? There are so many things. On that fateful day, when he told me he was going to get some drugs, I remember asking him if it was not too late because he had not actually finished with the roasted chicken he was cutting for me to use in preparing stew. Before he left, he did something and I did not know whether it was a joke or not. He showed me a bag containing N6,000 and instructed that I use the money if he did not return. The previous day, I was ill and he bought some drugs for me. He also told me about a dream he had in which some Muslims pursued him in the dream and wanted to kill him. He expressed his fears that he did not know how God would give him the strength and power to jump over the roadblocks which they had placed on his way. He also told me that he saw some spirits in white uniform appearing to him in dreams. I also remember him telling me that he would soon travel somewhere. So many things remind me of him. In all these, I tried to encourage him to be strong as God would see him through all his challenges. But God who allowed this to happen knows His reasons. Do you sometimes feel there is something you could have done or said to him before he died that you didn’t get to do or say to him? Before the bomb blast, there was a day we went to sweep the church. We heard that some Muslims were relocating to other places for fear of reprisals, which were rumoured as being planned against Christians during the Christmas period. I came back and told my husband about it but he dismissed the story as untrue. But the events that followed proved him wrong. So, if it is possible for me to see him again in this world, I will tell him that sometimes, rumours can turn out to be real because there is no smoke without fire. I will tell him, ‘You see, do you remember my discussion with you about plans to detonate bombs in Jos by some people which came as a rumour but which you did not believe? I will ask him if he now believes my story since it was the same bomb that killed him’. Other bomb blasts that occurred in several parts of Jos usually started as a rumour and then they happened. So now, most residents have learnt not to dismiss rumours with a wave of the hand, especially when it comes to the issue of security. Did you have any premonition of what happened? Were there any signs or warning? I wouldn’t say for sure. But there were rumours of impending attacks but some of us did not know the form they would take until they happened. What did it feel like to be in Jos after the bomb blast? Let me tell you, it is not easy to live in Jos. Those who are living here do so by the Grace of God because what I saw during the bomb blast was overwhelming. But the truth is that in the midst of the insecurity we are faced with daily, if it is not yet your time to die, nothing will happen to you. I have since realised this because before my husband died, I was told that he actually returned home from the chemist and later went out again. I don’t know what took him to the street again for the second time. People said that they saw him and that it was when he was returning home that the bomb went off. He could have stayed where he went to until after the blast. Perhaps, if he had stayed, he would have been alive today. There were people that walked took that route shortly before the bomb exploded. So if something wants to happen to someone, it will happen to the person no matter how they try to prevent it, but if God does not approve of it, certainly it will not happen. That is the way I see it. Did your husband have any dreams or aspirations he was trying to actualise before he died in the bomb blast? Yes. I remember that we had initially planned to go home for Christmas that year but he later changed his mind. He told me we had to wait till April, during Easter period, because he was expecting some money which he would use to build his own house in the village. When we could not travel again, then he sent money to his relatives and my own people who were not happy that our plan had changed. Again, he was making arrangements for us to relocate from this place (Ungwa Shawa in Gada Biu) to a better location in Jos. I am still staying here because he is dead and all the plans he had, have remained unattended to since his demise. What do you do to keep his memory and dreams alive? We have no special way to remember him for now. But I have told myself that I will continue to live an upright life, which he left as a legacy when he was alive, by the Grace of God. That is how I will say I’m trying to keep his memory alive. There is still crisis in Jos and in some other places where people are being killed, what advice would you give to the government at all levels to deal with this so that citizens of Nigeria don’t have to die needless deaths? It is rather unfortunate that we have continued to witness occasional bloodbaths in the state. I will like to say that Jos is good if there is no crisis. If it is because of politics that some people are engineering crisis in the state and other places, which have claimed the lives of so many people, then they should realise that without people, there can be no politics. So government should ensure that there is peace among the people, who will then participate in political process. Whether Christians or Muslims, God created us as human beings. So we should not allow our religions to come between us to the point of destroying the lives of fellow human beings. Whatever grievances anybody or group has against another can be resolved amicably or in court. When there is peaceful co-existence among the people, I believe other things will fall in place. *** Source: Saturday Punch via Blogger http://bit.ly/2AojGqe

[apsbicepstraining]

5 Harsh Truths That Will Make You Less Of A Jerk

Humanity is principally defined by its is no way to seize the obvious. So, let me ask you this TAGEND

What is the most obviously wrong shit that beings feel on a daily basis that — wait for it — you too believe ?

I’m talking about something that you know on an intellectual level is incorrect, but five minutes after being reminded of it, you forget again. If you can’t think about one, well, I gamble I can. And it comes back to burn you in the proverbial ass method more frequently than you think …

# 5. We Are Privately Sure Everyone Feels The Same Pleasure And Pain

When you’re a toddler, you acquire everyone and everything in your world are similar to you. That’s why you used to think your thrust animals get lonely if you didn’t play with them and that your parents would love your cartoons if they would just give them an opportunity. It’s a normal chapter of a kid’s proliferation and as this much smarter guy points out, we never certainly germinate out of it.

I mean, you probably recollect being a boy and hearing an amazing new song that shaped you want to punch-dance through a brick wall … and then you played it for a couple sidekicks and they just got that gross look on their faces. You know, the watch of nervously pretending to enjoy something loathsome? What follows is more awkward three minutes of your life, during which you find yourself going steadily angrier( “Why are they claiming not to like it? ” ). But eventually, you grow up and realize that not everyone likes the same things.

Years afterwards, you get the flu but ability through production anyway, rather than miss season. Then, a co-worker catches it and takes three sick daytimes. You roll your eyes and announce him a pussy, automatically assuming that the two of you two are find exactly the same indications, but that one of you was tougher.

The obvious concept you’ll be missing is that standing is at least as subjective as music. Hell, discipline even is indicated that redheads tend to feel more ache than everyone else, due to a genetic quirk. It appears that it’s the same for women, due to how pain signals are communicated to the girl intelligence. Meanwhile, people from colder parts of the world literally stop feeling the cold the method the rest of us do. Some beings almost never appear fear — not due to firmnes, but due to a collapse of certain types of contacts in the intelligence( they’re called sociopaths ). All of the hotshots that motivate us to haunt specific actions and avoid others actually feel totally different from person to person.

She can snow angel for hours on end, but needs an ER trip and three months of rehab after a snowball engage .

