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nightcoremoon · 4 years ago

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so for the first time I saw batman: the killing joke.

...

it was okay I guess. but massively overrated. I expected some fucking masterpiece of cinema but instead it was just two unrelated short films that were more style and flash than substance.

so first off, barbara's storyline was mediocre. franz wasn't a compelling villain; just a creep, and a trust fund brat. oh wow he's a mafia kid who stole his family's fortune by hacking. if it was the falcone family I'd have cared more but it wasn't so it's just some faceless deathfodder rando. who gives a shit. the whole situation was just a vehicle to shove batman's dick into babs. which kinda fucks over bruce's character here and judging by the timeline kinda makes him a bit of a groomer, yikes. bruce and gordon have known each other since bruce was a young boy and we know that bruce is way older than babs so yeah bruce totally knew her from birth until present day, he literally utilized an active power dynamic to police her crimefighting activities, and he should have fucking known better and stopped her when she kissed him because it would (and did) compromise their professional dynamic, but hey, batdick. and at least barbara recognized that she was behaving emotionally rather than logically when it came to bruce and paris and took the high road out. that would be a serviceable standalone episode to write her on a bus in a serialization but THIS IS A MOVIE. so for a waste of an already short runtime it's like having an appetizer before your meal but instead of something like a crab cake before stuffed flounder, you get greasy onion petals that are more fried batter than onion before getting a well done cheeseburger that's just a glorified hockey puck on a sponge with a kraft single on top. the animation and vocal delivery were excellent of course, not gonna disparage that aspect, so it was well made, but the writing was just not very good. a polished turd. quantic dream must have developed it then because it feels like I watched a david cage production.

so in a 78 minute movie, five of which were the credits, we had a half hour Disney/Pixar short except those bring joy and this brought boring. also there were a lot of shots of her ass tits and underwear that were obnoxiously male-gazey and there was a token gay for the sole purpose of dangling a carrot on a stick for the queers. look kids, warner brothers and dc comics cares about the lgbts! give us money! a waste of time before the real reason why anyone came to see the movie that literally only exists to pad out the runtime to make it a feature length (even though paying a full ticket would've been a total ripoff because, again, IT WAS ONLY 78. even 9 was 81 minutes long and that had an amazing storyline so I forgave it, but 78 minutes? ugh.

also, GOTHAM RAGE??? CRINGE. SO CRINGE.

alright now for the joker segment.

*ahem*

what the fuck? that sucked! *throws tomato*

mark hamill and the joker's lines and the art and the cinematography and the choreography was all good and the plot was cohesive. I get it.

but holy shit was the writing weak as fuck.

okay so some rando breaks the J-ster out of Arkham (already unlikely but ugh whatever), he didn't turn a trick or recruit or anything, he just went to purchase a carnival. or, steal one. but wait, he DID recruit, but he went to get all of the stereotypical Circus Freak™ stereotypes. little people, fat lady, bearded lady, wolf man, strongman, diaper man (wait, what?), and the two headed woman. I guess if you don't really think about why all of them were super readily available in the outskirts between arkham and gotham [i just realized they both end with -am] then it makes enough sense. and then literally right after that HE RECRUITS SOME GUYS TO HELP HIM KIDNAP GORDON. and then strips and photographs barbara. um. ew. you can tell the writer and director were men. Alan Moore is constantly molesting women in his comics and this one trick pony should be put down already. but whatever. the plot is weak and it only gets saved by the flashback sequences.

oh.

oh no.

they're not that great.

he's a failed unfunny comedian who just wants some money to move his wife to a better house so he turns to thievery with the mob. OR YOU COULD JUST STOP GOING TO THE BAR AND BLOWING IT ALL ON BOOZE. I mean the cops knew where to find him after all so clearly he's a repeat customer (or moore is a bad plot writer who relies on convenience and shut the fuck up and don't critically analyze it). alright so he gets wrapped up in the mob to perform a heist on a playing card factory. GET IT, BECAUSE HE'S THE JOKER??? and he uses the moniker of the red hood to retain his anonymity. I expected the mobsters to be working for francisco but no the paris storyline was only cooked up screenplay for passing the runtime so why would they do something clever and interesting and make the film cohesive? that'd be really stupid to make the movie feel more like one movie and not two short films. at least when grindhouse & planet terror did it they advertised themselves as an anthology film. whatever. he falls in the vat of acid which melts the red hood to his face and I gotta say that's actually a pretty good idea to get his face white and his hair green and his lips red. I like that part. oh wait I forgot about the most important part! his wife gets shoved in the refrigerator. OH WOW THAT'S JUST SO COMPELLING AND ORIGINAL, TOTALLY NOT SOMETHING THAT ALREADY HAPPENED TO GREEN LANTERN. TWICE. although she wasn't literally shoved into a literal refrigerator like alex was. rip in frozen pieces you absolute legend of a trope namer. alright, so... so the joker is sad because his wife died. you know, the wife we saw for two minutes and knew the moment we saw her drenched in sepia she was gonna die. and she died offscreen. kyle's gf died and he was fine. gordon's wife died and he was fine. batman's parents both died and he was fine. oh boo hoo someone I love died! fuck off. I am so goddamn sick of people trying to justify their evil with "I was sad once". it's a stupid trope and it's not compelling. the only valid version is doctor doofenshmirtz' evil(er) version in the PF movie because it's hilarious that it's because of a toy train because that's the emotional depth that fridgewomen is treated with in all of these storylines. but at least batman said so. oh yeah, I almost totally forgot, batman's in this movie.

batman punches people and nonlethally takes them out. by suffocating them and letting them get stabbed and throwing them into pits of spikes and HEY WAIT A GODDAMN SECOND! okay let's just ignore that bit and hope that the little people squeezed between the gaps in the spikes and the strongman could breathe in the face mask and the two headed women had KO gas and the fat lady was fat enough that the knives only stabbed her cellulite. it wouldn't be the biggest reach one would have to make in watching this fucking disaster of a plot mess.

now I did like that it was actually batman, and by that I mean he gave a shit about the insane because he recognizes that mental illness is not a cause of dangerous or criminal behavior, just a potential exacerbating factor if it wasn't treated. yeah he brutalized mobsters and crime lords but they were mostly in self defense while gathering intel. he politely asked sal maroni and the sex workers for information and they gave it to him without violence- he manhandled maroni but only after he reached into his pocket for a cigar which could've been a gun. also batman says sex work should be decriminalized if only by not ratting them out to the cops. he was a genuinely good person in the second half of the movie. too bad it was ruined by the shitty first half that made him a borderline groomer.

joker's song was... bad. mark hamill performed his ass off but the song wasn't that good. it just tried to be willy wonka if he was a voyeuristic monster. oh yeah have the only girl character be paralyzed stripped and photographed only to give her father ManPain™. again... the fuck? joker and batman were both gross but, again. male writers. if it was a one-off I could drop a thermian argument because, alright one and done makes sense, especially 1988 standards. but it saturated and soured the entire goddamn movie because of abhorrent pacing decisions. so you're goddamn right I'm gonna bring it up twice! joker was a creep, his plan was dumb, nolan and burton and lord/miller and even ayer had better motivations. YES I AM SAYING THAT JARED LETO'S JOKER HAD BETTER WRITING THAN MARK HAMILL'S JOKER. not nearly to the level of ledger nicholson or galifanakis but hamill didn't have a lot to work with here and I maintain that his performance was amazing; honestly I like his the best out of all of them but just... not here. but I think I can cut some slack to firelord ozai and luke skywalker even if he just phoned it in here which he didn't. writing was just weak. and that's all there is to it. don't anon me and threaten to remove my bones ok?

alright so batman and joker fought and joker got the upper hand and was gonna kill him but it was a prop gun. haha. they had a heart to heart and batman tells joker that he wants to help him get better, even after joker killed robin and molested barbara and traumatized gordon and did countless other travesties, he still said he would help. but joker said no, and told a joke that was good enough to make batman laugh. and then the credits rolled.

...

what a completely pointless and empty ending. oh it's deep and meaningful and poignant? ok sure, I guess, movie, but you didn't earn that. shyamalan did the same thing a dozen times. that doesn't make him any less of a shit writer.

I can understand the concept of batman laughing at joker's joke, humanizing him.

I get it. I see what they tried to do. I respect it.

but this movie was massively overhyped and overrated and I expected it to be so much better than it was. but overall to me it was just another batman cartoon to throw on top of the pile. maybe it was influential to graphic novels. maybe it shaped batman into what he is today. it published right as tim burton's movie and I can respect its place in the pantheon of comic history. but sometimes things that are classic...

aren't that great.

citizen kane, casablanca, the maltese falcon, the treasure of the sierra madre, gone with the wind, singing in the rain, all of them are classic and legendary pieces of art. but they're just not that good, interesting, appealing, watchable, or FUN. they were good at the time- I mean come on we all know them today- but on going back you'd have to really appreciate the finer details to still love the movies today. and this belongs there, in the vault, to be appreciated from afar. influential if dated.

but god am I still disappointed nonetheless.

TL;DR

it was just okay. had some good ideas, had some really bad ideas, had some ugly stuff. overall mediocre. first half 5/10, second half 7/10, overall 6/10.

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prorevenge · 6 years ago

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Buddy, You Picked the Wrong Person to Harass

The year was 2014 (or maybe 2013? who gives a shit?), and I was a freshman in high school. On a general basis it sucked. I mean, it was an American public high school with literally thousands of kids, it's a given that it's gonna blow some major balls. One thing in particular that made it extra sucky though was gym class. Specifically, this one guy in gym class.

This dude's name was Jack A. McGee, the 'A' of course being short for 'Ass'. As the name would imply, he was a jackass.

At first, it was pretty standard "high school guy in gym class"-level of obnoxious prick. You know the type: overly loud, unreasonably aggressive during games, bossy, tossing the collective brain cell back and forth between his two equally ape-like buddies. The usual.

I don't know when, exactly, it happened, but he developed a sort of... eye for me, after the first couple of weeks or so. He started asking me bizarre questions that I now believe may have been some sort of innuendo, sitting uncomfortably close to me, resting his hand on my gym shoe- general creepy behavior.

He once blocked a doorway with his body (this dude was massive), forcing me to literally squeeze my way through and crawl over him. He then tried to grab me and pin me to him once I was almost through, but I'm very good at dodging physical contact whenever possible, and dipped on him before his giant gorilla arm could catch me. I still shudder thinking about it. I cannot emphasize enough how terrible this dude smelled.

But the true breaking point came during the peak cruelty of this school mandated sadism: gym swim.

Before anyone asks, let it be known that yes, I did try to tell someone about this. I told my gym teacher first semester, really early on, that Jack was making me incredibly uncomfortable. The gym teacher waved it off, saying he was "just playing around" and that "it's probably because he likes you". His suggestion was basically to just put up with it and wait it out, because he was sure Jack would lose interest soon anyways.

Spoiler alert: he didn't

Second semester rolls around, and the four week period of gym swim descends upon us like the bloated carcass of a catapulted whale, crushing us beneath its wet, foul smelling body. 40 some odd adolescents forced into a cold, overly chlorinated pool for 50+ minutes, adorned in swimsuits determined to crawl up into our assholes like Antman himself.

It was hell on earth, basically.

As I've mentioned in a previous post, I am autistic, so the echoing sounds, reflected fluorescent lights, pungent odors, slimy floors, and assorted BS made the situation even worse for me. I wasn't officially diagnosed yet, so my complaints were written off as me being whiny, and I was told to shut up and deal with it. So I did. I think I had more meltdowns in that four week span than I've had in the past two years combined, but whatever.

On top of the sensory overload, there was Jack.

I think something about being allowed to go shirtless and stare at the nearly bare asses of girls for an entire period emboldened him, because Jack promptly lost whatever semblance of restrain he'd had until then.

He made frequent attempts to grab me, trying to hold me against his bare skin, which was disgusting, and I spent most of the class trying to evade him. The swimsuit I was forced to wear fit a little awkwardly around my chest, which he delighted in pointing out to his buddies, staring unabashedly at my breasts. He managed to sneak up behind me and snap the strap of my swimsuit, even trying to pull it down off my shoulder, but I jerked away fast enough to prevent that. I was furious at this point, but I'm like, 5'2", maybe, whereas he was easily over 6'5", probably 300+ pounds, and I'm not stupid.

While all of this was happening, my new gym teacher, (they switched every semester), was busy trying to keep a couple of the other guys from drowning each other. She was one adult forced to watch over 40 rowdy ass kids in a swimming pool; she was a bit preoccupied.

The final straw came one Wednesday afternoon, the event that finally pushed me off the edge of the rationality I'd been clinging to and sent me plummeting into full on bloodthirst.

There I was, paddling around, minding my own business, when Jack and his two goons manage to corner me. I'm immediately suspicious, hackles raised, as they ask me fairly banal questions about how the pool is today and the like, sniggering the whole time. I give short, terse answers, trying to see if I could maybe slip past them. I spot an opening and bolt for it, but Jack was apparently expecting this.

As I swim through the narrow gap between him and one of his friends, he stretches his arm out, and actually manages to slip his hand under my suit to grab my breast. I froze for a moment, the delighted giggling of him and his friends echoing in my ears as if from a thousand miles away.

The next thing I knew, I was out of the pool, being held back by the gym teacher, and Jack had a bloody nose. He was shouting angrily at me, calling me a "crazy bitch!!" as his nose gushed blood into the water. There was mass confusion among the class. I was told to change quickly and sit in the hallway.

Apparently, the gym teacher had heard me screech like a banshee, followed by a number of shouts, and had looked over to see me wrestle out of Jack's grip, jump on his back, and throw him off balance enough to smash his face into the edge of the pool wall. I remembered none of this, but I did find a few chunks of greasy brown hair clenched in my fist that I'd evidently ripped from his scalp when the teacher pulled me off. I washed my hands thoroughly.

It was decided that I'd go in early to school tomorrow to have a little talk with the Dean. They would've just sent me there straight away, but gym was my last class of the day, and the Dean had already left by then for whatever reason, so it had to be postponed a little while. It was pretty heavily implied that I was going to be suspended, quite possibly even expelled, for what had happened.

I was furious. Not only had Jack made my life a living hell, but his horse shit was now going to be the cause of my expulsion?!? I wasn't about to go down without a fight, but I realized that I'd have to play this pretty smart if I wanted to weasel out of it.

The next morning, I did two things: I put on mascara, and I made a superficial, but rather painful incision on my right thigh, high enough so as to be covered by my shorts.

Normally, I hate wearing makeup, because I don't like the way it feels, but I'd worn mascara before and noticed the interesting effect it had on my appearance. Specifically, I already have pretty long, pretty dark eyelashes, so adding mascara draws a lot of attention to my eyes and makes them look huge. Like, total Bambi eyes- wide, innocent, naive, harmless.

I sat down in front of the Dean at 6:40 a.m. I didn't need to fake the fear in my expression, but I made sure to throw in something that could be interpreted as guilt, too, bowing my head and twisting my face in dismay.

Needless to say, the Dean was pretty pissed.

"Do you know why you're here, young lady?" he said

"Yes," I said softly.

"And you know that what you did is very serious?"

"Yes," I said again, making my voice tremble.

"Care to explain yourself, then?"

"I..." I began, my voice shaking. "I just wanted him to stop..."

"Stop what?" The Dean prompted, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I just wanted him to stop touching me!" I blurted. As I said this, I reached my hand under the table where he couldn't see it and dug my finger into the cut on my leg, causing me to lurch forward as if in a sob, my other hand covering my face as my eyes watered from the pain.

"Touching you?" The Dean asked, his brows now on a collision course for Mars.

I spent the next several minutes divulging all the shit that had happened to me that year, digging into my injury for some tears whenever necessary, and by the end of it the Dean looked horrified. He reaffirmed that no, I shouldn't have attacked Jack like that, but that they'd have to investigate the matter further.

I basically got off with a slap on the wrist, and after multiple testimonies from other girls, Jack got suspended for two weeks. I wasn't satisfied. They hadn't been able to expel him due to "lack of hard evidence", but I was out for blood.

He returned to school two weeks later, and I was ready.

One of his friends had a little brother in my bio class, a fairly chill dude named Owen, who I had worked out a deal with. See, Jack had been very vocal about his displeasure with me to his friends, which made its way to Owen, who, for the low low price of bailing his dumb ass out in biology, was more than willing to share that information with me. I had a direct pipeline.

Anything Jack shared with his friends made its way directly to me via Owen, and, as it turns out, this dude didn't keep a whole lot to himself.

There was a lot of shit I was tempted to nail him for. For instance, I found out he was selling drugs (mostly adderal and some occasional weed) from his locker, and had been cheating his way through most of his classes. However, I knew how suspicious it would look for me to report something like that so soon. It'd probably just look like I had a grudge, (which I did), and was trying to get even, (which I was).

He slipped up really, really bad about a week after his return, and that was when I struck.

