#goodwill gods have delivered to me again

[spacehomos]

YALLLLLL

[jerzwriter]

A Little Holiday Cheer

Happy Holidays!

@lilyoffandoms had no idea what they were creating when they wrote a tiny drabble about these three sets of loons. Since then, Lily, Dani (@storyofmychoices), and I have expanded on their hijinx, and it just gets more fun with time. I asked the lovely, talented, and all-around amazing @/artbyainna (IG) to create this commemoration not only of the friendship between Ethan, Merida, Bryce, Olivia, Casey & Tobias but, more importantly, the friendship between us! 😊 As always, she MORE than delivered! I hope this brings you a little smile.

Book: Open Heart Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x Merida (@lilyoffandoms), Bryce Lahela x Olivia (@storyofmychoices), and Tobias Carrick x Casey (mine!) Rating: Teen Words: 825 Summary: It all started at Ethan & Merida's place, so it's only fitting that we go back there again!

There was something about this time of year... even the mundane seemed to morph into magic, and tonight's gathering of friends was no exception. While the robust aroma of lasagna competed with the sweet scent of sugar cookies baking in the second oven, neither managed to diffuse the fragrant pine from the Christmas tree. Music served only as a background to the laughter and lively chatter, but while Bryce and Olivia were too engaged in the conversation.. and each other... to notice the music shift from soulful renditions of holiday standards back to melodic strings and woodwinds, Merida didn’t miss a beat. Resplendent in her holiday attire, she halted slicing provolone for the charcuterie board long enough to shoot Ethan a menacing glare. 

“Ethan Jonah Ramsey, so help me God! If you turn Stevie off to put The Nutcracker back on one more time, I will not be responsible for my actions!”

“I’d be careful,” Bryce advised. “She is holding an exceptionally large knife.”

Ethan started to open his mouth, then thought better of it. With a quick flick of the wrist, “That’s What Christmas Means to Me My Love” blared through the air once more.

“What did it?” Olivia teased. “Knowing you were outnumbered, or the large knife?”

Ethan leaned against the counter, popped a piece of chorizo in his mouth, and shrugged. “It’s the season of goodwill. Let's go with that.” His half-smile quickly retreated when Merida slapped his hand.

“There will be no goodwill in this house if you keep sneaking food! You have to wait until all of our guests arrive.”

A sigh tinged with frustration escaped him. “I fail to see why we all need to starve because Carrick is late... again.”

“Technically, he’s not late,” Olivia advised.

“She’s right,” Merida agreed. “It’s only seven-fifty, and dinner starts at eight. They have ten minutes before we can declare them late.”  

Ethan turned to her with astonishment. “But I was there when you told him to be here at seven!”

“Yes,” Merida said matter-of-factly. “I told him that to ensure they’d be here by eight.”

“But since it's Tobias and Casey we're talking about,” Bryce interjected. “You probably should have told them six."

"True," Olivia nodded, biting into a fluffy cheese puff. “Knowing Casey, she’ll want to redo her hair and makeup.”

Ethan raised his eyebrows in disbelief as Merida smiled. “What?” she asked.

“Olivia is eating a cheese puff and not an ounce of chastisement from you... but I sneak a sliver of sausage, and you considered dismemberment!”

“Ethan...Olivia is a guest! Besides, she’s too cute to dismember.”

The doorbell rang, and the friends looked at their phones at 7:58 PM.

“Wow! They’re early!” Bryce exclaimed. “And they say Christmas miracles are a thing of the past!”

“Great,” Merida laughed as she wiped her hands with a dish towel. “That means they probably didn’t get it all out of their systems, and they’ll be horny on main all night.”  

“And that would be different from every other time... how?” Bryce laughed. 

Merida scurried down the hallway, high heels clicking, but her irritated boyfriend beat her to the door, swinging it open to find Tobias planting kisses on a giggling Casey’s neck.

“Do you two ever stop?”

“What?” Tobias protested with a sheepish grin. “We weren’t doing anything. We were just stuck in....”

“TRAFFIC!” The four friends shouted.

“That is what they call it these days,” Olivia winked, all too proud of herself.  "Aren't they?"

“Hey! You can’t blame us,” Casey said, tossing her fuzzy coat over Ethan’s unextended arm. “Boston is just filled with traffic!”

“Mmmhmmm,” Merida greeted her friend with a warm embrace. “And you two are always without GPS.”

“That’s right,” Casey smiled. “We prefer to go by... feel.”

“Can we send them home now?” Ethan groaned.

But Merida and Casey were already halfway down the hall, linked arm-in-arm and giggling like schoolgirls. Ethan jumped when Tobias’s hand landed on his shoulder with a thud.

“You were saying, buddy?”

Running a hand down his face, Ethan surrendered. “Olivia is right. I’m outnumbered.”

Moments later, the couples were assembled around the kitchen table, with wine generously poured. Ethan happily partook in cured meats as he endured one too many jokes about salami from his best-freinemy.

“Tobias, I swear, you never escaped adolescence.”

“Was that something we were supposed to escape?”

Bryce raised his glass with a smile. “Only during working hours!”

“And these are not working hours,” Merida gleefully stated. “A toast... to friends, who have become family.”

“And by family, she means you’re inescapable!” Ethan grinned.

“Just like adolescence,” Casey beamed, clinking her glass with the others.

Merida set her eyes on Ethan’s, a radiant smile on her lips. “And would you have it any other way?”

Wrapping his arm around her waist he pulled her close. "No," he beamed. "Despite each of you, save Olivia, causing me more grey hairs by the moment... I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Several drinks in, you know they started teasing Tobias about his "Ho-Ho-Ho" sweater. Everyone except Olivia, who wasn't sure what they meant until Bryce whispered it in her ear. Merida and Casey quickly agreed to corrupt the poor dear much more before their New Year's Eve gathering!

Happy Holidays! :)

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanart @openheartfanfics

@choicesholidays "I'm Thankful for You"

@choicesdecember2023 Christmas

Tagging others separately.

[fruitymarcy]

I want another Sega console so bad, the Dreamcast was so revolutionary and imagining what Sega could do with a new console nowadays is awesome to think about. Reminder, the Dreamcast was super powerful for its time and had the first real online play of any console. It had classics from the Sonic Adventure games to Crazy Taxi to Jet Set Radio. Sega pulled out all the stops for the Dreamcast and it’s a shame they couldn’t recover trust from fans

That’s really the biggest thing I think, Sega fans had watched them fail with the Saturn and decided to switch to the new PlayStation, and instead of getting a Dreamcast many just waited for the PlayStation 2. It’s sad because you can tell Sega really tried and the developers worked hard to deliver experiences that would wow players. And they did! They wowed those who played and the console did well enough early on, but the incoming PlayStation 2 meant so many people just waited for that. And Sega wasn’t gonna win over any new fans with how the Saturn had failed, so they couldn’t really cut into Nintendo’s player base anymore, and that was how they briefly became king with the Genesis. So really no matter how hard Sega tried with the Dreamcast it was doomed in a lot of ways from the get go. Maybe they could’ve done better but I don’t see a world where they won in that landscape where they’d already lost so many fans

With Sonic’s recent astronomic rise in popularity from the movies to Frontiers to the IDW comics—I think Sega could make a console comeback if they wanted to. Especially given how the PlayStation 5 and Xbox Series X, as much as I love the ps5 I gotta admit, these consoles, they don’t have many exclusive games. They’ve got a few but even then many are cross generational. God of War Ragnarok, Spider-Man Miles Morales, Halo Infinite—these games are playable on ps4 or Xbox One and so many fans are disappointed in Sony and Microsoft’s output of exclusives because of that

And while Nintendo is flourishing with the Switch it’s important to consider that if Sega made a comeback they probably wouldn’t want to COMPETE with Nintendo, moreso win over their fans without asking them to abandon Nintendo entirely. Back in the day it was “Genesis does what Nintendon’t” but I think now with how many people are willing to buy multiple consoles for games, Sega would rather compete with PlayStation and Xbox than Nintendo. Just ask Nintendo fans to buy a Sega console in ADDITION to the Switch, and go after the others instead. Nintendo is on top right now. PlayStation, while doing fine, is far from their peak and are losing goodwill with fans. Then you see Xbox which is struggling to convince people to buy their consoles and have decided to just sell their games on pc too since Microsoft owns Windows anyway…which while it’s good for someone like me who has a gaming pc and no Xbox, it’s not the best business model to keep people buying Xbox consoles

All of that is to say that I think Sega could make a console comeback if they made a competitively priced console with a bit more power then PlayStation 5 and Xbox Series X, and invested heavily into creating games that will wow people again. Like, Sonic Frontiers is great but if they wanted to make a new console they’d need to give Sonic Team a much larger budget and team to create an experience that will feel truly next gen. And that would go for every title, the games Sega released would need to be impressive. They’d need a console at around the same price and as powerful as their competitors while simultaneously delivering better games in popular franchises and creating new game series as well

I don’t see Sega making a new console anytime soon. But if they did I think they’d have a chance. However, I think their best chance at a console comeback is to wait. Take Sonic Frontiers, Yakuza: Like a Dragon, Super Monkey Ball: Banana Mania—take these successes and build upon them. Make better and better games, which yes means investing more money into them, and they’d not only make a better return (which could help fund a return to the console space) but also would make fans happy with Sega again and make new fans as well!

Sonic Frontiers’s sales numbers aren’t out yet for the United States as of writing this. Bur we have Japan’s numbers, and in Japan it did better than any Sonic game since 2001. The best selling Sonic game in TWENTY YEARS. And that’s because Sonic Team put in the effort and Sega let them delay the game by a year to better the experience. The thing is Sonic is doing great and Sega is doing better overall than before at delivering quality content for game series in general. They could make a comeback, whether soon or far into the future. I really think they could do it

Sorry for this long ramble, I’m a big Sonic and Sega fangirl lol. If anyone’s read all the way to the bottom I appreciate that, and I’d love to hear your thoughts in the reblogs or replies!

[rainsmediaradio]

Joseph Prince Daily Devotional 11th January 2024 – Bold As a Lion.

Joseph Prince Daily Devotional

The topic of Joseph Prince Devotional for 11th January 2024 Is “Bold As a Lion”

Scripture: Proverbs 19:12 The king’s wrath is like the roaring of a lion, but his favor is like dew on the grass.

DAILY GRACE INSPIRATION 11TH JANUARY 2024,

Today, we are beneficiaries of God’s favor because His wrath against our sins has already been completely satisfied at Calvary. In Hebrew, the word used for “favor” is ratsown, which means His pleasure, delight, goodwill, and acceptance. Our place of protection was purchased with the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ. In Him, we have been made righteous, and all the blessings of the righteous, including protection, provision, and length of days, are our inheritance. That’s the place we are in today. Isn’t that beautiful? No wonder the Scriptures tell us, “The wicked flee when no one pursues, but the righteous are bold as a lion” (Prov. 28:1). It also tells us, “The effective, fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much” (James 5:16). A righteous man (or woman) is who you are in Christ, and when you pray the prayer of protection in Psalm 91, your prayers avail much for God answers your prayers! I received a testimony of God’s divine protection from Sally, who lives in South Africa. Be encouraged as you read how she prayed for protection knowing that she is righteous in Christ: I was driving a rented car when I heard a loud bang. Within moments, the car was on fire. I immediately switched off the engine to get out. But to my horror, I could not remove the seat belt or open the door! I was stuck. Finally, I managed to get the door opened. By then, the flames were threatening to come inside the car and I had to close the door again because I was trapped by the seat belt. I called out to Abba Father and just declared, “I am Your righteousness. You are the only One who can save me!” As those words were echoing in my ears and heart, I heard a click as the seat belt was released. I dashed out of the car. When the fire department arrived, they were able to stop the blaze. I praise the Lord for delivering me safely out of this dangerous situation! I realized that the devil has long been defeated and we don’t have to fear anything anymore. Praise the Lord for His deliverance and protection. I rejoice that we are shielded from danger because of the righteousness we have in Christ! Read the full article

[renaissanceclassics]

The Pilgrim’s Progress: Part 3

Listen to: THE SECOND STAGE, at Renaissance Classics Podcast.

Then did Christian address himself to go back; and Evangelist, after he had kissed him, gave him one smile, and bid him God speed; So he went on with haste, neither spake he to any man by the way; nor if any asked him, would he vouchsafe them an answer. He went like one that was all the while treading on forbidden ground, and could by no means think himself safe, till again he was got into the way which he had left to follow Mr. Worldly Wiseman’s counsel. So, in process of time, Christian got up to the gate. Now, over the gate there was written, “Knock, and it shall be opened unto you.” Matt. 7:7. He knocked, therefore, more than once or twice, saying,

“May I now enter here? Will he within Open to sorry me, though I have been An undeserving rebel? Then shall I Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high.”