You’ll shrug and say, “Of course, everyone known to be, you turdthinker, ” but five minutes after reading such articles, you’ll act in a way that substantiates you don’t. I’ve had fit acquaintances get annoyed with me when I say I’ve never experienced the “runner’s high” euphoria that comes with hard exercise. They say it’s because I’m not pushing myself hard enough, while science says some people are just physically incapable of appearing it. So, are my friends fit because they’re more dedicated than I am, or do they just enjoy the “high” of employ? They clearly want the former to be true. My thin acquaintances don’t like to admit that there’s a hormone that moves you starving and that some people simply have more of it.

That’s because formerly you accept the idea that it rightfully would feel completely different to live inside another person’s form, everything changes. After all, at what point can you safely accuse person for, well, anything?

# 4. We Don’t Realize The Battle Inside

I know what you’re saying. I ever know. “Oh, so you’re one of those buttholes who say nothing is anybody’s blame, because those poor souls are helpless to refuse their caprices? So, when somebody tortures a child to fatality, we’re supposed to give him a hug and say he couldn’t used to help? Is that it, butthole? You are the hole of a butt.”

No! You altogether are defined by how good of a position you do opposing your pernicious exhorts and overcoming hurting. Maturation is an issue of getting better at it; success is an issue of mastering it. Beating back the urge to procrastinate, to cease, to be lazy … that’s how you reach the top, child! Buy my notebook !

But …

You know that person at the part who’s ever furious? He blew up last month because soul lost an invoice. Last Christmas, he lost his shit because he thought somebody stole his lunch out of the fridge. You check him throw his outbursts and marvel at how immature he is. After all, you get angry, very, but you ensure it! Hell, you’ve had people plagiarize your lunch tons of periods, and you’ve never kicked a trashcan so difficult that it left a dent and realise the secretary cry.

Sure, you’ve fantasized about shitting in the culprit’s yogurt and blaming it on the apprentice, but you’ve never actually done it .

However, here’s the thing: From your outcome, he’s “always” angry. From his culminate, he’s had two blowups spread across several months and, in between those incidents, he successfully resisted the recommend to explode 162 experiences . His anger urges come more frequently than yours, and he experiences them more strongly. For him, every “normal” day is the result of a hard-won duel … but, you merely see when he loses. He find himself as the hero of his own life, battered and bruised by his personal demons. You envision him as a ridiculous manchild who loves to discover himself yell. You detest his unstable, feelings ass.

Or, you witness the space your depressed sidekick goes residence from operate and immediately clangs on the sofa, refusing to go out or do anything recreation. You dislike the acces she merely … affords up and refuses to even talking here it. Invisible to you is the merciless attempt she exerted precisely to make it through wreak. So, you get annoyed. Or, you find your marriage “feel like i m cheating on” you. You didn’t investigate all of the dozens of hours he had the exhort and fought. You merely encounter the moment he lastly demonstrated in. And you want to fucking kill him for it.

Basically half of all country music jobs are started this way .

And because you exclusively established up in the consequences of the these combats, they believe your grumbles to be the equivalent of some bureaucrats intimidating Arnold Schwarzenegger’s character after the events of Predator . “Why did you blow up a whole jungle, asshole? Your whole gang is dead, and it’s your flaw! No, I don’t want to hear your apologizes! Whose arm is this? “

“Fuck the chopper, your ass is getting to the unemployment path! ”

# 3. … But We’ll Usually Forgive Ourselves For The Same Failure

Here’s a question I bet you’ve never stopped to ask: Why is it an insult to allege officers of adoration doughnuts? Or to joke about how black people affection fried chicken or watermelon?

And simply clearly stated, those are reviles( in the U.S ., at the least ). If a officer plucks you over and you tell him, “Hey, you know the doughnut shop shuts at 8 p. m ., you better move, ” you know you’re pee-pee him off. If a grey buster moves up to groupings of black people standing on a street corner and says, “What, did somebody sag a barrel of fried chicken? ” he knows he’s trying to start a fight.

One that’ll end with him complaining online that nobody but him has a sense of humor anymore . But, why is it an offend? It’s not like the behaviour itself is vile — right now, there’s some grey buster sitting in a Popeyes Chicken restaurant snickering to his friends because a group of pitch-black guys trodden in. “Ha, how did I know they’d be here! I potted they’d rioting if this neighbourhood closed down! ” — literally taunting their desire of fried chicken through a sip of fried chicken. Well, what you’re find is a ritual we all go through in order to reassure ourselves. “Theres” two steps to it TAGEND

For the first, imagine a group of friends sitting around and sharing embarrassing fibs. As many of you know, during filming of the TV present Nashville , I was accidentally captured in the backdrop of a shot urinating into a fountain. So, I will tell that storey among friends, because I know someone else will immediately try to top it( “One age, ” says John, “I was pissing in the lavatory during a White House tour, and the president strolled in and I inadvertently turned around and pissed on him! I think some of it got in his lip! ” ). The aim is to reassure each other that our lives are screwed up in exactly the same way.

“For the record, John wholly plagiarized that storey from me.”

But, then comes the second largest part of the ritual, in which we’ll jest at somebody else’s screw-ups in a completely unforgiving and mean-spirited room, strictly to reassure ourselves that their failures aren’t like ours. “My family went to India a couple of years ago. All of the streets reek like piss! Merely a disgusting people — they’re like swine! “

This is why I invested my first got a couple of decades of life stimulating gay laughs with my small-town peers. For a cluster of guys scared of what their hormones were doing to them( “they can never know I jerked off to a Sports Illustrated article about beach volleyball! ” ), it was very reassuring to sit around and say, “Man, are you able dream going turned on by buster laughingstock ? ” It’s the same reason we would laugh at a friend’s messy copulation legends( “So, then I wake up and roll over — I’m like, I don’t even know this chick! She looked like fucking Richard Belzer! “) and then immediately talking here what worthless sluts those cheerleaders are. The theme? Our uncontrollable compulsions are lighthearted recreation, theirs are a signaling of weakness and degeneracy.

“Can you believe Richard Belzer just takes these pics that guys like us is likely to be masturbate to? God, what a Hollywood closet case.”

Thus, the “fried chicken” gags. The consequence is that, where my consumption of deep-fried chicken is just a ordinary buster gobbling an incredibly favourite American bowl, their uptake is due to a atrocious cultural failure to control their pushes. It shifts them into cartoonish gluttons, with no more self-control than pups. It’s the same reason my high school gay parodies often implied that homosexuals are ravenous rapists who can’t control their immorality( “When you’re in the cupboard chamber with Kevin, don’t deflect over for the soap! ” ).

