#not a single hint at male nor female nor anything in between

[somedaytakethetime]

Could I maybe write an homage to blue eyes without actually using a single pronoun? Could I create something that's short and sweet, yet uses a whole lot of pretentious writing as I word-vomit about my favourite eye colour? Well.. you tell me 🤔

Notes and warnings: just an ode to blue eyes, besties. There's a hint at sex, but it's very demure and proper, I promise. It's just a small bit of text about blue eyes, really.

Word count: 863 words, I told you it was a small bit of writing..

The sky is a serene blue, calming and soothing in it's nature. The sound of the waves is lulling you to sleep even as your eyes stay open, focused on the sky above. The sand is warm beneath your back and you relax as a deep sigh exits your body. Endless peaceful blue clouds your vision, continued even as brilliant blue eyes appear right in front of your face. Beautiful blue eyes, calming and soothing in their nature too. A soft smile pulls at the corners of your lips, warmth spreads through your body, all over, way down your toes, blooming from your chest. Love floods your body, rolls and crashes over you, echoing the waves licking at the sand. Your hand reaches out, caresses a soft, pink cheek and equally pink lips upturn to mirror your smile. Warmth. Warmth sand, warm skin. Vision flooded with so much blue, and so much peace and love.

A twinkling sapphire blue sky catches your attention as you look out the window. Startled awake because you didn't realise you fell asleep. The car is in motion, you're being driven home after a peaceful day spent together. Sparkling sapphire eyes look at you, a tender and loving smile pulling at soft lips, "We're almost home. Did you sleep well?". Warmth spreads in your chest as that beloved, gentle voice speaks to you. You nod and curl up in your seat, body twisting on instinct, seeking out the bond that exists between you. The lights are bright spots as they quickly pass by, the external sounds muffled within this warm, safe space that you inhabit. A car isn't safe, not necessarily, but you feel safe here. The deep connection and affection you feels offers you all the safety you need. Sapphire eyes focus on the road ahead, the soft humming and gentle tapping on the wheel in rhythm with the radio makes you relax even further against the seat. You watch, transfixed, as bright night lights shine and reflect off of those beloved gentle eyes.

Icy blue sparkles in the sun. The lake has frozen over and you stop to watch, mesmerised, as the warm rays sparkle against that perfect mirror-like surface, turning it nearly blindingly bright. Icy blue eyes look at you, a woolen-clad hand reaches out, "Is everything okay?", gentle worried tone, wondering if something is wrong and why you stopped so suddenly. "It's beautiful, isn't it?", crystal icy blue turns to look at the nearly blinding lake as the sun shines uncharacteristically bright for this time of year in this area, a shrug rises and falls from graceful shoulders, "I've seen it all my life, it looks the same as it does every year. But I get it's new for you, so it's ~*wonderous*~ and ~*magical*~." your own woolen-clad hand reaches out for a soft smack, "Stop mocking me, it's not funny.." but it is in it's own way. You've never experienced any of this. It's on par with a miracle for you, but those beautiful icy eyes have landed on this same lake every single year, for many years now. A woolen-clad hand wraps around yours, pulls you tighter, for a moment you stop just to observe the lake. Despite the teasing, those beautiful sparkling eyes try to see the world in the same way yours do, full of wonder and curiosity over your new surroundings. A soft smile is directed at you, "You really think it's beautiful, don't you?" and you sigh just as softly. Besotted and in love. Gazing into those icy blues, you nod, "The most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

The palest blue is looking at you. Nearly grey at this hour and in this dark room, as hands reach for your body, lips softly kissing your neck and whispering, "I need you.". Warmth spreads through you instantly, need drips from your aching soul on the spot. Warm, sleepy lips touch yours, hands pulling at your clothes while yours slide under fabric, seeking out the pleasure, guided by need. Pale blue is yet again looking at you, a chest rises and falls against yours, breathless with a desperate yearning. "I love you.", is whispered and dreamy, you're both clouded with sleep, but the need is so strong.. there's so much want.. and devotion.. and love. Warm hands leave burning touches behind, two bodies press together and move in sync, as one single soul. Soft sounds echo in the dark, quiet room. Deep kisses mix with needy sounds, tender touches exchanged, a crescendo of need and pleasure flooding two bodies who exist as one. Foreheads pressed, beautiful pale blue looking right at your soul as all the need erupts and crashes through you. Desperate hands cling to pliant flesh, tongues mixing in a dance for dominance, controlled by need. Chests rise and fall as breathless panting overtakes your bodies, "I love you so much.", the palest blue eyes are looking at you. You feel warmth, and love, and devotion spread through your body, all the way down your toes, blooming from your chest. You understand now that you have a favourite colour: all these precious, loving shades of blue.

[emilia3546]

Shadowsinger Part 22 - Gwynriel

ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter*

Masterlist with all previous chapters

TW: Mentions of past SA

*****

Gwyn smiled softly at the female who showed her around, both dropping their gazes when a group of males turned the corner, and Gwyn fought the urge to squirm under their prolonged gaze,

"You alright?" Shit, she must have noticed,

"Yes. Fine, I just wish they wouldn't stare too long,"

"Take it as a compliment, it's the only way to really ignore them,"

"Oh, it's not that," it totally was that, but she wasn't going to admit it, that would open other conversations that she didn't want to have, maybe with Nesta and Emerie, maybe with Azriel, but not someone she just met, "It's my husband," she lied. "He doesn't like when other males look to long, I'd hate someone to get hurt."

"Oh. Fair enough." She fell into silence, a hint of sadness crossing her features for a moment, but she hid it away too quickly for Gwyn to figure her out, shaking her head and smiling again quickly, "Since you're not a seamstress, we'll get you to help with collecting laundry for now, Cauldron knows there's a lot now," Gwyn chuckled despite herself,

"That's the thing with armies isn't it, they do make a mess,"

"They do, especially these young boys, they have no idea that their shit gets tidied up by someone, not just magic," Gwyn chuckled again, but she didn't miss the flash of fear, undisguisable this time, "Please don't repeat that."

"Never," Gwyn promised, "You can speak freely around me,"

"No." The other female whispered, "I can't. Even if you don't tell my brother, someone else might hear, the walls are thin here, but thank you." She offered Gwyn a smile before slipping away, and Gwyn made to call after her, but had no idea what to say, she didn't even know her name. Perhaps she was used to people not bothering to learn it. Gwyn made a silent promise to herself to learn every female's name here before they left. She sighed, finding her way down the corridor, and knocked on the first door, hoping that the room's occupant would be gone, and she could just grab the laundry and run,

"Hello," the door swung open, and Gwyn stepped back, "To what do I owe the pleasure," the male ran his gaze up and down Gwyn's body, then tugged her chin up, holding on when she tried to pull away, "Don't be rude," he chastised, and Gwyn trembled, her fear not completely an act, "Come to keep me warm, huh?" she'd never be able to go for her dagger quickly enough if he decided to try anything. She blinked back the tears welling in her eyes, she could still take him down, all she needed to do was break his hold, she could easily manage that, a quick punch to his elbow joint, then she'd duck under his arm, throw a punch to the nose, a knee to the groin, she'd be gone before he knew what had happened. With a plan in her head she squashed down that fear, she wasn't helpless anymore, Azriel would have never let her do this, never brought her if he didn't think she could throw down with every male here and win. And she could win, she didn't need her dagger, she just needed to be quicker than him. She swallowed when the male tugged her face from side to side,

"Let go, please," she said, wriggling, but he only tightened his hold, ignoring her request, and ran his gaze along her body again, the entitlement in that gaze making her see red, but she held her tongue, she had to try and get out of this without drawing attention first, if that failed, then she'd break his balls.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing here?"

"My husband sent me to help the others with laundry, sir," she muttered, hating every word, but placed enough emphasis on her husband that the male let go,

"Why are the good ones always married?" He muttered angrily, "Go on then," she slipped past him, half-surprised that he'd let her go, although it was probably more for his own skin than hers, after all, if he'd tried anything more, Azriel would be forced to demand a duel. Not that she worried for Azriel, none of the males here would last a minute, but it would draw attention, attention they did not need. She subtly glanced around the room, nothing of note, she wouldn't bother searching here.

She nodded to the male as she slipped back out past him, her heart still hammering against her chest. She only relaxed once she heard the door close, the male's gaze no longer boring into the back of her head, and knocked on the next one, finding it empty, but with a pile of laundry to be collected, and nothing helpful upon a quick sweep of the room. The next few rooms were similarly useless, a few having occupants, one female, left there by her father, who didn't trust her not to 'do something dumb', in other words, run off. She seemed so bored and lonely that Gwyn did wait with her for a few minutes, offering much need conversation, her name was Laylah, she was from Ironcrest, and she was twenty, unmarried, and hated being here. Gwyn offered her own, fake, name, and explained what she was doing, suggesting that she ask her father if she could help, saying that she might well be able to simply help with clothing repair. Laylah grinned at that and agreed, waving as Gwyn left. The next two rooms each had a single male occupant, one simply waved her in, paying her no attention, the other stared a bit, but left her alone, it seemed the fake wedding band was doing it's job, mostly.

The final door on that corridor did not lead to a bedchamber, nor was there any laundry to collect, but it was interesting, an office of some sort. She slipped inside, closing the door behind her, with the bag of laundry leaning against it, there was an open window, if it came to it, she could jump out and be hidden beneath the ledge before anyone could see her. This didn't seem too important, but Gwyn rifled through the drawers, ignoring most things, but a letter caught her eye, one between the late Queen Briallyn, and someone who seemed to be a general. The letter was encoded somehow, and Gwyn didn't know enough to be able to decipher it, she glanced around the room, finding a blank piece of paper, and copied down the letter, rolling up the copy and slipping it into the bodice of her gown before setting everything back to rights, there was no trace she'd been in there when she left.

The corridor was, thankfully, empty when Gwyn re-emerged, quickly running back to deposit the laundry and continue collecting the rest of it. Most rooms she visited that day were just as useless as the first few, but there were some that she mentally marked to come back to, either when they were empty, or she had more time, or fewer eyes on her. She lost track of the time, running to get back to their room before that evening's training finished, she was expected to be there waiting, and if she wasn't there, someone would guess something was up.

The hallways were empty as she flew along them, slowing to a brisk walk when she heard voices at the end of their corridor,

"She not there?" Shit. Azriel would have to berate her now, in front of those others, whether they were the same as before or not, she'd hoped not to force him to do that,

"Amirah! where have you been?" Gwyn almost flinched at the accusatory tone, it's not real. It's not real.

"I-"

"You know what, I don't care," she leapt forwards, towards making Azriel's comforting hand on her lower back look like a shove, but relaxed, it wasn't a big deal then, "Get in there," she ran inside, hiding in the corner until the voice faded and Azriel shut the door, "You okay? Something happen?"

"Not really, just an idiot, I lost track of time, I should have gotten back earlier, I hate to put you in a difficult position."

"Nah, you didn't, you just solidified their belief in us, letting me 'scare' you inside,"

"Like you could scare me," she scoffed, "You're a soppy baby at heart, Shadowsinger,"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm the one who does the protecting around here." Azriel laughed again,

"Whatever would I do without my beautiful little Valkyrie?"

"Die, probably," Gwyn muttered, wrinkling her nose up when Azriel leaned down to kiss her cheek, "Oi, go away, I'm trying to concentrate,"

"So, I'm distracting?"

"I think you know the answer to that," she rolled her eyes, "Listen now, I found something," all jokes died at those words,

"Show me,"

"A letter, from Briallyn to a general, I think. It's in code, I don't know how to decrypt it, I'm hoping you will."

"Let me see," Azriel leaned back in his chair and pursed his lips as he studied the letter, "It's an old code, one I haven't seen in a while, I don't remember it all, but, hang on a minute, you got a pencil?" Gwyn silently handed one over, rather inappropriately smiling at the way his hair fell over his forehead when he leaned forwards to note down the encryption he remembered. "Are you staring at me, Gwyn?"

"What can I say, you're quite useful as my eye candy," he snorted in disbelief, but silently shook his head,

"You're a menace, Berdara,"

"You can thank Nesta for that," she grinned, standing to cross the room, leaning over him, an elbow resting on his shoulder as he noted down the last few words he'd been able to decipher.

"Not groundbreaking, I'm afraid, but we do know that they're planning something. She mentioned a winged army, the Illyrians I think, so whatever the big plan is, it's been in the works a while,"

"Mhhhm, here, does that name ring any bells?"

"Don't think so, why?"

"I met a female with that name today, maybe it means nothing, but, any ideas about the words around it?" Azriel frowned back at the letter,

"Something about her father, what did you find out about her?"

"She's from Ironcrest, unmarried, lives alone with her father, who doesn't really trust her, she's restless, wants to explore the world, it seemed like her father's looking for ways to tie her down. She's still unclipped, thank the Cauldron, but she wanted to escape a bit I think, does it say anything about her role, or just that she exists?"

"Hang on," he started writing out what seemed to be a sort of dodgy alphabet, cross referencing to the letter, "You got your notes on the queens?"

"Yeah?"

"Who's married?"

"None, one is widowed, with a son."

"They want to marry Laylah to that boy."

"But she's immortal!"

"I don't think they care. She's the Camp Lord's daughter," she hadn't mentioned that earlier, "The male's a monster, he'll see this as a way to build an alliance,"

"By selling his daughter into marriage with a human, whose people hate all fae?"

"Yes. She's not a person in his eyes, just something he can use to improve his standing, to bring him closer to ruling all of Illyria, not just Ironcrest, he's never kept his ambitions secret,"

"Why am I only just hearing about this now?"

"Because I didn't think it was relevant, I hadn't even considered that it might be a part of his motivations for leaving, but if we're right," he trailed off, "Shit." he finished, "If we're right, we'll have to take her with us when we leave, can you get close to her again? Subtly try and see if she's loyal to the Night Court or not?"

"Yeah, that should be fine, but what if I can't get to her?"

"Just try, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." She sighed and stepped back when Azriel pushed his chair out, tugging her into his lap. She sighed again and looped her arms around his neck, leaning into him as she closed her eyes. "You said there was an idiot earlier?"

"He, um, it doesn't matter,"

"Yes, it does," Azriel pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his thumb stroking up and down her ribcage, "It's clearly upset you, whatever it is, talk to me, please,"

"The great Spymaster begging, not something I expected," she laughed,

"Stop deflecting, if you don't want to talk, that's fine, but I'm worried about you, okay? You're alone out there, and someone upset you, I'd like to help if I can,"

"Az, really, it's okay, it was just one of the males making a few comments, and he just made me uncomfortable,"

"Just some comments?"

"And, um, he grabbed my face," she quieted when he stilled, going dangerously quiet, "He let go, Az,"

"Before or after you mentioned your 'husband'?" Oh shit, she couldn't lie, he'd know, and she didn't want him to think she didn't trust him, she did, but she didn't want him upset, she didn't want him to do something stupid,

"After," she whispered, turning in his lap to cup his face at the shuddering breath he drew in, "It's okay, he didn't hurt me, and he let me go, I'm fine, it's not worth it,"

"He scared you." Not a question, but Gwyn answered anyway,

"Yes." She looked away, afraid to see the disappointment that she couldn't defend herself against one male,

"Who was it?" Gwyn shook her head, "Who, Gwyn?" He softened his voice, but the threat was no less clear,

"I'm not telling you, you'll kill him, and draw attention, and bust our cover,"

"I don't care,"

"You don't care? I care, we're here for a reason, are you hearing yourself right now?" She demanded, glaring at him, but relented slightly at the fear in his eyes beneath the layers of anger, he was worried about her, and that was allowed, but she couldn't let him jeopardize their mission for her.

*****

Gwyn was right, he wasn't thinking straight, but all he wanted was to find that male, whoever he was, and tear him apart with his bare hands. This male who'd thought to put his hands on the female he loved, the female who'd time and again proven that she was the strongest person he knew. He would kill everyone in this damn palace if he had to, but he had to know who it was, at least so that he could makes sure that the male didn't walk off any future battlefield. She was still staring at him, and he sighed, drawing in a few deep breaths, her calmness helping to ground him as she rubbed her thumbs across his cheekbone,

"I know," she muttered, "I know, I wanted to break his balls, but we can't, once we have what we need, once we're leaving, then you can kill him." There was no hesitation in her eyes, she wanted the male dealt with, and she wouldn't begrudge him this, but she put their mission first, like he should. Still, the idea of letting someone who had hurt her just wander around was too much, he should put the mission first, but for some reason he couldn't.

She's worried you think less of her for not punching him in the gut, she did want to though.

Of course, she did, it's Gwyn.

She thinks you'll be disappointed.

"Gwyn?" Azriel slowly turned her face back towards him, "Are you really okay?"

"Yes. Why do you keep asking?"

"I'm waiting for an answer I believe."

"Well, I'm fine,"

"I'm not buying it, Gwyn, please, let me help,"

"I'm fine, I'm not hurt, I played the 'husband' card and he let me go, it rattled me, and he scared me, and I couldn't even deal with one male, and that's pathetic, but I'm fine. I'm fine surrounded by these types of males, I can defend myself, apparently, but today I failed, but not every female here can, and I have you to shout for, to threaten with, what if they don't? What if their husbands, fathers, brothers don't care? What if they are those males? I couldn't deal with one, and I'm supposed to be able to, and what if I panic when it really matters, what if something happens again at some point and I just panic?" She was shaking as she spoke, unable to stop the words, and Azriel just held her, brushing the tears away, letting her speak, "I'm supposed to be good at this, I can defend myself, but I got scared, and for a few seconds I lost it, I only made a plan once it was too late if he'd tried anything, he could have done anything before I'd sorted my mind out to stop him." She sucked in an unsteady breath, then another, and another, shallower, faster.

"Breathe in," Azriel ordered, "No, in," she released the breath, "Gwyn. Breathe in." She did as he said, panic flooding her gaze as she clung to him, "Now hold it," she was still sobbing quietly, but she did hold the breath, "Now breathe out." She did and immediately sucked in a shallow breath, "I want you to hold when you breathe out as well, love," She nodded, struggling to draw in another deep breath, but held Azriel's gaze, "I've got you," she breathed in, and held it, "I love you," she breathed out, and held it, "You're safe," in again, "You're here with me," out and hold, "You are the bravest," she drew in another breath, more controlled this time, "The strongest female I've ever met."

She released the breath, finally able to breathe without holding in between breaths, "I am always, always in awe of you, Gwyn, you astound me every day. Today, you found your head, you didn't let your fear win, you escaped the situation." She nodded, and buried her face in his neck, still managing those deep breaths, murmuring something to herself, but when she quieted, Azriel continued, "Every day that you don't let the fear win in a victory, each time you win out over that fear is another 'fuck you' to the ones who hurt you, each time you choose to be happy over being afraid is another day that I am in awe of you," his own tears were falling now, "Please, Gwyn, never think less of yourself for your fear, it is only with that fear that you can be brave, there is no courage without fear, and you prove every day, that I have no idea, none, what true courage is. You have that true courage, and it's part of why I fell for you, and no-one can take it from you, no-one, so promise me one thing, never forget that, never forget that your courage cannot be broken, not by anyone, and certainly not by your fear. Can you promise me that, never forget?" Gwyn sniffed, and snuggled into him again, but nodded, sending another tears slipping down Azriel's own face,

"I promise."