At last there came a grave person to the gate, named Goodwill, who asked who was there, and whence he came, and what he would have. CHRISTIAN: Here is a poor burdened sinner. I come from the city of Destruction, but am going to Mount Zion, that I may be delivered from the wrath to come; I would therefore, sir, since I am informed that by this gate is the way thither, know if you are willing to let me in. GOODWILL: I am willing with all my heart, said he; and with that he opened the gate. So when Christian was stepping in, the other gave him a pull. Then said Christian, What means that? The other told him, A little distance from this gate there is erected a strong castle, of which Beelzebub is the captain: from thence both he and they that are with him, shoot arrows at those that come up to this gate, if haply they may die before they can enter in. Then said Christian, I rejoice and tremble. So when he was got in, the man of the Gate asked him who directed him thither. CHRISTIAN: Evangelist bid me come hither and knock, as I did: and he said, that you, sir, would tell me what I must do. GOODWILL: An open door is set before thee, and no man can shut it. CHRISTIAN: Now I begin to reap the benefits of my hazards. GOODWILL: But how is it that you came alone? CHRISTIAN: Because none of my neighbors saw their danger as I saw mine. GOODWILL: Did any of them know of your coming? CHRISTIAN: Yes, my wife and children saw me at the first, and called after me to turn again: also, some of my neighbors stood crying and calling after me to return; but I put my fingers in my ears, and so came on my way. GOODWILL: But did none of them follow you, to persuade you to go back? CHRISTIAN: Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable; but when they saw that they could not prevail, Obstinate went railing back; but Pliable came with me a little way. GOODWILL: But why did he not come through? CHRISTIAN: We indeed came both together until we came to the Slough of Despond, into the which we also suddenly fell. And then was my neighbor Pliable discouraged, and would not venture farther. Wherefore, getting out again on the side next to his own house, he told me I should possess the brave country alone for him: so he went his way, and I came mine; he after Obstinate, and I to this gate. GOODWILL: Then said Goodwill, Alas, poor man; is the celestial glory of so little esteem with him, that he counteth it not worth running the hazard of a few difficulties to obtain it? CHRISTIAN: Truly, said Christian, I have said the truth of Pliable; and if I should also say all the truth of myself, it will appear there is no betterment betwixt him and myself. It is true, he went back to his own house, but I also turned aside to go in the way of death, being persuaded thereto by the carnal arguments of one Mr. Worldly Wiseman. GOODWILL: Oh, did he light upon you? What, he would have had you have seek for ease at the hands of Mr. Legality! They are both of them a very cheat. But did you take his counsel? CHRISTIAN: Yes, as far as I durst. I went to find out Mr. Legality, until I thought that the mountain that stands by his house would have fallen upon my head; wherefore there I was forced to stop. GOODWILL: That mountain has been the death of many, and will be the death of many more: it is well you escaped being by it dashed in pieces. CHRISTIAN: Why truly I do not know what had become of me there, had not Evangelist happily met me again as I was musing in the midst of my dumps; but it was God’s mercy that he came to me again, for else I had never come hither. But now I am come, such a one as I am, more fit indeed for death by that mountain, than thus to stand talking with my Lord. But O, what a favor is this to me, that yet I am admitted entrance here! GOODWILL: We make no objections against any, notwithstanding all that they have done before they come hither; they in no wise are cast out. John 6:37. And therefore good Christian, come a little way with me, and I will teach thee about the way thou must go. Look before thee; dost thou see this narrow way? That is the way thou must go. It was cast up by the patriarchs, prophets, Christ, and his apostles, and it is as strait as a rule can make it; this is the way thou must go. CHRISTIAN: But, said Christian, are there no turnings nor windings, by which a stranger may lose his way? GOODWILL: Yes, there are many ways butt down upon this, and they are crooked and wide: but thus thou mayest distinguish the right from the wrong, the right only being strait and narrow. Matt. 7:14. Then I saw in my dream, that Christian asked him further, if he could not help him off with his burden that was upon his back. For as yet he had not got rid thereof; nor could he by any means get it off without help. He told him, “As to thy burden, be content to bear it until thou comest to the place of deliverance; for there it will fall from thy back of itself.” Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his journey. So the other told him, that by that he was gone some distance from the gate, he would come to the house of the Interpreter, at whose door he should knock, and he would show him excellent things. Then Christian took his leave of his friend, and he again bid him God speed. Then he went on till he came at the house of the Interpreter, where he knocked over and over. At last one came to the door, and asked who was there. CHRISTIAN: Sir, here is a traveller, who was bid by an acquaintance of the good man of this house to call here for my profit; I would therefore speak with the master of the house. So he called for the master of the house, who, after a little time, came to Christian, and asked him what he would have. CHRISTIAN: Sir, said Christian, I am a man that am come from the city of Destruction, and am going to the Mount Zion; and I was told by the man that stands at the gate at the head of this way, that if I called here you would show me excellent things, such as would be helpful to me on my journey. INTERPRETER: Then said Interpreter, Come in; I will show thee that which will be profitable to thee. So he commanded his man to light the candle, and bid Christian follow him; so he had him into a private room, and bid his man open a door; the which when he had done, Christian saw the picture a very grave person hang up against the wall; and this was the fashion of it: It had eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of books in his hand, the law of truth was written upon its lips, the world was behind its back; it stood as if it pleaded with men, and a crown of gold did hang over its head. CHRISTIAN: Then said Christian, What means this? INTERPRETER: The man whose picture this is, is one of a thousand: he can beget children, 1 Cor. 4:15, travail in birth with children, Gal. 4:19, and nurse them himself when they are born. And whereas thou seest him with his eyes lift up to heaven, the best of books in his hand, and the law of truth writ on his lips: it is to show thee, that his work is to know, and unfold dark things to sinners; even as also thou seest him stand as if he pleaded with men. And whereas thou seest the world as cast behind him, and that a crown hangs over his head; that is to show thee, that slighting and despising the things that are present, for the love that he hath to his Master’s service, he is sure in the world that comes next, to have glory for his reward. Now, said the Interpreter, I have showed thee this picture first, because the man whose picture this is, is the only man whom the Lord of the place whither thou art going hath authorized to be thy guide in all difficult places thou mayest meet with in the way: wherefore take good heed to what I have showed thee, and bear well in thy mind what thou hast seen, lest in thy journey thou meet with some that pretend to lead thee right, but their way goes down to death. Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a very large parlor that was full of dust, because never swept; the which after he had reviewed it a little while, the Interpreter called for a man to sweep. Now, when he began to sweep, the dust began so abundantly to fly about, that Christian had almost therewith been choked. Then said the Interpreter to a damsel that stood by, “Bring hither water, and sprinkle the room;” the which when she had done, it was swept and cleansed with pleasure. CHRISTIAN: Then said Christian, What means this? INTERPRETER: The Interpreter answered, This parlor is the heart of a man that was never sanctified by the sweet grace of the Gospel. The dust is his original sin, and inward corruptions, that have defiled the whole man. He that began to sweep at first, is the law; but she that brought water, and did sprinkle it, is the Gospel. Now whereas thou sawest, that so soon as the first began to sweep, the dust did so fly about that the room by him could not be cleansed, but that thou wast almost choked therewith; this is to show thee, that the law, instead of cleansing the heart (by its working) from sin, doth revive, Rom. 7:9, put strength into, 1 Cor. 15:56, and increase it in the soul, Rom. 5:20, even as it doth discover and forbid it; for it doth not give power to subdue. Again, as thou sawest the damsel sprinkle the room with water, upon which it was cleansed with pleasure, this is to show thee, that when the Gospel comes in the sweet and precious influences thereof to the heart, then, I say, even as thou sawest the damsel lay the dust by sprinkling the floor with water, so is sin vanquished and subdued, and the soul made clean, through the faith of it, and consequently fit for the King of glory to inhabit. John 15:3; Eph. 5:26; Acts 15:9; Rom. 16:25,26. I saw moreover in my dream, that the Interpreter took him by the hand, and had him into a little room, where sat two little children, each one in his chair. The name of the eldest was Passion, and the name of the other Patience. Passion seemed to be much disconted, but Patience was very quiet. Then Christian asked, “What is the reason of the discontent of Passion?” The Interpreter answered, “The governor of them would have him stay for his best things till the beginning of the next year, but he will have all now; but Patience is willing to wait.” Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought him a bag of treasure, and poured it down at his feet: the which he took up, and rejoiced therein, and withal laughed Patience to scorn. But I beheld but a while, and he had lavished all away, and had nothing left him but rags. CHRISTIAN: Then said Christian to the Interpreter, Expound this matter more fully to me. INTERPRETER: So he said, These two lads are figures; Passion of the men of this world, and Patience of the men of that which is to come; for, as here thou seest, passion will have all now, this year, that is to say, in this world; so are the men of this world: They must have all their good things now; they cannot stay till the next year, that is, until the next world, for their portion of good. That proverb, “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” is of more authority with them than are all the divine testimonies of the good of the world to come. But as thou sawest that he had quickly lavished all away, and had presently left him nothing but rags, so will it be with all such men at the end of this world. CHRISTIAN: Then said Christian, Now I see that Patience has the best wisdom, and that upon many accounts. 1. Because he stays for the best things. 2. And also because he will have the glory of his, when the other has nothing but rags. INTERPRETER: Nay, you may add another, to wit, the glory of the next world will never wear out; but these are suddenly gone. Therefore Passion had not so much reason to laugh at Patience because he had his good things first, as Patience will have to laugh at Passion because he had his best things last; for first must give place to last, because last must have his time to come: but last gives place to nothing, for there is not another to succeed. He, therefore, that hath his portion first, must needs have a time to spend it; but he that hath his portion last, must have it lastingly: therefore it is said of Dives, “In thy lifetime thou receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things; but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented.” Luke 16:25. CHRISTIAN: Then I perceive it is not best to cover things that are now, but to wait for things to come. INTERPRETER: You say truth: for the things that are seen are temporal, but the things that are not seen are eternal. 2 Cor. 4:18. But though this be so, yet since things present and our fleshly appetite are such near neighbors one to another; and again, because things to come and carnal sense are such strangers one to another; therefore it is, that the first of these so suddenly fall into amity, and that distance is so continued between the second. Then I saw in my dream, that the Interpreter took Christian by the hand, and led him into a place where was a fire burning against a wall, and one standing by it, always casting much water upon it, to quench it; yet did the fire burn higher and hotter. Then said Christian, What means this? The Interpreter answered, This fire is the work of grace that is wrought in the heart; he that casts water upon it, to extinguish and put it out, is the devil: but in that thou seest the fire, notwithstanding, burn higher and hotter, thou shalt also see the reason of that. So he had him about to the back side of the wall, where he saw a man with a vessel of oil in his hand, of the which he did also continually cast (but secretly) into the fire. Then said Christian, What means this? The Interpreter answered, This is Christ, who continually, with the oil of his grace, maintains the work already begun in the heart; by the means of which, notwithstanding what the devil can do, the souls of his people prove gracious still. 2 Cor. 12:9. And in that thou sawest that the man stood behind the wall to maintain the fire; this is to teach thee, that it is hard for the tempted to see how this work of grace is maintained in the soul. I saw also, that the Interpreter took him again by the hand, and led him into a pleasant place, where was built a stately palace, beautiful to behold; at the sight of which Christian was greatly delighted. He saw also upon the top thereof certain persons walking, who were clothed all in gold. Then said Christian may we go in thither? Then the Interpreter took him, and led him up towards the door of the palace; and behold, at the door stood a great company of men, as desirous to go in, but durst not. There also sat a man at a little distance from the door, at a table-side, with a book and his inkhorn before him, to take the names of them that should enter therein; he saw also that in the doorway stood many men in armor to keep it, being resolved to do to the men that would enter, what hurt and mischief they could. Now was Christian somewhat in amaze. At last, when every man started back for fear of the armed men, Christian saw a man of a very stout countenance come up to the man that sat there to write, saying, “Set down my name, sir;” the which when he had done, he saw the man draw his sword, and put a helmet on his head, and rush towards the door upon the armed men, who laid upon him with deadly force; but the man, not at all discouraged, fell to cutting and hacking most fiercely. So after he had received and given many wounds to those that attempted to keep him out, Matt. 11:12; Acts 14:22; he cut his way through them all, and pressed forward into the palace; at which there was a pleasant voice heard from those that were within, even of those that walked upon the top of the palace, saying, “Come in, come in, Eternal glory thou shalt win.” So he went in, and was clothed with such garments as they. Then Christian smiled, and said, I think verily I know the meaning of this. Now, said Christian, let me go hence. Nay, stay, said the Interpreter, till I have showed thee a little more, and after that thou shalt go on thy way. So he took him by the hand again, and led him into a very dark room, where there sat a man in an iron cage. Now the man, to look on, seemed very sad; he sat with his eyes looking down to the ground, his hands folded together, and he sighed as if he would break his heart. Then said Christian, What means this? At which the Interpreter bid him talk with the man. Then said Christian to the man, What art thou? The man answered, I am what I was not once. CHRISTIAN: What wast thou once? THE MAN: The man said, I was once a fair and flourishing professor, Luke 8:13, both in mine own eyes, and also in the eyes of others: I once was, as I thought, fair for the celestial city, and had then even joy at the thoughts that I should get thither. CHRISTIAN: Well, but what art thou now? THE MAN: I am now a man of despair, and am shut up in it, as in this iron cage. I cannot get out; Oh now I cannot! CHRISTIAN: But how camest thou into this condition? THE MAN: I left off to watch and be sober: I laid the reins upon the neck of my lusts; I sinned against the light of the word, and the goodness of God; I have grieved the Spirit, and he is gone; I tempted the devil, and he is come to me; I have provoked God to anger, and he has left me: I have so hardened my heart, that I cannot repent. Then said Christian to the Interpreter, But is there no hope for such a man as this? Ask him, said the Interpreter. CHRISTIAN: Then said Christian, Is there no hope, but you must be kept in the iron cage of despair? THE MAN: No, none at all. CHRISTIAN: Why, the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful. THE MAN: I have crucified him to myself afresh, Heb. 6:6; I have despised his person, Luke 19:14; I have despised his righteousness; I have counted his blood an unholy thing; I have done despite to the spirit of grace, Heb. 10:29: therefore I have shut myself out of all the promises and there now remains to me nothing but threatenings, dreadful threatenings, faithful threatenings of certain judgment and fiery indignation, which shall devour me as an adversary. CHRISTIAN: For what did you bring yourself into this condition? THE MAN: For the lusts, pleasures, and profits of this world; in the enjoyment of which I did then promise myself much delight: but now every one of those things also bite me, and gnaw me like a burning worm. CHRISTIAN: But canst thou not now repent and turn? THE MAN: God hath denied me repentance. His word gives me no encouragement to believe; yea, himself hath shut me up in this iron cage: nor can all the men in the world let me out. Oh eternity! eternity! how shall I grapple with the misery that I must meet with in eternity? INTERPRETER: Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Let this man’s misery be remembered by thee, and be an everlasting caution to thee. CHRISTIAN: Well, said Christian, this is fearful! God help me to watch and to be sober, and to pray that I may shun the cause of this man’s misery. Sir, is it not time for me to go on my way now? INTERPRETER: Tarry till I shall show thee one thing more, and then thou shalt go on thy way. So he took Christian by the hand again and led him into a chamber where there was one rising out of bed; and as he put on his raiment, he shook and trembled. Then said Christian, Why doth this man thus tremble? The Interpreter then bid him tell to Christian the reason of his so doing. So he began, and said, “This night, as I was in my sleep, I dreamed, and behold the heavens grew exceeding black; also it thundered and lightened in most fearful wise, that it put me into an agony. So I looked up in my dream, and saw the clouds rack at an unusual rate; upon which I heard a great sound of a trumpet, and saw also a man sitting upon a cloud, attended with the thousands of heaven: they were all in flaming fire; also the heavens were in a burning flame. I heard then a voice, saying, ‘Arise, ye dead, and come to judgment.’ And with that the rocks rent, the graves opened, and the dead that were therein came forth: some of them were exceeding glad, and looked upward; and some sought to hide themselves under the mountains. Then I saw the man that sat upon the cloud open the book, and bid the world draw near. Yet there was, by reason of a fierce flame that issued out and came from before him, a convenient distance between him and them, as between the judge and the prisoners at the bar. 1 Cor. 15; 1 Thess. 4:16; Jude 15; John 5: 28,29; 2 Thess. 1:8-10; Rev. 20:11-14; Isa. 26:21; Micah 7:16,17; Psa. 5:4; 50:1-3; Mal. 3:2,3; Dan. 7:9,10. I heard it also proclaimed to them that attended on the man that sat on the cloud, ‘Gather together the tares, the chaff, and stubble, and cast them into the burning lake.’ Matt. 3:12; 18:30; 24:30; Mal. 4:1. And with that the bottomless pit opened, just whereabout I stood; out of the mouth of which there came, in an abundant manner, smoke, and coals of fire, with hideous noises. It was also said to the same persons, ‘Gather my wheat into the garner.’ Luke 3:17. And with that I saw many catched up and carried away into the clouds, but I was left behind. 1 Thess. 4:16,17. I also sought to hide myself, but I could not, for the man that sat upon the cloud still kept his eye upon me; my sins also came into my mind, and my conscience did accuse me on every side. Rom. 2:14,15. Upon this I awakened from my sleep.” CHRISTIAN: But what was it that made you so afraid of this sight? THE MAN: Why, I thought that the day of judgment was come, and that I was not ready for it: but this frightened me most, that the angels gathered up several, and left me behind; also the pit of hell opened her mouth just where I stood. My conscience too afflicted me; and, as I thought, the Judge had always his eye upon me, showing indignation in his countenance. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, “Hast thou considered all these things?” CHRISTIAN: Yes, and they put me in hope and fear. INTERPRETER: Well, keep all things so in thy mind, that they may be as a goad in thy sides, to prick thee forward in the way thou must go. Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his journey. Then said the Interpreter, “The Comforter be always with thee, good Christian, to guide thee in the way that leads to the city.” So Christian went on his way, saying,

“Here I have seen things rare and profitable, Things pleasant, dreadful, things to make me stable In what I have begun to take in hand: Then let me think on them, and understand Wherefore they showed me were, and let me be Thankful, O good Interpreter, to thee.”

[pooma-bible]

END OF NEGOTIATION

Scripture Reading: Exodus 10

Then Pharaoh said to him, “Get away from me! Take heed to yourself and see my face no more! For in the day you see my face you shall die!” So Moses said, “You have spoken well. I will never see your face again.” Exodus 10:28–29

Pharaoh brought the negotiations with Moses to an end. He signaled that nothing had changed from his initial position. He remained where he had stood from day one. He would not voluntarily allow the Israelites to leave his land. In spite of the pressure on him, from his people and his court advisors, and in spite of the mounting severity of the plagues, he could not bring himself to grant the demands of Israel’s God. Pharaoh addressed Moses with a threat containing three clauses:

• Get away from me. We can imagine the vehemence with which Pharaoh uttered those words. He might have spoken with unmistakable finality.

• See my face no more. He did not want to meet Moses again. The negotiations were over, and the case was closed, as far as he was concerned. There would be no further discussions.

• The day you see me, you shall die. This was a direct threat to Moses. It signaled the end of all goodwill. It was not a modest threat, but one that was underscored with the strongest possible warning, that Moses would be put to death if he came back again.

It is important to note that Pharaoh was the one who ended the negotiation, not God. The consequences were, therefore, Pharaoh’s.

Moses’ reply could be translated as follows: “you’ve said the very thing! I will not keep seeing your face!” The force of his reply, in other words, was to tell Pharaoh that Pharaoh himself had essentially predicted the future.

In his anger, Pharaoh predicted his own doom. He spoke words that would destroy him and his people. Sadly, sometimes we allow our stubbornness to lead us into self-destruction. Sometimes parents allow their stubbornness to destroy their relationship with their children; and vice versa. Couples do the same and ruin relationships that could be redeemed. Business partners allow their pride to derail their enterprises. May the Lord help us not to be like Pharaoh.

Prayer: Heavenly Father, deliver me from self-destruction resulting from my self-will and stubbornness. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

[sxlver-sweet]

Please i'm begging youu i want to see more fantasy au for tokrev and that pirate would be so good i even have some idess on me already 😩

–🎴

I HAD A FUCKING FIELD DAY WITH THIS I WANNA HEAR YOUR IDEAS PLS SHARE

i’m currently sleep-deprived, so some of these are probably really basic and there’s most likely errors somewhere in here skdkcmdksk

also, requests may be closed, but discussions and more ideas are absolutely welcome.

faerie!kokonoi, who preys on the heartbroken drunkards at upscale bars, listening with a secretive smile as they spill their life stories to the bartender. silver-tongued and clever, kokonoi purrs his condolences, slipping their name into the conversation with ease and feigning oblivion when they, cloudy-eyed and ignorant, hand over their precious bank information and the locations of their valuables.

tailor!mitsuya unable to concentrate on stitching up a torn dress with the incessant clanging in the background and snapping at blacksmith!pah-chin, who’s busy forging knight!baji a new sword. mitsuya chastises baji for being so careless, but all baji does is grumble and turn away, black oil and dirt smeared on his flushed cheeks and long hair clinging to his sweat-stained forehead from his previous sparring session.

wizard!mitsuya spinning golems out of clay and shooing them away with an order to find him more materials to craft matching cloaks for his newest apprentices, luna and mana.

leprechaun!nahoya luring unsuspecting villagers into the forest with the promise of gold coins, only to send branches crashing down onto their heads when they venture far enough. they shout irately and scramble after him as he tumbles, laughing, into the shadows… but it’s no use. he’s too fast.

mermaid!yuzuha punching the shit out of pirates and dragging them down from their ships when they disturb and/or hunt the peaceful merfolk

knight!draken pledging his life to princess!emma

werewolf!baji, who appears to casually laugh off questions about his sharp, prominent canines; when in reality, when he’s secretly sweating bullets. werewolf!baji, whom the others wrinkle their noses at and tease when he orders his steak rare. werewolf!baji, who can’t hide the particularly ferocious, almost predatory glint in his eye that only appears during brawls after the sun has fallen. everyone laughs it off, mistaking his bloodlust for adrenaline. it’s only baji, he’s just intense, they reason.

half-blood!takemichi, who leaps through time with the protective blood of a phoenix coursing through his veins. half-blood!takemichi, whose blood aids him in resisting the beckon of death that pries at the empty body he habitually leaves behind and enables him to keep rising back to his feet no matter who knocks him down.

dybbuk!shinichiro, whose rage inhabits mikey’s body, only flaring to aid in crushing kazutora beneath his little brother’s fist. dybbuk!shinichiro, who plucks away at mikey’s sanity day in and day out, demanding for his death to be avenged. dybbuk!shinichiro, who is the reason that mikey can no longer set foot in his bike shop, because no matter how hard he tries, mikey can’t seem to shut out the eerie groaning of forgotten bikes as they rust away or the crackling squelch of metal colliding with bone that he’s positive he’s never heard before—so why is he hearing it now?

executioner!kazutora, who has no problem with the unjust slaughters that tyrant!kisaki approves, because his unchecked guilt can only be satiated by “cleansing the kingdom of immoral souls.” executioner!kazutora, who hums a crude tavern song as he takes his sweet time lining up his blade with the neck of the shivering woman hunched before him—the shivering woman whose only crime is swiping some bread to feed her starving family. executioner!kazutora, who only finds retribution in the twisted cycle of playing the role of god’s “divine” axe.