But, in addition to causing us to be dicks to other people, this double standard too symbolizes …

# 2. You’re Constantly Getting Blindsided By Your Own Weaknesses

There’s this thing everybody does the first time they have to sit down and write up a budget. They’ll plan everything down to the penny — the really smart ones will even set aside some fund for disaster gondola restores and those sorts of things. But, they are able to also completely fail to plan for one important category TAGEND

Fucking up.

I’m talking about the weekend when you’re so depressed that you only buy a shitload of day-old grocery store donuts and eat all of them yourself. I’m talking about the eBay auction you acquire thanks to a drunken late-night offer, or the expensive talent bought for a special a person who has you detect doesn’t looks just like you back, or the dumb impulse buys you’ll inevitably become when you’re get over the breakup and want some kind of shining spot in their own lives( maybe it’ll be a puppy next time !).

“I’m not going to name you, so I’ll feel less guilty when you have to be returned.”

“Well, I precisely won’t do those happenings, ” you’ll say, “now that I have a fund! ” See, Future You goes tagged with the same ludicrous belief we make about strangers: All motivations can easily be overcome with a little effort. Future You won’t oblige dumb purchases to deaden desolate moods! That shit is what Old You did — from here on out, it’s smooth sailing!

And when you start dating mortal new, you never envisage, “This will be a good person to handle my alternating irritation outbursts and emotional cold spells six months after now! ” You’ll instead suppose yourself being awesome and stable, eternally. And when job opportunities comes up to take on a second place, one that would eliminate both sleep and your social life? “No problem! Future Me doesn’t get sleepy or lonely! Future Me is a robot that works with absolute precision and reliability! “

“Ho Hos from the vending machine are the only Christmas dinner I need tonight.”

Oh, sure, there are parties out there who run the opposite room, who joke about how they’re precisely a loser destined to wind up old and drunkard. But, frequently, the precise reasonablenes they’re down is because they’re repeatedly disappointed by how they screw up in the same roads again and again. Their own weaknesses continue to astonish them, since they are refuse to be realistic about how strong the desires are by comparison. Here’s a relevant time for those of you who want a brief YouTube snap TAGEND

It’s hard-handed, if not impossible, to make peace with the fact that we are always going to fuck up on occasion. And, at health risks of going taken out of situation, I’ve got to say that this has really facilitated me realize Satan.

That concept of a tempter who can work from inside your very mind, offering up short-term gratifications in exchange for long-term destruction … it prepares feel. I don’t mean as a literal being, but as a course to facilitate step outside yourself in those critical time. You get an urge and you stop to say, “Is this the devil, tempting me? ” It realise you suspicious of your short-term indulgings — the starvation, the rage, the selfishness — all that shit that will devastates your relationships and health in the long run. When someone else screws up, you can see them as a fellow casualty of the Dark Lord himself, deserving of sympathy.

But, you know, there’s a intellect Christians still cheat on their spouses and booze themselves to fatality. All they were required to do is change the focus to other people and keep it there( “Gays are just heterosexuals who���ve been invited into sin by the Devil! ” ). Hey, be talking about which …

# 1. We Give Clueless, Bullshit Solutions … And Then Get Angry When They Don’t Work

That last thing is probably the most perfect portrait of what I’m talking about in this article. Why do Christians seem so obsessed with homosexuality? Why have they decided lesbian marriage is the one issue capable of exterminating the light of the righteous from the universe eternally?

Because it’s the ultimate exam of the “Everyone knows the same temptations” fallacy.

If you sit down a cluster of anxious and tired people and start proclaiming to them about their fragilities( desire, gluttony, petty savagery, adultery ), you get lots of vexed folks altering uncomfortably in the pews. But, when you take that same mob and preach against lures they never find, if you rail against the “gay agenda” and Muslims and the depravity of Hollywood, now you get some ovations and “Amens” flowing your room. “Let us all congratulate ourselves for not succumbing to the push to change our sexual orientation or transformed into Islam! We are truly badass fighters of goodnes! “

“Like Jesus before me, I genuinely have the eye of the beast! ”

And obligate no mistake, having grown up in an evangelical church, up until my 20 s I knew exactly how to solve the lesbian wedding act: Simply give them the same rights as everyone else. And by that, I signify the right to marry the opposite fornication. I swear it built appreciation at the time and, because you presumably did not just start reading the clause right here, you already know why. Everyone, I was told, is actually a heterosexual — God said so. Thus, “gay” people simply have a funny fetish for the same fornication that they can get over with a bit tradition. If you’d told me that my homophobia was itself the result of my own bad caprices( including an overdeveloped gumption of disgust that’s common to social reactionaries ), I’d have gazed at you like you’d precisely puckered your cheeks and realized one steady fart noise. ” My behavior isn’t due to uncontrollable impulses! I’m a fully functional human being, with a person, who constitutes moral selects! “

And if you’d told me that not only is what they’re doing not immoral, but that if I swopped organizations with them, I’d be just as gay , if not more so? Hopeless. For me, at the time, the implications would have been shattering.

You’d have gotten a similar mind from me considering anyone outside my own group, in fact. If you’d driven me through the projects, I’d have calmly explained that if I was born there, I’d get a part-time job, save up some money, and move the hell out! I stepped around every day patting myself on the back for overcoming counsels I didn’t even detect, to make myself feel right about the ones I was giving in to on a daily basis. My years of asshole know-how are probably why I’m so fascinated with the Internet’s fat-hating obsession today. I return it up a lot, and it’s because each time some clueless 20 time old-fashioned says, “Losing weight is simple: It’s calories in, calories out! All you need is a little self-respect! ” I smile and nod and think, “Yep, that was me! I thought that same condescending bullshit! “

Spoiler: I was incorrect .

But, I attest that even experts acquire the same damned mistake, and always will. Pick any theme. Like the obesity stuff — we’ll listen a new possibility every month about whether fighting obesity is about cutting carbs, or paunch, or sugar, or precisely dismissing it all and cutting calories. They rarely seem to factor in the only thing that really subjects: which diet doesn’t leave you starving. Because if you’re getting pummeled with emptines insists, you will succumb. This is why exercise doesn’t induce you lose weight — exercise ignites calories but also clears you hungrier. And exactly 100 percentage of humans have a doorstep at which they no longer have the force to repel an exhort. I don’t care who you are — if the president himself got thirsty enough, he’d be begging John to pee-pee in his lip. It’s science.

It would also be a great style to choose who in the field really wants to be president .

Or what about violation? Statistically, if you grew up under certain circumstances, you’re far more likely to turn into war criminals. Now, cue the anecdotes: “Well, I grew up in the rough part of city, and I never so much as got a rushing ticket! ” See, because their impulse to commit crimes is surely no more powerful than ours, and our clean register is, hence, proof that we’re Gandhi. So, why lift a finger to improve those Ferguson “thugs” change “peoples lives”? None helped us! Better to retain a handgun under the couch and imagine about filming them when they break in.

