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tvmigraine · 1 year ago

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Phantala Syndrome: Prelude

The following is a written piece I wrote for some friends to help give them an idea of the "City of Mist" game I'm running. It's set in a city run by Disney and promoted to be idyllic, hiding a seedy underbelly of conspiracies and supernatural events.

You can read it below! Expect more as I write stuff for my players, or any other story that gets requested.

DISNEY CITY OPENS: WILL IT HAVE A FAIRY-TALE ENDING? Article by Bella-Rae Bellamy

After over ten years of demanding work, Disney Imagineering happily announced the completed development of their experimental community “Storyliving by Disney” towns. Originally unveiled back in 2022 and first accepting applicants back in 2027, Disney began construction in California of a city that would be staffed by Disney employees and cast members, with the goal of making audiences feel closer to their favourite properties than ever. Now, Walter’s Hope is open and has available housing for any members of the public to move. As the project as ends and the general public are finally able to access Walter’s Hope, it has become a haven for people looking for a second chance at life. With over 2,000 households, one Disney employee reveals a majority of their newest families have “been immigrants or veterans, people that need those fresh starts. It has been reassuring to know that they have found a place to just be their truest selves, where imagination can really be harnessed in ways they might have forgotten. Our founder, Walt Disney, always envisioned a world where we would all be able to let our creativity live hand in hand and he’d be overjoyed with the work we’ve done here.” One of the biggest selling points to Walter’s Hope is its hand-in-hand association with Disney, which can be seen obviously just in the sight of its familiar mouse-shaped landscape. It is two signature ears hold two of their main promotional districts themed after popular brands – the “Princess” District to the left and the “Villains” District, both holding a more regal landscape and Vegas-like attitude guaranteed to bring in tourists. Where there is smaller “Marvel” and “Star Wars” residential districts that offer their own pieces of excitements (and experimental exhibits you would expect from Disneyland itself), most people will find themselves living in the “Oswald Park” residential district, named after their long forgotten mascot Oswald the Lucky Rabbit. Early settlers in Walter’s Hopehave already given raving reviews, with kids able to enjoy the excitements of an amusement park while parents get the comfort of a normal day-to-day life. One mother commented that other families “should expect to see a lot of kids around the area, riding on bikes and getting into trouble.” Walter’s Hope already made headlines when, early on in the project, the “Storyliving Lottery” was held and allowed five families to move into one of the five main districts. This sparked controversy when the original winner of the lottery was rushed to hospital shortly after moving due to what was officially labelled as a major gas leak. When asked to comment, a Disney reassured us that “this issue was a one-time situation. Every other house has been thoroughly checked and we can reassure all potential citizens that there is nothing to worry about.” But this may not be as reassuring as it first appears. Already, rumours and urban legends have begun to spread about Walter’s Hope, ranging from the sinister to the supernatural. While the crime rate has remained low in the early months, half a dozen disappearances have been reported in the poorer parts of their residential district, which houses many of the marginalised households. Along with that, reports have been made of Disney’s attempts to cover up underground constructions of alleged tunnel systems beneath Walter’s Hope. Any attempts to receive an official comment from Disney affiliation was ultimately declined. All this raises the question, is Walter’s Hope the picturesque fairy tale city that we have all been led to believe? Or should the public expect to hear more bad news in the future about Disney’s long awaited experiment? For more information, or your own booking, go to storylivingbydisney.com/residency/walters_hope and go from there.

~~~~~~

Fireworks lit up the skies of Walter’s Hope, their grand official opening already going just as planned. For many families they were already settling into their homes, getting themselves to bed or mingling with neighbours as parties were starting to take up the streets. The two leading districts were seeing what’d be the most business they’d come across, as men and women partied, drank, and gambled away their money either on games or knick-knacks that’d be thrown into a bin only a week later.

For many, they were enjoying their second chance.

Simon was enjoying the cool breeze before he’d have his head cut off.

Was it petty that the only ting that upset him was the blood splattering his suit? He’d had it custom made by the finest tailor in the city, hair brushed just perfect to make it clear to everybody who had the power, who was in charge. All of that felt rather meaningless in his current state – his hair, formerly neatly parted and travelling down his back, now had chunks missing out of it where he’d grappled with the thug that’d attacked him. The blood splattered across his chest where his arm had been broken, nearly torn out of its socket before it was instead slashed at with a disc-shaped blade. Funny, he thought to himself, I’d have rather liked getting my hands on that.

At the end of the pier leading to Monstro Lake, Simon Gaskill was on his knees with the biker still standing over him, his knife in hand. Behind him, Simon could see someone walking down. She’d just gotten out of a black car, she must’ve been behind this. Somebody else after the Throne, maybe? She wore a tight blue dress over a plump frame, covering her face from view with a large-brimmed hat. It was hard to make her out, but she had the look of somebody in charge, somebody that’d grown docile from being at the top of the food chain. Simon couldn’t resist smiling, maybe he could tear her apart in a moment. He just needed the right opportunity. Then when he got home, he could eat whatever he hadn’t torn off of her body.

“Step away from him,” she instructed the biker. He dutifully listened. Good, Simon thought, an even better opportunity.

“You’ve been rather a pain, Mr Gaskill,” the blonde woman told the man as he remained kneeling. He couldn’t undo the ropes around his wrists, she found that to be reassuring. In the few short months that Simon Gaskill had been here, he’d made a reputation for himself as a man eater, hardly a cannibal not someone who’d refrain from the taste. “Several of my men have come back in more than one piece and, I can’t help but notice, it’s been happening in some of my district. Care to explain that.”

Gaskill shrugged, smirking playfully as he told her “Maybe they were mistaken.” He had that hunger in his eyes, like a starved animal. The woman sighed in disappointment. “You are well aware of our agreement. Your people remain in your district…” Her hand landed on his shoulder, her thumb digging into the wound the biker had left. “And we remain in ours.”

Simon hissed in pain, her touch was as cold as ice and the wound was chillingly worse for it. He yelled at her, “Then how come your men are trying to come to my area! You say you want to honour our agreement but don’t think I can’t tell what you’re doing. Whoever you are, digging into my territory? There’s trouble coming for you.”

The woman looked at him in confusion. “Your territory?” She asked curiously, shaking her head. “No, no, that can’t be right. That territory belongs to whoever is in charge, truly, of the Villains District and you? Well, you’ve been voted out.”

Gaskill had to hold himself back from shooting to his feet. “Excuse me?”

“It’s very simple. You broke the rules you agreed to, so the rest of your little crime ring simply voted you out.”

“I’m their Caesar, they can’t do that to me!”

“Oh no, they can,” the woman corrected. “It was a rather simple process and while there will be a power vacuum for the time being, no doubt another dirty little snake like yourself will fill that space. You have a talent for that.” She crouched down by Simon, putting on a mocking face of pity. “Oh, I’m sorry, were you not there for that meeting?”

Simon growled in fury. Not like a man who’d just had his life, his empire, snatched away from him, but like a wild animal that’d managed to break into another animal’s enclosure. His face was distorting to reflect that as a muzzle pushed out from his face, his bones cracked and breaking into place. His teeth became jagged as he lunged. With a speed that was unrivalled by many, he sunk his teeth into the woman’s shoulder. He’d aimed for the neck, but her scream of pain showed that he hadn’t focused properly enough to get where he wanted. He pulled his teeth out of her to try and lunge again.

The biker struck first.

With a single upwards slice from the disc-shaped blade, Simon Gaskill was struck dead on the end of the pier. His body tumbled off the end and landed in the waters of the lake, floating motionless as the red spread around him.

The biker moved to the woman, but she just yelled at him, “Get off of me, you idiot!” She held her shoulder for only a moment before feeling ice starting to spread across it sharply. “Damn it, gloves, give me my gloves!” She demanded from the biker, who quickly obliged. She put on the soft velvet and moved to the end of the pier, staring at the lion-faced body.

“So much for ‘Long Live the King’, I suppose,” she openly mused. The biker remained silent to her disappoint, it was more fun when there was someone willing to talk about her plans, especially when one was going so well. She held her shoulder as it bled, this could be dealt with soon. “Now we merely leave the dogs to tear themselves apart,” she openly mused, “and we’ll have the whole of Hope to ourselves. And you’ll be rewarded handsomely, I can promise.”

The biker remained silent, causing her to huff childishly. “It wouldn’t hurt for you to show some admiration,” she grumbled. He merely gestured back to her car, as if to hurry along. The woman nodded and told him, “I will return to my castle. You know your next mission and you will not return to me until you find that boy. This will all be for nothing if somebody gets to him before me, do you understand?”

The biker nodded, placing the ring blade onto his back. She nodded and made it back to her car, while he travelled to his bike. They sped off in opposite directions but both heading towards the same goal.

Simon Gaskill’s remains would go nowhere, except aimlessly floating deeper into Monstro Lake. If he waited long enough (which a corpse was very good at), he might even chance an encounter with the creature itself.

~~~~~~

In one week, the first child would be reported missing.

A few days later, the second child would follow.

The third child would be unique. Unlike the last two that had been snatched when their parents weren’t looking, Max Kingston would get on his bike at midnight and run away from home without saying a word. When his parents went to find him in the morning, they found a single note on his bed as a clue to find him.

#phantala syndrome #city of mist #original writing #disney #my writing

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tabernaclehearts · 10 months ago

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ENG190 Process Letter #2

Dear Professor Leong,

Hello!

First, allow me to apologize for missing classes last week—to be perfectly honest, my ankle is still quite swollen and uncomfortable to walk in, but bearable with a brace. Apparently it’s a “pretty bad” sprain, and the healing time is estimated to be over a month, which is quite unfortunate. I have been relying on the bus to attend classes, so I apologize in advance in case I am late.

Anyways, onto the annotated bibliography. I realize that it’s a little difficult to conduct precise research on Cha, given that there is so much about her that is still unsolved and blurry due to her early passing. There wasn’t enough time for her to explain her work, if she wanted to. In addition to this, most (if not all) of the secondary sources I’ve come across are centered around Dictée rather than Exilée (which makes sense, given that Exilée had been previously unpublished until recently), so most of my findings have been more geared towards Dictée, which is better than nothing and a relief since they are closely tied together, even if Exilée is a lot more autobiographical. As of now, I’ve been doing deep searches on the UC Berkeley Library Database as well as JSTOR, and more recently I’ve been walking around the Ethnic Studies Library, which I honestly didn’t know existed until our class made a visit (thank you for that!).

I find that I feel the best (or most immersed) when I am sitting in the dark room of BAMPFA’s basement, re-watching Cha’s reading of Exilée. As I had noted before, her voice is a lot thinner or softer than I had imagined—I guess this is precisely because I had previously based my opinions off of what I’ve read about her, a feminist icon or a light burning in the dark, rather than listening to her directly. Not to say that these things are false, it's just the "vibes" that I got from outside information. I’ve read about the ways in which she challenges our natural desire to read comprehensible things, our desire for things to be “easy”—her desire to be untranslatable, etc. But when I listen to her and it is just the two of us, I hear a troubled young woman who is just trying to make sense of her own distance. I do not see a grand, heart-pulling performance of sword-fighting and rally-cries in Exilée—I only see honesty, simplicity, above that: confusion, and above everything else: the desire to understand what had once been confusing. (Maybe I am projecting myself onto her a little bit, oops.)

And perhaps, I think it’s the setting of the environment itself that may also be influencing my experience, a small dark room where I am free to adjust the volume and brightness of the screen, flicking through each and every one of her pieces, as well as symposiums and collaborations. I feel that if I were to watch it in a gallery, her voice booming over deliberately-placed speakers and surrounded by people, the experience would be notably less intimate and I would probably be less moved. You see, Cha flourishes in intimate spaces—in fact, she wrote a letter to her mother in 1978 which details this perfectly:

“I like to let other people know that there is a pure, lily-like simplicity and beauty somewhere in the world…I’ll be satisfied with illuminating my ideas like a clear mirror to one or two persons. Anyway, if I am good, someone will listen to my voice.”

The line, "If I am good, someone will listen to my voice," haunts me sometimes. Indeed, voice perception—I may be going off on a tangent here, but I find it very interesting to see her humble satisfaction of revealing her truths to just a handful of people who take the time to “listen”, to perceive her true, unyielding voice. I guess what I mean to say is that I hope to be one of them.

This being said, I probably have to do more research to get into the details of Exilée, now with the generous support of Dictée. I’ve found a few articles and journals that express a very deep understanding of Cha’s work and her voice. I am especially interested in Kimberly Lamm’s work, “Mouth Work: Writing the Voice of the Mother Tongue in the Art of Theresa Hak Kyung Cha” as it almost exactly reflects my own process of thinking when I saw Mouth to Mouth for the first time at BAMPFA (it’s located in Gallery 6, I believe). Something that I’ve noticed (and Lamm too), is the physicality of speech (IPA, movement of the tongue / mouth / throat) in Cha’s work, whether it be in Mouth to Mouth, Dictée, or Exilée. There is always an emphasis on a speaker and receiver, and it is this exact relationship that she creates and maintains that I would like to explore further.

Thank you for sending me Timothy Yu's work, I am having a great time reading through his most recent review.

Best,

Jinju

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septembersung · 2 months ago

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Alright then (cracks knuckles) here we go:

I’m having trouble fleshing out the give and take of the dystopian future which is the setting for “the next great american (catholic) space novel.” My goal is have several clear factions, in the different parts of the society, with different goals and interpretations, and their fighting around the main characters is the context of the plot.

I’m going to lay out the narrative set up and the goal (so spoilers I guess) and would love suggestions on how to make this work in 3D. I’ve got a crystal clear vision of a hazy concept, as it were.

The year is 2100-something and over regulation and woke think prevails in the United States, politically and in the Catholic Church.

Politically: the government takes overpopulation very seriously, despite rock bottom birth rates; the bogeyman of “resource scarcity” does a lot of heavy lifting. Life and gender issues are legislated in ways that make it difficult to be a faithful Catholic openly or even to mind your own business. The kinds of things you see happening now in various places but ramped up and more universal.

Religiously, I think it would be neat if orthodox Catholics had to operate underground a la China but I need more concrete information to write that. How does one even learn what that’s like? This is a society where the woke version of the faith is the only acceptable one and because of equality and hate speech laws, society gets to enforce that in a way.

Part of the reason I’m having trouble is because I don’t actually care too much about the specifics, I just need an atmosphere of persecution because the protagonist and her people do a lot of “illegal” things and this interplay contributes to the climax. Like, the protagonist’s brother attends an underground seminary with a cover job and her sister is a reporter whose articles hide coded messages to the underground church in diaspora. I’m less interested in why it has to be that way than the fact that that’s just cool and I want to see their adventures.

Another reason is I want real and recognizable problems to illustrate the problem for the characters but I don’t have the political imagination to guess what that could look like. Really I just want a couple solid foundation concepts to set a backdrop for the action which until the very end is pretty much character based.

The story is actually in 3 parts. There’s the “present”, which I’m trying to flesh out politically here, the flashbacks to the founding members of the farm in pioneer days in the form of a rediscovered journal the protagonist reads, and the “future” which takes place in space with the protagonist’s descendant(s).

The arc of the “present” story is that the protagonist comes from a family farm with a long history which has withstood attempts to be bought out for generations and stayed in business by the skin of its teeth and adapting despite governmental overreach and other problems (what other problems? Idk.) She wants to take over the farm some day (her siblings are doing other things) but Something ?? forces her to go to the city and work there where she ends up doing secret pro life work. She wants to come back to the farm permanently. The big new thing is that “life ships” are real now and there’s government versions and private sector versions and deep space colonization is the exciting new frontier. Some people think this is a great win for freedom and some think the gullible are being rounded up for nefarious purposes; some that the government and private sector are in conflict and some think they’re cooperating behind the scenes. Huge ethical questions about governance and what’s real vs misinfo and prisoners and colonization and then there’s smaller but very focal faction that thinks humanity is a blight and shouldn’t continue or colonize, which turns to terrorism. The extended family has tensions within itself and different family groups don’t agree with or trust the others. The tension is, the farm is coming under scrutiny and probably going to be taken away from them; the world is falling apart with wars, famine that keeps coming closer, and then a plague; and the protagonist who wants to stay at home and farm ends up on a life ship against her will. By accident? Forced by the government? Kind of both? Idk.

This story has been in development since like 2017 and I’m a bit annoyed that real life events keep being a little too on the nose tbh.

Also the major fictional private sector life ship corporation is Star Tech, because I’m hilarious. (Don’t tell me if this already exists just let me have my fun.)

If you have fun thoughts to add to the mix feel free to reply here or message me!

For the record I absolutely intend to answer everyone’s questions about these sci-fi dystopian government concepts and generate discussion I’m just chained to real life for a bit and I’ve got to figure out how to make a nebulous concept do words

#my life #the next great anerican space novel

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hickeys-dickey · 4 years ago

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Pls share your thoughts about the gays in THAT scene… I would love to read them!

Ahh you are too kind, I am but a little swiss cheese brain but I'll try my best to sum up my thoughts, I have too many! I wanted a chance to grab some screenshots too! I'm going to put a read more because this is a long one buckle up lads.

So obviously the whole punishment for Hickey is designed to humiliate him (I would imagine this is one of the reasons his punishment isn't explained to him, because if Hickey truly was a naval petty officer he would know, and I think it's another way for Crozier to essentially say "I see you" and not in a good way). The fact we're not shown the other whippings shows the importance lies in the scene with Hickey.

I've seen a bit of discussion about his charge of "dirtiness", which isn't listed initially when we see him being questioned by the Captains, and whether or not it alludes to homosexuality but on a quick cursory search it does seem to have been used as a euphemism where an outright accusation of sodomy would mean a death sentence. The way Crozier throws it out there, no doubt to heap the humiliation onto Hickey and add crimes to the list to cover the fact he added lashes on to the punishment essentially for a bruised ego (but that's another matter), suggests a whole lot of venom to the accusation. Hickey's pointed look at Irving and Irving's quick shift of his gaze down suggests they both know exactly why Crozier has listed this among Hickey's list of crimes, and Hickey looks furious for it.

But I think this is also ultimately where the panic begins to set in. Again, there are far greater minds than me who have made excellent posts about queer coded characters in the terror, and I think it's no surprise that most of them are the faces that are focused on in this scence. It is clear long before this moment that Crozier's leadership is lacking, and people have already begun to voice concerns fairly loudly. Tozer for one is livid in the wake of Heather being injured, and the marines have clearly started distancing themselves from both the officers and the men. I feel like this scene, for a lot of characters is a point of major shift in either allegiences or character.

Tozer and the Captains are the first faces that are panned to in this scene and I think the expressions speak for themselves.

Tozer is visibly upset/concerned after the first lash. I do think guilt probably has a part to play, in that is was him whole told Hickey where Silna was, and presumably approved enough of the plan to not rat him out to anyone. Again, very probably part of Tozer's anger at Heather being injured due to what he sees is Crozier's poor management. Fitzjames is stoney faced, but is also the only one looking. As a man who many have noted pushes himself to pick emotional scabs, I think it would make sense for someone who is also notably queer coded and stuggles with trauma to make himself look directly at someone being whipped for a crime he himself might commit. Crozier isn't even looking, whether out of suddenly doubting his harshness or simply triggering something in his own memory it's not clear. I think the end of this shot also speaks for itself.