knight!toman forming a wall in front of their king to square off against an approaching army, a measly one hundred men with fire in their eyes and swords dripping with blood—a measly one hundred men fully prepared to offer up their lives to protect king!mikey.

jester!hanma, who flirts with the women of the court and openly takes cheap shots at tyrant!kisaki, regardless of whether or not he’s in the vicinity. still, it doesn’t matter how humorous the joke is. no one dares to allow even a twitch of their lips. how hanma hasn’t been executed yet, they don’t know.

pirate!nahoya, who cackles like a madman and jeers at an opposing ship from his place perched atop the crow’s nest

apothecary!souya meeting his future s/o in a field of lavender while he’s searching for fresh herbs. apothecary!souya, who’s mortified by the chalky powder spattered on his overalls and runs a hand through his hair, accidentally smearing a yellow dust through his blue curls. apothecary!souya, who blushes when you kindly offer to brush the powder from his hair. apothecary!souya, who offers you one of the dandelions peeking from his pocket as a gesture of gratitude.

ladies-in-waiting!emma and hina scurrying off to deliver empty dishes to cook!mitsuya, who leans forward expectantly to hear the latest gossip when they approach him with sparkling eyes and poorly concealed smiles.

adviser!draken storming into king!mikey’s private chambers without an invitation to shout at him for neglecting his duties and drag him by the ankle out of bed

sorceress!hina enchanting a four-leaf clover necklace with a spell to keep knight!takemichi safe in battle

spymaster!sanzu scaring the shit out of his scribe!s/o whenever he pops up in the windows of the library in all black with no prior warning

doll-maker!izana, who lives in a secluded area of the woods with his apprentice kakucho and obsessively lines his shelves with replicas of the older brother he wishes he had

knight-in-training!chifuyu working extra hard to impress knight!baji, who had recruited him and taken him under his wing

steampunk inventor!chifuyu, who’s never seen without his trademark goggles that kazutora always pokes fun at and threadbare overalls splattered with oil stains. inventor!chifuyu, who nearly has a heart attack when baji hobbles in on one leg, grinning at him with a face swollen with bruises while waving his detached prosthetic leg in greeting. inventor!chifuyu, who keeps wrenches on his belt specifically to hurl at his idiot friends whenever they come into his shop all beat-up with their bronze prosthetics severely damaged

steampunk!hanma, who has a glass eye with the word “pain” engraved on the iris. steampunk!hanma, who asks kisaki to hold something for him. when the latter holds his hand out with an exasperated sigh, hanma sets his replacement eye in his palm and cackles hysterically when kisaki promptly jolts with disgust and chucks it across the room

cyberpunk!sanzu, who’s already inebriated but continues to drown deeper in the neon lights of the club as he pops an array of glowing pills into his mouth, body numb to the robotic assistants that hum around him and intermingle with the equally delirious crowd in case someone were to collapse from overdosing

masquerade!mitsuya, who smiles at you with such kindness and respect as he guides you onto the marble floor that you immediately resolve to discover his identity at a later date

masquerade!kakucho, who does everything in his power to prevent you from uncovering his identity. masquerade!kakucho, who fears that you’ll be disgusted with his deformed appearance once you see his scar.

samurai!yuzuha, who rescues you from a band of thieves but is perplexed when you insist on repaying her goodwill. samurai!yuzuha, who eventually starts coming to you whenever she needs her wounds bandaged or a home-cooked meal. samurai!yuzuha, who refuses to let you touch her sword with your pure, unsullied hands.

potion-maker!ran, who always despises when rindou barges into his workspace for nothing else than to tip over a couple jars and poke fun at his craft. potion-maker!ran, whose skin and hair have been permanently imprinted with the scent of clove and allspice berries. potion-maker!ran, who concocts love spells and perfumes that grant increased intimacy for the lovesick women who visit him when their own assets aren’t working. potion-maker!ran, who smiles charmingly and calls his female customers “darling.” potion-maker!ran, who has no problem with allowing them to test his products on him in order to guarantee their potency—but only if they’re attractive and have a pretty penny to spare :)

gunslinger!mikey, who almost shoots his big toe off trying to impress the beautiful barmaid across the room

servant!baji, who isn’t the slyest but always makes sure he leaves out a saucer of cream for the stray cats that wander through the town during the night, regardless of how much trouble he gets in. servant!baji, who develops a forbidden bond with his royal!s/o due to their shared love of animals. servant!baji, who is ignorant of the ways of courtship but does his best to flirt with you, however flustered and awkward he may be. servant!baji, who sheepishly seeks advice from his mother about how to impress royalty despite him being unable to offer you any material items.

necromancer!takemichi who doesn’t know wtf is going on and is literally only a necromancer because he fucked up reading a recipe for garlic bread that was written in cursive

vampire!kokonoi, who looks wistfully upon his collection of dusty, old perfume bottles as he recalls how they’d been the most expensive items on the market centuries ago. vampire!kokonoi, who possesses splintered, wooden chests overflowing with outdated currency that will never again be utilized. vampire!kokonoi, who sits for hours and stares at the photo of the young woman that he’s preserved in mint condition for countless years, wondering why he can’t remember who she is

half-blood!mikey, who wonders why his legs are so much stronger than the rest of his body, why he’s always been so much faster than his peers, and why they’re always chock-full of energy. half-blood!mikey, who’s blissfully unaware that the blood of his ancestors is not as it seems. half-blood!mikey, who has zero clue that his lineage marks him a descendant of the minotaur.

farmer!chifuyu, who’s too shy to approach the seamstress’s daughter, so he resigns himself to only admiring her from afar until she makes a move herself. farmer!chifuyu, who’s beyond embarrassed when he accidentally bumps into her, the dirt and grime on his clothing soiling her pristine outfit. farmer!chifuyu, who tries to brush it off, only to panic when the dust on his hands stains the fabric. farmer!chifuyu, who shows up at your mother’s shop the next day to apologize and is nearly chased out due to his kind “not belonging there,” only for you to object and invite him in, claiming that he’s your friend.

jack the ripper!sanzu, who leans up against a dirty brick building with his head low, tongue clicking in rhythm with the slim hands on his golden pocket watch as he decides on his next victim. jack the ripper!sanzu, who dons a simple, shapeless white mask that contrasts sharply with the elaborate feather woven into his top hat. jack the ripper!sanzu, whom others eye skeptically when he skillfully, easily slices his steak into cross-sections with nothing more than a butter knife. jack the ripper!sanzu, who smiles so charmingly at women, basking in their ignorance as he lures them into a sense of false security with a few sweet words. jack the ripper!sanzu, who seals all of his letters documenting his crimes with a lipstick-stained kiss and giggles manically when it smears onto his cheek. jack the ripper!sanzu, who is taken aback when one of his targets whirls on him with anger in their eyes and a knife gripped in their hands, fully prepared to give him a dose of his own medicine.

achilles!izana and patroclus!kakucho. that’s all i have to say. y’all know what’s up👀

soothsayer!takemichi, who’s looked down upon by his fellow prophets because of his frenetic efforts to change the future. while the rest lounge beneath the shade of trees, sweet-smelling smoke curling from their ornate pipes and hazy eyes trailing after people who they know are supposed to die tomorrow, takemichi is doing his best to track them down to warn them of their fate. “he’s just a boy,” the others chuckle, “he won’t make a difference.”

victorian era painter!s/o, who finds seishu inui snoozing beneath a tree and resolves to capture his beauty on a canvas. seishu, who’s well-aware of what you’re doing but decides to let you have your fun. painter s/o, who’s mortified when seishu happens to “wake up” as soon as they sigh with satisfaction and requests to see the picture.

barista!izana, who mixes drugs into his drinks for certain customers while they discreetly slide a handsome wad of cash across the counter

archer!chifuyu, who accidentally spears his superior through the leg while struggling with his bow. archer!chifuyu, who meets kazutora in the dungeons and befriends him during the one night he spends there. archer!chifuyu, who is confused and hesitant when he is abruptly assigned to join the ranks of the prince’s bodyguards. archer!chifuyu, who is white with shock when he sees kazutora stroll into the room, a golden crown balanced atop his head and a wide smile blooming upon his lips when he spots his new friend.

ROBIN HOOD!CHIFUYU

potion-maker!souya, whose face always softens whenever you stop by his shop during your daily mail delivery route. potion-maker!souya, who’s ashamed of himself for having considered exploiting your trust in him and slipping a love potion into your drink. potion-maker!souya, who always offers to make you something befitting the occasion whenever you’re running low on energy, not feeling well, or are nervous about something. potion-maker!souya, who’s too shy to confess his feelings for you.

town crier!nahoya, who sometimes slips a swear word or two into his announcements and prefers to storm the town on horseback, disregarding his elaborate attire. town crier!nahoya, who has definitely snatched you off the street during his routes, leaving you to cling to his sweat-dampened clothes and shout at him for being such an imbecile.

shapeshifter!nahoya, who diligently keeps his eyes closed because he can change everything about his appearance, except for his distinctive eye color.

[queenmarytudor]

MARY: SERIES ONE

When King Henry VIII announces his daughter unable to inherit the crown of England, Princess Mary Tudor and her friends at court rebel and conspire against him.

An imagined six episode psychological drama series, focusing on Princess Mary Tudor and the intrigues, secrets and lies of Henry VIII’s court... 

THE KING’S PEARL

Princess Mary Tudor, Princess of Wales and heir to the throne of England, is at her court in the Welsh Marches. Rhys ap Gruffydd kneels in irons before her; he has been arrested for inciting rebellion and is on the way to the Tower of London. Rhys petitions Mary for help in getting his grandfather’s lands and titles restored to him, as they are his by right and not her stewards, who has been gifted them by the king. Rhys says surely Mary knows what it is like to have an inheritance threatened. Mary promises to help him when she returns to court. Rhys thanks his princess, stating that though his wife is related to the king’s mistress, Anne Boleyn will never be Rhys’ queen.

Mary returns to court for Christmas. All along the streets nobles and peasants alike cheer for their princess before she is welcomed lovingly by her parents King Henry VIII and Queen Katherine of Aragon. 

There is a grand feast; Mary reunites with her father’s cousin Henry Courtenay and his wife Gertrude, one of Katherine’s ladies. She dances with the courtier Nicholas Carew while her parents watch proudly. 

Mary petitions her father to release Rhys from imprisonment in the Tower. The king, delighted to have his pearl back, agrees, but refuses to grant him his grandfather’s lands and titles. The pair decide to go riding together.

On their return, Gertrude escorts Mary to see her mother. She tells Mary her father’s mistress, Anne Boleyn, has just arrived back at court. Katherine introduces Mary to Eustace Chapuys, ambassador to Mary’s cousin Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor. Chapuys promises he will do his best to help her and her mother. Katherine and Chapuys reveal Pope Clement has forbidden the king from marrying Anne, threatening him with excommunication from the church if he does.

After Mass, where the royal family pray together, a freed Rhys seeks out Mary. He thanks her for his release and attempting to get his inheritance back. 

Mary goes to her father’s chambers, where Thomas Cromwell introduces himself as King Henry’s new minister. Mary asks where her father is. When Cromwell replies he is with Anne Boleyn, Mary leaves for the sanctuary of her mother’s rooms. 

Henry Courtenay arrives from parliament, telling Katherine, Mary and Gertrude that the king has now declared himself the Supreme Head of the Church of England. Gertrude tells them she heard of a nun in Kent who can predict the future. Katherine warns her not to do anything foolish. 

On Saint David’s Day, the patron saint of Wales, Mary is given a Welsh leek by the king’s gentlemen pensioners in a grand ceremony. She is watched by a crowd of courtiers and Chapuys, who compliments her. They talk for a while before she leaves. 

Exiting, Mary comes across Anne Boleyn. They glare at each other before Anne reluctantly sinks into a curtsey. Mary ignores her.

Mary plays the virginals for her parents. Despite their praise, there is obvious tension between the pair.

At nightfall Mary and her father talk. Mary is confused how he has declared himself the head of a church that doesn’t exist. Henry says she is clever; one day his pearl will understand. After he has left, Mary tells her governess, Margaret Pole, that she doesn’t think she will ever understand.

Katherine worries when Margaret wakes her in the night to inform her Mary is ill. Gertrude brings up the Nun of Kent again, but Maria Willoughby and Jane Seymour shush her. Katherine goes to help Margaret care for Mary. As Mary continues to vomit, Katherine strokes her daughter’s hair, clutching her necklace which she believes contains a piece of the True Cross. She prays her daughter will get better, comforting her with old stories of her and King Henry when they were younger.

In the morning a recovered Mary wakes to six luxurious new dresses, a gift from her father. She immediately puts one on.  

At breakfast, the queen is sat at the table alone. The king left them earlier in the morning to go on summer progress with Anne Boleyn, forcing most of the courtiers to go with them, including the Courtenay’s. Katherine smiles and tells Mary they can still have a good time, just the two of them and their households.

Reginald, the son of Margaret, is sent money by the king to study in Padua. Katherine and Margaret are hopeful Reginald will convince King Henry to recant his decision to break from Rome and marry a heretic. Reginald promises he will. Mary hugs her cousin goodbye, wishing him well. 

At court, Chapuys watches on with Nicholas Carew and an incensed Gertrude and Henry as Anne Boleyn takes the queen’s role at a feast. While talking, Rhys Gruffydd is publicly re-arrested for encouraging Wales to rebel against the king, and supposedly taking the title of Prince of Wales. The group disbelieve this after what Mary did for him. 

Katherine hears from Maria that Rhys has been beheaded, but she is determined to protect her daughter and keeps the news a secret.

Mary and Katherine go hawking, but on their return are sent orders to separate. Katherine promises she will see Mary soon, encouraging her to stay strong. Any bastard born of Anne Boleyn will never rule; Mary is the heir and future queen of England.  

 PRINCESS OF WALES  

Mary and her tutor Richard Featherstone are having a Latin lesson on Utopia by Sir Thomas More. In the book women are encouraged to fight in battle; Mary tells the priest she would if she could. 

Mary is walking in the fields with her ladies, Susan Clarencius and Anne Hussey, and her cousin Margaret Douglas. Her and Margaret’s cousin Frances Brandon has recently married Henry Grey. Mary is betrothed to the French Dauphin, but she has heard no news lately of a marriage... she is surprised to come across her father, riding with Nicholas. He asks how she is and Mary replies she is well, but missing her mother now she has seen him. The king is going to Calais with Anne Boleyn, now the marquess of Pembroke, but promises to see her more often when he returns.

Gertrude sees the Nun of Kent in disguise, switching clothes with her maid. Amazed at her trance, she invites the woman, Elizabeth Barton, to her house.

Mary is having her breakfast served by her friend Henry Jerningham when she is informed by her chamberlain that her father has, with the blessing of the new Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer, married Anne Boleyn. John Hussey asks for a verbal response to the news for the king, but Mary ignores him entirely, continuing to talk with Henry and her ladies. Uncomfortable, he carries on with his orders; Mary is forbidden from writing to her mother and he must take Mary’s jewels. Margaret refuses to give them up to John unless she has a direct order from the king. 

Gertrude welcomes Elizabeth warmly, asking about her prophecies. The nun says there may be war now the king has married Anne Boleyn; Gertrude asks her to pray her husband will remain safe. It grieves him that men of noble blood are being dismissed from the privy chamber, with the king ruled by Cromwell who is the son of a blacksmith.

That night, Gertrude tells Henry about the nun’s visit, telling him the king will flee the realm one day. Henry is horrified at her listening to the prophecies, potentially earning the wrath of his cousin when he finds out. He demands she tell the king. 

Mary and Margaret Douglas are informed by Margaret that their aunt Mary has died. The pair worry over Frances, but Margaret tells them she has a husband to comfort her now. Mary fears the French accepting Anne Boleyn as queen means her betrothal will be void. The three are interrupted by Mary’s servant Randall Dodd, who delivers a letter passed on by her mother’s servant Anthony. Katherine writes she has “heard such tidings today that I do perceive if it be true, the time is come that Almighty God will prove you; and I am very glad of it, for I trust He doth handle you with a good love [...] But one thing I especially desire you, for the love that you do owe unto God and unto me, to keep your heart with a chaste mind, and your body from all ill and wanton company, not thinking or desiring any husband for Christ’s passion; neither determine yourself to any manner of living till this troublesome time be past.”

Shortly after there is an official command from King Henry to take Mary’s jewels. Her personal arms are stripped from her and her household is to be reduced, with some servants, including Randall Dodd, sent to wait on her new sister Elizabeth, whose christening John Hussey must attend. 

King Henry confronts Gertrude, informing her that he knows she has visited the Nun of Kent. She petitions King Henry to forgive her, blaming her womanly foolishness. He does, and orders his cousin to as well. To show his goodwill towards her, Gertrude is bestowed the honour of becoming Princess Elizabeth’s godmother, but an annoyed Gertrude sees it as an insult.

Mary is playing a card game with her ladies and Henry Jerningham when John returns from the christening and tells Mary she is longer a princess. Mary refuses to accept it and writes to her father, believing he was “not privy to it, not doubting but you take me for your lawful daughter, born in true matrimony.”

In response to her letter the Duke of Norfolk comes to dissemble all her household; Mary is to go to Hatfield to serve her sister Elizabeth, the Princess of Wales. Mary says that title belongs to her by right, and no one else.

Mary is only allowed to take one lady in waiting with her and chooses Susan. Her cousin Margaret Douglas is to serve the new queen. Margaret offers to serve Mary at her own expense, but Norfolk refuses. Mary has an emotional goodbye with her staff. Margaret urges her to remember her grandmother had been declared a bastard before becoming queen of England.

On the way to Hatfield, one of the men escorting Mary whispers she must hold firm, for the sake of England. 

Arriving, Norfolk asks if she will pay her respects to the Princess of Wales. Mary replies she knows of no other princess in England except herself. The daughter of the marquess of Pembroke has no such title - but if her father acknowledges her as his own, she will call her sister as she calls Henry Fitzroy brother.

As he leaves, Norfolk asks if can take a message to the king. Mary says to tell him his daughter, the Princess of Wales, begs for his blessing. When Norfolk refuses, Mary tells him curtly he might leave it then, and to go away and leave her alone. She retires to her bedchamber to cry. 