“Well now, wait a second, ” you say, “that simply draws us back to the blame question that “youve never” got around to reacting. If we can’t genuinely know how hard individual pushed the motive to do the shitty happening he only did, then how do we know when it’s okay to call him an asshole ? “

Hmmm. Good subject. Here’s someone babying a minuscule owl.

The post 5 Harsh Truths That Will Make You Less Of A Jerk appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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[apsbicepstraining]

5 Harsh Truths That Will Make You Less Of A Jerk

Humanity is principally defined by its is no way to seize the obvious. So, let me ask you this TAGEND

What is the most obviously wrong shit that beings feel on a daily basis that — wait for it — you too believe ?

I’m talking about something that you know on an intellectual level is incorrect, but five minutes after being reminded of it, you forget again. If you can’t think about one, well, I gamble I can. And it comes back to burn you in the proverbial ass method more frequently than you think …

# 5. We Are Privately Sure Everyone Feels The Same Pleasure And Pain

When you’re a toddler, you acquire everyone and everything in your world are similar to you. That’s why you used to think your thrust animals get lonely if you didn’t play with them and that your parents would love your cartoons if they would just give them an opportunity. It’s a normal chapter of a kid’s proliferation and as this much smarter guy points out, we never certainly germinate out of it.

I mean, you probably recollect being a boy and hearing an amazing new song that shaped you want to punch-dance through a brick wall … and then you played it for a couple sidekicks and they just got that gross look on their faces. You know, the watch of nervously pretending to enjoy something loathsome? What follows is more awkward three minutes of your life, during which you find yourself going steadily angrier( “Why are they claiming not to like it? ” ). But eventually, you grow up and realize that not everyone likes the same things.

Years afterwards, you get the flu but ability through production anyway, rather than miss season. Then, a co-worker catches it and takes three sick daytimes. You roll your eyes and announce him a pussy, automatically assuming that the two of you two are find exactly the same indications, but that one of you was tougher.

The obvious concept you’ll be missing is that standing is at least as subjective as music. Hell, discipline even is indicated that redheads tend to feel more ache than everyone else, due to a genetic quirk. It appears that it’s the same for women, due to how pain signals are communicated to the girl intelligence. Meanwhile, people from colder parts of the world literally stop feeling the cold the method the rest of us do. Some beings almost never appear fear — not due to firmnes, but due to a collapse of certain types of contacts in the intelligence( they’re called sociopaths ). All of the hotshots that motivate us to haunt specific actions and avoid others actually feel totally different from person to person.

She can snow angel for hours on end, but needs an ER trip and three months of rehab after a snowball engage .

You’ll shrug and say, “Of course, everyone known to be, you turdthinker, ” but five minutes after reading such articles, you’ll act in a way that substantiates you don’t. I’ve had fit acquaintances get annoyed with me when I say I’ve never experienced the “runner’s high” euphoria that comes with hard exercise. They say it’s because I’m not pushing myself hard enough, while science says some people are just physically incapable of appearing it. So, are my friends fit because they’re more dedicated than I am, or do they just enjoy the “high” of employ? They clearly want the former to be true. My thin acquaintances don’t like to admit that there’s a hormone that moves you starving and that some people simply have more of it.

That’s because formerly you accept the idea that it rightfully would feel completely different to live inside another person’s form, everything changes. After all, at what point can you safely accuse person for, well, anything?

# 4. We Don’t Realize The Battle Inside

I know what you’re saying. I ever know. “Oh, so you’re one of those buttholes who say nothing is anybody’s blame, because those poor souls are helpless to refuse their caprices? So, when somebody tortures a child to fatality, we’re supposed to give him a hug and say he couldn’t used to help? Is that it, butthole? You are the hole of a butt.”

No! You altogether are defined by how good of a position you do opposing your pernicious exhorts and overcoming hurting. Maturation is an issue of getting better at it; success is an issue of mastering it. Beating back the urge to procrastinate, to cease, to be lazy … that’s how you reach the top, child! Buy my notebook !

But …

You know that person at the part who’s ever furious? He blew up last month because soul lost an invoice. Last Christmas, he lost his shit because he thought somebody stole his lunch out of the fridge. You check him throw his outbursts and marvel at how immature he is. After all, you get angry, very, but you ensure it! Hell, you’ve had people plagiarize your lunch tons of periods, and you’ve never kicked a trashcan so difficult that it left a dent and realise the secretary cry.

Sure, you’ve fantasized about shitting in the culprit’s yogurt and blaming it on the apprentice, but you’ve never actually done it .

However, here’s the thing: From your outcome, he’s “always” angry. From his culminate, he’s had two blowups spread across several months and, in between those incidents, he successfully resisted the recommend to explode 162 experiences . His anger urges come more frequently than yours, and he experiences them more strongly. For him, every “normal” day is the result of a hard-won duel … but, you merely see when he loses. He find himself as the hero of his own life, battered and bruised by his personal demons. You envision him as a ridiculous manchild who loves to discover himself yell. You detest his unstable, feelings ass.

Or, you witness the space your depressed sidekick goes residence from operate and immediately clangs on the sofa, refusing to go out or do anything recreation. You dislike the acces she merely … affords up and refuses to even talking here it. Invisible to you is the merciless attempt she exerted precisely to make it through wreak. So, you get annoyed. Or, you find your marriage “feel like i m cheating on” you. You didn’t investigate all of the dozens of hours he had the exhort and fought. You merely encounter the moment he lastly demonstrated in. And you want to fucking kill him for it.

Basically half of all country music jobs are started this way .

And because you exclusively established up in the consequences of the these combats, they believe your grumbles to be the equivalent of some bureaucrats intimidating Arnold Schwarzenegger’s character after the events of Predator . “Why did you blow up a whole jungle, asshole? Your whole gang is dead, and it’s your flaw! No, I don’t want to hear your apologizes! Whose arm is this? “

“Fuck the chopper, your ass is getting to the unemployment path! ”

# 3. … But We’ll Usually Forgive Ourselves For The Same Failure

Here’s a question I bet you’ve never stopped to ask: Why is it an insult to allege officers of adoration doughnuts? Or to joke about how black people affection fried chicken or watermelon?

And simply clearly stated, those are reviles( in the U.S ., at the least ). If a officer plucks you over and you tell him, “Hey, you know the doughnut shop shuts at 8 p. m ., you better move, ” you know you’re pee-pee him off. If a grey buster moves up to groupings of black people standing on a street corner and says, “What, did somebody sag a barrel of fried chicken? ” he knows he’s trying to start a fight.