See, he hadn't been subtle about his displeasure with my retaliation, and spent most of gym class sending really ugly looks my way. The gym teacher kept us as far away from each other as possible, but he managed to track me down in a passing period one day and rant at me about how I had screwed him over and that I was a lying little bitch, yada yada yada, and that he'd make me regret it. Funny, stole the words right out of my mouth.

I found out from Owen later that Jack had been bragging to his friends last night about the switchblade he'd stolen from one of those hunting stores downtown, and promised he'd show it off to them later that day.

I seized the opportunity.

I took a few seconds in the bathroom mirror, scratching at the scab on my leg until my eyes were teary enough to really sell the "terrified victim" look, then bolted down to the Dean's office, stuttering and shaking, crying out for help. The front desk lady was understandably startled by the sight of a seemingly panicked freshman girl bolting into the office, and called the Dean out right away. His face grew serious when he saw me.

"M-Mr. Dean, please help! He's gonna kill me!" I cried.

"Now, slow down," he said. "What happened?"

"Jack!" I said, resisting the urge to grin maniacally at the hardness that appeared in the Dean's eyes. "He, he cornered me in the hall! He called me a bitch and said he was gonna make me regret telling on him! H-he's got a knife!!"

"He what?!" The Dean barked.

Everything moved very quickly after that. The security guards were told to search the kids locker, while a couple other security officers were called down to get Jack out of his classroom and take him to the office. I was told by the front desk lady, who had heard the whole exchange, to hide with her in the copier room so Jack wouldn't see me.

They found the (stolen) knife in his backpack, and the drugs in his locker. That, combined with his previous charges, was enough to get him not only expelled, but arrested. I never saw him again, which is probably a good thing because I'm still mad and would probably try to kill him if given the opportunity.

TL;DR: Guy sexually harasses me in gym class, I give him a bloody nose, a two week suspension, an expulsion, and a criminal record, all in that order.

(source) story by (/u/FeralTaxEvader)

#prorevenge #by /u/FeralTaxEvader #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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forsakenoathkeeper · 6 years ago

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Chapter 13: Mortal Reminder

Shuu Sakamaki x Sora Yasutake

* Please be warned about potential adult content, including violence, gore, foul language, abuse, sexual content, and mature themes. Due to the nature of this series, all chapters will be rated for mature content *

~ About Sora ~ Fanfiction Master List ~ First Chapter ~ Chapter 12 ► (more coming soon) ~ Special thank you to everyone who is reading my OC story. ♥ It means a lot to me and I really appreciate the support.

Shuu wasn't a fan of this bedroom. Aside from the obvious reason - that everything was pink or white and bright and the furniture was of horrible taste - it was also an empty and heartless place. This was the temporary home of all the brides that had been sent to them. Reiji was good at making sure it was spotless, and free of any evidence that it had been previously lived in, before a new bride arrived.

He didn't care about those girls, don't be mistaken. But, there was something unsettling about this room. Perhaps, it was the remnants of their existence that pecked at him when he was in here. He wasn't scared of ghosts, feeble spirits that thought they could cause torment. But, he didn't enjoy the unease of their lingering, like some of his brothers did.

It was, perhaps, the only thing their kind shared in common: dead vampires, too, on occasion, liked to linger. View things were more obnoxious than a ghost that believed its pitiful life was worthy enough to continue existing in the afterlife. Of course, none would dare disturb him.

When Shuu pushed the door and invited himself inside, he found the room to be what he expected: it smelt like the girl, was a little stuffy, but otherwise ordinary. She had unpacked more since the last time he was in here, and had somewhat rearranged a few things.

Her school uniform was washed and ironed, hung up by a hanger that was dangling out in the open, up on a hook near her dresser. She had left her science book open on her desk, on the page where she last been reading. Various notebooks were lined up on the desk, propped up between two makeshift book ends - likely some decorations she had snatched from the study on the other side of the mansion: they were hideous, clearly things that wouldn’t be missed and of Reiji’s poor taste. Her pajamas were laid out on the bed, atop the sheets, which was somewhat made. Her hairbrush was even sitting on the edge of her desk.

Shuu was a bit amused by it. Most of their sacrifices kept this room perfectly organized and clean, at least that he could recall. Then again, this girl wasn’t from the church, was she? A non-Christian, so to speak. That seemed to explain her tastes, then.

At a glance, he could see the spines of her notebooks propped up on the desk. They were colored ones: red, blue, purple, green, orange and pink. He didn't know if there existed any difference between those ones; however, Shuu did know that she was especially protective over the black one - because of course she would choose that color for such devious things.

The black one... which wasn't on the desk.

Had she hidden it? She would do something so stupid, wouldn't she? How annoying... He definitely didn't want to have to actually look for it. But, Shuu stepped further into the room, leaving the door open behind him without much care to getting caught. In fact, it would probably be amusing if she caught him in here. He could demand she supply him with what he wanted and mock her for it... maybe she would disobey him.

It didn't take his keen eyes long to find it. The black notebook was tucked into the small space between the bed frame and the wall. How silly. Was she honestly worried about someone finding it? Shuu leaned down and scooped it up with deft fingers and was out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.

He contemplated briefly on where to spend the remainder of his night. Outside was a thought, but he didn’t usually like to go out there unless he had recently fed, when his body was warmed and satiated. He was cold, somewhat; so, for now, he would stay inside.

Shuu settled for the library on the other side of the mansion. It was massive, with an upstairs and downstairs section. Reiji wasn't in there tonight, leaving the room quiet and not stinking to high hell. Shuu enjoyed the large window on the upper level. It was curved at the top and indented into the wall with a seating. It was the perfect size for him to lounge on and prop his feet on the end cushion, inevitably leaving behind an indent that Reiji would bitch about later.

Perfect.

"Should I have said no to Yuma...?” Sora thought to herself as she set the wet dishes on the drying rack. She pulled the plug to let the soapy water drain. As she dried her hands, she leaned her back against the counter and dwelled heavily on it all.

Yuma’s offer... if she could even call it that... had caught her off guard. Perhaps, however, her refusal was even more surprising. It wasn’t particularly frightening, but felt... wrong. To feel such a way over the thought of another vampire indulging in her... Had she truly grown attached to Shuu? Perhaps, that was just how vampires were. “Marked” and, now, she would only ever belong to Shuu. Was that real? Or was he saying that to make her feel bad?

“...tch.” Sora set the damp towel on the edge of the counter and walked away, leaving the dishes to dry on the rack and suds in the bottom of the sink. She wasn’t thinking about what Reiji would likely to say to her, but that she needed to lay down. She needed a distraction.

Upstairs, the door to Sora’s room was open, but she didn’t immediately consider that strange. She closed the door behind herself and immediately flopped on the bed, leaving her shoed feet dangling off the edge. With the door having been left open, it was a little colder in here than usual, but she didn’t immediately move to wrap herself up in the blankets.

“Would things really be different...?” she thought to herself. She had not once considered Yuma as a way out. She didn’t look to him with eyes that pleaded for help. Maybe because he was a vampire, too. Maybe because some part of her doubted he really could save her. This situation was... her burden.

Then again... Out of worry over her own situation, Sora had briefly forgotten about what Yuma had requested of her. He wanted her to help him remember-... Remember what it was he had forgotten about Shuu? The more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed. What could she possibly do that he couldn’t? She could outright ask Shuu - no... no... she definitely couldn’t do that.

Shuu and Yuma were both vampires, but there was something subtly different about Yuma. She couldn’t really explain it. Maybe it wasn’t really there at all, and she was just imaging things. Maybe it was just the way he carried himself that gave her this impression. But, whatever it was...

“It’s like something out of a-...” Sora mumbled to herself, finishing her sentence mentally. Novel. It was like something out of a novel. Her situation? Sure, it was like a poetic horror, in a way, but... More so, whatever past and secrets were hidden between the two vampires, now that was thought provoking. With that, Sora’s thoughts drifted and she became lost in a daydream.

After some pondering, she rolled over and reached for the edge of the bed. Her fingers touched nothing but the bed frame and she froze up. She rolled over again, this time to look at the gap. Sure enough, it wasn’t there. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. It hadn’t slipped out and fallen. No, it was gone.

“What-...?” Sora began pacing the room, wondering if she had left it somewhere else. It wasn’t on the shelf or in her backpack, though it hadn’t left this room in a few days. She was usually good about keeping track of her things-... Oh. “The door was open... He wouldn’t-...!” She left the room frantically, leaving the door open behind her.

When he opened the notebook to the first page, it was labeled “chapter 8″. Part of him was disappointed for a second. Perhaps, it would have been more interesting if it was that woman’s journal? She was a little more private than their previous sacrifices. Her emotions weren’t always as readable as the girls from the church. Though, that sometimes made her a little more boring.

Then again... reading about her complaining about her pathetic life didn’t sound interesting when he thought about it. What he expected was for this book to be wicked, to hold desires that she kept to herself. Why else would she be so secretive about it? Chapter 8... ah well, as if the rest of it mattered much at all, anyway.

As he began, it didn’t take excellent perception skills to pick up on what kind of story the woman was telling. Suzaku... a young maiden, perhaps a princess, though it wasn’t explicitly stated, quite implied, longed to be with the warrior promised to protect her. She didn’t want to fulfill the duties bestowed upon her: a royal marriage arrangement, essentially, to a stranger. She wanted the man sworn to protect her.

Tch. How typical. It was exactly the kind of material he expected from that woman: a very predictable female fantasy. Yet, one thing did come as unexpected: the perspective. It would have made sense to tell the story through the eyes of Suzaku. But, it wasn’t. It was told through the eyes of her protector.

This chapter began with a battle, one man versus five others, and every little detail of how he defeated them against all odds... and ended in a sort of internal monologue, in which he longed for the girl just the same as she did for him. After that, it skipped to chapter 10, but Shuu wasn’t really thinking about the gaps, just kept reading, occasionally grimacing at the woman’s horrendous hand writing.

Another violent chapter, and it lead Shuu to wonder what kind of woman wrote about such things. This one was less cinematic, but somehow more dramatic. Perhaps she was more masochistic than he originally perceived... or an idiot: an idiot who thought she knew what she was talking about... a typical human with aspirations beyond their understanding.

He was close to the end of chapter ten... but then her loud footsteps interrupted him. He knew it was her before she even got close to the doorway. None of his brothers’ hearts beat that loudly, and none of them carried a heavy scent like that. He looked up even before she crossed the threshold.

“Sh-...! Shuu...” she panted from the doorway, cutting off what was going to be a shout, most likely. Was she actually going to yell at him? How interesting...

She looked a little winded, and Shuu couldn’t hold back a very slight, amused grin at the sight of her. Had she really been that anxious to find him? Shuu didn’t immediately move from where he lounged, curious to see what exactly she was going to do.

“Shuu,” she stated again as she began approaching him. “Shuu, why-... Please don’t take my things. That’s private.” Her tone wasn’t very firm, unsurprisingly. She sounded somewhat pleading, maybe even a little demanding. It was clear to him she was trying to restrain herself. Her eyes were desperate, but also determined.

“That’s cheeky of you: telling me what to do,” Shuu replied, calmly. He maneuvered a bit so that he was leaning up a little more, but still lounging. This leveled their heights somewhat, but she still remained taller as she stood beside him. Even so, she still looked meek.

“Well, it’s cheeky of you to take my things,” Sora replied, a bit uneasily, as if she was testing the waters with her response. Yet, it looked like the words spilled from her lips without much thought. “You are my thing,” Shuu replied without an ounce of hesitation. As soon as those words left his mouth, he could see her expression weaken. “As such, your things are also my things.”

Shuu wasn’t smirking this time. He was dead serious, and he knew she could see that. “I get that I’m your prey, but-” she began. “Do you get that?” he interrupted, speaking over her words. She was silent for a moment, staring at him with doubt riddling those brown eyes. “Shuu...” she spoke his name, a sound somewhat exasperated, maybe even a little sad. Or was she... annoyed with him? How amusing.

“I still deserve some respect. Please-” she gritted out. “-leave my writing alone.” That definitely wasn’t the most pitiful and pathetic please he had ever heard; but, it was most certainly the fakest. Was that supposed to be polite? Was he supposed to believe that she was attempting some humility? Shuu could see it in her red cheeks and glaring eyes, could hear it in her thundering heartbeat... She was mad at him.

He wanted to taste it.

Sora reached for the notebook, as if to gingerly take it from him. She wasn’t attempting to be quick, as if to swipe it from him. She moved steadily, almost like she was asking him permission to take it back. For a moment, Shuu acted as if he was going to let her. From where he held the notebook, it forced Sora to lean over him ever so slightly. Just as soon as her fingers grazed the paper, Shuu dropped the notebook on the bench beside him and used that hand to grab her arm.

She winced at the sudden contact, all her muscles tightening in response to it. For a second, Shuu stared at her face, finally catching the glimpses of fear in her brown eyes. “I don’t like stupid prey...”

Sora cried out as he tore her away from where she stood and dragged her onto the bench, twisting her body around until her back hit the bench and she was pinned beneath him. He pressed one of his legs in between hers as he laid his body over her, one hand to balance himself above her and the other sliding around to the back of her neck, gripping hair and skin as he firmly held her in place.

Her notebook was open beneath them, more specifically trapped under Sora’s body, open on the page where Shuu had left off. How strange... to think that she would consider that worthy of challenging him. Maybe she was unaware that that’s what this was...

“Sh - agh! That hurts!” she cried, wiggling pathetically beneath him. Her hands found purchase on his forearms, squeezing so tightly that her nails dug through his shirt into his skin. She didn’t bother trying to push him off. She seemed to know better than to try that. She was staring up at him with an expression that amused him immensely.

She was a little frightened, sure. It was the kind of fear he had grown accustomed to seeing in those eyes. But, more so, she looked angry. Her jaw was tight, teeth grimacing like she was about to snarl at him. He dug his nails into her skin where he held the back of her neck, mostly to get a reaction. She hissed, squeezing her eyes shut, and unconsciously tilted her head back, as if to lessen the pain.

Her throat never had looked so appetizing.

“You’re nothing but food,” he began, chilled breaths touching her skin. Sora’s eyes remained closed, but her brow trembled slightly as he spoke. “I’ll take what I want from you... your blood... your body... insignificant things...” His tongue tasted her throat before his fangs did, a quick lap at her pulse to make it tremble harder. She flinched once, then again when his fangs met her veins. She tried to mask that sound, a whimper unlike anything he had heard from her before.

Oh...

It was only when he paused that Shuu realized how rough he had been. Had he really been that careless? Or was he more parched than he realized? Blood had gushed from the wound, running down her neck and staining the once pale white pages of her notebook. He could feel how soaked his lower lip was, and even saw a droplet fall from his chin and land on the pages.

Had she noticed? Must have. Her eyes were glistening with tears that had yet to break the surface and fall. “Tch. To cry over something so stupid...” Sora turned her head away, and it was only then that Shuu realized that his grip on her had gone slack. Her eyes were open for a moment before she squeezed them shut. Her tears glistened a trail down her cheeks and joined the blood that stained her notebook.

“Mindless things... mean nothing to me. So long... as your blood is only mine...” Shuu’s fangs found a fresh new place to pierce on the other side of her neck. She flinched silently when those fangs penetrated her skin. She was silent as he took his time savoring her, but he could feel her trembling against him, until she faded from consciousness.

#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers fanfiction #fanfiction #oc fanfic #diabolik lovers oc #shuu sakamaki #Shuu Sakamaki X OC #sora yasutake #shuu sakamaki x sora yasutake

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cromulentbookreview · 6 years ago

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Ambergris!

Amberlough, Armistice, Amnesty...Ambergris? That could be a potential title for a 4th book, right? I mean, Ambergris is basically whale poo that makes perfume, but hey, it’d be a cool title. It’s also the basis of an awesome Bob’s Burgers episode.

I couldn’t find a gif from the actual episode, so...I picked this one.

And by all of that, I mean: Amnesty, book three of the Amberlough Dossier by Lara Elena Donnelly!

Hoo boy.

So there are two things I really, really love in a story: old timey spycraft (there’s a reason why one of my favorite ever TV series is TURN: Washington’s Spies. You don’t get more crafty than 18th century spycrafting!) and Art Deco. I love Art Deco. I love the style that emerged in the 1920s and 30s - when fashion, especially for women, took a massive heel-face-turn, when electricity was only just becoming mainstream, cars were phasing out horse-drawn transport, radio was becoming a thing and everybody smoked like chimneys and drank like fish, and figured it probably wasn’t bad for you. Seriously, you go from the 1910s, where women’s skirts were floor-length and heaven forbid someone see your ankles, to dresses with hemlines above the knee. We’re talking knee-exposure, people! That is a DEFCON-1 sartorial situation, people! Edwardian matrons are having heart attacks at the sight of their granddaughters’ knees. The 20s and 30s it seems combine the sort of fun, old-timey lawlessness of Ye Olden Days with just a enough modernity so things are fun. I mean, come on, it’s like Boardwalk Empire or The Untouchables, or Jeeves and Wooster or Caberet. Or the planet Sigma Iotia II from the Star Trek episode A Piece of the Action.

