#on this subject did anyone have favorite myths as a child?

[burmese-culture-is]

Burmese culture is wanting every Western person you ever meet to know about your country

this is true! Everyone look at this awesome country and mythology!

[theoi-crow]

The humans in Greek Mythology are the mega rich and powerful:

In my college classes people are often shocked when I tell them my favorite part of Greek mythology is the gods themselves and I'm not a big fan of the humans.

99% of my classmates prefer the humans in mythos, especially the ones that stick it to the gods like Sisyphus and feel bad for humans like Kassandra and Helen who have been wronged by the gods because "they're just like us." My classmates and teachers hate the gods and don't understand why anyone in modern times would want to worship such violent and selfish beings whenever I point out there are still people who worship them. They hold onto the idea that people in mythology embody the human experience of being oppressed by terrible gods and fate and we should feel bad for them because "they're human just like us" but they forget that the people in Greek Mythology are NOT just like us. They are more relatable to medieval royalty, colonizers and ultra rich politicians who make laws and decisions on wars and the fates of others, especially the poor and the very vulnerable.

Every hero or important human in Greek Mythology is either some form of royalty or mega rich politician/priest-priestess (of course this is with the exception of people who are explicitly stated to be poor like the old married couple in the myth where Zeus and Hermes pretend to be panhandlers). All of them have an ancient Greek lifestyle more relatable to Vladimir Putin, Donald Trump, and especially to British royalty during the British empire, than the average person.

All of them.

Odysseus, Patroclus, Theseus, Helen of Troy, Kassandra, Diomedes, Agamemnon, Perseus, Hercules, Aeneas, Paris, Any human who has a divine parent or is related to one, etc. Although sometimes the story omits it, it is heavily implied that these are people who own hundreds or even thousands of slaves, very poor farmers and the tiny barely there working class as royal subjects.

They are the ones who make laws and whose decisions massively affect the fates of so many people. So no, they can't just be forgiven for some little whim, because that little whim affects the literal lives of everyone under their rule. By being spoiled they've just risked the lives of thousands of people and possibly even gotten them killed like when Odysseus' audacity got every single slave and soldier in his ships killed or when Patroclus as a kid got upset and killed another kid for beating him at a game. (A normal person wouldn't kill another person just for winning a game but royalty and those who think they're above the law do it all the time, plus the class status of the child wasn't mentioned but the way he didn't think he'd get in trouble implies the kid was of lower class, possibly the child of a slave or a foreign merchant.)

The gods get a bad reputation for punishing the humans in mythology but, if not them, who else is going to keep them accountable when they are the law?

And whose to say the humans beneath them weren't praying to the gods in order to keep their masters in check?

Apollo is the god in charge of freeing slaves, Zeus is the god of refugees, immigrants and homeless people, Ares is the protector of women, Artemis protects children, Aphrodite is the goddess of the LGBT community, Hephaestus takes care of the disabled, etc. It wouldn't be surprising if the gods are punishing the ultra rich and powerful in these myths because the humans under their rulership prayed and sent them as they did historically.

Every time someone asks me if I feel bad for a human character in a myth, I think about the many lives affected by the decision that one human character made and if I'm being completely honest, I too would pray to the gods and ask them to please punish them so they can make more careful decisions in the future because:

They are not just like us.

We are the farmers, a lot of our ancestors were slaves, we are the vulnerable being eaten by capitalism and destroyed by the violence colonialism created. We are the poor subjects that can only pray and hope the gods will come and correct whatever selfish behavior the royal house and mega rich politicians are doing above us.

And that's why I pray to the gods, because in modern times I'm dealing with modern Agamemnons who would kill whatever family members they have to in order to reach their end goal, I'm dealing with everyday modern Achilles who would rather see their own side die because they couldn't keep their favorite toy and would gladly watch their subjects die if it means they eventually get their way. The ones that let capitalism eat their country and it's citizens alive so long as it makes them more money. These are our modern "demigods," politicians who swear they are so close to God that they know what he wants and so they pass laws that benefit only them and claim these laws are ordained by God due to their close connection just like how Achilles can speak to the gods because of his demigod status via his mother.

Look at the news, these are humans that would be mythical characters getting punished by Greek gods which is why anything Greco-Roman is jealousy guarded by the rich and powerful and is inaccessible to modern worshippers because Ivy League schools like Harvard and Cambridge make sure to keep it that way. That's what we're dealing with. These are the humans these mythical beings would be because:

In our modern times the humans in mythos would be the politicians and mega rich that are currently ruining our society and trying to turn it into a world where only the rich can manipulate wars and laws, just like they do in mythology.

Fuck them.

I literally have so much more to add about my disdain for them and I didn't even touch on the obvious ancient Greek propaganda.

[shelivesinhermind]

Time Travel AU. I hope you guys enjoy! 

Three women sat at a spindle. One decided present life, the other future, and the last held the events of the past.  Each thread they wove ending and beginning life, determining fate, predicting what was to come. The great tree Yggdrasil stood tall behind them. A beacon of life and destiny. Future held one thread, weaving the string, until the end prevented her handiwork. Then Past took up the weave, adding a new thread, and connected it to what already existed.

                                                     ~

Emma jolted awake, sending her glasses flying from where they had been perched on her book. A young man starred down at her; his face pinched in annoyance.

“Mam, I have to ask you to leave now.” She blinked through her grogginess, focusing on the clock at the far wall. Fifteen minutes past five o’clock. Damn it. Apparently, she had fallen asleep -- long hours and the silence of the library lulling her into sweet oblivion.

The man was still looking at her, his arms crossed. “Sorry”, she said as she stood with hands raised to convey her surrender. “I am leaving.”

As Emma shuffled her bag to gather her belongings he went back to the front desk, resuming his cataloging before leaving for the evening. The book she had just been using for a pillow was lying open. She had been reading of the Saint Brice’s day massacre, the Viking people gathering for revenge, and the fall of the London Bridge. As she picked up the book to reshelve it, her eyes caught on a small photo at the corner of the history book, the name King Cnut under the depiction. Her eyes immediately drawn, she wondered if a man who had “great” in his title was worthy of such.

Gaining one more annoyed look from the young man, Emma hurriedly put the book back and made her way out of the library into the busy traffic of London. Just as she hailed a cab, her phone buzzed.

R: Are we still on for 6?

Emma worked for a prestigious firm, and as many people told her, she worked herself to exhaustion. Work days where long, with hectic hours, so she rarely had time for relationships. Something she deeply regretted now, especially since her own adopted parents had said as much. A pang of guilt racked through Emma at the thought of her parents. They had given her a life, poured everything into her, their pride and joy. As a young woman, people always thought her too serious, but not her parents. Closing her eyes, she tried to purge her mind of those thoughts.

E: Yeah, meet you there.

She had taken off early today to go to library and read about her favorite subject –Norse myth and legends. Growing up her adopted father had spun her tales of grand Viking ships, the fearless Ragnar Lothbrok, and epic battles. As a child she had taken comfort in the stories and the silly voices her father would make when telling them. Even if she could not have one, she could have the other.

In her heart she knew she was avoiding reality, an attempt to soothe her mind. Ross had been kind to her, and was a solid friend at work. Maybe she did need to get out, take her mind off things.

The cab pulled up at her apartment. She had just enough time to freshen up before meeting Ross. Walking to her bathroom, another message came through.

R: Ok. I’ve been worried about you, Em. I know things have been tough since the funeral. See you.

This was why Emma avoided speaking to anyone. Why she spent every moment she could reliving those stories, tried to hear her father’s voice. Tried to get back those memories that where stuck in time.

Her parents had died in a horrible car crash. It had been another late night at work when she got the news. To then be told they had passed on impact. Over nothing, they had simply spun out of control while on the way back from holiday, the rain and tree unforgiving to her inconsolable grief.

After the funeral, Emma had not known how to move on. Her life felt halted. The very memory making her heart ache once again.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, willed the tears to stop. If she was honest, she really didn’t want a night out. It was too soon. Ross would understand. She pulled her phone back out to send a reply…

At that moment, she felt a pull: like a hook had grappled itself inside her and was pulling.  The feeling of freefalling overwhelmed her, but the tug inside was not taking her anywhere. She fell to her knees, her phone landing on the floor. Her vision blurred as she went to grab it, images shifting in and out of focus. She suddenly could not breathe.

Somewhere in the distance, Emma could hear the phone ringing; then all sounds turned into the roaring crashing of waves.

[silent-dragon]

TWST OC Profile ~ Neir Moonlapis

Theme song to listen to while reading ^^

Name: Neir Moonlapis(Miss Moon by students)

Gender: Non-binary(She/They) 

Age: ???

Species: Pixie Fairy

Orientation: Demiromantic

Birthday: ???

Zodiac: ???

Inspired By: The Blue Fairy from Pinocchio

Height: 144cm(132cm without heels)

Eye Color: Moon Yellow

Hair Color: Blue tones & Clear(Glows blue&white at night)

Homeland: Briar Valley?

School Year: ??yrs+ as staff

Occupation: Astrology Professor

Best Subject: Astrology

Dominant Hand: Both

Favorite Food: Carambola desserts

Least Favorite Food: Tomato soup

Dislikes: Bad fairy myths,students who skip class

Hobby: Stargazing,Painting skyscapes,Tarot telling

Talents: Fast flying,Making things float,Pranks,Wish granting,Constellation finding

Elemental Magic: Light/Fire

Unique Magic: "Happy Wish upon a Star" -

Neir doesn't grant wishes anymore so this is not used but basically allows her to grant a miracle level unconditional wish if you told it to a star in the night sky. She used to grant theses but the youth stopped believing in doing this so she stopped doing it.

OC’s Lore Summary: Neir is a long time staff member of NRC since fairies have been helping at the school. She is of the pixie species so she is more human sized and can speak fairy & human languages being often needed for communication between the two. Unlike most fairies Neir loves the night sky & stars. She loves teaching others about Astrology and has studied it for some time.

Personality: During the day she is a bit grumpy but gets better at night. She used to be super happy all the time but after a lot of years she is now a tad bitter. At night her personality is flipped and is so nice. She can be sweet anytime if you give her a bit of appreciation or praise.

Fun Facts: Neir was born from the 1st baby laugh of Dire. She seeked him out after feeling like she didn't fit in with the other fairies. She has never left his side since.

It bothers her secretly that she has never been anyone's favorite professor.

She functions on stars to power her magic as well as fairy dust which has been something that made her different then a regular pixie. Often she was called a witch by other fairies for it and told she's dangerous as she can make life altering choices with wish magic gained from star magic.