One that’ll end with him complaining online that nobody but him has a sense of humor anymore . But, why is it an offend? It’s not like the behaviour itself is vile — right now, there’s some grey buster sitting in a Popeyes Chicken restaurant snickering to his friends because a group of pitch-black guys trodden in. “Ha, how did I know they’d be here! I potted they’d rioting if this neighbourhood closed down! ” — literally taunting their desire of fried chicken through a sip of fried chicken. Well, what you’re find is a ritual we all go through in order to reassure ourselves. “Theres” two steps to it TAGEND

For the first, imagine a group of friends sitting around and sharing embarrassing fibs. As many of you know, during filming of the TV present Nashville , I was accidentally captured in the backdrop of a shot urinating into a fountain. So, I will tell that storey among friends, because I know someone else will immediately try to top it( “One age, ” says John, “I was pissing in the lavatory during a White House tour, and the president strolled in and I inadvertently turned around and pissed on him! I think some of it got in his lip! ” ). The aim is to reassure each other that our lives are screwed up in exactly the same way.

“For the record, John wholly plagiarized that storey from me.”

But, then comes the second largest part of the ritual, in which we’ll jest at somebody else’s screw-ups in a completely unforgiving and mean-spirited room, strictly to reassure ourselves that their failures aren’t like ours. “My family went to India a couple of years ago. All of the streets reek like piss! Merely a disgusting people — they’re like swine! “

This is why I invested my first got a couple of decades of life stimulating gay laughs with my small-town peers. For a cluster of guys scared of what their hormones were doing to them( “they can never know I jerked off to a Sports Illustrated article about beach volleyball! ” ), it was very reassuring to sit around and say, “Man, are you able dream going turned on by buster laughingstock ? ” It’s the same reason we would laugh at a friend’s messy copulation legends( “So, then I wake up and roll over — I’m like, I don’t even know this chick! She looked like fucking Richard Belzer! “) and then immediately talking here what worthless sluts those cheerleaders are. The theme? Our uncontrollable compulsions are lighthearted recreation, theirs are a signaling of weakness and degeneracy.

“Can you believe Richard Belzer just takes these pics that guys like us is likely to be masturbate to? God, what a Hollywood closet case.”

Thus, the “fried chicken” gags. The consequence is that, where my consumption of deep-fried chicken is just a ordinary buster gobbling an incredibly favourite American bowl, their uptake is due to a atrocious cultural failure to control their pushes. It shifts them into cartoonish gluttons, with no more self-control than pups. It’s the same reason my high school gay parodies often implied that homosexuals are ravenous rapists who can’t control their immorality( “When you’re in the cupboard chamber with Kevin, don’t deflect over for the soap! ” ).

But, in addition to causing us to be dicks to other people, this double standard too symbolizes …

# 2. You’re Constantly Getting Blindsided By Your Own Weaknesses

There’s this thing everybody does the first time they have to sit down and write up a budget. They’ll plan everything down to the penny — the really smart ones will even set aside some fund for disaster gondola restores and those sorts of things. But, they are able to also completely fail to plan for one important category TAGEND

Fucking up.

I’m talking about the weekend when you’re so depressed that you only buy a shitload of day-old grocery store donuts and eat all of them yourself. I’m talking about the eBay auction you acquire thanks to a drunken late-night offer, or the expensive talent bought for a special a person who has you detect doesn’t looks just like you back, or the dumb impulse buys you’ll inevitably become when you’re get over the breakup and want some kind of shining spot in their own lives( maybe it’ll be a puppy next time !).

“I’m not going to name you, so I’ll feel less guilty when you have to be returned.”

“Well, I precisely won’t do those happenings, ” you’ll say, “now that I have a fund! ” See, Future You goes tagged with the same ludicrous belief we make about strangers: All motivations can easily be overcome with a little effort. Future You won’t oblige dumb purchases to deaden desolate moods! That shit is what Old You did — from here on out, it’s smooth sailing!

And when you start dating mortal new, you never envisage, “This will be a good person to handle my alternating irritation outbursts and emotional cold spells six months after now! ” You’ll instead suppose yourself being awesome and stable, eternally. And when job opportunities comes up to take on a second place, one that would eliminate both sleep and your social life? “No problem! Future Me doesn’t get sleepy or lonely! Future Me is a robot that works with absolute precision and reliability! “

“Ho Hos from the vending machine are the only Christmas dinner I need tonight.”

Oh, sure, there are parties out there who run the opposite room, who joke about how they’re precisely a loser destined to wind up old and drunkard. But, frequently, the precise reasonablenes they’re down is because they’re repeatedly disappointed by how they screw up in the same roads again and again. Their own weaknesses continue to astonish them, since they are refuse to be realistic about how strong the desires are by comparison. Here’s a relevant time for those of you who want a brief YouTube snap TAGEND

It’s hard-handed, if not impossible, to make peace with the fact that we are always going to fuck up on occasion. And, at health risks of going taken out of situation, I’ve got to say that this has really facilitated me realize Satan.

That concept of a tempter who can work from inside your very mind, offering up short-term gratifications in exchange for long-term destruction … it prepares feel. I don’t mean as a literal being, but as a course to facilitate step outside yourself in those critical time. You get an urge and you stop to say, “Is this the devil, tempting me? ” It realise you suspicious of your short-term indulgings — the starvation, the rage, the selfishness — all that shit that will devastates your relationships and health in the long run. When someone else screws up, you can see them as a fellow casualty of the Dark Lord himself, deserving of sympathy.

But, you know, there’s a intellect Christians still cheat on their spouses and booze themselves to fatality. All they were required to do is change the focus to other people and keep it there( “Gays are just heterosexuals who’ve been invited into sin by the Devil! ” ). Hey, be talking about which …

# 1. We Give Clueless, Bullshit Solutions … And Then Get Angry When They Don’t Work

That last thing is probably the most perfect portrait of what I’m talking about in this article. Why do Christians seem so obsessed with homosexuality? Why have they decided lesbian marriage is the one issue capable of exterminating the light of the righteous from the universe eternally?

Because it’s the ultimate exam of the “Everyone knows the same temptations” fallacy.