OK, so my love of the 20s and 30s and old timey spycraft has been well-established, right? Yeah, those are both things I very much enjoy. I love John Le Carre’s George Smiley books because that’s back when spying involved handwritten notes taped to the backs of benches and dead-drops in train station lockers. I’m sure modern spycraft still uses some of these old-school methods - you can’t hack a piece of paper, after all - but old timey spycraft just sounds, I dunno, more fun than modern spycraft. At least, it’s more fun for me to read about.

Anyway! This brings me around to Lara Elena Donnelly’s Amberlough Dossier series.

The Amberlough Dossier is technically a fantasy series because it takes place in a world that doesn’t exist. Though that world seems extremely familiar - it’s basically Sigma Iotia II from A Piece of the Action, or Berlin of Christopher Isherwood’s 1930s - a world of decadence, caberet, free-flowing booze and cigarettes...that is slowly rotting from the inside out. 1930s Germany is a fascinating place - and by “fascinating” I mean “pants-pissing-levels of terrifying.” As someone who spent many, many, many, some would say “too many” years spent learning German, a language I almost never, ever use in my daily life (like, ever), I also spent a lot of time learning about German history. The way the rise of the Nazis also saw the rise of the Kabarett. Anyway, Amberlough City is very much like a mix of New York, London, and Berlin of the 30s. You’ve got all the fun of the 30s, mixed with the rise of a Fascist party called the One State Party, or OSP, frequently referred to as “Ospies.”

Now, if you haven’t read Amberlough and Armistice, you should. You really should. In fact, why don’t you do that. Go ahead, I’ll wait.

Did you read them? Aren’t they fantastic? OK. So, on to the grand finale: Amnesty!

Just as Armistice begins with a three-year time jump after the events of Amberlough, Amnesty does the same, only this time, it’s five years after the events of Armistice, eight years after everything that went down during Amberlough. I’m not always a fan of time jumps - more often than not they make me angry, because I want to know absolutely everything that happens all the time always. Only, in the case of Amnesty, as with Armistice, I got over it pretty quick. Donnelly knows how to smooth over a time jump, filling us in with the events that happened in-between, and it does make sense that, for the most part, most major events of interest don’t always take place in perfect, chronological order. Anyway, we’re at five years after Armistice - Aristide and Daoud failed in their efforts to find Cyril in the Lisoan jungle, and they ended up setting up their own half-legit import/export business instead. Things are going pretty well - then Aristide gets a phone call from Prince Asiyah. They’ve found Cyril. Gasp!!

Meanwhile, in Amberlough, the Ospies have fallen. The revolution is over. If you were hoping for a whole book dedicated to guerilla warfare between Spotlight and the Ospies, well...sorry, you’ll be disappointed. Instead, we skip immediately to the interim government, trying to rebuild Amberlough from scratch. Lillian DePaul, with her husband Jinadh Addas and their son Stephen, now 13, have relocated back to the DePaul family home in Amberlough. The houses (a country estate and a town house) didn’t fare too well during Ospie rule, nor did the DePaul family’s assets. Plus, there’s also Cyril’s reputation is traitor to the nation to deal with. So Lillian, practically broke, has to contend with two crumbling houses that she can’t afford to staff properly, a husband who is not 100% happy with life in Amberlough, and a 13-year-old boy who acts like, well, a 13-year-old boy. Namely: moody, pissy and generally insufferable.

Then she gets a call out of nowhere from her old kind-of-sort-of-friend, Aristide Makricosta, with the news that her brother Cyril is still alive, and heading back to come stay with her. Yay?

Poor Cyril. Things were not great for him during the 8 years between the end of Amberlough and the start of Amnesty. He’d spent most of that time running dangerous ops for the Lisoan government in the jungle, with little regard for his own life. So when he finally emerges back to civilization he’s...well, different. There’s definitely a strong combination of PTSD and extreme guilt there. Plus a bit of survivalist kleptomania (hey, if you don’t know when you’re going to eat next, you’d squirrel away bits of food, too). Cyril is basically a man with a death wish, not giving a fuck about much of anything, preferring instead to retreat behind the mask of his work identities. Now he’s back - reunited with his old lover, Aristide, and his sister, Lillian. Plus, he gets to finally meet his nephew, Stephen.

But Cyril’s return to Amberlough isn’t exactly the best idea: once word gets out that he’s back, one of the politicians running for president of the new Amberlough decides to use Cyril as a political platform, namely that he should be arrested and put to death for treason. Cyril is like “sure, OK,” to that, but Lillian and Aristide? Yeah, they definitely don’t like that idea, and now they have to scramble to save not just Cyril, but themselves as well.

OK, so I fricking love this series. I tore through Amberlough and Armistice in just a couple of days, and I’m a slow reader, so that’s saying something. Amnesty is a completely satisfying end to the series, though I will still want more details about Cyril’s SuperHappyFun Jungle Adventures, or Aristide’s adventures in Porachis Bollywood or Coredlia’s rise as the leader of the resistance. Having those time gaps between books means we get to imagine all the adventures that happened in between. Which means: fanfiction! Woo! Or possible future short stories of novellas. (Cough cough hint hint Ms. Donnelly). If you’re not fond of big time gaps, then you might find this series frustrating, but still, Amnesty is an absolutely satisfying conclusion to the series.

My biggest complaint is, however, most definitely a spoiler, so I will be as vague as possible: one of the characters is killed off between Armistice and Amnesty. At first, I was pissed - it’s like when a character is killed off between seasons of a TV show because the actor got fired or left for a different job. You’re like, “noooo!” but, going directly from Armistice to Amnesty, the death of this particular character does make sense, and it’s not like their death is dismissed with a hand wave. It’s a huge part of the story. I’d already forgiven the off-screen death by the time I’d gotten halfway through the book. So if you’re tempted to throw the book across the room when you learn that [character] died between books, don’t. Keep going. You’d be cheating yourself otherwise.

My second biggest complaint is that we never get a map that includes the exact locations of Liso and Porachis. I want to know where everything is, damn it!

In all, you need to read this series. If you want a fantastic LGBTQ romance, a story that spans nearly a decade, old-timey Le Carre-level spycraft, political infighting, scheming, and a 1930s-esque world, then you need to read the entire Amberlough Dossier. Go on. You know you want to.

RECOMMENDED FOR: Fans of worlds inspired by the 20s and 30s, John Le Carre fans, anyone in need for a LGBTQ romance with spycraft elements.

NOT RECOMMENDED FOR: Anybody not interested in reading about the minutiae of politics of a world that doesn’t exist. I love that sort of thing but it’s not everyone’s cup of tea.

OVERALL SERIES RATING: 5/5

AMNESTY RATING: 4.5/5

AMNESTY RELEASE DATE: April 16, 2019

ANTICIPATION LEVEL FOR ANOTHER BOOK / NOVELLA / SHORT STORY / ANYTHING: Olympus Mons

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daveywankenobie · 6 years ago

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Sometimes a bad day is a bad day. There’s absolutely no avoiding one when it really hits and occasionally it might seem like the fates are intent on conspiring to make you feel miserable.

At other times however there’s more going on – and people often fail to see the truth.

They can make and then perpetuate their own misery – becoming trapped by it as the years roll by.

Yesterday was a nice day.

By that I mean it was hot, oppressive and full of thunderstorms or rain but heat doesn’t bother me any more and I like rain.

I love the sound it makes when it’s really heavy.

I started the day getting burned though – and quickly realised that going out in a teeshirt without any sun cream was a bad idea.

It seemed cloudy enough – but clearly cloud is only half of the picture and today my forearms are still itching.

It didn’t matter at the time though because I was wearing red.

For those who are newer readers I’ve always had an uneasy relationship with this colour and avoided it in case it singled me out for bullying. This used to be a common occurrence (link) but one day it seemed to stop (link) and since then I’ve adopted red as my favourite colour (link).

It’s not so much because of what I look like wearing it – but more about how it makes me feel.

I feel strong when I dress in red because of its symbolism.

Strength was definitely needed at the start of the day too – because I was walking around the Warwick food festival.

Although I could probably eat a lot of the things there and work them off I’d already had my ‘Saturday off plan’ (which is becoming something of a regular thing).

This post weigh in day of weekly culinary relaxation only works if I’m willing to then draw a line shortly afterwards.

If I carry on eating then I doubt it will stop in time for next weekend’s weigh in.

As lovely as all the food looked I don’t think a massive frying pan full of sausages is for Davey any more…

So I kept walking.

My objective (as always) was to build the miles and keep going until the scales (at least in my mind) were balanced – and around 8 miles later I sat down for a rest.

I was in a good mood. I’d done lots of exercise and I’d smashed my daily goals.

Fortuitously this happened just before the heavens opened – and as I sat in the window of a friendly hostelry drinking a coffee whilst watching the rather Biblical deluge outside I started listening to the couple next to me – who were also looking at the same scene.

The lady and her partner were separated from me only by carpet – but in attitude they couldn’t have been more different.

The woman looked angry.

Her whole body seemed to be coiled and ready to strike the first person to enter her personal space.

The skin on her knuckles was whiter than the rest of her hands and both were being clenched and unclenched.

‘She doesn’t deserve that job. I make her life possible by working for her. She’s a waste of space.’

The man nodded and sipped his wine. He looked tired and drawn and although generally slender had a large beer belly.

‘I hate her.’ Said the lady, also drinking wine, slim and in possession of a rotund middle.

A waitress came over to tidy the table that they were on and the lady whispered something to her – most of which I missed.

‘…and don’t think I’m being funny with you – it’s not your fault. It’s your manager’s.’ She looked behind the waitress, motioning at an unseen space behind her where no-one stood.

‘No-where to be seen. Makes me sick…’ she finished as her words once more returned to audible levels.

The waitress nervously smiled, said sorry for whatever the problem was and shuffled away.

‘It’s the same everywhere.’ The lady hissed to her partner, after the waitress had retreated. He remained silent and continued to look out of the window at the downpour – which by this time had turned the street into a shallow river.

‘They exist because of us.’ Said the lady under her breath. ‘They wouldn’t have a job without us.’ She concluded – by this time almost growling.

The man stoically looked out of the window – and I turned up my playlist.

I was buying some summery tracks on iTunes and making a happy collection of tracks to walk home with while I waited for the rain to subside.

I had an umbrella but I like to walk without one and feel my arms swing back and forth.

I had my feet on the low windowsill in front of me and was flexing my toes in my trainers to the beat of my music.

People were rushing by outside in soaking wet tee-shirts and many were laughing at how ridiculously drenched they were. Above the volume of my headphones I could still hear peals of thunder as flashes of lightning briefly illuminated the suddenly dark street in front of me.

The heat was ebbing out of the afternoon with each raindrop though and the air was slowly beginning to cool.

I looked across the carpet to my right again – and could see the pursed lips of the woman silently moving as she talked to her companion.

I could no longer hear the words but her body language spoke volumes.

Whatever private hell she’d constructed in her mind was still in full flow. Her obvious feeling that someone else in life had what she deserved was busy consuming her.

The man sat in silence and I wondered how many times he’d heard this speech or a variation of it.

He looked like he knew that the quickest way to bring it to a conclusion was not to react, and instead just to let it flow over him whilst waiting for a change in the wind.

I’ve seen that face before – in my childhood home as my father, my brother and myself waited for the storms surrounding my mother to subside and for blue skies to re-appear.

They rarely did though. The skies mostly remained cloudy and we were always separated by this.

By carpet.

Just carpet and perspective.

That was all that stood between us.

A stretch of worn rug, trodden on by thousand of feet and aged with time – but combined with her outlook on life it might as well have been an ocean for the gulf it presented.

I was pulled back to the present as I re-focused on the scene in front of me, watching this bitterly unhappy woman looking through the same window with a totally different way of viewing the world.

She was bitter and her eyes showed that this emotion was no stranger to her life. The lines on her face bore little evidence of smiles and she seemed to be drinking her wine with anger – to fuel and enable her mood rather than to relax it.

All of a sudden there it was.

The end to the rain.

This event passed her by as she continued in her angry rant – and I doubt she saw the first shafts of sunlight hit the pavement in front of her.

She was still there and still angrily hissing through her teeth when I left half an hour later – and her husband/partner/friend still hadn’t said a word.

She’d not once asked him for his opinion – or sought through him another way of looking at the situation.

The only monologue she could hear was her own and she’d made at least two people unhappy in the process – as well as herself.

I marvelled at the energy it must have taken to remain that angry.

As I walked away and the physical gap widened between us I felt the cool breeze that had replaced the humid heat.

Everything looked fresh, and damp trees slowly dripped themselves dry onto the pavements below their shade.

The world felt renewed somehow – even though it was just the same but a little damper.

I walked home thinking about the gulf between myself and this woman – and how some find the gift of perspective whereas others never do.

I’ve no idea what causes people like my mother or her to remain rigidly unmoving and bitter throughout their lives – or what makes them so inflexible or incapable of change.

I’m glad that it’s not how I feel about the world though.

I’m glad I’m not angry and that I don’t feel continual resentment about what other people have and the things I don’t.

The truth is I have enough – and that’s all anyone needs. I am healthy and I am alive – and EVERYTHING else is a matter of perspective.

The past doesn’t matter – and neither does the future. I can influence it but I can’t control it and to think otherwise is folly.

It’s also better to live with an absence of want. If someone earns more than me then I wish them all the best and hope that it brings them happiness.

Money and possessions have never done this for me though.

I feel happy with a red tee-shirt that cost me £2 in a charity shop not because it’s a material possession – but because of the mental and physical change it represents.

It makes me feel happy because I worked hard to wear it and I chose to not just sit there and feel bitter that I couldn’t.

I got up and made my life better because I didn’t want to be like my mother – sitting at the opposite end of that carpet and separated from her by nothing.

Davey

Separated by carpet Sometimes a bad day is a bad day. There's absolutely no avoiding one when it really…

#Bereavement #Bullying #Diets #Exercise #Fitness #Health #healthy eating #Positive Thinking #Slimming World #slimmingworld #weight #Weight loss #weightloss

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jippy-kandi · 7 years ago

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Digimon Adventure tri. – Chapter 4: Loss | Sorato

My thoughts on everything Sorato in the fourth chapter of tri..

I MADE IT! :D I said I would get this out before Chapter 5 was released . . . and it’ll be out in less than 24 hours. YAY! XD;

Reminder that this post is solely about Sorato -- for my thoughts on “Loss” as a whole, go here.

First, this scene happens when Sora cooks everyone food:

Mimi: "Wow [Sora]! Whoever becomes your husband is lucky!” Sora: *Blushes.*

It works because everyone (us, the audience) knows that Yamato will be that “lucky” husband in the future! I liked it a lot, haha. The only thing that would’ve made it A+ is if the camera had casually panned to Yamato. lol.

Now onto the REAL stuff. While everyone is sleeping, Sora goes off to brood about Piyomon being a giant twat to her, and Yamato and Taichi follow her to find out what’s wrong.

Yamato: “What’s bothering you?” Sora: “Why does it matter?” Yamato: *Does a frustrated hand motion then looks at Taichi to say something.* Taichi: “Uh . . . The food earlier was real good!” Yamato: *Facepalms.* Taichi: “C’mon, what’s wrong?” Sora: “Stupid.” (And then they sit in silence for a bit before Agumon comes down the river.)

So . . . I actually really liked this scene. I liked how it showed their different approaches and dynamics -- and I just liked the fact that it was a really intimate moment between my three favourite characters.

But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t without its flaws. The most glaring, by far, is the fact that Taichi and Yamato are so utterly stupid to not know what is upsetting Sora. It’s not even a characterisation issue or anything like that -- it’s simply a lazy/weak writing issue.

Do you know how easy it would have been for the tri. staff to set this scene up without Taichi and Yamato being completely fucking dense? INCREDIBLY EASY. So easy that it still boggles my mind how they just decided that it would be fine if Piyomon was a raging bitch to Sora -- and Taichi and Yamato somehow managed to miss that (despite both of them having a third eye stalking Sora at all times???). “Loss” is probably the second best tri. film overall, but it’s also the one with the most instances of weak writing. How did they manage to “achieve” that?!

My second issue is that Yamato probably should know how to “handle” Sora at this stage -- he did date her three years ago and the two seem like close friends in tri.. Yamato has always been perceptive and sensitive to others (even if he doesn’t want to admit it), so I think he should’ve known what to do by now.

Here’s the thing: I think Yamato at 11 years old would’ve handled this situation better. I actually think tri. has regressed Yamato a bit -- in that, I think 11-year-old Yamato is more mature than 17-year-old Yamato. Which is just bizarre, but whatever. (And I’m talking about Yamato in all four chapters of tri. out so far.)

But back to the scene. Admittedly, Yamato not handling Sora well here doesn’t bother me that much -- it’s not like it’s dumb writing, like him and Taichi being fucking obtuse and not knowing shit. But it still would’ve been better for Yamato to have known what to do -- because I think Adventure showed us that he would’ve been capable of it. The growth Yamato showed from the beginning to the end of Adventure . . . he totally would’ve been able to. (And let’s forget about these characters for a moment -- the average 17-year-old boy should know what to do tbh.)