[orsuliya]

Just like what other people said, your blog is my MI wikipedia! You touched on the subject of our Dawang not being celibate and might have some arrangements with the likes of widows. I think that since getting married, he probably was which fits into Xiao Qi's sensibilities. I also thought that perhaps it is more plausible that his excursions to the Nighshou grasslands involve more than sightseeing and probably inculded some extra curicular activities to scratch some itch ;) The girls there are

are more liberal and more forward than their Cheng counterparts. There would be a lot more opportunities for one night stands which eleminates from delveloping feelings compared to the alternative of friends with benefits. Also, he rules Ningshou, the possibility of being seen with someone however brief and far between would set tongues a wagging. *Apologies, I'm new to tumblr. Sorry that my question was on two "asks". I did not know that there was a limit on words

To be honest, I don't quite know myself how this character limit is supposed to work, when it's clear that some of my Nonnies know no limits... when it comes to the length of their asks. How they do it, I couldn't say.

If we're talking about drama!Xiao Qi, I fully believe he hasn't stepped out with anybody since their marriage. But then again, he liked Awu from the start and unlike his book counterpart wasn't creeped out by her being a child bride. By the time they get married he has some reason to believe she might be the one for him, even if at that point it's mostly wishful thinking. However, his interest is definitely piqued! Besides, in the drama their marriage is something that he seems to be interested in for its own sake and not something he enters into for purely political gain. The difference is so significant that I believe he would have eventually sought Awu out while she was living in Huizhou and it's rather doubtful this would have taken him three years; the kidnapping simply moved the timeline up.

As for his bachelor years, you might be onto something with this sightseeing-with-benefits theory. Although it does present its own challenges. See, book!Xiao Qi kept concubines and had this entire thing about openly dosing his every sexual partner with contraceptives, whether they wanted it or not. This curious policy had much to do with his own tragic backstory and even more with his ambitions, neither of which drama!Xiao Qi shares. Yet even so I don't believe the latter would be any more enthusiastic about sowing his wild oats everywhere, knowing it might bring about some pretty heavy consequences, nor would he refuse to take responsibility. And yet there are no children.

The problem with having sexual relations with eligible local females under his own name would be that any of them might potentially try to tie him down with a child; and it would even work, knowing his feelings about parentless children and their plight. I rather doubt drama!Xiao Qi is the kind of man who forces women to drink contraceptives for no reason other than his personal whim; if he was, nothing would be stopping him from taking official concubines, which he explicitly does not in the drama. Not that it stops girls from trying. In fact, Lu-furen had brought in her two young relatives for the very purpose of slipping them between Xiao Qi's sheets, which is why we hear them assure their protector they might yet have a chance of becoming concubines despite there suddenly being a main wife. And Xiao Qi unwillingness to keep women is apparently nothing new; according to Yuxiu there were no women in the house for at least two years and probably even before that.

However, it's rather obvious that Ningshuo girls see no problem with propositioning a total stranger without knowing as much as his name. This tells us that while most relations started around the bonfire probably end in marriage, not all of them necessarily do. Moreover, it hints at there being a common way of minimizing the risk of possible pregnancy. Alternatively and much less likely, unmarried pregnancy is not socially-ostracized and might in fact be seen as a definite proof of female fertility. Were the stakes in any way high, then any woman would think ten times before propositioning someone who could disappear in the morning, never to be seen again. Local lads who can be easily pressured into taking responsibility should be more than fine; an elusive stranger, however attractive, not so much. Alima strikes me as anything but foolish and while Xiao Qi is hot, he's not so hot as to risk your whole future for a single night with him. No man is.

Even so, while incognito affairs are a definite option, it's not something I can see happening with any regularity, hence my theory about friendly widows with little incentive to formalize any sexual relationship. Also, I wouldn't reject the possibility of certain closeness between comrades, homosexual behaviours being neither criminalized nor seen as immoral in ancient China and in fact rather common before, you guessed it, foreign influence started to creep in during Tang dynasty, especially if such relations didn't interfere with filial piety and producing children. Now, for any OT3-shippers out there, sharing a male partner with one's wife would be seen as something extraordinary, but also not totally out of the realm of possiblity, see General Liang Ji and his domestic arrangements.

[weevil-wallflower]

I just created an entire demon family...pt1

(aka my demon OCs. All are full demons so only gonna mention it once 👀)

My Demon Lore:

My understanding regarding demons is that not all demons are evil and thus not all tempt human beings to sin. Many simply live their lives peacefully, sometimes even among humans. Many even follow different religions much similar to humans. And of course due to that, the many good ones don’t align themselves with Satan which means they can neither be banished to hell nor does Satan has any jurisdiction over them. These demons are also not repelled by religious artefacts or places of religious worship or just religion in general, especially if they happened to be religious themselves. But no need to worry; these kinds of demons are peaceful for the most part and do not mean anyone any harm unless provoked or threatened. (This understanding comes from the knowledge I have about my religion uwu)

≧ω≦ ω ≧ω≦ ω ≧ω≦

Winfryd Wright

General:

Full name: Winfryd Wright

Nickname(s): Winnie (by Zinnia), Win

Age: 37

Birthdate: 30th January, Aquarius

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Nationality: British-American

Religion: Islam

Relationship status: Single (for now (・ω<) hint: it’s Zinnia, my very first oc)

Occupation: MD / Military Psychiatrist; Medic (previously)

Title/Rank: Doctor / Major

Physical appearance:

Complexion: White

Eyes: Light blue

Hair: Blonde

Height: 6′ 3″

Build/body type: Muscular and well-built

Weight: ~210 lbs / 95 kg

Unique trait(s): Polydactyly; 6 fingers on each hand with the 6th one, the pinky finger, being fully functional

Voice Claim: Jason Isaacs

Family:

Oliver Wright (son)

Zinnia Frost (girlfriend for now >:3)

Peter Wright (paternal uncle)

Wilhelmina “Mina” Wright (paternal aunt)

Anthony Winters (cousin)

Emma Winters (cousin-in-law)

Jody Winters (nephew)

His aunt and uncle don’t have children of their own. They raised Winfryd when his parents passed away when he was a child.

Psychology:

Moral alignment: Chaotic Good

Personality: Ambivert, benevolent, kind, sympathetic, open-minded, patient, polite.

Likes: His family, helping people, keeping a strict doctor-patient confidentiality, terrifying his enemies to death.

Dislikes: Those who harm others especially his family & friends, disorderliness, injustice, inequality.

Demonic Characteristics:

Physical appearance: (Since no one knows what demons really look like, my headcanon is that demons have two natural forms; their human form and their demon form. And they can willingly switch between those two forms)

Winfryd’s demonic form consists of:

Tough, pale skin.

Black sclera.

A third eye 👁️ - The ones on his hands aren’t always there. They are a product of his shape-shifting abilities.

Extremely sharp teeth; Unfortunately, his teeth remain same even in his human form.

Forked tongue.

Four long tentacle-like appendages protruding from his upper back. (Inspired by one of my favourite characters in MGS4, Laughing Octopus. I just love her design and how she moves :3).

Two black horns (Can’t have a demon without horns uwu).

Claws.

Powers & Abilities:

A very capable psychiatrist.

Proficient at close-quarters combat.

Knowledge in firearms.

Superhuman strength (not superhuman to the extent of superman. imagine Captain America).

Supernatural Durability.

Is religious himself so not repelled by artefacts or places of religion.

Sharper senses.

Accelerated healing.

Pyrokinesis.

Razor-sharp teeth.

Telescopic vision via third eye.

Human possession.

Can use his tentacles to bludgeon, impale, grab and smash or wrap and crush enemies easily. He can use them to climb and hold on to structures, even walls, ceilings etc and even use them for locomotion.

Claws sharp & strong enough to tear apart bodies without breaking or snapping off.

Umbrakinesis: He can generate and manipulate darkness and travel through shadows and phase through matter. Thus he’s untouchable as a shadowy. Can also draw the shadows to him if in dire need of healing, 

Very acidic blood. Not exactly a power though... It’s said demons bleed fire since they are created from fire but that felt too over the top so I’ll stick with acidic blood.

Shape-shifting: It’s said that all demons can shape-shift to a limit, being able to take form of other humans & animals but Winfryd takes it to a whole other level. He can shape-shift into anything & when he wants to scare his enemies to death, he either appears in their room at night as a shadow figure or turns into eldritch things like these (an expert in body horror >:3):

All in all, Winfryd is a pretty powerful demon, not invincible but more powerful than most. And many things people use, for example the bible, the cross etc don’t work on him because he’s not a “Satanic demon” so to speak. He’s not repelled by religious things. He can even go inside the church and other places of worship.

Weaknesses/Limitations: Now, he may be powerful but that doesn’t mean he has no weaknesses:

Can be forced to reveal his demonic form by those who have knowledge on the occult.

Weak against ultrasonic weapons: Since demons have sharper senses than humans, these weapons would affect them more readily and would do a pretty good job of incapacitating them.

Extremely limited shadow manipulation in both total darkness and total light.

Intangible in his shadow form so can’t deal out any physical damage to his oponent.

No wings so can’t fly.

His pyrokinetic abilities weak against water.

Obsessive-compulsive personality disorder (OCPD): a personality disorder that’s characterized by extreme perfectionism, order, and neatness. People with OCPD will also feel a severe need to impose their own standards on their outside environment.

≧ω≦ ω ≧ω≦ ω ≧ω≦

Oliver Wright

General:

Full name: Oliver Wright

Nickname(s): Ollie (by Zinnia)

Age: 3

Birthdate: 30th March, Aries

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Nationality: British-American

Occupation: He’s a baby! >:O

Physical appearance:

Complexion: White; with freckles (cause freckles are cute uwu)

Eyes: Light blue

Hair: Blonde

Height: 2′ 11″

Build/body type: Small toddler

Weight: ~30 lbs / 14 kg

Family:

Winfryd Wright (father)

Zinnia Frost (stepmother; later on uwu)

Peter Wright (great uncle)

Wilhelmina “Mina” Wright (great aunt)

Anthony Winters (uncle)

Emma Winters (aunt-in-law)

Jody Winters (second cousin)

Unknown mother: His mother (also a demon) abandoned him so to speak. When he was born, she wanted to give him away but Winfryd said that he’ll look after the child. That didn’t sit well with her because she never wanted kids and so she made him choose between her and the baby. (Later on, this would be one of the reasons Winfryd will come to love Zinnia so much. That she treats his child, that’s not even her biological child, like her own.)

Psychology:

Moral alignment: Just a smol bebey.

Personality: A very sweet & well behaved little kid, albeit a bit possessive of his stepmom.

Likes: His stepmom i.e. Zinnia, his dad, his great aunt & great uncle, his cousin Jody, playing with building blocks, candies, cartoons, hugs.  Definitely also gonna develop a liking for video games cause of his stepmom :3

Dislikes: Mean people, being yelled at - it scares him qwq, other people hugging or kissing his stepmom even if one of those people happens to be his dad.

Demonic Characteristics:

Physical appearance:

A third eye 👁️, just like his dad.

Yellow eyes.

Tiny lil razor-sharp baby teeth.

Cute lil bat-like wings.

Pointed ears.

Forked tongue.

Two horns (seems to be the right height to ram a person in a certain delicate spot 👀).

Powers & Abilities: Practically a baby so there aren’t much & those that he has aren’t fully developed yet & thus has no control over them:

Pyrokinesis: Ability to create, shape and manipulate fire. However, since Oliver is so young, he’s unable to control it. For now, it’s affected by his emotions for e.g. if he happens to be feeling frustrated, something nearby will spontaneously light on fire.

Adhesion Manipulation: basically can stick to surfaces, walk on walls, ceilings etc. But doesn’t have full control over it either.

Sharper senses.

Accelerated healing.

Very sharp teeth: Will resort to biting anyone who provokes/threatens him.

Acidic blood.

Telescopic vision via third eye.

Not repelled by artefacts or places of religion.

Weaknesses/Limitations:

Physically, he’s as strong as a normal human child so no superhuman strength.

Weak against ultrasonic weapons.

Can be trapped by those who have occult knowledge/practice. (But seriously, who would want to trap this cute lil kid? :’3).

Powers not yet fully developed.

Wings aren’t big enough to enable him to fly. Can only glide for now.

No claws yet.

His pyrokinetic abilities weak against water.

Is a baby so can’t possess.

Can’t pronounce Rs and Ls very well

Is a lil, innocent baby and must be protected at all costs.

≧ω≦ ω ≧ω≦ ω ≧ω≦

Peter and Mina Wright

General:

Full names: Peter Wright (left) & Wilhelmina “Mina” Wright (right)

Ages:  Peter: 65 & Mina: 60

Birthdates: Peter: 21st March & Mina: 23rd March, Aries

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Genders: Peter: Male & Mina: Female

Pronouns: Peter: He/Him & Mina: She/Her

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Nationality: British-American

Relationship status: Married to eachother ;3

Occupation: Dentists/Farmers (They met at dental school :3)

Physical appearance:

Complexion: Peter: White & Mina: Light Olive

Eyes: Peter: Light blue & Mina: Green

Hair: Peter: Grey & Mina: Blonde

Height: Peter: 6′ 0″ & Mina: 5′ 6″

Build/body type: Thin but lean, I guess? They’re getting old but they’re demons so still fit

Weight: Peter: ~159 lbs/72 kg & Mina: 117 lbs/53 kg

Voice Claims: (TBD)

Family:

Winfryd Wright (nephew): took him in after his parents’ death when he was a child. Treat him more like a son than a nephew.

Zinnia Frost (niece-in-law later on. Think of her as more like a daughter tbh)

Oliver Wright (grandnephew)

Anthony Winters (nephew)

Emma Winters (niece-in-law)

Jody Winters (grandnephew)

Psychology:

Moral alignments: Neutral Good.

Personality:  kind, sympathetic, open-minded, patient, polite.

Likes: Their family, showing kindness, helping people, their jobs.

Dislikes: Cruelty, rudeness, inequality.

Demonic Characteristics:

Physical appearance:

Peter: Black wings, two horns, sharp teeth.

Mina: Red wings, red horns, sharp teeth.

Powers & Abilities:

Superhuman strength.

Supernatural Durability.

Sharper senses.

Accelerated healing.

Sharp claws & teeth.

Flight.

Acidic blood.

Human possession.

Weaknesses/Limitations:

Weak against ultrasonic weapons.

Can be trapped by those who have occult knowledge/practice.

Lack telescopic vision.

≧ω≦ ω ≧ω≦ ω ≧ω≦

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - The Way of the Willow

Now here’s a controversial episode from season one. Let’s delve into the discourse, shall we. 

Summary:  It's Queen Arianna's birthday, and she receives an unexpected guest: her estranged sister, Willow. Willow and Rapunzel quickly bond, sharing a lot of the same personality traits (most notably them never wearing shoes), and Arianna feels a bit left out. To add to her aggravation, Willow has given her a pet with an annoying rattle. Eventually, Arianna explodes at her sister, letting her know her irritation with her and throws away the rattle. The pet starts to multiply and rampage over the countryside. Meanwhile, Lance and Eugene  take the King camping. 

More Filler, More Poor Pacing, More Fatigue 

This is yet another episode that was moved around. Noticing a pattern yet? It doesn’t effect the plot much, but it kills the pacing dead. By the time you get to this episode you’re just tired and bored and ready for the show to just get on with things. 

Let's Talk About Representation 

So we have here a show that is marketed towards pre-teen little girls run by two middle aged white guys and written primarily by men. The creators have claimed that female relationships are the focus of the show, but only to give us one female friend for our main hero, no other friendships with women in them, just two sister relationships, and only one mother that is even alive. 

Furthermore they go on to break up that single female friendship, refuse to give any focus to the only mother in the show, and then wrap the plot around the dead abusive mom instead, making her unnecessarily even more horrible than she was in the OG film. (just to make the equally abusive father in the show look better)

Meanwhile we get four father figures, all of whom are just some variant on the ‘overprotective estranged dad’ trope. Even though at least two of them could have been easily written to be mothers instead and it’d not change the plot one bit.   

When women talk about about poor representation in media, it’s things like this we are often complaining about. That’s not to say that men can’t write women.  Miyazaki, of Studio Ghibli fame, has made a lifelong career out writing movies for and starring women. Nor is this a claim that the TTS crew are misogynist. You can be well intentioned and still screw up. As is most often the case in films. 

But nevertheless, if you are writing for a demographic that you are not a part of then you need to either include those voices in the development of your story or reach out and consult people within that demographic. And no, you’re wife/niece/daughter/mother does not count here. You need to go beyond your personal social circle, as people who either don’t know you or have worked in the industry can be more open about what is needed in the writing process.  

Sadly there are rumors, (and please keep in mind this is only rumor, and we’ll never know the actual truth due to the fact that production artists are under contract and can’t share things without fearing for their livelihoods) but there are stories of the head showrunner shutting down the opinions of the female storyboard artists who warned him of some these creative decisions. 

Moreover said creator responded to criticisms of how his female characters were written by claiming he ‘knew strong women in his life’ as if that actually had anything to do with his writing skills. It’s a poor response and smacks of ‘Well I can’t be misogynistic, I love women. See, I married one’. Dear, male creators, please don't ever do this. It makes you look bad. 

So Where are Arianna and Willow From, Again?

The show keeps dropping hints that they’re from Corona itself and are born princesses, but that makes little sense. Because if Arianna was the rightful heir she’d have far more political power then she actually does in the show. If we’re to buy the idea that only Rapunzel will be in charge, and not her and Eugene, or even just Eugene. Then we have to accept that it’s because she’s the rightful heir by birth. If so, then Frederic must also be the blood heir or otherwise he wouldn’t be able to do all the things he does in the show. 

TTS is so determine to not have any real world markers in the show and keeping things a ‘fantasy’ that it winds up swinging too far in the opposite direction. To the point that it undermines its own worldbuilding.     

The Conflict Between Willow and Arianna is Good, but Unnecessary 

I’ve seen some debate over ‘who is right’ here, along with tons of unwarranted shade thrown at Willow, but the truth is, it doesn’t matter. Neither side is right or wrong, and for once the conflict in TTS is real, complex, not easily solvable with a ten minute conversation, and is presented evenly so that you know where each side is coming from. But in the end, it doesn’t add anything to the series. 

Willow is never seen outside of this episode. This is the only story that gives Arianna any kind of focus. Rapunzel learns nothing useful from witnessing their squabbles and it’s all build up to a be bad parable/parallel in the series finale. 

It’s a waste. A waste of conflict. A waste of character. A waste of time. 

Had Arianna been treated as an important character to the narrative, like she should have been, then maybe the episode would have fared better. 

Arianna is Reduced to a Pointless Parallel

We talked about it before but this might be the most grievous example of Tangled’s useless parallels.

Willow and Arianna are meant to be ‘foreshadowing’ (and I use that term loosely) for Rapunzel and Cassandra’s conflict in the finale season. Let me count the ways of how bad this actually is..

For starters Willows and Arianna’s conflit isn’t actually the same as Raps and Cass. There’s some overlap, but ultimately theirs is actually deeper and more complex than the Raps vs Cass stuff. It’s also only between them and does not involve ruining the lives of other people. So it’s a weak comparison to begin with.

Cassandra isn’t even here to make the parallel complete. She barely interacts with Arianna and has never met Willow on screen.

Rapunzel learns the wrong lessons from this. She gets encouragement from her aunt to go traveling and a pep talk from her mom during the show’s finale, but she doesn’t actually apply any of the actual context of the arguments being made to her own life. Making the parallel shallow.