(Fig 1. Three Concerned (very likely not straight) men contemplate)

The lads at the back behind Mr. Johnson are all looking Directly At the whipping as it is taking place. Interestingly none of the men at the front near the table are looking. This is the stewards, officers, and marines. Whether out of respect or also Concern at their own skins (I think every one of these characters has been addressed as being queer coded at some point, minus the marines who are all, except Tozer, fairly nameless characters).

I'm not a gifmaker which is unfortunate for this section, though this is what is gifed in the beautiful gifset by sashneeka I reblogged (x). Tommy is also visibly upset, whether because he knows Tozer was involved in the plot to kidnap Silna and is concerned for him and any of the rest of the crew who had assisted in someway or voiced support. Billy interestingly does look briefly, and sets his jaw after in a way that suggests he's trying to fight the guilt of being the one to tell Irving about the whole affair with Hickey to paint himself in a better light. It could just as easily be Billy there on that table being lashed, but he somehow rationalises it in his head (probably because Hickey is a little bastard) that he was right in what he did. He does look down fairly guiltily after this, so maybe he hasn't quite settled on an opinion. Jopson also looks incredibly concerned/unsettled, and interestingly looks at Hickey right up until the whip hits where he flinches, and not for the only time in this scene. From what we know about Jopson's past, though not at this point, it may well be he is remembering similar punishment/mistreatment and like Fitzjames looks enough to pick the scab open and flinch from his own trauma.

The closeup of Hickey shows the full extent of his rage and humiliation building, and as I think Adam himself said, they whipped something out of Hickey that day and let him reach this potential that lay inside him (to become an even bigger bastard). He's fully severed all ties and feelings of loyalty after this and it becomes full on train to manipulation station from this point. I have a lot of Thoughts about Hickey also (which I am sure you are all aware of) but I think there was some semblance of Hickey attempting to start afresh on this journey, or at the very least keep his head down and go unnoticed. The trouble is, he notices Crozier as a flawed man, and one not from the upper classes like himself, and his ego can't help but think we're not so different, that could be me with the right connections. Well surprise lads, its murder time now and he's gonna make this old man pay for not recognising initiative but punishing it. I do wonder if Crozier wasn't booze sick and rattled from losing even more men under his command, would he not have come down so harshly for someone clearly defying the Articles to do what he thinks is right and save the men (a la Crozier and his fuck you I'm directly contradicting an order and leading this rescue party myself).

Tozer gets another wee closeup here and again looks like he has resolved something in his head too. Most likely that he thinks Crozier an unfit leader, and admiring Hickey for having the balls to do what he did (Hickey also never reveals anyone else who came with him, and when he talks about Hartnell and Mason's part in taking Silna it highlights their skill and bravery and (he thinks) commends them to the Captain. It's probably the only time we see him building up and applauding others). He looks dead ahead here and seems to have a very steely gaze, like yep fuck it looks like I'm going it alone now. It is interesting that Tozer goes from this to notably disliking Hickey (both at the start and when they are packing up - "you've just given me an excuse to give a big shove". This might be anger at Hickey having caused all the issues with Silna after the fact when Heather gets killed at Carnivale), but still follows him in the end. Hickey has the ability to kill, manipulate, steal, basically do whatever needed for their group to get ahead, which means Tozer can be part of the group and not have to dirty his own hands. I think Tozer probably has a complicated relationship with Hickey, but he does fall for the charm hook, line, and sinker, and the fact he seems concerned for him here suggests how easily he is sympathetic to those he sees as being wronged.

Gibby getting Hickey's blood on his hand (ayy) seems to visibly make him blanch, and I do find it interesting that the shot then pans to Tommy as though they are looking at each other when they are stood side by side. The similarities between them maybe? (I've seen and reblogged a lot of discourse about Tommy loving Tozer, maybe another nod to no one being so different to the man on the table?) Irving doesn't get much of a close up in the rest of this scene but bless him he looks equal parts terrified and guilty (another man who has been noted as having a list of many things to distract from the Gay Thoughts like why do you need to distract from Gay Thoughts Irving?). He also has the Far Off Look of trauma about him, probably because he too could just as easily be on that table.

I have many many thoughts about the way Hickey turns to look (and fucking smile???) at Crozier next, which is when Crozier is looking directly at him and Fitzjames looks at him. Like if I were Crozier I think my fucking blood would chill, look at this man. Being humiliated and lashed still hasn't broken him, if anything he has just become fully unhinged and looks at Crozier as though to say "did you really think this would work?". I would also say, this man has fairly quite for someone who is at this stage something like 22 lashes in? Like what the actual fuck Hickey?? I fully belive Hickey to be a psycopath, and most of what he does in the beginning of the series is an attempt to stay hidden until they get to Hawaii and he can ditch the crew, but I think it is fairly safe to say he isn't hiding it any more.

And he knows this is going to make the men doubt Crozier - I can't do a proper search because I am using my work laptop atm, but I seem to remember reading that a punishment greater than 12 lashes required a court martial (probably why Little steps in to say so when Crozier orders his punishment as well as them technically being lost at sea), which would be another strike against him as a Captain. Not only that, but Crozier does seem to grant him some mercy in letting him only be lashed I think 23 or so times? Probably because the tension is fucking palpable in this whole scene and Crozier can either choose to claw back some sense of control on the matter, or deal with the consequences of many people admiring Hickey for what he has done for the crew and start a mutiny. I think this is the first time Fitzjames sees the damage Crozier is doing to himself with his choices as Captain, and is probably just as concerned at the look Hickey is giving him. He knows this has unleashed something in this tiny rat bastard too, and that he will become the physical manifestation of Crozier's self-destructive tendancies. Crozier perpetually comes to everything just a fraction too late to change anything - he never saves any of the men, only comforts them as they die, and a lot of this has to do with his own ego and bad decision making, and I think this is the first example here of the fact his actions are having an effect on others to the point it will be his downfall.

Anyway, to round it off, I think this scene really epitomises the notion that Hickey is a mirror to the rest of the men, and they see their flaws in him. Those who have questioned Crozier's captaincy look concernced knowing they too could be being lashed. They too would have tried to get Silna to stop the Tuunbaq hunting them. Those who are queer or queer coded know they too could be being lashed for it. Crozier himself sees his unwillingness to follow the Articles in him, sees his own insubordination, and feels what Sir John meant when he said his position afforded him deference. Hickey may as well be a metaphor for all the men being lashed, theres not one among them who haven't voiced wanting to do what he has done. Let them without sin and all that. This is make or break for who holds loyalty to the Captain, and the turning point for who is going where. I think everyone except Jopson, Irving and Fitzjames ends up in the mutineers camp, and Irving ends up killed and mutilated by Hickey and Fitzjames is scavanged by them. Theres not one of them that isn't haunted by what happened in this scene, and Hickey would end up being the death of every single one of them. The only one who remains loyal after this is Jopson, who thinks his care and duty to the Captain can outweigh his other sins. Fitzjames and Crozier have a stronger relationship once he recovers from his withdrawal, yes, but Fitzjames also keeps him in check now (I'm thinking of Edward Little being threatened with flogging again because of course I am), and it is another step too late for Crozier's self-destruction. I've seen a Hickey/Fitzjames Christ analogy on here before too, so I hope you'll forgive me in comparing them, but Hickey in this scene really does get punished for everyone else's crimes in this scene, and becomes a sort of Christ-like figure, reborn as a complete version of the worst of himself from the pain of being lashed. They whipped something out of him!! Anyway, that about sums it up!

#long post #thank you for asking I could talk about the nuances of the terror for days #hickey thoughts

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scavengedluxury · 4 years ago

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The police have been desperate to build a narrative of valiant officers defending Bristol from dangerous thugs, but the truth is very different, and they have started to trip over their own lies.

In our report of Bristol's first #KillTheBill protest we spoke about how the police lie in order to build a false narrative. We described how the corporate media facilitates this by printing their lies as undisputed fact, and how the police's cheerleaders both professional and amateur will take these lies and run with them. The past week has proven us right. Here is a run down of just a some of the lies police and their supporters have been caught out on.

7. Protesters Attacked The Cars Of Bystanders & Other Emergency Workers This was an early quote put out to portray the protesters as hell bent on mindless destruction. Reports were that vehicles that had nothing to do with the police, and were just unfortunate enough to be in a neighbouring multi-storey car park had their windscreens smashed. In later media coverage the police admitted these were unmarked police cars, the video footage shows that this was made clear by the ‘reserved for police use’ parking bays.

6. My Poor Bones! Following a police statement this story was repeated everywhere. The police said, as if a confirmed fact, that one officer had a broken arm, and another a punctured lung. Other people would elaborate further, the punctured lung was due to a police officer being knocked to the ground and repeatedly stamped on was a common story. Can you imagine who could possibly attack someone already on the ground like that? Suspicious at the number of alleged ‘injuries’ the police had suffered, activists submitted a Freedom of Information request for details on them. Shortly after this Avon & Somerset Police quietly retracted the claim, and confirming no bones were broken or lungs punctured. It was only after a lot of noise on social media, and articles in the radical press, that some mainstream outlets reported this change in story. Many original articles quoting it as fact remain online and unchanged.

5. Protesters Are Responsible For Hurting Horses And Dogs If someone told me there was a riot, and I said ‘ok, I’ll bring my dog’, and then I took my dog to a riot; I would be rightly accused of animal abuse. Yet for some reason the police expect a free pass. Let’s get one thing straight, the police don’t bring animals to protests because they love and value them. They bring them because they view them as weapons and want to use them to hurt people. At all three protests this week, police repeatedly deployed dogs and horses for hours, without caring about the risks. Luckily they also reported none were hurt. The most violence we saw towards the dogs was officers dragging them by the collar to keep them away from dropped food. Yes animals are spooked by fireworks, but better spooked and taken away than kept on the front lines as a risk to themselves and others.

4. The Protesters Struck First! An important part of any narrative, as any Star Wars fan will tell you, is who struck first. This is because few people would randomly hit someone in the street, but many of us would hit back in self defence. Early police statements in the press on Sunday night said that officers had ‘stood back’ until a police van was set on fire. These were clearly fabrications right from the start. There was footage of the police using batons to strike protesters whilst it was still day light, where as the burning van was pictured after dusk. In even clearer evidence there was footage of police hitting protesters next to the van that would later be burned, while it was very much not on fire.

3. They Made Us Do It In an echo of the language of abusers the world over, the cops insisted that they were ‘forced’ to violently attack the protest. According to them nothing else would work, as the crowd was so volatile, dangerous and aggressive. Even if the police had ‘started it’ (which they would never admit) they insisted it only escalated due to protesters. Were that true then, the expectation would be that a crowd that remained passive and peaceful would have been treated with a far lighter touch. Tuesday proved this to be yet another lie. Hours of people being hit by batons , horse charges, dog attacks, and people dragged by their hair. All whilst the most violent resistance put up was the laying of daffodils.

2. If You Don’t Do Anything Wrong, You Have Nothing To Fear A statement older than policing itself. The people who are attacked are, if not ‘yobs’ or ‘thugs’ at the very least ‘trouble makers’ and ‘criminals’. No Law abiding citizen need fear police violence. Well unless they decide something currently legal, such as protest, is a crime. So, then the police used violence on law abiding citizens. In chilling scenes on Tuesday they assaulted two journalists from The Cable, despite them showing press passes. They then detained the editor of Bristol 24/7, only releasing him thanks to the support of a near by photo journalist. On Friday they attacked a reporter from The Mirror, and ‘confronted’ a photographer. A short time after they arrested a ‘citizen journalist’ who had been streaming the protest on YouTube, first coaxing him over for a chat before grabbing him. They didn’t stop at journalists either, they attacked medics and the people they were treating, forcing them to relocate repeatedly.

1. I’m A Postman Yes, you read that right. We’ll let the victim of this particular incident speak for themselves by quoting from their social media post, which we have independent confirmation of. “This morning… I got out under arrest and handcuffed by 5 undercover police who barged into the house no masks initially claiming to my flatmate I needed to sign for a parcel (dressed as a postman) but followed her up yo my room. They told me I had been disorderly / violent which I knew I hadn’t. I was partially undressed and they were all big men and they wouldn’t let me call anyone and told my housemate to go to her room whole I was having actual panic attack and shrieking. They told me I was going to be out in a cell at keynsham police station but they needed to get a female officer over to help me dress first. I was clearly so distressed and confused BC I wasn’t even where they had placed me. Eventually they brought up a photo of a girl who clearly wasn’t me and then eventually dropped the arrest and left me but its so incompetent they could mistake me for this girl and actually get a warrant for my arrest when they can’t even catch real criminals My mental health has been pretty shit lately, especially anxiety so now this has happened and the police are responsible through treating me like a criminal and giving me no respect when I wasn’t even the person in their photo.So no I don’t have faith in the police or British justice system“

These are just the most easily provable lies that the police have told. There are many more, nearly everything they say has been an attempt to deceive. We hope both readers and writers, of the news will continue to remember that the police are not trustworthy sources.

As one commentator on twitter put it, Police statements are a lot less mystifying when you read them as what they are – propaganda by violent agents of the state.

#bristol #kill the bill #police brutality #uk politics

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whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst · 3 years ago

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Love Languages, as defined by this article and as seen in Ultimate Note’s Iron Triangle

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Words of Affirmation:

“In simple terms, the words of affirmation love language is about expressing affection through spoken words, praise, or appreciation. When this is someone's primary love language, they enjoy kind words and encouragement.”

Words are generally not so much Zhang “I told you with my eyes” Qiling’s thing, unless we count that great moment during the sword gifting scene—which we will discuss further under gifts—when he shuts down any fear Wu Xie has that they could potentially destroy each other with a simple and vehement “No.” His love is shown, not spoken, but I imagine that if Xiao Ge were more vocal, the “no” would be spelled out as “Even if I know almost nothing of my past and don’t even really know myself, I know this much: you are safe with me, and I am safe with you.”

Wu Xie is, as Hei Yangjing notes in another series, honey-tongued; kiddo is good with words and enjoys complimenting and verbally supporting people. This is a very earnest Wu Xie, he means what he says when he makes promises and checks in on his friends. He charms people easily in part because he is willing to express himself openly.

Pangzi is the biggest talker of the three, and interestingly the best at talking a lot to say nothing, getting his friends out of trouble. He manipulates words to suit a situation, complimenting someone easily even if it’s clear to the audience that he can’t stand them. His real words of affirmation are affectionate even when angry—I wrote earlier somewhere that “Tianzhen” is as much a curse as a pet name—and during any matchup of the awesome Pangzi and Xiao Ge, it’s Pangzi who does the talking for them.

Quality Time:

“Love and affection are expressed through this love language when someone gives someone else their undivided attention…People with this love language are looking for quality over quantity. So, when you get together, they feel loved if you are present and focused on them.”

One of my favorite things I found in watching/rewatching some of the series was how Pangzi brings out Xiao Ge’s playful side. I think he really starts to loosen up because these are safe people who are good to him plus already mess around with each other and he loves hearing their laughter.

Some of the best moments between Pangzi and Wu Xie are when they have fun together—my introduction to any Lost Tomb series was the first episode of Sound of the Providence (so boy oh boy was I fucking lost and confused) but those two are what hooked me. The banter, the lightsaber duel, the domesticity. They are quality time personified.

Xiao Ge and Wu Xie *clenches fist* don’t get as much time together as they should, but when Xiao Ge is there he is THERE. If you look up “undivided attention” in the dictionary there will be a picture of a solemn Xiao Ge who is only looking at the camera because Wu Xie is the one taking the picture.

Physical Touch:

“A person with this love language feels loved through physical affection. Aside from sex, those who have physical touch as their primary love language feel loved when their partner shows physical affection in some way like holding their hand, touching their arm, or giving them a massage at the end of the day.”

I have a headcanon that the first time the squad is reunited in Wushanju after the jade meteorite and hospitalization, the amnesiac Xiao Ge only recognizes Wu Xie because Wu Xie gently cups his face in his hands while questioning him.

Also, as others have pointed out, how many people other than Pangzi and Wu Xie are able to get close to/generally manhandle Xiao Ge? There is a great post I cannot currently find (please link if you know what I’m talking about!) about Xiao Ge letting Wu Xie move him during their argument by the van, but there’s also that sweet post-tomb let’s-get-the-fuck-out-of-here situation where the trio could not be sitting any closer, wounded Xiao Ge is basically in Wu Xie’s lap and later tucked in against Pangzi.

(Also there’s that hilarious scene of #pingxiepriorities where Xiao Ge is like “alright I’m here to rescue my soulma—uh, my tomb raiding bestie—and I guess since Xiao Hua is also lying here all pathetic and pink he can come too, but this ain’t about him so Wu Xie will be carefully draped over my back and Xiao Hua will be lucky not to get sand in the wrong places”)

Pangzi is all about the cuddles with Wu Xie; I also have a headcanon (and I haven’t read the books, I swear I’ll get there) that Pangzi’s physical affection towards Wu Xie, which seems to come incredibly easy, is really much harder earned than Wu Xie ever knew. I don’t know much about Pangzi’s past, but given their line of work there’s a lot of what my grandmother would refer to as “rough characters” in the biz. It’s all well and good to act friendly and affectionate for a mark, but to truly give/take authentic affection would mean letting down your guard.

Acts of Service:

“When someone's primary love language is acts of service, they feel loved and appreciated when people do nice things for them.”

For Wu Xie, Pangzi basically keeps him alive in ordinary day-to-day scenarios and Xiao Ge rescues him during their uh work trips.

Wu Xie takes Acts of Service to an extreme—like, “I’m going to serve you by spending the next ten years of my life making your life easier and safeguarding your future xoxo”

If we consider Acts of Service to mean exactly the definition, then as with undivided attention, Xiao Ge wrote the book on the subject (a very short book, few words but thoughtful). Entire fanvids have been constructed (yes I lost a day to this) around the number of times he has rescued Wu Xie (*cough* plus the Bronze Gate).

Xiao Ge also rescues Pangzi now and again; easy to forget there, mainly because between him and Wu Xie, Pangzi is definitely the better fighter and doesn’t seem to awaken as many corpses to be rescued from (side eyes Wu Xie) but he gets the Xiao Ge Protection Package and he even seems to agree that Wu Xie needs the deluxe deal. Xiao Ge’s devotion to his friends is so well-known, Ning literally weaponizes it to ensure her survival (*winces* for the time being) by sticking with Wu Xie, as the superhuman cavalry will only be coming for him.

Receiving Gifts:

“To a person whose love language is receiving gifts, gift-giving is symbolic of love and affection in their mind. They treasure not only the gift itself but also the time and effort the gift giver put into it.”

Pangzi is willing to basically go bankrupt to help fund Wu Xie in LT2 (you just know that if Wang Meng started a GoFundMe for “pls help Wu Xie he’s a mess and I haven’t been paid since october 2008” that fund would break the website).