Her skin tone changes from light gray to dark gray depending on the stars. Certain alignments give her power while others take it. Dark gray means she is weaker.

On the surface she seems mean but is kind, however has a habit of playing pranks on other staff members and sometimes students when she sees them being mean. Usually trips them or makes their phone vanish for a few mins.

Her wings are usually hidden or do not show to certain people but you can hear them if you listen closely. They are visible at night glittering from the light of her hair which glows at night as well.

Family

Picrew

Dire Crowley

His laugh created her and no one understands why she is so different from other fairies but he has always welcomed her. She has always followed him. Neir has no label to what family he is to her.

In present twst they have a strained relationship as she disagrees on things he has done to get where he is now but still is there. She has no where else to go. The stars tell her nothing about his fate which worries her so. They tend to argue and Neir usually will make his hat fly away and he go after it to end the conversation.

Neir knows whats under the mask of course since she been with him since he was a boy.

Lonan Damón-Nova Crowley

Son of Dire and one Neir has taken care of moment she found him in a basket all alone on the beach. She calls him Little Nova most of the time as he adores stars due to her telling him all about them.

Lowan Zumon Crowley

The son of Lonan who she has recently met and has continued her care of Dire's family. While she wishes to care for him same as she did Lonan Dire has told her she needs to let him care for his child more. She calls him Mini Nova after what she calls his father.

[hughiecampbelle]

Being The Smartest Shelby Would Include:

Polly knew you were smart from the start

She said so when you were a baby, but of course no one believed her

Everyone thought their kids were special, but you really were

Born just a few years before Finn, you weren't the baby, but you definitely weren't the oldest, so it was hard to be taken seriously

It started with your homework

You spent a lot of nights trying to tell your siblings it was just too easy

You weren't just getting every answer right, you were finishing pages of work in minutes, faster than anyone in your class

Eventually, you moved on to your brothers work

Finding it discarded on the table, you recognized Johns scraggly handwriting

He'd only made it halfway through, so you decided to finish it, even fixing some of his mistakes along the way

You wanted to show them what you'd done, but of course no one listened

At least, not until you stood on your chair and demanded that someone look over your work

It was a bit dramatic, and made for an embarassing story later, but you wanted to be heard

They did, finally, and they were shocked

Tommy handed it to John, who passed to Ada, skipping over Arthur, who eventually got it to Polly

"Well?"

"It's right, all of it. . . ."

"Fuck."

It wasn't just math though. You were reading every book you could find, even the ones your siblings struggled to get through

You had a knack for puzzles, for figuring things out no one else could, able to pull things apart and put them together just in your head

Polly knew, and she was going to do something about it

Anything she could find to keep you entertained, occupied, your mind at work, she'd bring it home

You had an incredible memory too, remembering everything from the contents on the back of bottles you brothers drank from to entire speeches Polly gave when all of you were misbehaving

It was amazing, to say the least

You were a kid when your brothers went off to war, so it was mostly Ada and Polly who spent long nights with you at the table over homework

You didn't think it was fair, that you were forced to stay in school when none of your siblings were

Polly called it a gift, said you shouldn't take it for granted

She had big plans for you, the kind of career kids like you could only dream of

Finn grows up with you reading to him every night

Even helping him with schoolwork, though that didn't last very long

It still irks you Polly let's Finn drop school, not even getting past reading himself, but you know better than to push the subject

By the time your brothers come back, thankfully all in one piece, you've become a bit of a myth or legend around the Small Heath

Not only are you taller and with more acne, a young teenager, you've made a name for yourself, and a business

After school you could be found with a hat on the ground, getting pocket change for your "abilities"

Showing off and splitting the money with friends, you put on shows

Memorizing the faces of strangers, drawing them almost perfectly by hand, reciting lines of poetry from class all from memory, etc.

Sometimes you bring Finn along, promising candy for his silence, making him part of the act

Your favorite is showing off the languages you've lesrned, switching between Romani, French, Italian, and German (to name a few) without a second thought, so effortlessly

Arthur caught you once, but instead of saying anything, he simply cheered you on, laughing at the fact that your business was doing better than the familys

You spent a lot of time in the shop like Finn, growing up there, but never really allowed in on business, not even to listen

Instead you were ordered to be quiet and focus on your studies

And you did, for a few years, slipping notes to John about what you thought would improve business, pressing your ear to the door to listen, putting up with being categorized as "one of the kids" with Finn

And then you made an announcement, one that almost killed Polly

You weren't going to university, and instead you'd be joining the family business

Your aunt put up a good fight, but your brothers were more than happy to welcome you, with rules of course

Ada wasn't too thrilled either, knowing how smart you were, and how special it was, but she wasn't going to stop you

Pol was, or at least she was going to try

"You could be anything you want y/n."

"And I choose this."

"You're-"

"Wasting my potential? So you've said."

You'd be more behind the scenes, working on the business side rather than the side with razors and guns

Your brothers were more than happy to hear that, though you'd gotten more than a few comments muttered by Pol

If you really wanted to, you could always be a doctor or a lawyer later in life, for now this is what you wanted most

You were finally part of your family

Within the first week, you have a full list of what could be improved and you're center stage in the family meeting

To say that was nerve wrecking was an understatement

Tommy had his doubts, of course, but John knew you'd been keeping their heads above water for a long time

"Go on then, you've got our attention."

You were the one they went to check over the books, the numbers, catching mistakes no one else did

It wasn't just spelling mistakes or addition issues, you were taking stock in inventory, in all the bullets that were wasted, the little things that went missing that no one seemed to notice

It didn't take long for you to work your way up, prove yourself not only to Tommy, but Pol too, showing her this wasn't a waste of your time

She's still not thrilled, but you're as stubborn as the rest, and she knows it's a losing battle

At least you're being smart with your work

Tommy made you check over every contract and agreement he made, making sure he didn't miss a single detail that would screw them over

He brought you to the races too, working out probability, though your math was shaky at best under that kind of pressure and uncertainty

You were the one counting the profits and losses too, weighing the options of whether or not to invest

You're really the only one who knows just how much the family makes

That is a dangerous thing in itself

You make friends quite easily

Not only can you speak an array of languages, bonding with everyone, but you've got that Shelby charm and good looks, too

You're quite popular, though your brothers constantly get in the way of any potential relationship

You're smart though, and not just for their gain, but yours too

If and when you're ready to date, you'll find a way

Alfie adores you

Tommy drives him mad, but he'd have you over any day

Not only does he love the fact that you can keep up with him, witty beyond belief, but your Hebrew is perfect

"So, you're the brains behind the whole operation?"

"Something like that."

You're brought along to a lot of in person deals

You pick up on things no one else does, remembering the littlest of things that can and will be weaponized if need be

Their kids and spouses names, the way they look at you, how they speak and carry themselves

It doesn't take long for you to know exactly who they are

"They're lying Tom. I know they are."

"How can you tell?"

"They look away when they answer, their eye twitches, and they always lean forward when they're saying something true."

"You got all that from a five minute conversation?"

You're not only their beloved little sibling, but the perfect weapon

They don't teach you how to use a gun, but you've been watching for years, making note of every tiny detail

When you do use a gun, which is inevitable, it's a perfect shot

Arthur and Tom insist you carry something with you, but you're fine sticking with a simple razor

The guns can stay with them. . . .

Not only does it come in handy with work, but your family, too

You pick up on the way Arthur escalates, talking him down before there's a full outburst

You know the nights Tommy does and doesn't sleep just by the sound of his voice, the way he signs his name

You know when to check up on Ada if she's not doing well after Freddies gone, even if no one else can see the hurt in her eyes

That's the thing everyone seems to forget, is that you're not only book smart, but people smart, too

Constantly making fun of your siblings right in front of them

"Pol, y/n's making fun of me!"

"I am not! You don't even speak Russian."

"No, but I can guess."

He'd never admit it to you, but Finn really is amazed by you

Ever since he was a kid he always looked up to you

School and homework and all that never came easy to him, and it lead to him giving up, so the fact that all of this comes so easy makes him proud to be your brother

"Y/n, curse in a language we all know or don't say it all."

Along with learning weapons along the way, you pick up on how to be a nurse, tending to whatever it needed

From your nieces and nephews scraped knees to bullet wounds

"Do not get blood on my new shirt!"

No one really suspects you to be listening or watching the way you do, so when they need it, you go "undercover"

Gaining the trust of the enemy, pretending to be a stranger that just so happens to get their attention as if you hadn't been figuring out what makes them tick, distracting them with drinks and small talk

If anything goes wrong, you picked up on how to get away, how to fight without getting too much attention, and not just by watching

With a memory like yours, there are some things you'd like to forget and can't

A lot of things do leave you with nightmares, with flashes of panic, with this dreadful feeling in your gut like you'd seen it all before

At one point or another you've called your siblings and aunt in the middle of the night, just to check up on them, see if they're okay

Begging your brothers to be more careful

They rarely ever listen though

"Is there anything you can't do?"

"I can't go on a date."

"Nope, not until you're forty."

"Come on Arthur, you can't scare them all away."

Despite all this, you're still treated like a child

Your siblings still see you as that smart little kid correcting their work and growing bored of even the most complicated things

No matter what you do or say, you'll always be small in their eyes

[jackson--t]

🎃 Spooktober 🎃

Bloody Boneless - Pt. I

Welcome to my favourite time of the year and my month of spooky stuff! I will create some short spooky stories - if you want to join me, feel free to tag me! 🎃

Summary: Heahmund talks about old sagas and legends in his classes - and tries one game out for himself at home. With a frightening result that makes his blood run cold...

Words: 2.6 k (AO3? Here.)

Spooky Friends (so far): @youbloodymadgenius @jadelynlace (if you want to be tagged, feel free to send me a DM or stuff!) 🖤

Heahmund looked around at his students and grinned a little; his bright eyes wandered over the curious eyes of the teens, who were all talking; some were already coming forward to share their ideas and stories.

It was October, and it wasn't long until Halloween; Heahmund had specifically chosen the last history lessons to get into a little spooky subject matter, about ghosts and folklore, about old tales and myths, and things you'd tell yourself if you wanted to scare someone. Outside, the rain pattered against the window, and the class had been decked out in autumnal red for several weeks, decorated with collected leaves and chestnuts. Heahmund grinned for a moment, then pointed to a student.

"Anna?"

"When I was a child, my mother told me that witches could be found in many bushes and along roadsides. We had a bush in our backyard back then, and it was so opaque that you could only ever make out black structures that looked so spooky..."

"And you must have been afraid of it?" Heahmund said, and Anna nodded.

"Who knows any more sagas? Does anyone maybe know games that involve old Halloween traditions?" Heahmund asked to the group, and several students came forward.