But that’s not how it played out -- and that’s fine. I still liked the scene, because their dynamic is actually “right”. Yamato asks Sora what’s wrong with her, she responds as she would, and then Yamato does a frustrated hand movement that frankly gives me life, hahaha. It bothers Yamato so much that Sora is upset and he doesn’t know what to do. I love the subtleties of that moment.

(Just throwing this out there: Maybe Yamato would’ve acted differently with Sora if Taichi hadn’t been there? This is total fanfiction territory, haha. But I’d like to think that was the case: that Yamato would’ve handled the situation better without Taichi around. Again, in no way does tri. imply this to be the case -- but it’s a nice thought, no?)

Then, to break the heaviness of the scene, Agumon comes down the river. This makes Taichi go get him and the two exchange some dialogue, as Yamato’s attention goes to them, but then . . .

Yamato: *Turns his attention back to Sora.* Sora: *Gets up slowly and walks away.* Yamato: “Sora? Sora!” *Turns back to glare at Taichi to motion him to follow and runs after Sora.*

I just think it was nice for the writers to have it be Agumon who goes down the river -- so that Taichi would go get him, leaving Yamato to turn his attention back to Sora before she leaves which, again, let’s Yamato “lead” the chase for Sora. It’s such a small choice to make in the writers’ room -- but that’s the attention to detail writers should make. I have no fucking clue what they were smoking when they decided that the audience were dumb enough to buy that Taichi and Yamato wouldn’t notice Piyomon being a bitch to Sora. Yes, I will never let this ridiculous move go.

When we see the trio again, Yamato and Taichi are still following Sora. She stops walking momentarily and this conversation happens between Taichi and Yamato:

Taichi: “Hey, did I do something wrong?” Yamato: “That never changes with you. Can’t you read the situation?” Taichi: “I don’t know! Do you know what to do in times like this?” Yamato: “. . . Should we ask Takeru?”

This exchange does annoy me a bit, because I don’t think Yamato would ever suggest asking Takeru for advice. Yamato has a lot of pride, so as if he would ever ask his younger brother for advice. It’s not him. But I can give this scene a pass -- because it’s clearly meant to be a “joke” to break the tension of the scene. I just think the tri. writers could’ve come up with a better joke that broke the tension -- you know, one that doesn’t make you question Yamato’s characterisation.

But it’s also very obvious that the writers were making it a throwback to the scene in Adventure where Sora is crying (and Taichi is completely clueless about what to do, whilst Yamato just wants to let her cry) and Takeru manages -- BY SHEER FLUKE -- to make Sora feel better. I get it. I do.

But I just don’t agree with their interpretation of the scene -- because Takeru only managed to make Sora feel better because he was a naive little kid. He’s not some mastermind that knew how to “handle women” (like tri. is seriously pushing throughout the series . . .), but he just happened to be young and innocent enough to say something “kid-dumb” that cheered Sora up. If Yamato and Taichi had approached Sora the exact same way as 8-year-old Takeru? Sora would have still been upset and pushed them away. It only worked for Takeru because of his age -- and not because he’s some girl-whisperer who knew what to do. So while I understand the intention of the throwback, I just don’t agree with it being worked in the way it was.

Anyway, the scene continues with Sora speaking up.

Sora: “I can hear you.” Taichi: “Hey, cheer up.” Sora: “What do you mean? You don’t even know why I’m upset.” Yamato: “Why are you upset?” Sora: “I don’t know myself.” Taichi & Yamato: “What a pain.” Sora: “Well sorry, I’m a big pain!” *Runs off.*

Look, there is a reason that Yamato is my favourite character in Digimon -- and not Taichi, despite him being an A+ hero. (Taichi is my third favourite, but there’s a massive gap between them.) There are differences between Yamato and Taichi that set them apart from each other. One of the many differences is that Yamato has tact -- Taichi does not. Taichi definitely would’ve said “What a pain” about Sora -- but Yamato would not. He just . . . wouldn’t. Yamato only insults someone if he feels attacked or he’s being super emotional about something -- here, he is neither. He just says it . . . because??? (And yes, he is saying it about Sora. Are there people out there who actually think Taichi and Yamato are empathising with Sora about “what a pain” it is for her to not know what’s upsetting her? LMAO.)

(Side note: My biggest issue with Yamato’s characterisation in tri. is that I really think the writers struggle to understand this aspect of Yamato . . . which is why he’s crazy aggressive in Reunion and fits the typical “tsundere” mold more than Yamato ever did in Adventure. I think he’s about 75% in-character in tri., personally. Which isn’t a bad percentage -- but it could still be better.)

Again, I get that this is just the tri. writers cutting corners and wanting to break the tension in the scene with a “joke”. (Haha, so funny.) But just because you understand why the writers did it, doesn’t mean you can’t point it out as weak writing -- because even though this is an incredibly small thing, it also happens to put a little dent in Yamato’s characterisation. (The fact that you never think “Yamato wouldn’t do that” in Adventure, but you think it more often than you should in tri. -- definitely says something.)

(Another side note: How can Sora not know what’s upsetting her? It’s pretty damn obvious!? It’s the forced drama between you and your digimon, girl. Sigh. Again, the writers placing more weight than necessary on “issues” to create “deep, meaningful drama”. And this isn’t just a Chapter 4 problem -- the melodrama can be so overwhelming sometimes throughout tri.. It’s like the writers think melodrama equals “smart, mature writing”. It doesn’t.)

The scene continues.

Taichi: “Hey, chill out!” Sora: “You two sure can’t read the situation! You guys have bad timing and always fight! Everyone only thinks about themselves! They’ve never even thought of what I think! . . . Or how I feel.” *Stops running.* “No one . . . does.” Taichi: “I could never understand how you feel, Sora. You’re always in people’s business, but you solve your own problems and never talk about it. Well, maybe that’s the good part about you though.” *Sora has a flashback to when Piyomon tells her something similar and that Sora’s the #1 person she cares about. Flashback ends and we see that Sora is crying.* Yamato: “Sora . . .?” *Meicoomon comes and disrupts everything.*

Contrary to what Sora says, Yamato should be able to (and can) “read situations”. They even showed us that just moments ago! (And it doesn’t require Yamato to have ESP or some superhuman-level power of insight. It’s not rocket science, folks.) So, yes, tri. is definitely screwing with his characterisation here. And if you don’t think so? You have a really warped perception of his character. I honestly don’t understand people who just accept all of the characterisations in tri. with open arms and use “but they’re so complex!” as an excuse. Seriously? The writers of tri. have shown you just how poorly they can write -- tri. as a whole is average at best (except for Confession . . . best written tri. film by far) -- and you don’t think their characterisations can be a bit off sometimes?

At least Taichi admits that he can’t understand Sora? But this scene also shows that Taichi tries. So there’s that. I did like this bit.

Next, Machinedramon appears and Taichi and Yamato both shout out Sora’s name and dive to protect her. Yay!

The kids then get scattered and separated from each other and blah blah blah. Eventually, Machinedramon (with Gennai) attacks Sora again and she falls to the ground to protect herself and Piyomon.

Piyomon: “Sora . . .” Sora: *Looks up to see the boys in front of her.* “Taichi . . . Yamato . . .” Yamato: “Don’t push yourself.” Taichi: “You OK, Sora?” Sora: “Not exactly . . .”

Presumably Agumon and Gabumon have momentarily stopped Machinedramon for a bit. I like that when the camera zooms out from Sora protecting herself/Piyomon, you can see Yamato standing in front of her, shielding her. Then you get the scene from Sora’s perspective and you can then see Taichi standing/protecting her a bit further back.

Machinedramon and Gennai then appear again to attack (having recovered from Agumon and Gabumon, I guess), and we see Yamato raise his right arm out to protect Sora again. They also give us a second shot of this from further away where they look super tiny. Yay!

(Is this shielding thing their ultimate portrayal of love? Even in the Digimon Adventure tri. Stage Play this past August 2017, they had Yamato shield Sora from Etemon. I’m not complaining, but . . . do something different!?)

The kids run away and somehow end up on a ship. (Sorry, I’m skimming this to all the Sorato-relevant bits . . . I can’t sit through an entire tri. film after my first watch.) We eventually get this scene:

Koushirou: “This won’t last much longer! Sora-san and Mochizuki-san, evacuate to a safer place!” Sora: “But . . .” Yamato: “We’ll be the bait!” *Runs off the ship with Taichi and Hikari following after him.*

Yamato immediately volunteers himself as bait to protect Sora! Yay! Yes, Meiko doesn’t exist, haha. JOKES. :p (I don’t know why Gennai is only after Sora and Meiko? lol. That’s how much the plot of tri. interests me . . ..)

And that’s it in Chapter 4!

Overall, I think Sorato could’ve been handled a lot better than it has been. Missed opportunity, and all that. Don’t get me wrong -- I still like and appreciate everything we got (minus the criticism I have for some choices), but let’s be real here: the tri. writers put fanservice above all else. You’re kidding yourself if you think otherwise.

Fanservice (and the money-spending that it tries to inspire) is the reason Takari and Koumi have been teased so much in tri. -- those two ships are UNRIVALLED in popularity in Japan. Takari and Koumi have virtually NO COMPETING SHIPS. Like, 90% of the Japanese shipping audience prefers Takari and Koumi to all the other ships that involve those respective characters (Daikari, Mimato, Joumi, etc.). In the meantime, Sorato has Taiora to compete with -- which is why we have all the ambiguity and triangle-baiting.

But I think it would have been better if tri. had put the actual story and characters first -- and just tried to progress the storyline with Sorato still dating in the background. (This, naturally, would advance Sora and Yamato’s characters too.) All the fanservice for Takari and Koumi could have been done for Sorato instead. (If tri. didn’t care so much about what they think would make them the most money . . . which is totally understandable, by the way. I’m not saying that Toei Animation has no business making money, ha.) Heck, that scene between Maki and Daigo in Chapter 4? That super cheesy over-the-top “love” scene? That was too much. Why not tone that scene down by about 9000 and have it happen between Sora and Yamato? (I’m joking.)

But you know what I’m trying to say, right? Tri. could have allotted that 1% of romance in the series to Sorato instead of teasing Takari and Koumi (because they lead nowhere . . .). I have nothing against Takari and Koumi (well, I find Koumi a little annoying now, thanks to tri. . . .), but these are the facts. Toei Animation could have gone with progressing Sorato over shipbaiting Takari and Koumi -- but they chose the latter to make more money (because more fans ship Takari/Koumi). I’m fine with their business choice, but I also think it’s a bit of a shame. Missed opportunity!

I really hope Chapter 5 is good. No more dumb writing, please! I think tri. Hikari is “cute” (I don’t actually like Hikari in Adventure or 02 . . .), but I don’t care at all for Meiko. But we’ll see. I always judge the writing, regardless of whether I like a character or not. So, please! Let’s do this, tri.!

(Maybe I’ll get the Sorato post for Chapter 5 out next week? HAHAHA. Everyone loves a good joke! XD)

#digimon adventure tri #digimon tri #yamato ishida #sora takenouchi #sorato #digimon #sorato analysis #screenshots #sorry this is so late #i'm getting super lazy in my old age haha #i'm too old for digimon #luckily there are only two films left!#XD

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ttevol-neb · 7 years ago

Text

The Worst of Circumstances

I’m totally not breaking into your flat it’s just I got locked out of mine so I picked your lock and was going to use the fire escape to climb through my window - BENCUS AU

Chapter 4 - Unsatisfying Advice and Skills of Persuasion

"So you think I should leave it, then?" Marcus clarifies, as tiny, eager hands grab onto his hair and tug, hard.

"Henry, don't pull." Ted admonishes his son softly before raising an unimpressed eyebrow. "Yes, I think you should leave it."

Marcus brings his fingers to the child's hand and unclenches his surprisingly strong little fist. He gingerly pulls it away with, thankfully, only a few thick strands of black hair included.

"Come on, buddy, sit properly." Marcus encourages, manhandling the toddlers body so he's sat on his lap, facing Ted. His father is currently cutting slices of cucumber and carrot on the other side of the kitchen counter and Henry seems to find tugging on Marcus' collar interesting enough for now - what is it with small children and pulling on things? - so Marcus looks back up at Ted. "Are you sure?"

Marcus has to admit that being told to let it be wasn't the response he was hoping for. Marcus thought his best friend would show a little more excitement when he recounted the epic tale of the night before and the discovery of the man he's ninety-nine percent sure is his soul mate.

It'd only taken an hour for a locksmith to come out, and a further thirty minutes for his front door to be in full working order again. After an uncomfortable goodbye with Ben - Marcus had opted for a hug and Ben for a handshake, which resulted in Ben's hand getting awkwardly crushed in between their chests - Marcus had hightailed it to Ted's, in dire need of his ever present voice of reason. Marcus can't count the number of times Ted has talked him and Winston out of impulsive decisions that, on reflection, they shouldn't have needed to be talked out of in the first place.

"Marcus," Ted says, stepping around the identical little boy sat cross legged on the floor smashing transformers together, and pulling plastic plates down from an overhead cupboard. "You broke into this guys flat, scared the life out of him, drank his beer and ate his food, kissed him, found out he had a boyfriend, and then continued to come on to him. And you actually want to carry on pursuing it?"

Marcus grimaces. Well doesn't that just make him sound like a massive douchebag. Marcus isn't that detached, no matter how much evidence Ted has to the contrary. He knows how bad his situation looks when you lay everything out, but it was different at the time. He really fucking likes this guy.

When Ben was looking up at him through his sinfully long lashes, all doe-eyed and demure, Marcus couldn't imagine doing anything besides letting himself fall a little and kissing him. And it's not like he would've pressed Ben to kiss him if Ben didn't want to. Frankly, he finds those that constantly pester people to get with them annoying and a little bit sickening. If Ben hadn't have been responding to him like he was, all quickened breathing and wide eyes, then Marcus would've left it. He knows a lost cause when he sees one and this is not one of those times.

There was just something a bit off about Oliver. Marcus probably doesn't have the most objective standing here, but he can't shake the feeling that he and Ben don't work together in that effortlessly smooth way that couples can. Especially with them being together for as long as they have. It isn't right.

And when Marcus was with him, all he could think about was that them meeting felt like it was written in the stars.

Ted's looking at him, the bastard, waiting for a reply, even though it's clear there isn't one that doesn't make it sound like he wants to terminate a strangers relationship for his own selfish gain. Damn Ted and his indisputable logic. Marcus resigns himself to that fact that he can't find the words to describe it without saying it really isn't as bad as it looks! which is a sure fire way to make him think it most definitely is as bad as it looks.

"Well it sounds bad when you put it like that." Marcus mumbles sullenly into the mop of blonde curls in front of him, frowning at Henry's little feet.

"That's because it is bad." Ted states, an amused smirk on his face, as he arranges the vegetables on the table with the rest of the food. "Honestly, I don't know how you can't see how pushy you are sometimes."

"But he's pretty." Marcus pouts, fully aware that his voice has climbed to that whiny pitch that makes him sound like a spoilt child. After both his mother and Winston pointed out it happened whenever he got frustrated, he decided to embrace it and use his pouting power to it's full potential. Sure enough, Ted's expression softens slightly, even mixes with something close to pity.

"I'm sure there are plenty of other pretty guys out there who'll sleep with you."

"Not like him there isn't."

Ted pauses in setting the table and looks to Marcus for a moment, his tongue between his teeth. "Are you seriously going to break them up just so you can shag him?"

"No, no, it's more than that. He-", Marcus sighs. This is proving more difficult than he thought it would be. How can he articulate something he can't even put into thoughts in his own head? He knows the sudden want he feels for Ben isn't solely about sex, but he admits he'd be more than happy to fuck him and then take it from there. The difference, for what Marcus thinks is the first time in his life, is that he would look forward to the taking it from there part just as much as the fucking part. Just from that one night he knows there's something between them, something worth exploring. He knows he'll regret it if he doesn't. "It's hard to put into words, okay? It's more than just physical. Like... I don't know, I just wanna hang out with him, sit and listen to him talk or... whatever." Marcus tries to explain. "And I don't want to break them up, thank you very much, I just... don't exactly want them to be together either."

"Doesn't matter, does it?" Ted reinforces stubbornly, making sure the rose tinted glasses are fully yanked off Marcus' face.

Marcus run a hand through his hair. "You don't get it, Ted, you didn't see him."

"I don't think I have to, mate, the facts speak for themselves. He's with someone." Ted heads for the bottom of the stairs, none the wiser of the scowl aimed at his back, then yells, "Heather, lunch is ready!"

Henry fidgets in Marcus' lap until Marcus cottons on and lowers him enough that he can scramble to the ground and sit himself at the table, his brother not far behind.

"But he's perfect," Marcus complains, defeated. And to think he was so excited about this. "And in the flat right below mine. What're the chances?"

"Next to none," Ted acknowledges as he helps his sons dish food onto their plates, "Which is why he's unavailable."

"I can't just leave it, Ted, not now that I know he's there."

"He has a boyfriend." Ted reiterates.