Reducing a character from the original film, one that you did not create and who has reasons to be have more plot importance then they are given, to a mere ‘parallel’ for your favorite OC is just bad fanfiction. This is something that I would expect from a seven year old setting out to write their first ever story. Not from grown adults, who are supposedly professionals, who've worked for years in the industry and are employed by the largest entertainment studio in the world.

Now before you jump down my throat, there’s nothing wrong with fanfiction itself, nor with children exploring their favorite stories in ways they find personally fulfilling. But I happen to hold mass produced media to a different, and ultimately higher standard. As well should we all. A television show made by the mouse has more real world impact than a little girl posting on Ao3.

Critiquing stuff like female representation, the behind the scenes hiring processes that leads to either good or bad rep, and the impression these stories can have on people still developing their worldviews is important. Questioning things are needed in order to make change happen. If you never acknowledge how giving a show targeted to women to a male showrunner can cause problems then you’re never going to push the big companies for more female lead shows. Which means more women are left without work.    

This is Subjective but...

I don’t like the Uumlaut being used as the main conflict. Look, if you like the Gremlins references, good for you, but I was promised sword fights and adventure according to the pilot and all I got was a parody of a 80s horror comedy that decided to skip out on the ‘horror’ part. The Uumlaut isn’t threatening enough to be interesting and the lack of real threats and challenges in this show is really starting to weigh things down. Plus it just distracts from the far more interesting human drama going on with Willow and Arianna. 

Like if you don't want action to be the focus of every episode, that’s fine, but commit to that. Don't just half-ass it because you feel the need to shoehorn in an action sequence where it isn’t needed.    

Conclusion

I like Willow as a character, but not this episode. They needed to do more with her to justify her existence, and they needed to do more with Arianna while at it. Sadly, you won't really miss out on much if you decided to skip this episode and that’s a shame. 

Also... 

I’ll forever headcanon that Willow is the wife that Stan mentioned back in Rapunzel’s Enemy and that she’s his and Pete’s beard. You can’t change my mind. Poly relationships for the win! 

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

An Animorphs AU, just because.  The idea hit me and I rolled with it.

The black hole looms on every side, swallowing the horizon.  Elfangor presses cold-numb fingertips against the Time Matrix.  Loren’s floating beside him, the thing inside Alloran watching them both with terrible intent.  He thinks get me out of here.  Thinks I want to go home.  His last thought, before consciousness closes away from him in a black void, is of his family.  His scoop.  A wish flower.  A hologram.  Hope.

A being like nothing Elfangor has ever imagined sees the andalite aristh.  It sees inside his mind.

And it laughs.

Elfangor comes awake on the med table of an andalite fighter.  Not what he had expected, or intended.  There’s no sign of the humans, or of Alloran.  Instead, three andalite warriors stand over him.

«Vitals are normal.  Heartbeats are synchronized, but elevated,» the female warrior says.  She has a kit of medical supplies slung over her shoulder, and she’s watching Elfangor with the kind of naked curiosity that directs all four of her eyes his way.

«Thank you,» the captain says.  «That’ll be all for now.  I’ll let you know if anything changes.»

There’s no doubt that he’s the captain.  Nor that the other male warrior is the Tactical Officer.  It’s clear from the way that the medic salutes with her tail blade as she walks out the door, and from the slight tilt that the T.O. gives in return.

That’s all Elfangor knows.  How he got here... Where here is...

«Please identify yourself,» the T.O. says.  The use of please doesn’t disguise the sharpness of his tone.

«Aristh Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul,» Elfangor says.  «Formerly of the StarSword, although my most recent posting was aboard the Jahar.  Sir, where are the aliens who were with me?»

The captain and the T.O. exchange a glance, just a single stalk eye each.  «What was the nature of this mission, P— Aristh Elfangor?» the T.O. asks.

There’s something they’re not telling him.  It’s obvious there’s an entire conversation happening in thought-speak right now, one to which he is not privy.

«We found two aliens that had been kidnapped by skrit na,» Elfangor says, because he can’t exactly refuse an officer’s direct request.  «Arbron — my fellow aristh — and I were supposed to help Prince Alloran return the aliens to their home planet.»

«Then the Time Matrix was on Earth when you found it?» the captain asks.

Elfangor freezes.  He didn’t mention the name of the planet the aliens had come from, and he definitely didn’t mention the Time Matrix.

Several other details hit all at once.  The captain — if he even is a captain — looks barely older than Elfangor himself.  The T.O.’s posture is too close, too casual, and the captain is allowing it.  Neither one of them has introduced himself yet.

Elfangor has been trusting the captain automatically so far because — he loathes admitting it — because the captain has the same accent as Elfangor’s hometown and the same cowlick in his fur as Elfangor’s own mother, and Elfangor is so desperately homesick that he seized upon these hints of familiarity without ever thinking about why.

«Just answer the question,» the T.O. says.  The captain places a gentle hand on the T.O.’s arm.

«Sir. I...»  Elfangor rolls to stand, taking several steps away.  He salutes with his tail blade by way of apology, and then quickly drops it in submission.  His hearts are pounding.  He could be anywhere.  Anywhere.  «The humans who were with me...»

«They’re both safe on Earth,» the captain says.  «As is Alloran.»

Elfangor’s main eyes shut in shame.  «Sir.  There’s something you should know about Prince Alloran.»

Again, the captain and the T.O. exchange a glance, definitely whispering to each other in thought-speak.  «Yes?» the captain says at last.

«I failed my prince,» Elfangor says, opening his eyes, «and I failed my entire people.  Alloran has been infested by a yeerk called Esplin nine-four-six-six.»

«Oh, good,» the captain says.  «We were hoping you’d say that.»

Elfangor has jumped back, clear across the room and crouched with his tail blade snapping at the ready, faster than conscious thought.  He’d thought that Alloran’s paranoid mutterings about traitor andalites were just that, but now—

«Hey, hey, sorry, there’s no need for that.»  The captain holds up both hands in placation, a strangely humanlike gesture.  «It’s cool, Elfangor, it’s all cool.»  Now he even sounds like a human.  «I only meant that we’re glad you told us.  It means we can trust you.»

The captain takes a step forward.  Elfangor tenses to strike, and he stops moving.

«When I said Alloran’s safe, I meant that he’s no longer a controller,» the captain says.  «The yeerk inside him has been neutralized.»

«Who are you?» Elfangor demands, not lowering his tail.  «How do you know all this?»

Again, the captain and T.O. look at each other.

«Stop doing that!» Elfangor snaps, too overwhelmed to care about etiquette anymore.

«We were just deciding whether it would distress you less, or more, if we were to answer your question,» the T.O. says.  «And also debating the merits of calling Prince Estrid back in here so that she can sedate you for your own well-being.»

«Menderash is telling the truth,» the captain says.  «You taught me everything I know about tail-fighting, and half the Academy besides.  So if you chose to fight your way out of here, I doubt either one of us would be able to stop you.»

«What...»  Elfangor feels his tail lower slightly from sheer confusion.  «What...»

«You’re on board the Dome ship Intrepid,» the captain says.  «Twenty-three standard years have passed since the mission you just described.  Our Tactical Officer is Prince Menderash-Postill-Fastill.  My name is Prince Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill.»

Menderash leaves them alone.  Before he does, he presses the palm of his hand very briefly against Aximili’s cheek, an andalite kiss between lovers.  Elfangor gets his third or fourth shock of the past five minutes.  Normally a warrior, even the significant other of a captain, wouldn’t dare to show affection so openly.

Aximili registers him staring, of course, and tenses.

«You’re... not like other captains,» Elfangor comments awkwardly.

That gets Aximili to smile, eyes crinkling in a way that strengthens the resemblance to their mother.  «I served under two war-princes, both of whom taught me well.  One was considered wildly unconventional by andalite standards.»  He tilts a stalk at Elfangor.  «The other one wasn’t an andalite at all.»

Elfangor blinks.  «Things really have changed while I was gone.»

«Not that much, it would seem.  Prince Jake is...»  Ax makes a see-saw gesture with one hand, still strangely human in his mannerisms.  «The War Council does not officially recognize his position.  Any warrior who has ever seen him lead tends to hold a different opinion.  Alloran himself risked a challenge against a superior officer on Prince Jake’s behalf.»

«Alloran.»  Elfangor’s head is going to fall clean off if things get any more confusing.  «Challenged an officer.  For an alien.»

«In a way, it’s all your fault.»  Aximili’s smile turns fond.  «You’re the one who gave Prince Jake — and four other humans — the ability to morph.»

«I... why?»

«The yeerks were on Earth,» Aximili says simply.

And yes, that really does explain it all.

«The Electorate officials were angry at first,» he continues.  «But you did so much good for the war effort, it wasn’t long before they were putting up statues and naming Dome ships in your honor.»

Elfangor laughs, but stops abruptly.  «I’m dead, then.»  They don’t name Dome ships after living warriors.

Aximili goes still, realizing his error too late.  «Not before ensuring victory over the yeerks,» he says at last.  «You died honorably, doing battle to your last—»

A shudder wracks Elfangor’s body.  Of course there’s no escaping the war.  Of course not.  Of course they’ll make him fight and keep fighting, down to the very last heartbeat.  No end point.  No reprieve.  No other way.  Just a killer.  Just a tail blade and a trigger finger, and nothing in between.

Even after death, they wouldn’t let him be.  Named their war machines after him.  Taught their children to kill and die in his name.

«Elfangor...?»

«I’d like to be alone, if that’s all right,» he says.

Aximili nods.  He salutes briefly — one war-prince to another, this time — and leaves.

The next time they talk, there are a million questions.  Elfangor doesn’t know how he got here, or why he showed up without the Time Matrix.  Aximili can’t explain anything Elfangor saw before losing consciousness, but he does have more firsthand experience with time travel than Elfangor himself.  Haltingly, in fits and tangents, Aximili does his best to catch Elfangor up on everything that has happened in the years he missed.  Some of it makes no sense — Elfangor was a nothlit, and then he wasn’t — and some of it, like Arbron’s rebellion against the Yeerk Empire, fits perfectly.

Aximili gives Elfangor the free run of the Intrepid, and finds him a spare room to get him out of the med bay.  Warriors salute as they pass and call him “Prince Elfangor,” or “sir.”  The official story as recorded in the ship’s log is that he’s a castaway aristh rescued from a damaged fighter.  But the other warriors figured out Elfangor’s identity the moment he appeared unconscious in the middle of their dome, and now gossip follows him everywhere: he’s a war-prince.  A relic.  Most importantly: he’s Aximili’s little brother.  Yeah, the Aximili.

«Am I a prince?» he asks Menderash once, in a moment of weakness.

Menderash has been teaching Elfangor how to pilot.  Ten years ago, Menderash learned how to pilot by watching Elfangor.  They both try not to think about this too hard.

«Why would you ever think that you are not?» Menderash says, and then, «Eyes, Prince Elfangor.»

Elfangor sighs.  He has once again allowed his eyes to drift away from their proper position — one on the altitude, one on the engine lights, two on the viewscreen — to look down at his hands on the controls.  «I barely have any flight experience, for one,» he says.  «And the person who killed all those yeerks, won all those battles... He’s not me.  Not yet, and now not ever.  I think not, anyway.»

Menderash considers.  «You’re asking if our experiences make us who we are, or if we are born the way we will always be.»

«Um, yes.»

«I have no idea,» he says immediately, «but if you don’t stop accelerating into every takeoff like you’re being chased, then I will throw you out of the airlock.»

Elfangor flushes.  «Are you this mean to Aximili?»

«You mean when we’re alone together?»

And now Elfangor is flushing even more, half-hoping the floor will open and swallow him.

Menderash laughs.  «If I am, then I suppose you’ll have to throw me out of the airlock.»

«I’m a powerful war-prince, I guess.»  Elfangor dares to glance over at him.  «So you had better treat him right.»

«Eyes, Prince Elfangor.»  Menderash is still smiling, though.  «I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.»

There are a lot of long conversations with various authorities.  The Andalite War Council’s official opinion is that Elfangor might be the real deal but that they still refuse to acknowledge his existence, and will consider anyone attempting to use Elfangor’s identity an act of treason.  The Electorate defers to the War Council’s insistence on Elfangor’s death, but the representative they get on the phone asks for Elfangor’s autograph anyway.  The Galactic Union of Sentient Species has entirely too much interest in time travel, and also in pretending that time travel doesn’t exist and therefore Elfangor doesn’t exist.

«What are they so afraid of?» Elfangor asks Aximili, after their seventh or eighth attempt at contacting a real authority meets a dead end.  «I swore I wouldn’t tell anyone about the Time Matrix, and I mean it.  If I just said it was a sario rip from the Jahar’s engine exploding, no one would ever have to know.»

Aximili looks Elfangor over, clearly deciding how to explain something he worries Elfangor is too young to understand.  «I believe they’re most afraid of you being yourself,» he says at last.

«What?»

«You are a person,» Aximili says.  «You love human rock music.  You have more tells than a ten-day aristh when you tail-fight, and nevertheless manage to win every fight in spite of, or perhaps because of, your unconventional technique.  You almost whacked your own stalks on a low branch yesterday while feeding in the dome.  You fell in love with a human.  You snore.»  He looks out the viewscreen, sighing.  «Elfangor... War-Prince Elfangor... is a legend.  A Dome ship.  An inspiration.  A statue in our shipyard.  Prince Elfangor isn’t clumsy, or nerdy, or anything.  Because he’s not really a person at all.»

Elfangor digests that for several minutes, staring out at the stars.  He thinks he’s a little afraid of this legend.  That he’s afraid of the implications, if the legend really was just a guy like him.

Elfangor doesn’t ask what are you going to do with me.  Doesn’t tell Aximili I want to go home.  Aximili knows, and he can’t do anything about it.  He has an entire ship to run, and almost a hundred warriors to look out for.  Babysitting an aristh is no job for a captain, especially not one on perhaps the most dangerous mission left to the entire Andalite Navy.  They’re hunting an entire ship’s worth of morph-capable controllers, dodging norshk pirates, skirting the hairy edge of kelbrid space.  The other warriors on the ship, even Aximili, seem to consider the whole thing a grand adventure, and everyone seems to expect that Elfangor will want a piece of the action.  Elfangor wants to be done with the war.  It already killed him once, destroyed his life a dozen times; he wants nothing to do with chasing the last of its ragged edges.

Almost a week later, Aximili drops a call invite to Elfangor’s quarters.  It’s a z-space comm link between the Intrepid and a distant planet.

Elfangor feels a chill of unease when the link lights up.  One holo shows Aximili, but the other shows a male human with dirty-blond hair and soft grey eyes.

He doesn’t need the identifier at the bottom of the screen.  He knows who Tobias is, and Tobias knows him.  They stare at each other, at a loss.

«Why don’t you explain what you were telling me,» Ax says at last, breaking the moment.

“Oh yeah, funny story.”  Tobias shifts, shoulders hunching.  Birdlike.  “Prince Elfangor’s still legally dead.  But Alan Fangor, Yale graduate, former Microsoft programmer, resident of the state of California?  We looked into it, and that guy’s still got a Social Security number, a bank account, and a slightly-expired driver’s license.  He owes some back taxes, but we could handle that.”

Elfangor looks at him and Aximili both.  «You’re suggesting...?»

“Only if you want to,” Tobias says quickly.  “And only for as long as you want.  And obviously there’s no reason you would want to.  It was just a suggestion.”

I want, Elfangor thinks, to be anywhere — anywhere at all — that isn’t a sunsforsaken battleship.

He looks at Aximili.  «How far are we from Earth?»

In the shuttle on the way down to the planet, Elfangor thinks he can see some of his own bad influence.  Aximili’s piloting technique is atrocious — he looks at the controls, ignores warning parameters, uses incorrect commands — and yet the inter-atmosphere transition and eventual landing are some of the smoothest Elfangor has ever experienced.  Aximili is talented, even more so for being halfway self-taught.

There are over a dozen humans standing on the landing pad when the ship sets down in the courtyard of the military base, but two step forward from the crowd.  Up close, Tobias looks to be about Elfangor’s own age in human years.  The woman beside him is familiar and yet not, wearing the middle-aged version of Loren’s features.  Elfangor feels his knees lock, and almost stumbles in the doorway.  He’s not sure he can do this.

“Ax-Man!” Tobias says.  “Only gonna be gone for six of our months, huh?”  He spreads strong human arms.  “You haven’t forgotten what an Earth month is, have you?”

Aximili steps past Elfangor, rushing to perform a human embrace with Tobias that involves briefly squeezing their arms around each other.  «You are at greater risk of such an error than I am, my friend.  You know perfectly well that the delay was unavoidable.»

“We’ll overlook it this time.”  Tobias smiles.  “Anyway, welcome to Zone 91, a place that you have definitely never been before under any circumstances.”

«Of course not.»  Aximili is smiling as well.  «Entering Zone 91 without the proper human authorization would have been illegal, and also ill-advised.»

Shorms, Elfangor thinks, watching them.  He’s surprised by a pang of envy.  They’re so clearly family to each other, his son and his brother, and he’s only just met them both.

Loren’s watching them both from across the way.  The longing on her face, he realizes, is just the same.

There’s paperwork.  A surprising amount.  The human authorities are apparently willing to tolerate his existence on Earth, but only after a frustrating amount of documentation. Tobias opts out of all of it, simply disappearing into the sky above during a moment of distraction.

It’s strange, doubly so, when Elfangor remembers that Tobias is demorphing rather than simply morphing to become a bird.  He’s heard what everyone says about nothlits on the homeworld — and he’d believed it, too.  Believed that Arbron was better off dead than taxxon.  And yet Arbron had outlived him by over five years.  Had done more to end the war than Elfangor himself had ever accomplished.

And Tobias is... Not what he’d expected, once he’d gotten over the triple surprise of you have a son — he’s an alien — he’s a nothlit.  Tobias acts as ambassador between the hork-bajir and human authorities.  Tobias has lives in two worlds — three?  Four?  He has a house in a human city, and a meadow out in the wilds.  He becomes an identical copy of Aximili and they race each other across the desert outside, arriving wild and breathless as children while Elfangor and Loren take the far more sedate ride back to civilization in the Army transport Jeep.

For the first time — or maybe the second — Elfangor thinks he can see the appeal in giving up andalite shape forever.

Tobias becomes human again once they’re dropped off, morphing with the same breathtaking speed that Aximili demonstrates.  He leads them through the downtown of a city that has skrit na hawking exotic wares on street corners, gedds shouldering through its crowds, hork-bajir hopping between the roofs of skyscrapers, andalite tourists clustered outside an establishment called Krispy Kreme.  Elfangor looks in all directions at once like a tourist himself, startled that such a place could exist.

“Alientown, California,” Loren comments, when she sees him looking.  “Not its real name, but that’s what everyone calls it.”

«We don’t have anything like this.  Anywhere in the galaxy,» Elfangor says.  «Not where — when — I come from.»

“Blame the Animorphs,” she says, raising her eyebrows at where Tobias and Ax push ahead.  “Although I guess Alloran was pretty instrumental in negotiating the treaties as well.”

Elfangor shakes his head.  He’s never going to stop being surprised, he’s concluded.  He’ll just have to get used to a state of perpetual shock, because this is his life now.  Or he’d like it to be.

When they reach the house, Tobias barely have time to pull the front door open before two different quadrupedal aliens rush outside.  Loren laughs as the larger one rears back and starts licking her face.  Tobias dives to catch the smaller one, scooping it into his arms.  “Dude, Dude, we’ve talked about this,” Tobias croons, cradling the creature.  “You eat birds, birds eat you, it’s a bad deal all around if you don’t stay inside.  You’re an invasive species, bud.  And also really easy to spot from overhead.”