"Tim."

"My big sister once got a Ouija board with her friends on Halloween, and they... tried to call a dead friend through the board. They've never touched it since. She told me things moved around the room and the lights suddenly went out," Tim recounted; several girls in the room looked at each other aghast and began whispering excitedly, while Heahmund pressed his lower back against the desk.

"Stories like that scare you, of course, but it can also be fantasy. There are so many ancient legends and customs that, because of their history, already grasp the origins of fear. For example, the superstition that you should never look in the mirror at the stroke of midnight," he explained, and the teenagers fell silent; they looked at their history teacher intently.

"Why not?" Irina asked, and Heahmund grinned slightly.

"They say it makes you see your inner monster, or your inner witch. There are various games you can try in the dark, but they mostly play with your seventh sense, or simply your perception. The basic idea of fear plays a central role in this. Does anyone know of anything else?"

It took a moment, but then suddenly, quite hesitantly, a finger lifted from the back row; Heahmund's eyes met the shy Natalie, who always spoke very little, even though she had good grades. The others did not like her so much; however, to Heahmund she was a nice girl who was just a little quiet. He nodded to her with a smile; she looked around shyly, then said softly, "You told us once about the Vikings, and about their age. I know a saga about it."

Heahmund raised his eyebrows; he had always loved the subject of Vikings and didn't even know until now that there were customs here, too - or at least ghost stories that the young people told each other. "Really? Ah, very nice! Of course, when someone includes real history, it's always exciting. Tell us more, Nathalie!"

Nathalie hesitated for a moment; her fingers buried in her sweater.

"You told us about Ragnar Lothbrok and his sons back then. And I know a... legend. It says that at the stroke of midnight you are supposed to stand in front of the mirror, and if you... well, if you say Bloody Boneless three times, the Viking tyrant Ivar the Boneless will appear in the mirror."

Heahmund felt a slight chill run down his spine; he had gone over the subject very carefully with the students, and he was fascinated by how much had stuck with her; he looked at her for a moment, then asked, "Have you ever tried it?"

She shook her head vigorously. "No, I wouldn't do it either. The stories about him are too scary for me."

"With Bloody Mary, after all, the legend goes much the same way, except she pokes your eyes out. What do you think Ivar the Boneless does, Nathalie?" Heahmund said; the class watched intently as Nathalie bit her lower lip softly.

"They say that he... that he kills you. With an object he finds on you." she whispered; for a moment, icy chills ran through the class, and the abrupt ringing of the bell elicited a cry from some; Heahmund laughed.

"All's well, we'll see each other again on Wednesday. Until then, please read up on the customs about the Salem Witches' Night and do assignment 10 on it."

Heahmund waited until the class was completely empty; he smiled at the students, then scratched his chin lightly. Ghost stories, what nonsense. Of course, he knew none of these things were true; even though he loved seeing the shocked faces of the teenagers.

Bloody Boneless, what a nonsense....

 

§---§---§

 

It was late in the evening when Heahmund stood in front of the mirror in his bathroom; for a moment he looked at his dark hair, and then got his toothbrush ready. The clock on his shelf showed just before midnight; so, he still had some time.

Something on the back of his neck prickled as he brushed his teeth and walked slowly up and down the hallway; the rain was still casting gloomy shadowy shapes on the windows in his house, and the wind was clearly audible. If he wasn't mistaken, he had also heard a thunderstorm coming from a safe distance - a terribly cozy autumn night that he was about to end with a good book in his bed. Yet he still carried his student's words from today in his ear; that strange story about Ivar the Boneless.

Heahmund had devoted much of his studies to the Viking field, and it was still his favorite part of history. Perhaps he could joke with the children and pretend that the story about the mirror was true. He was sure that the teenagers - at least a couple of them - would not be able to sleep for nights if Heahmund continued Nathalie's story. He grunted softly in amusement before standing back in the bathroom and washing out his mouth.

When he lifted his head, the clock read 11:59 p.m., and Heahmund fixed his bright eyes on the mirror; his own reflection was staring back at him, albeit still with a somewhat wet beard. As the digital clock read midnight, Heahmund exhaled deeply. His hands clawed tightly into the porcelain of the basin, and he said softly in his deep voice:

"Bloody Boneless."

Once, and the rain whipped harder against the window; it was nothing unusual, for the storm had been predicted. Heahmund snorted softly; he felt a little crazy and silly, but he took another breath and said:

"Bloody Boneless."

Far away in the dark of the night there was a low rumbling; but the storm was still too far away for Heahmund to hear it clearly. Nothing happened; Heahmund grinned slightly at his own image in the mirror, and then quietly muttered a third:

"Bloody Boneless."

It happened all of a sudden; the lights in the bathroom began to flicker all at once, and with a ripping thunderclap, it abruptly went dark; just once, the light of the bathroom mirror still flickered on, causing Heahmund to let out a scream.

For a millisecond, the gruesomely contorted face of an angry young man had appeared in it, that undoubtedly belonged to Ivar the Boneless. But the lights came back on, and Heahmund stared perplexedly into the mirror; his hands trembled, and he wore white marks on his knuckles, so tightly had he clutched at the basin. When his bright eyes fell on the mirror again, he could see only his own face in it. No trace of that grimace.

Heahmund exhaled deeply and ran his hand over his forehead, shivering slightly; it was just as he himself had said in his lessons: the brain knew it was seeing something, and imagined it. The thunder had been a coincidence, of course, and had contributed to that brief anxiety -but it had been a horrible experience.

"Amazing, a brain like that.", Heahmund muttered to himself, slightly breathless, before turning off the bathroom light and turning towards the hallway. Just for a brief moment, for the fragile blink of an eye, he imagined that he saw a black, crooked shadow in the mirror that clearly could not belong to him. But it could just have been the shower curtain.

Heahmund hurried to get to the bedroom; the mirrors in the hallway suddenly didn't seem so trustworthy, especially since a bright flash additionally illuminated the hallway. Heahmund had never really been the fearful type; never. He didn't believe in ghosts and stories; he believed in the measurable reality of people. But this experience had given even him a deep goose bump on the back of his neck that he couldn't shake off. When he arrived in the bedroom, he closed the door behind him; the hallway was silent, however, as he took one last look inside before turning out the light there as well.

He had another mirror in the bedroom that he had a good view of; normally he loved it, especially for certain evenings; but now a strange feeling came over him. He looked at the mirror slightly critically, and yet decided against taking it down - he wasn't that anxious now. Everything was explainable, really everything. The blackout, the flickering, even his hallucination. There was nothing to worry about or be afraid of.

He turned on the small light on his nightstand and leaned back against the end of the bed; he covered himself lightly and began reading his book. He loved this atmosphere while reading; there was a storm outside, and he was inside with a book in a warm bed, and he didn't even have to get up early tomorrow, since he didn't have class until the last period. He enjoyed such evenings very much; only sometimes he felt lonely.

The house was only blanketed by the sound of rain and thunderstorms; however, as Heahmund was turning a page, his eyes caught something out of the corner of his eye. It was a dark movement, a quick, barely visible movement, but it shot up the back of Heahmund's neck so quickly and tinglingly that he could not have imagined it.

His gaze went up to the mirror; it was still standing there motionless, and nothing but the room was reflected in it; this weather was playing tricks on his eyes, he was sure of it. And those damn children's stories. He shouldn't have done that shit with the mirror.

Heahmund averted his eyes again; he continued to read in silence when suddenly he heard an unfamiliar noise - it sounded like something hitting the ground sharp and hard, like some kind of knife or axe; but it was almost too heavy for that. Heahmund raised his head and stared around the room, but he could see nothing; yet he could have sworn that this strange sound had come directly from his room. He wrinkled his nose slightly; the sound appeared again, only this time it was ten times louder. And it was almost as if a dark shadow was creeping out from under the doorframe....

Heahmund jumped out of bed. Maybe it was a burglar! He went towards the door, saw exactly the strange shadows on the wooden floor, which looked as if someone with crutch was standing in front of the door - his neck tingled wildly, and he suppressed the fantasy in his head - when with a sudden movement he tore open the door.

"Ha!" he cried; but there was no one in the hall. Heahmund stared open-mouthed into the hallway, and then at the floor - the shadow was gone. He took a deep breath in and out, as he closed the door behind him with a soft sound. He needed to calm down, his imagination was starting to run away with him. It was nothing more than a scary fairy tale that teenagers told each other at their Halloween parties.

When he turned around, however, his body suddenly froze.

He couldn't move an inch even if he wanted to; his muscles seemed frozen, frozen like an icy body in deepest winter. His mouth was slightly open, and yet neither words nor air came out to breathe; for his bright eyes fell on the mirror.

There, in jet-black leather armor, leaning on a pointed, metal crutch, stood a young man with the brightest, bluest eyes Heahmund had ever encountered. He simply stood there in the mirror, no one in front of it, staring motionless in Heahmund's direction; his dark hair was braided in Viking splendor, and his face revealed that he had been through a lot; a small but legendary scar adorned the young man's face.

It took a while for Heahmund's body to release its rigidity; he took a deep shocked breath, and stared in disbelief at the image in the mirror. It was as if frozen; the young Viking in it did not move a bit, but only stared stubbornly in Heahmund's direction. It looked like a statue; Heahmund dared to come a little closer and walked with slow steps towards the large mirror.

A flash of lightning lit up the room, and the rumble of thunder gave the whole thing an impossibly creepy atmosphere. Although Heahmund's body was wrapped in icy cold and thick goose bumps, he walked forward until he was standing right in front of the mirror; the young man was a little shorter than him and stood slightly bent over by his crutch. But he did not move, not even when Heahmund touched the cold pane of the mirror with a slight swallow.

"You're not real. This isn't real. I'm dreaming.", Heahmund muttered darkly; the mirror felt normal, and nothing moved except for the flashes in the background.

It had to be a bad joke. Maybe someone had traded his mirror for a TV? Maybe this was a show? Those damn kids...

Heahmund hissed softly as he looked around the room; but he could see no cameras in the corners, and no feet or anything behind the curtains. There was nothing there...

He turned his gaze back to the mirror; still the young man stood there, but his eyes had changed direction. They were staring Heahmund right in the face now, and Heahmund had to swallow hard against his own horrible fear. He took his fingers away from the cool glass, and stared at the Viking as well.

"You are not real, Ivar the Boneless," Heahmund said darkly.

And suddenly, with the bright light of a flash of lightning and the cruel, violent thunder of the thunderstorm close by, he moved; the face moved jerkily, and his jaw cracked slightly before bright white teeth showed, looking almost like sharp knives in the flash of the thunderstorm; the corners of the young man's mouth lifted, and the bright eyes stared at him like the devil's face made flesh.