Marcus huffs. "You're no fun, you know that?"

"Aw, come on." Ted protests, amusement still annoyingly present in his tone. "That's not true, is it boys? I'm fun, aren't I?"

"Yeah!" Henry yells, flicking sweetcorn off the end of his plastic fork in his excitement.

"Daddy plays monsters 'nd ev'ything!" Ryan assures adamantly, through a mouthful of chewed up crisps.

"See. Monsters and everything." Ted smiles, giving a definite nod. "And are you sure you want to get involved with him? I mean, he cheated on his boyfriend. I'm pretty sure that takes him out of the running to be the angel you think he is."

Marcus' stomach twists uneasily. He hadn't thought of that. Hateful as he is, Oliver does love Ben, that much is clear, and would be heartbroken if he ever found out.

"Just remember that, okay?" Ted asks before turning to the stairs again. "Heather, come on! Before the munchkins eat it all!"

Approaching footsteps sound from the hallway and Marcus only just has time to brace himself before three feet of happiness barrels into him, nearly knocking him over.

"Marcus!" Heather smiles toothily up at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle as he sways precariously backwards.

"Hey, princess!" Marcus greets, hoisting her up onto his hip. He has to heft her up again so she won't slide down his leg, and takes a moment to debate if she's got heavier or if he needs to work out more. He indicates to the messily folded piece of paper in her hand. "What's this, then?"

"It's my cake." She says proudly, unfolding it and holding it up in front of them.

"A cake? Why would you need a cake?"

Heather whacks his shoulder playfully, smiling through her gapped teeth. "You know why!"

"Hmm," Marcus wrinkles his brow and scrunches up his nose, feigning thought. "No, no, I don't think I do. What could you need a cake for? It's not like there's a special day coming up or anything."

"Marcus!" She squirms against his side, laughing. "Stop! You do remember!"

"Nope. I don't remember anything that would need a cake. Do you, Ted?"

Ted looks up from wiping snot from Ryan's nose, puzzled. "No, don't think I do."

"Dad! Stop it!" An edge of frustration comes in to her voice. "It's my birthday next week!"

"Oh! Right!" Marcus relents as Ted makes similar noises of realisation. "That's the big event! Remind me how old you're going to be again?"

"Seven!"

"Right, right. Well, it's a wonderful cake." He places her on the floor. "Go on, go eat."

Marcus watches as the kids chow down on their lunch, absently smiling at the love and contentment that he always feels when he's around Ted's family. The shit radiates off them. Lucky sods.

It's not long, Heather is only on the fourth round of describing the dress she's going to wear on her birthday, until Marcus' thoughts wind back around to Ben.

He's definitely less giddy about the whole ordeal than when he first arrived. Part of him wants to be mad at Ted for ruining his excitement, to shake him and say "Why can't you just be happy for me?!", but the rest of him knows he's only telling the truth. Ben has a boyfriend. It's as simple as that. He's not even playing the game, let alone up for grabs.

The problem, though, is that Marcus is finding it increasingly harder to ignore the squirming of his insides whenever he thinks about Ben. That it was difficult to tamper down in the first place probably isn't helping. Or that he thinks about Ben a lot.

Dammit, Marcus can't just let this slide. There's something good and real and potentially amazing on the table here. Ben felt it too, that's why they kissed, Marcus knows it.

One last shot. Marcus will give Ted one last chance to show him a glimmer of a real reason to pursue this. That's all he needs, just the edge of a valid justification and he will take it and run.

"You really think I should leave it?"

Ted sighs and digs the palms of his hands into his eyes.

"I mean, this guy could be the one and you want me to forget about him?"

"He's not the one. You spent one night with him. In different rooms, I might add."

Marcus grunts and folds his arms across his chest. "You're no help-"

"Just because I'm not telling you what you want to hear-"

"I should've gone to Winston."

"Why didn't you?" Ted squints at him, "It's not like he has a family to look after while his wife is away or anything."

Marcus slumps in his seat. "Because he's set me up on another date tomorrow, hasn't he? And if I talk to him about Ben he'll get all offended. You know what he's like."

"I don't know why you don't just tell him to stop, you know."

Marcus shrugs. "Makes him happy. And more often than not I get a decent blowjob out of it, at least."

Ted rolls his eyes and fights a losing battle with a grin. "That figures."

"I was thinking about bailing on this one, actually. Saying I'm ill or something."

"Because of your neighbour?" Ted asks, annoyance rising in his voice. "Are you kidding me? Marcus, you have no chance with him."

"You didn't see what he was like with me-"

"Did he, or did he not, explicitly ask you to leave it?"

Marcus sighs. Damn Ted all the way to hell for always making so much goddamn sense. "Well-"

"Answer the question."

"Yes, he did, but-"

"No. No buts. Go on this date, get your blowjob, and move on to the next one. Let the guy live his life in peace. I'm sure the last thing he needs is you, a stranger, bursting in to it and spouting all this crap about soul mates and perfection and the bloody one."

"Dad?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"What's a blowjob?"

-*-

Marcus decides it would be rude to not at least thank Ben for letting him stay the night. And Oliver, of course, as well. His mother brought him up with proper manners after all, even if he does only remember them after breaking and entering. Ah well, better late than never.

He decides to splash out on a fancy bottle of wine, which proves harder than he thought it would due to his somewhat limited wine-drinking knowledge. He's never strayed further than Tesco's own label, which he ordinarily buys with the goal of downing fast and getting shit faced, so it's not like he knows which ones actually taste nice. Beer and even liquor are more his forte. He must have looked well and truly befuddled whilst staring at the bottles in the supermarket aisle, as a nice young lady in a crisp white shirt and a shiny name tag comes over to offer her assistance. They decide on a bottle of Pinot Grigio that she promises him is "delicate yet sharp without being tart" to which Marcus nods and pretends he understands.

After scaling two flights of stairs (the bloody lift is still broken) Marcus presses the doorbell of flat 2b and poses with the bottle of wine held beside his face, plastering on a cheesy grin, ready to be the picture of innocence and gratitude when Ben opens the door. There's no way he could turn that away. Not that Marcus thinks he would, what with them being friends and all, but he's just making sure.

Ben raises an eyebrow and leans against the door frame, unconcerned. "So you do know how to use a doorbell, then."

Marcus sighs, drops his facade and the bottle of wine down to his side - goddamn this angelic bastard - but a smile that seems to have a life of its own breaks out across his face, regardless. God, Ben really is beautiful, and he seems to be radiating the smell of butter and sugar and spice and all things nice to boot. That, coupled with his kind eyes, inevitably turns Marcus' insides into a molten mess, which is something he really should've been able to predict.

"Would you prefer I send a carrier pigeon through the window to announce my arrival?" Marcus asks solemnly. "Or a marching band? Because that can be arranged. I know people."

Ben grins. "No, no. I just thought picking locks was more your style."

"You're never going to let me live that one down are you?"

"No way in hell." Ben chuckles. He leans his head back against the door frame, exposing the skin of his neck that is far too unblemished for Marcus' liking. Ben's eyes narrow. "And how would you get a marching band through my window, anyway? That sounds like a logistical nightmare. All those trumpets and french horns."

Marcus ignores, quite gallantly in his opinion, all the horn based innuendos that instantly pop into his head. "Well if you'd have let me finish attempting to get to my flat through it then I'd know, wouldn't I?"

"Nice." Ben nods, that adorable look of disbelief on his face again. "I like how you turned that one around on me."

Marcus shrugs indifferently. "I tell the truth."

"You can do no wrong, can you?"

"I'm practically Jesus."

"Right." Ben laughs. He straightens, and Marcus doesn't know if he imagines Ben's stupid eyes dart down to his lips - just for a millisecond - as he shifts his weight, or if Marcus' fucking feelings for this guy are making him see things that aren't there. Either way, Ben's voice is a lot softer when he speaks again and he's giving that wonderful little half smile that Marcus can't get out of his head. "Plain old doorbell it is."

"Hmm," Marcus agrees, equally as gently. The warmth in his stomach bubbles mildly. "How boring."

They pause, simply looking at one another, content smiles on their faces. They seem to take each other in, acknowledge and appreciate the existence of the other, in the comfortable silence that lingers for a few moments. Marcus can feel his heart trying to tunnel its way out of his increasingly flushed chest.

Suddenly, he can't remember any of the conversation he had with Ted. He knows he made a decision to do something (whilst scrubbing quickly congealing rings of jam from Ted's kitchen table), but that thought has helpfully decided to be elusive right now. He definitely resolved to do something with this whole I fancy the pants off a taken guy debacle. Ultimately, Ted wasn't happy with him, that he can remember, so changes must be made. Or maybe he concluded to not do anything at all, now he thinks about it. All Marcus knows for certain is that the heat in his middle is creating smoke in his brain and if he's being honest with himself, all that really matters is the here and the now, in this doorway with Ben and his horribly unmarred skin.

Fuck what Ted thought. It probably wasn't important anyway. What could be more important than being right here, on this day, at this very moment?

Ben clears his throat and gives a minute shake of his head. Marcus wouldn't have picked up on it if his senses weren't so primed on him.

"So did you want something? Or are you delivering bottles of wine to everyone on the second floor?" Ben smiles easily. "Let me guess - It used to be water."

"Ah, no." Marcus smiles at the wine in his hand. If he looks at Ben smirking at his own joke for any longer he may just discover his inner vampire and lunge for his throat. "I'm not that good, I'm afraid. Marching bands through windows I can do, but water into wine? Haven't practised that one so much."

"Shame. Let me know when you perfect it."

Marcus holds the bottle out between them. "I got this for you."

Ben looks at it through narrowed eyes.

"You got me wine?" He asks slowly, apprehensively.

It takes a few seconds of them both staring incomprehensibly at the other, a vastly different kind of stare than before, until the penny drops.

Ben thinks Marcus is making a move on him.

And, yes, okay, Marcus admits that, with how he was behaving before, it's not too ostentatious an assumption. And even if Ben did ask him to leave it just that morning, Marcus supposes it still wouldn't be so out of character for him to just press a little bit further, test the waters a tiny bit longer.

Despite all that, the way Ben is so suddenly on guard at the mere thought hurts. He's not so bad, is he? Taken or not, is it really that horrible to have him flirting?

With half of him feeling sorry for himself, and the other half worrying when he became so conscious of his flirting skills and other people's fucking opinions of them, Marcus can't help the small, self-deprecating laugh that slips between his lips. "Don't worry, sunshine. It's for you and your guy. To say thanks for letting me stay last night. And for not hitting me with your frying pan and calling the police."

The tension in Ben's shoulders visibly lessens as he smiles, which is as good as throwing a bucket of ice water onto Marcus' melted insides, solidifying them into heavy lead and bringing him back to reality.

"You know. Like friends do." Marcus can't help but add, biting back the urge to yell you kissed me back, dickhead!

"Yeah. Right. Friends." Ben replies, a little too brightly, and wraps his fingers around the neck of the bottle. "Thanks. That's great."

Marcus shrugs stiffly. "Least I can do."

Ben nods and looks to the label of the bottle, running his thumb over it and reading. The angle of his stooped head now means that Marcus can appreciate his small, straight nose and it's dusting of pale freckles in all their glory. He might as well be biting his lip and sighing like an infatuated teenager for how obvious his pining must be. Marcus also now notices how the ends of Ben's eyelashes, just where they attach themselves to his eyelids, are a gleaming golden blonde colour. Fuck, this guy must be the son of a fucking God. And to think he'd been just one floor down for so long. All the times Ben could've been sat studying a recipe book with a cup of tea, or sweeping up crumbs from the kitchen floor - fresh from the batch of scones he just made, of course - or tutting at the loud music coming from one of Marcus' parties above him, and Marcus was completely non the wiser. It was a cruel trick of fate that decided they wouldn't cross paths before now.

Fuck what Ted thought, fuck it all to hell. There's something here and Marcus'll be damned if he lets this slip through his fingers.

When an ambulance siren sounds outside and bounces off the plastered walls of the hallway, Marcus notices the silence they're in. The dead silence. The kind that you daren't so much as breathe in; the awkward type.

Oh, God. He's stood alone with Ben, and it's awkward.

They've been quiet for too long and Marcus is pretty sure he still has that dopey little fucking smile on his face that always seems to be there when he's in Ben's company. He shoves his hands in his pockets to stop them from fidgeting and drawing attention to himself.

Ben glances up, gives a little smile (which is just so Ben) and goes back to reading the label. This only makes Marcus more worried because there's no way that there's enough information on it to take this long to get through, which means Ben's re-reading it so that he doesn't have to actually say anything, meaning that they've run out of things to talk about and, Oh God, Ben thought he was making a move on him.

Marcus should've just left it. He should've taken last night for the one off that it was and gone on to plainly coexist with this wonderful man. He should've forgotten about repaying him, accepted it as a simple act of kindness from one neighbour to another, and sealed the most perfect kiss he's ever had between planes of glass to be kept in his memory for a rainy day or a lonely night.

Ben finally looks up and takes a deep breath, his eyes jumping back and forth between Marcus' as he looks to gear himself up to say something. His fingers have turned white where they're clutching onto the bottle and Marcus can feel his heart pounding in his ribcage.

Suddenly, Ben exhales and shakes his head at Marcus through a sheepish smile, blurting out "I'm sorry."

Marcus' eyebrows jump up. What?

"For what?"

Ben motions vaguely with the bottle. "I assumed you were... uh..."

"Flirting," Marcus fills in with an embarrassed chuckle of his own. Might as well get it out there. "No, I know, it's alright-"

"No, I shouldn't have thought-"

"It's fine, I get it-"

"It wasn't fair of me to-... I just assumed-"

"Ben, it's fine-"

"After this morning and everything-"

"Yeah, I know, don't worry about it-"

"I shouldn't have done that, really-"

"It's understandable-"

"Just with everything that's happened..."

"Yeah, I know-"

"And, I mean, I did ask you to leave it, so..."

"Yeah."

"I was just a bit unsure what you were doing there for a second, that's all."

"It's okay."

"Not that I think you would... uh, after I asked you not to-"

"I-"

"I know you'd never do that." Ben says confidently, almost sharply, stopping them rambling over one another.

He's looking up at Marcus like he really believes it, trusts that Marcus wouldn't go against his words. But his eyes are begging him, pleading with him to accept this, saying I'm sorry and please just leave this and I don't want to fall out here. He needs it to be true that Marcus won't push. And Marcus wants to. He really does want to leave it and be friends with this guy because surely it would be better to have him as a friend than not at all. Not to mention it's the right fucking thing to do.

However, there's still that stubborn little malicious section of his brain that won't allow himself to give Ben up. It's sitting on his shoulder and whispering in his ear, convincing him that he needs this, that things won't be okay if you let him be the one that got away and why are cutting you're own arm off, arsehole? That's bad for us.

"Well," Marcus says lightly, almost under his breath like there's any chance he'll get away with it. "Never say never."

Ben's easy going look goes unmistakably strained, and his left cheek sucks in from where he must be biting it on the inside.

"In this case?" He says harshly, setting his shoulders and looking Marcus dead in the eye. "Never."

Ouch.

"You can think about it if you want." He mutters, sarcastic but hurt all the same.

"Marcus," Ben sighs, "I'm not going to have this conversation with you again, okay?"

Marcus looks to him and if he thought Ben's eyes were pleading before, they're nothing compared to how they look now, and Marcus is suddenly torn.

On the one hand, Ben looks so worried. No matter how much he's tried to cover it up with putting his foot down, the discomfort in his expression is obvious. Marcus feels something drop in his stomach at the sight of it. Part of Marcus' brain is saying stop, you've upset him, you wanker! Just leave it so he can smile again! It's making him want to do anything to get that distressed look off Ben's face, including turning on his heel, taking off down the hallway and never seeing him again.

Alternatively, that very same pleading look is telling Marcus that Ben knows there's something here to fight for. That he's trying to get Marcus to agree with what he says because he's trying to convince himself of it, too. If Marcus says he'll leave it, that they shouldn't be doing this, then Ben has no choice but to believe it. He also gets conformation that his relationship with Oliver is obviously a wonderful one. Why would Marcus want to come between them if it were? Consequently, he then has no reason to take the plunge and leave Oliver.

Then again, there's always the possibility that Marcus has interpreted everything completely wrong and Ben just wants him gone.

Bloody hell.

And so Marcus is torn, and simply stands there with his mouth hung open as Ben stares him down, all defiance and I'm not going to have this conversation with you again.

When it becomes apparent that Marcus' powers of speech have abandoned him, Ben glances down the hall and exhales softly.

"Well," he says, turning back to Marcus, his demeanour back to bone-meltingly friendly as he holds up the wine bottle. Marcus wonders if Ben has ever read Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. "I should get this in the fridge."

"Right, yeah." Marcus manages to squeeze out.

"You could come in for a bit. If you want. I mean, Oliver's due home soon, but..."

Despite possibly having whiplash from the change in tone, Marcus feels his chest lift a little.