“Down, Champ.”  Loren gently shoves the other animal back onto all four paws.  “You know, I had to have an entire mostly-civil conversation with my skeevy sister’s even skeevier ex to get you that cat,” she tells Tobias.  “And this is how you repay me, by teaching my dog bad manners.”

“He’s retired.”  Tobias buries his chin in the cat’s fur.  “Bad manners and lapsed training are his prerogative.”

“Sorry,” Loren tells Elfangor, shooing both him and the dog inside.  “It’s not normally this...”  She shrugs.  “Chaotic?”

“Since when?��� a different human asks, as they step inside.  She’s female, if Elfangor reads her hair and clothing correctly, and moves around using a wheeled apparatus with a small motor.

“This is Kelly,” Loren says.  “And Erica —”  A different human waves from the next room over — “And Elena’s visiting her boyfriend last I heard, but she’ll be back soon, and she also has a dog.”

“I’m with Kelly on this one,” Tobias says.  “Never not chaotic.”  He smiles at Elfangor, still holding the furry cat-thing.  “We didn’t mean to start a collection of stray Animorphs and veteran pets, honestly.”

Loren brings Elfangor through to a room that has screened windows on three sides opening onto their backyard, most of the human furniture pushed to one side.  “The room’s yours for as long as you want,” she tells him.  “We put Ax out here, but he’s away a lot, so it’s yours.  Everyone else tends to go in and out, so I’m afraid there’s not much quiet, but...”  She shrugs.  “Welcome.”

He’s a long way away from the scoop where he grew up.  He’s half-forgotten already what he’d wished for, shaking palms pressed against the most powerful machine in the known galaxy.  He’s in a strange house, a strange city, surrounded by aliens.

«Thank you,» he says, and, «If it’s all right with you, I’d like to stay.»

[unnursvanablog]

The TV shows I watched in 2020 / part 2.

Episodes I finished: 😊

Snowpiercer: I wasn't sure if it could live up to the movie and in my opinion it didn't even get close to it. I wasn't into the murder mystery. After a few episodes I was just watching it with one eye.

The Last Kingdom: What can I say, I'm incredibly fond of period shows. The Last Kingdom managed to tell a very contained story within each series that always managed to grab me and I had to know what happened next, while also raising the stakes for the next seasons and so on. I found this part of British history new and exciting and I liked the strategy and the comradery that we got to see here. This show is incredibly male centric tho and does fall into the traps that can come with that, which can be annoying.

Maximilium: Epic and sad. I really want to watch more period shows, and just shows in general, that is not contained to like British history or medieval fantasy inspired from that part of Europe. I really liked this show, I found it really pretty to watch and really well excecated.

Was it Love?: In my opinion this drama started of well. It was just some fluffy comedy with a ridiculous plot and I was just having a great time with it. But then over time, the episodes just got more frustrating and boring and so did the characters. It takes a bit of a skill to have four guys fighting for the attention and love of the main character and none of them end up being a good option.

It's Okay not to be Okay: unfortunately I thought the story here was stretched a bit too far, even though the basic story was cool and interesting. And that led to me not enjoying it. Most of the supporting characters were boring to me and therefor I got bored watching their filler scenes and product placements just so these episodes could be over an hour long. The story was not long enough to fill in every episode and it just dragged on.

Flower of Evil: I was amazed at how much I ended up loving this drama. It normally not the type of thing I go for. They were dramatic, dark and very emotional and I never knew what was going to happen, it kept me on the edge of the seat all the time. I loved it.

Cursed: this show had a really great idea, it tried to do something new with the Arthur legend. But they just weren't well written at all and just end up being a pretty big fantasy clich��.

The Medici: Masters of Florence: Neither the second nor the third series reached the same heights as the first one did for me. But still, this is a good period show. I just do not find the main character in the second and third series that interesting. He kinda irks me.

Ottoman - Rise of an Empire: A really fun and informative tv show / documentary. I knew little about the Ottoman Empire so I found it very exciting. And I do like battle strategies.

Record of Youth: I wanted to get so much more from this drama than I got. I cared so little about most of the character and even the ones I did care about didn't seem to do much towards the end. A little too slow for me, the plot wasn't interesting and I'm tired of some kdramas saying that they are about these two or more characters, but then just focus on the male character and the female lead is just there for the romance. It was a waste of both my time and Park So Dam's time.

The War of the World: A very interesting sci-fi period piece. Really well done, would have liked a better ending that answered all the questions I had, but I enjoyed the ride a lot.

The School Nurse Files: These episodes were so weird, but I mean it in a good way. I felt like I was watching a long and weird Doctor Who episode from the Russell T Davies era. They sometimes felt a little bit confusing and would have liked if the story was a bit more concise.

Lovecraft Country: This became this odd blend of horror, fantasy-adventure tale and then some sci-fi - Some of these episodes gave me a little Indiana Jones feel, which I enjoyed. At times it felt all over the place, yet it did serve a purpose. I expected more horror if anything, as I had been told it was really scary, but then I didn't really get scared. Maybe because I'm not the targed audience for these shows, as a white person from Europe. Really interesting show tho. Well worth the hype.

The Haunting of Hill House: Very cool show. I really enjoyed how each episode just raised the bar and you could start to see the story more clearer and better with every passing episode. And seeing how the house affected this family throughout their lives while we got to know the characters and their backstory was brilliant. You hate and love and understand almost every single character, as they all have their own baggage to carry. Really well made horror.

The Haunting of Bly Manor: eh, I felt like they never reached the same heights as the previous series. The story wasn't as captivating, the horror not that great, and I had already seen where the story was going long before it happened.

La Révolution: The story started slowly, but there was a really cool mystery at the center of it and this escalating tension that really just grabbed you and pulled you along. I also just really like a lot of the character. I thought it was a very interesting take on the French Revolution, and the horror elements surprised me in a really good way. I like period dramas that have horror elements to them. It's just a mix of two things I like. Visually it was stunning, it was well crafted, well acted and I'm excited to see more of there is more.

The Tale of the Nine Tailed: There was something about this drama that just didn't capture my heart, although I think the idea is cool and I really enjoyed how myths and other things were woven into the story. It always felt like it was trying a bit too hard to be like Goblin, you could see the influence there, and it just left me a little cold. The second leads and their story were also just a lot more interesting than the main ones. I got quite bored like half way through it.

Private Lives: I really liked this drama in the beginning. I loved how much it centered around the female characters and the story seemed cool. It sometimes jumped between timelines, which I did not like and I don't think it helped too much with the mystery. And once the more political aspect of the mystery started to creep in I found myself not as into it. And I wanted more comradery.

Birthcare Center: Cute and quite silly, but in a good way. It's really short, only 8 episodes in total, so it never dragged. I loved the whole cast and the dynamics that the character had and I felt like it did talk about some important topics about motherhood and the expectations set on women - says I who is completely childless. I enjoyed it, but I was not incredibly into it either.

The Crown: I don't think I have enjoyed this show as much as this season. In this season I had someone to root for and someone to emotionally connection to. A lot of the characters in this show are interesting, but very cold and distant, and I find it hard to relate to them, which can make it hard for me to fully get invested. But Diana was absolutely the heart and soul of this season and I loved her. The show needed her.

Queen's Gambit: I've never found chess interesting until I watched it in this show. I found it amazing how these episodes managed to create a whole story about chess tournaments and how it affected all of these characters. Amazing story, the characters were complex, and each episode just became more and more exciting and interesting.

Barbarians: I shall say it again! I love historical shows and period dramas. It isn't anything new under the sun, it feels a bit like other period shows such as Vikings, but I enjoyed it. I felt the story grew with each episode, with the first episodes being a bit more formulaic as they were setting up the story. But each episode always ended in a way that I just wanted to know more, there was something that grabbed me and I had to watch the next episode.

Sweet Home: quite a fun horror, and I usually really like how Korea does horror so while it did hit some sweet spots it also does follow some of the common apocalypses and horror tropes and I did think it brought too many new things o the table when it comes to these stories. I felt like a lot of episodes sort of lacked tension and just fell a bit flat.

Bridgeton: I love a costume dramas, especially like these romantic ones, with a hint of humor and a whole lot of yearning. I have a tendency to fall into such stories and people's lives, although it seems rather frivolous and unexciting to people who don't enjoy this romance. I sympathized so much with these characters and their ridiculous lives. I couldn't stop watching this show and it became all I thought about over the days I was watching it. There is something new about it, but it still rather familiar and maybe not as progressive as you might want at all times. For me, the main romance lost me a bit towards the end, but it was a great fun.

Show I did not finish: ☹

OCN Train: I am sure it was a well made show, I have not heard any bad review about it, just not the kind of drama that is really for me or to my taste. If I am suppose to watch and enjoy these types of show it sort of needs to do something amazing for me to be hooked into a murder mystery.

The Devil Punisher: I decided to try watching a drama from Taiwan again, since I had not done so for years and year. And although I thought the idea was cool, the first episodes were rather long-winded, all over the place and really about everything and nothing at the same time. So I just gave up.

Run On: I could actually feel it from the first episodes that this drama was not for me. Just not the kind of story that I am into at the moment. Mostly just about the lives of the people in it, but there is no bigger plot that pulls you forward. Too slow and light and not really about that much.

[cozycryptidcorner]

Here is a monster match for the wonderful @rofax! 

“Aquarius Sun/Virgo Moon/Taurus Rising. Little bit of an astrology nerd. I like to learn about it. I also think it’s totally made up and makes no logical/scientific sense, but is also right basically 100% of the time. Idk how much you know about astrology but basically I am an eccentric bitch who wants to save the world, is emotionally precise and perfectionist, and seems to really like material things and food! WAHOO. People say my sense of humor is the best thing about me and/or I make them laugh the most, big old bleeding heart, especially for animals. Easily overstimulated ): Anxiety and ADHD are a bitch lol. No self esteem to speak of. I am an atrocity before god. Speaking of: very quiet convert to and practitioner of old (would now be considered) pagan faith. Multiple gods, ancestor worship, local spirits, etc.”

You have been matched with a Huldrekall, the shy, beautiful male counterpart of the alluring Huldra. Contrary to popular belief brought to you by the patriarchy, the Huldrekall are not, in fact, shriveled and disgusting to look at, it’s just that straight men don’t like feeling sexually threatened, not even by forest spirits that they don’t ever see. Like the females, the Huldrekall are almost intangibly beautiful, with soft, glossy hair and large, innocent eyes, and have mossy, hollowed out backs. While they might easily cover up their backs with clothing, the tails are a bit less easy to hide, as the Huldrekall and Huldras use them for balance, and thus must shift them about while moving.

Like other forest spirits, the Huldra and Huldrekall can be found among the trees at a reasonable distance from human society. Oh, they do sometimes come out of their hiding places, put on a dress, and mingle, in the guise of a mysterious visitor or a passing traveler, but their home will always be back in the forest, no matter how many broken hearts they might leave behind. Besides the occasional affair, the Huldra and Huldrekall have a symbiotic relationship with coal burners, as they are willing to watch over the kilns at night in exchange for human food and the occasional piece of clothing. The coal burners don’t get the privilege of seeing their helpers, though, but sleep easy knowing their equipment is being cared for.

Shockingly, the Huldra and Huldrekall seem to respond well to things like good manners, polite exchanges, and positive interactions, almost like they are people with thoughts and opinions of their own. Though, when crossed, the Huldra and Huldrekall are terrifying when they want to be, merciless, cold, just as a human who has been horribly slighted might act. You think that their kind are, well, people, though that’s not what the fear-mongering, power-hungry humans would have anyone believe. Despite the lower, working-class people out in the country knowing better, the city folk are quick to think that what is unknown must be evil.

You met your Huldrekall while you were out gathering herbs and flowers, deep within the forest. He was laying out in the sun on a large tree root, back towards the sky, face nestled in his arms. It takes you exactly three seconds to realize what you’re looking at before you manage to step on a stray stick, the noise snapping loud enough to make your hair stand on end. Your Huldrekall sits up like a shot, his wide, sparkling eyes a light, dusty magenta, and he looks at you, fear dancing across his face, but something else, too. Curiosity? Fascination? You can’t tell before he scampers his tall but lithe body up the tree and through the leaves, hiding from you in the greenery, yet still clearly present as you try to go about your day.

Your Huldrekall follows you as you try to focus on the herbs you need, clinging to the bark of the trees like a child might hang on their mother. At first, you try ignoring him, thinking that he’s only keeping an eye on you because of fear, but there doesn’t seem to be a single essence of tenseness in his body as he slides down from one branch to another. While you focus solely on pretending to not notice his movements, he slowly, tentatively approaches, you can feel his unabashed stare burning through your back. Still, you don’t turn around, nor give him any hint that you know that he is there, because a part of you is just as interested in him as he seemingly is in you, and you don’t want to scare him off.

While you can hear him stiffen every time you accidentally make a move too sudden for his comfort, you don’t realize how close to you he really is until you risk a glance over your shoulder. He’s right there, balanced carefully on a low hanging branch, watching you work with fascinated eyes. He also doesn’t run when he catches you looking at him, either, which you suppose is a step in the right direction, he only flinches back ever so slightly. But he’s still there.

You have to go back home eventually, even though you would like for a moment so magical as this to continue on. As you walk back to the forest’s edge, your friend disappears along the way, slinking back through the trees. You don’t even know that he’s gone until you turn around to look for him, finding nothing more than the grass and leaves, and you feel… well, disappointed, you suppose, but unsurprised. Still, your work will have you back in the forest to forage again soon enough, and a part of you hopes that you will see him when that time comes.

He finds you when it does come, in the dusty rose of the early twilight sky, looking for the petal of a particular flower that only blooms during the first light of dawn. Your Huldrekall approaches with more openness this time around, no longer poised and ready flee. There are times when he is… very close, looking over your shoulder, cheek almost touching yours, becoming more and more difficult to ignore. Almost as though he’s suddenly decided to demand attention, yet is still too shy to put anything to words.

You’re on your knees, fingers digging through the ground in search of certain roots. He’s mirroring you, sitting across the thicket, hands carefully to the side as he watches you work. Absentmindedly, you begin speaking, not really sure what to do with yourself or the strange silence. “This is used for joint pain, you grind it up into a paste, then rub it in the inflamed areas.”

“Really?” He asks, the first thing he ever says to you. His voice is smooth, soft, like a sip of cool water on a hot day, and a little tingle runs down your spine.

“Y-yes,” you manage to gain your footing again, “it can ease stomach pains too if chewed and swallowed in low quantities.”

He’s a quick learner, you’ll give him that. It probably helps that his curiosity seems insatiable, and once he starts talking, he shows no signs of stopping. The chatting isn’t unwelcome, though, and you find him to be a good conversationalist, despite his immediate lack of knowledge of anything outside the forest. Well, he actually has much information when it comes to the ancient magic of the trees themselves, even showing you how to gently tease a bit of energy from the bark if needed. Prayers must be said before and after, as the spirits of the forest don’t take kindly to pillaging.

Your Huldrekall is remarkably bright, too, able to pick up your tips and tricks with little to no trouble, able to remember just about everything that comes out of your mouth. All the little remedies and medicines you make don’t seem to matter much to him or his kind, though, because of their little magic tricks that seem to do the same, just in a different manner of execution. Still, though, he’s interested in “human way of things,” as he calls it, copying your work as you forage and search for different plants. One day, though, you go home and find a little bouquet of plants tied together with a vine, a collection that you don’t remember assembling.

You’ve started making a pretty penny selling roots and herbs from the deeper center of the forest since your kind doesn’t like going very far passed the outlying trees. Thanks to your magical guide, though, you’re able to venture out much deeper than you might risk by yourself, without having to worry about finding your way back. You could blindfold your Huldrekall, shake him about, and drag him through the trees and vines for miles, and he’d still be able to lead you back to the village where you live. It’s rather convenient, you suppose, but you don’t let anyone know just how easy it is for you, people pay you more if you act like you almost died by some giant, carnivorous flower mere hours before.

The gifts keep appearing. No longer in your basket, sometimes you find a pretty stone or dried blossom in your pockets, now, too, and though you try to figure out how he managed to slip them there without noticing, you can’t. You keep everything in a little box, pressing any flowers carefully between books of medicine, and polishing the stones if you get the chance. After letting the gifts pile up a bit, you decide to return the favor, getting a little knick-knack that you’ve kept lying around your home. You don’t really have anything you can slip it in since your Huldrekall is… well, naked, so you cut out the third party and give him the gift point-blank.

He’s enthralled by it, and by the seeming lack of shyness on your part. Even though it’s just a little cheap object you’ve managed to pick up sometime in your past, he acts like it might be worth its weight in gold. While you don’t really know what he does with it, you suppose that he must have a nest of some kind, but after that day, you begin to see more of his kind out of the corner of your eye. Up in the trees, hiding between leaves, watching with careful, weary eyes. Like him, though, they warm up to you eventually, some taking longer than others.

You fell asleep, perhaps by accident, one evening. Last night and the night before had been late ones, so your brain is clouded and your movements sluggish. In your head, you only meant to lay among the flowers for a few moments, just to restore a bit of your strength, but after you open your eyes, the sun is in an entirely different position in the sky. Your Huldrekall is nearby, sitting atop a log, his vulnerable back facing you as he plays lookout. He looks back when he hears you stirring, offering a reassuring, sweet smile. You lay your head back down and continue resting, feeling the warmth of safety emanating from him.

Sometime after that, he started to gently tug at your hand when you leave the forest, a little, reassuring squeeze, one that you don’t find unwelcome. Once, he follows you through the town, wearing fairly clean clothes from god knows where, and spends the night at your home. People look and people talk, but no one’s whispers bother you or your business, and they sure as hell don’t bother your Huldrekall. His spirit is free and magnetic, those same people who would demonize you for fraternizing outside your species soon become enthralled in his stories and words. Maybe you are a little jealous of all the attention he gets, but he makes it clear that he only has eyes for you. 

The old gods in the forest are long forgotten by man, but not by your Huldrekall or his kind. They do a sort of worship that must have existed since the dawn of time, dancing and singing towards the moon whenever it is full. You get invited soon after your acceptance by his people, and even though you are nothing more than a quiet, interested viewer at first, that is quick to change. Eventually, you end up holding hands with other Huldra, aiming your face towards the sky and singing a hymn made with a language so old that the words themselves hold power.

[itsdaggerandsheath]

An Introduction to Sex (Part 2)

               To be quite honest with you, I don’t know when Fanfiction first really became popular or mainstream, nor do I know if it’s still those things. What I do know though was that it was a huge influence on my knowledge of sexuality as I was growing up. A good chunk of my education on sex as an… ”activity”, rather than solely a means of reproduction, came from Fanfiction.

               It’s occurring to me that perhaps some people reading this may not know what Fanfiction is, so I suppose I should attempt to explain it before I really get on with the story.