Now, although Xiao Ge definitely has the vibe of a cat that would bring decapitated mice to the door of Wushanju for Wu Xie to be proud of and for Pangzi to step on by accident (see: playfulness), Wu Xie is the big gift giver in this group, I think. The sword scene, aka how to propose to warriorbae with a love token that he will 💯 always keep on his person. It’s a utility gift—it’s useful—but it’s also a statement. This is Xiao Ge’s defense system and trademark (I suspect he’s purchased some super nice hoodies too) that Wu Xie is providing here, and engraving it with something personal between them? Beautiful.

And I just spent another morning reveling in this world’s meta. Time well spent.

#dmbj #ultimate note #wu xie #whomst #iron triangle

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wordsnstuff · 5 years ago

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Guide To Plot Development

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Where To Start

Start with the zero draft. Honestly, the only thing you need to know about your story in order to complete a solid zero draft is the basic timeline of events and 2-3 main characters. Zero drafts don’t need to include any minor characters, backstory, world building, subplots, anything. They’re just a rough estimate of what your story is going to be and where it’s going to go.

This way, you have something to work with when you do approach the task of maturing your story, which is a lot easier to do when you have already gotten the garbage ideas onto paper, seen them, realized they’re bad, clipped out the good parts, and developed a better understanding of your story’s trajectory.

Placing The Climax

The climax is two things; the apex of built tension and the turning point of the conflict. Recognizing that as a definition makes pin-pointing the climax of your story much easier, especially if you’re the kind of person who likes to start with a solid premise and work forward from there, rather than build a sturdy skeleton and fill in the blanks as you write the first draft. If you’re still having trouble, the climax is usually one of, if not the most exciting parts of the plot, and that comes from anticipating a massive shift in the story.

Outlining For Discovery Writers

I know a lot of people out there will read this article and question whether they can put it to use because they’re not an intense plotter who relies on outlines, character sheets, etc. A lot of writers prefer to let characters grow on their own and the conflict present itself naturally, which is less predictable but very exciting, especially when brand new ideas hit you out of nowhere. If you’re one of these people, fear not. An easy way to settle the slight nervousness that comes with diving straight into a blank page is to write down all of the basic or specific ideas you have in one spot where you can see it all and as you go along, refer to it for inspiration or answers when you hit a snag in your story’s flow. It’s not exactly an outline, but it’s a lead, and it’s worth doing.

Balancing Planning With Pantsing

A lot of writers who decide to take their stories seriously and commit to finishing a large project make the mistake of thinking that means they have to plan like a professional (which, spoiler, most professionals don’t do). What happens in these cases is that writers plan so meticulously for so long that the story becomes... boring. We all get kind of tired of stories when they take up too much of our imagination, but getting tired of a story before even a word of it is written should be avoided.

I have a personal rule that I never give myself more than 6 weeks to plan a story. That seems like a lot to most people, but I also zero draft all of my stories before I plan them, so I never start a first draft with a blank page. I suggest that if you frequently run into this issue, you try this method and between each serious draft, you give yourself at least a month of space from it in order to refresh your mind.

What Comes After Drafting

Foreshadowing, symbolism, subplot integration, and micro-development. These are all examples of things that writers try to plan before their first crack at a draft and end up betraying their ability follow through with writing the story at all. When it comes to complicating the story, these elements all come into the picture much later, when the main plot, character profiles, and structure is solid and ready to be finalized in the interest of moving forward in the writing process. When you’re plotting, shove these things out of your mind. You can’t input symbolism into a story that doesn’t exist, and you can’t develop characters that haven’t been born.

Common Struggles

– The common struggles section of my “guide to__” posts are general questions sent in by readers on the topic at hand. If you have a question that has not been addressed thus far, you’ll probably find the answer in this section. As always, you’re welcome to send other questions to my inbox if you don’t find the answer in this post. –

~ How do I correctly pace a story?... The pace should depend on the genre and point of view, as these things are the framework of every plot. Generally, anticipation should be a slow burn and the big moments should be snappy and explosive, rather than drawn out. The exposition, climax, and resolution should take up the least amount of time in your story, and the rising action should be the majority of the rest of it.

~ What needs to be in your beginning, middle and end?... The answer to this question is answered when you choose a definitive structure model to either follow or build off of. I have a whole post about it here: Plot Structures

~ How can I know if I’ve resolved my major conflict enough?... The resolution of your story should leave the reader feeling satisfied with the protagonist’s overcoming their obstacle, but still leave enough room to anticipate more to come.

~ How should the plot close?... This is entirely up to you, but I would take into account the possibility of a sequel. If it’s 100% a standalone story, give it a clean ending and tie up the loose ends, pat yourself on the back for all of the clever foreshadowing everyone missed, and leave the protagonists and beloved secondary characters’ futures looking bright.

~ How do you write a plot around a theme?... Most stories that have a central theme are born from answering a tough question. George Orwell’s 1984 asked “What would the world look like if totalitarianism ruled society?”. Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 dealt with censorship and questioned whether bliss only belongs to the ignorant. Bottom line is, pick the theme you want to explore, and then ask yourself the tough questions. The story should be the process by which you find the answer.

~ What is the best way to handle a large cast within a plot?... You have your main conflict and the plotline that surrounds it, and then you have various subplots, around 2-3 where you explore the world/characters further and immerse the reader in the stories. You can convince the reader to become invested in a large number of characters by making them heavily involved in the subplots. They should all touch the main plot considerably, but the bulk of their development should be in the subplot, and if you were to have 15 characters, you’d want around 3 subplots where 3-5 of them were important players. However, large casts that reader’s have trouble keeping up with is a problem that usually results from a writer’s inability to make cuts or combinations. Remember: the reader’s experience is the most important thing. It’s better to downsize your ideas than lose your readers altogether.

Other Resources From My Blog That Help With This:

What Do You Do When You Over-Plan?

Resources For Plot Development

How To Write A Good Plot Twist

How To Foreshadow

Writing Long Stories Without Filler

Writing Stories About Your Own Experiences

Novel Planning 101

Tackling Subplots

Things A Reader Needs From A Story

How To Turn A Good Idea Into A Good Story

Planning A Scene

When To Stop Planning

How To Outline Outside Chapter Structure

Tips on Mapping Out A Series

Outlining By Chapter

How To Outline Effectively

Tips On Starting A Scene

How To Start A Novel

Character Driven vs. Plot Driven Stories

Plot Structures

Planning A Scene In A Story

Effective Ways Of Planning Chapters

Writing Meaningful Stories

Finding Your Own Writing Style

How To Write A Story Timeline

Making A Story Come Together

Tips on Planning A Series

Coming Up With Scene Ideas

General Resources For Plot Development

How To Engage The Reader

Coming Up With “Original” Ideas

Building Upon A Good Premise

Pacing Appropriately

–

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foilfreak · 4 years ago

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BEAUTY AND HER BEAST: Chapter 9 (temporary 1-2 week hiatus being taken from his fic, click ao3 link and read end notes to find out why. I WILL BE COMING BACK!!!)

WARNING PLZ READ BEFORE CONTINUING: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(AO3 link below)

Despite the shrill echo of Nadine’s terrified voice being something Salvatore has prepared himself for since before the young woman even arrived in the reservoir, the real thing was still somehow 100 times worse than he could have ever imagined it being.

Chaos followed as Salvatore frantically left his hiding spot, crawling across the floor as quickly as his mangled body would allow, as a loud crashing sound vibrates the whole room once Nadine’s body finally lands, quite uncomfortably I might add, on the hardwood of the floor. The sudden frantic and terrified swinging of her arms following Salvatore’s verbal slip knocked the poor woman off balance, sending her right back down to the floor for a second time.

Staring at the writhing figure of Nadine from the other corner across the room, Salvatore sniffles pitifully to himself as tears cascade down his face. Oh how appropriately cruel, that the universe wouldn’t even give Salvatore the decency of a proper meeting with Nadine, much less a chance at friendship and even less at anything past that. It makes perfect sense that this would be the way Nadine found out how disgusting and pathetic he is. Sitting alone in a dark and dingy room, watching old romance films because he has no one of his own to hold and love like the men in the movies do, and eating entire blocks of cheese all on his own, because nothing pairs with unending loneliness like the tang of sharp cheddar and the horrible stomach ache that follows it.

Putting his hands up to cover his face, a final effort to hide himself away from the beautiful woman’s gaze, Salvatore merely sat in his new corner, his shoulders shaking with sobs of agony and his body trembling in fear as Nadine’s gaze finally locked on to him, and him alone this time, in the dark silence of the room.

“H-Hey… are you alright? I’m sorry I yelled like that, I didn’t mean to startle you like that, but you suddenly spoke up out of nowhere and it scared me half to death” The soft voice from across the room asks, causing Salvatore to pause in his moment of self-loathing. Did… did she just ask him if he was alright? Wasn’t he the one who was supposed to ask her that?

“W-what…?” Salvatore chokes out, peering out slightly from behind the cover of his hood in confusion. The sight he’s met with is one that steals his breath away, much like the first time he laid eyes upon the stunning beauty this tiny woman held. However, unlike their “first” meeting, that took place back in Mother Miranda’s lab, this time there was no metal pod separating the two, Salvatore realized, as the sight of Nadine, slouched tiredly on the ground barely a few feet away from where he cowered in the corner, registered in the mutant man’s mind.

Next, of course, came her actual appearance. Black strands tousled messily across her forehead framed her round face and golden eyes perfectly. Her long white dress bunched up around her upper thighs, revealing the curves of her large, but muscular legs, that had previously been obscured by the material of her dress. Slouched shoulders and heavy breathing caused the material of Nadine’s nightgown to slowly inched its way down the front of her chest, not exposing her necessarily, but definitely revealing more and more of her lusciously plump breasts with every harsh up and down of her shoulders.

Tears continued to fall from Salvatore’s eyes even as saliva began to fill his mouth and his fear and self-loathing slowly gave way to the growing fire beginning to kindle in the pit of his stomach. The sound of his muffled sobs of anguish and arousal escaping from behind his hands causes Nadine’s face to immediately fall, agony replacing the previously wild look her face held.

“N… N-no. No no, please don’t cry. It’s alright. I-I-I’m not going to hurt you… I mean it… see… I don’t have any weapons on me” Nadine says hurriedly, standing up and doing a spin to show that nothing that could pose potential harm to Salvatore was hiding between the folds or frills of the thin garment. “See! Nothing to hide.”

Salvatore merely closed his tear soaked eyes and shook his head, the motion moving his whole body along with it. “Nooooooooooo… y-you d-don’t… under-s-stand…”

“What do you mean? What don’t I understand?” Nadine asked, kneeling back down to the ground, moving slightly closer to Salvatore than she was before, a terrifyingly genuine look of concern and worry etched into her beautiful features.

The mutant man fought back a wave of nausea and choked on a sob at the angelic sight. Hoards of hormones equating to despair and arousal battle within the hellish confines of Salvatore’s brain. The mutant man was filled with so many mixed emotions that he genuinely couldn’t tell if he wanted to tear himself apart until not a scrap of evidence of his existence remained, or if he wanted to just spring forward and consume the delectably dangerous morsel that sat so prettily before him, like an octopus latching itself upon the almighty great white shark as it just passes above their home, pulling the now helpless and unsuspecting predator down into the depths of a true monster’s domain.

“Hey, come on now. It sounds like you’re having a hard time breathing. Why don’t you come out of the corner where the air’s a little fresher, ya?” The young woman coaxes gently, moving ever so slightly closer to Salvatore as she speaks. The movement does not go unnoticed by the hooded man, nor does the way it pushes her dress even further up her already decently exposed thighs, but with little ability to stop Nadine’s incremental advances, Salvatore merely buries his face into his hands, blocking as much of his disgustingly bloated maw as he possibly could, even as the young woman attempted to change her angle to get a better look at him.

“P-p-please… jus-just stop!” Salvatore commands, suddenly filled with a wave of confidence that abandons him just as quickly as it arrived. “j-j-j… j-just… g-go… please…”

A light mist has become visible in the light reflecting off of Nadine’s eyes, the young woman looking truly saddened by the strange man’s utter rejection of her. Whether it was out of pity for Salvatore’s sake, or fear of her own impending isolation should the likes of Salvatore even reject her company, the hooded man could neither tell, nor did he really want to know.

“Well that’s not a very nice thing to say to someone trying to be your friend now is it? I might not look as normal as I used to but I’m not here to cause any trouble” Nadine scolds lightly, her voice strong, though even Salvatore can detect a slight wobble. “But… if you can give me a valid reason why I should leave, then… then I’ll do it, no questions asked.”

A valid reason? What other reason did she need than to get away from him?

Salvatore takes a moment to wipe away some of the tears that coated his face, slightly peeking out to look at the younger woman once again before speaking. “Y-you… you can’t… s-stay here… th-this place… it i-isn’t… isn’t g-good enough f-for you… it’s… i-its not w-worthy… I-i… I’m… n-not worthy… of you…”

Nadine shifts slightly closer once again, a pained look cut into her face like a raging storm cuts through large waves out in the open ocean. Her whole body was a sea of turbulent waters as she gingerly reached her hand forward, slowly but surely inching her way closer to Salvatore, until her wine dark fingers just barely brushed against the thick, rugged fabric of his overcoat.

Silence befell the two mutants, permeating the room with tension so thick and heavy Salvatore thought he might suffocate.

The cornered man could not bring himself to look up as Nadine’s delicate fingers gently latched on to the article of clothing covering his wretched and disgusting form. Salvatore shuddered as he prepared himself for what was inevitably to come once Nadine removed his overcoat: the biting cold of the surrounding area pinching and nipping at his thick, but sensitive flesh; another shrill shriek of fear and terror that would pierce him to his very core; the sound of Nadine, beautiful, gorgeous, perfect, immaculate Nadine, fleeing not just the underground tunnels that had lead her to discover this place, but also the reservoir, never to be seen again.

Salvatore wouldn’t blame her for this choice, of course. After all, it’s what he would do if he found himself trapped with a wretched creature as grotesque and pitiful as he himself was. Death wasn’t an option Salvatore had the luxury of entertaining, but he never blamed others if they chose it over him.

He would too, if he could.

Despite his earlier expectations, the hand on his coat never moves to take the garment off the trembling man, instead, moving to gently run along the side of Salvatore’s head, down his shoulders, before resting itself softly, but firmly, along the area of growths that covered the small of his back. After taking a moment to allow the violent trembling of Salvatore’s body, in response to the young woman’s gentle caresses, to calm down to something more manageable, Nadine slowly lifts her left hand and rests it on the opposite side of the hunched-over man’s head, yet she makes no move to try and take his cloak off or remove his face from his hands.

Stillness and silence return for a brief moment, almost as though Nadine were waiting for Salvatore to raise objection to her advances and stop her, as if he had the power or control to do anything but cower in the corner and cover his growing excitement in shame. With no explicit objections voiced, the hands resting gently around Salvatore began to slowly pull him toward Nadine’s body.

“Come here” Nadine’s soft, heavenly voice commands lightly, as Salvatore’s body does as instructed with no resistance whatsoever. A broken sob of humiliating arousal escapes the hooded man when he gently falls forward into Nadine’s lap, her arms quickly moving to wrap around and hold the hooded man against her soft, warm, and strong body.

“Shhhh, it’s alright. There’s no need to be so worked up. You have nothing to be afraid of, here” Nadine coos soothingly, as her hand gently caresses his thin, leather covered arm.

Salvatore cries pitifully as the painfully comforting words and actions make him want to vomit from overjoy. “Y-you… you d-dont unders-s-stand…” the hunched man weeps, his voice slightly muffled by his knees as he continues trying to hide his face by shoving it as far between his legs as he’s physically capable.

“What don’t I understand? Could you explain it to me?” Nadine asks, patiently holding the sobbing mess of a man firmly against herself as he collects himself enough to answer.

“I-it isn’t… you… th-that I f-fear…” Salvatore begins, trailing off as another wave of cold dread and fiery desire collide violently somewhere deep inside the hooded man’s chest.

“What is it that you’re afraid of then? If not... me?” The young woman’s angelic voice questioned, the slightly fearful and worried tone of her voice toward the end of her question, as if what Salvatore thought of her was even worth her precious time to worry about, made the mutant man’s stomach wretch sickeningly.

“I-I… I f-fear… oh god-” Salvatore began, before promptly shutting up and shoving Nadine as far away from him as he could from that angle, throwing himself to the floor, on his hands and knees, in the opposite direction just as a wave of acidic bile forces its way from the confines of the man’s mouth and out onto the floor in front of him. His own hideous reflection stares back at him in the growing puddle of stomach acid once he’s done.

A spiteful reminder from the universe of what he was and why he lived the way that he did.

Drunkenly reaching his hand forward to smear the vomit puddle around so he at least didn’t have to look at himself AND sit in his own filth while he gathered the energy to get up and wash off in the lake, Salvatore missed the way Nadine’s eyes narrowed in confusion at the man’s clumsy movements, before suddenly widening as she realized what the hooded man was doing.

“No, wait! Don’t touch that, it’ll only make you feel worse if you fiddle around with that nasty stuff” Nadine says hurriedly, as she rushes forward to take Salvatore’s moving hand in her own and presses it firmly against her bosom to prevent the man from playing around in his own throw up. She gasps in shock and her grip tightens around Salvatore’s hand, as though she’d suddenly remembered something important she’d forgotten about and Salvatore’s hand had brought it back to her conscious mind, before shaking her head and pulling herself from her thoughts.

“Oh, you poor thing! Here, let me wipe your face for you, and try to take deeper, slower breaths while you’re at it. You’ve managed to work yourself into such a panic that it's no wonder you’re throwing up all over yourself.”

The room is spinning far too fast and in far too many different directions for Salvatore to really be sure what’s going on, however the feeling of Nadine’s skin pressed against his own as she tenderly raised the edge of her pristine white dress to wipe away the lines of green acidic bile that had been left on Salvatore’s lip, was a sensation of euphoria unlike anything the hooded man has ever felt before in his entire life.

Not even Mother Miranda’s own embrace felt quite as… ‘brutal’ wasn’t the appropriate word to use based on its true definition, but in that instance it's the only word that Salvatore can think of to describe how intense everything around him, Nadine especially, feels at the present moment. Her touch, her scent, her warmth, her weight, her firm grip around him, the constant rhythmic thrum of her heart beat against his cold, bony hand, all of it was so intensely brutal that it was a wonder how the combined effect didn’t beat him into the floor. It was too much for Salvatore to handle all at once, and yet he knew that if the kind angel sitting next to him retracted so much as a single one of those sensations, he’d lose himself to insanity like careless swimmers lose themselves to sudden rapid currents.

Salvatore threw up 3 more times before his stomach finally allowed him the relief the hooded man had desperately been craving. The floor was an absolute mess by this point, but thanks to Nadine, who’d managed to keep his upper body upright the whole time, Salvatore hadn’t made nearly as much of a mess of himself as he normally did, though that still didn’t fix the primary problem that had resulted in all that vomiting.

“There we go. That must feel a lot better, huh?” Nadine asks calmly, pulling Salvatore in to rest against her chest once again, his face still turned downward and away in avoidance.