„dauði, Kristr.“ A high-pitched, strangely soft, yet scratchy voice shattered the silence of the bedroom, mixed with cruel cracking sounds; and Heahmund froze to ice again.

He took a shaking step back, but his eyes caught perfectly how the pointed end of the crutch pressed against the mirror from inside, and a thousand shards suddenly pattered on the floor; and with a firm and sweeping pulling motion, Ivar the Boneless pulled himself out of the mirror, incarnate.

„dauði, Kristr.“ - "Die, Christian." (correct me if it's wrong!)

[sakuramidnight15]

-HSA OC Information-

Character Bio

Name: Aimi Hestia

(Japanese: アイミヘスティア)

Romaji: Aimi Hesutia

Quote: "Oh my~ Aren't you a cutie pie~ Did I make your pulse rise~?"

V/A: Ami Koshimizu (Japanese)

Gender: Female

Age: 18

Birthday: October 5

Star Sign: Libra

Eye Color: Redwood (Her Normal Eye Color)

Graphite Black (Second Eye Color and Half-Myth power activation)

Hair Color: Ecru Brown

Height: 174 cm

Race: Half Human, Half Myth/Hybrid

Species: Huli Jing

Homeland: Springfield (The first country in the Island of Enchantment)

Family: Santiago Polas (Father)

Cailin Hestia (Mother)

Rowan Polas (First Older Brother)

Ricky Polas (Second Older Brother)

Rafe Polas (Third Older Brother)

Kymora Hestia (Aunt)

____________________________________

School Status and Fun Facts

Dorm: Legothŕylos (@fullplaidponydreamer)

School Year: Third

Class: 3-B (Same Class with Saburou, Sienna and Geoffrey)

Student no. 2 (A transfer student)

Occupation: Student

Floral Temple Dancer

Video Gamer (In secret)

Official gear-weapon maker of the Army Scout Rank of SIDC (Meaning: Supernaturals Investigation Department Center)

Club: Drama Club

Best Subject: Movement Class, Dance, and English

Dominant Hand: Ambidextrous (Mostly her right)

Favorite Color: Light Red and Black

Favorite Food: Mochi (Any style and flavor), Fried Noodles (From Lynette's Family Restaurant), and Japanese Tea

Least Favorite Food: Steamed Shrimp and Sweet Candies

Likes: Her third brother Rafe (Mostly), Music, Dancing, Fashion and Trends, Video Games (In any genre and in secret), Gymnastics (Mostly),

Dislikes: Loud Noises, Haru's Pranks, Discrimination, Being used in the past (Mostly), Trying to fit in,

Hobbies: Gymnastics (Mostly), Playing Video Games (In secret and mostly), Dancing (Mostly), Gear Machine making, Being a main model, Embroidery,

Talents: Transforming into her half-myth form, Vine Manipulation, Petal Bullets, Extreme Flexibility, Acrobatics, Charm Skills, Willow Balls,

Nicknames: Ai-san or Ai-chan (From her family and friends)

Aimi-senpai or Hestia-senpai (From the freshmen students and mostly for Lynn and her friends)

Mrs. Hestia (From the SIDC workers and trainers)

Ai-nee-san (From Lynette)

Mimi (From her third brother, Rafe)

Other Nicknames:

Lady or Miss Hestia (From servants and others)

____________________________________

Appearance and Personality

Appearance: Aimi has a simple slender female body build. She has long and curly ecru brown hair which she styled it into two long twin tails with two black ribbons. She has redwood eyes which they can turn into graphite black when using her half-myth abilities. Aimi is known so her honesty but can be rather flirty.

Personality: Born as the only daughter and youngest child in the family. Aimi was raised normally by her parents alongside with her three brothers who happened to be triplets, and her aunt. Her whole family runs a traditional flower temple with her father as the current floral master and they were well-known in public, her oldest brother Rowan is the current heir for the temple's next family bloodline.

Despite the long temple traditions her family runs, Aimi alongside with her three brothers were allowed to roam freely during their break from temple duties. Aimi was rather a wondering child who doesn't have thoughts about life but is mostly seen with Rafe, her third older brother. Who Aimi stated that he is her favorite brother than the other two.

Aimi is sweet thanks to her appearance but she tends to be sharp with her words and does know her manners towards anyone but does know how to add some words that could startled anyone, like a compliment or flirt.

Aside of being flirty, she does know how to understand someone's feelings if you get close to her, which no one but the others she got along with can notice it. Aimi is does know how to handle her words towards anyone near her like a hidden skill. Plus, she can be a sweet lover in a relationship.

Try not to test her patience, Aimi has a very interesting aura when being provoked. Her attitude can change into a very harsh one since she was raised in a well-known traditional flower temple. Can wear a stoic expression when doing so. She may could rise your pulse up till it stops when being pissed off.

Quite a flirt this girl is, but she has her reasons deep down.

____________________________________

Trivia

-The name 'Aimi' is primarily a female name of Japanese origin that means Beautiful Love. While her surname 'Hestia' means goddess of hearth and home. Hestia as a girl's name is of Greek origin meaning "goddess of hearth and home". In mythology, Hestia is the name of the Greek goddess of the hearth, equivalent to the Roman goddess Vesta.

-She based on Ahri (From League of Legends), Esdeath (From Akame ga Kill), and Vert/Green Heart (From Hyperdimensional Neptunia)

-She considered Lynette a younger sister she never had and is often seen with her alongside with Amelia and Kiara. Lynette considered her as her second sister figure aside from Manase. Can relate with Lynette since they are foxes but in different specimens and also handling with older brothers.

-Aimi is kinda troublesome when at the SIDC work thanks to her flirtatious attitude. Sienna gets headaches from handling her and will scold or punishment Aimi if she doesn't behave.

-She often helps Arianna, Manase and Marleigh when it comes to fashion. Is somewhat a their model for the three.

-Aimi is skilled at embroidery. Her fingers doesn't get pricked.

-A closet gamer but no one but Lynette and Freya only knows about it. Often plays games with the two alongside with Nerine. She wears glasses but no one saw her.

-She's skilled in traditional dances. Especially when it comes from her temple. Never fails to amaze the crowd.

-She secretly liked to dress Hibiki and Yuzuki up in kimonos once thanks to their feminine faces. Hibiki swore to choke her while Yuzuki got annoyed.

-She was once manipulated by a boy that ruined her heart, until he accidentally pushed her off the window with her brothers as witnesses. He was sentenced to prison after she was sent to the hospital.

-Het voice is sweet and gentle but the tone and mood drops when getting pissed off. Which is why I chose Ami Koshimizu to be her voice actor.

[idreamtofmanderleyagain]

Five years ago, the women on this site who treated me like trash over loving Labyrinth and shipping Jareth/Sarah were almost always obliviously consuming Radfem propaganda, or were out and out Radfems/Terfs themselves.

They were the types of people who casually threw the word “pedophile” around against grown women who shipped an adult Sarah with Jareth, aka literally one of the most popular ships for women in fandom for 30 years.

Pretty much invariably, these women had serious sex-negative anxieties, which included a severe paranoia about any and all kink and fetish, and porn in general. I saw a lot of shocking, fear-mongering propaganda surrounding sexual expression. Pretty much invariably, their method of approach involved immediate personal shock-value attacks on anyone they perceived to be “bad.”

Today, you can look at the way some people react to other popular so-called “problematic” ships and recognize the same toxic, fear-mongering rhetoric coming from women who consider themselves regular, trans-inclusive feminists. Sometimes it even manifests in the words of very well-meaning people (including myself here), who feel the need to talk about specific issues that pertain to their own experiences of trauma and oppression.

The people who shit on Labyrinth often seem to not really be able to comprehend that the Goblin King, like the film itself, is canonically a representation of a teen girl’s psyche, a soup of fears and anxieties and desires and dreams. He’s not a literal human adult preying on a literal child, and to read the film that way seriously undermines the entire point of the film. 

When I (and people of many fandoms) say “This is fiction, calm down,” I’m not just saying it’s not real so it cant hurt you and you can’t criticize me. I’m trying to call attention to what fiction actually is - artistic representations of feelings and experiences. The Goblin King is Sarah’s fiction. Therefore, he can be anything she or any woman who identifies with her wants him to be, including her lover when she’s grown and ready for such a thing.

I once took an alarming dive into Beetlejuice fandom to see what content was there (the cartoon was a favorite when I was little). Chillingly, what you’ll find is an extremely wounded fanbase, with a sharp divide between the older women who had long been shipping BJ/Lydia because of their love for the cartoon series (and whom were previously the vast majority of the Beetlejuice fandom), and a massive amount of young people riding the wave of the musical fad who had decided that the entire old school Beetlejuice fandom was populated by literal pedophiles. 

I saw death threats. Suicide baiting. Constant, constant toxic discourse. It did not matter how the BJ/Lydia fandom dealt with any particular issues that would exist in their ship, in fact I’m certain that the people abusing them cared very little to even consider if they were trying to handle it at all. The only thing that mattered was that they were disgusting subhuman scum asking for abuse. If you have at any time reblogged recent Beetlejuice fan art or content from fans of the musical, you have more than likely been engaging positively with the content of someone participating in toxic fandom behavior.

Nobody is really sticking up for them, either, as far as I saw. It’s really hard to imagine how painful it must be to have such a large group of people explode into into your relatively private fandom space to tell you that you are evil, vile, and deserve constant abuse, and also you are no longer allowed into the fandom space to engage in it’s content. But I think there’s something very alarming indeed about this happening specifically to the BJ fandom, and I’ll explain why. 

The pop-culture characterization of Beetlejuice, which is heavily influenced by the cartoon series to be clear, has always in my mind been a vaguely ageless being who matches with the psychological maturity of whatever age Lydia is supposed to be. He’s more or less like an imaginary friend, a manifestation of Lydia’s psyche. In fact, I would argue that i think most of us who grew up with the cartoon or it’s subsequent merchandizing before the musical ever existed probably internalized the idea as BJ and Lydia as this ageless, salt-and-pepper-shaker couple beloved by the goth community, similar to Gomez and Morticia. In each version of canon he may be a creepy ghost in the literal sense, but any adult who is capable of identifying literary tropes (even just subconciously) would read cartoon!BJ as an artistic representation of a socially awkward outcast girl’s inner world. Lydia’s darker dispositions and interests, which alienate her from most others, are freely accepted and embraced by her spooky magical friend. BJ/Lydia in the cartoon were depicted as best friends, but to my memory there was always an underlying sense that they had secret feelings for each other, which I identified easily even as a small child. In fact, their dynamic and behavior perfectly reflected the psychological development of the show’s target demographic. They are best friends who get into adventures and learning experiences together, who have delicate feelings for each other but lack any true adult romantic/sexual understanding to acknowledge those feelings, let alone pursue them.