               Have you ever watched a TV show and really wished that your two favorite characters would just fall in love already?! With Fanfiction, you can write your own perfect story on how you picture that special moment happening, then publish it online for other people to read. Have you ever had a massive celebrity crush that you just wish would notice you? You can write a Fanfiction all about said celebrity falling for a character based on you! Anything goes with Fanfiction, really. Do you think the singer of your favorite band is into BDSM? Write a fic about them tying you up and ass-fucking you (or a character that you come up with) until the ropes make your wrists bleed. What about a disturbingly specific and detailed fic about your favorite band members squirting milk up the bottom’s asshole to clean out for anal sex (with more emphasis on the milk than the sex itself)? Yup, that exists. What about a fic involving your favorite YouTubers in which a live hamster is shoved up the sub’s asshole and the dom fills an entire hat with semen? Yes, it’s out there. (Bonus points to anyone who knows which fics I’m referring to).

               While some Fanfictions are wonderfully crafted love stories full of heart and passion, others…aren’t. And hey, smut is fine, I’ve read *cough* and written *cough* plenty of it myself. But surely, you would think, that the more explicit Fanfictions wouldn’t be accessible to those under the age in which it would be appropriate to read them, right?

               Wrong.

               I was eleven years old.

               I’d first come to discover Fanfiction through my favorite Disney television show at the time, Austin and Ally. Yes, that show that Ross Lynch was on. It was my favorite show in my tweens, and I wanted the two main characters – Austin and Ally, obviously – to end up becoming a couple so badly. My original goal was to see if maybe the writers of the show had hinted at the possibility of the two characters becoming a couple in an interview or something. So, I pulled out my phone – because my parents thought it was smart to let an eleven year old have a cellphone with full Internet access – and simply typed in, “When will Austin and Ally get together?”

               I did not find an interview with the show’s writers – instead, I found chatrooms, wiki forums, and YouTube videos from young people like myself who all had the same opinions on the subject as myself. I then clicked on a link that I thought was just going to be a post on some website from someone talking about how they wanted these characters to end up together like I did, but it was actually a link to a story on Fanfiction.net that I read and finished in the same day. From then on, I was hooked.

               Now, right away, I noticed that these stories had a rating system. I’m not sure if the rating system for Fanfiction.net has changed at all since it’s been years since I’ve been on there, but at the time, it was something like rated G, PG, T, and M (there might have been a T+ in between T and M, but I don’t remember). As I was eleven at the time, I stuck to the G and PG stories. Who would write rated M stories about a Disney show anyway? Oh, how naïve I was.

               One day, I read the summary for a new story that sounded exciting, so I opened it up without looking at the rating or the word count. All I saw was how many people at commented, so I figured it was a popular story that a lot of people liked! Turns out, it was a 300-word one-shot (meaning, it was a single chapter) consisting of Ally naked on her knees saying “please” over and over again while Austin rubs one out and eventually comes all over her face.

               I would like to issue a formal apology to Ross Lynch and Laura Marano.

               Seeing as I was eleven, I was traumatized, and was extra careful from then on (for a while, at least) to always check if the story was rated M.

               I was just so confused. I’d grown up being told that touching yourself was wrong, so why was there a one-shot about it on Fanfiction. And why did he do it on her face?! Such a concept had been unheard of to me at the time (because I was eleven). I was disgusted. I felt sick. I felt dirty. I felt wrong.

               I felt curious.

               But I was so afraid that I’d read something else strange or that I’d never known people to do sexually, I was afraid of what I’d learn, that despite my curiosity, I didn’t intentionally click on a rated M fic again until I was twelve. By this time, I’d had my first period and a few more, so I’d officially began puberty and became even more curious about sexuality. So, I began to search specifically for rated M Fanfictions because I wanted to know more about what sex was like and I was too scared to watch porn (we’ll get to that in Part 3).

               What I experienced while I read these sex scenes was something new, exciting. Why did I feel a throbbing sensation in my vulva? Why was I getting a tingling sensation like I had to pee? Why was my underwear getting wet? As I continued to read more and more of this erotic Fanfiction, I read about the female characters feeling similar sensations when they were feeling “aroused” or “horny”, which were new words for me. Why did I have to learn this through Fanfiction rather than in school?

               I then showed my new discovery to all my friends (of course). I remember when my entire cheerleading team had a sleepover, I’d told two of my closest friends on the team that I’d found Fanfiction with sex in it. Later that night, as the three of us lay in our sleeping bags with me in the middle, we huddled together to read the erotica on my phone. I remember them asking me things like, “How do girls come?”, “What does *insert word here* mean?” and “How does *insert sexual act here* work?”. I remember I loved telling them what I knew, like I had some fantastic, secret knowledge, and that it was my duty to share it with everyone I knew my age. So, I did. Soon all my friends were reading smutty Fanfictions.

               While still in my Disney phase, I ventured into the world of gay and lesbian fics as well. I didn’t know how sexual encounters worked between those of the same sex worked, so I read them more so out of curiosity rather than in search for arousal. However, I found that they aroused me anyway. I remember the first time I read a lesbian Fanfiction wishing I was in the characters’ shoes (I hadn’t realized I was bisexual yet, but that was a decent indicator), and then I read a fic with a threesome between two men and a woman and wondered why I hadn’t read it sooner.

               Why hadn’t I learned how same-sex couples have sex at all in school? Why didn’t I learn that males having sex with other males should still use condoms? Or that females having sex with other females should use dental dams? Why did I have to learn about these through Fanfiction of all things?

               By age fourteen, I had graduated from Austin and Ally and Fanfiction.net, and I eventually moved into my emo phase where I ventured into the world of band fics on Wattpad (I would also like to issue a formal apology to Chris Motionless and all of Motionless in White). It was here that I learned about BDSM – and Tumblr, but we’ll talk about that in Part 3. I was reading Wattpad stories about my favorite band, Motionless in White, and I’m pretty sure in every sex scene I ever read involving a girl and one of the band members (I mostly stuck to the ones about Chris because I adore him to this day) had mentions of spanking or some other form of impact play, and bondage was also seen very often, and occasionally a ball gag here and there. A common fantasy, it would seem, among young girls from all over the world who were probably far too young to be writing out such fantasies about men in their thirties. Oh yeah, sexual Fanfiction is plenty toxic too. I was fourteen reading brutal sex scenes about men who were way older than me, and a lot of the rougher/BDSM-esque fics were written in a way that made it seem like the sub was actually being raped as opposed to consenting to what was going on.

               Luckily, I saw this pretty quickly and knew that it was wrong, and I made sure to stop reading a Fanfiction if it seemed to be portraying rape in a romantic light. It’s likely that the person who wrote the Fanfiction didn’t intentionally mean to make the “sex” scene look like rape (although, having a girl scream “No, I don’t want to!” but then all of the sudden enjoying it once the guy forces himself inside of her should very obviously be seen was wrong), and they were just uneducated.

               And then, by age 16, I began reading exclusively gay Fanfiction about my favorite YouTubers, Dan Howell and Phil Lester – who I will not be issuing a formal apology to because they have stated that they whole-heartedly support Fanfiction, and have even gone as far as to read Fanfiction about themselves in videos, write Fanfiction about themselves for their book, and perform a parody of a Fanfiction about them live on stage in front of thousands of people. So. Anyway. I learned a lot about butt sex. Do you think they teach you about lube in school? Nah. But I learned about it from gay YouTuber Fanfiction.

               In Part 3 (which will be the last part of this series) I’ll discuss how websites like Tumblr and YouTube shaped my views on sexuality before I actually started having sex, and both the positive and negative impacts they had on me. In the meantime, have you ever read an extremely sexual Fanfiction that lowkey traumatized you? Did you get the most of your sex education from a probably-not-reliable-source like I did? Tell me your stories in the comments, or feel free to message me on Instagram @daggerandsheath

               I love you all and thank you so much for reading!

-          Dagger and Sheath

[fakesurprise]

One Evening, and What Followed After

I spotted the lights on in the fourth floor window of the apartment half a black from the building. And as simple as that, everything shifted. The building. An apartment. No longer the place I’d lived in for over two years. I didn’t break stride as I walked, hands still deep within my pockets. It could be nothing, but no one survives on could be. I walked past the building and halfway down the block. The moon was a faint sliver in a clouded sky, the air heavy with the promise of snow. It was the quiet and dark of an early November as I moved into one narrow street and down a side alley. Rats behind garabage moving away. The impressions left by a homeless man sleeping in a doorway. Faint sounds of TVs from open windows. I heard both ER and Roseanne playing through closed windows nearby. The neighbourhood was small apartments and quiet houses. No sirens within a four block radius.

Everything was as quiet and boring as I preferred.

I took a deep breath, double checked that no one was following or watching me, and a moment later drifted up into the darkness and through the air to the apartment. Everything is diffused when one is a mist: vision becomes hazy, smell and taste almost the same thing. Hearing remains, though my range is diminished; I could improve it all had I not brought my clothing with me, but that was far less wise.

I had a small stash in a tree trunk outside town, enough for a few months in another city. With the funds in the apartment it was enough for a new ID as well. Without it, I would be stuck being Wilbur Tanner. Not a name I liked, but if I’d learned anything since the change it was to pick names close to my deadname. If I had died at all.

I shoved all the thoughts borne of worry aside and slipped in through the opened crack in the bathroom window. The apartment was not large. Small kitchen, bathroom, a living area with couch and bed, one single dresser, a tiny closet. It was clean and quiet, on the top floor of the building and if I had to I could go right through the walls to get into the hallway.

You learn to consider such options when you haven’t aged since 1982.

I enter slowly, diffusing more until I would be barely visible as a haze in the air near the ceiling.

Four people. Two male, two female. And one dog.

The dog growls, barely loud enough for people to hear him.

Only cats are comfortable around me.

“See? We’re fine,” one of the woman says as I move into the living area. “I can’t believe you convinced us to break into his home, Sh –.”

“Norville.” One of the men, his voice flat and hard.

“Norville. Look. Fred brought his dog, followed that sweater from the club. Confirmed it was this apartment.” She is smoking, waving the cigarette like a conductor, nails gleaming with a manicure more expensive than my rent.

The one called Norville is in the kitchen. “I said there is something off about him. Look at this kitchen. The fridge has food, but the oven is spotless and almost no dish even used!”

“Dude.” The other man is holding the growling dog without a hint of authority. Short, chubby and worried. “We broke into his home. Wilbur might be odd, but this is breaking the law!”

“The place is clean enough for a serial killer,” the other woman says as she comes out of the kitchen. She is bored; some of that is Valium. Not as wealthy as the other woman, but she wishes she was. I suspect they’re cousins.

The one with the dog is named Thomas, not Fred. He’s clearly only here because he was promised food. The wealthy woman’s family own a few restaurants, and conversation fractures between them. All are tense, worried, listening for sounds in the hallway.

I could arrive outside my apartment, if they have no one watching. Could bluff them into leaving. Two men. Two women. One dog. None has a wooden stake, no hint of garlic to them.

I am being hunted by a quartet of idiots who watched too much Scooby Doo. It would be funny, except it never is.

And there is something off. Even as a mist, I feel the hairs on my non-existent neck rise.

The fourth one – Norville – comes out of the kitchen. Tall and thin, thick glasses balanced on his nose. He looks like a scrap of nothing, but he holds their attention, was able to draw them here.

The dog is growling at him. Not me.

I swear.

No one noticed, since mists don’t make sounds. The dog is briefly distracted by the wind.

Norville has influence, far more than his age and demanour suggest. He is wearing a thick leather jacket two sizes too large. Under it is a book. I can feel it, now than I’m trying to.

As thought it was hidden.

There are alien harmonics in the air.

Something is deeply wrong here, and I have no idea what it is.

“Vi, you folded his sweater and put it back into his dresser,” the chubby guy says.

The rich woman gives him a stare. “I do know how to fold laundry. It is best we leave.”

But even so, she waits on Norville. They all do.

I have no idea what the book is. Or what it does.

I leave, out the window and to another alley. Reform.

I don’t feel the cold. I haven’t since June 11th, 1982. But my hands are shaking as I look down at him, and for once I imagine I must look as pale as people think vampires do.

Is four people a coven? Is this magic? Is magic actually real?

I have no idea. And no one to ask. I start walking. My fault, for joining everyone from the factory at a club last night. Also for hunting earlier; I was too full of energy to kill four people at once, even if I was so inclined. I could kill them in mundane ways, but that book put even that solution from my head.

I knew I should go to the club, get information on them. Find out what they were, if possible.

But every instinct whispered for me to run, and I hurried out of the city before they became a scream.

I had wanted others like me to exist, maybe. But other weird things I had not considered at all.

Some days I thought I was all that. A decade a vampire, never caught.

Most days were like today, where I was amazed I was still alive.

I could stay. Confront Norvile. Ask more questions.

Instead i walk faster. Still seeming casual. Nor running. Someone out on a nighttime jaunt toward the edge of the city.

No one to pay attention to. No one important.

I ran, once it felt safe. Burned off energy drawn from people. Made myself hungry. Sharpened myself to being dangerous.

No one followed, or if they did they never found me.

It was almost two years later that I realized that Norville was the real name of Shaggy.

And it left me with even more questions, and less of a desire for answers.

Because for all the book did, they’d still made fun of him.

As if they knew something about him that he never knew.

I tried to tell myself it was a foolish idea, but it persisted like pinstripe clothing had. What if they did know nothing. What if they made him real, by accident? What if that could happen.

And what if I was somehow that as well?

Drugs don’t work on me like they do on humans.

I spent most of 1996 trying to invalidate that truth.

[nadziejastar]

That’s exactly how it felt to me, too. KH3 was written with fan desires in mind, so Lea only cared about Roxas and Xion, even though it was out of character for him. Which is stupid and also sad. It spits in the face of all the important themes of the series. I mean, Kingdom Hearts is all about reuniting with lost friends and never giving up. Sora meets Donald and Goofy and makes countless friends in all the Disney worlds. But for all of KH1 and 2, Sora is looking for Riku and Kairi. Nobody can ever replace them. They are his very best friends from childhood. Donald and Goody are great. They always have Sora’s back. He gets the most screen time with them. 

Sora: You can never forget your true buddies.

But…Riku and Kairi were the carrot on the stick. Sora kept journeying to eventually reunite with them. He can make new friends, but they can never replace his old ones. In my opinion, Roxas and Xion were Axel’s Donald and Goofy. They are very important to Sora. But at the end of the day, he’s going home to Destiny Islands with Riku and Kairi, not them. Realistically speaking, Roxas and Xion can’t replace Isa, nor would they want to. He’s known them for a single year. The way Lea and Isa were handled in KH3 was the equivalent of Sora deciding it’s too much of a hassle to find Riku and Kairi and deciding he’s going to forget about them and move to Disney Castle with Donald and Goofy. 

Isa and Lea’s relationship was very interesting to me because they weren’t even part of a trio. They were just a duo. Isa was basically Lea’s Riku AND Kairi. He was Lea’s Riku, his best friend who was lost in the darkness. Sora never gave up on Riku. He was able to see him even when he looked like “Ansem”. Lea left to wield the Keyblade to find Isa, even after everything Saïx had done. He never wanted to give up on his best friend. 

Xemnas: But then, through Roxas, Sora himself began to shape "it" into "her," giving Xion a sense of identity. Our plan seemed like a failure at this point... But then it occurred to me. Xion is keeping Sora's memories trapped by claiming them as her own. Keeping her close to Roxas will ultimately prevent Sora from ever waking. 

I’d say Isa was also Lea’s Kairi. The scene and quote above is from Day 299 ~Sora~. It’s the only scene in Days that took place in the Hall of Empty Melodies, and the scene is framed so similarly to Sora’s reunion. Lea/Isa was just depicted differently compared to all of the other male/male friendships in the game. There was no female in the picture. Isa was the most important person to Lea. In Castle Oblivion, Sora’s most precious memories were of Kairi. These memories are used to manipulate him. Axel’s most precious memories are from his past—of Isa. Saïx took the place of Isa and Axel was manipulated by Xemnas using these memories. 

Axel: Does it hurt, Naminé? Watching your two childhood friends fight all because of you? You have my sympathies. From the heart.

Isa being Norted was important to Lea’s character arc in SO many ways. He was the motivation for Lea to wield the Keyblade and should have been the person he used the power of waking on. But he also was fundamental to Lea’s redemption arc, too. I actually liked the fact that Axel was not a purely “good” character. He had a side to him that was pretty dark. And he’s a better character that way. 

Roxas: Who is Sora?

Xemnas: He’s the connection.

But it only works if he has a very tragic backstory, where he was forced to join the Organization. I mean, he was willing to kill Naminé without hesitation. He knew it was wrong, too. He was just so angry that he didn’t care. Subject X just makes Lea look worse. If he cared so much about a random teenage girl, why did he not care about Naminé, who was just as much a captive of the Organization as Subject X? 

Kairi: Oh, and by “us,” I mean me and Lea. He’s really sorry for all the trouble he caused. I told him it’s fine, but he won’t stop apologizing. I’ll admit I was a little scared of him at first, but I’ve gotten to know him better. All he ever wanted was to help his friend. Honestly, it’s hard not to like him. 

Every now and then, I catch him staring at me. When I ask what’s wrong, he says, “I’m not sure. I think I’m forgetting something. Don’t know what.” Sora, I think it may have something to do with you. Your journey is all about helping people: some that you’ve never met before, and some like Lea that you have. They’re all counting on you.

Kairi is right. Axel is a LOT more sympathetic if you think he was abducted, experimented on, turned into a Nobody against his will, and was just trying to help his childhood best friend the whole time he was in Organization XIII. It’s really easy to forgive everything he did in that context and it’s hard not to like him. Story-wise, Lea’s entire basis for being a Guardian of Light hinged on his connection to Sora. Axel had a lot in common with Sora, and he started to change in Castle Oblivion.

Lea: Promises to keep. I’ll always be there to get my friends back. What, bad timing?

Isa was a vessel. Lea saved Sora from becoming one, because he was looking for Isa. Riku almost became a vessel, too. It’s why he looked like “Ansem”. That provides a strong connection to Sora. Lea’s connection to Sora (and Riku and Kairi) was pretty much irrelevant in KH3. Kairi kinda hinted at something in the beginning, but it was dropped. I do think Kairi was talking about Isa in her letter originally. I’m sure Lea would have told everyone about him after KH3D. Lea’s motivation to become a wielder doesn’t really make sense otherwise. Kairi said that helping his friend was all Lea ever wanted. But Axel only knew Roxas a relatively short time. I’d hardly say that helping Roxas was “all he ever wanted”.

Without Isa, Axel had little excuse for not going along with Roxas when he left the Organization. If he was so lonely, why did he wait until Roxas disappeared to betray Xemnas? Especially after 358/2 Days made such a big deal about how they’re best friends and inseparable. Without Roxas, the Organization can’t actually complete Kingdom Hearts, anyways. So he didn’t even stay because he wanted to get his heart back. Yet, Lea would just give up on Isa so quickly and only care about Roxas and Xion as soon as he learned he was a vessel? It’s so out-of-character, it’s a joke.

Saïx: I passed on the message as you so desired. I told the young Sora to keep defeating the Heartless.

Xemnas: Good. Not only have you the power to inflict pain, you also have the power to plant seeds of doubt in one’s receptive heart. Sora will soon begin to doubt himself. It will cause him to hesitate and that hesitation will turn to anger. That anger will fuel him to get rid of his apprehension and move forward. He will pave the way for the future we desire.

Saïx: There’s something I’ve meant to ask.

Xemnas: About Axel? The poor fool. How long will he keep chasing the illusion of friendship, when he himself lacks emotion? Trying so hard to retrieve what he has lost, when it may never have existed in the first place. He deserves nothing more than our pity.