If you sit down a cluster of anxious and tired people and start proclaiming to them about their fragilities( desire, gluttony, petty savagery, adultery ), you get lots of vexed folks altering uncomfortably in the pews. But, when you take that same mob and preach against lures they never find, if you rail against the “gay agenda” and Muslims and the depravity of Hollywood, now you get some ovations and “Amens” flowing your room. “Let us all congratulate ourselves for not succumbing to the push to change our sexual orientation or transformed into Islam! We are truly badass fighters of goodnes! “

“Like Jesus before me, I genuinely have the eye of the beast! ”

And obligate no mistake, having grown up in an evangelical church, up until my 20 s I knew exactly how to solve the lesbian wedding act: Simply give them the same rights as everyone else. And by that, I signify the right to marry the opposite fornication. I swear it built appreciation at the time and, because you presumably did not just start reading the clause right here, you already know why. Everyone, I was told, is actually a heterosexual — God said so. Thus, “gay” people simply have a funny fetish for the same fornication that they can get over with a bit tradition. If you’d told me that my homophobia was itself the result of my own bad caprices( including an overdeveloped gumption of disgust that’s common to social reactionaries ), I’d have gazed at you like you’d precisely puckered your cheeks and realized one steady fart noise. ” My behavior isn’t due to uncontrollable impulses! I’m a fully functional human being, with a person, who constitutes moral selects! “

And if you’d told me that not only is what they’re doing not immoral, but that if I swopped organizations with them, I’d be just as gay , if not more so? Hopeless. For me, at the time, the implications would have been shattering.

You’d have gotten a similar mind from me considering anyone outside my own group, in fact. If you’d driven me through the projects, I’d have calmly explained that if I was born there, I’d get a part-time job, save up some money, and move the hell out! I stepped around every day patting myself on the back for overcoming counsels I didn’t even detect, to make myself feel right about the ones I was giving in to on a daily basis. My years of asshole know-how are probably why I’m so fascinated with the Internet’s fat-hating obsession today. I return it up a lot, and it’s because each time some clueless 20 time old-fashioned says, “Losing weight is simple: It’s calories in, calories out! All you need is a little self-respect! ” I smile and nod and think, “Yep, that was me! I thought that same condescending bullshit! “

Spoiler: I was incorrect .

But, I attest that even experts acquire the same damned mistake, and always will. Pick any theme. Like the obesity stuff — we’ll listen a new possibility every month about whether fighting obesity is about cutting carbs, or paunch, or sugar, or precisely dismissing it all and cutting calories. They rarely seem to factor in the only thing that really subjects: which diet doesn’t leave you starving. Because if you’re getting pummeled with emptines insists, you will succumb. This is why exercise doesn’t induce you lose weight — exercise ignites calories but also clears you hungrier. And exactly 100 percentage of humans have a doorstep at which they no longer have the force to repel an exhort. I don’t care who you are — if the president himself got thirsty enough, he’d be begging John to pee-pee in his lip. It’s science.

It would also be a great style to choose who in the field really wants to be president .

Or what about violation? Statistically, if you grew up under certain circumstances, you’re far more likely to turn into war criminals. Now, cue the anecdotes: “Well, I grew up in the rough part of city, and I never so much as got a rushing ticket! ” See, because their impulse to commit crimes is surely no more powerful than ours, and our clean register is, hence, proof that we’re Gandhi. So, why lift a finger to improve those Ferguson “thugs” change “peoples lives”? None helped us! Better to retain a handgun under the couch and imagine about filming them when they break in.

“Well now, wait a second, ” you say, “that simply draws us back to the blame question that “youve never” got around to reacting. If we can’t genuinely know how hard individual pushed the motive to do the shitty happening he only did, then how do we know when it’s okay to call him an asshole ? “

Hmmm. Good subject. Here’s someone babying a minuscule owl.

The post 5 Harsh Truths That Will Make You Less Of A Jerk appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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[apsbicepstraining]

5 Harsh Truths That Will Make You Less Of A Jerk

Humanity is principally defined by its is no way to seize the obvious. So, let me ask you this TAGEND

What is the most obviously wrong shit that beings feel on a daily basis that — wait for it — you too believe ?

I’m talking about something that you know on an intellectual level is incorrect, but five minutes after being reminded of it, you forget again. If you can’t think about one, well, I gamble I can. And it comes back to burn you in the proverbial ass method more frequently than you think …

# 5. We Are Privately Sure Everyone Feels The Same Pleasure And Pain

When you’re a toddler, you acquire everyone and everything in your world are similar to you. That’s why you used to think your thrust animals get lonely if you didn’t play with them and that your parents would love your cartoons if they would just give them an opportunity. It’s a normal chapter of a kid’s proliferation and as this much smarter guy points out, we never certainly germinate out of it.

I mean, you probably recollect being a boy and hearing an amazing new song that shaped you want to punch-dance through a brick wall … and then you played it for a couple sidekicks and they just got that gross look on their faces. You know, the watch of nervously pretending to enjoy something loathsome? What follows is more awkward three minutes of your life, during which you find yourself going steadily angrier( “Why are they claiming not to like it? ” ). But eventually, you grow up and realize that not everyone likes the same things.

Years afterwards, you get the flu but ability through production anyway, rather than miss season. Then, a co-worker catches it and takes three sick daytimes. You roll your eyes and announce him a pussy, automatically assuming that the two of you two are find exactly the same indications, but that one of you was tougher.

The obvious concept you’ll be missing is that standing is at least as subjective as music. Hell, discipline even is indicated that redheads tend to feel more ache than everyone else, due to a genetic quirk. It appears that it’s the same for women, due to how pain signals are communicated to the girl intelligence. Meanwhile, people from colder parts of the world literally stop feeling the cold the method the rest of us do. Some beings almost never appear fear — not due to firmnes, but due to a collapse of certain types of contacts in the intelligence( they’re called sociopaths ). All of the hotshots that motivate us to haunt specific actions and avoid others actually feel totally different from person to person.

She can snow angel for hours on end, but needs an ER trip and three months of rehab after a snowball engage .

You’ll shrug and say, “Of course, everyone known to be, you turdthinker, ” but five minutes after reading such articles, you’ll act in a way that substantiates you don’t. I’ve had fit acquaintances get annoyed with me when I say I’ve never experienced the “runner’s high” euphoria that comes with hard exercise. They say it’s because I’m not pushing myself hard enough, while science says some people are just physically incapable of appearing it. So, are my friends fit because they’re more dedicated than I am, or do they just enjoy the “high” of employ? They clearly want the former to be true. My thin acquaintances don’t like to admit that there’s a hormone that moves you starving and that some people simply have more of it.

That’s because formerly you accept the idea that it rightfully would feel completely different to live inside another person’s form, everything changes. After all, at what point can you safely accuse person for, well, anything?