Though I haven’t seen the Musical yet, I’ve read the wiki and I would argue that it embodies this exact same concept even more so for it’s own version of the characters, in that Beetlejuice specifically exists to help Lydia process her mother’s death.

This is not a complicated thing to recognize and comprehend whatsoever. In fact, it looks downright blatant. It’s also a clear indicator of what BJ/Lydia means to the women who have long loved it. It was a story about a spooky wierd girl being loved and accepted and understood for who she was, and it gave them a sense of solidarity. It makes perfect sense why those women would stick with those characters, and create a safe little space for themselves to and imagine their beloved characters growing and having adult lives and experiencing adult drama, in just the same ways that the women of the Labyrinth fandom do. That’s all these women were doing. And now, they can’t do it without facing intense verbal violence. That safe space is poisoned now.

Having grown up with the cartoon as one of my favorites and been around goth subculture stuff for decades, I was actually shocked and squicked at the original Beetlejuice film’s narrative once I actually saw it, because it was extremely divorced from what these two characters had evolved into for goth subculture and what they meant to me. It’s not telling the same story, and is in fact about the Maitland's specifically. In pretty much exactly the same way two different versions of Little Red Riding Hood can be extremely different from each other, the film is a different animal. While I imagine that the film version has been at the heart of a lot of this confused fear-mongering around all other versions of the characters, I would no more judge different adaptations of these characters any more than I would condemn a version of Little Red in which Red and the Wolf are best friends or lovers just because the very first iteration of LRRH was about protecting yourself from predators.

I would even argue that the people who have engaged in Anti-shipper behavior over BJ/Lydia are in intense denial over the fact that BJ being interested in Lydia, either as blatant predatory behavior a la the film or on a peer level as in the cartoon (and musical?) is an inextricable part of canon. Beetlejuice was always attracted to Lydia, and it was not always cute or amusing. Beetlejuice was not always a beloved buddy character, an in fact was originally written as a gross scumbag. That’s just what he was. Even people engaging with him now by writing OC girlfriends for him (as stand-ins for the salt-and-pepper-shaker space Lydia used to take up, because obviously that was part of the core fun of the characters), or just loving him as a character, are erasing parts of his character’s history in order to do so. They are actively refusing to be held responsible for being fans of new version of him despite the fact that he engaged in overt predatory behavior in the original film. In fact, I would venture to say that they are actively erasing the fact that Musical Beetliejuice tried to marry a teenager and as far as I’m aware, seemed to like the idea (because he’s probably a fucking figment of her imagination but go off I guess). The only reason they can have a version of this character who could be perceived as “buddy” material is because...the cartoon had an impact on our pop cultural perception of what the character and his dynamic with Lydia is. 

We can have a version of the Big Bad Wolf who’s a creepy monster. We can have a version who’s sweet and lovable. We can have a version that lives in the middle. We can have a version who’s a hybrid between Red and the Wolf (a la Ruby in OUAT). All of these things can exist in the same world, and can even be loved for different reasons by the same people.

I’ve been using Beetlejuice as an example here because it’s kind of perfect for my overall point regarding the toxic ideologies in fandom right now across many different spaces, including ones for progressive and queer media, and how much so many people don’t recognize how deeply they’ve been radicalized into literalist and sex-negative radfem rhetoric, to the point where we aren’t allowed to have difficult, messy explorations of imperfect, flawed humans, and that art is never going to be 100% pure and without flaw in it’s ability to convey what it wants to convey.

This includes the rhetoric I’ve seen across the board, from She-Ra to A:TLA to Star Wars to Lovecraft Country. We don’t talk about the inherent malleable, subjective, or charmingly imperfect nature of fiction any more. Transformation and reclamation are myths in this space. Everything is in rigid categories. It is seemingly very difficult for some of these people to engage with anything that is not able to be clearly labeled as one thing or another (see the inherent transphobic and biphobic elements of the most intense rhetoric). They destroy anything they cannot filter through their ideology. When women act in a way that breaks from their narrative of womanhood (like...not having a vagina), then those women must be condemned instead of understood. Anything that challenges them or makes them uncomfortable is a mortal sin. There is an extraordinary level of both hypocrisy and repressive denial that is underlying the behavior I’m seeing now. Much like toxic Christian conservatism, these people often are discovered engaging in the same behaviors and interests that they condemn behind closed doors (or just out of sheer cognitive dissonance). As an example, one of the people who talked shit to me about Labyrinth was a huge fan of Kill La Kill, which to my knowledge was an anime about a teenage girl in like, superpowered lingere (hence why I stayed the fuck away from that shit myself). Indeed, they even allow themselves plenty of leeway for behavior far worse than they condemn others for, and create support systems for the worst of their own abusers. 

Quite frankly, I’m tired. Instead of talking about theoretical problematic shit, we need to start talking about quantifiable harm. Because as far as I can tell, the most real, immediate, and quantifiable harm done because of anybody’s favorite ships or pieces of media seems to consistently be the kind that’s done to the people who experience verbal violence and abuse and manipulation and suicide baiting and death threats from the people who have a problem.

[kairos-polaris]

Eris(Demon’s daughter)

Demon's head daughter couldn't be anything other than perfect. She must master every martial art. Her education must be flawless. Failure is not a choice. Even the smallest mistake is a disgrace.

Marinette knew it. That’s why spent hours and hours training and perfectimg her form. But something was lacking and she craved to find it.

Chapter 2, 3, 4, 5

On the far east, high up in the mountains is a city, Nanda Parbat. There hides and lives Ra's al Ghul, the demon's head. 

The walls in Nanda Parbat have no warmth. They're permanently soaked in blood and death. At night you can hear the anguish screams of the long dead. 

In a small room without windows lives a girl with eyes as blue as sapphires and hair as black as night. Dark skin makes pale scars visible. 

The only welcome visitor is the girl's sister. She will tend to the girl's wounds and help her prepare for sleep. 

"You must be more careful, Marinette." Berated her Talia. "Your training will grow harder with time. You must be ready for this, ya albi. I can't lose you."

"Why do we have to train so hard?" 

"Father has a lot of enemies. We must know how to protect ourselves," Talia answers softly. 

"The League doesn't condone uselessness and everyone must reach a certain standard. It's even higher for us because of our father. And I am sure you enjoy a part of your training, don't you?"

"Yes, I enjoyed training with Lady Shiva. She taught me how to use a war fan. Dansen uchiwa* is my favorite, but mubuchae is nice, too." At her sister's questioning look she continued: It protects my arm and I can use it to dodge attacks. Then I will stab the attacker using balisong**. .. And I can also.." the next fifteen minutes were spent discussing different ways of using war fans and daggers. They briefly touched on the subject of Japanese martial arts and weapon making.

"...and that's why I prefer straight blades." Talia stopped talking and looked at Marinette. The girl was staring at the wall. 

"Why can't we just leave?" Marinette suddenly spoke. "We would go everywhere and stay nowhere. You could pose as my guardian. If anyone asked about parents, we would give them a sob story about their death." The brief training with Lady Shiva made the walls in Nanda Parbat feel more suffocating than before.

"Oh, ya albi, you know that's impossible. Father would track us down immediately. He has ears and eyes everywhere." Talia chuckled bitterly. Somehow her answer made Mari more enthusiastic. 

"But you want to run away! That's what matters! One day we will bribe Nyssa and she will help us. And we won't have to live under our father's tumb." 

Talia just hugged her sister. Getting out of the League of Shadows was impossible for them. Especially for them. She could only pray that Marinette would be happy one day.

***

Eight-year-old Marinette understood it the day she failed for the first time. She stood there, before her father, waiting for his verdict. The small voice in her head whispered how it wasn’t her fault, that even famous designers don’t have this much security as Gabriel Agreste does. “I should have been prepared for everything. This failure will be my lesson if I survive this,” she thought bitterly.

Demon's head daughter couldn't be anything other than perfect. She must master every martial art. Her education must be flawless. Failure is not a choice. Even the smallest mistake is a disgrace.

Demon's head daughter isn't a child, she's a weapon. A perfectly sharpened dagger.

"You failed me, Marinette. Not only you didn’t kill that man, but you were caught and Talia had to save you. As your master, I’m furious, as your father, I’m disappointed.”

The cold stone hurt her knees and her ears burnt from embarrassment. His words were sharper than the sharpest knife. That’s why he is called Demon’s Head after all.   

“I’m sorry, father. It won’t happen again. I..” Marinette tried her best not to falter under Ra’s’ glare.   “I don’t remember giving you permission to speak.” His words left goosebumps on her skin and Marinette had to bite her tongue to stay silent. “Your actions will have consequences, so be prepared for your punishment. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, father,” she answered softly, but Ra’s seemed satisfied and dismissed Marinette to her room. She left as fast as possible.In her room, she would think about the nature of punishment and try to be prepared. Hey, how does one prepare for their death?

Marinette was sure Ra’s wouldn’t let her walk away without proper punishment, but she decided to humor her sister.

***

After that Marinette had to spend even more time training and studying. Talia was happy to hear that. “Ya albi, if you continue training, you won’t fail again. You were lucky father decided to pardon you.”

Marinette spent a lot of time practicing with her blades and darts. War fans slowly became her weapon of choice. You can hide it. You can show off with it. There are multiple ways of using it making it perfect for Marinette.

Unfortunately, Marinette never used sharp tessen during practice. Later, Marinette would regret it, because fighting ten trained and armed assassins with two fans wasn’t her definition of fun.

Scratch it. It was hell. Given the number of attacks, she could avoid them only for so long. She couldn’t take out her daggers.

Swish. Kick. Jump. Repeat.

Marinette slowly rose from the water. The first thing she noticed was the absence of scars. "How many new scars will litter my skin before I die again?" She wondered silently.

Marinette was skilled, but so were the assassins. And it still took them an hour to take her down. “At least I managed to injure them, too.”    

***

Waking up in Lazarus' Pits wasn't something she wanted to repeat ever again. The water felt gross on her skin and the smell made her want to throw up.

Another prominent difference was anxiety she could feel in her bones. She craved to do something, to the blood of her killers on her hands, to feel how life leaves their bodies. A whisper in her head sung how glorious it would feel to get her revenge.