He should say no. Ben's just being polite, that's all. This is for him to refuse and be courteous, to respect Ben's wishes so they can both come out of it looking like decent people. But Ben's smiling again. And Marcus still has that unsatisfied feeling of having unfinished business clinging to him like poisoned ivy grows on a building.

"Sure."

If this wasn't the reply that Ben wanted, he doesn't show it. He just stands aside for Marcus to come through.

Ben's home is just as welcoming as before, perhaps more so with what look like recipe books and hand written notes spread out on the coffee table, and re-runs of That 70's Show playing on the small tv in the corner.

Marcus somehow feels out of place, big and bulky in amongst the warm flat. He feels like an intruder, and isn't that just fucking ironic. When breaking in, he felt very little remorse, but, now, when he's been invited in, saying he's uncomfortable doesn't do it justice. He's still caught in that quandary of knowing he shouldn't be here but wanting to stay with all his might, and his feet can't seem to stay still because of it.

As Ben makes his way to the fridge, Marcus watches and tries to work out what the fuck is happening. He needs to do something to get this twitchy feeling out of his bones. Where do they stand now? If he had actually wanted Marcus to leave he wouldn't have let him come in, surely, even out of politeness. He would've kicked him out on his arse. Is Ben actually giving the mixed messages Marcus thinks he is? Or is this all in his head?

It's then that Marcus realises he fucking hates subtext.

He might as well try and sort this out now. The tension and instability of it all will only torment him until he does. Patience has never even come close to being his middle name. And he knows Ben isn't as sure about this as he keeps saying.

He fucking hopes to God he's right.

"I'm confused." Marcus says.

Ben takes his hand off the handle on the fridge door and turns to him. His eyebrows have gone up his forehead and he looks intrigued, but that doesn't cover the underlying resistance that tells Marcus he knows what's going on here.

Deep breath.

"I'm confused because I don't know how you can just let this lie. There is something between us, Ben. Something... noticeable. That's the only way to put it. I don't know what it is, or how this might work out, or even if it's fucking worth it, but it's something. Something that could work. I'm sorry to do this again, I am, but... I can't just let that go."

Ben sighs and puts the bottle of wine down on the counter next to the fridge with a heavy thunk. Marcus carries on before Ben has a chance to cut in with arguments he's already heard.

"I know that it's ludicrous, okay? I know that. But it's not everyday that I break into flats, you know." That gets a smile out of Ben, "But I did last night. And of all the people in London, it happened to be yours. On the night your boyfriend was still out. And you decided to let me stay." Marcus starts to take small steps closer to him, like someone trying to get close to a wild animal. "Who does that? Who lets a stranger that picks the lock on their front door kip on their sofa? That's crazy. But you did. You didn't even think of turning me away, did you?" When Ben only gives a small smile and rubs tense fingers over his forehead, Marcus prompts. "Did you?"

Ben leans back against the counter. Marcus hopes that was the fight draining out of him. "No, I didn't. You're my neighbour-"

"You didn't know that." Marcus continues. "I had no way to prove it. I could've been anyone. I could've pissed off with your most prized possessions in the middle of the night."

"Marcus, that's-"

"Don't stand there and tell me you can't feel it, that you didn't let me stay last night because there was something about me that you couldn't refuse." As he comes to stand in front of Ben, Marcus' stomach is in knots. This feels like the ballsiest thing he's ever done. "I don't wanna say it's fate, but..."

Ben's nerve breaks and his gaze slides to the floor. Marcus thinks that may be a good thing, that he doesn't want Marcus to see what he's thinking. He seems less tense than he was out in the hallway. Marcus hopes that's because of his words and not just because of the comfort of being inside his own home.

In a bold move, and because Marcus has always been an all or nothing kind of guy, he braces his left hand on the surface next to Ben's hip and gently takes Ben's chin between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. Now Marcus never thought he would be soppy enough to say things like "I saw galaxies in his eyes", but when Ben lets him tilt his chin so they're looking at each other, his breath is taken from him.

"Even right now." Marcus says softly, leaving only a small gap between their bodies. "Don't pretend you don't feel... something... between us, right now."

Ben's fingers are gripping tightly onto the side of the counter and his chest is rising and falling quickly but his eyes, oh god, his eyes are almost glowing, mirroring everything that Marcus is feeling. This is why Marcus can't let go. This look says I want you too. And even if he does look a little worried, the deer caught in headlights again, all that makes Marcus want to do is kiss all the concern away.

Fuck, Marcus wants him.

"I don't think I've ever clicked with someone like this." Marcus says as he softly runs his thumb along the edge of Ben's bottom lip and feels him give a little sigh against it. "We just... fit. Please don't fight it."

Gingerly, Marcus moves his hand from the edge of the counter and places it on Ben's hip. It fits just as perfectly as before. For all the trepidation in Ben's eyes, he doesn't push him away. He doesn't exactly move in to Marcus either, but he doesn't push him away, which has to count for something.

"Marcus, I...", Ben starts, but his words quickly die in his throat. After a tense moment, he gives a little breathless laugh instead. "God, I hate you."

Marcus smiles back and takes the tiniest of steps closer. "Yeah, I kind of hate me too, right now. But you know I'm right."

Gingerly, Ben's hand comes to rest on the forearm Marcus has against his hip. Marcus' heart does something close to a somersault.

Marcus dips his head, brushing his nose against Ben's cheek and letting their mouths hover in front of one another. It feels like there's a magnetic pull bringing them ever so slowly closer and closer together. Marcus much prefers this version of Ben, the soft, willing version that makes them feel like two pieces of a puzzle finally fitting together. Not to mention that being this close to him but not actually kissing is, strangely, erotic as fuck.

Ben's eyes have fallen shut. Marcus can just see the ends of his eyelashes resting on his cheeks as he places their foreheads together. God, Marcus feels like he's burning up. Ben's grip tightens on his arm as he tilts his face up ever so slightly. Their lips must only be a millimetre apart now, and Marcus is sure Ben's pulse is thudding as fast as his own. He can almost taste it.

Three sudden, loud pounds on the door makes Ben's head snap up.

"Babe, it's me! I forgot my keys!"

Marcus' blood runs cold and he glares over his shoulder at the door. Bloody fucking Oliver! Marcus had him! Just a couple more blissful seconds and they would have been lip locked!

Ben quickly pushes past him, out of Marcus' embrace, and takes a deep breath, running his hands through his hair and pulling on it. For the second time in two days, Marcus is left to rearrange himself as adrenaline rushes through him.

"Look," Ben says quickly and quietly, whipping around to face him, and with more venom than Marcus ever thought he was capable of, "I've already admitted that I feel something for you, okay, so I'm not going to do it again. But Marcus, and I need you to listen to me now, okay? I mean really listen. Whatever stupid little crushes we have somehow developed on one another, within less than twenty-four hours of knowing each other, don't even come into the question. Words can't describe how obsolete it is. It means nothing. Because I know that in the bigger picture I am meant to be with him," He points one sure finger at the door, "alright? I'm with him and I'm staying with him because he's my soul mate, and, yes, you're handsome and you're funny and you're interesting, but I love Oliver and I'm with Oliver and you can never be Oliver. Got it?"

Marcus opens his mouth to protest but it feels like someone has their hands clasped tightly around his throat.

Oliver knocks on the door again. "Ben? You there?"

Ben takes one, deep, composing breath as Marcus blinks gormlessly at him. The world stands still. Marcus is pretty sure even the clock has stopped ticking by, holding its breath.

Marcus wishes his brain hadn't seemed to have short-circuited, simply showing him the same error message over and over, so he could grab Ben by the shoulders and eloquently persuade him to pretend he's not in the flat so Oliver will go and find a cafe or something to occupy himself with. They still have more talking to do, this isn't how this is supposed to end. What he wouldn't give to click his fingers and transport Oliver far, far, far away. But Marcus' shell shocked body can conjure no words, and Ben's opening the front door before Marcus even has the chance to will the colour back into his face.

"If I had a penny for every time you forgot your keys, I'd be a very rich man." Ben smiles easily.

"Well hello to you to."

Marcus drags in a deep breath to try and will some feeling back into his body. He can only hope he doesn't look as dumbfounded as he feels as Oliver walks in and spots him.

"Back again?"

"Marcus was actually just about to leave." Ben supplies, "He brought a bottle of wine for us."

"Oh, that was nice of you." Oliver smiles at him.

Marcus feels a pressure build in his chest, getting the urge to snatch the bottle off the counter next to him and run out the door lest he does anything to give this suited oaf of a man something to be happy about.

"You were kind enough to help me out so..." He rushes, "Just something to say thanks."

His head is throbbing and he shoves his hands in his pockets so Oliver won't see how they're shaking. His throat is still absurdly tight and his chest feels like its cracking, caving in to him.

'I'm with Oliver and you can never be Oliver.'

Act normal, he thinks, just act normal.

"I'm more into beer myself but you seem like wine sort of people, so I hope it's okay."

"I'm sure it will be." Ben says, short and with an air of finality, though the smile on his face stays strongly where it is.

Marcus finds his eyes and sees the hard edge in them, the solid set to his jaw. He thinks that may have been his cue to go.

"Ben's a beer person, too." Oliver says.

"Oh, really?" Marcus smirks, although this bit of trivia seems bittersweet after all the words Ben just snarled at him. "Great minds think alike, ey?"

The suggestive tone goes (thankfully) over Oliver's oblivious head, but Ben's smile disappears instantly.

Marcus decides that, yes, now is the time to take his leave before he steps over the line, if he miraculously hasn't already. Although of course there is a part of Marcus that wants one of them to slip up and for Oliver to cotton on to the sexual tension between his boyfriend and another man, he also doubts that Ben would appreciate that. He thinks he's probably so far into Ben's bad side at the moment that one more inch would lead him to fall over the edge and down into the abyss of never-to-be-spoken-to-again territory. That's the last thing he wants.

He says his goodbyes and, with one final, desperate pleading look to Ben, who looks steadily back at him, he steps out of the flat and into the corridor. The door is shut behind him with more force than he thinks is necessary.

With a weight in his chest and a frown on his face, Marcus heads for the stairs.

#I cant believe this is finally done #mumfic #bencus

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rpchive · 6 years ago

Text

105th Encounter-- Thread The Needle

welcome to Lob Corp fuckos

Nydins, Rio, Jay, and Maya are all gathered in the console room; Jay and Maya just sort of discussing casually. Collin steps out into the console room somewhat nervously as he notices the crowd. He has changed into a long deep blue cloak that cuts off right at the knees, with a creamy yellow trim around the wrists, collar, and hem of the cloak. The trim at the bottom sweeps up along the inverted v-cut of the cloak and forms a star pattern at the apex. A red gemstone button holds each sleeve and collar closed, while a simple zipper closes the front of the cloak. Under that he now wears a dark pair of pants with leather boots that are tucked underneath the legs.

Collin: Oh, uh... hey? Maya: Whoa, you changed clothes again! You guys have another party to get to or somethin'?

Rio swivels her chair around to look at Collin's outfit. "...Aww, he's got a little star thingy like Jay now! Is that our thing now? We should totally put those on the comms."

alienrabitt: Where'd you even get that? Well, I guess the IT made it, huh...? ...You look good. Collin turns slightly red and scratches the back of his head. "W-Well, it certainly beats the old jumpsuit, huh?"

idk where the actual drawing went but

something fresh for once!

can I say I’m actually midkey a huge fan of the trope of characters going through Some Shit and them changing their design after?

Maya: Anything probably feels better than that...I ditched my armband as soon as I got on this ship. The suits, not so much, but those are all mine anyway. Collin: Don't blame you there. So uh, what were you guys talking about? Maya: Not much. I haven't heard about anything going on in a while...guessing the trouble's waiting for us somewhere for once. Collin: Works for me. I would've been in a bad way if something had happened while I was still trying to recover. Rio: How are you now, anyway? Collin: I'm... better, physically at least. In terms of my magic, well... The good news is that I still have magic. I definitely can't channel any of the powers from the pantheon like I used to, but I can still do some things. I haven't really been able to test it all out too well since I haven't really been able to do much of anything until recently, though. I'm thinking I'm gonna need to make something that can help me use my magic more easily, but I haven't figured out what yet. Maya: Well hey, if you need any help, let me know. I don't know anything about magic, but I know plenty about building stuff that harnesses energy, so that can't be too different. Collin: Hopefully you're right. It'd be nice to have some help with that, since I'm not really sure what I'm doing. Clair comes into the console room briefly, though upon seeing the small crowd gathered there, she considers going back down the hall. She stands in the hallway, visibly debating how badly she wants whatever she's come for. Collin: Oh, hey Clair. Need something? Clair: I, uhh...I kinda...I know that the Operation is totally empty now, and I know that Zenith's...but Alzedeth's still out there...even if he still doesn't have a soul, as long as he's in that armor...we should...we should do something... Collin: ... Shit, I guess you're right. I'd sort of forgotten about him with everything else that's been happening recently. Maya: The way you looked when they dragged you back in, I don't blame you. Even I heard about that one...

Nydins: Alright, don't beat a dead horse; I'll take us back to OZ. Daedalus approaches the group from behind Clair, stopping a few feet behind her. "Ah, there you are. I checked your room but you were already... Wow, big group. Something going on?" Clair: ...I have to find Alzedeth. I can't just leave him like that... Daedalus: ... Yikes. Always heavy stuff, isn't it? Nydins: Hey; we wouldn't be superheroes if we got vacation days. ...Though I do like the little quiet gaps... Daedalus: Pretty sure constant danger does not a long life make. Whatever, I'm coming with you. Nydins: Guess we were closer than I thought. Looks like we're gonna touch down soon. Good luck out there... Daedalus: Sheesh, good thing I was right behind you guys. I swear it's like you're trying to leave me out or somethin'. Nydins: Sorry; I wasn't really expecting a field trip. But something like this should be easy enough, right? I mean, all you have to do is break the armor...

Maya: Jeez, sound like you care less, why don't you? It's still her brother, right?

Nydins: The divide between body and soul's hardly controversial. This is just clean up; I don't see why you of all people are getting invested... Collin: Nydins, this really isn't the time or place for an argument like this... Nydins: R-right...well, uhh, we're here, so...! Good luck...!

Rolling her eyes, Maya heads out the door, Clair nervously following behind her. Collin, Jay, and Daedalus follow them out. The layout of OZ remains as silent and emptied as ever, however the hallway leading towards Alzedeth's chamber seems to be covered in signs of some sort of struggle. Upon reaching the room itself, the group finds the floor littered with corpses, all of which in black suits with red ties and armbands of varying colors and letters on them. A hole has been blasted in the opposite wall, and the distant sound of a nearby airship can be heard.

Maya: I-it's Lobotomy! Why the hell are they here?! Daedalus: I'm gonna hazard a guess and say "the spooky suit of living armor". If those assholes want their hands on him, that can't mean anything good. Maya: But abnormalities have to be reported! They're taken in because they pose a threat to humanity itself! ...Some bastard from here must've been recruited when the place went to shit...damn it, we need to get on that airship!! Collin: But how do we sneak into something that's up in the air? Clair: They can't have taken off with me here. Alzedeth still only responds to me; he knows I've come to find him, so he'll try to get to me at all costs. We have to find where they're parked and board them! Daedalus: Alright, well let's go see what we're dealing with first. Hopefully they're still on the ground. The group heads off further into OZ, where they find a massive airship nearly the size of an entire floor hovering beside one of the fire escapes. Without hesitation, Maya jumps the gap between the fire escape and the rope ladder extending up to the doorway onto the ship, Clair hesitantly following behind her. Jay, however, seems significantly more cautious about the endeavor, and instead shifts to his original true form, waiting to see if Collin or Daedalus would rather ride up. Daedalus: Hey, listen, I appreciate the offer, but maybe turning into a giant star monster around a ship full of people specifically interested in capturing strange creatures isn't the best strategy... Snorting, Jay shifts back to his humanoid form. "If my arm gives out when I climb up this thing, don't blame me when I knock you off...though, uhh... you two should go first because of that..." Collin: No no, no one is falling to their death today. If flying up there gets you there safely, then do it. I'll come with you, just be careful about it. alienrabitt: ...Alright.

Jay shifts back once more as he waits for Collin. Collin climbs onto Jay and holds on tightly, while Daedalus hops over and climbs the ladder with Maya and Clair. Careful to keep his distance from the ladder, Jay waits until everyone else has boarded the ship before coming closer. The beating of his wings blows the ladder around quite a bit as he approaches, however he grabs it with his arms, steadying it properly for Collin. Collin quickly climbs over onto the ship and turns back around to help Jay on if he needs it. Shifting back to his humanoid form, Jay accepts the help onto the ship, letting out a sigh of relief as he touches the floor. "I hate heights so much..." Daedalus: Says the person who can fly. alienrabitt: Hey, I didn't ask for the wings! Or...most of this, really... Collin: It's alright, let's just get away from this ladder; the height isn't doing me any favors either. Do you know where we should be going, Maya? Maya: I don't...unless there's a Sephirah here, I have no idea where he could be... Daedalus: What about you, Clair? You said he'd try to get to you no matter what, right? How does he know where you are? Clair: He...I...th-that's something I don't want to talk about in a situation like this...