# 4. We Don’t Realize The Battle Inside

I know what you’re saying. I ever know. “Oh, so you’re one of those buttholes who say nothing is anybody’s blame, because those poor souls are helpless to refuse their caprices? So, when somebody tortures a child to fatality, we’re supposed to give him a hug and say he couldn’t used to help? Is that it, butthole? You are the hole of a butt.”

No! You altogether are defined by how good of a position you do opposing your pernicious exhorts and overcoming hurting. Maturation is an issue of getting better at it; success is an issue of mastering it. Beating back the urge to procrastinate, to cease, to be lazy … that’s how you reach the top, child! Buy my notebook !

But …

You know that person at the part who’s ever furious? He blew up last month because soul lost an invoice. Last Christmas, he lost his shit because he thought somebody stole his lunch out of the fridge. You check him throw his outbursts and marvel at how immature he is. After all, you get angry, very, but you ensure it! Hell, you’ve had people plagiarize your lunch tons of periods, and you’ve never kicked a trashcan so difficult that it left a dent and realise the secretary cry.

Sure, you’ve fantasized about shitting in the culprit’s yogurt and blaming it on the apprentice, but you’ve never actually done it .

However, here’s the thing: From your outcome, he’s “always” angry. From his culminate, he’s had two blowups spread across several months and, in between those incidents, he successfully resisted the recommend to explode 162 experiences . His anger urges come more frequently than yours, and he experiences them more strongly. For him, every “normal” day is the result of a hard-won duel … but, you merely see when he loses. He find himself as the hero of his own life, battered and bruised by his personal demons. You envision him as a ridiculous manchild who loves to discover himself yell. You detest his unstable, feelings ass.

Or, you witness the space your depressed sidekick goes residence from operate and immediately clangs on the sofa, refusing to go out or do anything recreation. You dislike the acces she merely … affords up and refuses to even talking here it. Invisible to you is the merciless attempt she exerted precisely to make it through wreak. So, you get annoyed. Or, you find your marriage “feel like i m cheating on” you. You didn’t investigate all of the dozens of hours he had the exhort and fought. You merely encounter the moment he lastly demonstrated in. And you want to fucking kill him for it.

Basically half of all country music jobs are started this way .

And because you exclusively established up in the consequences of the these combats, they believe your grumbles to be the equivalent of some bureaucrats intimidating Arnold Schwarzenegger’s character after the events of Predator . “Why did you blow up a whole jungle, asshole? Your whole gang is dead, and it’s your flaw! No, I don’t want to hear your apologizes! Whose arm is this? “

“Fuck the chopper, your ass is getting to the unemployment path! ”

# 3. … But We’ll Usually Forgive Ourselves For The Same Failure

Here’s a question I bet you’ve never stopped to ask: Why is it an insult to allege officers of adoration doughnuts? Or to joke about how black people affection fried chicken or watermelon?

And simply clearly stated, those are reviles( in the U.S ., at the least ). If a officer plucks you over and you tell him, “Hey, you know the doughnut shop shuts at 8 p. m ., you better move, ” you know you’re pee-pee him off. If a grey buster moves up to groupings of black people standing on a street corner and says, “What, did somebody sag a barrel of fried chicken? ” he knows he’s trying to start a fight.

One that’ll end with him complaining online that nobody but him has a sense of humor anymore . But, why is it an offend? It’s not like the behaviour itself is vile — right now, there’s some grey buster sitting in a Popeyes Chicken restaurant snickering to his friends because a group of pitch-black guys trodden in. “Ha, how did I know they’d be here! I potted they’d rioting if this neighbourhood closed down! ” — literally taunting their desire of fried chicken through a sip of fried chicken. Well, what you’re find is a ritual we all go through in order to reassure ourselves. “Theres” two steps to it TAGEND

For the first, imagine a group of friends sitting around and sharing embarrassing fibs. As many of you know, during filming of the TV present Nashville , I was accidentally captured in the backdrop of a shot urinating into a fountain. So, I will tell that storey among friends, because I know someone else will immediately try to top it( “One age, ” says John, “I was pissing in the lavatory during a White House tour, and the president strolled in and I inadvertently turned around and pissed on him! I think some of it got in his lip! ” ). The aim is to reassure each other that our lives are screwed up in exactly the same way.

“For the record, John wholly plagiarized that storey from me.”

But, then comes the second largest part of the ritual, in which we’ll jest at somebody else’s screw-ups in a completely unforgiving and mean-spirited room, strictly to reassure ourselves that their failures aren’t like ours. “My family went to India a couple of years ago. All of the streets reek like piss! Merely a disgusting people — they’re like swine! “

This is why I invested my first got a couple of decades of life stimulating gay laughs with my small-town peers. For a cluster of guys scared of what their hormones were doing to them( “they can never know I jerked off to a Sports Illustrated article about beach volleyball! ” ), it was very reassuring to sit around and say, “Man, are you able dream going turned on by buster laughingstock ? ” It’s the same reason we would laugh at a friend’s messy copulation legends( “So, then I wake up and roll over — I’m like, I don’t even know this chick! She looked like fucking Richard Belzer! “) and then immediately talking here what worthless sluts those cheerleaders are. The theme? Our uncontrollable compulsions are lighthearted recreation, theirs are a signaling of weakness and degeneracy.

“Can you believe Richard Belzer just takes these pics that guys like us is likely to be masturbate to? God, what a Hollywood closet case.”

Thus, the “fried chicken” gags. The consequence is that, where my consumption of deep-fried chicken is just a ordinary buster gobbling an incredibly favourite American bowl, their uptake is due to a atrocious cultural failure to control their pushes. It shifts them into cartoonish gluttons, with no more self-control than pups. It’s the same reason my high school gay parodies often implied that homosexuals are ravenous rapists who can’t control their immorality( “When you’re in the cupboard chamber with Kevin, don’t deflect over for the soap! ” ).

But, in addition to causing us to be dicks to other people, this double standard too symbolizes …

# 2. You’re Constantly Getting Blindsided By Your Own Weaknesses

There’s this thing everybody does the first time they have to sit down and write up a budget. They’ll plan everything down to the penny — the really smart ones will even set aside some fund for disaster gondola restores and those sorts of things. But, they are able to also completely fail to plan for one important category TAGEND

Fucking up.

I’m talking about the weekend when you’re so depressed that you only buy a shitload of day-old grocery store donuts and eat all of them yourself. I’m talking about the eBay auction you acquire thanks to a drunken late-night offer, or the expensive talent bought for a special a person who has you detect doesn’t looks just like you back, or the dumb impulse buys you’ll inevitably become when you’re get over the breakup and want some kind of shining spot in their own lives( maybe it’ll be a puppy next time !).