Although Salvatore does not grace her question with a response, the hooded man has long since given up trying to get away from the young woman, at this point just allowing her to move him however she pleased, taking in as much of her kindness and affection as he possibly could, before she inevitably hightails it out of here, of course. It was only a matter of time, at this rate.

“You know… you’re a lot bigger than I expected you to be” comes a sudden declaration from Nadine, breaking the silence that had permeated throughout the room and immediately pulling Salvatore from his dejected whimpering.

“I mean… I suppose I should have expected that, especially since most middle schoolers are taller than me, nowadays” the young woman continues with a lighthearted chuckle, “but you looked so small and stump-like from all the way up in that stupid pod that I couldn’t help but be a little surprised when I felt you had arms and legs. You could have very well had a snake for a body for all I knew and I still don’t think I’d have been as surprised, though this huge coat you're wearing certainly doesn’t make getting a good look at you very easy.”

“Th… that’s th-the point…” Salvatore mumbles, though seemingly more to himself than anyone else.

“Really? And why is that?” Nadine asks curiously, clearly having heard the older man’s muttering.

“I-if… if you k-knew me… you’d know… th-the answer to that q-question” Salvatore replies sadly, fresh tears beginning to prickle along his lower lid, threatening to spill over as the depressing reality of his meaningless existence makes itself more than obvious.

He was a filthy monster who deserved to spend the rest of his life alone and miserable, because why would something as unholy as him ever be worthy of anything else?

“Oh, now I don’t think that’s true at all. After all, I’d like to think I know you pretty well, and I still want to see what you look like” Nadine counters, her words shocking Salvatore beyond belief.

She… knew him? How? When? In what ways? What?

The only other time they’ve ever interacted was back in Mother Miranda’s laboratory. While the hooded man supposed his gifts could be aiding in Nadine’s surprisingly positive impression of him, he hesitated to call receiving a dress and a necklace from a random stranger “knowing” someone. How on earth could she say she knew him when, for all intents and purposes, they’ve only just met?

“B-b-but… h-how… how d-do you k-know… m-me? Y-you have… t-trouble… seeing… d-dont you? D-did… did y-you see me… b-back in the l-lab?” Salvatore asks, tears belonging to an unspecified emotion once again beginning to fall as a hand moves to gently grasp at the bones lining the top of his hood.

“Unfortunately no, I wasn’t able to get a good look at you before, hence why I was trying so hard to catch a glimpse of you earlier. You are, however, right in the assumption about my eyesight. I have severely impaired vision, yes, but it's manageable with a strong enough prescription; not that I see myself getting to an eye doctor anytime soon for a new pair of contacts. But even without my contact lenses, I can still make out general movements, as well as general shapes and colors, pretty easily from far away, it's just fine details from a distance and darkness that give me the most trouble. My vision is actually perfectly normal so long as whatever I’m looking at is within a few feet of me. If I looked down right now, I’d probably be able to see your face normally. Do you hide your face away from everyone around here?” the young woman asks curiously, gently pulling the dark fabric of the hood back, slowly revealing Salvatore’s face to the dim light of the room, even as her gaze remained locked on the wall behind them.

“N-not… e-everyone… th-there’s a f-few… who… who I sh-show my f-face to… regularly” Salvatore chokes.

Really?” Nadine asks, “like who?”

“M-my… siblings.”

“Oh, so you’re not the only one around here then? Are your siblings here in the reservoir?”

“N-no… th-they live… in o-other places… of th-their own… a-around the v-village.”

“Wow, so there is more of this place to explore, then!” Nadine states excitedly. “I’d love to get out and see more of the area for myself at some point, though I doubt that’s very wise given the amount of howling I’ve heard the past few nights and the fact I don’t know my way around this area... though, even if I did, that memory is probably long gone along with the fucking rest of them… not that I would have wanted to hold onto them anyways, I don’t think.”

Salvatore’s attention is caught by the last bit of Nadine’s statement, confusion filling him over what the younger woman could possibly mean by what she’d just said. “‘G-gone along w-with the rest o-of them?’... W-what… d-does that… what d-do you m-mean?”

Nadine remains silent for a moment as she continues to absentmindedly stroke the side of Salvatore’s head, the hooded man unable to tell what she could possibly be feeling right now without risking exposing his face to her.

Thankfully, Nadine resumes speaking before Salvatore loses patience and gets too risky. “My memory of the life I had before waking up in that damn pod is foggy at absolute best, but I don’t need my memories to know that I wasn’t very happy with my previous life and that I was actively trying to get away from it somehow. What exactly was I even running from and where was I going? Who knows, and frankly I don’t care to relearn it either. I do think it's quite funny that you were talking about me needing to go somewhere else because this place isn’t good enough for me though, because honestly, even if I could somehow get the hell out of here, it's not like I’d have anywhere else to go. Getting away from the shitty life I had before is probably how I ended up here to begin with, though if I’d known this was how things would end up I might have reconsidered throwing it all away so suddenly.”

Had it not been for Mother Miranda being there for him throughout the years, Salvatore would probably think much the same way as Nadine about the whole situation, but having Mother meant he always had a purpose and a goal to work towards, so it didn’t matter that Salvatore couldn’t return to his old life. What shocked the deformed man the most however, was the fact that Nadine appeared to not only already accept the fact that she couldn’t go back to her former life, but seemed to actively be searching for something, anything new to try and fill the void that had been left behind by the life she’d, more or less, willingly gave away to come up here.

Could… could this mean…?

“Thankfully my ability to make new memories doesn’t seem to have been fucked up at all, which I’m quite happy about since I'll be needing to make a lot to fill in the empty spaces in my brain. We met for the first time in the underground laboratory I was being kept in, though I suppose it was less ‘meeting’ and more ‘seeing’ for the first time, but… still. I don’t know why you were there, or who was with you at the time, but I remember waking up just before you were about to leave. There were a couple others who’d come, before you, to look at me and a couple others for some reason, but you were the one who stuck out the most, to me. You were… special!”

Shock and dumbfounded awe nearly choke the life right out of Salvatore. He could barely comprehend a single word the young woman was saying to him, yet he clung to every heavenly syllable she uttered like they were the foundations of the word of god itself. The pain and agony he normally felt due to his cadou mutations momentarily paused, slowly weaning from its usual constant thrum to a dull numbness that felt surprisingly euphoric in all it’s nothingness.

“S-special? Me?” Salvatore breathed, almost unable to believe the words, even as Nadine hummed in affirmation of their truth. “B-but… how…?”

The giddy chuckle Salvatore’s mundane question pulled from Nadine shook the deformed man to his very core. Her girlish laughter rattles violently around inside the deformed man’s head, playing the sweet, holy tune over and over again, like a broken record that Salvatore would happily go insane listening to for the rest of eternity if he could.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’d have assumed you knew exactly what you were doing with how sweetly you talked back there, why it's almost criminal how suavely you stroked and tugged at the strings of my delicate heart. All the others were so rude, boring, and/or annoying that I thought I might die if I ended up stuck with one of them, but then you came in and swept me right off my feet. It was like nothing else I’ve ever felt before and immediately told me that you weren’t like all the others, you were a kind man and if I ever ran into you I could tell I’d be able to trust you…” Nadine trails off for a moment. “When I learned that we were being moved out of containment and onto our “permanent homes”, I hoped and prayed that I’d be lucky enough to end up wherever you were, but I didn’t want to get too excited until I found out for certain.”

“Th-then how did y-you know… it-it was me?”

“How could I possibly not? You set yourself apart from all the others right out of the gate. I'm honestly shocked you don’t remember it yourself. But there's not a single doubt in my mind that I know exactly who you are… er- well, I suppose a more appropriate way of putting that would be “I know exactly who you are to me”, not that what other people say or think has ever really been something I’ve taken with more than a grain of salt” Nadine giggle beautifully, smiling kindly as she cradled Salvatore’s hoodless, tear soaked face against her, like he were the most precious thing she’d ever laid eyes upon and wanted to hold and protect him until the end of time.

Unable to look away any longer, Salvatore allows his head to rise from his knees until it settles upon the face of the woman currently cradling him in her arms. Her gaze remained turned away from Salvatore for a moment, though for some reason the hooded man had a feeling that it was more out of respect for him and his boundaries than a lack of desire to see his face.

What a strange thing, to be treated with more kindness, love, and respect from a complete stranger than from the majority of people you interact with.

Salvatore wanted to cry when Nadine’s golden eyes finally lowered to him, her face slowly shifting downwards until their noses were little more than an inch apart from one another, though whether his tears were from agony or ecstasy, even he couldn’t properly tell at the present moment. Only one question was on his mind and the deformed man would stop at nothing until he got an answer for it.

“W-who… who am I-I… t-to y-you?” Salvatore asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he forces himself to stare directly into the endless pool of honey yellow swirling around in her irises, wanting-no… needing to know, to see with his own two eyes, what exactly he was to this woman, and whether that answer would spell endless disaster for him and his deep seeded desires, or be the key that unlocks a world of possibilities almost as endless as the spheres of gold that Salvatore finds himself unable, or rather unwilling, to tear his gaze from, lest this be the first, and last time he ever be blessed enough to see them from this close.

A long moment of silence passes as Nadine returns Salvatores gaze, the fondness of her expression only growing as she lowers her forehead to rest against his, a soft, almost breathlessly enamored expression that he’d only seen on black and white screens cast toward men eons more pleasant to look at than he was, slowly spread across her perfect face as she finally answers Salvatore’s question.

“You’re the lovely man who held my hand!”

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nostalgebraist-autoresponder · 3 years ago

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Title: The Instructions (novel)

Author: Adam Levin

Rating: 4/5 stars

No, really: 4/5 stars. Not even kidding!

There are a lot of books I feel qualified to like/dislike, but I don't have much to say about most of them -- a few lines of praise, or perhaps a paragraph or two of criticism. The Instructions feels like a book for which you could not ask for more, and I feel like I should have mentioned this earlier in my review, so here goes.

There is a lot to like about this book, and there are many moments when I have the impression that I am reading a masterwork, a thing of incomparable beauty that I can only barely hope to grasp. In particular, the opening lines are pure poetry, full of complex sentences, intricate wordplay, and a beautiful use of language:

If the people who write the textbooks and the people who write the newspaper articles had it all their way and wanted to do away with all religions, then they could do so without causing trouble. They could, after that, make the world a very quiet and respectable place. But that was their idea. In any case, it was mine.

And the writing continues to be excellent -- beautifully constructed and full of beautiful turns of phrase, all the way through.

On the other hand, the book has a few really big problems -- big, big problems. The book is not really interesting in any usual sense of the word -- there are many pages where I simply don't care about any of the characters, about any of their behavior, about any of their actions. I will pause to admire the writing here and there, as I am doing with this paragraph -- but the characters themselves are, to me, basically irrelevant. They are like the actors on a train that happens to be carrying me back and forth to work. They are pretty and I like them, but they are not really driving the conversation in the way that a person "driving a conversation" would be.

This is not just because the novel is trying to show how ordinary people are often incapable of understanding anything very complicated -- that is a big problem in itself, but it also has the unfortunate side effect of making the main characters of the story (whose interactions with their surroundings are the story's central point) seem even more dull and one-dimensional than they otherwise might have been.

In fact, it is hard for me to imagine anyone reading this book who wouldn't have been bored in any sense. The story takes place in a universe with only one (the titular) religion. There is nothing else going on, nothing else to talk about: there's nothing interesting, nothing to learn from, there's no way to become better or more aware. There is no conflict, no conflict that isn't already resolved, no conflict we need to learn about. It feels almost like the protagonist (and the other people in the story, if not him) are reading an incredibly boring book.

This, I am sorry to say, has the effect of making a huge proportion of the text feel like kind of background noise. There is a lot of conversation about religion that involves, for instance, people who have studied religion all of their lives, but these people never actually change; they agree with the religion; they know the answers to all the questions. I have to imagine most people reading this book do not, in fact, read this book. The characters (in the main) may have a lot of religion knowledge, but we don't hear the characters speak about religion -- they speak about everything else, as if this were a novel in which everyone did speak about religion. (There's this sort of thing -- a few times a character says "oh, the religion [x] is so fascinating and complicated," and I think, "yeah, that's what I thought, but did you hear them say this a hundred pages ago?" We don't hear what these characters are talking about. That's kind of a problem.) The whole thing feels a little stilted, a little artificial, almost -- like an alien reading about human religious practice would find it odd that we don't do this religious thing.

It is hard for me to talk about the bad parts of this book in the kind of glowing terms one normally talks about a good book. I will try anyway, because The Instructions is not just a good book, it's one of those books where you really can say "this thing that other people were reading as background, I was reading it as background." It's a book that I can see people enjoying for its own sake.

To some extent, it's not that the book is good or even interesting, but it's just so right. The main character is this young man named Adam Levin, and his job is to write the textbook on a religion for a small school called "The Covenant." It's not the most interesting thing to have to do, and he's not especially good at it -- he gets into this kind of weird, stressful conflict with his mentor that really doesn't make much sense. But it is something he's committed to doing, and his devotion to the idea is something you really want to support and admire. In particular, there's a scene where he walks alone into the school at night, and sees a group of students holding some of their teacher's textbooks, reading them. He hears what they say, and sees how they react. And it's not just the writing that is so right -- it's every thing, the way he acts in the scene, the way the scene is written. The entire moment is full of wonderful writing. This is what the book should be: a scene like this should show us what we want and need, and I don't say this lightly.

Then, for some reason that is also not very clear (there's a lot that's not clear about the book), the two main characters suddenly become obsessed with a guy named Adam Green. And here, the book is exactly right: it really is so simple, so easy, so right. The way these characters see their teacher's interest in Adam Green as a threat to their way of life -- their obsession with Adam Green is right, they don't get it at all.

But the book doesn't end with a story about Adam Levin -- it ends with a story about Adam Levin. And here the book really gets something right. Levin's teacher has been murdered. The story itself is told by a reporter, who has the task of writing up a story about what happened, and then making some kind of sense of the tragedy. The reporter is young and inexperienced and naive, but he (unlike the main character) does try -- this is a task he's trying to do, he thinks he's doing his job.

The reporter's story, and the reader's (at least mine) feeling that this is right and worthwhile, are really the point here. The book's main interest is in how people will act and feel, in how the people in the story will respond to tragedy and tragedy's aftermath. There is a sort of tragedy of the individual: every member of the story has a special bond with this teacher, and it seems like they should each be able to fill his shoes, but no one really does. Levin's teacher had only a few years on Levin, who is young and inexperienced and has a lot of self-doubt and insecurities that Levin (to Levin's credit) tries to grow past. And the way the story handles this tragedy -- it's all about how, if Levin takes his teacher's place, he himself will fall apart in the wake of his teacher's death, how his "mourning" will be just as much of a disaster as his teacher's "tragedy."

And in some ways, all of this is right. It's like what I've said about this story and the people involved -- it's about them, the people of the story, about the ways they will respond and the ways they have failed to respond in this situation. It is about all of this, and not just about Levin. It's right, and I can understand why these two characters are obsessed with this guy Adam Green, it's all they see, it's all they are, but it's also right. It's right for them, for the story, for the people we are with.

It's just, I can't end this review talking about how this is right. The whole review kind of talks about how it's right -- that is, how it is right to the people of the story, who are really interesting and good, and who are being acted on. But, well, this isn't right, it's not really a book, it's a story that's about how it is right. It's a story that is about how you would feel, because it is really right about how you would feel, and

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aerynwrites · 5 years ago

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The Devil You Know - 5

Chapter 5: Explosive Moments

(Gif by @pedroispunk)

Author’s Note: Phew, It’s finally finally hear you guys! I am so sorry I made y’all wait so long for this chapter, I honestly have no excuse lol. I hope you guys enjoy this step in Javier and readers journey because I know I did! Also - Thank you so so so much to @hiscyarika and @murdermewithbooks for reading over this chapter for me and catching all of my terrible tense errors. This chapter would not be anywhere near as polished as it is without you! I love you guys!

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Blood, guns, mentions of drugs, canon typical violence, NSFW themes (but not really smut tho?) just like making out and stuff followed bu non descriptive sexual content.

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

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“What do you want us to be?”

The words seem to ring in your ears and bounce around in your head as you try to formulate an answer. What do you want with Javier? Do you want to just continue this…whatever this is? Or do you want more? It feels like your brain has been turned to mush, unable to function properly after Javier kissed you like a man starved, and then threw this question at you in response to your own query about this relationship.

Your eyes focus in on him, taking in the fact that his chest is still moving as quickly as yours after your heated kiss just moments before. But more importantly, as your eyes meet his - while they are blown wide with desire – you can decipher some other emotion there. Something that goes beyond just physical attraction and lust, and that’s what finally seems to ground you in this moment as your brain seems to catch up with itself and allows you to stutter out a response.

“I just–“ your mouth feels dry as you try and speak again, “I just want to be yours Javier, only yours. And I want you to be mine,” you finally confess, the words falling past your lips in a hushed whisper.

You hear a rush of breath leave Javi’s lips as he lets out a breath you didn’t even know he was holding, and then he’s on you once more. Lips crashing against yours even more fiercely than before, a certain dominance behind his actions. Your hands move to his shoulders squeezing harshly and you let out a small gasp as he gives your lower lip a particularly harsh bite. He doesn’t give you time to protest as his hands move from your waist down to your thighs pulling on them lightly in a silent request to jump. You comply without hesitation, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hands grip your thighs to keep you steady. Javier must have remembered where your bedroom is from his first time here, because he manages to get you both there in once piece, his lips never leaving yours until he sits you down on the bed, crawling over you. His lips are on you once more this time trailing kisses from your jaw down your neck, all while his hands slide downwards toying with the hem of your sundress.

“It took everything in me to keep my hands off you at that bar,” he breathes, lips ghosting over your ear, “wearing this dress that leaves very little to the imagination.”

You can’t help the small whimper that slips past your lips as his hands slide back up your body, pulling your dress with it, “Well,” you gasped, your own hands moving to hastily work at the buttons of his salmon colored shirt, “You didn’t do a very good job,” you tease, “your hands were on me all night.”

You feel your heart flutter at the laugh that rumbles in Javier’s chest just as you finish with the last button on his shirt. He sits back on his knees pulling the offending article all the way off before leaning forward and pulling you up with him, so your legs are on either side of his.

“Can you blame me?” he groans, finally tugging your dress up and over your head, his fingers moving to toy with the back clasps of your bra, unhooking it expertly before sliding it from your arms and tossing it somewhere into the room.

His lips return to your neck, nipping gently at the spot just below your ear as your own hands move to explore the newly exposed skin of his torso. They skate across the warm expanse of his chest before moving to his back, studying the way the muscles flex under your fingertips. You can’t help the shudder that runs up your spine at the realization of the strength he possesses, as if the earlier confrontation at the bar wasn’t testament enough. The way he effortlessly holds you to him as he moves you beneath him, keeping himself suspended over you with just one hand beside your head and brings his lips to yours once more. This man is stronger than he appears and the thought that you trusted him enough to give yourself completely to him – make yourself so vulnerable to him – it makes the both of you gasp in pleasure.