UNBRIDLED BLOOD

Mary refuses to pay court to Elizabeth unless made to by force. When walking, she is always far in front or far behind the newborn, never at her side. She eats in her own rooms with food Susan steals from the kitchens, avoiding the public table. She has outgrown the ornate dresses her father gave her.

An outraged Gertrude shows Chapuys the letter she has received from the king, telling his subjects that they ought to thank God for giving them a lawful heir. Chapuys reveals he has already sent a Latin declaration for Katherine to sign and pass along to her daughter. 

The king arrives to visit his youngest daughter. Mary is desperate to see her father, but is visited by Norfolk and Cromwell. They urge her to renounce her title, but Mary says it is labour wasted to press her; they are deceived if they think bad treatment, rudeness, or even the chance of death would make her change her determination. She asks to see her father and kiss his hand, but is refused. When they leave, she runs to the terrace at the top of the house and kneels in mercy. The king bows and doffs his cap, as do the men with him, before leaving.  

The Oath of Supremacy and 1534 Act of Succession are both implemented, making Henry VIII Head of the Church of England, and Elizabeth and any other children of Anne Boleyn his heirs. The Courtenay’s are annoyed as queen Anne flaunts her belly; she is pregnant again. 

Mary receives a letter from her mother, which comforts and encourages her, along with the Latin declaration Chapuys spoke of that denies her illegitimacy. She signs it and Susan smuggles it out of Hatfield back to Chapuys. 

John Hussey and his wife Anne are returning home now Mary’s household has been dissolved, but before they go John talks with the Courtenay’s and Chapuys about the possibility of the emperor invading in support of his cousin’s rights. Chapuys says he is trying hard to convince his master. Henry says he wishes he had the opportunity to shed blood in the service of Katherine and Mary. John replies he could easily rise the north of England to help Princess Mary, and “the insurrection of the people would be joined immediately by the nobility and the clergy”. Gertrude reminds them of the prophecies of the Nun of Kent; perhaps there will be war over this... 

When moving households, Mary refuses to share a litter with Elizabeth and is forcibly put in by guards. Roughly manhandled, she shouts a public protest to some peasants who salute and cheer her as princess. Her new caretaker, Anne Shelton, warns Mary her niece queen Anne has ordered her to box Mary’s ears as a cursed bastard when she uses the title of Princess.

After Gertrude informs him of Mary’s abuse, Nicholas pays the king’s fool to insult queen Anne and princess Elizabeth. The king is furious, banishing the jester from court, but Nicholas shelters him in his own home.

A badly bruised Mary hears of Nicholas’ actions and sends a letter of thanks to him via Susan. Shelton summons Mary to visit her, questioning why she has received a letter from Elizabeth Carew, Nicholas’ wife. Elizabeth urges her to submit to the king for the passion of Christ, otherwise she will be undone. Mary pleads ignorance and throws the letter in the fireplace.

As they watch queen Anne and her uncle Norfolk prepare to visit Elizabeth, Jane Seymour tells the Courtenay’s that the queen has had a miscarriage. They fear how she will treat Mary.

As punishment for the litter incident, Norfolk takes Mary’s remaining jewels. He mocks a brooch from her childhood spelling out the Emperor. Mary is furious, even more so when Anne visits her, urging her to honour her as queen and she will reconcile her to her father. Mary says she knows of no queen of England but her mother - but if her father’s mistress would intercede on her behalf, she would be much obliged. An enraged Anne storms out, swearing to bring down her unbridled Spanish blood.

Shelton tells Mary if she were the king she would kick her out of the house for disobedience, and that the king said she will lose her head for breaking the law and not renouncing her title. Seeing Richard Featherstone preparing to leave in the retinue of queen Anne, a quick witted Mary asks him if she can practise her Latin. The people around them do not understand as she asks if the rumours are true and she is to be killed. Richard is shocked, saying it is not good Latin before leaving with the rest of Anne’s entourage. Returning to London, he immediately informs Chapuys of the danger Mary is in. The ambassador is determined to find a way to see her. 

The Nun of Kent is publicly executed, with her head put on a spike on London Bridge. After, the king tells Henry the trust his daughter has in the emperor makes her obstinate, but he fears no one if his vassals stay loyal. He warns his cousin not to trip lest he lose his head. 

WORST ENEMY IN THE WORLD

After she was forced into a litter, Mary asks to ride on her horse when moving households. As soon as she is mounted, she races ahead of her sister’s litter, riding across the countryside to the waiting river barge. Exhilarated by the freedom of her ride, she beats the rest of the household there and takes the place of honour. On the riverbank, Chapuys watches on as Mary sails past. They smile at each other, reassured. 

Shelton wonders how the ambassador knew they would be there. Suspecting Susan of sending messages in and out of the household, she dismisses Mary’s last lady. Mary is completely alone. 

Months have passed; it is now winter. King Henry remains furious at his daughter’s continued defiance, telling his cousin Mary will be an example to show that no one ought to disobey the laws; at the beginning of his reign he was as gentle as a lamb, and by the end he will be worse than a lion. Henry tells his wife.

Gertrude disguises herself to visit Chapuys, saying after the next parliament Mary and Katherine will die. She swears it is as true as the Gospel. Gertrude is adamant they must do something to help save their princess. Chapuys says Katherine spoke to him of Mary marrying Reginald Pole and uniting their claims to the throne. The emperor is busy taking Tunis, but Chapuys believes only a small army sent by Charles V with Reginald amongst the troops would be enough to make people declare for Mary. Gertrude pledges the support of her relatives, but says they need a quicker solution. 

Mary is no longer allowed to eat in her room, but she refuses to eat at the main table and submit to a lower rank then her sister Elizabeth, now a toddler at the head of the table. She is slowly starving. 

After seeing the king talking with Jane Seymour, Gertrude has an idea. She tries to convince Jane to attract the king’s attentions in the hope of getting better treatment for Mary but a haughty Jane refuses. 

Mary is constantly belittled by servants, who say the world will be at peace when they are discharged of the pain and trouble she gives them. She is incensed to hear the French ambassadors are to visit Elizabeth in the hopes of a betrothal. She declares she is the Dauphin’s future wife, not her bastard sister. Shelton orders her to her room, and when Mary refuses she is locked in by force. 

The next morning, a weak Mary discovers she has started her period. Disoriented, she calls out for her mother and Margaret. While getting up, she collapses.  

Shelton weeps, fearing people will think she has poisoned Mary. She tells a bedridden Mary the king will not see her until she admits to being a bastard. He believes she is his worst enemy in the world. Mary sobs but refuses to give in, saying God has not blinded her to confess her father and mother had lived in adultery and made her a bastard.

Chapuys talks to Cromwell and then the king, trying to convince them to let Katherine tend to her daughter. Henry refuses; if mother and daughter are together, Katherine might “raise a number of men and make war, as boldly as did queen Isabella her mother.” He also refuses to send Margaret Pole, who Chapuys calls Mary’s second mother, as she is a fool of no experience. If Mary had been in her care she would have died, but Shelton is an expert in female complaints. 

After queen Anne shows no sympathy for a grievously ill Mary, Jane agrees to help Gertrude. 

Mary is examined by a doctor. She fainted due to her heavy period, in addition to not eating or drinking enough. She is suffering from sorrow. The doctor orders her to eat more and recommends being moved closer to her mother to improve her spirits. Mary knows it will never happen. 

Shelton reveals Sir Thomas More and several monks have been executed for refusing to take the Oath of Supremacy, and Richard Featherstone is now imprisoned in the Tower. She tells Mary to take warning by their fate. Servants openly desire her death, especially now the queen is pregnant again with what is sure to be a son. Mary notices her old servant Randall Dodd does not join in their bullying. Cornering him in private, she convinces him to deliver a letter to Chapuys.

Gertrude leads Jane to Nicholas, and the pair coach her on how to act. Nicholas tell Jane she must by no means comply with any of the King's wishes, except marriage.

Mary watches out of the window as armed guards are stationed at the gates. Randall walks through them, carrying a letter for Charles V urging the emperor to invade. Mary tells him “In the name of the Queen, my mother, and mine, for the honour of God take this matter in hand, and provide a remedy for the affairs of this country; begging you in the meantime not to forget to solicit permission for me to live with my mother.” 

MONSTER IN NATURE  

Chapuys visits a mortally ill Katherine. She worries over her daughter, but he promises to look after her. After Maria Willoughby arrives she is no longer alone and begs Chapuys to go and protect Mary.

Mary is summoned to see Shelton, who informs her of her mother’s death. She is devastated. Shelton implores her to submit, saying she will not receive the necklace her mother left her in her will. Mary replies she would rather die a hundred times than change her opinion, before going to her bedchamber to cry. 

Randall gives a letter to Mary from Chapuys, making plans for her to escape England. The emperor cannot spare any troops, but there is a ship waiting 40 miles away if she can get there. Chapuys says he will write with a plan soon but Mary is convinced she must go at once lest she be killed. 

Chapuys holds a dinner party with the Courtenay’s, Nicholas and Jane. Nicholas has been inducted into the Order of the Garter over George Boleyn. They discuss queen Anne having a quarrel with Cromwell, and rumours of the king wanting a new wife. Gertrude advises Jane to tell the king his subjects hate his marriage, and no one considers it legitimate. A messenger arrives for Jane from the king, with a letter and a purse of money. All watch on with approval as Jane sends it back, saying she can only accept a gift of money from the king when he makes her an honourable match. Chapuys hopes the progress of their scheme will mean Mary will not need to flee - he tells them “she is so eager to escape from all her troubles and dangers that if he were to advise her to cross the Channel in a sieve she would do it.” 

In turmoil, a grieving Mary takes matters into her own hands. While playing with Elizabeth she tests the strength of the garden gate, noting where Shelton’s window looks out. Returning to the house, she tells the doctor she can’t sleep. He says he will get her some pills to help. 

On the same day Katherine is buried, queen Anne has a miscarriage. The king tells Henry he has been seduced by witchcraft into his marriage, which is null because God has not granted him a son. 

Mary laces some wine with the sleeping pills, and prepares to give it to Shelton and her maids. Only a letter from Nicholas delivered by Randall dissuades her. He begs her to “be of good cheer, for shortly the opposite party will put water in their wine as the King is already sick and tired of the concubine as could be.” Mary replies telling them to do everything possible to remove the mistress. 

At queen Anne’s trial for adultery against the king, Henry votes guilty. He, Gertrude, Nicholas and Chapuys watch on as Anne is beheaded and Jane marries the king.

Mary is astonished to receive a visit from her old lady, Anne Hussey. They have returned from the north as John has to attend parliament, where Elizabeth will be declared a bastard now queen Anne is dead. While talking to Mary, Anne calls for a drink for the princess, and is arrested. Mary is in shock and writes a letter to her father, hoping to reconcile with him now her enemy is dead.

After being presented as the new queen, Jane tells the Courtenay’s, Nicholas and Chapuys that Henry has received his daughter’s letter but is not happy. She promises to help Mary, and Chapuys christens her the peacemaker. 

Margaret Pole returns to court, attracting hundreds of people on the way who think Mary is with her. She carries a scathing letter from her son Reginald. King Henry is outraged that Reginald accuses him of tearing true defenders of religion to pieces, as well as likening him to the tyrant emperor Nero.

A group of nobles headed by Norfolk arrive to harass Mary into signing the acts, calling her a monster of nature and a traitress for continuing to defy her father. When she argues with them they say if she were their daughter they would beat her to death, or bash her head against a wall until it was a soft as a boiled apple.

Mary is locked in her bedchamber and not allowed to talk to anyone. She is to be watched over day and night. Hours pass and she refuses to back down. The guards are changed - this time Randall is on duty. Mary creates a distraction for the other guard and passes a scribbled letter to Randall for Chapuys. 

Jane pleads for mercy, but the king calls her a fool for interfering; she ought to think of the children they will have together and not any others. King Henry swears that not only will Mary suffer, but also his cousin, Cromwell and others. 

Anne is interrogated in the Tower for calling Mary a princess, but she insists it was merely due to habit. Henry is kicked off the privy council, and Nicholas is questioned about his relationship with Mary. Legal papers are drawn up to put Mary on trial for treason.  

Randall returns, detailing what has happened to her friends and giving Mary a letter from Chapuys. Chapuys points out she now has a better opportunity of becoming heir to the crown than when Anne Boleyn was alive. He urges her to save her life for the tranquillity of the kingdom, and comforts her with the knowledge that “God looks more into the intentions than into the deeds of men.”

Fearing for her and her friends lives, a broken Mary finally submits to her father and signs the document before her without reading the contents. 

GRACE 

Mary lies awake in the night crying before being disturbed by a knock at the door - Susan has returned. She is to resume her duties as the king is riding to see Mary. 

A nervous Mary sees her father for the first time in years, along with his new wife Jane who gives her a diamond. King Henry says he regrets their long separation, giving Mary some money and the necklace Katherine left her daughter in her will. He promises she can soon return to court. 

Freed from the Tower, Anne returns north with her husband John, where the people mutter about the king being ruled by evil ministers who have closed the monasteries and forced Princess Mary to sign acts labelling her a bastard. 

Mary returns to court, where the king pats Jane’s stomach, insinuating she is with child. He tells Mary some of his councillors were desirous of her death and she swoons in fear, but her father assures her all will be well now. She sits beside the queen at the high table while Gertrude serves them. 

Cromwell welcomes Mary back, congratulating her on finally signing the acts and calling her “the most obstinate woman that ever was.” 

Mary reunites with Henry Jerningham and Margaret Pole, along with Margaret’s sons Henry and Geoffrey. She tells Mary Reginald, who has just been made a cardinal, will not stop supporting her cause abroad. 

Mary thanks Nicholas, Henry, Gertrude and Chapuys for their help. She begs the ambassador to get her absolution from the Pope for signing the acts under duress. Seeing them talk, King Henry tells his daughter he hates dissemblers. There is talk of an uprising in the north where people believe her able to inherit after him. He forces her to write to the pope, the emperor and his family confirming she sees herself as a bastard.  

In Lincolnshire rebels threaten to burn the Hussey’s house down. Anne promises her husband will join them. John calls her a fool to make such a promise; Anne argues he wanted to rise the north for princess Mary and the true faith. John says that was with the emperor’s help and before she submitted to the king. He writes to him protesting his innocence in the affair. 

At court the king is enraged at the rebels, tearing up John’s letter. Jane goes on her knees and petitions him to reopen the monasteries, but is rebuffed by the king who tells her not to meddle. He talks about the rebellion with Mary, making sure to mention her old chamberlain’s letter, and the vast expense of the army he is sending to suppress it. 

Henry is sent north at the head of the army to prove his loyalty. Gertrude worries over his safety, remembering the Nun of Kent’s prophecies of war. Courtier Edward Neville asks Gertrude if she is merry and she replies "How can I be merry? My lord is gone to battle." He tells her not to fear this one or the second battle, but beware the third. She warns him prophecies will turn him to displeasure one day. 

Anne gives the rebels food, wine and money, encouraging them further. As the army approaches and rebels still camp outside his house, John flees. 

A terrified Jane tells Mary she was mistaken about being with child. Mary reassures her, thanking her new mother for all her help. When he hears, King Henry says he will clearly have no children by his wife, and that if he will have no son to succeed him he hopes for a grandson. 

Henry meets up with John. He pleads innocence, and joins him to deliver an invitation to the rebel leader, lawyer Robert Aske. At the king’s request he is to attend court for Christmas.   

At court Aske and Mary are kept separated. The king questions Aske on the rebels demands. They want the monasteries to reopen, and see no reason why Mary could not be queen. People think the king’s divorce made by Thomas Cranmer was not legal and “Lady Mary ought to be favoured for her great virtues [...] for she is marvellously beloved by the whole people.” He worries with her being ruled illegitimate the emperor has a reason to wage war against the realm. The king tells him he has nothing to fear from the emperor. 

Mary asks Chapuys to distract the king while Gertrude takes her to Robert Aske. Chapuys talks with King Henry about Prince Luis of Portugal being a possible husband for Mary now the French Dauphin has died.  

In secret, Aske tells Mary she will always be the Princess of Wales and heir, no matter what the king decrees, as the law deems her legitimate. The people of England look to her for hope in such faithless times. 

She keeps his words close to her heart as Aske and John Hussey are beheaded for treason. The king says their bodies are to be sent back north as a message for all those against his rule. Mary approves, and King Henry delights at his pearl finally understanding his authority. 

A traumatised Mary stares at the bloodstained scaffold, silently vowing to avenge the deaths of her loving supporters.

[madame-fouquet]

2020 Anime Retrospective

With the end of the year here, and all the anime that came with it now behind us, I feel like looking back and reminiscing on it. So, following the style of ANN's own yearly retrospectives, may I present my 2020 anime in review! Enjoy.

Best of the year: Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken

    This is actually not the first time Yuasa and his crew of, let's be honest, visionaries have rolled something special out right at the beginning of the year in some weird power move against everything else that has to follow it. They did it back in 2018 with Devilman Crybaby, and then they hit us this year with Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken.     You ever have one of those shows where you're just constantly in awe of everything it does? Where you never found yourself chasing merch or hunting after content based off it online, but you consistently find yourself thinking about it? Yeah, that's what Eizouken did to my brain after I watched it. It was such an earnest love letter to anime and anime production, to animation in general, that I couldn't help but get sucked into its imagination and enthusiasm. The way it was able to so perfectly illustrate that pure, boundless, childlike joy that one can derive from the simple act of creating, I'd be lying if I didn't say that it had a powerful effect on my own desire to continue creating. (Corny as that sounds, it's true.) The sheer amount of love it contains, and the equal amount it puts out into the world make it so I know I am going to be thinking about it again and again for a long long time.