“I’m not going to name you, so I’ll feel less guilty when you have to be returned.”

“Well, I precisely won’t do those happenings, ” you’ll say, “now that I have a fund! ” See, Future You goes tagged with the same ludicrous belief we make about strangers: All motivations can easily be overcome with a little effort. Future You won’t oblige dumb purchases to deaden desolate moods! That shit is what Old You did — from here on out, it’s smooth sailing!

And when you start dating mortal new, you never envisage, “This will be a good person to handle my alternating irritation outbursts and emotional cold spells six months after now! ” You’ll instead suppose yourself being awesome and stable, eternally. And when job opportunities comes up to take on a second place, one that would eliminate both sleep and your social life? “No problem! Future Me doesn’t get sleepy or lonely! Future Me is a robot that works with absolute precision and reliability! “

“Ho Hos from the vending machine are the only Christmas dinner I need tonight.”

Oh, sure, there are parties out there who run the opposite room, who joke about how they’re precisely a loser destined to wind up old and drunkard. But, frequently, the precise reasonablenes they’re down is because they’re repeatedly disappointed by how they screw up in the same roads again and again. Their own weaknesses continue to astonish them, since they are refuse to be realistic about how strong the desires are by comparison. Here’s a relevant time for those of you who want a brief YouTube snap TAGEND

It’s hard-handed, if not impossible, to make peace with the fact that we are always going to fuck up on occasion. And, at health risks of going taken out of situation, I’ve got to say that this has really facilitated me realize Satan.

That concept of a tempter who can work from inside your very mind, offering up short-term gratifications in exchange for long-term destruction … it prepares feel. I don’t mean as a literal being, but as a course to facilitate step outside yourself in those critical time. You get an urge and you stop to say, “Is this the devil, tempting me? ” It realise you suspicious of your short-term indulgings — the starvation, the rage, the selfishness — all that shit that will devastates your relationships and health in the long run. When someone else screws up, you can see them as a fellow casualty of the Dark Lord himself, deserving of sympathy.

But, you know, there’s a intellect Christians still cheat on their spouses and booze themselves to fatality. All they were required to do is change the focus to other people and keep it there( “Gays are just heterosexuals who’ve been invited into sin by the Devil! ” ). Hey, be talking about which …

# 1. We Give Clueless, Bullshit Solutions … And Then Get Angry When They Don’t Work

That last thing is probably the most perfect portrait of what I’m talking about in this article. Why do Christians seem so obsessed with homosexuality? Why have they decided lesbian marriage is the one issue capable of exterminating the light of the righteous from the universe eternally?

Because it’s the ultimate exam of the “Everyone knows the same temptations” fallacy.

If you sit down a cluster of anxious and tired people and start proclaiming to them about their fragilities( desire, gluttony, petty savagery, adultery ), you get lots of vexed folks altering uncomfortably in the pews. But, when you take that same mob and preach against lures they never find, if you rail against the “gay agenda” and Muslims and the depravity of Hollywood, now you get some ovations and “Amens” flowing your room. “Let us all congratulate ourselves for not succumbing to the push to change our sexual orientation or transformed into Islam! We are truly badass fighters of goodnes! “

“Like Jesus before me, I genuinely have the eye of the beast! ”

And obligate no mistake, having grown up in an evangelical church, up until my 20 s I knew exactly how to solve the lesbian wedding act: Simply give them the same rights as everyone else. And by that, I signify the right to marry the opposite fornication. I swear it built appreciation at the time and, because you presumably did not just start reading the clause right here, you already know why. Everyone, I was told, is actually a heterosexual — God said so. Thus, “gay” people simply have a funny fetish for the same fornication that they can get over with a bit tradition. If you’d told me that my homophobia was itself the result of my own bad caprices( including an overdeveloped gumption of disgust that’s common to social reactionaries ), I’d have gazed at you like you’d precisely puckered your cheeks and realized one steady fart noise. ” My behavior isn’t due to uncontrollable impulses! I’m a fully functional human being, with a person, who constitutes moral selects! “

And if you’d told me that not only is what they’re doing not immoral, but that if I swopped organizations with them, I’d be just as gay , if not more so? Hopeless. For me, at the time, the implications would have been shattering.

You’d have gotten a similar mind from me considering anyone outside my own group, in fact. If you’d driven me through the projects, I’d have calmly explained that if I was born there, I’d get a part-time job, save up some money, and move the hell out! I stepped around every day patting myself on the back for overcoming counsels I didn’t even detect, to make myself feel right about the ones I was giving in to on a daily basis. My years of asshole know-how are probably why I’m so fascinated with the Internet’s fat-hating obsession today. I return it up a lot, and it’s because each time some clueless 20 time old-fashioned says, “Losing weight is simple: It’s calories in, calories out! All you need is a little self-respect! ” I smile and nod and think, “Yep, that was me! I thought that same condescending bullshit! “

Spoiler: I was incorrect .

But, I attest that even experts acquire the same damned mistake, and always will. Pick any theme. Like the obesity stuff — we’ll listen a new possibility every month about whether fighting obesity is about cutting carbs, or paunch, or sugar, or precisely dismissing it all and cutting calories. They rarely seem to factor in the only thing that really subjects: which diet doesn’t leave you starving. Because if you’re getting pummeled with emptines insists, you will succumb. This is why exercise doesn’t induce you lose weight — exercise ignites calories but also clears you hungrier. And exactly 100 percentage of humans have a doorstep at which they no longer have the force to repel an exhort. I don’t care who you are — if the president himself got thirsty enough, he’d be begging John to pee-pee in his lip. It’s science.

It would also be a great style to choose who in the field really wants to be president .

Or what about violation? Statistically, if you grew up under certain circumstances, you’re far more likely to turn into war criminals. Now, cue the anecdotes: “Well, I grew up in the rough part of city, and I never so much as got a rushing ticket! ” See, because their impulse to commit crimes is surely no more powerful than ours, and our clean register is, hence, proof that we’re Gandhi. So, why lift a finger to improve those Ferguson “thugs” change “peoples lives”? None helped us! Better to retain a handgun under the couch and imagine about filming them when they break in.

“Well now, wait a second, ” you say, “that simply draws us back to the blame question that “youve never” got around to reacting. If we can’t genuinely know how hard individual pushed the motive to do the shitty happening he only did, then how do we know when it’s okay to call him an asshole ? “

Hmmm. Good subject. Here’s someone babying a minuscule owl.

The post 5 Harsh Truths That Will Make You Less Of A Jerk appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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