Almost all the connections between Sora and Axel that had been set up years in advance were wasted. It went back all the way to KH2FM+. Saïx first interacts with Sora in Twilight Town. He was following Xemnas’ orders to inform Sora of their plan. Kairi is also kidnapped after this.

Axel: Hmm, true, but…I don’t think that’s quite the same. I guess the closest thing we Nobodies have got is our past. You know, memories of the stuff we couldn’t bear to lose, back when we couldn’t bear to lose it.

It’s strongly hinted here that Axel was trying to recover his relationship with Isa. It was something he lost but that never existed in the first place. Which is exactly what happened when Saïx called him “Lea” on Day 299 ~Sora~.

Saïx slowly turned and looked down at him. “If it’s Kairi you’re worried about, don’t. We’re taking very good care of her.”

“Let me see her.”

“Is she that important to you?”

“More than anything.” Sora clenched his fists. He had to see Kairi, no matter what it took.

“Show me how important.”

Sora lowered his eyes for a moment, and then quietly knelt down, his head bowed low. “Please.”

“So, you really do care for her,” Saïx mused. “In that case…absolutely not.”

Sora sprang to his feet again. “You rotten—”

The plan was for Sora to channel his anger by taking out more Heartless.

“Are you angry? Do you hate me? Then take that rage and bring it down upon the Heartless.” Saïx snapped his fingers, and an array of Heartless appeared one by one behind him.

And Xemnas’s plan worked. Sora wanted to rescue Kairi, but defeating Heartless was exactly what the Organization wanted. His anger and doubt made him more determined than ever.

The trio quickly assumed their fighting stances, as Saïx went on with a low monologue. “Pitiful Heartless, mindlessly collecting hearts. And yet they know not the true power of what they hold. The rage of the Keyblade releases those hearts. They gather in darkness, masterless and free…until they weave together to form Kingdom Hearts. And when that time comes at last, we can truly exist.”

He almost sounded as though he were reciting an incantation.

Then Saïx says his famous line. Or incantation. “Pitiful Heartless…”

“So it’s a step above best friends?”

“No—it’s not about steps.”

Roxas looked bewildered. As he’d expected, he wasn’t doing a very good job explaining it.

“Not that it matters. We’ll never know the difference.”

Roxas wouldn’t let it go. “Do you think we would, if we had hearts?”

“Once Kingdom Hearts is complete, I bet you’ll be able to figure it out.” The magic words again, Axel thought. It’ll all make sense when Kingdom Hearts is complete. But was that true?

No one had ever seen it happen before. So who knew?

Still, all they could do was believe in it.

Pitiful Heartless, mindlessly collecting hearts…

The Organization was kinda doing the same thing to Axel that they did to Sora. They exploited his doubt during the situation with Xion. And they also exploited the fact that he desperately wanted to see Isa again, like Sora wanted to see Kairi. 

Saïx: Sora knows the truth now. The more Heartless that he defeats, the closer he is to becoming our perfect puppet. This new knowledge will make him that much harder to control.

Axel would channel his doubt and anger by focusing on completing Kingdom Hearts, just as Xemnas wanted. He was doing it out of love. And in the novel, they even used Saïx’s phrase when Roxas and Axel were talking about love. “Pitiful Heartless…”

Xaldin: Our work here is done, Roxas. The beast’s weakness is clear.

Roxas: It is?

Xaldin: To hold something dear is to let it hold you. His heart is in thrall to it, don’t you see? And that, Roxas, is ample weakness.

It was always hinted that Axel would know what Xaldin meant.

Xaldin: Trust no one. Feed your anger! Only anger will keep you strong.

Xaldin wanted to turn the Beast into a Heartless.

Beast: Xaldin… that’s his name. He came from the darkness… He…used my anger to control me. He took all my sorrow, my sadness, my pain—and turned it all into rage. There was nothing I could do… I could no longer see the truth.

He stole what was most important to the Beast to fuel his rage.

Kairi: What are you going to do with us?

Saïx: You’re the fire that feeds Sora’s anger.

Kairi: No… Sora’s in danger because of me…

Perhaps they were going for this idea with Lea, too. Kairi was important to Sora, which is why she was kidnapped. She was the fire that fed his anger. Saïx had Kairi imprisoned, but Isa was just as much a prisoner of the Organization as she was. Isa was most likely the fire that fed Lea’s anger. And Axel had a LOT of anger over what happened in his past. You could see it when he killed Vexen and Zexion. There must have been some backstory to how he became an assassin. Lea’s relationship with Isa fully explains Axel’s rage and hatred, making him easy to forgive. 

Xaldin: You don’t need a heart to know how to manipulate one. Remember that.

On Day 152 ~The Wrong Button~, Xaldin says this in the Grey Room, and it’s probably not just a throwaway line, since manipulating hearts was apparently a defining aspect of Dilan’s character. It’s quite similar to what Saïx said in KH2 about injuring a heart, actually.

He flashed her a smile. “I know we have separate missions, but I bet if we team up, we’ll finish faster.”

Would that work? Maybe it would.

“Well…okay,” Xion replied. “I guess if we get done early, we’ll have more time for our ice cream.”

It reminded her of something. This almost feels like before… Like when I couldn’t use the Keyblade. Roxas is always helping me.

Xion felt weak and useless for relying on Roxas so much. She started to avoid him around Day 152. Eventually she sacrificed herself to protect him.

“Did something happen?”

“Not really…”

He’s a bad liar. I can pick it straight away. But, I guess that isn’t concrete proof that something did happen. Something must have happened that Roxas didn’t understand the reason for either, thought Axel. An emotion somewhere in my memories.

In the novel, Lea said he remembered the feeling of something happening that he didn’t understand the reason for. Maybe Isa thought Lea was in danger because of him and that’s why he asked him not to help him out anymore and started acting weird, like Xion did with Roxas. There’s a lot of hints that something happened where Isa wanted to protect Lea and sacrificed himself for him. It even fits his Mystery Gear, too. Maybe Isa was going to be used to fire Lea’s anger, and Isa was afraid Lea would be turned into a Heartless because of him? Who knows.

“Say, don’t you want to become the real thing?”

The Replica had accepted Axel’s offer, and now they were headed down into the bowels of Castle Oblivion.

Vexen had devised the scheme with the Replica, and Axel still didn’t entirely understand whether it had succeeded or failed. But he figured there would still be some use for the puppet.

Given the right memories, the Replica could mimic the powers of the original. Which meant that if he were implanted with somebody else’s memories, he would, hypothetically, gain other powers. Somebody’s—or maybe even a Nobody’s.

He had one particular Nobody in mind. All the members of the Organization were still influenced by the memories of their human lives.

But I think Xaldin was the one Axel was talking about here. He’s a pretty likely candidate, I’d say. Especially after 358/2 Days connected him to Axel so often. Axel never actually interacted with Xaldin, and Dilan was conveniently absent in KH3D. But he probably was supposed to eventually. They were saving it for later, I guess.

[souroukaizenhoublogblr-blog]

Causes of Premature Ejaculation

To begin with, if you just experienced an episode of premature ejaculation for the first time in your life, you might want to just skip this article. The causes of rapid climaxing are many and varied, and sometimes in his life, a man will drop prey to one or another of them. To put it differently, premature ejaculation, even in a healthy male, is not that unusual or uncommon. However , if you are regularly experiencing this affliction, and some have been experiencing it for years, knowing the causes of premature ejaculation may possibly be the first action to affecting a cure for premature ejaculation. It may help to know that you are not alone! It is often estimated that 20% of males between the ages of 18 and 59 are regularly afflicted with the problem. So , what causes premature ejaculation in or else apparently healthy males in the prime of their sexual lives? Do they have got some strange virus or not curable disease, or are they just nut products? Well, research does show that the root causes of premature ejaculation are usually psychological, but that does not mean you are nuts, nor that only a shrink cure you. In fact , so much IS known in regards to the subject that there are many techniques and plenty of advice available for a little practical self-help. Apparently, premature ejaculation is mainly the result of a fear of sexual failing. This is very often linked to erectile dysfunction, which is also often treatable either through medications like Viagra or Cialis, or via improvements in physical or psychological condition. Slightly complicating any discussion of the causes of premature ejaculation is the fact that "premature" is a hazy concept, and any kind of orgasm or ejaculation can be termed "premature" if it occurs before the two parties (usually two, but a single never knows these days) want it to. There is no concrete medical regular for a time limit that distinguishes the "premature" ejaculation from... well, an adult one, I guess! However , premature usually means that both parties are disappointed with all the result. Of course , this can be complicated by the fact that women take longer to achieve full sexual arousal and the female climax can often occur long after even a non-premature ejaculating male has given up plus fired his only shot. It really is easy in this situation for a guy to take what may be a relatively little problem and make it bigger (poor choice of words). This is an example of one way in which a certain amount of easily treatable difficulty can begin to loom big in the mind of the man, thereby encouraging the condition to get worse. So , while the sexual partner may not be the reason for premature ejaculation, the sexual partner can be a definite help in constructing a "cure" for premature ejaculation. Understanding and support on their part, coupled with a willingness to be an active participant in the treatment, which can be fun for both, will help make or break the effort for improvement, just like a real or imagined negative a reaction to a real instance of premature ejaculation may increase the problem. However , since the issue could conceivably occur during a solitary masturbation session, we still have to find the causes of premature ejaculation and some remedies for premature ejaculation. One piece of evidence that doctors use to determine the possible causes of premature ejaculation is whether it really is what is termed "primary" or "secondary". Primary means that the problem has existed during the sexually active life from the man, and secondary means that they have begun to occur after a period of relatively normal sexual activity. As stated earlier, reasons behind premature ejaculation are often psychological in nature: 1 . Early childhood experiences which usually provoked fear of discovery during masturbation, by way of example might still be causing trouble. 2 . Encountering a particularly negative family mindset towards sex during your childhood could cause you to "rush" to complete sexual activity since you feel it is "dirty" or not allowed. 3. Impotence, while itself normally a treatable physical condition, may create a sensation of need to "get it done" before you lose your erection. 4. Problems and worries about health, money, relationships, or any sort of stress in your life, may trigger an event or series of events. 5. As hinted at above, negative reactions from a sexual partner can also precipitate the problem in what would otherwise be an usually happy, sexually fulfilled male. Just like be imagined, once the event offers occurred, it is not unrealistic to imagine this becoming so focused upon by the man that it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, no matter what its cause or its strength or frequency. The other main reasons behind premature ejaculation are certain medications, but these are rare. Bad news: Really in your head! Good news: It's treatable! Alright, after reviewing the list of probable causes above, it becomes obvious that you can possibly deal with the problem yourself. In fact, it's not like you need surgery or are going to die from it. In fact the major medical problems associated with premature ejaculation are usually that it may be related to a more severe condition or it may have an impact upon fertility. Other than that, the damage is mainly accomplished to your ego, and your relationship along with your sexual partner. If some negative experience has had an impact on your sexual performance, finding that and facing it may be all that is required. If you are experiencing impotence, getting that treated may help the problem.   If you have any kind of inquiries concerning exactly where and the best way to use 早漏の改善方法, you possibly can call us from the site. If you have a higher level of stress, dealing with those issues or taking up some sort of relaxation process such as meditation might do the trick. There are various references available online or even in your general public library which can help you make a well informed decision as to your personal causes of premature ejaculation and the possible means of changing the situation. On the other hand, it may be too complicated for you to handle yourself, or may involve medical conditions which need to be dealt with at a professional level. Whether your choice for specialist is your family doctor, a psychologist, or perhaps a psychiatrist, read the list again plus realize that you may be asked to divulge some very sensitive information about all your lovemaking experiences, your home life as a child and as an adult, your relationships with your moms and dads and other family members, your health... the list goes on. The experts will need you to honestly and totally divulge all such information, so be prepared before you go in to see them. In fact , don't just be mentally plus emotionally prepared to "get it done". Instead, delve deeply into your background, thoughts, and feelings before the go to for forgotten events, experiences, plus feelings which may be relevant. We have all already been asked by a doctor in less trying situations if there was anything at all wrong and replied that all had been fine or gave a small listing of problems, only to think of several a lot more once we had left the office. For any doctor or other professional to help you, you will have to have as much information accessible as possible for them to assess and work with. As pointed out previously, the willing and understanding assistance of your sexual partner can be invaluable in something that is done in hope of creating a cure intended for premature ejaculation. The causes of premature ejaculation can be varied and intertwined. If you cannot figure this out or solve it on your own and/or with the help of your sexual companion, there are certain techniques and medications which can help. some of these techniques can be discovered from the many available reference components or through a little judicious research on the Internet. Medical intervention will, naturally , require a doctor's assistance.  

[angelkurenai]

Wolves - Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Title: Wolves

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,449

Summary: After managing to escape from the demons that captured you, you try to find your Alpha again; fighting your way back to him through all of the hardships that arise from a heat without him to other Alphas around. When you fear you’re near death youre only companion will be a couple of wolves that will inevitably bring you to your destination. With Dean making a promise about the future you could never imagine. Inspired by the song and music video of “Wolves” by Selena Gomez.

You watched numbly as the blood dripped from your hands. Droplet by droplet, you watched with hazy eyes as if it all got slower and slower to the point you could count the time in between. And with every drop you felt your heart rate slow down even more, you were more surprised how it was still beating in the first place after everything. Your eyes followed the droplet as it fell on the old pool, mixing with the water before it vanished. And there came another one.

Your eyes were still burning but as much as you wished you could cry more, there just were no tears left anymore. You were shivering, the cool abandoned pool with all the broken doors and windows doing nothing to hold back the cold air made goosebumps form all over your wet skin. You had tried to wash away as much of the dry blood as you could, not caring if you got all of your clothes wet, the dress you had specifically worn for your date with Dean before it all went to hell, because of how desperate you were to wash away all the torture you'd had to endure. But the memories were too fresh, and despite having been able to escape the demons you knew the state you were left in would not be able to get washed away no matter what you did. Proof how your wounds were still an angry red and most of them were bleeding.

You wished you could take care of them but you had no strength in you left anymore. Running for days in the woods away from that old warehouse, got so excited when you found small towns and ran past alleys in case you could find a way to contact Dean or even by some higher power find him there, looking for you as well, but people would either ignore you or shut you out on purpose no matter how much you pleaded with them for help. You were only left to walk into this abandoned high school on the other end of the small town, close to the woods, and cry as much as you could while most importantly isolating yourself from any Alpha that wanted to take advantage of you. 

Not that you cared anymore, you were so emotionally numb from both all the torture and missing your Alpha to care about anything else. Just as much physically because of the wounds, cuts and stabs inflicted by the monsters that held you – you still couldn't even remember how you'd been able to kill the bastards and ran away – and because of the heat crawling inside you and begging for your mate.

You couldn't get him, you couldn't find him, no matter how much you struggled and fought to get back to him and that thought killed you.

You heard rustling and movement and your eyes instantly widened and you jumped in your place. You pushed your wet hair aside and looked around you in alert, fear and panic clouding the small dying spark of hope that the older hunter would find you. As much faith as you had in both the Winchesters, it had been days since you got kidnapped you wouldn't blame them if they took you for dead... despite how much it simply broke your heart to know he would give up on you. You touched the mark on your neck, looking around in alarm and your heart leapt to your throat when you were met with the animal before you.

You crawled backwards until your back hit the piled wall, all the while the big grey wolf looked at you curiously. It took a couple slow steps towards you and as much as you wanted to dart towards the exit you knew you'd stand no chance because of how faster it was. You brought your knees to your chest and hugged them close, a tear rolling down your cheek despite everything. The creature got closer to you, neither growling nor making a single sound but looking closely at you. For a second it stopped jut a few feet away from you and you thought it would attack you but when it turned its head, you spotted another nearly black wolf approach it, nuzzling its nose against the first ones.

When the both of them started approaching you, you held your breath thinking that this was probably the way you were going to go. Away from your mate, and before you could tell him everything that you wanted, everything about-

You blinked in surprise when you noticed the first wolf carefully lay next to and nuzzle to your side, providing you with as much warmth as it could as the second one layed down protectively next to it. Another tear rolled down your cheek and a broken sob left your lips as you layed down to them, needing as much warmth as you could get.

“At least you have your Alpha next to you.” you whispered, the animal not really paying attention.

The warmth they both provided you along with the physical and emotional exhaustion lulled you to sleep, darkness clouding your vision before you could comprehend it. It was what felt only like a second before shuffling and moving, along with growling and nudging that brought you back to your senses. With a small groan you opened your eyes, blinking several times and looking around you.

“What's...” you frowned, your throat hurting with even the small effort. Of course you didn't expect an answer from the wolf but when it started nudging you and pushing you with its head, you felt the familiar sense of fear wash over you as when the demons first caught you. If there was one thing your mother always told you to trust in wolves was their sense of danger and their need to protect their pack and each other. Sometimes you wished humans could have inherited that instead of the Alpha, Beta and Omega dynamics.

You held onto the one that had first approached you, trying to support yourself because the moment you tried to get up on your feet, your legs felt wobbly and gave out. It tried to help you put most of your weight on its back and as it helped you make your way towards one of the exits. You realized the other one, the male, was standing at the other exit growling aggressively as if someone was coming from that way.

Losing your focus for a moment your hand slipped and, no longer being able to hold onto its fur you fell down; a broken sob leaving your lips. The wolf instantly turned to you, nudging with its head and letting a small whine but all you did was struggle to breathe as your ribs hurt and more blood pooled around you. The wolf instantly perked up and the second ran to your side to stand in front of the both of you protectively, growling in hostility. Despite the tears in your eyes you looked up to notice a shadow round the corner and the first hint of scent you got of the person verified your fear: Alpha.

“Whoa” a gruff voice was the first thing you heard “Easy there, Lassie.” but he got a louder growl from the male wolf in response “Ok ok I get it, not a fan. Not a fan.” but there was something, other than the gruffness of the voice and other than the teasing tone and specific choice of words. There was something about the scent.

Your eyes, which you had not even realized were closed, fluttered open and although you could hardly see from where you were laying on the floor past the big furry wolves you could smell it and you knew it just like the back of your hand.

“A-Alpha?” you whimpered, crawling as much as you could past the female wolf to get a small glimpse of the only man you craved to see even if for one last time.

Dean's back straightened, all of his senses on high alert and he took a step forward before he could think about it; which immediately got the wolves' attention. He stopped raising his hands in surrender before putting his gun away “Omega?” he asked in hoarse voice and despite how much it physically hurt you, you smiled and gathered all of your strength to push yourself slightly up so he could have a better look at you.

“D” you whispered, tears streaming down your cheeks when you saw the tears well up in his eyes as well.

“Oh baby.” he choked out, rushing closer to you but stopped once the wolf got ready to attack him. You placed a hand on its back, rubbing softly.

“It's ok, it's all fine.” you whispered caringly, and it took a full minute but they seemed to relax at least a little bit and moving past them you made your way to Dean who only seemed to be holding his breath. He watched with wide eyes, wanting nothing more than to launch forward and gather you in his arms but couldn't because of the wild animals next to you; and all he did was wait until you were close enough to him, close enough for him to reach out and-

He instantly jump before he could comprehend what he was doing the moment the two wolves retreated and took hold of your arms to pull you into his chest and cradle your body in his arms. A broken sob left your lips and a trembling sigh left his as he did his best to fight back the tears that threatened to spill any given moment. The past days had been a torture for him as well, to say the least.

“Alpha” you whimpered, fisting his flannel as you desperately buried your face in the crook of his neck.