Runner-up: Akudama Drive

    I don't know if it's really quite a matter of my two favorites being opposites, but there are definitely some pretty sharp stylistic and tonal differences between my two top shows this year. Akudama Drive's cocaine-fueled bender of an intro episode made it very clear what it's intentions were and what it wanted us to be prepared for. That doesn't mean I had ANY idea of where it was headed narratively, but I did know I was in for one hell of a ride. And it delivered is spades on that promise.     The twists and turns, no matter how insane, illogical, or steeped in tropes they were, were all such a colorful energetic spectacle that it would be hard to hold anything against the series. Every character was such a force that I didn't really consider any of them a weak point. Yeah, some of them were more or less cardboard cut-outs of antagonistic elements, but when the cardboard cutout looks REALLY FREAKING COOL, it's hard to get too torn up over the details. It's a show that oozes style and knew EXACTLY what it wanted to do and be, and I have to respect that.

Runner-up-up: Toilet-Bound Hanako-kun

    The next few entries aren't really in any sort of order, I actually found it near impossible to sort anything below my top two. Hanako-kun however does hold a bit of a special place for me though because, at least from a stylistic standpoint, it hits so many of my buttons. Just visually this show is the exact kind of thing my younger self would have latched onto immediately, even before knowing anything about the actual content. I suppose not much has really changed though.     I'm absolutely in love with the animation style of Hanako-kun, and I got really lucky that there is an interesting story and delightful cast of characters underneath that visual splendor. Along with the sharp lines, intense colors, and soft characters, I'm also a sucker for contemporary supernatural mysteries. That's a fancy way of saying one of my favorite shows as a kid was The X-files, but both make the point pretty well. The world of Hanako-kun has a lot to offer, and I can only hope it gets a second season so we can continue to delve into it's beautiful and terrifying mysteries.

Runner-up-up: Kaguya-sama: Love is War Season 2

    I know a lot of people will be talking about this one when it comes to “Best of” lists. I know a lot of people were talking about the first season when it reminded us just how funny anime can be back in 2018. Absurd high school comedies (Is that a genre?) could definitely be considered my favorite. Hell, of my top five favorite anime of all time, THREE of them fall under that category. So believe me when I say Kaguya-sama absolutely deserves the deluge of praise it receives. For what describing something as “laugh out loud” is worth, this show had me constantly needing to pause it just so I could finish laughing at whatever ludicrously funny misfortune had just befallen it's cast of lovable morons.     The thing is though, Kaguya-sama understands that you can't just earn love and goodwill on laughs alone, there needs to be a beating heart at the center of all the shenanigans. And when this season had me actually cheering on and feeling sorry for Ishigami of all people, I knew that beating heart was present and accounted for. Look, the cast are all self-centered idiots, but I'll be damned if they aren't also my dear children who I delight in watching slowly grow and become slightly less self-centered idiots.

Runner-up-up: Dorohedoro

    When the Dorohedoro anime was first announced, a lot of my experience was watching a group of people online scream about how they were so pumped that it was finally getting an anime. I had never heard of it before, but the excitement was very real and tangible. And I gotta say, sometimes you need to believe the hype.     I've never been one to shirk a series just because it was CG animation, (Watch ID-0 dammit!) but Dorohedoro makes a strong case for why people shouldn't sleep on something based solely on it's animation. The dirty, grease-encrusted world of Hole is brought to life with plenty of flair and style that, I feel, the CG didn't hold back at all. What I had seen said was that for a long time Dorohedoro was kinda considered “unanimateable” but I think MAPPA did the iconic manga a fair amount of justice. Even if pulpy ultra-violence isn't normally your thing, I still highly recommend giving Dorohedoro a look, it might just end up being a hole worth going down.

Honorable Mention: Show By Rock!! Mashumairesh!!

    I know what you're thinking, but hear me out. The first Show By Rock!! was definitely an indulgence for me. While not something I considered a high level series by any stretch: messy plotting, shallow characters, a weird isekai angle, a lackluster finale, and an even MORE lackluster second season, it still got is hooks into me with its sheer energy and fluffy charm. So despite the, as mentioned, rough second season, I was more than happy to check out the new series in the franchise. And boy was I glad I did.     Mashumairesh!! takes all the heart and sweetness that worked for the first series and dials it up. It then took a hard look at a lot of what DIDN'T work in the first series, and manages to fix most of the issues. Removing the isekai angle and the whole existential threat thing, and just letting the series be a “slice-of-life but in an electric animal filled music world” did wonders for the direction and consistency. Add to that more properly fleshed out characters, and you get a series that is far stronger than it's progenitor.     The next series, Show By Rock!! Stars!!, will be adding back the cast from the first series, and that could very well be a sign that it will be falling back into its old habits, but the presence of the Mahumairesh!! girls gives me hope that it might have a chance of staying the new, far better course.

Worst of the Year: Digimon Adventure:

    This one really hurts to say. What hurt more was how quickly I knew what show I'd be electing for this position. One thing to clarify is that I would not nominate a series that I'd only watched one or two episodes of, that's just not fair. So the award was bound to go to something I had at least dedicated a decent amount of my time too. And in any other year this may have gone to something that was more my “least favorite” or had an ending that disappointed me. But unfortunately I have to be honest and sit here and tell you that the newest entry in the Digimon franchise was easily the worst thing I watched this year.      I have been a long time Digimon fan. Ever since I was but a wee lass watching the original Digimon Adventure premiere on Fox Kids at a family reunion, I have always considered the franchise a sort of cornerstone of my anime fandom. So please understand the excitement I had felt when I found out they were doing a full on remake of that flagship series. Imagine how absolutely pumped I was when the bombastic movie-like premiere of Digimon Adventure: wowed us with everything it delivered, and all the promises of what was to come. And then imagine my disappointment, my despair as the show devolved until it showed us what it really was during the finale of the Fake Tokyo arc.     I would call it a production meltdown, but considering the precedent that got set back in episode 10 during the already shaky Ultimate Evolution arc, has been so clearly informing everything up to the current episodes in the early 30s, I have to be honest with myself and admit: this is what we were going to get all along from day one.     All of the heart that had made the original series so endearing, despite its own flaws, just isn't present here. What you get here is just a non-stop (and I mean non-stop) string of barely related fights with poorly-defined stakes, or sometimes no real stakes at all. It's just one ugly set piece fight after another as the children chase after vaguely implied evils. I think the most damning thing is how much more I could say about just how much this series has let me down. Like I said, this one hurts.

Best Theme-Song of the Year: Night Running (BNA)

     My opinion of BNA as a series is complex. But my opinion of its ED, Night Running, is simple: Its a god-damned bop! I could spend this whole section talking about the artistry of the ED animation itself, its fun and creative use of color, the slight variations for certain episodes, the focus on character, or the fact that it was done by an American animation team. I could even talk about the song's importance to the series as a whole and its place in the narrative. I won't though. The fact of the matter is that even without all that, I STILL probably would've picked Night Running as my best of the year because as a song it is just that much my jam. This is the kind of shit I could listen to on repeat for hours, days, weeks, and still keep coming back to it. Don't get me wrong, Ready To is a damn powerful and catchy tune that goes hard, but at the end of the day, I'm a sucker for a soulful pop tune like Night Running. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WWTFfEnMCCc

Best Character: Sayaka Kanamori

    This was actually probably the hardest category for me to decide on. It was stuck hard between Eizoken's Kanamori and Akudama Drive's Doctor. I know those are a powerfully different pair in basically every way, but it was specifically for their startling differences that both characters stuck out to me so much. In the end though, it was the poignant rounding out of, and emotional hooks of Kanamori's character that let her triumph over her delightfully two-dimensional opposition.     Kanamori already had me from episode one. In a show that I wasn't really worried about the usual diversions of anime ingestion like picking a favorite character, Kanamori sealed herself as “Best-girl” from the word go. I have mad respect for a girl who knows what she wants, and has a clear idea of how she's going to go about getting it (See also: Doctor.) But Kanamori was more than a driving desire for success and money. Underneath her unstoppable ambition there was a very real, very relatable driving impetus. She stood apart, and yet still believably vulnerable and invested in the people she associated with. It was always a blast watching her suffer as the only thing keeping the more creative minds on track, and yet she was never reduced to a simple task master; her love and respect for her friends was always clearly visible. I could go on and on about how Kanamori is a nearly perfect character, but I hope I've said enough already without having to resort to senseless rambling.

Best Moment: Howan confesses her feeling to Himeko (Show By Rock!! Mashumairesh!!)

    By the time episode six rolled around, Mashumairesh!! had already shown marked improvements over its progenitor in basically every area. Not only was the story in a better place by focusing on what had worked in the original series, (Ya know the BAND part of this show about bands) but the cast was also doing a good job of standing out from their seniors and feeling more equally rounded out. Where the original series had just kinda been the Cyan show with guest stars, I felt like I had an actual grip on all four of the main girls now.     There were however the usual issues that come with a cute-girls-doing-cute-things series, chief among them the “ambiguously gay member of the group who constantly reacts with clear romantic interest towards the main protagonist but the writing will never actually do anything with those feelings” trope. Retoree had spent the better part of the first two seasons fawning over Cyan only for nothing to come of it and, despite the increased focus on all of the girls this time around, it looked like we were going to get the same old song and dance with Himeko's feelings towards Howan.     But then the climax of episode six hit and, midst a really intense subplot about Himeko's abandonment complex, Howan comes out with a straight up love confession. And I kept waiting for the usual dead-ends these moments always seem to have. The “I love you! I love the girls too! I love the band!” Or a “I love being with you.” and the dreaded, “I love having you as my most precious friend.” But none of that happened. It was a full on heart-felt, “I love you, Himeko. I want to stay with you forever!” I'm just not used to getting that sort of straightforwardness from my silly little band shows, so I was shocked, but also completely overjoyed. And frankly the series just kept getting better from there.     The evolution of their relationship built off that moment, no dreaded resetting of the status quo. I daresay it was on the power of this moment alone that I wanted to include this series in my top five at all. If there was anything I would want other anime to take from Mashumairesh!! it's that it's okay to introduce radical changes to character relationships partway through a season, and it's okay to let characters unequivocally state their feelings for each other. People will respond positively to that earnestness, I promise.

[themousefromfantasyland]

The Creatures of Yuletide: Santa Claus

Well, this is the end. I finish my series talking about Holiday creatures and traditions with the most popular gift-giver of all time, Mr. Kris Kringle, Santa Claus.

First of all we need to disperse some myths: He wasn't created by Coca-Cola, and although they immortalized the red and white look, they didn't invent it, the same with his image as jolly old man.

The Coca-Cola ads are from 1930's. This Puck cover is from 1902

Santa Claus started his life as the dutch gift-giver, Sinterklaas. Sinterklaas was a cartoonish version of St. Nicholas that delivered gifts to children on December 5th, Eve of St. Nicholas Day. The name Sinterklaas is an abbreviation of Sint Nikolaas, St. Nicholas. At this point he didn't had reindeers or sleighs. He travelled by horse and was accompanied by Zwarte Piet (the Black Piet) a stereotypical caricature of a black servant.

In his Dutch form he was imagined to carry a staff, ride above the rooftops on a huge white horse and have mischievous helpers who listened at chimneys to find out whether children were being bad or good. These features all link him to the legend of Odin, a god who was worshipped among the Germanic peoples in North and Western Europe prior to Christianization.

Dutch immigrants brought the character to America, more specifically to New Amsterdam, now New York City, along with the custom of giving gifts and sweets to children on his feast day.

Following the Revolutionary War the already heavily Dutch influenced New York City saw a new surge of interest in Dutch customs. In 1804 John Pintard, an influential patriot and antiquarian, founded the New York Historical Society and promoted St. Nicholas as patron saint of both the society and city. On December 6th 1810 the society hosted its first St. Nicholas anniversary dinner and Pintard commissioned the artist Alexander Anderson to draw an image of the saint to be handed out at the dinner. In Anderson's portrayal he was still shown as a religious figure, but now he was also clearly depositing gifts in fireside stockings and is associated with rewarding the goodness of children. While "St. Nicholas day" never quite took off in the way Pintard wanted, Anderson's image of "Sancte Claus" most certainly did.

A year before New York Historical Society's feast, american writer and historian Washington Irving wrote a very untraditional portrayal of St. Nicholas in his satirical fiction Knickerbocker's History of New York.

"At this early period was instituted that pious ceremony, still religiously observed in all our ancient families of the right breed, of hanging up a stocking in the chimney on St. Nicholas Eve; which stocking is always found in the morning miraculously filled; for the good St. Nicholas has ever been a great giver of gifts, particularly to children."

He described a jolly St. Nicholas character who flew in a reindeer pulled sleigh and delivered presents down chimneys.

In 1822, Clement Moore wrote the poem that would cement the image of St. Nicholas as a fat jolly gift-giver, "A Visit from St. Nick", today "The Night Before Christmas". In his poem St. Nicholas no longer visited children on the eve of his feast, but in Christmas Eve, and he travelled in a sleigh pulled by eight reindeers, Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, and Blitzen, with Rudolph as a later addition.

Moore drew upon Irving's description and Pintard's New Amsterdam tradition and added some more Odin-like elements from German and Norse legends to create the all-winking, sleigh-riding Saint and also the names for his flying reindeer.

It's important to note that at this point St. Nicholas wasn't a saint anymore, but he still wasn't Santa, he was almost a elf, and everything about him, including his sleigh and reindeers were described as tiny. That's how Santa can come down chimneys without a problem.

Nicholas started to become Santa when cartoonist Thomas Nast did an initial illustration in an 1863 issue of Harper's Weekly, as part of a large illustration titled "A Christmas Furlough".

In a way Thomas Nast can be considered the true inventor of Santa Claus, who becsme in his drawings and illustrations a normal-heigh jolly fat man who travelled in a flying sleigh. In later Nast drawings a home at the North Pole was added, as was the workshop for building toys and a large book filled with the names of children who had been naughty or nice.

In his later 1881 illustration named "Merry Old Santa" the modern Santa character really begins to take shape.

Now we need to talk about the English Father Christmas.

In early medieval England, the pagan Saxons honoured the Frost or Winter King, who had a lot in common with Odin. But, as Christianity became dominant, this figure became more closely associated with the festival celebrating the birth of Jesus.

That was the birth of old bearded figures who personification the feast. This also can be traced back to Odin, which was also used to personify the Yule season.

By the 1400s, he was thought of as a chivalric knight called Sir Christmas, and by the Tudor era he had been charmingly renamed Captain Christmas. He wasn't a gift-giver to children, but a figure who incited people to celebrate the Yuletide feasts.

This made him an enemy of Oliver Cromwell’s righteous government, which outlawed Christmas, fearing that it had become an excuse for unholy drunkenness. In response, the defenders of the tradition renamed the figure Old Father Christmas to make him sound more venerable.

When the monarchy was restored and Charles II took the throne, Father Christmas kept his new name.

When Christmas became popular again in the 19th century, so did Father Christmas, appearing as the Ghost of Christmas Present in Dickens's A Christmas Carol, greeting cards and advertisments.

In the early 16th century, Martin Luther – the German founder of Protestantism – considered Sinterklaas, St. Nicholas, too similar to pagan Odin. Instead he decreed that it was the Christkind who brought gifts.

The Christkind was a magic version of Baby Jesus, and he visited children on the Christmas Eve instead of the Eve of St. Nicholas Day. Later he became a golden haired female angel. Her visits on Christmas Eve may what inspired Santa's visits on this day instead of the traditional December 5th. Her name also became associated with Santa, but been anglicaized as Kris Kringle.

Resuming, Sinterklaas, Father Christmas, Christkind, with a little bit of Odin inspiration, became a single gift-giver figure in the US and North America, and that's how we got Santa Claus.

Now it's important to note that since the 19th century, Santa and Father Christmas became HUGE sources of inspiration for advertisers and department stores. Using a "living Santa" in your store to draw children and their parents goes back to this period. Some use this as to why Santa means nothing more than just the commercialization of Christmas.

However, the sources of Santa are way older, and the character was used for everything, from advertisments to army propaganda.

I'm personally very fond of Santa as a character and to me he means much more than a department store mascot. He's an personification of the jolliness of the holiday, of the children innocent belief in the fantastical and of the transformative power of charity.

I think it's impossible to look at Santa and say, he's just a mascot, considering the number of life's he affected.

Santa is without a doubt a symbol of magic and goodwill, and on this Christmas Eve I hope he brings much more than just toys to you and your family.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and Happy Yuletide to all, my friends!

[sirsharp-a]

Hellbent  (TEASER) ;

Summary:  Edgar sits down to have a chat with you. Warnings:  Mentions of child predators, sexual assault, murder and torture.

    I am not a good person.

    I’m not telling you this because I rejoice in it.  It isn’t because I aspire to be ‘’The Big Bad’’.  It isn’t because I’m wounded and small, nor is it because I’m secretly fragile with a heart of gold.  I’m telling you this because it’s the truth.  I am not good.  I am not bad.  I toe  the line whenever it suits me, and the rest goes up in flames.

    The more I open up to you, the less you’re going to like me.

    And I don’t care.  I’m not your Messiah.

    There is evil in this world.  True evil.   The moment I came to Earth and began to study its inhabitants, I took note of a trend that was most disturbing:  this realm’s children, in a lot of cases, are treated no better than livestock.  Empty vessels for adults to vent their frustrations on.  Before long, I found myself obsessed, books and case files I’d printed from previously solved cases scattered across the length of my bed like I was some detective from a critically acclaimed drama, a morbid fascination blossoming in my brain like a chrysanthemum beside a tombstone.

    Fathers that beat their children because they had a bad day at work.     Mothers who take care of their addictions instead of feeding their young.     Babysitters that aggressively antagonise babies while their parents slave away.

    The deeper down the rabbit-hole I fell, the more I felt myself coming to terms with feeling.  If there is anything you must know about me, it is that I have the emotional capacity of a goddamn waffle--  or so I’ve been told.  I’d have to agree.  I’ve never felt things… ‘right’.  But by God, as I leafed through those records, I felt angry.  How could somebody do such cruel things to people who have not even lived yet?  Children are tiny, fragile, and weak.  What could you POSSIBLY glean from being horrible to them?  To me, it’s the equivalent of people abusing animals:  they’re so hungry for somebody to notice them that they’ll do even the most asinine, malignant of things for a morsel of sweet, sweet attention.

    Congratulations.  You have my attention now.