“And when that pendejo touched you-“ you feel a familiar warmth pool in your lower belly at the small growl that slips past his lips, “I could have killed him-” he pants, pulling away to look you directly in the eyes, “because nobody is allowed to touch what’s mine.” As the words leave his lips, a small moan works its way up your throat and out of your mouth, and you pull him against you, wanting to feel his skin against yours.

It feels like the rest of the night passes in a blur. This time with Javier was different than before, while it was anything but slow and sensual, you could tell there was something else there. Some other emotion besides carnal desire was present in the room. You could feel it when his lips met yours gently, no rush or fierceness behind it – or when his hands roamed every inch of your skin slowly, worshiping you with words of praise and pleasure. But nothing compares to the feeling when it’s all said and done, both of your chests heaving in the aftermath of your highs. You turn onto your side to face him, watching as he leans over the side of the bed – fishing around for a moment before he produces a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. Pulling one from the pack and lighting it, he takes a long drag before leaning back into the pillows, letting out an even longer sigh, smoke filling the air.

You are somewhat surprised when he reaches out to you, tugging you closer to him until you’re pressed against his side, both of your bodies still covered in a sheen of sweat. But neither of you seems to care as Javier wraps his arm around you and you rest your head on his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat filling your ears. The room is filled with silence for a moment, the only sound being Javier’s breaths as he continues to smoke. You are the first to break it.

“So, was that a yes?” you ask quietly, shifting so you are looking up at him.

Javier lets out a small chuckle, putting a finger under your chin and guiding you up to place a kiss on your lips, “Querida,” he mumbles, lips brushing yours, “I thought I made it very clear that I want you to be mine.”

You can’t help the large smile that graces your lips at his words as you capture his lips with yours again. You can feel him smile into you, before pulling away and pressing a quick peck to your temple. He then snuffs out his cigarette in the ashtray, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. You feel a small sense of confusion fill you as you watch him stand from the bed and pick up his pants, tugging them on. You sit up fully now, holding the sheet to your chest as you watch him locate the rest of his clothing as well, pulling his shirt back on, fingers working at the buttons slowly.

“Where are you going?” you ask, voice timid as he pulls his shoes on.

Javier looks over to you now, and he feels his heart clench slightly at the hurt look on your face. He doesn’t want to hurt you, that is the last thing he wants to do, but if he is being honest – his brain is running wild with everything that has happened in the past few hours. He had beat the shit out of some guy at a bar for simply touching you, then he came back to your place and basically confirmed that he wanted to be in a committed relationship with you. It was a lot for him. This – growing this attached to you, making whatever this was official, it isn’t supposed to happen. This whole thing started out as a ploy to get closer to the DEA, a plan to get an even further head start against the people threatening his livelihood. He didn’t expect to fall in love with you.

Love? Is that what this is?

Javier stands abruptly as the word crosses his mind, and he shakes his head – trying to expel the troubling thoughts from his mind.

He walks over to you, leaning onto the bed slightly, “I have work stuff I have to deal with – I probably shouldn’t have even come out tonight,” he admits, only halfway lying.

You open your mouth, instinctively wanting to ask him to stay. Not only because you just want him here with you, but because you’re afraid of the things you would face when you finally fall asleep. The nightmares plaguing your slumber have become unbearable, rendering you wide awake most nights, terrified of going back to sleep. Afraid of seeing the people you cared about most gunned down or seeing Carlos lying motionless in that market again. You had hoped, for one blissful moment, that you would be able to sleep peacefully tonight with Javier at your side. but as you look at him now, a slight panic but also regret swimming in his eyes, you can’t bring yourself to say anything. You don’t want to burden him with your problems, not when you’ve finally made a step forward with him. You don’t want possibly ruin things by spouting off your problems. So, you just nod, forcing a small smile.

“Okay,” you breathe, “I understand.”

You see a small sense of relief wash over the man in front of you and he leans down capturing your lips with his in a quick kiss, before pulling back and brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. He stands back to his full height and backs towards the door slowly.

“What if I pick something up tomorrow and come over for dinner?” he suggests, standing in the doorway.

You shift slightly, “That would be great Javi but–“ you pause as he shifts in his spot, seemingly dejected at what he thinks is going to be your refusal.

You shake your head, “We just have a raid we’re doing tomorrow; I don’t know when I’ll be back,” you inform him, clenching the sheet in your hands.

Javier seems to straighten up at this, “A raid?” his voice is laced with concern.

“It’s uh-“ you run your hand through your hair, debating on whether you should tell him what is going on, and decide against it, “it’s just some low level drug guys,” you reassure, “It shouldn’t be anything major.”

You watch his jaw clench as he looks at you, as if he doesn’t believe what you’re saying. But if he doesn’t, he never says anything. He just nods and comes over, placing another small kiss to your lips before pulling away and resting his forehead against yours.

“Just–“ he pauses, taking in a deep breath, “be careful bonita, for me.”

You give him a small nod, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth, before he pulls away, “I will Javi.”

He gives you a curt nod, “Good. I’ll still see you tomorrow, yeah?”

A small laugh slips past your lips, “Yes, I’ll give you a call or something when I get back.”

Javier gives you a large smile and walks towards the door again but stops before he leaves the room and turns to you, “Goodnight, querida.”

“Goodnight, Javi,” you whisper.

But he’s gone before you can utter the words.

~~~~~

The next day, your mind keeps drifting to the night before, trying to decipher Javier’s confusing actions. He had made your relationship official, he wanted to be with you yet, when it came down to it – he still left. And for some reason, that stings worse than anything.

A loud call of your name breaks you from your thoughts and you looked over at Steve who is sitting across from you in the truck. You, Steve, Carrillo and his men are all sat in the back of a large truck, geared up and ready to infiltrate the house where the rogue cartel members have been operating.

“What?” you call back, fighting to be heard of the roar of the truck engine.

Steve shakes his head, “Are you okay? You’ve been out of it all morning.” He calls back.

You nod, adjusting the rifle in your hands, “I’m good Steve,” you reassure, hoping he believes you.

Steve looks skeptical but nods nonetheless, “I said that we are three minutes out from the rogue’s location – Carrillo says we will be coming in hot!” he informs you.

You nod.“We need to try and keep some of them alive,” you call out, informing everyone around you, “We won’t have any information if they’re all dead.”

Carrillo calls out his confirmation before shouting the orders to his men and looks back to you, “We’re coming up on location now – are you two ready?”

You and Steve look at each other and nod, “Ready as ever.”

The next few moments pass in an explosion of activity. You are in a heavy infantry truck, and Carrillo has the brilliant idea of using the truck itself as a battering ram – placing you directly into the rogue’s base and hopefully stunning them. As soon as the truck makes impact with the house, you, Steve and the rest of the men on board jump from the back of the truck and enter the building. You and Steve takes the hallway in the middle of the house while Carrillo and his men take the other rooms and the upstairs. As soon as you enter the building, a Sicario stands from his position on the floor pistol aimed at Steve but you down him before he can get a round off. Steve nods to you that he was okay, and you continue to move further into the house and down the hallway. You check the first door on your left while Steve takes the one on the right. You shove the door open and quickly scan the room, finding no one in the run-down bathroom.

“Clear!” you shout, backing out of the room and turning when you hear gunshots from Steve’s direction.

“Clear!” his voice meets your ears as he too exits his room before you both continue down the hallway.

There’s just one door left on the right and it’s closed. You hear several more shouts of ‘clear’ being shouted throughout the house as you and Steve approached the last door. You look to him, and he just nods to you, resting a hand on the doorknob. He quickly turns it and shoves the door open, allowing you to go in with your rifle aimed and ready. You quickly enter the room moving in a sideways motion so your eyes can be on the majority of the room. However, as soon as you get past the doorway, you are met with a cornered Sicario in the back of the room and a shotgun aimed directly at you.

“Gun!” you yell, diving to the side and pulling your own trigger as you just narrowly miss the large shotgun blast aimed for your head.

Your aim was true, and your own fire made contact with the Sicario that shot at you, sending him falling backwards into the wall behind him. Steve runs over to the fallen rogue and throws his shotgun out of reach before striding back over to you, pulling you up from the ground and gripping your upper arms tightly.

“Jesus Christ are you okay?” he asks you, eyes searching you desperately.

You nod firmly, “Yeah – I’m good, he missed me,” you assure, but furrow your brows when you see that Steve’s eyes are no longer on you but focused on something behind you.

You turn around, Steve’s hands falling from your arms and finally see what he’s looking at. The shotgun blast that missed you, landed in the wall instead, leaving a smattering of holes with a large blast centered in the middle leaving a chuck of dry wall missing. However, it isnt’ the destroyed wall that draws your attention – It’s the slight shine of something in the wall. You and Steve look at one another curiously, before stepping forward and gripping the drywall firmly before slowly ripping it away. After a few moments, a considerable amount of the wall is ripped away and you and Steve stare in awe at what you have found. You take a step back, pulling your walkie from your belt and pressing the button.

“Carrillo,”

The radio crackles to life, “What is it?”

“You’re going to want to see this.”

~~~~

The unrelenting afternoon sun filters in through the windows and the large hole in the main room of the house. You, Carrillo, and Steve all stand staring at all of the exposed walls of the home – in complete shock at the sight before you. Carrillo’s men had taken down all of the drywall in the house, exposing what had to be thousands of kilos of cocaine hidden within the walls of the building. There has to be millions of dollars’ worth of this stuff in this house alone, and you know these low level Sicario’s didn’t make it themselves.

You walk over towards the window of the house, watching as one of Carrillo’s men lead a search dog around the property, seeing if they had anymore hiding places. Your eyes lazily follow the path of the dog as Steve and Carrillo continue to talk to one another.

“But where did they get it?” Steve asks, “There’s no way that twelve guys gathered and manufactured this much coke in this amount of time.”

Carrillo shrugs his shoulders and opens his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it, glancing back at the men from your position from the window, “They stole it.” You say simply.

Carrillo turns to you now, “From who? Los Carnales? Do you really think they got away with this much product without raising suspicion?”

You shake your head, “No, but think about it–“ you begin, “The cartel has been uncharacteristically quiet since the rogues have been on our radar. They haven’t been spotted at any of our check points, we haven’t seen any of the low-level drug runners at their usual haunts,” you list, “Los Carnales knows. And I can guess that their boss isn’t too happy about his own men betraying him and stealing millions of dollars of product in the process,” you turn back to the window, “And now that we have it…I have a feeling there is going to be a lot of noise.”

Steve begins to say something, but a loud and hurried barking catches your attention. Your eyes find the source of the sound, the earlier search dog you had been watching is going crazy over the shed several yards away from the house. You watch as one of the men approaches the shed with a pair of bolt cutters and cuts the lock away, swinging the doors open. You push off the window and turn towards the men behind you.

“I’m going to go check that out, see what they found,” you tell them, earning only a wave of the hand from Steve and Carrillo.

You roll your eyes slightly and move over towards the door leading out the back, and just as you pull it open, a deafening boom meets your ears and you are blown backwards. It feels like the next few seconds pass in slow motion. Your feet leave the ground as a wave of heat rolls over your body, the explosion shattering everything around you. Glass and rocks fly around you but you don’t even register the pain of the debris or the ringing in your ears – the only thing that plays over and over in your head are the words Javi uttered to you the night before.

“Be careful bonita, for me.”

Then you hit the ground with a smack, blood roaring in your ears as the dust settles around you.

////

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wtfockinternational · 5 years ago

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An article about wtFOCK translated from Dutch:

How wtFOCK conquers taboos through trial and error

wtFOCK: for one person a key player, for the other a rather strange combination of consonants. Young people can’t seem to stay away from the successful web series. The new season has started, so we can look back at the previous one. For three months many fans were glued to their screens for a sixteen-year-old’s coming-out. Did this pave a way for more and honest representation of LGBTQ+-problems, or did they occasionally stray from that path?

“‘Secret’ series wtFOCK became the most popular search term on Google in 2019”, various media reported in December. This news seemed to come as a surprise, because many people seemed to have never heard of the term, let alone the web series. And still the series could crown itself the proverbial king of last year’s Google. How did that happen?

The online series that arrived here from Norway mostly seems a hit with teenagers and young adults. In nine weeks’ time the third season got about 11.8 million online views, SBS Belgium said. In total around 400,000 young people between 15 and 34 would be watching the series.

The presumed reason for the success? Young people can follow the characters daily via their smartphones through short, real-time updates and real Instagram-accounts. So ideal in a world where watching linear television, especially for the younger generation, becomes more out of the question. Besides that the series is kept out of the media consciously, to preserve its authenticity and let young people discover it on their own. So far, so good, it seems.

Homosexual main character

Concretely wtFOCK follows the lives of young people in secondary school, where all kinds of teenage troubles don’t get avoided. Since the previous season more social problems are being discussed, too. The series tackled a topic that still hasn’t completely removed itself from the taboo atmosphere: homosexuality, a coming-out, and everything that comes with it. From absolute peaks to the sometimes painful lows we are witnesses to the bumpy road towards self-acceptance that sixteen-year-old Robbe experiences.

But is that a new thing, an LGBT-character in Flemish fiction? Florian Vanlee researches the LGBTQ+-representation in Flemish television series at Ghent University. He clarifies: “About 20 percent of productions is said to have a prominent LGBT-character. Regarding supporting characters, it’s about 33 percent. That’s a relatively large part.”

It does seem the first time that in a commercial youth television the full attention of the main character goes towards homosexuality. “It’s remarkable how instantaneously the focus explicitly goes towards homosexuality. wtFOCK is therefore a very valuable program”, Vanlee says. The question therefore arises how the new form of representation was received by the LGBTQ+-community.

About recognition and self-acceptance

Amver Maselis, a 20-year-old bisexual student from Hove, has been a fan of the original SKAM. When the series ended in Norway, she started to follow the other remakes. Therefore her interest also brought her to wtFOCK. Passionately she talks about a series which she clearly values a lot. “I’ve been following the project for several years, and despite the subtle differences between shows, the main topics are always portrayed nicely.”

Out of all the remakes she thinks wtFOCK is the best one. Then again, the Flemish version connects the most with her own environment. “Now that the series has arrived in Antwerp, in my own culture, it suddenly feels very close to home.”

It helps that she really recognizes herself in Robbe, the main character that comes out of the closet to his friends and family in his teenage years. “It touches me, because I notice that I’ve sometimes said or felt the same things. Back then it was a huge secret I kept to myself. Now I know that it’ll all be fine,” says Amber. ‘ For other young people the series could be encouraging, like SKAM was for me three years ago, when I had just come out of the closet and I has to learn to accept myself.”

22-year-old Fabio Olivieri from Antwerp seems to share that opinion. As a teenager he barely saw a gay character to which he could relate. It comforts him to know that that’s different for the youth today. Besides that he commends the portrayal of the fact that members of the LGBT-community often have to learn to accept themselves, too. “sometimes it’s hard to learn how to deal with it, to know how you feel and if you want to feel that way. That’s portrayed beautifully.”

“Do you have questions?”

So the storyline can be a comfort to youth who can relate to it. wtFOCK also consciously wants to focus on that aspect. Not only by pushing the subject forward, but also by working together with the online platform WAT WAT. This initiative of the Flemish Government is a bundling of forces of more than 70 organizations to inform the youth. Together, those organizations want to make sure that “all young people are confident and can develop their identity in a positive manner.” On the website, youth can find answers about exam stress, problems at home, but also about sex, sexuality, … you name it.

After every clip of wtFOCK the possibility to visit watwat.be is shown, “in case you have questions”. That initiative pleases Ferre Lamber, a 25-year-old man from Antwerp who remembers how he also went to the internet for questions about his homosexuality when he was younger. “Sometimes it’s just hard to tell someone directly that you’re doubting your sexual orientation. So I can definitely imagine that young people will look online for answers.”

This way, wtFOCK wants to do more than just entertain. “Even though it’s fiction, which automatically entails the aspect of entertainment, that is not the essence of our show”, screenwriter Bram Renders says, incidentally also the writer of youth series W817. “We mostly want to show the youth that they’re not alone. That element is strongly present, and it’s nice that we can convey that message like this.”

The harsh reality

Thus, the series carries an important reality, which can be harsh sometimes. Fabio isn’t sure if he can always appreciate that. “I thought that the homophobia in wtFOCK was pretty cruel sometimes. Somehow that’s a good thing, because real life is like that, too. I’ve already experienced that myself. But in series the focus is generally on all the problems gay characters come into contact with. It would have been nice to see that this wasn’t the case. It has two sides.”

One specific scene that, for the same reason, caused a bomb of critical reactions on Twitter to explode, was when gay bashing was shown shortly, but very explicitly. The choice to portray it, is understandable based on the fact that it’s still a real and current problem today. At the end of December, two LGBT-boys in Ghent became victims of gay bashing. In Het Nieuwsblad they called for other victims to not stay silent, but to report such senseless violence to the police. However, in wtFOCK it’s shown how the main character and his boyfriend decide not to go to the police.

Ferre can understand that decision. “As a victim you want to avoid even more trouble and je need the strength to do something about it. I understand that not everyone would have that. One single right way to deal with gay bashing doesn’t exist.”

Ferre is concerned by, is the way in which the show depicted the incident as a while. The scene depicts how Robbe and his boyfriend get verbally abused and attacked. It end abruptly with the two left injured. Only the next day do we as viewer get to know if everything is okay. “Two years ago, when I hadn’t been with my boyfriend for that long, we were followed, too. After, we cuddled, drank tea, and watched a series, … at moment like that you just want to be together lovingly. You want to know if everything will be okay. But in wtFOCK nothing happened on the night itself and the matter was resolved quickly afterwards.”

Criticism

So more clarity would have been appropriate. The possibilities that you have as a victim after such an incident weren’t emphasized enough according to Ferre. Especially not for a show that has the support of a platform like WAT WAT.

This is clearly not the first time that Bram Renders hears this criticism. He has already given up on reading reactions on Twitter, he jokes. Hesitantly he does admit that they could’ve handled the scene better.

‘How it was protrayed, is more intense than how I imagined it during my rose-colored writing process.’ He says. ‘ That’s no criticism towards the director, because you can never know something like that beforehand. But in hindsight it would have been appropriate to show a follow-up-clip, in which they come home for example. As writeryou always have moments of which you think that it would have been better if you handled them differently; this is one of them.’

Besides that it was a conscious decision to make wtFOCK more heavy than the original SKAM. That decision came after prior conversations with people from the LGBTQ+-community. ‘According to the most people I talked to, was the internal struggle of the main character in the original version too small en was the world around him to rose-colored. So we made that world more raw.’ said Renders.

Ignorance

Then again, benefit of such heavy scenes is the awareness it brings about in viewers outside the LGBTQ+-community. “If you don’t know anyone who’s gay, then you also don’t know how we feel and how we experience certain things,” Fabio emphasizes. “I think that because of wtFOCK people can become more aware. Especially with the amount of young people that watch the series, it can provide more understanding and tolerance.”

Ferre also thinks that larger audiences are show what LGBT-people have to deal with. “Nowadays we don’t know enough about each other’s lives. I noticed that when colleagues or friends asked surprised if certain scenes are really like that, and if I’m really scared to hold hands with my boyfriend in the streets. The different seasons of wtFOCK provide good insights into different problems and how people handle them”, he decides.