“I looked for you everywhere.” he tried to swallow the lump in his throat but it was nearly impossible “I lost all sleep, I got so worried, I thought- Fuck, Omega, I thought they did something to you.” his voice cracked at the end as he buried face in your hair and inhaled deeply. His heart skipped a beat in his chest painfully so, the relief shaking him to the core after all the fear and worry had left him numb in pain.

“I was fighting my way to get back to you, Dean. I couldn't- I wanted you back, I needed you. I- with my heat here I thought something would happen before I could see you again, before-” you struggled to breath “If it wasn't for them I- I wouldn't have survived in here.”

“Son of a bitch, 'Mega.” he choked out hoarsely “I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry you had to go through this- through all of this without me. I'm so-” a sob left his lips before he could stop it “I'm not worthy, you don't deserve an Alpha like me. I should have-”

“No, no please. Please, Alpha don't.” you whimpered “Don't say that. I want you, I have always wanted only you. And I did it all for you. I survived for you. I- I went through so much that I thought I was going to die before I ever saw you again and that-” you choked on a sob as you trembled in his arms.

“No, no baby. No, it's ok. It's all going to be ok, we'll stitch you up and you'll be back to health in no time. I'm here- hey, (Y/n).” he tried to comfort you but he noticed how you wouldn't stop shaking and sobbing in his chest, his heart breakeven more with every single tear that rolled down your cheeks “(Y/n) listen to me, please. (Y/n), damn it Omega.” he growled, using the Alpha voice to make you snap out of it and focus on him “Listen to me here. Calm down and take a deep breath. You are safe, I'm never going to let anything happen to you anymore, do you hear me? Alpha's gonna protect you, Alpha's always gonna be next to you, do you hear me? Alpha will take care of you, do you hear me? Do you believe me Omega?”

Sniffling and with a small whimper you pulled away and looked up at him with big glossy eyes “Y-Yes, Alpha.”

He smiled just barely, a tear rolling down his cheek, before you placed a hand on his cheek and you crashed your lips to his. Dean didn't miss a split second to respond and kissed you back with just as much love, desperation and need. You both craved the contact like you craved air, clinging onto each other as if clinging to dear life. The kiss was rough but it held such tenderness and care that you need no more proof to feel that he had been just as broken and hurt as you have been all this time.

“Happy one year anniversary, baby girl.” he whispered in a gruff voice as he pulled away only by an inch or two; his lips still touching yours softly as he rested his forehead against yours “I'm sorry I couldn't give you the anniversary you wanted.”

“Don't, just don't. It only matters that I have you here. We'll have time for plenty more anniversaries.” you whispered, pressing your lips against his in a chaste kiss “And I'll look less like shit.”

“We will, I promise we will. And you will look just as gorgeous.” he kissed your cheek “Stunning.” he kissed the other “Beautiful.” he kissed your lips lovingly “Because you look amazing in this dress.” one more kiss “And hopefully... with a different last name, next time.”

“Wh-what?” you blinked, voice hoarse but he shook his head with a soft smile.

“We'll talk about it later. Come on, let me take care of you, yes?” he kissed your forehead, placing an arm under your legs before lifting you in his arms “And let me practice.”

“On caring me bridal style?” you whispered and he gave you a small smile and wink, exhaustion showing nonetheless.

“That too.” he whispered, turning to look at the two wolves cuddled with each other before smiling softly “Thanks for taking care of her.”

And all you did was look at them with a gentle smile, resting your head on Dean's shoulder before he carried you out to the woods where the Impala was waiting... the last thing you heard before you drifted off to sweet sleep being the distant howling of both an Alpha and an Omega together. Together.

[zeciex]

Obsidian & Angelite Ch. 6 (M)

Oya has spend centuries bound to one single plot of land when one day a stranger with a voice of velvet and presence that can only be described as dark and outmost interesting. He comes with an offer she can’t refuse and suddenly her entire world changes, both for better and worse.

But what does Langdon need of her? And how can she use him to get what she want? Maybe they’re bound by something bigger than fate.

Warning: Dark themes, Strong Language, Rape,

A/N: Since tumblr kills everything with links, I’ll reblog this post with the links to previous chapters and archive link

When the spirit wanderers things does not go unseen

Placed on the bedside table were a thin yellow candle. It was the first thing that had been done as soon as she had settled in. The yellow candle with a matching flame were to be kept there, to be kept an eye on. It linked in with the spell she had placed on the old house so that if any supernatural being were to cross over into her land she’d know. For weeks now it had been lit.

And then it wasn't.

It left a gnawing feeling deep inside, something nagging at her to make her realise something. It was important and it was frightening.

And so she decided that a simple vision wouldn’t suffice. Visions were scattered, they were focused on snippets out of place and mostly they were left for interpretation. For simple visions like that you’d need to touch something that were there in the moment you needed to see. She had nothing.

So she began plucking herbs from her garden, crushed it in a mortar to release its juices. Mugwort for scrying, Star anise for clavoyance, Bay Leaf for its sanctity and visions all mixed together with soil from her garden, bone from a raven and ash from a burned oak. From it she derevied a small potion to be poured in a body of water and that’s exactly what she did.

The bath were filled up to a critical point, the potion mixed in long ago. In the water she drizzled Catnip, the green leafs floating at the surface, and essence of Eucalyptus for the rituality of its cleansing powers. Blossoms of blue rosemary and the stalks of it floated in the water too. It worked as purification. Whatever was on the other side, she’d rather not drag pieces of it with her, nor did she want to get lost to the inbetween.

“What are you doing?” Michael questioned leaning against the entrance of her bathroom with his arms folded over his chest. Oya remained on her knees, drawing symbols on the floor with white chalk. They looked like disfigured stick men or as if a 3 year old tried and failed to draw any form of animal.

“My place got a visitor,” she said while finishing up the last symbols. Michael had impeccable taste when it came to baths, this tub was perfect for these sort of things, standing at enough distance from everything else to make a circle around it. With the small bundles of herbs, in between the marks, were emeralds and moonstones placed. “Or visitors, I don't know yet but I intent to find out.”

“There are other ways to find out than this,” Michael commented. The way he looked at the set up told her that he had never seen or done anything like this and it made her wonder.

“This is how I learned to do it,” she brushed off her hands on her silk robes, standing up. She tied her hair up in a mess that made it look more like an unkempt bush than anything else, with stray tots falling down her neck. “Many of the herbs open up your mind and lets you wander through the inbetween, the symbols are for warding and protection as well as helping the door open and the stones helps with protecting energies. I’m sure the ritual has developed over the years but this is what I know, what I remember.”

Michael remained standing in the doorway, his face in an unreadable mask that she couldn’t quite see past. It almost seemed as if he wary of it. Maybe he had to be, walking through the inbetween weren't easy, if you were lead astray you’d remain atray. Even if you’ve done it before it could be dangerous.

The ritual she had done when she came here were one akin to this, and it left her drained and with bruises. Worse thing could happen.

But as with all other things, worse things could always happen, letting that stop you would effectively stop you from doing everything, anything.

A little thought planted itself deep in her mind, at the very outskirts. What if there were something he didn’t want her to see?

“Haven't you ever seen a ritual like this? Who taught you magic?”

“My teachers were far more focused on getting me through the seven wonders than to teach me witchcraft,” he said with a frown. Oya looked at him in surprise.

So his teachers had focused on passing the supreme tests rather than teaching ways to use his magic. Even if he were naturally gifted and incredibly clever, raw power like his could reach so much further if he had been taught the ancient crafts. Everything he knew he had taught himself, she realised. Like her.

She folded her arms over her chest like him. “Did they know?”

“That I was the antichrist? No, mostly they didn’t question my powers, they were far more occupied with making me the new supreme, the alpha,” he said with a hint of a smile on his lips that were quickly turned into a frown.

“A male supreme? Unlikely, history has shown that the only supremes that can exist is female. You’re the antichrist not a witch or a wizard or whatever they call themselves, the supremacy wouldn’t be passed to you.” There were something alarming about this mask of his, eyes forming a wild storm and by the way he withheld his tendrils of magic she knew she was on thin ice.

“It didn’t matter, I won, will win regardless.” She walked to him and caressed his cheek.

“Because you have devil juju on your side,” she teased trying to ease his demeanor. It helped, he dropped his arms and leaned into her touch. “And you also have a goddess who owes you a favor.”

Oya turned and felt his hands come to her shoulders, fingers slipping past neck and holding onto it as she stepped out of the silk, naked. He stood with her silk in hand, letting it fall over his arm for her to take when she returned from the bath.

She sunk into the warm waters, the already critical water line rising even higher. Warmth engulfed her body. Before sinking further into the water, she looked over at Michael who stood patiently outside the ritual circle and watched.

“How did you learn? Your teachers were as unlikely to teach you anything like this as mine were,” he asked.

“When you’re not the prodigy you tend to live in the shadows. I stole a whole lot of my mother's books and read them in secret. The things I remember are the rituals I now know, it’s by far everything but it is something,” she answered. Most of the rituals had ceased to work, things get forgotten over time or changed. What she knew she had worked for, she had tested her way through it and if it worked, well then it fucking worked.

Like many things throughout time pieces of magic dwindled. The gods that were had fallen and things changed. That was how time worked. Witches themselves are said to be going extinct, their blood beginning to run thin with magic.

Oppose to them, being a goddess meant you had the possibility of so much more and with that you were a threat, to be hunted and locked away.

Michael would fall into the same category, wouldn’t he? Or just maybe he had the fate of something bigger than one of the last gods on earth.

“Whatever happens do not break the circle before I resurfaces,” she warned moments before diving fully into the water.

Like before there was nothing to begin with. Then slowly she began forming in that nothingness. Everything above the waterline nibbling at her ankles were dry, her hair now free and falling over her naked body. Around her were the emptiness, the abyss. She hated this place, the thought of being trapped there for eternity send shivers down her spine. It was a perfect limbo of nothing.

Oya began to walk, invisible theaters guiding her towards where she needed to be. The soil helped with that, to keep her from going astray and focus on finding the path to her old prison.

She stopped and looked sideways. Even though there were nothing there, she felt her soul being pulled, the back of her mind hearing a whisper that so dearly wanted to be heard. It made her heart speed up in fear. The inbetween called to her and something inside wanted to follow, to see what it wanted to show, what that little part of her told her she needed to see.

Ripping her eyes from the spot of black she had been captured by, she continued to walk a straight line forward. Water became soil, still air became warm and windy, around her formed so familiar and haunting scenery that made her heart stop for a moment in fear that being released from this place had been a dream.

The fine rows of herbs had fallen victim to weed. It looked disheveled and messy, many of the plants now sporting withered parts if it had not died at all. The soil that she had always kept perfectly balanced with water were now dry. Time had really passed.

It wasn’t what she came for.

Oya looked up and observed as two hooded figures entered the premise with a wave of the hand. The spell she had placed on the house from keeping being robbed, broke, the bowl with dried old herbs breaking into. That was the moment her candle went out.

They walked silently through the garden and into her house, hoods still covering their faces. Oya followed at a distance, strangely fearful of their presence. The gnawing feeling returned as nausea, adrenalin beginning to spike in her blood as her heart began drumming. If they were who she thought they were…

One hooded figure revealed themselves. Black hair that were once kept long were now cut to the shoulder, small traces of silver shining through in the light. Her mother turned and revealed the fine turning of time had left small lines upon her face, around her mouth and eyes, and yet she looked youthful. Oya fell to her knees outside of the door, hands gripping onto the wall as a way to keep fast.

“How?” Questioned the other person, her voice soft and young. She pulled back her hood and revealed light blond hair in a braid, eyes that used to be black now a crystal blue. Her sister had much finer and friendlier features. Soft lips the color of pink and a kinder bow to her jaw.

“I don’t know,” Haesoo answered her daughter, bewildered by her other daughters disappearance. “The spell was meant to last, she shouldn’t have been able to break it.” “Maybe it wasn’t her that broke it,” Ina said and kicked at a pillow on the ground. She walked around the room, fingers trailing over everything in an attempt to bring forth a vision.

“There’s no one powerful enough for that,” Her mother voiced in frustration. Worry made her look older.

“What if there were a lot of them then? We were many when we bound her so what if it is a coven we have to look for and not an individual? Maybe the New Orleans coven were desperate enough.”

“It’s not,” Haesoo said and walked towards the cup placed on the table. His cup. She bend down and took it, eyes looking at it as if she read a book. Oya felt herself begin to shake, the tether between this place and her body getting pulled together. It wasn’t long before she had to return. “If it were a coven there’d be left a bigger imprint, of something recognizable. The residue here is… strange, dark. It’s an individual.”

“It's quite similar, isn't it?” Ina asked and came to stand beside her mother.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she clutched the cup and closed her eyes. “Whoever released her is darker than anything I've ever felt and far more dangerous. If they have her by their side then… We have to get her and we have to make sure she’s permanently incapable of being a threat.”

Haesoo turned and looked directly at Oya. No, not directly, through her. Nevertheless Oya felt as if the world pressed in on her, air not getting to her lungs. Scrambling back she fell off the porch in a mess of arms and legs. The ground only seemed to swallow her up just like the fear. She sank, fighting against the soil, hands grabbing onto clumps of dirt and leaves until her head was covered and everything went black.

“Why exactly is it so important to get the ginseng when it’s full moon?” Oya asked her sister that had somehow convinced her to join her on her trip up the mountains. Now they were surrounded by woods, the lights of the city gone, replaced with silver moonlight that only cast an eerie veil through the crown of the trees. She rode beside her sister, accompanied by two armed guards.

“It’s said that if you dig up the ginseng that grows on the side of a mountain in the light of a full moon it’ll improve its qualities,” Ina answered, steering her horse further up. “Mother wanted us to get it.”

“Is it because of what happened?” Oya couldn’t help but ask. Since that day things had been different and why shouldn't it? She killed an entire village. They say it was something in the water but in reality it was her. The power within her had lashed out, she had felt positively euphoric. Even she was afraid of what hid beneath her skin, the monster clawing at her insides, the darkness that wrapped around her soul.

Ina looked at her sister with strange sympathy. “She’s afraid you will lose control again, that’s why we moved.”

“I’m trying. I don’t know what more I can do. I didn’t want to kill them,” Oya pleaded and felt some sort of remorse over the lie. In truth it had scared her how indifferent she felt towards what happened, not the act it self.

“But you did,” Ina said with a cold voice that struck her. “We’re here.”

They unseated the horses and brushed the ruffles out on their skirts. Ina made the guards remain, her powers latching onto them and controlling their minds. Oya followed her sister out into the clearing, carrying the basket on her arm. She frowned, eyes looking for the plant but found nothing but a house surrounded by a stone fence.

“Wha-.” A hand wrapped around her from behind, the basket being ripped out away from her with force. Closing her eyes she searched for her powers but found them as subdued as she was, forced passed the stone fence, into an overgrown garden. In the middle were a table, one she was thrown against moments before hitting the ground. Pain broke through her head, the feeling as if it was split open, she screamed.

“Get her on to the table, we can only hold her powers so long,” a familiar voice shouted. Oya felt hands around her arms, lifting her up and onto the table. Rope were tied around her wrists and ankles but just for good measure she was held down with bruising force.

“Let go of me! Help! Ina!” She screamed for her sister, kicking with all she could against the restraints. A power forced her still, the only thing she could move was her eyes, frantically looking around through blurred tears. Her mother stood beside her, face of stone and eyes as cold as ice. Above her holding her wrists were her sister, with a worried frown on her face.

She wanted to scream her throat raw, to let her powers run through her with vengeance.

“Cut her hanbok off,” her mother ordered. All Oya could do was watch as her fine silk hanbok was cut through, the fabric torn off her body and leaving her revealed and bare to the world. Her heart stopped, the shame of being left so unprotected clutching tightly around it.

She fought the magic stilling her, fought against its restraints until her body began to tremble. Around her gathered hooded figures with lit candles in their hands. They chanted lowly, the words seemingly making the air hum just like it did before a storm would tear through the skies.

“W-what?” was all she could get past her lips. With eyes as empty and cold as staring into a skull, her mother stood above her, knife catching the light of the moon.

“Mother,” Ina said before being stilled by their mothers cold snap of her eyes.

“We were fools for thinking that we should bring back gods,” her mother said. “We were greedy and foolish for thinking we could control something like that. You are by far my biggest regret and this…” Haesoo’s hands levitated above her daughters naked body, paled by the moon as if all colour had left the once sunkissed skin. “this will make sure you can never hurt anyone again. This is our way to make things right.”

Oya finally broke free of the spell that held her still. She screamed like a wolf in the night, the sound tearing through her throat with merciless claws. The rope burned her skin, dug in and left marks that felt like they’d never go away, and in a way they didn’t.

Haesoon began to chant, her words slurring into a language Oya didn't understand. Then her sister joined, her eyes never leaving her mother's form, even when her sister begged for her to help, begged to be released.

The surroundings began to blur into shadows and fine flames, the forms lengthening and twisting to something monstrous. The trees sang a sad song, one of pain and sorrow, maybe if was for her, maybe it sang of this very moment when Oya realised that the ones who should have loved her only saw her as a monster, saw her as something to be kept locked away with betrayal and bindings. Or just maybe it sang the song of all the souls she had taken from the world.

Warm liquid fell onto her body, drawing dark lines over pale skin, smearing and sticking to her. It turned freezing. Above her were now a dead snake hanging limp in her mother's grip, its blood spilled onto her body. Blood of the serpent, symbol of the goddess Ereshkigal, of her.

“Mother, please!” She cried but found her pleas were nothing but empty words to her mother. The screaming had left her throat raw, voice almost burned out of her but her tears kept coming, the tickled down the sides of her face. They meant nothing to them.

Her mother called in someone, one of the guards, that came to stop at her feet. Never had she called so loudly on her powers, never had she screamed into the abyss and found nothing. Never would she have thought that her own flesh and blood would do something like this.

She wanted to throw up, her stomach turning when his hands trailed up her legs and parted them for him. The pain were almost as bad as the betrayal, the uselessness she felt, the utter and total embarrassment. The pain resonated within her and she felt as if she was truely trapped. Burning chains formed around her, searing themselves into her skin with fine imprints.

There were nothing but pain, feeling half of her being ripped from her body, feeling bound to something agonizingly fragile. A part of her wished her dead, wished her gone from it all.

Another part of her burned with reckoning. It cursed them all, saw all those who had anything to do with her binding and rape to die a painful and slow death. She cursed their children and their children's children. She cursed their entire bloodline. But curses from someone who was split in two, whose powers were locked away, were nothing but words.

In a still moment where time slowed down, she looked into the darkness and found a boy the same age as she, with strange clothe and even stranger features. His hair were in golden tossels around his head, golden hair she had never seen before. Maybe he was a spirit, someone who’d help. Their eyes met, obsidian orbs meeting blue angelite. They were beautiful and they were sad.

Pain surged through her once more, feeling as if she were about to explode, she screamed and attempted to kick the man off, to tear her wrists from the bindings even if it tore off her skin.

In the end she was left entirely powerless. In the end she was left entirely alone.

In the end there were nothing but the seed of hate setting root.

In the end the boy haunted her.

With a jolt Oya sat up, water that had been still now violently spilling everywhere, the candles put out and knocked over with force, the herbs washed away and symbols cleaned off. She screamed despite the lack of air, body filled with a hollow pain while her mind was scattered to the then, the inbetween and the now.

She was still being suffocated in the soil, still screaming in the inbetween and in total pain in the now.