    As most unfortunate things go, these things were relatively tame.  Even now, I can’t believe that I’m saying such a thing when children have died at the hands of people like this--  but again, it’s the truth.  The more I read, the more educated I became.  The more educated I became, the more I realised that this realm was not doing enough to protect those that could do nothing to defend themselves.  It made me so hot with rage that I had to leave my research behind for several days.  I’d seen enough.  I didn’t want to witness more.

    Still, it didn’t take long for me to come crawling back.  As if I could forget such heinous displays of depravity.  

    Mothers that burned their children alive in microwaves.     Fathers who buried their children in the backyard after ‘accidentally’ hitting them too hard.

    And then the worst of it.

    Parents that molest their sons and daughters for reasons unknown.     Mothers and fathers that rape their sons and daughters for--

    … for what?  What reason could you POSSIBLY have for laying your hands on a child in that way?  Do you know how small they are--  how much they resemble glass in your large, grubby hands?  Why is that alluring to you?  Why do you need to touch the one thing that no person, monster or God ever should?  Do you think yourself special?  Exempt of the rules?  A person who  DESERVES  it all?

    That was when my plan was first hatched.

    I was bored.  I was angry.  And I will always have forever to fill.

    I began to investigate on my own.  I watched the news like a hawk whenever I came to visit.  Steadily, I filled my head with information and I laid in wait.  I’m not going to spew some bullshit at you;  I’m not going to tell you I heard the children crying out to me, or that their silent pleas lingered in between the lines of every calculated interview, PR meeting and news report.  There was no feeling of subservience to a higher power, no ‘child whispering’ technique I employed--  just the facts, and my fury being fed.  Like a starving animal being tossed scraps from a man that pitied it.

    The first man I murdered was in cold blood.  I found him using nothing but my nose and my brain, recognised him immediately in light of the hours of research I’d been doing.  While the cops ran circles around the breadcrumbs he had left behind, I tore his legs off and beat him to death with them in his bedroom.  I can’t describe the feeling it gave me.  Satisfaction doesn’t describe it  -  and that’s what I’m trying to highlight to you.  I’m not the good guy.  I do this not just for the people in need, but because I’m a self-righteous bastard who can do it.  I know that.  I accept it.  Damn, I embrace it.

    … but I will ask you this:

    If not me, who?

    I know, I know--  what a self-centred, cliche question, no?  But think about it.  Really open your mind and think.  You sit there in your perfect little house with your comfortable amenities and your dazzling future spread ahead of you like a big blue tarpaulin, all while the elites you have funded sit around twiddling their thumbs and doing nothing to aid crises.  Your police forces, in most cases, mean well, but the law smothers their ability to enforce any sort of goodwill.  Who fears a man that bears a gun if he is not allowed to fire it under most circumstances?  There’s nothing that most of them can do unless it’s literally going to cost them their life.  A lifetime in jail--  even with prisoners who do not like them--  is not a fair punishment.  It’s simply what you’ve been told is humane.

    Do you think it’s humane to hold a little girl who’s crying and screaming still while a grown man inserts himself into her?  Do you think it’s humane for an adult woman to humiliate her prepubescent son for the changes his body is going through, touching and probing in places nobody should touch?  Do you not think that kind of abhorrence deserves an equal measure of retaliation?

    They should both be in Hell.  And I have no desire to wait until after death for that to unfold.

    Humans have too many rules, too many laws that mean nothing and too many governmental figures that are content to turn a blind eye to the things wrong with the world.  I don’t want people to get into unnecessary trouble.  I understand why the police can’t unleash an entire clip into a pedophile’s chest because they caught them in the act while going to apprehend them.

    But I’m not the police.  I’m not a government official.  I don’t have a cushy office, or a high-paying job, or a moral compass that prevents me from delivering a hearty blow to the back of a man’s head should he fiddle with small bodies.  I have myself.  I have my principles.  I have my rage.  That’s all…  and perhaps that’s why I enjoy it.  I know I’m doing something cruel, but it’s to people who deserve it, and for that I will never apologise.  People who ruin others for no good reason.  People who tarnish the sanctity of youth for no other purpose than to satisfy their perverted fantasies.

    While ever I feel strongly about this, I’m going to continue my work.  It’s why I come to Earth routinely now;  sit in a darkened apartment in London after having dinner with my wife in another realm completely, sifting through encrypted requests for help in my inbox.

    Do you need help removing a human stain?  Contact E.Strahv for further assistance.

                                                   [ You have (1) new email! ]

                                                      It’s time to get to work.

[lisinfleur]

When You Weren’t There To See - Chapter 1: Childish Oaths

Author’s Notes | The beginning of one more work! Sometimes I look at my masterlist and remember when I first spoke to Sy about how insecure I was to post "TWTDTM" hahaha Now look at this... You guys make me feel so huge! Thank you for all the love and reviews and requests that stimulated me to keep moving forward and produce one more work for you guys to enjoy! This one was pretty requested, haha (more than I was expecting!). I hope you guys like the final result of your many requests!

Universe | Vikings

Pairing | Sigurd x Siggy Björnsðóttir

Info | Viking Age AU, requested by multiple anons

Words | 1182

⁑ Warnings: Mentions of child abandonment, angst, family conflict (this chapter). Caution is recommended: The following content may be triggering (Child loss, sterility).

As if it wasn't enough Ragnar leaving all his sons behind on her shoulders, now his firstborn wanted a space on her back to tie his little girl.

It was not that she wasn't touched by the pity of the poor creature, completely rejected by her father after the mom decided to leave out of her inability to accept the gods' fate for her pretty face; but Aslaug had already four children to take care of - not speaking of dear Ivar who was definitely time-consuming and intensely dependent of her full attention.

In spite of her will to hold a little girl - and maybe replace Ragnar's sweet Gyda, lost for the fever years ago - the queen couldn't give herself the lux of taking any more responsibilities than the gods had already laid in her hands with Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, Ivar, and his broken bones to assist.

Poor Siggy should have to go. And if she had to leave, then why not for Torhild? The woman was devastated since the gods had taken from her the womb unable to produce a single child for her husband. Such a loving man - how many times did she envied Torhild's luck when seeing Dag's loving arms around her belly swollen with a child they would be burying not long after it was born.

Some with so little, others with so much... For a moment, the queen caught herself thinking if Ragnar really deserved one day the forecast the Norns had spun in the thread of his fate: of his many children, the only one he had raised had grown into a bastard just like him...

Maybe Dag and Torhild deserved that child more than Björn and Ragnar's lineage. Surely, they would take care of that poor creature pretty better than Lagertha's stupid boy and his childish inaptitude to surpass a broken heart and put his child over his wounded ego.

It was a better fate, for sure.

"One day, I believe, you'll thank me for this, little one."

The queen's voice lost itself in the silence of a mute child, too little to speak for herself, too little to even understand what was happening around her and why the strong arms that protectively had received her into this world were now refusing to even hold her once again.

Something inside Aslaug's heart was screaming Björn would regret his actions towards that little girl one day.

But she didn't have time to wait for this day to come.

"Queen Aslaug..."

"He rejected her, Torhild," Aslaug explained to the surprised and enlarged eyes of the woman in front of her.

Torhild’s arms holding the little blonde child Aslaug had given to her in goodwill.

"As if it was nothing but a ragged doll or something to be discharged", a childish brain thought whose stained blue eyes were watching the scene from a hidden spot near the hallway.

"My queen, she's his daughter," Torhild insisted.

But Aslaug's will was stone: the decision was made.

"He doesn't want her. I cannot raise her. Her mother left her behind. The gods are speaking, Torhild. Listen to them: not from your womb, but from your heart. Here is the child without a mother for a mother without a child. Your milky breasts have no mouth to suckle. Her hungry stomach has no breast to feed her. Accept the gods' gift and raise her, Torhild. And if you value what he does not; if his blood in her veins is too much for you to handle, then keep his name for her. Tell her who she is. And tell her Björn Ironside wasn't this much of a father as he is a warrior and a man."

Heavy words with which Torhild embraced the little girl against her chest, teary eyes pouring wet trails through her face.

The little child looking back at the hallway where the known stained eyes were now openly looking at her. A glare she was so used to follow, left behind as Torhild’s steps took the little girl away from the hall, to the streets where his snaky little blues couldn't follow her anymore.

"What is it, Sigurd? What are you looking at?" Aslaug said, finally noticing the little boy looking at the door through where his niece had just left with a new mother.

A new owner for the doll nobody wanted around.

"Will you find a new mother for me too?" he asked, causing Aslaug to giggle, rolling her eyes.

"I'm your mother, Sigurd. I'm not your father. Nor his lineage. She wasn't my daughter. But you are," she said, touching the boy's hair, caressing his hair.

"Sometimes... It seems I'm not," he answered, causing her small caress to cease.

But before she could say anything, Ivar's voice sounded screaming for her from his room - probably another broken bone, both of them thought.

She left without answering the boy's doubts.

Sigurd's eyes landed on the doors of the hall once again, left open by Torhild when she left.

For years the boy would wait for the moment some new mother or father or family would come to take him too.

A new owner for the doll nobody wanted around...

The day never came.

No father or mother came through those open doors to raise him. Instead, his father came to take his older brothers with him and he barely knew Ragnar Loðbrók further than the legends that were told about him. His mother - too busy with his little brother's glassy bones as fragile as his stupidly swollen ego - whether couldn't give him attention or wasn't home to listen to his calls.

Slowly, the childish mouth stopped calling. Sigurd raised himself by himself. But his stained eyes never stopped thinking about that little girl... Siggy.

He never saw her again: maybe afraid of Björn's retaliation, Torhild never came back into the Great Hall, always sending a slave to deliver Aslaug's asks for dresses or cloaks to the boys. Stupid thought: Björn never really complained about Siggy's absence. He barely noticed she wasn't there when he came back from his wanders.

"Being raised," was everything he had about his daughter from Aslaug's mouth and it was enough for him to never ask once again. Sigurd couldn't understand his older brother's actions, but it wasn't different from his father's.

"Being raised," was everything Ragnar ever had from his life. He came and went away, came, and disappeared. And as long as his sons were being raised - whether by their mother or the life itself - it was good for him.

Sometimes Sigurd asked himself if his father would have noticed if he had been the one drowned into that iced lake Ubbe and Hvitserk once had fallen. Several times he asked himself if he would ask his mother "where was Sigurd?" if he ever came home to find his bed empty like Björn came to find his daughter's crib cleaned out.

"Being raised" would be the answer, he always thought.

He would be there for his children one day, he swore inside.

Do you like my work? Support me!

Tagged ones:

|| @directionlessbuthappy​ || @akamaiden​ || @bang-kim-bap​ || @cris101071​ || @elysias-temple​ || @alicedopey​ || @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla​ || @lol-haha-joke​ || @readsalot73​ || @rekdreams247​ || @naaladareia​ || @laketaj24​ || @therealcalicali​ || @grungyblonde​ || @honestsycrets​ || @2thequietone4​ || @blackspiritshake​ || @vikingsbifrost​ || @lyanna-the-giantsbane​ || @isthat-tyra98​ || @xinyourdreamsx​ || @medievalfangirl​ || @queenbeeta​ || @thiahilmarsdottir​ || @valhallawasteland​ || @lupy22​ || @winchesterwife27​ || @gold-dragon-slayer​ || @mzliterarydreamer​ || @marvelouuse​ || @lif3snotouttogetyou​ || @lordsexmachine​ || @deathbyarabbit​ || @ietss​ ||  @tgrrose​ || @alexisshoto​ || @letsloveimagines​ || @natalie-rdr​ || @astrape-the-weatherwitch​ ||

Want to be tagged? Ask me!

[idlecreature]

the buried fic comment from hell (it's so long i'm SO SORRY, I GOT EXCITED)

DEL.. I WASN’T SURE IF IT WAS APPROPRIATE TO LEAVE A LONG ASS COMMENT ON UR BURIED FIC IN PUBLIC….. SO I’M DROPPING IT HERE i’m so sorry in advance this is about to be a mess,, i’m so fucking emotional right now

((the review under the cut is in response to my fic which can b read here))

okay first –

The mental image of tiny gangly Barnabas and Jonah crouched with their hands in the dirt….. is so fucking cute?? I could feel Jonah’s jealousy just burning off of him. You had me right away. Fuck. You know how to open a story and I’m deeply envious, I’ve always struggled with it. Also, you threw in that little hook:

Despite what Jonah believes, there are some things that just can’t be explained in words.

Barnabas’ voice is so fucking good… guh… you know. I didn’t much care about Barnabas in any deep way before I joined the Jonah server and you guys have all just completely GUTTED me, I can’t believe how much I care about this highly-strung bastard,, he is so GOOD. HE’S SO GOOD???? HE’S SUCH A SWEETIE. LIKE. BARNABAS FEELING GUILTY AND HORRIFIED THAT PEOPLE ARE GRATEFUL TO HIM AND WANT HIM AROUND???? AAAAAAAAAA. And the melancholy aspect, too, which I imagine is how Mordechai was able to relate to him, get attached to him… Barnabas being bitter about how useless his tears are while he’s crying anxiously at the prospect that he might not be able to help those families after all…….

All of those scraps of Barnabas’ letter to Jonah made such EXCELLENT transitions, holy hell. Again I am inspired by your storytelling prowess. I am taking notes, for whenever my ability to write longform fic returns from war. This one was my favorite, made my heart clench:

A good world starts with a good person and a few choices that are made with the heart—

He’s so earnest I’m going to weep ;_; Barny.. you can’t make Jonah a better person he’s AWFUL,,

(Side note, super digging that I can indent stuff, block quoting makes this SO much easier.)

Also really digging that Jonah doesn’t have as nice a reputation as Barnabas… Jonah is the bad influence friend lmfao. AND JONAH’S CAT… I LOVE HIM…

And then you delivered a swift blow straight to the religion kink, as promised… “There’s something undeniably old testament about Jonah; the fire and fury of creation, the self-annihilating stare of Lot’s wife.“ LOSING IT I’M LOSING IT… WHAT A WAY OF DESCRIBING HIM God, here I thought I couldn’t possibly be more attracted to this bastard man. I am aghast at myself.

LOSING IT EVEN MORE OVER BARNABAS STACKING TEACUPS ON JONAH’S HEAD???? Why must you make them so fucking cute oh NO this is going to hurt isn’t it. ((This was the note I stuck in the Word doc while I was reading it and I thought I’d leave it as was for your enjoyment))

“Taking cues from your dreams?” Barnabas replies. “You know only the desperately mad do that?” 

“Or desperately inspired—savants and prophets and visionaries.”

And then you continued to try to kill me… Jonah thinking of himself as a prophet……. hhhhh canon-typical overambitious zealotry I’m HERE FOR IT………

“Are you trying to make me angry with you by playing the devil’s advocate?” 

“Just testing you,” Jonah says in his alloyed voice, silver-and-honey-gold. 

Del I cannot stress enough… My religion kink………. It’s been SO VERY ACTIVATED.

“Your morality has only ever been a thin cover for your shame.”

OUCH, JONAH, JESUS

Every bit of their dialogue was so familiar and tinged with bittersweetness and I owe you my entire life… Sincerely. Ugh. Like, how you described Barnabas’ internal angst about it later on – when he’s thinking of Mordechai, and he refers to "his many dog-eared fantasies” about Jonah it just really vividly conjured the thought of he and Jonah having a sort of? Queer solidarity, ESPECIALLY having grown up together. And that makes Jonah’s flash of betrayal at Barnabas not wanting to be SEEN with him that much more agonizing, personally. Like. I’ve had that happen to me more than once in real life. And much as Jonah is a piece of shit who is absolutely manipulating him………. still, ouch. Ouch. (Barnabas’ thoughts on the company Jonah keeps also made me wince. You did an AMAZING job with all of the internalized shame and frantic rationalizations, hooooooboy.)

The Lukases being colorblind is such an interesting piece of lore by the way I love it????? Now I have. Some questions, about Peter. Mordechai’s characterization in this is so fascinating to me. I’m enTRANCED by how you reverse-Uno’d it so that Barnabas was the reason Mordechai lost himself to the Lonely… the power dynamics……. so tasty. Ugh. And all of the sensual descriptions, especially of that first visit Barnabas had at Moorland house?? I didn’t clip any because I would have ended up clipping the whole fucking thing. It was aching, haunting, beautiful, holyshit. Their romance is somehow more fucked up than Barnabas and Jonah’s…

Also, I was so eager to read this I skipped the tags/warnings and completely didn’t realize Mordechai was going to be an actual vampire so that was a VERY fun surprise lmfao.

Barnabas feels like he’s close to learning something about violence and desire, how close they are, how the wires can get crossed.

THIS QUOTE IS EVERYTHING TO MEEEEEE ugh I’m having an aneurysm over how Jonah managed to fashion Barnabas into a creature that could understand him by gifting him to Mordechai for a while… letting Mordechai crack him open at the points where he was already brittle and experience an influx of some of the true darkness of the world. Just a tasty taste. That way when he discovers the truth of Jonah’s occult interests he won’t run away, because he’s already got his own fingers in the mess. He’s already given himself to one horror, why not Jonah? Shave some of the shine off of his morality, make him nice and gray so he won’t contrast so much with Jonah… And satisfying his curiosity at the same time. Two birds.

Oh, also, still sobbing about this line:

he realises that he doesn’t want to wear any colours that Mordechai can’t properly see.

EVERY TIME I let my guard down for ten seconds you smacked me with more of Barnabas being the most precious bleeding heart in the universe!!!!!! He aches so much for the people he’s trying to help and he hates people like Mordechai but part of him also wants to save Mordechai, somehow… maybe recognizes the parts of him that are like these people, still. Nearly faded but not quite gone yet. And as you’ve already established, Barnabas simply cannot let things go. Can’t disappoint people… can’t leave them when he could be doing something. Anything. Augh, FEELINGS.

Of course he knew Mordechai and Jonah were friends, he’d just temporarily believed in a sane and fair universe where things like this don’t happen. 