"It's not punishment when I feel so high and mighty, father. It's a gift I will treasure." With these words Marinette dug her nails into her arm, leaving small marks. The skin felt too clean for her.

“Marinette,” he greeted her. “I see you’re feeling better now. What is the reason behind your visit?”

In this state, Marinette didn't notice her sister entered. Talia stood there watching the last bits of Marinette's innocence fly to hell. It was the point of no return.

***

Ra’s was sitting in his room when he felt movement behind him.

Marinette tilted her head and slowly answered; “I wanted to ask your permission to return the favor.”

“You can do whatever you want to them. Just leave them alive. But you were very effective at taking them down, so three of them can’t stand.” This was the closest thing to praise she could ever hear from Ra’s al Ghul.

One time Talia gave her a book with Greek myths. It soon became her favorite book. She loved the stories about gods, and heroes, and monsters. The heroes knew when to kill and when to spare someone. Marinette could admire this.

“Thank you, father.” With a small nod, she left to enact her revenge. If there were more screams than usual, nobody paid attention to it.  

***

Reading was a great way to escape reality. Books told her about different worlds and people. Unfortunately, Ra’s had to approve every book given to her. Only for very significant achievement could she read something other than textbooks.

“I just don’t understand what you see in that fury! His enemies constantly escape Arkham and he still won’t kill them. His negligence hurts other people and they still call him a hero! Father respects him, too!” it wasn’t a common occurrence for them to argue about Batman, but Marinette was just too annoyed with Talia’s pinning.

“Bruce impressed our father with his skills and devotion to a cause. Bruce is hopeful. He believes everyone can change and be a better version of themselves. We know that’s not true and some people will never change.”

Marinette wasn’t impressed. “I know some people can’t change. We work with some of them.” Talia just laughed at her expression..

“One day you will fall in love. That day you will understand me.”

“Ew, disgusting. I will never, ever fall in love. Especially not with a hero. I’m sure of it.”  Talia just shook her head fondly. Her little sister still has so much to learn.

“And where will you go, Marinette?” Asked Talia. Marinette spared her a glance noting bags under her eyes and multiple cuts.

***

Eleven-year-old Marinette had an agency. She had a goal. She knew what she wanted to do.

“Gotham. I will tell Batman everything I know about the Light. But don’t think I do it to help him. I want to destroy everything for our father.” She threw a suitcase with much more force than needed.

“Why now? You seemed so eager to please him.”

“Pits did something with my brain and changed my memories about The fight. I thought it was their own decision. With this knowledge I asked father for permission to avenge myself. My overall perception of him changed.”

“And now you are angry. But you shouldn’t run away like this. Batman won’t trust you. He will think you are a double agent sent by the League.” Marinette just grinned at that.

“I will give B information and leave immediately. I’m going to travel the world. I have money and I can take care of myself.” Talia sighed and took Marinete’s face in her hands.

“I know I can’t change your mind, but please be safe, ya albi.” She whispered softly.

“Thank you, Tals.”

“You are more important to me than our father.”

[silverandsoulbonded]

A Life of Stories - Soulbonding and My Story

It’s the late 90’s. A tiny child sits in the grip of wonder on the carpet two feet from the old, analog television screen. The volume is turned way down on a Saturday morning, so as not to wake the parents. And Digimon: Adventure is playing.

That kid was me.

I spent the next several days telling anyone and everyone I knew about the trials and bravery of my favorite new friends on the TV. Taichi and his Digi-pals.

Every Saturday morning I tuned in with wrapped attention to check in on my friends. Because that is what they were. I could not explain it at the time, and looking back I see that I did not understand just how powerful my love for them was, but over the years I began to notice the disparity between my experience and that of others. The glazed looks I received when I tried to communicate just how much the “stories” around me meant to my heart and spirit.

As I grew, so too did my well of worlds. When it was not Digimon, it turned to Batman and the DC Animated Universe. Over the years, as things became harder and harder for me in an unsafe household, I would reach out to those stories for safety and comfort. In the dead of night, listening to shouts, I would silently pray for Batman to come in and save me. I would think about Static, from Static Shock, and his bravery. I would long for the Justice League to show me hope.

I grew up in a conservative Protestant Christian household, and I was quickly taught from the moment I could understand stories that they were not real. It seemed a strange double-standard to me, as we read of Jesus and his amazing feats, recorded centuries ago by the hands of men but somehow “different” than the other stories I consumed, which also taught me and affected me just as emotionally.

It would not be until adulthood that I could finally articulate this incongruity I felt, much less possess the bravery and personal freedom to think about it on my own terms. To set aside the pre-packaged “truth” I had been fed growing up in order to find my own fresh fruits of wisdom and meaning.

Stories. Stories are what sustain humanity. All we have are stories. Even the perceptions we store in our brains are only that. Perceptions. Stories. We can never truly know what an orange is, or who a person is. We only can know our perception of them, and the story of them that lives on within us.

And, sometimes, those stories speak to us in the most fantastic and magical of ways.

Fast forward to 2021.

I am an adult. A practicing witch and pagan. An artist and writer. I am functional and thriving. And I have an unusual family.

Some of the most important people in my life do not exist on the physical plane of this Earth quite the same as other friends of mine. They exist in the subtle realms of Dream and thought and wonder. Over time I have come to find many names for them. Spirits, guides, and “soulbonds”.

I began my foray into the community of “soulbonding” when I began to sense, or rather, acknowledge the living quality of some of the “characters” I was writing about. One character in particular, a being who introduced himself to me in a dream, had me particularly flummoxed. I called him Asura, and from the moment he entered my life through that dream, my entire world changed. It was akin to stepping onto a roller coaster car while it was still moving—except this roller coaster had no track and no limits. His entire presence permeated my life, my thoughts, my daydreams. I wrote about him, and it was my writing about him that led me to thoughts, questions, and explorations I would have never dared otherwise. By finding him, he led me to find myself, and for that I shall be forever grateful.

At some point, I, and even my closest friends, became aware of a “spookiness” about my dogged pursuit of this mysterious character. I started to know things about him and his world, and make connections in his story, that seemed to come out of nowhere but which all cohered together perfectly. Without a fault, I would learn tidbits about him that would suddenly fit with another thing I learned later, though I never had to strain to achieve such things. It was not so much that I was “creating” the story so much as “recording” it. There were elements of his story that overlapped with our world’s history and it was spooky as all get out when I learned about historical facts through his story and later found them to also be reflected in my own world, which has a similar timeline to his. A sort of “sibling world” to his.

We also noticed the tremendous power of my emotional connection to him and his friends. My boyfriend at the time even became jealous of Asura, though I assured him that was absurd. “Asura is just a story,” I would say. And my boyfriend thought the same yet he, and others, seemed unable to ignore the fact that there seemed to be something weird going on.

And, one day, with horror, I realized I was in love with Asura—fortunately, by that time I had since broken up with my boyfriend—but the idea terrified me. Unsurprisingly, this sent a conservative Christian “good kid” such as myself down into a spiral of questions and disbelief.

I felt the imposter syndrome. I thought, “I must be insane.” Yet, no one, myself included, could deny the reality of this connection I felt.

Over time, Asura and his friends began to speak to me. They guided me and provided loving support to me. I, at the time, figured I was either crazy or eccentric.

“Maybe this is a writer thing,” I thought.

And it was that thought that led me to soulbonding. I learned of other writers who also had their “characters” come alive to them. Alice Walker, author of the famed American work, The Color Purple, allegedly purported that she had received her story straight from the characters’ mouths one afternoon, during which she sat down to tea with them and learned their tale. And that is when I found a forum site called “The Living Library” (now defunct), and learned the term “soulbonding”.

In that community I found others who echoed my story in various ways. Deep personal connections to entities from other worlds, many of whom they found depicted in the flourishing ecosystem of thought and imagination, stories, that surrounds the human race. Others, discovered their unconventional friends via dreams, visions, or odd circumstances just like myself. One person I met had actually found one such friend first, in this instance a version of Edward Elric from “Full Metal Alchemist”, before learning years later—with a start I imagine—that Edward actually had an entire manga and anime about him.

I say “version” because another amazing phenomenon I discovered was the occurrence of many instantiations of people, characters, from infinite worlds, all with slight variances from one another. That is when I was introduced to the idea of Multiverse Theory and Many Worlds Theory.

As my personal investigations led me down various spiritual rabbit holes, and eventually led me to spirit-working and witchcraft, I found more and more ideas that seemed to jive with my experience.

I discovered what are colloquially called “pop pantheons” in occult circles. Pantheons of spirits and deities who connect to pop culture figures in human society—and even figures from “fiction”. And there is a whole, thriving community of people who lead successful, fulfilled, and meaningful spiritual lives working with these entities. I learned that reality and “truth” are not objective like I had been taught so long ago. And I finally understood MY truth—all we have are myths and stories. Experience is subjective and the only measure of meaning and truth we have is in the effects we see in our own lives.

With tremendous wonder and happiness, and even love, I have seen the effects my unconventional friends and family have wrought in my life. Asura is my familiar spirit now, and I have a whole host of other beings whom I love. Some come from “personal gnosis”, or unique experience, such as Asura. Others are beings who have come to me from the vast world of collective Dreaming that permeates our world, evident in media sources, in the form of stories.

I still have moments of doubt. I sometimes wonder, “Gee-golly-whiz, am I NUTS?” But then I remember that my truth exists only in my own experience. My ethereal family brings me happiness, growth, and meaning. And there really is no difference between my relationship with them and the relationship I had with Jesus so long ago. Every experience is real to me, and brings with it change and good. And that is what matters.

In this blog I intend to share my experience, in hopes that it can offer a beacon to others in similar situations. Every person’s experience is unique, though I hope mine can at least offer some hope, understanding, and love to another.

Cheers.

And happy story-telling.

- Cosmic

[kendrixtermina]

Appreciating the Range of Type 6, or, one stereotypical example, and three that aren’t.

I want to tell you about some type 6 ppl that I know in my personal life.

Exemplar #1: F. B.

Complete Stats

Wing: 5 p or cp: largely phobic – lots of safety worries, outright authoritarian follower personality Instinct: sp/soc Trifix: 613  - 6w5 1w2 3w2 (“The Taskmaster” or “The Middle Manager”) jungian: ISTJ / SLI-Te oldham: Conscientious & Aggressive Essence Type: Mars Temperament: Pure Choleric

What he’s like:

Not pleasant.