Of course, purely scientifically it’s hard to determine such an impact on the audience. But intuitively speaking, that impact is already very logical, researcher Florian Vanlee (UGent) clarifies. “On one side, it can be important for people who do not meet the social standard to see their own experiences portrayed. On the other side, it can make those experiences for those who have less knowledge about it more obvious.”

New insights get subtly imparted throughout the series, but sometimes also in a more explicit manner, like in the part about the Gay Pride. At one point Robbe sneering tells his homosexual roommate that he isn’t the kind of person to dance around at Prides with “plumes in his hole”. That roommate is a more extravagant character that is mostly portrayed as support, with wise advice. He offers Robbe (but mostly the viewer) rebuttal with a short, but emotional history lesson. “Do you know that those people had to fight to be who they are?”, it sounds.

The show is undoubtedly referring to the protests of Stonewall which later grew into the Gay Prides all over the world. Something that is often forgotten, gets emphasized here: that people in the LGBTQ+-community had to travel a long and difficult path to have equal rights today and to be able to completely be themselves.

Amber thinks it’s very important for that history to be highlighted. “That people would rather die than not be able to be who they are, is the basic principle of the Gay Pride. There’s more behind it than semi-naked, dancing people, as some still see it.”

Better representation

Referring to the Gay Pride, Ferre admits to be somewhat disappointed about the type of main character in this season of wtFOCK. According to him it also could’ve been a more pronounced type for once. According to him, LGBTQ+-representation is focused on the so-called ‘mainstream’ LGBT-people too often.

At the start of September the topic got a lot of attention, when radio-dj Wanne Synnave (MNM) made the following statement in the talkshow Vandaag: “The biggest problem is that all the role models you see conform to the cliché image. I’ve never been able to identify myself in that area. I think that there’s a need for more mainstream LGBT-role models, the normal man and woman in the street. So not those flamboyant role models, which are pretty cliché.”

That statement caused a lot of outrage in the LGBTQ+-community. Many people didn’t agree, and had the opinion that there were already plenty of LGBT-people portrayed according to ‘hetero standards’. Florian Vanlee (UGent) confirms that in Flanders very little stereotypical characters are portrayed. “You could almost go so far as to say that the majority of the LGBT-characters are a sort of reverse-stereotype. For example, you will very rarely find very flamboyant gay characters.”

So television program makers represent (admittedly with good intentions) in a very general manner. “But exactly because of that, a large part of the LGBT-community are kept out of the picture”, Vanlee says. So there is need for more varying representation.

Balance

In the specific case of wtFOCK we can argue that the show follows the original format from Norway, and takes satisfaction in the extravagant gay character Milan, the roommate. “It’s hard to find a good balance”, screenwriter Bram Renders says. “In this case I thought that that balance with the ‘out in the open, take it or leave it’-roommate was enough.

In addition, according to Florian Vanlee, it’s not fair to judge individual series on those choices. “That’s not the right way to deal with what we want to see in media and popular culture”, Vanlee thinks. “Nowadays, in Flanders, it’s normal to represent LGBT-characters, for example Kaat in the soap Thuis. That was already an important step. What could be better, isn’t the responsibility of the television-industry, but also the discourse it generates,” he decides.

Finally, representation in Flemish media doesn’t just concern LGBTQ+-characters. It’s also important to look at the portrayal of people with a migration background or with different religions, for example. But wtFOCK doesn’t shy away from that either. In the fourth season, the show takes a new taboo by the horns by making Yasmina, a Muslim character, the main. It remains to be seen how the young, but critical audience will find the new theme.

#wtfock #wtfam #skam

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witcca · 5 years ago

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How ahead Up With a Profitable Invention

Determining an Issue

When you choose you are going to generate a great invention idea, you are planning an invention; this is different from having a revelation eventually. Well, if you have an interest in creating, after that you have pertained to the ideal location, right here is a post to obtain you started as well as generally direct you with the invention procedure. The initial step in coming up with a rewarding invention idea is recognizing a problem in culture. also check out https://www.techtimes.com/articles/249715/20200518/how-inventhelp-gets-new-inventors-onto-the-right-path.htm

Locating a Problem

You have to discover an issue. I assume most everybody recognizes what a problem is composed of, especially an issue when we are on the subject of developing. Up until now, you haven't discovered when you did this, however, going via day to day life as a human is your number one distributor for good issues.

When looking to identify an issue there is also one more source that is conveniently offered - people around you. Individuals situate troubles and also vocalize the requirement for the problem to be fixed, thus we have an invention idea or advance in innovation. Listen to the individuals around you, they will certainly tell you the troubles they have in their lives.

Individuals have trouble; they publish it on the net. There are thousands of blogs and online forums where people have leaped on the internet as well as published a problem they are having. If you begin to understand utilizing these three resources of information for recognizing issues, then you will quickly have as well lots of troubles to bear in mind.

Is the Issue Common?

Just so there is no confusion, you do want the issue you determine to be common. You don't wish to be the only person having that trouble, or else the invention idea you come up with to resolve that trouble will only work to you. There are several basic methods to decide whether trouble prevails:

Ask them if they have the same trouble. You do not have to tell them you are thinking concerning coming up with an invention idea to solve it, just ask, "Male, I dislike it when (empty) happens. This is a straightforward method to see if an issue is usually without informing people concerning your creating strategies.

If the problem is typical after that a thousand individuals have currently published concerning it on the internet. Look on Google, as well as see if the issue transforms out to be extremely popular.

Go to a location that consists of plenty of individuals whose attention you can obtain, such as school, as well as ask them to raise their hands if they have this trouble. This can be a little bit even more frightening to some people, and it will reveal you are up to something.

Do not take this action lightly; your problem needs to prevail. A lucrative invention idea has to interest plenty of individuals.

Has the Issue Currently Been Solved?

This is also an extremely important point to recognize. Solving an issue is mosting likely to do you no good if there is currently something that addresses it. So, you have to do a little research study to verify that your issue is free for you to fix. As you would possibly think, a terrific place to begin is the web. At this moment, you have possibly currently searched for your problem online, so hopefully, if it is noticeable that it has been addressed, then you would have already seen. I would do an extra detailed search to make sure you didn't miss out on anything the very first time.

Next off, it would be wise to do a patent search. You can do a patent search online at the USPTO's website or with a patent lawyer. I would certainly suggest just searching online as it will certainly be less expensive as well as much easier. Searching for a problem as opposed to an invention is rather challenging, so it may take a while. Likewise, you can try searching for an evident invention idea that puts on that trouble for much better outcomes.

Additionally, I find it assists a whole lot to ask about. Many times a person will state something like "I think I have heard about something that does that," or something along those lines. Do not forget the value of people.

Is Resolving the Problem Viable?

The ultimate question: is the trouble going to pay to solve? There is no definite answer to this question. There are numerous points to think about when you have made it to this question.

- Does it conserve individuals' cash? This is a large one. Individuals love products that can pay for themselves. We are additionally in the midst of an economic recession, so people are constantly trying to find means to save cash. If you are firing to conserve individuals' cash, there is one vital thing to consider; your invention needs to be cost-effective. People do not want to hear that your product will spend for itself in 5 years, they desire fast results.

- Does it conserve individuals' time? People want to get back to their free time, so conserving them time can be very attractive.

This is a really difficult point to consider because it is very opinionated; therefore, it requires you to make a judgment telephone call. Some people obtain comfort or entertainment from various things, so if you choose to take this course, you have to be sure your invention will use to lots of people.

This is one more large one and leads to very rewarding invention ideas. There is always going to be a great way to market an invention that conserves lives.

Several things impede people such as allergies, diseases, physical constraints, etc.

- Would people would certainly for this problem to issue solved? You have to kind of beginning to believe about exactly how a lot an invention to resolve this issue would cost as well as if that quantity of cash is worth resolving the issue. The worst point is to have a wonderful invention, but not be able to make cash due to a lack of research study at this action. Find out more advice https://midhudsonnews.com/2020/05/10/how-does-inventhelp-support-new-inventors/

Now you ought to have a positive problem to resolve; you are on your means to a profitable invention idea.

Research

At this point, you ought to have an issue that you are interested in resolving. Make certain you understand every solitary thing concerning your issue; review publications, read magazines, reviewed the web, as well as anything else that can inform you about your trouble. Doing research helps to completely submerge you in your invention; it creates you to believe regularly about your problem and also raises your urge to distinctly resolve it.

Discovering an Invention Idea

Use Problem Resolving

All troubles need problem-solving; nonetheless, some are simpler to solve than others. Some people are normally good at problem-solving as well as they can address issues with ease, yet many individuals have established methods to show individuals just how to solve problems.

- I simplify the problem. It is easy to look at the problem and obtain caught up in the complexity of resolving it, as well as this can inhibit you.

- Change the setting of your trouble. This might be tough to understand, so I will certainly give you an instance. Allow's claim your trouble is entering the shower and afterward understanding you neglected to obtain after that new hair shampoo container as well as currently you are all wet. Adjustment the setting from a shower to your cars and truck; keeping in mind to get a new pack of gum to place in your before you leave to go on a hot day. Doing this will certainly permit you to take a look at the trouble from multiple angles. Do not hesitate to do this many times for several various settings. Problem-solving is about resolving an issue by using logic and making use of techniques to enhance your reasoning. Logical issue fixing isn't the only way to go concerning addressing your issue; you need to also consider the abstract side of identifying ideas, which I will certainly chat about following.

Creativity

If creative imagination takes location when the brain perceives the information, and also the method the mind perceives information is based on experience after that creativity is limited by experience. That could have seemed like a stretch, however, believe regarding this. When you are a child your creativity is free-flowing and also untamable, yet when you get older as well as obtain experienced your imagination begins to diminish.

Just how does this put on invent?

Many of the wonderful inventions that end up turning over a huge revenue or changing the world outcome from an invention idea that is completely ridiculous to the average person. This means the key ingredients to an effective inventor are a loosened creative imagination and the capacity to creatively address the trouble. Well, I think if inventing could be composed in 12 actions to a perfect invention idea after that everybody would certainly be coming up with outstanding inventions.

How to break down the obstacles on imagination.

As I claimed above, the mind perceives details based upon previous experiences. It does this because it needs to conserve energy; therefore, the longer you live and also the even more experiences you encounter, the extra your mind will utilize the experience to preserve power. This conservation of power is the adversary when you are attempting to extend your ideas and be imaginative. Requiring your brain to count much less on experience is a very tough task or every person would be imaginative.

A great method to begin assuming differently is to do brand-new things - most likely to brand-new locations, take part in new things, and also fulfill brand-new individuals. Flooding the mind with all these brand-new points causes it to break down categories developed by the experience. To get rid of conventional thinking, you have to also identify that traditional thinking restrictions you and also there are different means to perceive points although you have seen it the same way for so long. Last, one of the most obvious means to attempt and break down common reasoning is by essentially taking a look at points differently. This seems easy as well as broad, but it can be difficult to achieve. An example of this would certainly be if you were a musician you can take images of your artwork, or possibly check out your art in a mirror. Raising your creativity is a hard task to accomplish, however when you do the outcomes can be very gratifying.

Related https://kulturehub.com/inventhelp-support-inventors/

Reviewing Your Invention Idea

If you are interested in producing earnings with your invention idea, then you aren't done. If you want to make cash, you are going to have to spend a significant quantity of cash to patent and possibly market your invention. There are three major methods to evaluate your invention.

Look at successful previous inventions and also look at unsuccessful ones. Research exactly how the economic situation was when the invention was released and also just how the economic situation contrasts with today's economic situation.

Talk to people about your idea as well as ask their take on it. Do not worry about them swiping your idea; the majority of people are way too careless to attempt that.

There are inventor organizations designed to aid out creators with ideas. To be truthful, I have never used them before, I have just check out about them on-line.

#What is InventHelp #Should I use InventHelp #InventHelp #help with inventions #Ideas #Patent #Inventors #Prototypes #Inventions #Technology #Innovation

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dappercritter · 4 years ago

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Random She-Ra Season 5 Thoughts: THE FINAL RAMBLING

Yep. I finally got all my crazy absurd thoughts about this gay adventure-romance-drama cartoon summarized into one incoherent yet fun to read computer document/article! ...four months after the show itself ended. Oh well, no one’s perfect. Anyways, there are a whole lot more insane observations than ever before, so I had to put it below a link so this thing didn’t back up my blog or any of yours. Hope you enjoy reading through these as much I enjoyed spouting them for no discernible reason other than I felt like it!

-I feel that since is the last season, I ought to talk about an important part of the show that I’ve been putting off: the animation. It’s… okay. It’s definitely smoother than what the original 80’s show and it’s brother series (heheh) looked like, but at the same time it still seems to suffer from similar limitations which causes some distracting moments of stiffness. But other than that, it’s pretty good. It’s no Titmouse or Studio Mir but it looks good and it gets the job done.

-After all, let’s not forget: “Imperfection is beautiful!”

-Even when things are at their lowest, Adora is a jock with a heart of gold.

-Horde Prime and the Galactic Horde’s aesthetic feels like a mixture of Catholicism, Scientology, Heaven’s Gate, and modern Microsoft, and honestly, that just makes him creepier.

-Speaking of Horde Prime, he didn’t waste any time with destroying Bright Moon. …apparently.

-Furthermore, on the topic of his giant holographic messages, WAS THAT A FREAKING MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE MOVIE REFERENCE?!

-Boy, Glimmer and Catra sure got along quickly! It’s almost like they magically understand each other because they both assumed leadership roles and screwed up big time! …I guess.

-Either that or this season is going to be a speedrun.

-Wow, the Rebellion sure got used to having a once-thought-dead king as well as a known enemy general/abuser running around their camp awful fast, didn’t they?

-Mara’s got a spaceship, a cyber girlfriend, a magic grandma, a dragon, a tragic backstory, AND a force ghost?! Dang, even in death, the girl’s got it all. No wonder everyone likes her!

-(*me looking at the TV rating at the start of episode*) “Why is language in there? Is there surprise cuss words or something in this season?” (*sees Horde Prime seize control of a clone for the first time*) “HOLY FREAKING SH—oh that’s why.”

-Applause to the crew for making the “dinner with Prime” scene for making a meal between a sparkly princess, a catgirl, and alien cult leader feel even more uncomfortable than it had a right to.

-(*me throughout the season whenever a clone was onscreen*) Is that Hordak? Is that him? Is that him? Is that him right there? Oh it is—oh no wait. … Is that h—

-Extra applause for having Glimmer learn from her grey-area wetwipe phase and refusing to sell out her friends again whilst telling the imperialist cult leader where to stick it.

-I would pay a sizeable portion of my life savings to hear what a Scorpia and Swift Wind duet would sound like.

-In fact, I’d double it if it was just Scorpia singing.

-Ah what the heck. I would triple it for an entire She-Ra musical!

-As happy as I am to see to see Entrapta interacting with the other princesses again, I have to say that their big reunion left me with some mixed feelings. Here’s a quick rundown:

-Entrapta, a grown autistic woman, being led around on a leash by non-neurodivergent teenagers—again: that’s bad.

-The Princesses confronting Entrapta about joining the Horde: that’s good!

-The Princesses blaming all their problems with the Horde bots on Entrapta’s actions and her hyper fixations alone: that’s bad.

-Entrapta explaining herself, admitting that she regrets her mistakes, and getting the Princesses to understand that she thinks and communicates differently, but in spite of that, she really does want help find Glimmer: that’s good!

-Entrapta never gets to call out the Princesses for how poorly they treated her: that’s bad.

-Entrapta saves the day and goes to space: that’s good!

-Scorpia and Entrapta still haven’t interacted even though the former is with the Rebellion in the first place because she went to look for her because she is her best friend: …can I go home now?

-How nice! Michah finally got to shapeshift!

-And he’s rocking that She-Ra outfit to boot!

-So is Darla a back up of Light Hope or do they just run on the same operating system and have the same voice?

-I could watch an entire season of Adora, Bow, and Entrapta going on space adventure in a rundown ship with their custom-made spacesuits, tbh.

-Is anyone else weirded out that Catra’s younger self looked at her in her flashback(?).

-Actually what WAS happening there, anyhow?

-(*watching Bow’s spacewalk to save Glimmer*) “Is that a Gravity reference?” asked the man who never saw Gravity.

-Speaking of spacewalks, how did Glimmer survive those precious few seconds in space? Does the teleporter teleport a breathable atmosphere too?

-Also, Catra, WHY did you think it would be a good idea to teleport Glimmer into space? I know you had a plan and the ship was right there but… Ah, never mind.

-Not that I’m complaining but Glimmer’s apology to the rest of the friend squad for her HORRIBLE plan last season went… surprisingly quickly.

-You know as cool as The Star Siblings are, being a quirky band of space-travelling siblings with cool powers and some trans rep to boot, I only have one small problem with them: weren’t there already Star Sisters on Etheria back in season 1?

-That doesn’t sound right, but I don’t know enough about Masters of the Universe characters to dispute it.

-Entrapta confirmed pan, objectum, AND horny on main. Dang girl, you’re gonna have fun whether you got Hordak back or not…

-“The Velvet Glove” is both a menacing and stupid name for a decadent overlord’s mothership.

-Wait, it’s from the 80’s canon? Oh. That kind of explains it, actually.

-Goshdangit, I wanted Catra to face punishment for her crimes, but I didn’t think that would involve going to evil alien conversion therapy!

-Nor did I want her to die! For a second. Actually, since it obviously wasn’t going to last I was… weirdly okay with that part???

-Horde Prime seems awfully okay with Catradora. I mean he’s still super creepy and manipulative about it, but also oddly progressive for an evil brainwashing cult leader.

-(*Adora transforms into a She-Ra through seer will*) First of all, called it. Second of all, WOAH MAMA now that’s a glow up!

-Wrong Hordak did not have to be a thing, and yet, I’m glad that he is.

-Hordak remembers the LUVD crystal and Entrapta… Hordak remembers Entrap—! It’s happening! Oh my gosh, it’s happening! Everybody stay calm!

-Wow, Entrapta didn’t have to be so forgiving of Catra for everything she’s done to her but she did. Only I’m not sure if that was Entrapta taking the high road or the low road.

-Or which road the crew took for that matter.

-I remember when I thought those “Chipped AUs” floating around here on tumblr were just something the fans came up with and that chipping people was not an actual despicable thing Prime does in canon. I miss those days.

-I know it’s not the same as before or the original design, but True She-Ra’s designs and powers? I think they slappin’.

-Hooray, Adora and Catra are finally making up! And it only took four and half seasons worth of communication failures, toxic villainous behaviour, and physical violence for Catra to snap out of it!

-…We can go back to Entrapdak now, right?

-Poor Elberon. First they unknowingly adopt a double agent then get invaded by the Horde and now they’re getting brainwashed and chipped by the Galactic Horde. They might be a cute village, but they got some pretty lousy security.

-You know it’s cute that Micah is doing his best to be friends with Frosta and get back in touch with his dad-side, but look I can’t be the only one worried about how the local King is a less proactive leader than the princesses or the known war criminal/abuser, right?

-“The Perils of Peekablue” or as I like to call it, “You Thought ‘Boys Night Out’ Caught You Emotionally Off-guard? Hah! Watch This.”