Michael had thrown the robe and rushed to her side, his arms sinking into the water and wrapped around her to keep her from sinking in once more. He shushed her with soft words, his hands coming around to hold her face up as she jittered in pain, lips quivering violently and eyes trying to focus.

“Oya! Oya!” He said, trying to calm her. “You’re back, you’re here, I’m here!”

The words she tried so forcefully to from in her mouth came out as strange stutters with no actual words forming. With her mind shattered like this everything felt out of place. She felt out of place.

His eyes were so blue. Angelite. She couldn’t remember were she’d seen them.

It took several moments before her body stopped sizing, before she felt in control of it enough to reach out to Michael. Her hands shook when they grabbed onto his jacket that had become soaked. The pain dwindled, her mind falling into place, leaving behind the then, the inbetween to fully be in the now.

Michael lifted her out of the water and cradled her against him. Without any concern to his attire he held her, softly brushing wet hair out of her face. He felt warm as always. She could hear his heart drum in his chest and slowly she found her way back, her own heart starting to beat with his.

“They’re alive,” she croaked. “They’re alive and they know I’m not there anymore.”

“They won’t be able to find you,” Michael reassured.  There were something there, something pulling at the corners of his sincerity, something that nudged the doubt that had been planted in her. There was a carefulness.

She pushed away from him, hand on his chest. “Did you know? Did you know they were alive?”

“I had my-,” he started after being quiet a moment too long. How easily he lied.

“You knew.”

“Yes,” he admitted. Oya pushed away from him entirely, her skin getting in contact with the wet floor as she pushed over it until they were not touching anymore. There were a callousness to him, like there always were. Another mask, another layer, another shield.

Fear turned to anger and anger burned. It was there to begin with, simmering in the distance and always getting closer and now she were engulfed in it. Rage pure and simple, that left no room for fear or anxieties.

She hated them enough for her to go through him if she had to.

Her powers lashed out and pressed against him until he had scootered over the floor and pressed against the frame of the door. Lights began to flicker, a strange sound filling the room as a gash began to drag over the mirror while it vibrated. The air was windy with magic.

Michael’s eyes flared up with a familiar anger, one she had seen before on him. In contrast to her burning rage his was cold and contained. It made him far more frightening.

“You knew!” She hissed at him, hands balling against the floor so much that her nails cut into the skin of her palm.

Michael simply dried off drops of water before leaning to rest against the frame. Pieces of his hair was wet, the sleeves of his black jacket was wet, his pants were wet. His eyes were cold flames. “Yes, I knew.” He scoffed with cynicy.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you’d go after them without a second thought,” he answered with a cool drawl. They both stood, glaring at one another. The robe were supposed to bring her some warmth but none were to be found. It covered her up and yet the feeling of being bare lingered.

“You’re goddamn right!” She cursed at him. “You have no idea what they put me through. You couldn’t possibly understand what they did!”

“I understand betrayal, I’ve had my fair share of it,” he countered. Weather it was anger or attraction they always ended up being slowly pulled towards one another. Something about him was restrained, carefully concealed. He moved in an elegant way that no one else moved in. “Understand that it was-,”

“If you way it was for my own good I swear I’ll tear this house down with you in it,” she threatened. Weather she were able to fight Michael head on and survive would remain a mystery, the same goes for him. “Were you afraid I’d leave you?”

“No,” he said in an almost cruel way, slow and drawling, with his eyes narrowed at her. It shouldn’t have surprised her and it didn’t, but it did strike something.

“I want to watch them burn. I want to watch them suffer for what they did to me and you want to stop me,” she hissed and took a step back as he began to press her further back with his presence. It infuriated her, the way he always closed in on her as if she was prey.

“I don’t want to stop you.” His breath hit her face and tickled over her skin. “I want you to get your vengeance. You can leave whenever you want.”

Words that should seem reassuring felt quite opposite. The anger that filled her up ran down her cheeks as evidence, how weak it must seem. A goddess trembling with anger and painful tears tainting her cheeks. The pain lingered in her body and the memory of it haunted her. The shame haunted her.

“I didn’t tell you because you’d act rash. You’d let the anger consume you-,”

“And you wouldn’t let it consume you!” She yelled in frustration. Behind her spiderwebs formed as the mirror continued to vibrate, the lights flickering. The rage burned in her blood, made every breath she took feel strained and painful. It felt as if she’d lose control, even if she tried to remain as collected as Michael, the energy whirled around them.

“I’ve learned to think before I act, to take in every possibility and make plans for every outcome so that whatever that happens I’m the one in control.” He didn’t touch her but his hand followed the line of her cheekbone. “When you were in full control I’d tell you. So that you could think clearly.”

“What do you want from me, Michael?”

“I’ve told you. I want you to reach full potential,” he said with an ease unlike any other. If he lied she wouldn’t know and if he spoke the truth… It was hard to figure out if it were all part of a bigger game, of something she hadn’t yet realised or if it were something sincere. At times he were exactly what he showed her and at other time a cypher she couldn’t figure out. It was infuriating.

“And I want revenge.”

“Then take it but be clever,” he said. With carefulness he touched her cheek and dried off her tears. The fire that burned towards him burned out leaving dust and ashes behind, in the form of a hollow feeling. Pain lingered, however. The memoried burned into her mind.

“For the pain they have caused you I will make sure their stay in hell will be worse than they ever thought possible.”

Oya placed her hand over his and looked into his eyes with undoubtful determination. “In this I don’t need your help. However, I ask that you stay by my side as I take my revenge.”

“Seeing you take revenge would be my biggest pleasure.”

[sentryandco]

House of Lies

“I need more time.”

Arasen was trying his best to keep all contempt from his voice. He had practice with it over the years, but each time he had to “negotiate” with Kiratai, it had always ended in an extreme test of patience. Toragana was shrewd enough to bear witness to all the meetings between them, for Arasen dared not try something in her presence. While she was not as old or skilled as Siban, Toragana still had years of practice over Arasen.

Not that such a thing would grant any further clarity over the Sight.

If anything, it only entrenched the older udgans deeper into their traditions, making them rigid and single-minded. It was the elder voices amongst the shamans that continued this blood war between the two tribes. But Toragana, much like Siban, was different. They saw possibilities outside of the single path that was laid out before them.

Arasen should be thankful he supposed, for if it wasn’t her counsel to an influential warlord like Kiratai, he would never had an ally within the Jhungid. And despite what web of influence he himself had fostered over the years, all that had been accomplished so far would not have been possible without further aid from someone outside of the Kharlu. Even as patient and careful as he was, Arasen knew that he needed accomplices that would not fall under the auspice of his father or Bayanbataar.

But despite this alliance that defied the age old beliefs of their people, here Arasen was, again pleading his case. His frustration simmered behind his placid mask, his voice still never rising above a calm and reassuring tone.

“It is nearly done. She will return with me, any sun now, willingly.” Arasen’s amber eyes flitted between Kiratai and his udgan, then to the five other Jhungid around them. One stood next to the warlord, while two stood guard at either side of the cave they were in. They might still be in the isle of Shirogane, but Arasen had no doubt that these warriors would be able to dispatch of him quickly and silently should they deem him a threat, without a single Sekiseigumi being the wiser. Every time he was surrounded by the Jhungid, Arasen couldn’t help but recall the first time he had been lured out into that ruin. He'd nearly died. Those fears had long been dismissed, but the memory never quite left him, lingering in the furthest recesses of his mind.

“It has been moons already, son of Tugan.” Toragana narrowed her eyes on him, and the light silver limbal rings seemed to burn a bit brighter against her black irises. While his lighter eyes were set within the black tribal markings, her face was the opposite. White dots lined her dark brow, set like stars in the night against her near black complexion. It was almost an eerie sight, and Arasen couldn’t help but appreciate the intimidating appearance of it. Even if she called him by his father’s son, purposefully trying to dig under his skin.

Kiratai flicked a glance in the udgan’s direction, and Arasen knew that it was Toragana who needed convincing, not Kiratai. But he was astute enough to show deference first to the warlord, then to his udgan with a low nod.

“The lost daughter needs to come of her own accord, I’ve told you this,” Arasen reminded them patiently, yet again. “She needs to give herself willingly for the mark to be fully realized. And only then--”

“So were Siban’s words,” Toragana cut him off sharply. “That was her vision. But you and I know that the power is in the blood. The mark is only a tether. We can harness the power ourselves.”

“You saw what happened when we tried to recreate the mark using only blood. It was utter failure!” How could they be so blind? Arasen clenched his teeth to keep his temper at bay. It was greed for power that always made them arrogant. This was why they had always failed in generations past. None had the foresight. Or the patience.

“That was because none of them was gifted with the mark. She is the bearer.” The udgan sounded so sure, so confident.

“And what if we fail again? We can’t just feed her to the worm and start all over. This is our only chance we will have in our lifetime!” Arasen felt his mark starting to falter. All the females that have died so far, they were all Kharlu. The Jhungid had yet to bring an offering to the altar. They knew nothing of sacrifice. The warrior next to Kiratai brought his hand over his sword as if in warning, a sight that Arasen had become so accustomed to over the years. They have never trusted him, nor he them.

Toragana was about to retort, but Kiratai stepped forward, silencing the udgan. “You had enough time. Let her breathe the air of her homeland to be fully convinced, and be reminded of her path.” There was no changing the warlord’s mind, this Arasen saw in the Jhungid’s green eyes. “We have done it your way long enough. Sacrificed our own men in that attack outside of the Reunion. We could have killed your warden for what he did to my men. We let him recover here at your request.”

Kiratai stepped within ilms away from Arasen, his hissed words washing over the Kharlu’s face. “You’ve played your games long enough. Don’t think we don’t know about the escaped wife. I can pluck any of your pieces off, whenever I choose.”

Arasen bared his teeth. “I’ve already told you the use she will have. If you want to topple the powers within the Kharlu, she is essential.”

Kiratai held up a hand, silencing him with but a gesture. Arasen knew better than to contest his authority. How much this warlord reminded him of his own father… it brought a hint of bile to the back of his throat. He just had to remind himself yet again that the male was useful. A means to an end. For peace.

“We are leaving with the lost daughter. If she isn’t convinced yet, then you will make sure she is by the time we reach the ruins.” The warlord spun away from Arasen, unwilling to accept anything else other than silent obedience. “Send word to your people to make ready the preparations.”

Kiratai nodded to the Jhungid standing behind him, who returned the same and darted off toward one of the ends of the cave. With a single hand gesture, the three raced off into the streets of Shirogane. Toragana lingered a few moments, as her warlord exited the cave in the opposite direction.

“I thought you would have stepped out of Siban’s shadows by now,” the udgan said with a smug narrowing of her eyes.

“And I thought you stopped trying to prove yourself better than her,” Arasen shot back cooly, meeting her gaze with a venom of his own.

“Siban?” Toragana scoffed as she began to make her exit. “The old woman is dying and delirious. I have long passed her skills.”

“No,” Arasen called out after her. “Chanai.”

That stopped Toragana in her tracks but only for an instant. She said nothing as she resumed her pace a tick later, her stride more brisk than before.

But that jab gave Arasen little satisfaction. He had so little choice now, and the Jhungid was about to topple the careful house of lies he had erected. After waiting for what felt like forever, he finally started to make his own exit out of the cave, when another figure appeared to darken the mouth of it. Another Jhungid? Perhaps Kiratai finally decided to dispose of him? Wild thoughts began to swirl in his head. With Toragana’s interference, it was difficult to foresee what they would intend. But when Arasen approached closer, recognition began to settle upon his features, and his amber eyes widened.

“What were you doing here?” Batuhan asked in a voice that rumbled with both disbelief and suspicion. “What were you doing with the Jhungid?”

[thesydneyfeminists]

Joss Whedon and Vee: It’s Complicated

By: Vee H.

Here’s the thing, I have a confusing relationship with Joss Whedon. If we were “Facebook official” (does anyone still call it that, or have I just revealed my true spiritual age of 105?) our relationship status would be “it’s complicated”. It didn’t used to be like that; as a teenager, I probably would have said my favourite tv show was Buffy The Vampire Slayer, with its spin-off, Angel, in second place. I fell in love with a premise that Whedon certainly did not create (one girl in all the world, blah blah) nor was he the best at executing it. Whether it was the characters he’d created, the actors playing them, the witty scripts and storylines – or a mix of all of these things, I was hooked. I staunchly defended the show, and by proxy, Whedon himself, from any harsh criticisms, and overlooked anything that now, as a 32-year-old, stands out as (and I hate using this word) problematic. I followed him from Buffy; to Angel, Dr Horrible’s Singalong Blog, Dollhouse (look, I skipped Firefly for some reason, I’ve tried dipping a toe in but space cowboys aren’t for me, it seems), and that’s not to mention the movies he had a hand in (not an exhaustive list) – The Cabin in the Woods, The Avengers and The Avengers Age of Ultron. I was loyal, if Whedon’s name was attached, most likely, I was all in. There was something comforting and familiar about his humour, the way he told his stories – all of them laughably simple but layered to make them more complex. Like Shrek and onions.

So maybe you’re wondering where I took a left turn, jumped off the Joss Whedon Fan Train, as it were. Admittedly, it was a slow process, it wasn’t just a running leap off into the unknown post-Whedon world. A few years after Angel ended, some things circulated in the Buffy and Angel fandoms, rumours of how he treated his favourites, and those who had fallen out of favour with him. One of those people being Charisma Carpenter. In 2009 at a convention, a fan asked her how she felt about Cordelia’s last story line in Angel and how the show changed after her departure. While she didn’t explicitly come out and say the exact reason, she hinted that Whedon had been mad at her for making certain life decisions that would directly impact the vision he had for his show. Rumours have long since abounded that, in short, he punished her for falling pregnant. Obviously, no one but Carpenter and Whedon know the true story and at the time of hearing it, I took it with a grain of salt, but that seedling sat in the back of my mind and began to grow. After all, it explained a lot about the fourth season of Angel, and why the character of Cordelia made a complete 360. It was here that my relationship with Whedon started to sour, I began to question how someone who was so outspoken and publicly proud to be a feminist, could treat a woman that he had worked with for nearly a decade like that.

With that knowledge in mind, it was hard not to view some of the dialogue and plot points in his media a little differently, this is only one small example, but looking back, there is way too much slut shaming going on in Buffy to the point where Faith (my favourite character in the whole series, don’t @ me, I’ll defend her until I die) is seen as a lesser person than everyone else, because other female characters (Willow, Cordelia and Buffy herself) have branded her as a “cleavagey slutbomb”. Sure, ok, she goes and kills a bunch of people but they focus on her being slut much more than a psychopath – and I feel the need to point out that we only actually saw her sleep with one person (Xander) by the time the slut shaming actually started, and not that we should count, but Faith only slept with three people (Xander, Robin, and Riley in Buffy’s body) in the whole course of the show. And she killed four humans. Which means in Joss Whedon’s world, if you’re a woman, having sex is a worse crime than murder. Not exactly a feminist message.

Cut to just last year, when Whedon’s ex-wife, Kai Cole, came out with a heartbreakingly honest account of just what went down in their marriage. Details of his infidelity, gaslighting and emotional manipulation came spilling out of her, and sure, you could argue she was an embittered ex-wife, wanting to hit him where it would hurt the most, but it’s interesting to note that Whedon himself has never actually outright denied or refuted these claims. And ok, infidelity does not strip you of the right to call yourself a feminist, but as written by Clementine Ford “it's about how he absolved himself in a letter sent to Cole after his infidelity had finally been exposed, blaming the women he cheated with, calling them "beautiful, needy, aggressive young women" who "surrounded" him.” It’s about how he used his feminist badge as a shield, claiming he was raised feminist so he just liked women better, or how he claimed in a letter to Cole, and I quote, “in many ways I was the HEIGHT of normal, in this culture. We’re taught to be providers and companions and at the same time, to conquer and acquire — specifically sexually — and I was pulling off both!”

With all of these things in mind, I started to see Whedon’s feminism as what it likely is; performative, a way to excuse his behaviour, a safeguard to hide behind as if to say, “oh no, I am not like other men at all, although I may act as other men do and fully accept my privilege as a cis-het white male, I’m different. Because I’m a feminist so when I do these terrible things to women, it’s ok, because I love, respect and support women.” Maybe he truly believes he’s a feminist, publicly, he flies the flag very well, and there’s no denying he’s profited from this label, heralded as a great feminist hero, an ally to women everywhere. It’s only when you start to scratch the surface, peel back the layers of the Shrek-onion, do you start to see him for what he (in my mind) really is. A dudebro playing at being the nice guy, someone who says all the right things but whose actions don’t quite match up, in fact, they crumble under any real scrutiny (for further proof of this, go read the leak of the Wonder Woman script, allegedly by Whedon. If you can make it through the whole thing, I’ll buy you a coffee – hell if you can make it through the first 10 pages).

Where does that leave Joss and I then? I admit that I’m conflicted, in a culture that has moved more and more towards “cancelling” people I’m the proverbial fence sitter. I acknowledge that there are people, media, etc that are problematic (the dreaded word) and I think everyone has the right to decide whether or not to consume said media. And for myself, personally, I endlessly flip between the two schools of thought. I won’t watch anything new with Johnny Depp, nor anything from Woody Allen, for example, but I have gone back (since Amber Heard spoke of her abuse at his hands) and watched some of Depp’s older movies. Some people have told me that they disagree, that even watching his older stuff is wrong, that I should ban all forms of Depp media from my life otherwise I am giving him my tacit approval, and that’s their choice and their right, but I suppose I’m still working out where I want to draw the line. I (maybe naively and incorrectly) believe that I can view a piece of media and know its flaws, or the flaws of the person behind it, but still somewhat enjoy it for what it is, or the story it’s telling.

Maybe that’s where I am with Whedon, somewhere in between, neither in the black or the white, somewhere in the shades of grey, because that’s how life is sometimes. I don’t think he’s a fully bad person, nor do I think he’s a fully good person. I think he’s human, and humans are inherently flawed. And maybe that feels like a cop out, but it’s all I have to offer right now. My view of him will never be as it once was, and thus my viewing of the media he has created and produced will likely reflect that. Re-watching Buffy and Angel has become a different experience; I’m no longer blindly swept up in the twists and turns, the witty repartee between characters, but instead viewing through a different lens, one where I question what message he's really trying to send, what his true intentions are. Instead of laughing at every single joke, they never quite land right with me anymore, my childish naivety gone, replaced with the simmering anger of a woman who wonders why sexist jokes and judgements are supposed to be funny, why the rape of a female character is an excusable plot device to teach men a lesson. It’s exhausting to second guess someone I don’t even know, but this is the brave new world that a combination of his behaviour and my own feminist journey has left me in. These days, I wouldn’t ever say “I love Joss Whedon”, like I would’ve back in my teenage years, more likely you’ll find me saying “I loved Buffy but God it’s weird to watch as an adult”.

Like I said, it’s complicated.

Sources:

http://oranges8hands.tumblr.com/post/117924895453/charisma-carpenter-transcript-on-being-fired

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y_igTbXKPck

https://www.thewrap.com/joss-whedon-feminist-hypocrite-infidelity-affairs-ex-wife-kai-cole-says/

https://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/clementine-ford-why-joss-whedons-treatment-of-exwife-kai-cole-matters-20170821-gy16lx.html

https://indiegroundfilms.files.wordpress.com/2014/01/wonder-woman-aug7-07-joss-whedon.pdf

Image sources:

Yahoo.com

tenplay.com.au