AND YOU HAD SUCH A PERFECT BALANCE OF HUMOR… This could have been such a feelbad fic, and tbh it still would have been spectacular. But you always eased it at just the right moment to keep it from going off the rails into irretrievable deepdark territory. Fed me little soft moments so I’d still be vulnerable enough to have my HEART RIPPED OUT LATER…

I’m not super interested in the Buried canon-wise but I love how you’ve written Barnabas’ natural affiliation with it… so subtle but powerful? (Of COURSE Jonah was jealous, lmao. He had to work so hard and he’s still not on Barnabas’ level. There’s some kinda beautiful commentary on ambition versus goodwill in there somewhere but I’m too busy nursing my battered little heart right now to articulate it.) It wove its way in and out of the rest of the plot so naturally, too. For some reason it compliments Barnabas’ temperament as I read it in canon just… so well. Was there a discussion about this on the server, and if so, PLEASE tell me about it sometime I’m so fascinated.

Jonah wasn’t even present for a lot of the fic but his characterization was so INTENSE and luminous, Christ… I know I already praised it a bit but. Woof. I wasn’t expecting to get a taste of his POV at the end and I was so excited I kicked my feet (my cat was very disgruntled) like, this line!!!

Now, he thinks there’s some truth in those false statements, in the lies we tell and why we want to be believed.

GOD, YOU’RE REALLY GONNA GIVE ME FEELINGS ABOUT JONAH AND FUTURE-JONAHLIAS IN THE SAME FIC?????? EVIL… I’m so so so fucking here for it, oh my God, Jonah with an amplifying anxiety disorder, THE PRICE OF IMMORTALITY… too bad the Eye doesn’t let you see the future, Jonah, lmao… the line “immortality just made his anxiety turn nuclear” is SEARED into my brain now, I am NOT accepting canon to contradict this ever again. I’ve always wondered how Jonah’s neuroses might have worsened in two entire fucking CENTURIES and I love the way you wrote it. I am fucking. Losing my mind.

There’s so many other things I could comment on, like. The brief but glorious Jonah-grinding-himself-off-on-Barnabas’-thigh shenanigans. Was incredibly hot, and Mordechai’s poor fragile heart breaking, and Barnabas telling Isabel that it’s fine to call him Barny…….. I’m hhhhhhhhHHHH fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m just!! I am incomprehensible!!! Everyone told me this fic was amazing but it’s fucking amazing, Del, what the hell. I’m never gonna be the same after this. The end was SHOCKINGLY sweet and I have WHIPLASH.

………… So, now that I’ve made you read a novel. Hah. Sorry. My point is. I loved every bit of this. It deserved heaps more praise but my eyes are starting to cross. Thx for sharing :’) 

Love,

Tony xx

TONY. TONY THIS MEANS EVERYTHING TO ME. FIRSTLY I’M SO GLAD YOU LIKED THIS. SECOND OF ALL, THANKS TO YOU I’LL BE SCREAMING FROM THE ROOFTOPS FOREVER HAVE YOU ANY IDEA HOW THIS REVIEW HAS AFFECTED ME? IT’S THE BEST FEEDBACK I’VE EVER RECIEVED IN MY LIFE I FEEL LIKE A FIRSTGRADER GETTING THEIR FIRST GOLD STAR I FEEL ON TOP OF THE WORLD LIKE I COULD THROW THE JEWEL OF THE SEA OFF THE SHIP AND LEAN OVER THE RAILINGS BECAUSE YOUR ARMS ARE AROUND ME TONY IT’S BEEN MONTHS AND THIS REVIEW HAS BEEN A FIREPLACE KEEPING ME WARM THROUGH THE WINTER MONTHS I LOVE YOU DEARLY FOR THIS YOU ARE AN ABSOLUTE CHAMPION IF YOU WERE IN FRONT OF ME RIGHT NOW I WOULD FRENCH KISS YOU WITHOUT HESISTATION UNTIL THE BOTH OF US HAVE RUN OUT OF AIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCKING BLESS YOU TONY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

[jasontoddiefor]

Idk if you write ocs, but if you do, can you write something about a male teen vigilante that was Jason's best friend? Something angsty but with a happy ending maybe, like Jason feels all alone after he came back and oc yells at him and makes him see he really cares about him?

Well, I wasn’t writing it before but now I sure am. Hope you enjoy this!

There was not a lot to be said about Arlo Temmings, exhausted high school student, but plenty about the upstart vigilante Stardust. Stardust was not affiliated with the batclan, not really, but Arlo supposed that had more to do with the fact that he really wasn’t the heroic, batarangs blazing, taking down mob bosses kind of vigilante. Arlo’s powers allowed him to heal others, given that he was physically well enough and had eaten enough. He’d always thought all those videos about metahumans and their heightened metabolism were jokes, but ever since he’d woken up with the ability to literally kiss away bruises, he’d been eating nonstop. Protein shakes were his new favorite breakfast, lunch and dinner because you could only eat so many pizzas before you started throwing them up on sight.

Arlo hadn’t even wanted to become a vigilante or do anything that had to do with healing. Honestly, he was planning to graduate high school with a just average enough GPA and then get some average job somewhere. He used to have bigger ambitions when he was twelve and had the coolest best friend possible.

Well, Jason Todd had been the tutor he’d gotten through their schools’ exchange programs, but he’d acted more like a friend. A very nerdy friend who was the living proof that some people got extremely lucky in life while others didn’t, but his friend nonetheless. Jason had planned to get a college degree at a fancy school, out of Gotham and told Arlo he should dream bigger as well, like graduating with honors big. Studying architecture.

Jason would be pretty disappointed to see how terrible Arlo’s grades had gotten, but Jason was dead and dead people couldn’t do shit.

So Arlo knew pretty much nothing about how human bodies worked except that the mitochondria were the powerhouse of the cell. Arlo had been flunking his biology exams ever since he had first been forced to learn about the fact that plants didn’t, in fact, just grow when Poison Ivy decided that now would be an awesome time to wreck an entire city block.

She’d also been the reason he got pushed into this whole hero business. Turned out that Arlo’s abilities were immensely useful when it came to disaster relief and so Stardust had been born. Crime Alley’s very own non-violent superhero, running around in a black hoodie, a Venetian mask covered with stars, and dark, paint-splattered jeans. Nobody had tried to hurt him yet when he walked out. Pushing the bats around who were all too willing to put you away for life was one thing, hurting the kid whose voice cracked when he was nervous, but could heal your broken bones while glowing like a supernova was something different. Arlo enjoyed his immunity, really. He only wanted to help others, make the world a slightly better place. He’d grown up staring at the pretty buildings at the other end of the city, wanting to live in one of them and built his dream around that. This situation wasn’t so different.

Tonight had been one of the bad nights though. Arlo had already gone through most of his snacks as people of all ages came to find him. Usually, he just walked through the streets, people spotted him and pulled him in new directions. It was reckless and stupid, but everybody knew Arlo was kind of untouchable because he cared for everyone and so everyone cared for Arlo.

And it wasn’t like anybody would be waiting for him at home. His father had died years ago and his mother was never there. The streets were kinder, more vibrant and alive, than Arlo’s actual home.

“Thank you,” the girl whose knee he’d fixed whispered.

“No problem,” Arlo repeated and yawned. He was tired and he had an early class tomorrow, or today if he wanted to be honest with himself. He should head back and try to catch at least three hours of sleep.

Arlo grabbed his bike and began heading home. As an unaffiliated vigilante, he didn’t have any fancy bat tech. Red Robin had offered to get him something, but Arlo wouldn’t know where to stick that anyway. Besides, the mob might start roughing him up if they knew he was on Batman’s payroll. So instead, Arlo had an actual normal bicycle. It had been a gift from Red Hood, who’d been a little appalled that Arlo just got everywhere by foot.

“That’s dangerous,” he’d said like he wasn’t waving around a gun at the same time.

Red Hood was a strange vigilante. He was no hero, he hurt and killed people, wrecked and ruined them and left behind a terrifying warzone. But he didn’t hurt kids.

That was one thing every child in Crime Alley knew. As long as you were young still, you didn’t have to fear the Red Hood. Adults were fair game, they were supposed to be better, but kids were just kids. Arlo himself had only just turned fifteen. He’d spent his birthday watching cartoons and doing an extra-long nightshift and then accepted a sleek black bicycle as his birthday present. He was reasonably sure the entire batclan knew who his civilian identity was, Red Hood did for sure or he wouldn’t have been able to deliver the bike to his house door. Arlo stopped his bike and parked it in the small garage all the families on the top floor had to share and made his way upstairs. He stretched and tiredly pulled his keys out of his pocket to open his door when he noticed that it wasn’t closed.

So his mom was back, likely drunk as well. Great.

Arlo pushed open the door and closed it behind himself. Without much care, he walked down the hallway, not bothering to turn on the lights. His mom would just complain about a headache or something. He entered the kitchen and opened up the fridge. Happily, he noticed that his takeout was still there. He took it out of the fridge and fished a fork out of the water basin and began munching on his noodles. He was so freaking hungry. Closing his eyes, he enjoyed his meal.

“Aahrlo?”

Arlo would later claim that he didn’t, in fact, scream, but that was exactly what he did when he heard somebody who was very much not his mother whisper his name. The food dropped on the floor and Arlo twisted around. Behind the table, in the very right corner of the kitchen, sat a dark figure. The must be tall and their hair was an inky black color.

“Red Hood?” Arlo asked and immediately rushed over to the other vigilante. “You- uh. Um, what are you doing here?”

He was pale and Arlo didn’t think it was just because of the moonlight illuminating his skin.

“Head wound,” Red Hood replied. “Didn’ know where else t’ go.”

Arlo kneeled down next to Red Hood and could only now spot the dark red that was quelling out between his hair. Oh, no. No, no, no, no, he was not going to bleed out in Arlo’s kitchen.

“Can you ‘elp?”

He was slurring his words, Arlo was pretty sure that was a bad sign. Due to the bad light, he couldn’t actually make out a lot of his features, and his mask still covered his eyes, but even so, Red Hood sounded so familiar and young. Arlo’s age kind of young. He’d never seen the other vigilante without his red helmet, but he’d assumed he was older. He was so brutal, so skilled.

Nothing like Stardust who barely knew how to throw a punch and was relying on other people’s goodwill.

“Hold still,” Arlo ordered and put his hands on Red Hood’s wound. The vigilante hissed, but Arlo didn’t even twitch anymore. He’d gotten so used to the feeling of blood sticking to his hands, it was almost welcome. He associated it with the rush he got when his powers activated.

“You glow,” Red Hood muttered, entirely out of it. He had lost a lot of blood, but head wounds generally bled a lot, didn’t they? “Like a fairy.”

Arlo giggled nervously and pushed his long dreads behind his back. “A girl I helped tonight told me I look like Rapunzel.”

“Nah,” Red Hood replied. “You’re not stuck in a tower all by yourself. You’re not-“ His breath hitched. “-not lonely at all.”

The wound was slowly closing, not as fast as it usually would, but Arlo was also dead tired.

“I don’t know,” Arlo confessed. “I feel pretty lonely all the time.”

Red Hood laughed, it was a dark and bitter sound, tethering on the edge of a sob or so it seemed to Arlo.

“But you’re good, always were. Helping people and all that. You’re not like me, you don’t fuck up. You stop listening and don’t give in to all that anger. You’re good and you don’t push people away and hurt them all over again.”

Arlo took his hands off Red Hood’s head and rested them on his thighs, blood smearing all over his jeans.

“You’re good too,” Arlo said. “You help people-“

“No,” Red Hood interrupted him harshly. “I just- I just get rid of problems. I shot a man point-blank. His brains just- it was everywhere and the kids were screaming and I just made everything worse but I was so fucking angry and didn’t even care-“

Arlo wasn’t good with words. He didn’t like reading, his dyslexia made it a god damn nightmare, and he couldn’t use all those fancy words he used to practice during tutoring because they felt so foreign on his tongue. Gestures, though, he knew. His parents used to be affectionate. His father was always holding him, had been holding him the day he died, protecting Arlo against debris. Slowly, to avoid startling him, Arlo put his arms around Red Hood. The other man tensed beneath Arlo’s touch, then slowly relaxed in his hold and even went as far as resting his head on Arlo’s shoulder, probably smearing blood all over it.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Arlo said, at loss for words.

“You shouldn’t be,” Red Hood replied. “You really, really shouldn’t.

“Well, I am,” Arlo insisted. “In fact, I’m so glad I’m going to cook you something because I need to eat and you need to eat and then I can heal any other injuries you have as well.”

Arlo kept on blabbering about whatever came to his mind until Red Hood was seated at his kitchen table and Arlo could hardly keep his eyes open anymore.

So, really, there wasn’t much to be said about Arlo Temmings, exhausted high school student and part time vigilante. His grades were held together by duct tape and safety pins and sometimes Red Hood nearly bled out in his kitchen while Arlo made an utter fool of himself and fell asleep on him.

[anxiety-trademark]

The week in review:

Raw 11/09 NXT 11/11 NXT UK 11/12 Smackdown 11/13

Raw:

Shayna vs Lana?? God poor Lana. Preemptive “rip”

Lmfao Lana is so damn extra.

Okay but WHY is Asuka facing Nia later? And where has Asuka even been the past few weeks?

Yikes. Lana is so friggin useless in kf.

Rofl Nia mocking Dana’s voice, I cannot with her.

Did Dana and Mandy actually save Lana from #8?? They got half a point. I get why they’re reluctant to help Lana, but they’re nearly coming off as the mean, popular girls, and I know that’s not their personas. I get she fucked them over, but it was inadvertent. Buy some goodwill guys.

Are they the Gucci girls now? Honestly flashforward to current times, Charlotte fits right in with them. If you were gonna have Charlotte head a stable, Dana and Mandy are the perfect people to put with her.

“We totally saved your butts... Lana.” :/ Dana. Dana plz. With all the work you put into your craft, HOW are you still the weakest promo in the division?

“Okay listen, thank you, you’re welcome,” just let Mandy and Dana practice wrestling cuz their promos are fucking painful.

Lana No-Friends.

Why is Alexa happily destroying flowers??

Lol has no memory of seeing Nikki the week prior. Yikes. Are we still sure it’s not drugs???

“Lexi I’m not playing.” “That’s too bad, Nikki.” What she means, Nikki, is there are 2 options: play or pain. You should just play. Actually side note; wasn’t that Nikki’s whole damn character when she debuted? ‘Nikki wants to play’? ‘Play with Nikki’??

Omfg Alexa is god damn stellar. Nikki tells her to choose either Fiend/Bray or [Nikki]. Alexa thinks about it for a moment, “okay. I choose... *blows the flower petals in Nikki’s face* him!” Then fucking claps, giggles and walks away. Imagine if you had a whole damn roster that could be this entertaining.

Also Nikki is really talented in her own right. Working with Alexa did wonders as far as promos and acting go.

Survivor Series team is supposedly at ringside because Asuka is about to go one on one with Nia. I’m not seeing the correlation.

Shayna officially playing the role of henchman now, I see. That’s interesting.

Asuka does a lot of things worth praising. Her Octopus is not one of them.

It’s always nice seeing Nia bump like she does for Asuka.

Oh that kickout into an armbar by Asuka was BEAUTIFUL.

Asuka said “fuck all y’all we’re busy rn”

I hate Shayna’s hammerfists SO much.

This Survivor Series team is a fucking disaster in kf.

aaaaand there’s number 8. Jeeeeze. “You don’t belong here, you’re gonna drag us down. Just quit.” This is a bullying story done right tbh. No personal petty bs insults, no body shaming. Just straight up physically assaulting the weakest link that has zero friends. It’s a good story. I feel sympathy for sure.

Highlight: Alexa & Nikki backstage segment

---

NXT:

See I don’t mind Shotzi’s backstage promos at all. She exudes passion. I can feel her emotions. But 9 times out of 10 she ends it in a howl and I want to scream.

Weak final thought though. There was really nothing better you could end it on? Okay.

So Xia calls out Raquel and then doesn’t show. Not sure if it’s for kf or meta reasons.

I like Raquel speaking Spanish while brawling. She should incorporate that more, especially with Zelina gone. We need more Latina talent (no disrespect to Bayley or Sasha, if they wanna start speaking Spanish then good on them)

“Everybody better take their-- my name out of their mouth.” SIGH can I get a non-awkward speaker that isn’t Nia? Anyone? Anywhere? Hello??

What the hell does any of this Xia stuff mean? Fine I’ll be patient.

So is Toni a face? I thought she was a heel. Did I misinterpret the heel turn pre-covid era? That’s even worse, she’s even more the same now.

Ugh rough day when I’m here cheering for Toni. God I hate Candice.

Do you really have the right to call anyone a ‘punk rock poser’ Candice? I mean... REALLY?

It’s not that I hate Toni’s headbutt, I just hate it when people take themselves out delivering a headbutt.

Anticlimactic sequence. Toni says fuck your second rope neckbreaker to Candice, then Candice says fuck your second rope leg drop to Toni, just to follow up with a mere kick to the jaw and a pinfall attempt. Missed opportunity to really get something going.

Sad attempt at putting her feet on the ropes by Candice.

Good let Toni be a “sore loser” fuck Candice.

So the masked figure is Indi, right? Why are they keeping her masked? What’s the purpose? Yeahhh that’s really not a surprise. Anyway.

It’s a damn shame what happened in 2020, the whole world has felt it. And it’s a damn shame that you didn’t get to show out in front of 80k people. I truly feel for you. Your loss, however? In kf I can’t feel bad because you sought HER out on HER show. In a meta sense? She did you a favor taking that title. You were 5 seconds from being called Charlotte 2.0, and you deserve better. You deserve the opportunity to grow and make a name for yourself without being handed everything before the age of 25, and you’re SO much better off for it.

The downfall of “nxt’s hottest new act” was a great story. It sucks to be her, but it was a great story. Rhea’s gonna be a fucking STAR on the main roster. She will thrive. She will exceed expectations. She will make a name for herself. She had to eat that humble pie first, though. Obviously I know how this match ends already, and rightfully so. 

Highlight: I guess the Io/Rhea Prime Target

---

NXT UK:

Kind of a bummer that there’s only ever one women’s match/segment every week on UK. I want to ponder whether it’d be different sans a pandemic, but I’m not certain it would be.

Xia Brookside is too animated in her moves, and her moves are always too slow for it to mesh well.

They compliment Xia’s “technical work” but she just comes off as someone who has learned the absolute basics and has no idea how to utilize them in a match.