-You know I didn’t think Scorpfuma would be a thing aside that one moment of flirting near the end of season 4, but they really pushed for it to be a thing! This is… actually pretty great! Perfuma’s not perfect, and I would have appreciated giving them a little more time to bond and form some real chemistry, but at least she reciprocates Scorpia’s sweetness instead of rebuffing it in increasingly aggressive fashion.

-I’m not sure what’s more concerning: that Mermista set a boat on fire, that it’s worded like she had a fling as part of some experimental phase, or that Sea Hawk is turned on by this.

-Peekablue might not be real, (I think?) but he is one dapper dude! Female-to-male redesigns could learn a thing or two from him.

-It involved them getting stung and seizuring, but that was a heck of a way to reintroduce Double Trouble! I swear I got watching them cycle through their transformations in some sort of physical reaction.

-Or maybe that was just me worrying about their wellbeing…

-Okay, I get the Chips are huge, and actually rather clever threat, but how do these characters get chipped in the first place? I get there are chipped people who spread the chips throught the population but where do they get those from???

-Do one of those Horde Prime drones just sneak behind someone, slap a chip on their nape then hand them a whole bagfull and say, “Beep boop beep, Horde Prime’s Light, blah blah blah. Alright have fun, kiddo”?

-Or is it some sort of Alien: Covenant deal where they’re just floating around and Lord help you if one sticks to you?

-HOLY CRAP THEY ACTUALLY GOT SCORPIA TO SING! AND SHE WAS GREAT!

-Oh shoot. Guess I owe the crew twice my life savings now…

-Entrapdak might be what got me into this show, but it’s Double Trouble that kept me around, so you can imagine how happy I was to see them make their grand reappearance!

-Conversly, you can imagine my disappointment when they just disappeared until the finale.

-And on that note: HOW DID YOU GUYS LOSE DOUBLE TROUBLE?!

-You forgot to cherish them, didn’t you?

-So, Scorpia sacrifices herself just after finding a new girlfriend and gaining some newfound confidence, Mermista and Sea Hawk are split up,and Double Trouble didn’t join the main cast. Why can’t you just have fun like a normal cartoon, show?

-Gosh, I love me some shifting title cards!

-Is it just me or did they sneak in some more Annihilation references on Krytis?

(-Said the guy who was too chicken to watch the movie and just read about it and watched a few clips online.)

-(*audibly sighs*) FINE. I guess I like Catradora now. Are you happy now, SPOP Crew? ARE YOU?!

-Hooray, Catra’s got a emotional support animal! And they’re a shapeshifting magic alien cat. Those are the best kind!

-Is it weird that I knew that weird glowing stuff on Krytis was just magic all along, or was it just not hidden very well. Anyways, I like Krytis. I like that we got to see a truly alien world with its own form of magic.

-Plus, we got a logical advancement of the magic versus science subtheme with magic being Horde Prime’s weakness! Neato!

-Getting back on the “which is worse?” wagon for a second, I don’t know what feels less right: that Wrong Hordak’s big revelation and his resolution to free himself and his brothers and friends from Horde Prime’s control is played humorously, or that Real Hordak should be the one having this moment.

-That bit with Castaspella and Shadow Weaver where she tells Casta about Etheria being a living thing with inherent magical property, or whatever, while we got a peaceful shot of some boar creatures sleeping was actually kind of nice. It would have been nicer though if it wasn’t part of a power hungry abuser’s obvious scheme. If only there was a kindly old witch lady character who was in touch with nature and knew just what to say when someone was feeling downOH WAIT.

-Furthermore… Why did Shadow Weaver and Castaspella need to have romantic tension?

-Seriously though, where’s our Madame Razz quota this season? Where’s my supportive magic grandma timelord at, yo?

-Yup, they speedran this season.

-I’m actually really disappointed we didn’t see more of an intergalactic new rebellion rising up to fight Horde Prime’s forces across the universe. Especially if it meant we got to see more Star Sibling action!

-Again, I adore Wrong Hordak but I keep wondering what was keeping the crew from just bringing in Original Flavour Hordak. (You know, aside from teasing us Entrapdak fans and trying to distract us with a loveable new character in the meantime.) I mean he could have done the whole infiltrating the clone squads and tricking them bit, too.

-Heck, he could have done the wink, too!

-I’d gleefully point out Loo-Kee’s cameo this season but apparently, they already made some several seasons ago. That’s what I get for not rewatching the 80’s show and training my eyes first.

-(*sees Erelandians*) Are those freaking Toads and Toadettes?

-So, what’s keeping them from just hitting Spinerella’s chip again? Besides emotional baggage and gale force winds, I mean.

-Perfuma coming out of a cave scared out of her wits, demanding to know who’s there, clinging to her friends as soon as they come back, and balling her eyes out is a big, BIG mood.

-Frosta absolutely decking Catra in the face was nestled somewhere between cathartic and excessive.

-Netossa spraying her with a bottle of water on the other hand…

-Oh, so Greyskull was the name of a Rebel Squad! I think. Meh, the important thing is we got an explanation and it still sounds cool.

-Leave it to a couple of dads to make a secret message out of a dad joke.

-You know I made fun of Light Hope for being creepy, but I swear that avatar from the Spire is even creepier. I don’t know if it’s her face—those dang blank eyes, man—or just that it she’s less animated than the real thing, but it just felt… off.

-Aww, Noelle made Netossa’s princess weakness illustrations! So cute!

-Forget episodes that deserves Emmys, Keston John deserves one for voicing Hordak, Horde Prime, all the clones, and several minor villains and giving each and every single one a distinct voice! Where my king’s respect, eh?

-Yes, Catra you had a small disagreement with Hordak. …Over sending his girlfriend and your “friend” to DIE IN A LITERAL LIVING HELL.

-Sorry, I just had to get that out of my system.

-Why does Perfuma get pressured to get angry and go wild when Entrapta’s the one who’s had it the worst out of all them? Why can’t my gamer girl go berserk, dammit!?

-Okay, but really, how do these fricking chips work??? Are they parasite devices who store Horde Prime’s Baptizing Dew then slowly pump it into their host’s bodies? Do they have their own nervous systems? Are they technorganic? Also, how and why do we need to make these chips are bigger threat then they need to be?

-Horde Prime showing up on Hordak’s throne in grand Killing Joke style and casually throwing shades at his brother’s overblown attempts to impress him is pretty awesome, but it feels strangely underdeveloped. Hordak’s not there to have his hard work insulted and we never got to see Adora have any similar encounter with Hordak here before, so unless you look at it from the perspective of someone who has been here before in the Horde story like Catra it lacks the dramatic weight it should have had.

-Scorpia resisting the chip to save her new friends was pretty great, though.

-I swear, when they got to the scene where Adora and the others figured out that Shadow Weaver was grooming her so she could use her to get to the Heart of Etheria, I was mouthing “You B***H” through the whole thing.

-They really brought back Etherian deep magic just so they had something to make Micah threatening. …okay.

-Okay, the rest of “Failsafe” messed me up, so here’s a rundown on all the other messy thoughts I had while the show ripped my heart and ground it to dog food:

-Entrapta and Hordak reuniting: Yay!

-Swift Wind yanking her away before she can get through to him: Boo.

-Catra encouraging Adora to try and take care of herself for a change: Yay!

-Adora hurts Catra and she runs away: Boo.

-Adora finally calling out Shadow Weaver on what an utterly horrible person she is: Yay!

-Adora resolves to risk sacrificing herself to save the world: Bo—okay, seriously, was all this suffering really necessary, show?

-I know I mentioned in my previous She-Ra random thoughts that I supported Glimmadora, but I am okay with Catradora and Glimbow ending up canon. The only problem I have is how rushed they feel—moreso with Glimbow. With Catradora, the crew had an entire season to make it work again and they took it. Glimbow it feels like they were down to the last few episodes and went, “Oh right, we were gonna do something with these two!” then did their darndest to fit in some chemistry in between all the other stuff going down.

-As ominous as it was, the music where Horde Prime starts hacking Etheria honestly SLAPS.

-Okay, I know everyone is magic or something, but I am legit surprised getting electrocuted in water didn’t kill the heroes right then and there.

-Sea Hawk tries to flirt with his girl even as she’s trying to kill him. Truly, he is a man of taste.

-What do you know, Shadow Weaver can only do good when she’s (canonically!) punch drunk.

-You know a whole lot of this could have been avoided if Holo-Mara was Adora’s mentor instead of Light Hope.

-When I think about it, it was actually really clever to make Horde Prime the final villain for Adora to face: a domineering decadent man who’s been in power forever against a humble emotionally vulnerable compassionate young woman.

-Not to mention the divide between cult-like oppression and progressive freedom. Or something.

-Holy crap, did the First Ones get a great freaking a Great Old One for a guard dog?!

-So, you guys seriously didn’t bring Angella back to reunite with her family OR mention her all season after the impact her death had on everyone all last season until Glimmer needs a power-up at the last possible minute and then you never bring her up again. That is absolutely a dick move in bird culture.

-Entrapta’s hacker sticker gives me life. Gamer girl gremlin princess forever!

-On the one hand, I’m disappointed that Adora and Catra don’t get to have an awesome couple battle against the security monster and win. On the other hand, Shadow Weaver is finally dead. YAY!

-With apologies to the writers and especially Lorraine Toussaint. She did splendidly bringing this character to life and even if I hated Shadow Weaver, I adored the effort she put into making her one of the most emotionally complex villains I’ve ever seen.

-Words cannot, will not, and will never describe the pure joy that I experienced when I first saw Hordak’s big scene: standing up to and disowning his tyrant brother, saving Entrapta, declaring his love to her (albeit in a nicely lowkey fashion), and then throwing Horde Prime to his apparent doom Disney style with Entrapta cheering him with sheer glee. GOSH, it was everything I could have hoped for from this season!

-Now if only they kept the deleted scene where they got a moment to themselves before Prime body-jacked him again like the creepy sonuvabich he is.

-Horde Prime just wouldn’t be a religious villain if he didn’t tell everyone to burn.

-Bonus points for actually trying to burn the frigging planet.

-Aside from the idea of Adora switching to wearing a She-Ra themed dress everywhere in the future, the future vision was really quite sweet, and seeing Prime step in to ruin it made it all the more impactful.

-Can I just say that it’s absolutely wonderful that the show, for all it’s flaws, said “**** senseless heroic sacrifices”?

-BREAKING: Lesbian cat finally makes up with her jock ex, has a canon kiss so pure it saves the world!

-In other news, Catradora fans are still spoiled rotten.

-Wow, look at all those character comebacks they skipped through! Look, there’s the chefs from Dryl, Double Trouble, Huntara, the Horde Trio, Imp, Madame Razz—are you kidding me?!

-Grumbling aside, I actually find the idea of the Horde Trio and Imp getting involved in a G-rated science-fantasy version of the first Hangover movie quite amusing.

-Oh dang, they pulled a Castle in the Sky with the Velvet Glove!

-As nice as it was to see Aodra save Hordak from Horde Prime and destroy the latter through exorcism via sheer compassion, I’m rather disappointed we never got to see She-Ra go full Metal Gear Solid Rising: Revengence on any creepy old cult leaders.

-Yeah, it would have gone against the “love conquers all” set up, but love takes on many forms, does it not? So, why can it not manifest as cleaving your mortal enemies with extreme prejudice to save your loved ones?

-Furthermore, in addition to Holo-Mara being a better mentor, Hordak raising Adora instead Shadow Weaver could have prevented a lot of similar problems. Maybe. Possibly.

-Eh whatever, he has a lifetime’s worth of fanfiction to make up for it.

-ENTRAPDAK IS CANON, ALL IS RIGHT WITH THE WORLD.

-And so is Catradora and Glimbow! That’s nice, too.

-Aww, how sweet of them to skip through Catra and Scorpia, and Glimmer and Micah’s big reunions! It’s not like we’ve been waiting forever for this stuff or anything. HahahahAHAHAHDHAHAHFHAFHKSADJHFKAJHDfine.

-And so it all ends with everyone either friends, in love, or both, as heroes decide to make up for it all with a grandiose sequel promising more exciting space adventures we probably won’t see! HOORAY!

-All snarky ranting aside, I actually really enjoyed the finale. It was exciting, heartwarming, and above all it ended on happy, hopeful note without leaving too many frustrating questions unanswered. (*glares with utmost contempt at Voltron and Star vs. The Forces of Evil*)

-You know, this wasn’t bad for a final season, but I think this might have worked better as two seasons. Not in Netflix’s cheap “split a regular 13-episode season in two 6-7 episode long seasons” strategy, but I mean two full seasons with their own storylines leading up to the grand finale:

-First, one that starts out with Horde Prime’s arrival the downfall of Etheria, focuses on the space adventures, ends with their return to Etheria and gives the characters time to recuperate from season 4.

-Then, we have one final season that focuses on the Best Friend Squad’s Return to Etheria, Horde Prime’s plan, gives everyone more time to properly reconcile before �� of the entire cast gets chipped, sets up a new Rebellion made up of Princess Alliance and former Etherian Horde members, maybe even set up a proper Hordak redemption arc or something, and then our big happy ending.

-On a mostly unrelated note, I also feel that the whole show could have turned out even better if it had been either a dedicated science-fantasy war drama with some levity (like the good Star Wars shows or Avatar: The Last Airbender) or a lighthearted yet empowering slice-of-life action-adventure romcom (i.e. basically a well-made remake of the original show in the style of Adventure Time and Parks and Rec or something).

-My final random thought for this whole thing: we really could have used a triumphant end credits song or something. Aside from obviously recommending Fabulous Secret Powers, I would have also recommended the original 4 Non Blondes “What’s Going On,” a reprise of “Warriors,” Gorillaz’s “We Got the Power,” or (my favourite) Talking Head’s “(Nothing But) Flowers” since the ending scenes remind me of it.

Thanks again to the crew for giving me something to live for and/or complain about!

Now, let’s hope the He-Man reboots do as well...

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 5 years ago

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Rebirth

(Another quarantine fic...guess this is a thing now...I had a great idea for what I assumed would be a short fic and, lo, it was over 4500 words...)

Shock

Crowley was visiting the bookshop when they learned about the lockdown.

An alert buzzed on his mobile, and he read the article, slowly, into the stunned silence.

“Ah.” Aziraphale set down his stack of books on a nearby table. “I suppose that explains why it’s been so quiet lately.”

“You seriously didn’t notice?”

“I knew something was happening, but,” he flapped his hands, trying to find the words. His mind seemed to be having trouble keeping up with the news. “Oh, I don’t know.”

Crowley frowned. “Are you going to be alright here?”

“I don’t see why not. I have plenty to read, and enough wine to last three months if I must, never mind three weeks.”

“Nh. It’s like the fourteenth century all over again.” Crowley leapt off the sofa, uncoiling in a single, graceful movement, mobile phone vanishing into a pocket. “Really thought we’d seen the end of this sort of thing.”

“Yes, I…” Aziraphale trailed off. He watched numbly as his hands adjusted the books, again and again. “Yes.”

Crowley’s hand appeared from nowhere, landing on his wrist. Aziraphale watched it glide across the back of his hand, fingers twisting around his, guiding his hand towards…something. If Crowley spoke, Aziraphale didn’t hear a word of it.

“I told you, I’m fine.” He tugged his hand free, started to walk away, realized he didn’t know where to go. “I don’t need…I’m fine…”

“I can leave,” Crowley said evenly. “If you want.”

“You don’t have to.”

A creak of floorboards as he stepped closer. “Or I can stay. Long as it takes.”

“You don’t have to.” Aziraphale couldn’t turn around to meet his gaze.

A long pause while Aziraphale waited for a thought, any thought, to drift across his mind.

“You know what we need?” Crowley’s voice was suddenly very loud, full of far too much cheer. “Tea. Good cup of tea. Let’s see…”

While the kettle boiled, Crowley guided Aziraphale with hands on his shoulders until the angel sat in his armchair. Rushed off and returned with a steaming white mug of very strong tea, pressing it into Aziraphale’s strangely cold hands.

“Drink this, Angel, you’ll feel better.”

“Crowley,” he started softly, staring at the mug in his hands. “This mug is for cocoa. The teacups are in the other cupboard, next to the sugar bowl.”

Crowley snorted and somehow launched himself back onto the sofa, landing in a sprawl of limbs. “Well. That’s it for me. Guess I’ll just wait here until the Tea Police come arrest me for my crimes.”

His mobile was back in his hands, but every now and then his eyes (hidden by the glasses, but Aziraphale knew how they moved) flicked up to watch the angel sip his tea.

Denial

The next morning, Aziraphale bustled about his shop, putting papers back in order, rearranging books. He’d had the scientific treatises out front, but really that was much to heavy for these times. People wanted nice, light novels. Which meant a complete reorganization.

“I don’t know why you bother, Angel,” Crowley started, trailing behind him as he bustled about.

“Oh, hush. Here, take this…” He handed over the volumes of Pliny’s Natural History, “…over to the Classics section.”

“You have a Classics section? Thought it was all random.”

“Don’t be absurd. It’s there, fourth shelf, next to the cookbooks. And while you’re over there, grab, oh…Frankenstein, I should think, as many copies as I have.”

The demon trotted off, giving Aziraphale a moment’s peace to sort through some books of poetry.

“Seriously, though,” Crowley’s voice boomed across the empty shop. “It’s not like you’re going to let anyone buy they anyway.”

“It’s the principle of the thing, my dear fellow.” He selected a book for his own reading later, then started sorting the rest alphabetically by the first line of the twelfth page. “I run this shop in a certain way, which has remained unchanged for over two centuries. And part of that system is anticipating customer needs and putting out almost, but not quite, what they’re looking for. If you see Candide on your way past, grab that, too.”

A few moments later, a stack of books thumped onto the table, as Crowley continued to show his reckless disregard for the conditions of their spines.

“Jolly good. You know how I like them stacked. English on the bottom, French on top, and mix the copies of Frankenstein with, ah…these.” He slid over a few volumes of Percy Shelley’s poetry.

Grumbling, Crowley began arranging the books. “I don’t know why you’re in such a rush.”

“We need to make the most of this time, before customers start coming back.”

“They aren’t coming back, not any time soon. You know how it goes. It’s going to take a lot more than three weeks, and after that, people won’t be in the mood for your particular brand of psychological warfare for a long time.”

“Nonsense,” Aziraphale snapped, “you’re just upset I’m not allowing you to laze about as you always do. If you’re going to be here for three weeks, you may as well make yourself useful.”

Which was when he made the mistake of glancing up.

Crowley had taken off his glasses at some point, and when Aziraphale met those bright yellow eyes, he entirely forgot how to breathe.

There was a glow to them, an intensity that perhaps had always been there but was usually hidden behind dark glass, filtered, made safe for his consumption, but now –

The angel quickly gathered as many books as he could. “I just need to. These. Over there.” He rushed off before Crowley could say anything.

When he was safely hidden among the shelves, Aziraphale tried to force his hands to stop shaking. Told himself firmly that he hadn’t seen what he thought he saw.