Every “strict conservative middle aged guy” stereotype in the book. Control freak, makes a mountain out of every molehill, sees the world as full of axe murderers, judgemental as fuck, horrible temper and yet completely impersonable, all his opinions are copypasted from right-wing news sites. When they say war is good he’s for war, and when they say war is bad he’ll be like “At least Trump did not start any more wars” without perceiving a contradiction. Despite this, he believes is very hot, principled and funny. He is none of these things. He puts people down nonstop. My knowledge of neurochemistry tells me that he must have emotions somewhere or he couldn’t function, but I ain’t ever seen a single one of those emotions. They’re all for his job and a few trusted mentor figures. And his mom. At least he loved her.

If you say anything he doesn’t like, he “throws the sofa out the window” as his wife once put it.

How he’s a Type 6:

Well, he’s pretty much every negative stereotype in a nutshell… other than distrusting his partner. But that might be cause hes sx blind, or cause the wife is big on monogamy & wouldn’t ever cheat.

The one positive trait of 6 that he has is that he does his research. Before moving anywhere he googles the crime rates and if you need a doctor he might find you the best one. But even that can be overriden by ideology (hydroxychloroquine!). And if you don’t take his exact advice, there goes the sofa out the window again…

And I guess the work ethic from all 3 parts of the trifix really comes through – he hasn’t had a single bad grade in his life and always keeps collecting new certifications, and will make sure you hear about it...

Exemplar #2: I.

Complete Stats

Wing: 5 P or cp: pretty much an even mix of phobic and counterphobic Instinct: sp/soc Trifix: 614 - 6w5 1w2 4w3 (Would prolly call herself “The Big Pain” rather than “The Philosopher” ^^°) jungian: INTJ / ILI-Ni oldham: Serious & Conscientious Essence Type: Saturn Temperament: Chlor-Mel

What she’s like:

I’d describe her as serious, mature, discerning, focused and passionate about her friendships, if perhaps somewhat forceful at times, with a dry, sarcastic sense of humor.

Comes across like someone who knows what she’s talking about, with well-articulated points.

Often the Responsible Sibling, Designated Sanity Checker or Bullshit Detector.

Prefers to plan everything in advance in typical Ni dom fashion, even amusement part trips. Gets somewhat anxious without a future plan or shedule.

Often mistaken for a whole lot more sociable and confident that she really feels inside. (even I kinda bought it and got her whole darn trifix wrong on my first typing attempt, though that was when I was new to typology) She can act the boss act temporarily to get the situation over with, but she actually hates making decisions.

She does however have the occasional cute/pure moment where that lower function block comes out.

How she’s a Type 6:

She has saved our family from many a terrible restaurant by making sure to check the reviews. The preparing for all possible dangers is very 6, the acting tough outwardly when youre inwardly anxious, the intellectual problem solving & some tendency towards organization/responsibility/ “logistic” intelligence.

One online test she took gave her 5w6 instead of 6w5 but that’s probably just the ITxx-ness leaking in. I remember this one time we were discussing this artsy-fartsy theater play to which we’d had fascinatingly different reactions, and at one point I half-jokingly said something like “But does anyone ever really feel connected to others, or is that a myth?” to which she wrote, “[Name], what the fuck? Yes I do.” and then immediately deleted it. That’s more of a 6 reaction innit?

Nonetheless the wing does feature in significantly – for example she got very well informed about a lot of topics because she researched them to assuage a random survival-related fear, like, “How to make sure I have enough retirement money”

Exemplar #3: M.

Complete Stats

Wing: 7 p or cp: largely phobic Instinct: sp/sx Trifix: 692 - 6w7 9w1 2w1 (Fortunately very much a “Good Samaritan” rather than “The Stockholm”) jungian: ISFP / SEI-Fi oldham: Sensitive & Devoted Essence Type: Lunar-Venus Temperament: Pure Supine

What she’s like:

Precious! Sweet, nice, good listener, friendly, gives all the best gifts. But also perceptive and good at understanding people, eg. mediating to the parents when one of the younger sisters is having An Emotion™ or winning the trust of problem children.

Unlike I. Who has some soc that helps her keep track of a larger circle of friends despite her introversion, M. tends to enjoy the closeness with her family and have just a few very close friends. Excellent friend material all around! The sx and Se also come out in enjoying art forms involving the body like theatre or dance.

She can be a bit shy, conflict-avoidant and occasionally a lil bit panicky though.

As a small kid she used to be super duper shy but then a wise english teacher encouraged her to play a big role in a play, and since then she’s a lot more confident and doesn’t let ppl push her around without limit, though she’s still a quiet, helpful person. There you see the difference that a good teacher can make.

How she’s a Type 6:

For one thing she moves and emotes faster than a core 9 would, and she fits the body language – big eyes that move around a lot, stands a bit lopsided, talks in a shrill voice on the rare occasions where we exhaust her patience etc. As a xSFx and a w7 she shows mostly the “warm, friendly, likeable” side of type 6. She also has a very 6-ish tendency to very frequently ask people’s opinions & feedback before making decisions. (the other fixes probably add to this)

Alas, she also has a little bit of of the fear/insecurity.

Also she has a social/care job which might be seen as 6-ish desire to serve the community.

Exemplar #4: J.

Complete Stats

Wing: 7 P or cp: largely counterphobic Instinct: sx/soc ?? definitely not sp first. Trifix: 638 - 6w7 3w4 8w9(?) (Shall she be a “Justice Fighter” or a “Kyle”? Only time will tell.) jungian: ISTP / LSI-Se ?? Oldham: ? some Dramatic & Serious, perhaps ? Essence Type: Definitely Mercury Temperament: San-Mel

What she’s like:

The first adjective that usually comes to my mind is ‘cool’. Sassy, energetic & a little bit tough, but also affectionate when she wants to be. (though in admiring way rather than a mushy one)

She says the coolest things, has a certain sly sort of cleverness, and an astonishly good poker face. Bit of an occasional prankster. Hilarious. Knows all sort of cool science facts. Avid gamer. 

Not especially popular or over the top sociable, but she gets sad if no one pays attention to her a while. Will act visibly moody where ppl can see sad or worried and can catastrophize a bit in such situations.

How she’s a Type 6:

I first though we might be getting an ExxP type 7 since she was a pretty energetic child, but once puberty hit and independent thought manifested, she turned out a whole lot too reactive and ‘edgy’ for this, and more on the ‘moderate introvert’ side of things.

Since then the sisterly dynamic has been like one fluffy golden dog and 3 hissing black cats. Hissing Cats #1 and #2 are very proud of her, but cat #1 was forced to conclude that she’s probably not a positive outlook type.

Out of all the reactive types 6 fits best because she does broadcast group identity (like wearing merchandise of her favorite media and wearing buttons in solidarity with ppl she likes.) & has a big case of Big Sibling worship for M, I, and someone else who isn’t on this list due to being a 9. (a 4 or 8 might like their older siblings but probably wouldn’t constantly stress the admiration.), but she can also show lasting, pouty displeasure with authority figures who have slighted her. (Like that one time I went too far in teasing her...)

I’m just assuming the 8 fix because that tends to make 6s more bold, louder & more shameless.

Basically she is the “punk teen” type of 6. She can be a bit dramatic & over-the top but still come to her family on advice (even advice on pranks!) in ways that xSTPs of other enneagrams prolly wouldn’t.

She also tends to use self-deprecating humor in tough situations and deflects compliments to present herself as ‘ordinary’.

...

This may sound like I’m really getting down on my first example (I won’t pretend that I’m not) but the point in bringing him up is that the reason he’s like this is: He was subject to really bad parenting that put a lot of fear into him, there was no good parenting to teach him broader coping strategies, he lived in a crappy environment that crushed his dreams, in a sense ‘confirming’ those fears and making him double down, resulting in a person who is just always rigidly following the same predictable pattern or jumping from one automatic reaction to the next with very little pausing and thinking. That goes for the other types too: A ‘stereotypical’ person is a desperate person ruled by fear, who cant stop or soften up even for an instant cause they constantly feel this fire of threat under their arse.

A lot of descriptions say that 6s ‘Follow authority’ but most would balk at the notion – ‘I do the research!’ they might argue ‘I don’t just trust anyone’ or ‘I’m actually a rebel’. There is of course such a thing as denial  that’s more like the extreme case.

But with a more average, functional 6 it’s not so much ‘obedience’ as that they just like to bounce their ideas off of others to get feedback, or that they feature in other’s viewpoints. So you might get someone who can naturally use feedback (something other ppl may have to learn first) or who is very considerate of others (which others might have to consciously remind themselves to do.)

Those are sometimes pretty good traits actually.

On the other hand this is probably part of what makes decisions hard cause they consider all these possible scenarios of how things might displease or cause harm to everyone involved.

Being able to naturally snap into Action Mode under stress looks a bit enviable from the outside, but I. assures me that it’s actually super stressful & exhausting, even for someone who doesn’t get to a point of just being unreasonably aggro at you.

Though even an extreme case like F.B. would probably claim that he ‘did the research’ even as he’s 1:1 quoting the Pope at you, and then saying that you ‘have to be respectful’ even if you don’t even believe in Christianity. Hence why you get a lot of authoritarians talking about “disrespect”. You didn’t “fail to obey”, you “disrespected the flag” or  “hurt the feelings of the Chinese people”. Because they’re still trying or inwardly thinking that they’re doing the consideritation & considering other’s PoV thing when they’ve long since crossed from respect and consideration into mindless obedience, all while still thinking that they’re very sceptical and discerning cause after all they really distrust the other political party or whatever.  

In a way you get this obsession with ‘mind control’ cause they’re not unaware of & very much looking to guard the blind spot. They’re adults trying to do adult things.

For example, if I voiced an opinion to F. B. which he didn’t like, his reaction was often to ask “who told you that”

That’s just how he seems to think opinions work, somebody tells them to you.

Makes one wonder how he thinks new opinions start.

Yeah - Nobody told me that. I concocted it myself in some corner of my head. And in the interest of objectivity, I should stress that you can also end talking out of your ass that way, if you’re not basing it on enough outside data. Making up new shit has more of a quadratic than a linear learning curve – at least with copying you get something semi-useful right away. In making up your own you might be really off a long time before you stumble on something useful.

Also, I was young at the time and it’s not wholly unreasobale to think that an inexperienced person might be duped. I reacted really badly in part cause he hit my own ego buttons cause I was of course proud of this epiphany that I had concocted by myself, and now he says (or so I perceived it, being sensitive to accusations of incompetence) that I’m too dumb to form an opinion, so of course I launched into full Obnoxious Reddit Dude Mode.

In I. It manifests more on a reasonable useful level like “Oh wait, should [young cousin] be on TikTok? I don’t want him to get sucked into some cultish BS.” which is at least something the parents should have on the radar/ warn him about even if they do let him use TikTok, because for all that it is vital for him to get his experience with independent socializing & experimentig with sel-presentation, people do sometimes get suckered into cults or goaded into unsafe tests of courage.