Maya: Can you just tell him to come to us?

Clair: He's trying; but he's got an entire ship's worth of people to mow through!

Maya: Don't do that! The majority of the personnel sent on these missions are fresh recruits; they have no idea what Lobotomy is! Call him off!

Clair: B-but if I do that, the ship will leave...!

Maya: And then we'll know where he is, because they'll have to unload him, and there will be Sephirahs! Collin: Please trust us. We're not gonna let Lobotomy take him away. Clair: ...What do we do in the meantime? Just...hide?

Azreldeh: Why not? I did that all the way here.

Azreldeh’s just this but in reverse

alienrabitt: STOP THAT!! I hate it when you do that!!

Azreldeh: Sorry! I would've said something sooner, but you guys kept complaining about your little issue, so I had to make a field trip. Anyway, you really wanna check this ship out before it sails? Collin: We're gonna have to if we're going to find Alzedeth, right? Azreldeh: Ohh, I was hoping you'd say that.

Snapping her fingers, Azreldeh summons forth Rio from the shadows, catching her by her arms as she tumbles from the shifted position and nearly falls off the ship. "Hey, R2; I'm gonna have to ask you for a favor real quick..."

Rio: I-I-I really don't wanna hear those words from you!! B-but, in my current situation, I really can't say no!!

Azreldeh: Oh, you couldn't have even if you wanted to...ugh, sorry, I'm getting into this like a job.

Smoothly, Azreldeh pulls Rio up into the ship properly, placing her hands upon Rio's shaking shoulders.

"...Right, so two things, I need you to find the loading dock, and I need you to check for Sephirahs."

Rio: B-but I'm not a part of their systems...! I can't do anything with technology that's not integrated into me...!

Azreldeh: Oh come on, how unique can Earth tech get?! You've gotta be able to do something here...!

Rio: ...I...can probably find one of those things, at least, but there's no way I could do both...

Azreldeh: ...What the hell are these Sephirahs anyway?

Maya: They're basically the core of Lobotomy; though I doubt any but Angela would be able to get very far away from anywhere the Corporation was stationed...

Azreldeh: Okay, but what are they? Humans?

Maya: I'd argue closer to androids, but more human than machine...it's uncanny...

alienrabitt: It's uncomfortable is what it sounds like. And what the hell were you thinking pulling Rio up like that?!

Azreldeh: What, and just let her fall? Collin: You know damn good and well what he meant. You can't just pull her into something like this and then immediately put her in danger! Azreldeh: Which is why I'm asking her to do something safe!

Clair: The task isn't the problem...

Azreldeh: Look, we aren't making any progress just standing around here arguing; c'mon! Let's get out there and kick some ass already!

Maya: Absolutely not! We aren't fighting /or/ killing /anybody/! This is a stealth mission!

Azreldeh: My favorite! Alright, so you and I can walk on in there, and...I guess everyone else will just have to hide or something...

Maya: ...They could pass as new, but Jay's gonna have to hide.

alienrabitt: I...yeah, okay. I guess I could just...be small or something. One of you has pockets, right? Collin: I've got space. Will you be alright like that? alienrabitt: It's less magic intensive; so I'd be better than I am now, honestly.

With that, Jay shifts into his bat form.

Clair: So cute...! Collin: He's always cute.

He opens a pocket on his cloak and holds it out for him to fly inside.

Flying up, Jay crawls into the pocket, his face barely poking out of the top as he squints up at Collin.

c-cute......

Azreldeh: Right, well, somebody should go with Rio just in case she gets caught; the rest of us can keep looking out here. If you find what you're looking for, turn the lights in the room off; I'll come right to you.

Rio: O-okay...just don't throw me or anything...

Azreldeh: Hey, not my fault nobody moved away from the door...

Maya's group heads off towards the right, leaving Rio and Collin with the hallway across from the door. Collin: Alright, so I guess we just... pretend like we know what we're doing? Rio: I think the goal at this point is just...try not to be noticed, and find a way to find out what Azreldeh was asking for...but I don't even know where to start with that... Collin: Are we looking for the loading bay or those... "sephirah" things Maya kept mentioning? Rio: She wanted us to find the location of both; but I'm not sure we could find those in an airship...even one this big probably doesn't have some sort of map; humans wouldn't need those kinds of things on a ship... Collin: Well, if I had to guess, it'd make sense for a loading area to be somewhere near the bottom of a ship, right? Rio: Yeah! Typically, for older human ships, they'd be at the lower or middle section of the backmost part of the ship. ...Though I guess they'd be modern ships for you, huh? Collin: What, you callin' me old or something? /He gives Rio a jokingly insulted look. Rio: I mean, you were originally...born? In the 70s, right? Physically, you might not be, but chronologically, by human standards... Collin: I was just joking, don't worry about it. I'm fully aware I'm technically the grandpa of the IT crew. Anyway, why don't we just head that direction and see what we find. Who knows, maybe one of those Sephirahs will be down there too? Rio: Um, alright...but don't you think a lot of people will be there? Alzedeth doesn't strike me as something that's easy to contain... Collin: I... guess? I'm open to ideas, did you have some other plan in mind? Rio: Well, if Lobotomy's half as observational as Maya makes them seem, I'd bet they have a security room even on their airship that's bound to have eyes all over the place. But if you'd rather not be in a place like that, I'd understand... Collin: No no, it's fine. I just wasn't really thinking about there being a place like that. Can you figure out where that is somehow? Rio: Not without being able to access parts of the ship; but modern human technology is so laughably primative in comparison, I'd have better luck trying to hijack the cameras remotely. Collin: Is that... safe? Surely they'd have security systems or something to stop that sort of thing. Rio: Well, it's either that or we just do this the old fashioned way and hope we find the room we're looking for by chance and guesswork...unless something can scan the ship for places with profuse amounts of electronics. Collin: Well, I... don't really think I can help you there. I guess we don't have much of a choice then. Just be careful, alright? Nodding, Rio looks around for one of the cameras, carefully opening up the maintenance panel beneath it and plugging in a wire she retrieved from her sleeve. Her visor flickers varying colors briefly before settling back to her usual appearance as she disconnects and replaces the panel. "...I think I know where to go, but also, I think there's just one Sephirah on this ship...I don't think she noticed me, though. She seemed occupied; it looked like she was with Maya and the others...I guess they convinced her to help or something?" Collin: My gut says that's wishful thinking, but who knows? At any rate, you lead the way. Let's find what we're looking for before things start going sideways. [Meanwhile...]

Maya: Azreldeh; that's not just some employee, that's--!

Azreldeh: Hod, one of the Sephirahs; yeah, I got that. I'm kinda in her head right now...and her everything else. You weren't kidding about Lobotomy being a bad place...but the good news is that I know where we need to go now! Too bad nobody can tell the others... Daedalus: I'm sure they'll figure it out. So where do we need to go, then? Azreldeh: Well, it's pretty much straight down this hallway, but there's also a bunch of employees up ahead, and the amount of them that are both alive and still in Hod's division..is very small. Needless to say, she's really upset about this since she kinda has a councilor role back at Lobotomy...

Clair: Do you think anybody would recognize Maya?

Azreldeh: None of the employees on this ship, but Hod does. She feels...guilty. Scared. And...angry? But not at Maya...her feelings are really complicated, but I don't think she wants to work with Lobotomy anymore, which is great news for you guys, and fantastic news for me!

in the market for a new body or somethin’? I guess it would be less magic intensive...

Maya: Don't think you can just walk out of here with her...Sephirahs are the brains of Lobotomy; arguably in a literal sense. Her body would give out within minutes of her being outside of Lobotomy's territory.

Azreldeh: Yeah, yeah; whatever...shouldn't we be going somewhere or something? Daedalus: Always the bleeding heart, huh? Alright, let's get headed down there before things get any messier. The group heads further down the hall, which is very much bustling with employees scrambling to get from one half of the ship to the other. Several of them try and stop Azreldeh to ask Hod questions; "has anyone contacted Angela with the updated situation;" "do you know if the abnormality is secured;" "should we still be sending suppression groups to the abnormality's holding area;" all of these Azreldeh answers rather coolly in passing. After clearing the hallway, however, Hod seems visibly overwhelmed with enough anxiety for the both of them.

"...We really need to get out of here before this thing lands...if it gets where we're going, Angela will..."

Maya: ...She'll recognize me, and she'll try to kill us all. She might even try to destroy the entire ship before we even land if she finds out I'm here...

Clair: ...But nobody recognizes you besides Hod, right?

Azreldeh: You're right. We should be safe so long as she can't access the ship's cameras or Hod herself...but Hod still seems uneasy... Daedalus: So we just need to work fast then, right? Find Alzedeth, get the other guys, and bail. That's not a super long checklist. Azreldeh: Theoretically, yeah. I'd say we're about halfway there now...Maya, you should go find the others and tell them how to find us. All you need to do is get back to this hallway somehow, and Alzedeth will be at the end.

Maya: But won't that blow your cover?

Azreldeh: Not if I keep Hod with us. Now get going, will you? We need to be fast; I'm sure those guys won't notice another scrambling employee running through.

Mulling it over for a second, Maya turns around and heads back the other way to find Rio's group. Daedalus: So what are we supposed to do in the meantime? Azreldeh: We'll all meet up at Alzedeth; so the three of us should just keep moving. Daedalus: Easy enough. I was expecting a lot more insanity around here, honestly. Azreldeh: This won't get chaotic unless someone figures us out. We should be clear until Angela finds us...or unless, hopefully. Daedalus: Go with "unless". I'd prefer us all not dying horribly, thank you. Clair: ...This is such a mess...why did I even leave him behind after we cleared out OZ?

Azreldeh: What would you have to gain from lugging your brother's soulless body around in a suit of armor that's gonna trigger half the IT if they think about it for too long? Daedalus: Not to mention that you weren't really in a position to pack your things before we got you out of there. It was sort of unavoidable, really. Clair: But if I'd had Alzedeth, then maybe--...

Azreldeh: Nope, gonna stop you there; you won't get anywhere thinking like that. Zenith wouldn't have been better off with his soulless body hanging around. I mean, what the hell would he have done with it?

Clair: Lived!! We could've had his body out of the armor; we had the sword; we had Zenith; if we'd just done something, then Zenith wouldn't have had to die!

Azreldeh: And your mom would still be alive too; just full of speedwell poison and a little angrier than she was before she saw you all again. Maybe you'd still be human too, but then what? So you and Zenith /don't/ fight your mom; that means that Jay has to, right? Another kleivenn? How do you think that would've ended when she already had so many others...? Daedalus: Clair, I get it; it sucks to think that maybe if something had gone differently, things would've turned out better. But at some point, you have to understand that playing the "what if" game is only going to hurt you in the long run. Latching onto the past is what made Alzedeth in the first place. If you don't learn to let go, it's just going to make you do something you're going to regret. Trust me on that one. Clair goes bitterly silent as she looks for a response she can't quite articulate into words, accepting that glaring at the floor would be a better decision than speaking her mind. Daedalus sighs quietly. "I'm sorry. I know this isn't easy. Doesn't help that we're sort of on a time crunch either..." Clair: ...I just don't want to let him go like this... Daedalus: There's nothing left for him here. I think you know that at some level. This was always just sort of... delaying the inevitable. Clair: But it's not fair! He didn't even get a chance to have a life; now suddenly I'm probably immortal, most of my family is dead, and I just have to...to move on?! It's not that easy! Daedalus: I didn't say it was easy. Shit, you've arguably got it just as rough as the rest of us honestly, and a lot of it being so recent isn't gonna make it any easier to push through it. That doesn't mean you shouldn't start, though. I was a complete nutcase because I literally could not move on from Aperture. I don't want to see you go down that same road; that's why we're all on that dumb soda machine together. We're supposed to look out for each other... or some other sappy bullshit like that. Azreldeh: Part of your problem is that you're just kinda sitting on all that grief, too. Jay did that once and it literally brought Demo back from the dead in the worst way possible. If you're this haunted by "letting Zenith down," you know everything that led up to that will...quite /literally/ come back to get you, right? You need to let go; and coming here to stop Alzedeth's just the first big step to doing that.

Clair: ...I don't know if I should thank you, or if I should be fearing for whatever kind of life I have now...

Azreldeh: I get that a lot.

Clair honestly has a really good character despite her being 100% combatively useless

Daedalus: Hasn't been that bad so far, in my experience- Wait... How do you know about that, Azreldeh?

Azreldeh: Maya told me about a lot of stuff that happened on the IT when she got drunk one night. She always talks about either things she's afraid of or her family when she gets drunk, so she doesn't get drunk unless it's /reeeeeally/ late. Daedalus: That sounds..... fun? Azreldeh: I mean, most of you are asleep at 4 AM, so it was either that or watch somebody sleep...

Clair: There's...rooms dedicated to doing other things, y'know...

Azreldeh: ...Yeah, but it's not as fun without other people around. Daedalus: Go bug the robots. They don't need to sleep, right? Azreldeh: Oh yeah, Chessman 5000 and the Cowardly Little Toaster would be great company for a gal like me. Daedalus: C'mon, I'm sure Rio has a crazy wild side to 'er. Azreldeh: I don't wanna think about how intricate that walking circuit lasagna is. Jeez, what's taking those guys so long to catch up...?

god, Azreldeh has some good lines in this one, lmao

Rio, Collin, and Maya have managed to find a series of hallways that leads around the one filled with employees, and, coincidentally, the majority of the airship, though the final hall seems to let out near the end of the crowded hall. Maya: Ugh, we really didn't have the time for that kind of detour, but there's no way in hell you two could slip past all those Lobotomy bastards... Collin: Sorry about that. I wasn't really expecting something like this when we left the IT... Maya: It's fine; we just...seriously need to catch up with the others. Collin: Let's not burn any more time, then. The others are just down this hallway, right? Maya: Yeah. They wouldn't go in without us. Collin nods and heads down the hall with the rest of the group. The two groups finally converge at the end of the hallway, where a large, metal door is bolted shut and sealed with a multitude of curious and unrecognizable security measures. Daedalus: ... Sure looks inviting, huh? Just need a welcome mat and they're good to go. Maya: So all we have to do now is...break in, destroy Alzedeth, and escape. Seems...

Azreldeh: Dangerous. Maybe even stupid. We might be killed.

Maya: Just a standard day in Lobotomy, then! Let's break this thing down. You can get in, right?

Azreldeh: Of course I have clearance. Nobody else is even in there, so this should theoretically be the easiest part. But there's also a ton of cameras in there, and everyone will get suspicious if they go offline...

Rio: How long has the room been unoccupied?

Azreldeh: Looks like...roughly an hour?

Rio: I'll connect with the cameras and replay an edited loop of the footage until you're done. It'll look smooth until we need to be gone.

Azreldeh: Man, I didn't expect you to be so prepared for a break in! We should try to steal something cool the next time we go somewhere! Collin: Please don't be a bad influence. We're not wandering cat burglars... Azreldeh: Hmm, but this door's gonna make a ton of noise when it opens; that's gonna be kind of a problem...

Maya: Mmm...I don't have anything that could muffle it either... Collin: I... think I can do something about that? Hang on...

He steps up to the door and holds one hand out to hit, resting his other hand on the opposite forearm. He takes a deep breath and stares intently at the door, which then briefly flashes with a blue light. "Okay, that's not gonna hold long but it should do the trick." Nodding, Azreldeh turns to face the massive door, swiping her right hand from right to left, which causes the bolts to roll back and the door to slowly unlock and open.

"Alright, demolition's turn! Rio's got the cameras; Clair...can go in if she wants; you guys better act quick if you can't do that trick again, though, 'cause we'll need to lock it back when we leave!"

Clair: I...I can't. I can't watch it. I'll stay here... Daedalus: Don't really blame you. We'll get this over with as fast as we can. Azreldeh: Alright, I'll...not totally close the door behind you, but I'll at least block the view. Good luck! Collin, Daedalus, and Maya step inside through the doorway. Alzedeth stands alone in the center of the room, quiet and immobile as ever. He does not stir when approached, only patiently waiting for something to happen. His armor has been stained with the blood of others, presumably the Lobotomy employees that dragged him onto the ship, but beyond that, there are no signs of any changes from the previous encounter. Collin: Jesus...

Daedalus: Who would've thought something could be so damn terrifying without even having to move... Maya: He doesn't even have any weapons on his person...if he doesn't fight back, all we'd have to do is break the armor and tear out his body... Daedalus: You have such a way with words sometimes.

Maya, 100% desensitized to any and all bullshit: let’s fight this bitch

Collin: I could probably break off pieces with spells, but it's probably gonna take quite a few hits. Maya: ...This feels so wrong. He's just soulless, not dead, right? Is it really okay to just...do this? Daedalus: What else are we gonna do? We can try not to hurt the body inside, but how's Clair gonna react if we just walk out with her brother's old body? Maya: ...I guess you have a point. We're just killing something that's already dead, huh...? Alright, let's get this over with... Collin: Alright, everyone get ready. Let's see if he's gonna do anything if I try taking that armor apart...