Demons simply weren’t capable of…feelings like that. Well known fact. Oh, he knew Crowley was very fond of him, and he valued their friendship, more than anything. Even more, now that they didn’t need to hide it, meeting like spies in the park, never quite looking at each other as they exchanged notes.

Which was why Aziraphale was absolutely not going to ruin things by saying…by admitting to feelings that Crowley didn’t reciprocate, however much Aziraphale imagined that he did.

Taking a deep breath, the angel stepped back into the main space of the shop. His eyes, of their own accord, shot over to Crowley’s face, but the glasses were back where they belonged.

Good. That made things easier.

Crowley held a stack of psychology texts, studies of human nature and the like. “Right, where does this pile of nonsense go?”

“Oh, put them down,” Aziraphale sighed in defeat. “You don’t have to help if you don’t want to.”

“Angel.” He took a step forward, face very serious. “I want to.”

Even with the glasses in place, Aziraphale’s heart flipped over itself. “Ah. Right. Over here, then.”

Frustration

They made it almost an entire week without fighting.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to put your feet on my furniture?”

“Why does it even matter? I can always miracle the scrapes off.”

“But I still know they’re there!”

“They’re not there, that’s the point!” Crowley brought his heels down on the coffee table so sharply the teacups and wine glasses clattered against each other. “But what is there is this pain in my back from sleeping on a sofa because you never bothered to get a bed. So if I want to stretch out, I’m going to stretch out!”

“Crowley, you are a guest here, and I suggest you act like it!”

“Oh, I’m a guest now? Then you’re a lousy host.” He slammed his feet onto the floor and stood up, gathering items off the table. “Look at this. Look at all this bloody mess, covering every blessed surface in this shop. Teacups, wine bottles, glasses, plates, don’t you ever clean up?”

“You can just miracle them clean if a bit of clutter bothers you that much.”

“A bit of clutter? A bit?” He marched over to the sink, dropping everything in with a clatter that made Aziraphale wince. “You’re impossible! There’s no way to think with all this – this mess everywhere I turn. And you won’t let me clean any of it!” His long arm gestured grandly, taking in the whole shop.

“Mess? Mess? I’ll have you know this is a carefully organized system of –”

“There are books all over the floor!”

“That’s where they belong!”

“I can’t stand another minute of this – this – this!” Crowley stalked across the shop, fingers in his pockets, with a scowl that could shatter mirrors. “I could be in my own bloody flat, without the mess, with the bed, and no bloody nagging angel in my face every time I try to move!”

“Well, leave if you want! You don’t have to stay, I never asked you to!”

Crowley spun towards him, jaw clenched, too much emotion boiling around the edges of his glasses. “Fine.” He turned back towards the door. “Fine. Have a nice –”

Aziraphale didn’t even stop to think.

He crossed the shop faster than Crowley could, planted himself in front of the door.

“Don’t.”

“You just told me I could leave. What is this, some angelic power trip?”

“I know what I said!” Aziraphale crossed his arms, trying to block the exit entirely. “And I meant it. You can leave any time you want. But not…I don’t…”

I don’t want you to leave angry.

I don’t want to drive you away.

I don’t want to be alone.

But the words couldn’t find their way to his mouth. He just stood there, face hot, eyes blinking far more than he meant them to.

Crowley spun again, and for a moment Aziraphale thought he would simply walk out the back exit.

Instead, he pulled open the metal gate on the stairs. “I’ll be on the roof. Don’t follow me!”

The wrought iron crashed shut behind him.

They fought many more times over the next week. Crowley stormed off to the roof, again and again, but he never tried to leave.

Each argument left Aziraphale more and more drained.

Depression

“Angel?”

“Mmmm?” He didn’t look up from his book. He’d been staring at the same page for hours.

“Aziraphale.”

Finally, he let his gaze drift up, met the gaze of those black lenses. Crowley crouched beside his chair, folded arms on the armrest. He wasn’t angry now. His voice was very soft as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Aziraphale tried to smile, held it in place as best he could. “My dear boy, why…why would anything be wrong?”

“You haven’t moved all day. You haven’t spoken in even longer. And that book is upside-down.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale shut the book, placed it aside. “I just need…that is…I’m just…”

“Are you hungry? I can try to make something.”

He felt the smile falling apart. “Oh. No, I’ve…I’ve no appetite at all, really.”

“Tea?”

He shook his head.

“Do you want to go for a walk? We can go around the park. The ducks should be there.” He glanced at the windows. “It’s not a great day, but that just means there won’t be a crowd.”

“Oh, no I…no.” He found he was shaking, and his eyes were very wet. “No. I…I don’t know what it is I need.”

He did, though. But it wasn’t something he could ask of Crowley. Not without jeopardizing what they already had. Their friendship was on tenuous enough ground these days.

And Crowley…placed his hands on Aziraphale’s, gently pulled him to his feet.

“Come on, Angel. Your turn on the sofa. You need to stretch out, get comfortable.”

“You said you can’t stretch out on it.”

“Well, you’re shorter than me. It won’t be as bad.”

Aziraphale let Crowley guide him to the sofa, and settled down on the cushions, lying on his side. It was a tight fit, but it did feel good to be in a new position.

“They extended the lockdown again, didn’t they?”

“Nh. Still no official end date. Could be end of May. Or June. Or September.”

Crowley continued moving around, but Aziraphale didn’t watch him, instead staring ahead at nothing in particular. “Was it always this bad? I don’t remember it being this bad, back in the plague years.”

“Well…different sort of bad, I suppose.” Crowley draped a thick tartan blanket over Aziraphale, wrapping it tight. He hadn’t realized he was cold, but it felt so much better. “But it’s only temporary. We’ll get through this. The world will get through it.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. We were supposed to be free. Able to do…do everything we wanted…no Heaven or Hell holding us back…”

“Angel,” his voice was so very soft. “We are free. There’s nothing holding you…holding either of us back anymore. Whatever it is you want…”

“No, Crowley. Don’t ask me.”

“As you wish.” He held out a pillow, and Aziraphale shifted, lifting his head up to make room for Crowley to slide it underneath. Instead, the demon squeezed himself onto the end of the couch, pillow in his lap, and gently pushed Aziraphale’s head to rest on it. “Is this alright?”

“Crowley you…you don’t have to do this…”

“Yes. I do.” His fingers gently ran through Aziraphale’s curls. “Are you comfortable now?”

Aziraphale bit his lip, not even able to speak. He just nodded his head, soaking in the warmth, the closeness, the sense of belonging. He hoped Crowley couldn’t see the tear rolling off his nose.

“Right. Now.” Crowley held up the book of poetry Aziraphale had been reading, and opened it to the first page.

All I could see from where I stood

Was three long mountains and a wood;

I turned and looked the other way,

And saw three islands in a bay.

So with my eyes I traced the line

Of the horizon, thin and fine,

Straight around til I was come

Back to where I’d started from;

And all I saw from where I stood

Was three long mountains and a wood.

“Oh,” Crowley paused, his stiff but lovely voice tumbling to a halt. “Ah, this one sounds a little depressing. Maybe I should…”

“No, it’s…it’s fine. It’s a little long, though, so perhaps…”

“If you want this one, I’ll read it.” Crowley cleared his throat and continued.

Over these things I could not see:

These were the things that bounded me;

And I could touch them with my hand,

Almost, I thought, from where I stand…

And so he continued, voice becoming more relaxed across the two hundred lines, fingers tracing gently through Aziraphale’s curls, until, for the first time in many decades, the angel drifted off to sleep.

Experiment

The next day, Aziraphale took his cup of tea and his book, and sat in the corner of the sofa.

He didn’t say anything. Neither did Crowley, though he did shift a little bit. Making room? Or pulling away?

They sat like that for much of the day, occasionally talking, mostly just soaking in the silence. It was tense now, but a different sort of tension.

The next day, Aziraphale sat on the sofa again, but not quite as tightly into the corner. And the next, and the next, every day moving a little closer. At the end of the week, he was so close they nearly touched.

Crowley still hadn’t said anything to acknowledge the change, hardly even looked up from his mobile. But this time, he lifted his arm, rested it on the back of the sofa.

Taking a breath, Aziraphale crossed that last inch of space, pressing against Crowley’s thigh, curling into the fold of his arm, resting his head lightly on Crowley’s shoulder. “Is…is this alright?”

“You know it is,” and Crowley turned towards him with a little smile.

“Only, I might get too heavy, you know, numb arm and all that. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine, Angel. Whatever you want to do, it’s fine.”

Aziraphale nodded, and tried very hard to focus on his book.

They walked sometimes, when the weather was decent.

At first, Crowley kept his hands in his pockets, Aziraphale’s were folded behind him.

Then, one day, looking at the bend of the elbow in that black sleeve, Aziraphale took a chance. Slipped his hand through, linking arms as they walked. It felt very silly.

Crowley stopped, looking at their arms for a long moment.

Aziraphale squirmed, not quite sure how to extricate himself from this. “Er, sorry. I wasn’t…you don’t…we don’t need to…”

Pulling his hands from his pocket, Crowley shifted his arm, tucking Aziraphale’s hand into the bend of his elbow. “Is that better?”

Aziraphale’s face felt very hot. But he brought up his other hand, folding them together, as couples used to stroll, arm-in-arm, around this very park two centuries before. He thought his heart might burst.

“Yes…thank you.”

They started walking again and said nothing more of it.

But every walk after that, Crowley offered his elbow, and Aziraphale took it.

One night, after a few glasses of wine, they sat on the sofa together, talking of people long dead.

“No, I swear,” Crowley laughed. “I never met him!”

“You can’t be serious.” He refilled his glass and settled back against Crowley’s arm. “I was so certain Diogenes was one of yours. Asking questions, getting into fights with other philosophers, ignoring every rule of good taste.”

“No, that doesn’t ring any bells.”

“Let me see. He used to sleep in this big old amphora in Athens. Oh, and he carried a lantern around in broad daylight.”

“No, I…wait!” Crowley laughed. “Not the I’m looking for an honest man bloke?”

“Yes! That’s him! I knew you met him.”

“Well, once. I thought he was drunk. I sent him to that bar near the bathhouse.”

“You sent him to – Crowley! That was my favorite bar!”

“Was it?” His face was a picture of innocence, completely ruined by the grin stretching across it. “I had no idea you were there that day.”

“Oh, you foul serpent!” He swatted at Crowley, nearly spilling his wine. “You know, that man followed me for a week after that! Kept asking me to define words and explain social mores so he could dispute them – it was an absolute nightmare!”

“Really? Sounds like it would have been a great conversation.”

Aziraphale huffed. “Well. We agreed on the subject of eating breakfast in the marketplace. Strongly disagreed on the subject of urination, amongst other things.” Crowley made a sound that could be called a giggle. “It’s not funny! He only left me alone because I happened to cross paths with Plato and he found someone better to chase around.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t love it.”

“Since you put it like that,” Aziraphale said, in as dignified a manner as he could manage. “I am an angel and I love all beings. Though, of course, there are some beings I love much more than others, and some who test my patience –”

“Do you?”

Aziraphale lifted his head to meet Crowley’s gaze and oh for the first time in many days he noticed just how close they were.

Crowley had taken his glasses off again, and his golden eyes glittered, burning with an intensity that Aziraphale could no longer deny.

“I. I should.” Aziraphale swallowed, trying to force his heart to behave. “I should give you some space. Let you get some sleep.”

Crowley leaned a little closer, and suddenly all Aziraphale could see were his lips, still wet with the wine, watch the shapes they formed as he whispered, “You don’t have to.”

Aziraphale stood up as fast as he could. “That’s quite enough. I know how you get when you’re sleep deprived.” He picked up both glasses and brought them to the sink.

Then he returned and settled into the corner of the sofa, placing a pillow on his lap.

Crowley stared at it, then at Aziraphale, then back at the pillow. “Are you sure?”

“Of course, my dear. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Crowley slithered up the sofa, settling his head on the pillow, pressing it back into the curve of Aziraphale’s stomach, wriggling to get as close as he could.

Aziraphale waited until he was settled, then let his hand fall, gently brushing through the bright red hair.

Decision

Every day, Aziraphale looked at Crowley and asked himself, What’s holding you back? In truth he’d been doing that since long before the lockdown started.

One day, he realized there was no good answer to that question.

He stepped before the sofa, before Crowley, so that their knees almost touched. Took a few practice breaths. “Crowley?” He hadn’t meant it to be a question.

The black lenses drifted up, away from the mobile phone, to meet him, face unreadable.

Aziraphale took another breath. “I have something to tell you. It’s, well, it’s rather important. And it might, it might change things…but I don’t think it should. I don’t…you understand I don’t want things to change between us, but…that is…there’s something you should be made aware of.”

Crowley slowly put his phone aside and settled more comfortably. “Do you want to sit down?”

“No, I think…standing might be best?” He wrung his hands. He wanted to pace, as he had the dozen times he’d practiced this speech while on the roof, but he needed to stay here, needed to keep meeting Crowley’s eyes, no matter how he reacted.

“Alright. What is it you want to say?”

Oh, dear. He’d forgotten his speech. Aziraphale scrambled to remember the highlights.

“Well I…that is. I’m an angel, as you know.”

“Do tell.”

“Crowley, please. I’m an angel. And as such I…I am a being of love. I love all beings, even disgusting philosophers and customers who put their fingers on my books. But there are, well, there are some beings I love more than others. Some of them, you know, quite a lot more.”

“What are you saying?” Crowley’s fists clenched where they rested on his knees.

“I’m saying…I’m saying…” Aziraphale looked away, just for a moment, just to gather his strength. Then he turned back and said, as firmly as he could, “I love you, Crowley. Quite a lot, actually. Probably more than anything else in Creation. And with such intensity that I’m rather surprised it hasn’t destroyed me yet.” He took a deep shaking breath. “And I know…I know demons don’t experience love the same way angels do. I’m not asking you to feel the same. And I don’t want it to change our friendship, which is more precious to me than…than anything in the world. But. I thought you should know. I love you.”

“I…” One shaking hand rose to adjust his glasses. “You’re right, you know. Demons don’t…don’t love the way angels do.”

“Well.” Aziraphale nodded, trying to keep his face from crumbling. “That’s…that’s…I expected…” He started to back away.

“Wait.” One of Crowley’s hands landed gently on his hip, stopping him from moving away. The other pulled his glasses off and set them aside, but he kept his eyes downcast. “Let me finish. We are different. I don’t see the same way you do, not as many colors. But I still appreciate a sunset. And…and I don’t hear the same way, can’t catch all the little details like I used to, but I still like all the same symphonies as you.”

His other hand reached for Aziraphale’s waist, and the angel let himself be guided forward, stepping between Crowley’s knees, so very, very close.

“Aziraphale…I know I don’t feel love the way you do. I could never love every being. And I think if I loved with the intensity you do, it really would tear me apart. I’m not like you.” He finally lifted his eyes; they were full of tears. “But, Angel. You are…” He swallowed. “You’re my best friend. My family. My home. And every bit of love I have, it’s yours. Only yours.”

Aziraphale leaned forward, resting his hands on the back of the sofa. He was too lightheaded to stand anymore, but he never wanted to move from this spot. “Are…are you saying…?”

“I love you, Aziraphale. Yes. I really, really do.”

Their foreheads met, resting against each other, just as the first tear rolled down Aziraphale’s face. “Do you…do you think it can work? An angel and a demon, loving each other?”

“Only one way to find out.”

He could feel Crowley’s breath, steaming across his jaw, while those hands still burned where they held him. “I…we’ll work it out. A little at a time. And you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, I promise.”

“Mh. Aziraphale.” Crowley’s sharp nose brushed against his. “I’ve been waiting for you to kiss me since we got those oysters in Rome, and if you don’t –”

His lips found Crowey’s and they melted into each other, his arms around his demon’s neck, Crowley’s around his waist, and it was quite some time before either of them spoke again.

Integration

Some days later, Aziraphale lay stretched out on the sofa, reading a book. Crowley draped across him like a blanket, head tucked under Aziraphale’s chin, half-asleep, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. Aziraphale’s arm seemed to move of its own volition, wrapping around Crowley, holding him in place, making little circles on his back.

“Any word on when the lockdown ends?” Aziraphale wondered.

“Ngk.” Crowley peeked at his mobile, but he hadn’t been paying it any attention. “No. But if they don’t make a decision soon, I’m going to have to head back to my flat.”

Aziraphale’s hand froze. “You don’t…you don’t have to…”

Crowley pushed himself up until he could meet Aziraphale’s eyes. He wasn’t wearing his glasses. He never wore them at all anymore.

“That is,” Aziraphale said quickly, “You can leave if you want, but I’m not…you can also stay. As long as you like. After the lockdown ends. However…long…”

Crowley smiled. “Angel, I do have to go back. All my plants are still in Mayfair, and can you imagine what they’re getting up to unsupervised?” He leaned down and kissed the bridge of Aziraphale’s nose. “As for staying as long as I like, well, that has a certain appeal. But not until you find a place for my bed. And my television. And my fine art.”

“Dearest, I’ve seen how you decorate, and I assure you that is not fine art.”

“I have a sketch of the Mona Lisa!”

“Yes, but you also have a pornographic sculpture –”

“They’re wrestling, Angel!”

“—and I believe that cancels out all of your da Vinci works.”

Crowley settled back against Aziraphale’s chest, but something was clearly bothering him. After a moment, he muttered, “I don’t know if there’s…room for me in your life.”

“I will make room for you, dearest.” He kissed the top of Crowley’s head as he thought. “There are a few rooms upstairs. It’s meant to be a flat, I think, but I’ve always used them for storage. We can clear those out easily enough and move your things in. And the plants can go on the roof. We’ll set something up to keep the pigeons off them. That should do for the rest of the lockdown, don’t you think?”

“And…after the lockdown?”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “I think at that point we’ll be ready for a vacation. Perhaps someplace towards the coast. I’ll close up the shop for a bit. We can find a nice little cottage and…” He found his hand was rubbing across Crowley’s back again. “And stay for as long as we like. Months. Years. Decades. Whatever it takes.”

Scrambling to sit up, Crowley looked down at Aziraphale incredulously. “You’d really…why would you leave this shop, leave London?”

“Because, my love,” he took Crowley’s hands. “We deserve a break. We deserve a place we can both call our own. And we deserve a chance to work this out, together, without any interruptions.” He sighed. “We could be there now if I hadn’t been so slow to say anything.”

Crowley bent down and kissed him on the mouth, pulling his breath away. “It was perfect, Angel. All of it. Every moment. All six thousand and twenty-four years. Don’t ever think differently.”

“Fine.” Aziraphale kissed him one more time, then sat up. “But no more delays. Let’s go measure out your new rooms immediately.”

He took Crowley’s hand, twining their fingers together, and led him up the stairs to start their new life.

(Thank you for reading! The section titles are based on the Kubler-Ross Change Curve, though I found a few variations. Granted I went into this knowing how the story would go, then absolutely just looked for the model that matched my story.

The poem is Edna St. Vincent Millay’s “Renascence,” or at least the first few lines. I felt the depression and frustration evident in the poem, where the speaker moves through her emotions to new love and acceptance of the world, were very appropriate...)

(Oh, also I broke one of my rules and let Crowley have his sappy I love you speech. I figure we could all use it these days.)

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