Interesting to note that they seem to be building up 2 heels in Nina and Jinny, yet the champ herself is a heel. Not quite making me believe either of them have a chance at defeating her in the future.

Nice I always love a good codebreaker. Points to Xia.

That was a nice cartwheel off the turnbuckle using the ropes. One would assume the tweak to the knee was a farce.

Stupid small package. Stupid result. At least Nina got some heat back, but she should’ve won, lesbireal.

Side note: I see UK does in fact have a pc. No excuse for these women to get gassed so quickly then, get it together.

Highlight: The network exclusive video package for KLR vs Piper

---

Smackdown:

What a racy outfit. I don’t hate it, Sasha wears it well.

There’s like a million things you can do with Sasha that doesn’t involve a live promo in the middle of the ring. Explore them plz.

Carmella’s not a technical master by any means, but having her superkick and then finish with a facebuster is super weak.

What’s also weak: where the fuck did Bayley go?

What’s even weaker than that: Carmella had like the best theme music and now it’s gone. Tragic.

Lol why is Nattie stomping her feet like she’s throwing a tantrum? She’s hilarious tbh.

“If team Smackdown is going to win,” lmao let me cut you off right there. Imagine the SD women actually winning at SvS. Good joke.

Omg Chelsea is alive? We gave her a tag match in nxt with the women’s champion Charlotte Flair... Charlotte fucking Flair... and then kept her off tv for like 6 months for this? Is this her grand debut?? Is she even ready for the main roster???

Wait hold on. Back up. So Chelsea touched Adam’s shoulder and had some off camera conversation to make her way into this triple threat match? *sigh* okay.

I don’t quite remember who this team consisted of, but if I had to guess, I’d assume Liv wins this match since Ruby is already on the team.

Love Chelsea’s theme music, love that a giant picture of herself is no longer her titantron... HATE the flowy wedding dress veil that she wears on the bottom half of her outfit.

Should stick Chelsea with Nattie tbh.

What the hell was that by Liv? A fake out standing crucifix turned into a ddt? Fucking beautiful.

Nattie and Liv work together nicely ngl. Liv really does have a lot of potential, but she’s god awful on the mic. Tag team wrestling is best for her for the foreseeable future.

“This is a fatal 4way,” Cole reminds us, because Chelsea and Tamina have seemingly died.

Should’ve just made this a singles match between Liv and Nattie, jesus.

Lmfao Liv pinned Tamina. What took Chelsea out? A dropkick off the apron. A dropkick off the apron took Chelsea out for 3 minutes, and she got maybe 3 moves of offense. Yikes, what a debut.

So when does Bayley get added as captain?

Highlight: The match that totally wasn’t a singles match between Liv & Nattie

---

*Bad week in wrestling, but yet again, Raw shines the brightest because as small as their roster may be, they’re being utilized decently well.

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

TATMILB, chapter 1

Penelope spent her life writing love letters, which didn't seem like a terrible idea until the letters were mailed out and Schneider received one of them. Hoping to fool their exes, they agree to fake a relationship. But are they lying to everyone around them, or to themselves? aka my To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before-inspired AU.

Penelope x Schneider, ODAAT. Available on AO3 with extra author’s notes.

Chapter 1: Penelope's still dreaming of Max, and resenting it. Elena's semester abroad leads to a breakup during family dinner, but all she wants to talk about is Goodwill donations. Airport farewells are bittersweet.

“The heat gets worse every year, I swear,” Penelope groaned, fanning herself with the hotel’s room service menu. “One of these days August is just going to kill me.”

Max turned over, reaching out to twist one of her curls around his finger. “Nothing’s ever gonna kill you, Penelope Alvarez. You’re too fierce for that. And after Afghanistan, I know you can handle a little heat.”

She grinned at him, stretching lazily until her toes curled. This vacation was the best idea she’d had in a while–and though they hadn’t gone far enough away to escape the California heat, at least the room had air conditioning.

Penelope’s t-shirt rode up as she moved, exposing her stomach. Max reached out to run his fingers over her bare skin. “Speaking of heat,” he murmured, leaning in closer.

She chuckled and kissed him, long and slow. With Elena off to college, and her Mami at home with Alex, all she had to do this weekend was relax.

Like he always had, Max made that easy for her. She felt so comfortable with him, so safe, that it took no effort at all to turn a hotel room into their own little oasis away from the rest of the world.

His mouth moved to her neck, trailing kisses down the curve of her shoulder, then lower, his hands sliding underneath the oversized tee she’d slept in.

Penelope was sinking into the rumpled sheets, letting her focus narrow to only the places where she could feel Max touching her, when they were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

“Do not disturb!” She called out, annoyed, squeezing her eyes shut more tightly and willing the unwelcome intruder away.

“Mom!” she heard a voice call back.

It sounded like Alex, which didn’t make any sense. He was at home.

Home.

Penelope’s eyes flew open, adjusting to the dim light around her, which was definitely not the sun filtering through the blinds of a Hilton suite.

That’s right, she realized, dragged back to reality. It was a cool January evening and she was in her bedroom in Echo Park, where she’d fallen asleep before dinner…alone.

Sighing, she sat up and tried to smooth her hair down with her hands. “I’m coming,” she called out, listening as Alex’s footsteps retreated back toward the kitchen.

She and Max had broken up more than a year ago, Penelope thought. How long was she going to keep dreaming about him?

It got more depressing every time she woke up.

****

“There you are, Lupe. Did you have a good rest?”

Lydia set the salad bowl on the table, surveying the tableau critically. After a moment, she nodded to herself and went back into the kitchen to finish plating dinner.

“It was fine, Mami.” Penelope sat next to Alex, glancing over her shoulder when the front door opened. “Hey, Schneider.”

“Hi, Pen. Lydia,” he added, raising his voice, “that smells amazing.”

“Gracias, Schneider.”

“We’ve got a full house tonight,” Penelope warned him. “You’ll have to squeeze in.”

“Really? Who’s here?”

“Elena’s leaving in a week,” she reminded him. “Who do you think?”

“Oh, cool! I wanted to ask Syd if they’ve started the new Star Trek.” He took a seat across from Penelope and watched Lydia bring out the last of the food.

“They’re in Elena’s room. Alex, tell your sister and Syd that dinner’s ready, please.”

He leaned back in his chair, tipping it halfway off the ground before his mom smacked him lightly on the arm.

“Cut that out.”

“Sorry,” Alex said, showing no sign of remorse. Ever since he had grown three inches the previous autumn, he took full advantage of his extra height. Staying flat on the floor this time, he yelled behind him, “Elena! Syd! Food!”

“Papito! I meant get up and go tell them.”

He grinned. “Whoops. Too late, here they come.”

Elena led the way to the table, her long hair pulled back in a messy bun. She was holding Syd’s hand, and they stayed connected as they took two seats side-by-side.

A few weeks after getting it cut, Syd’s hair fell just above the neckline of the white t-shirt they were wearing. It had a wooden stake in the center with the words “I’m A Slayer, Ask Me How” printed across it in red.

“Wow, this looks great,” Syd said, letting go of Elena’s hand to reach for a napkin. “Thanks again for letting me stay for dinner.”

“Of course,” Lydia assured them. “The more, the merrier, especially before Elena’s big trip.”

“Only a week left, huh?” Schneider tucked his phone away, frowning at it before focusing on Elena across the table. “How excited are you right now?”

“God, so excited.” She grinned. “It’s gonna be weird, being away from everybody for three months. I know I’ll probably get homesick…but England! I mean, can you imagine? All that history, the culture. It’s such an amazing opportunity.”

“London’s pretty cool,” he agreed. “You’ll like the museums. Oh, when you get the chance, you’ve gotta check out the Postal Museum. You can ride in the actual tunnels under the city that they used to deliver the mail!”

Elena nodded. Her patient smile was only a little strained around the edges. “Text me the info, okay? I’ll add it to the list of one hundred and two Schneider-approved destinations you’ve already sent me.”

“I just want you to have fun. I’ve been to London a dozen times, and there’s a lot of cool stuff you won’t see on school tours.”

“I know. And I appreciate it. But I’m studying abroad, emphasis on studying. I can’t spend too much time wandering the city or I’ll miss out.”

The idea that soaking up the London atmosphere would equal ‘missing out’ seemed crazy to him, but Schneider let it go. Elena loved school in a way he never had.

“So,” he said, looking to Syd. “Are you caught up on Picard yet? I’m dying to talk about it and apparently your girlfriend doesn’t have time for fun.”

Elena rolled her eyes at him and dug into her salad.

“Yes, I’m totally caught up! Can you believe they brought back…” Syd trailed off with a glance around the table. “On second thought, I’ll text you later. Spoilers.”

“Right. Good call.”

“Speaking of fun,” they added, a smile tugging at the corners of their mouth, “I have something for you, Elena.”

She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth, staring at the envelope Syd was sliding her way. “For me? It’s a little early for a going away present.”

“I know, but this wouldn’t be a great last-minute gift.”

The long silence after Elena opened the envelope was deeply uncomfortable. Penelope knew her daughter well enough to recognize the absence of joy.

The rest of the family felt it too; everyone was collectively holding their breath through the seconds before Elena pulled out the tickets and looked back up at Syd.

“What is this?”

“A surprise.” Syd reached out and squeezed her hand. “I knew you might get homesick, and videochat won’t be the same…so I’m coming to London for two weeks! Don’t worry, it’s right in the middle of your semester so you won’t have to entertain me during finals or anything.”

“Why did you do this without talking to me first?”

“That’s kind of the definition of a surprise.” They were waiting for Elena’s surprise to turn into happiness, but she almost looked…upset.

“And you had to surprise me in front of everybody? A week before I leave?”

She cut herself off, taking a deep breath. The last thing she wanted was to get into a fight at the table. “Syd, let’s go talk in my room, okay?”

“Elena, what’s wrong?”

“Please. My room.” Her knuckles were white where she was gripping the tickets, and she could feel her whole family’s eyes on her, which was not helping.

Visibly concerned, Syd went without another word. The others watched them go, Schneider fidgeting in his seat and Penelope biting her lower lip.

She had been prepared for Elena’s semester abroad to strain her daughter’s relationship, but not for things to get this tense before she left. As hard as it was to hold back now that Elena was seventeen, Penelope knew there wasn’t much she could do. Just be ready to listen, and offer advice, if Elena let her.

She sighed and faced her plate. “Back to dinner, guys. You know if we’re all gawking at them when they come back out, Elena’s gonna lecture us about respect or autonomy or human rights.”

Things were quiet for several minutes, nothing but the sounds of forks scraping plates and bowls to keep them from listening in.

A clear, loud “You still want to control everything!” definitely came from Syd, followed by Elena’s even louder “Then why are you even dating me?”

But mostly the silence was ominous and stretched on–for ten minutes, then twenty. Schneider and Lydia made small talk with Alex gamely joining in to try and cover the tension.

Penelope worried and tried not to seem like she was worried, until Elena returned. She took her seat at the table, motionless while Syd emerged from her room a few moments later.

Carrying their bag, they lifted a hand in the family’s direction. “Thanks for dinner, but I have to go. Sorry.”

The front door was barely shut behind Syd before Alex asked, “What happened?”

Elena’s eyes filled. “Syd and I broke up.”

“What!?”

The chorus from her entire family, Schneider included, was a mix of surprise, concern, and disbelief. It shattered her resolve.

Elena started crying, quiet tears falling as Penelope rushed to fold her into a hug. Lydia and Alex were only a few moments behind.

Though Schneider caught Pen’s glance in his direction, he waited until the others had circled Elena with murmured words of comfort and gentle hands trying to soothe before he followed.

Alex’s growth spurt had put him almost an inch above his older sister now, but Schneider was still so much taller than them all–he towered over the family as he wrapped his arms around Penelope and Lydia and pressed his cheek to the top of Elena’s head.

“I’m okay.” Elena sucked in a shuddering breath and tried to detangle herself from the group so she could wipe the tears off her cheeks. “I’m fine. Thank you, everybody, but I’m gonna be just fine.”

“Elena, you had a big fight with your Sydnificant Other. You don’t have to be okay. We’re all here for you, as soon as you’re ready to talk about it.”

“And I appreciate that. But there’s nothing to talk about. We didn’t just fight, Mom. We’re over. It’s over, and I for one want to go to London ready to enjoy the trip. Not moping over things that are in the past.”

“It happened like two seconds ago,” Alex pointed out with a frown.

“And I’m ready to move forward. Okay?”

She could feel all of them watching her, their worry filling the air until it was hard to breathe. She knew how she sounded, how they probably thought she looked. Crazy. Heartbroken.

But it was too much. Their loving concern was making this harder.

“Elena…”

“No. Abuelita, I just need some space.”

When she left them there, escaping to her room, nobody followed.

****

Penelope gave Elena the space she wanted until after lunch on Saturday.

Elena spent all morning in her room, skipping breakfast, slipping in and out of the bathroom before anyone had the chance to speak to her.

When she appeared at the table, pushing food around her plate without eating it, everyone talked a little too brightly, trying to ignore the dark circles under her eyes. Schneider and Alex moved to the couch after lunch while Lydia busied herself clearing the table, and Penelope followed Elena to her room.

“Time to talk.” Penelope shut the door behind her. “I understand wanting to pretend you’re not hurting–believe me, I get it. But this came from out of nowhere, and now I’m worried about you, making such a huge change in your life right before you leave.”

“It didn’t come out of nowhere. I'll be graduating this summer, and the trip was just part of the problem. But you’re right, I am leaving soon, which is why I can’t get distracted. Academics has to come first.”

“You were together almost two years, Elena. That’s a big deal.”

“It’s over now. And no, I don’t want to talk about it. Especially since my flight is in six days, which barely gives us enough time.”

“Enough time to…what, exactly?”

“To go through the house and put together boxes to take to Goodwill.”

As Elena went to her closet, Penelope stared after her, confused by the abrupt subject change.

“You promised we last month, remember? To reduce the amount of stuff we all keep but never use anymore. And since I’m gonna be gone for so long–and we all know this household is going to be way less green without me–it’s the perfect time.”

“Mija, reorganizing the apartment isn’t going to fix what happened with Syd. Or make it hurt less.”

“Mom.” Elena handed her an empty box. “I’m not trying to fix anything except the amount of waste we generate. When we forget what we own because we never look at it, it’s really easy to buy extra copies of things we already have. This will save you money too!”

There was an obvious edge to Elena’s words that screamed avoidance to Penelope, and it was that–her daughter, in pain–more than the logical argument that made her agree.

“Fine. I will give you two hours today, and I’ll help get Alex on board. But that’s it. This is my weekend too.”

“Awesome. Okay.” Elena looked around her room with a critical eye. “I’m going to start in here, and then I’ll deal with Abuelita.”

“You do that. I’ll go see what I have to bribe your brother with,” Penelope replied. “Afterwards, maybe we could all go out to eat. Somewhere fun.” Somewhere that will distract you for a minute, she added silently. The only real cure for heartbreak was time, but until then, distraction was the best she could offer.

“That sounds nice,” Elena agreed before snapping back into project mode. She was already pulling clothes out of her closet to lay on her bed as Penelope left.

****

“You’ve got your boarding pass?”

“It’s on my phone,” Elena told Penelope for the third time.

“Passport?” Schneider chimed in.

“In my bag,” she confirmed.

“Lipstick?” Lydia ventured hopefully.

“Very funny.” Elena hugged her, holding on for a long time. One semester hadn’t seemed like forever until now, with them all at the airport while she was imagining what might happen in her absence. “Please take care of yourself while I’m gone, Abuelita. No dancing, okay? And leave your heels on the shelf.”

“Ah, si, si, of course.” She winked at Alex, without even trying to hide it from her granddaughter. “I will be very careful.”

“You better. I’m gonna worry.”

Elena turned to Alex, whose hands were shoved in his pockets watching her. “Come here, would you?” She pulled him into a hug. “I’ll miss you.”

“You too,” he said as she stepped back. “Do something not nerdy while you’re there in honor of me. Something European and cool.”

“I’ll try,” Elena agreed with a smile.

“Oh, come on,” she protested, when she looked to Schneider next and realized he was sniffling. “I’m not going to be gone that long! Pull yourself together.”

“The family won’t be the same without you,” he told her, ignoring her eyeroll. “Speaking of the family, how about we go grab you some snacks for the flight? I’ve heard that the food in coach is…not great.”

Schneider led Alex and Lydia off to give Penelope a few minutes alone with Elena, and Penelope forced herself to take a steady breath. The panic setting in was normal–she was allowed to be nervous. This was Elena’s first trip to another continent. Just breathe, and keep it together.

She wasn’t sure how Schneider knew she needed the time, but Penelope was grateful.

“Be careful over there, you hear me? Listen to what they tell you at orientation, and stick with any group you’re in when they take you on tours. If you go out at night alone–well, I want to say don’t go out at night alone, but I know you will, so just be really careful! And I know you’re going to be focused on your classes, which is important, but make sure you take some time to explore. You’re not just there to study–this is a chance to experience things you couldn’t do by staying home, so take advantage of it.”

She squeezed Elena hard, kissing her cheek and then wiping away the hint of lipstick she left behind.

“Mom!”

“What? It’s a long way, baby. You’re going so far away.”

“I know. But it’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

“Me?” Blinking through sentimental tears, Penelope scoffed. “Of course I’ll be fine. Your Mami is a badass. I’m just going to miss you.”

“Yeah.” Elena reached out impulsively for a second hug. “I get that. Don’t spend the whole semester missing me, though, okay? Go be a badass.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know, Mom, you seem lonely sometimes.” Elena looked like she wanted to say more, but she saw the rest of the family returning and left it at that.

They were carrying too many snacks, as well as two books and a sweatshirt, “because the UK gets cold,” Schneider told her helpfully.

Penelope tried to pay him back for the trove of gifts, but he waved her off. “She deserves to travel in style, don’t you think?” Schneider put his arm around Penelope as they all watched Elena go through the security line.

Her daughter’s squared shoulders and steady gait were a comfort to Penelope as Elena disappeared around the corner–as was Schneider’s presence next to her.

Elena was ready for adventure, and even if Penelope didn’t feel totally ready to see her take the leap, at least she wasn’t alone in watching her go.