He wrings out his hands for a moment and then quickly slings out a gray bolt of energy from his right hand. The projectile strikes the left shoulder of the suit, weakening the connecting pieces attaching it to the torso. Alzedeth recoils at the blow, reaching up towards the area he was struck, but does little more beyond holding it. Daedalus: ... Shockingly peaceful for a blood-soaked suit. Listen, should I just... do one clean stab through this thing and get it over with?

Clair probably told him not to fight back

Maya: I...think that's probably for the best, unfortunately. Daedalus: Alright. Collin, weaken that chest plate. I'll do the rest...

Collin nods solemnly and throws another bolt at Alzedeth's chest. While the spell travels through the air, a single spear of white-hot flame flares into being in Daedalus' hands. He charges after the bolt, and right after it hits, he drives the spear straight through the suit's chest. Alzedeth stumbles backwards, shakily reaching for the spear protruding from his chest before collapsing onto his back, his arms falling with him. Closing her eyes tightly, Maya shakes her head, takes a deep breath, and heads for the door, exhaling as she does so.

Maya: ...Never gets easier, does it...? Daedalus: I hope it never does...

His spear disappears, and he turns to follow her out, Collin close behind them. As the group exits, Azreldeh closes the door behind them. "Alright, it's over, Clair. Now we just need to get out of here..."

Rio: ...I don't think we're gonna make it... Collin: What? Why? Rio: ...There's another Sephirah on the ship...you said only Hod was here, but...

For the first time since the group has seen her, Hod finally breaks past Azreldeh's hold, if only to whimper out a singular name: "Angela..." Daedalus: Well, this has been fun, but I think it's time to run like hell, right guys? Maya: We need to get off this ship now!

Clair: B-but what about the Sephirah that Azreldeh's in? Won't she die?!

Azreldeh: ...Oh, absolutely; if Angela finds her after all we've done, she'll be dismantled for sure. ...Oh no, why do you know about this too...? Quit making me feel bad for you, ugh...! Daedalus: Ah hell, if she's dying either way then either take her or don't. We can't waste time standing around! Azreldeh: Ugh, fine...I'm gonna look like a baby goat after this; but we really don't have the time for options!

Leaving Hod, Azreldeh pulls Rio closer after she disconnects from the cameras. The power goes out in the entire hallway as a massive red circle appears beneath the entire group, a smaller circle appears beneath Azreldeh, with four even smaller circles containing varying runes and symbols within them gravitating around it. In a flash of light and a powerful gust of wind, the group is returned to the IT, Hod and all, though Hod's now dysfunctional body collapses to the floor of the console room with Azreldeh, whose horns have shrunken down to tiny, gray nubs.

Nydins: Wh--what the hell?! Couldn't you use the door?! And who is that?!

Azreldeh: No...no time...we gotta leave...we gotta leave now...don't care...where we go...just go...

S1: ow the edge

S2: all redo: electric boogaloo

S3: panic attacks to the max

S4: self destruction for self defense

Nervously, Nydins spins back around to face the console, sending the IT off to an unknown destination. Collin: Are you okay, Azreldeh? That seemed like... a lot. Azreldeh: I'll...live. You should be worried more about the robot, I couldn't help it... Collin: Crap, what are we gonna do about her? Do you know what it is that ties her to Lobotomy like that, Maya? Maya: I don't...something to do with the intricate make of her body, I'm sure; but only A and C knew about that; and I...didn't really get to talk to either of them.

Rio: ...Don't worry about it. We'll figure something out; just stay away from Lobotomy.

Maya: Oh, I fully intend to for the rest of my natural life; you don't need to tell me. Collin: Should we take her to XL's room for now? Maya: I guess so...Sephirahs aren't built like an average android or robot, though, and they aren't entirely human, either...I don't know if she'll be able to do anything; repairing Hod would need surgery and robotics...

Nydins: Good thing she can do both of those things. To a point... Daedalus: Well, I'll leave voiding her warranty in your hands. I'm... gonna go lie down for a little bit. Rio: ...I'm sorry you had to go through all that. If there was anything I could've done to help without getting somebody hurt, I would've. Daedalus: Bah, don't worry about it.

He waves a hand absently over his shoulder as he walks out of the console room.

Collin: Here, I'll get Hod over to the- wait a second... Jay, you can come out now. Crawling out of Collin's pocket, Jay glides a bit away before shifting back to normal.

"You couldn't have done anything anyway; all you could do was look through the cameras, right?"

Rio: ...R-right! I guess so...b-but if I could've helped, I...probably would've done more! Collin: You did fine, Rio. Honestly you kinda surprised me with that bit about manipulating the camera feed. I didn't think you were so sneaky. Rio: Well, I...had to be to get around Greenfinger sometimes...n-not like that matters now...

Maya: Okay, I get that you're nervous; but you're tripping all over yourself like a drunken prom date suddenly. What the hell got into you?

Azreldeh: ...You don't wanna know that... Collin: What is that supposed to mean? Azreldeh: L-listen, we were in a hurry, and...and you guys needed to leave where you were as quickly and safely as possible; so I just...did that. I took everybody with us. Well, everybody close... Collin: ... What did you do? Azreldeh: ...I...I know, this is gonna sound ridiculous after all the other stuff I'd done; but, I mean, that place was a nightmare; they weren't just gonna dismantle her, what I saw made me sick to my stomach. I couldn't leave her behind; not after seeing everything she'd gone through; not while knowing what would happen if I left her behind, but those things don't have human souls; they're too much like AIs; so I couldn't really...put her...anywhere...else? Collin: ... Oh god dammit. Azreldeh: Well, I wouldn't really say a god did it, but, thanks for the admiration...?

Maya: Admiration; you're lucky he's not trying to blast you back to hell!

Azreldeh: H-hey, look, you guys are all about protecting the innocent and stuff, right? This isn't hurting anybody, I mean, Rio's still there too; she's just...got a roommate. Collin stares straight through Azreldeh for several seconds as he tries to process her words, until finally he turns to Rio. "... Are you okay?" Rio: I'm fine! I just...wish she'd asked first, but there wasn't really time for it...b-but I'm okay! Hod isn't bad, she's just...very sad. But if we can help her, then I'm okay with doing this until she can go back to her real body. Collin: ... Alright. I'm sorry. And you...

He turns to Azreldeh and starts trying to say something, but the words catch in his throat as his thoughts smash together in a pile. He shakes his head, giving up, and turns to leave the console room. Curling her tail around herself uncomfortably, Azreldeh hides herself in her wings as she quietly mumbles: "...I really messed this up, huh?"

next time, we uhh...pop the top on fixing Hod, and some other stuff happens! I think

#[S4]

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miquerisxh-blog · 6 years ago

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WHY WE DON'T TAKE ADVICE PRODUCTIVELY AND HOW TO SOLVE THAT By Sana Gul Waseem The issue of giving/taking advice can get a bit tricky sometimes.Consider the following real-life scenarios: “This is difficult . I don’t know how I will do it any more”, I said to my husband after my 3rd cycle of chemotherapy. He replied,“You should thank Allah subḥānahu wa ta'āla (glorified and exalted be He) that this time chemo is not as bad as the one you took in 2014”. #Reaction: Directed angry looks at him and thought, “ he never understands me, it’s so easy for him to say that!” Excuse me sister/brother, your talking in the masjid is really loud and is distracting me and others from salah, please could you stop talking whilst in the masjid? #Reaction: Who do you think you are to tell me what I can or can’t do? I’ll talk if I want to, now leave me alone. A parent saying to the child, “You are not working hard enough, you need to study more, when I was your age…”. Child’ response, “You don’t understand anything that is going on in my life! Times have changed, okay! I have so much stress that you don’t even know about, life isn’t the same as it was back in the days, stop putting pressure on me.” #Reaction: An angry household full of parents complaining about ungrateful children, and children complaining about demanding parents. “Scolding (and spanking) the kids is not beneficial. Try to be patient and it will be better for them,” said a mother-in-law when she saw her daughter-in-law scolding the three-year-old child. #Reaction: Silently fuming : “They did the same and it worked with us, now they are advising us to do the opposite! I can raise MY children the way I want, who is she to get involved?” Now, look closely at each of those scenarios. The advice given actually seems fair, however, it was hard for me to take it. Have you ever been in similar situations where you know deep down that the advice is beneficial, but something stops you from accepting it? Our goal, as productive Muslims, is to make ourselves better than what we were yesterday. Well-meaning advice is actually a part of the beneficial provision that Allah subḥānahu wa ta'āla (glorified and exalted be He) has ordained for us. Allah subḥānahu wa ta'āla (glorified and exalted be He) says, “…so give good tidings to My servants. Who listen to speech and follow the best of it. Those are the ones Allah has guided, and those are people of understanding.” [Qur’an: Chapter 39 , Verse 17-18] We need to ask ourselves: what are the reasons we find it difficult to accept advice? Do we see ourselves as better than others? Or do people give advice in a really frustrating way that we end up overlooking what they say because of how they said it? Let us discuss the reasons why it might be hard for us to take advice, and discuss means to resolve that. 🌷 Reason #1: ARROGANCE The “I am better than you” syndrome we might sadly suffer from. Taking advice feels like admitting that we don’t really deserve our high status. The dangerous part here is thinking that we are better than someone else. If we don’t want to accept advice from someone, very often we think about the flaws of that person and use that to disqualify them from being in any position to give us advice. But, can any of us really say with certainty that we are better than other people? Even the ones who commit sins openly, do we know what they are like in private? No. So, why do we only allow those we deem as ‘good enough’ to offer us advice? Remember the Prophet ṣallallāhu 'alayhi wa sallam (peace and blessings of Allāh be upon him) said: “Whoever has a mustard seed’s weight of pride (arrogance) in his heart, shall not be admitted into Paradise.”[Jami` at-Tirmidhi] #Solution: LET'S HUMBLE OURSELVES BEFORE ALLAH subḥānahu wa ta'āla (glorified and exalted be He) FIRST AND FOREMOST. Humbleness is the opposite of arrogance. Once we realize our actual worth; how helpless we are without HIS guidance and mercy, we will be more humble towards the people in our lives too. Let us also be more forgiving towards others, and rather than judge the person, let us judge the content of their words. Too often we take things as a personal attack, this stops us from recognizing the pearls of wisdom that could be embedded in the advice given. The Prophet ṣallallāhu 'alayhi wa sallam (peace and blessings of Allāh be upon him) said, “..no one will humble himself for Allah’s sake except that Allah subḥānahu wa ta'āla (glorified and exalted be He) raises his status.” [Muslim] 🌷 Reason #2: HOW THE ADVICE IS GIVEN More often than not, the advice we receive is given in a manner that makes our skin crawl; the arrogant look, the judgmental tone, the place at which the advice is given, the timing…you name it! So what ends up happening is confrontation. You get offended rather than benefited. It is very hard to filter the content when it seems like harsh criticism, but that is when we need to remember the importance of patience and keep our cool. A person may sound like they are passing judgement, but what they are saying might actually lead to you gaining more reward from Allah subḥānahu wa ta'āla (glorified and exalted be He)? #Solution: THANK ALLAH subḥānahu wa ta'āla (glorified and exalted be He) FOR BRINGING THIS PERSON INTO YOUR LIFE BECAUSE HE/SHE IS HELPING YOU GAIN MORE HASANAT. Another way to overcome this is to recognize that a lot of times, people give their unsolicited opinion in order to gain a reaction, when you give the expected annoyed reaction, it fuels them. So, rather than have a confrontation, thank them for their words, smile and move on with your life. A lot of us are probably trying to seek forgiveness for the mountains of sins that we have, let’s not add to that by getting involved in an unnecessary confrontation. Let this uncomfortable scenario be a means for you to earn hasanaat through your patience, and acquire Allah’s forgiveness. “…And let them pardon and overlook. Would you not like that Allah should forgive you? And Allah is Forgiving and Merciful.” [Qur’an: Chapter 24, Verse 22] 🌷 Reason #3: WRONG TIMING This is one of my current favorites. You see, I’m currently going through my second chemo in two years. I have a short fuse, and when my well-intended friends who love me dearly send messages about being strong in trials and making the most of the difficult period and so on, I just blow up! I calm down quickly, but I do blow up! ( Psst… they don’t know about it, so let this be a secret between us, OK?) #Solution: DON'T RUSH TO REACT. Take a deep breath and divide the advice into 2 parts: the actual advice and the emotional drama that unfolds within you. Store the advice in your mind for later, and work on controlling the emotions first. In sha Allah, by time and practice, you will become an expert at controlling your emotions and you’ll manage to extract the advice and benefit from it. Honestly speaking, after silently shedding some tears of frustration upon reading those messages, I swear I feel better because of that very same advice that made me blow up. They get me more determined to be “productive” in my trying times. I say alhamdullilah for receiving advice because, otherwise, I would have gotten lost in self pity. 🌷 Reason #4: LAZINESS AND FEAR OF FAILURE Yes, you read it right: laziness. Even though we attend productivity lectures, we don’t follow through with what they teach us, as we are too lazy to leave our comfort zone and try something new. Or we may be too afraid to fail. For example, when my husband got me a new laptop with a different operating system, I was pretty upset about learning how to use it! #Solution: CONQUER YOUR LAZINESS. Be more determined to make the changes and always learn from them. If we want to be better human beings, we have to make a lot of changes in our habits and attitudes. Once we decide to do that, advice will be easy to accept and implement, in sha Allah. A lot of times, people want to do a massive overhaul of their character, thinking they will make a dramatic change in their lives. When they are unable to achieve or sustain this process, they give up completely. Change is easiest when we work on small habits. Dropping bad ones and picking up small good acts and remaining consistent. The Prophet ṣallallāhu 'alayhi wa sallam (peace and blessings of Allāh be upon him) said “Do good deeds properly, sincerely and moderately and know that your deeds will not make you enter Paradise, and that the most beloved deed to Allah is the most regular and constant even if it were little.” [Sahih] 🌷 Reason #5: THE GENERATION GAP When the advice comes from elders, we tend to feel, “what do they know about the struggles we face today.” If the advice comes from youngsters, we tend to feel, “ how can they advise us, they have no experience,” and then we ignore the advice. In reality, however, the elders have that magical ingredient called “experience” that makes what they say correct at least 50% of the time, and the youngsters have knowledge that we didn’t have access to when we were young. #Solution: REALIZE WHERE THE ADVICE IS COMING FROM. If the advice is coming from someone who loves you; your parent, siblings, spouses, friends…etc, know that they mean ONLY good for you. Listen carefully to their advice. It doesn’t matter whether they are young or old, just pay attention. At no point in our lives do we ever become experienced enough that we can no longer receive advice. If we ever feel like we have reached that point, we run the risk of becoming arrogant, and seeing ourselves as better than others. Musa 'alayhi'l-salām (peace be upon him) was a Messenger of Allah subḥānahu wa ta'āla (glorified and exalted be He), yet he accepted that Khidr 'alayhi'l-salām (peace be upon him) had knowledge which he didn’t have and tried his best to pay attention. The Prophet ṣallallāhu 'alayhi wa sallam (peace and blessings of Allāh be upon him) frequently took advice from his companions and wives regarding important matters. Remember also that if/when the advice comes from your parents, you must show the best of patience towards them. Sometimes it can be very frustrating and we feel like our parents have no idea on the kind of struggles we go through today, but Allah subḥānahu wa ta'āla (glorified and exalted be He) says “And your Lord has decreed that you not worship except Him, and to parents, good treatment. Whether one or both of them reach old age [while] with you, say not to them [so much as], “uff,” and do not repel them but speak to them a noble word.” [Qur’an: Chapter 17, Verse 23]. One thing to bear in mind each time we answer back to our parents, if Allah subḥānahu wa ta'āla (glorified and exalted be He) set the mere expression of ‘uff’ as forbidden and not allowed, imagine the sins that could be piled up when we actually answer back rudely! And last but not the least… 🌷 REMEMBER THE COMPANIONS OF THE PROPHET ṣallallāhu 'alayhi wa sallam (peace and blessings of Allāh be upon him) They had to literally leave many habits and activities after they accepted Islam, and they were constantly advised on how to be better Muslims. If they stopped taking the advice that was coming their way, or rejected it on the basis of the age/status of the one giving advice etc, would they have become who they’ve become? No. They were grown men holding important positions, yet they constantly humbled themselves and took the beneficial advice that came their way. Islamic history is strewn with this type of examples. I personally am giving myself advice through this article. The benefit that I hope for you and me is that we become better people and become among those Allah subḥānahu wa ta'āla (glorified and exalted be He) called as ‘people of understanding’ [Qur’an: Chapter 39, Verse 18]. May Allah subḥānahu wa ta'āla (glorified and exalted be He) make us of those who accept beneficial advice; those whose goal is to be guided and be people of understanding. Ameen. Please share with us your thoughts and reflections below. • • • • Source: https://productivemuslim.com/take-advice-productively/ #WriteUpOfTheDay #LearnApplyGetMotivated #SocialProductivityWeek #ProductiveRamadhan2018

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