And in a sense… maybe they overamphasize it but to some extent they’re also simply consciously aware/ mindful of it. The rest of us are not immune to propaganda after all, solong as it’s presented in a way pleasing to our egos. Any type structure can become a ‘hook’ if you’re not careful.

[queerpyracy]

tagged by @gretchensinister and i am enjoying a moment when i do not have to keep an eye on cows, dogs or the hay fields so !

rules: tag nine people you want to get to know better/catch up with!

favorite color: red!! especially a rich, darker red. the brighter/more orange-y ones hurt the eyes but a bloody dark red? sexy

currently reading: and the band played on by randy shilts, i've been putting this one off for ages on account of its subject matter and length but my idiot ass decided plus one year into a different -demic that now was the time; sand talk by tyson yunkaporta, i can't read more than a chapter at a time bc i have to sit and chew it over for a while, am enjoying it Very Much; gods and myths of northern europe by h.r. ellis davidson; frankenstein by mary shelley but y'all knew that whether you wanted to or not

last song: where did you sleep last night by jake blount (listen to jake blount, especially the album spider tales)

last movie: the conjuring. first time watching it! there were things i really liked about it but i'm beginning to get the sense i'm pretty ambivalent about horror movies in general

last series: can't remember the last one i finished bc i have a terrible habit of Not Doing That even with shows i like but i tentatively watched the first episode of the frankenstein chronicles mostly bc i could not figure out what the hell was actually going on in the plot from any of the descriptions i read. i am not endeared by sean bean's Dead Wife And Child backstory. might stick with it at least until i have a better sense of what the plot actually is

sweet, spicy or savory: this is such a mood-dependent question but in this moment uhhh spicy. we love a hot chip

craving: a trip to the coast and like, a fruity cocktail. not at the same time i would never drink on the oregon coast i know too well how much mother pacific likes to drag people out at random

tea or coffee: tea. the point at which coffee becomes drinkable to me it might as well be chocolate milk. i've been developing strong opinions about which herbal blends from my tea brand of choice make the best iced tea

currently working on: a fic that has outgrown my original intentions for it and so far has a plot to smut ratio that is far too lopsided--hate how i have to make the content i want to see, keeping my family fed and hydrated during hay season and keeping an eye on pregnant cows, trying to develop better work/rest habits and journal more often

tagging @pkmndaisuki, @moriarteaparty, @kymeira, anyone else who wants to!

[365days365movies]

March 15, 2021: Clash of the Titans (1981) (Part One)

This one’s personal…sort of.

Other than the fact that this is based on Greek mythology (previously well-established as one of my favorite subjects), this movie is, in a way, responsible for my existence. And that is because, according to legend, this is the film that my parents went to on their first date. And apparently, it went very well, because I came into being 10 years afterwards. So, yeah, this film is personal, like Dirty Dancing.

And also like Dirty Dancing, I HAVEN’T SEEN IT? I don’t know HOW I escaped seeing this movie. And that’s especially considering that I’ve seen the new one. And that movie was...not great.

Maybe not the worst film I’ve ever seen, but it’s definitely not a good movie. But OK, what’s this one about, exactly? Y’all ready for “The 365 Greek Mythology Hour” again? OK, then, here we go. SING IT LADIES

Clash of the Titans concerns the myth of Perseus, one of the greatest Greek heroes ever. Before Heracles, there was Perseus, son of Zeus. Yeah, Zeus, as he is wont to do, came down to Earth and had some good time with the princess of Argos, the beautiful Danaë. He came upon her while she was locked in a box by her dad, Acrisus, king of Argos.

Yeah, the Oracle at Delphi, ever the wisest, was visited by Acrisus one day, who wanted a son instead of a daughter. The Oracle spoke with Apollo (AKA huffed some of that SWEET SWEET ETHYLENE GAS), and told him that his daughter’s son would kill him. And so, he did the most logical thing: he locked her in a box. Yup. Dick. SPEAKING of dick, Zeus appeared to her in the open box as a golden shower. NOT THAT KIND OF GOLDEN SHOWER. I mean a literal shower of gold. Although...I wouldn’t put it past Zeus, of all gods. Dude was kinky.

So, Perseus is conceived, and Acrisus responds to this with his usual tact; he stuffs Danaë into a SMALLER box, and shoves it out to sea. She gives birth to a boy in the box, and the two eventually wash up on the shore of an island, where a fisherman finds them and takes them in. The boy is named Perseus.

Years go by, and Perseus’ mom is sought by his adoptive dad’s brother, and the king of the island, Polydectes. Polydectes is kind of a dick, and Perseus, now an adult man, doesn’t like him. The feeling’s mutual, and Polydectes has a plan. He holds a banquet, and forces all invited to bring a gift of horses. Perseus, being pretty poor, cannot bring this gift, but promises on his honor to bring whatever Polydectes wants of him, no matter what. And Polydectes asks for the head of Medusa.

Fuck.

Medusa’s one of your classic Greek monsters, a Gorgon. She’s one of Athena’s victims, formerly a vain temple priestess who was, well...raped by Poseidon, let’s be honest. However, since Athena’s priestesses were meant to be celibate, she was the one who ended up being punished. Fuckin’ YIKES. But OK, literal ancient gender politics aside, Athena cursed her with snakes for hair, and the ability to turn her victims into stone with a gaze into her eyes. Classic. And sure death for anyone who went after her.

So, Perseus is fucked. He’s gotta kill Medusa, and he doesn’t even have a way to get to her place. And that’s when he gets a favor from none other than Athena, goddess of wisdom and wartime strategy, as well as Perseus’ half-sister. I love Athena (other than the Medusa bullshit, obviously), and this is one of her most prominent roles in mythology. Well, that and the creation of spiders. That was also punishing a woman for her vanity, by the way. She has a type.

First, Perseus was told to find the Hesperides, nymphs of the dusk and dawn who would give him weapons. He got their location from the Greae, more colloquially known as the Gray Sisters. Weirdly enough, you may know them from Hercules, where they were combined with the Fates. They don’t have the future gimmick, but they do have that whole “sharing an eye” thing. Also, they share a tooth. Neat.

Anyway, Perseus takes their eye hostage, which makes them tell him where the Hesperides are. He goes to them, and they give him a bag to hold Meduga’s head. Then, the gods step in. Zeus decides to be a good dad for a change, and gives him an indestructible sword, and Hades’ Helmet of Invisibility. Hermes, another of Perseus’ half-brothers, gives him a pair of winged sandals to fly with. And Athena, technically Perseus’ patron, gives him a mirrored shield.

Perseus heads to the cave of Medusa, uses the shield, then goes up to her and cuts off her head. From her neck, for some goddamn reason, and golden sword pops out, alongside this guy.

Yeah, he’s not made out of clouds. He’s actually the, uh...he’s the result of Poseidon’s crime against Medusa. Fucked up, innit? Pegasus flies up to hang out with Bellerophon to kill the Chimera, and Perseus heads back to...actually, he goes to ANOTHER king who was a dick to him, and turns him into stone with Medusa’s head. Kings hate Perseus, seriously.

Perseus heads home after that, and goes through Ethiopia. There, he meets the King and Queen, Cepheus and Cassiopeia. Cassie’s gorgeous, but she tells Perseus that her daughter Andromeda is, like, WAY hotter, as beautiful as the sea goddesses. Which PISSES OFF POSEIDON (who is basically the villain of Perseus’ story, let’s be honest), and he send a sea monster named Cetus to destroy the kingdom, UNLESS they sacrifice Andromeda to it. And, because kings are assholes in this story, they do, chaining Andromeda to a rock. But, because Perseus believes that all women are queens, he goes to rescue her, and kills Cetus using all of his things. He weds Andromeda, and turns his romantic rival Phineus into stone using Medusa’s head.

Usually, that’s where retellings end, because there’s a recurring trend to Perseus’ story after that. A king is an asshole, Perseus whips out the head, asshole becomes statue of an asshole. However, there is that prophecy to contend with, about Perseus killing his grandfather. See, Acrisus basically retired by this point, and lived in the kingdom of Thessaly. But one day, he went to see some games, in which Perseus was competing in the discus. Well, wouldn’t you know it, Perseus isn’t great at it, and loses control of the discus, which hits Acrisus, killing him instantly.

Utimate frisbee, man. It’s dangerous.

There’s another version where Perseus uses Medusa’s head to turn his dad into stone, surprise surfuckingprise there. But yeah, after that the story varies. Sometimes he becomes a king, sometimes he doesn’t. He basically always marries Andromeda and has kids with her. Sometimes he founds a city of his own, sometime he doesn’t. And in one ending, where he’s lived to be an old king, he fulfills his ultimate destiny and turns Medusa’s head on himself. Geez.

So, yeah, there you go. That’s the story of Perseus. Let’s, uh...let’s see what the movie does, huh? This is another Ray Harryhausen joint, so I’m...tentatively excited for it. We’ll see how badly they mess up the myth, and whether or not it works despite that. So, ENOUGH of me lecturing you guys, huh?

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

We begin approximately where most iterations do: King Acrisius (Donald Houston) has just cast his daughter Danae (Vida Taylor) and grandson Perseus into the ocean, containing them within a wooden chest in order to “forgive his daughter’s crimes”. Yeah, sure, OK, buddy. Whatever helps you sleep at night.

This also pisses off Zeus (Laurence Mother Fucking Olivier), who consorts with the rest of the Olympians on what to do to Acrisus. Said Olympians include Hera (Claire Bloom), goddess of marriage and women; Thetis (Maggie Mother Fucking Smith), goddess of the sea and leader of the Nereids; Athena (Susan Fleetwood), goddess of wisdom and strategic victory; Aphrodite (Ursula Andress), goddess of love; and Poseidon (Jack Gwillim), god of the sea.

Hera tries to defend Acrisus, noting his prior years of devotion to Zeus and the other gods. But Zeus ain’t HAVING that shit, and tells Poseidon to destroy the city of Argos in revenge. This is to be done by...releasing the last of the Titans? Which is apparently the Kraken. I mean...no, a thousand times no, but whatever.

This little tantrum is Zeus’ way of showing his love towards Danae, whose child Perseus is his. This is helpfully pointed out by Thetis, who seems...a little spiteful, as much as Hera is about Perseus. Seems like she’s stoking some fires. Hmm. She is Queen of the Nerieds, so she may play a larger role later on.

Beneath the sea, Poseidon readies himself to set loose the Kraken and destroy Argos, at Zeus’ command. Zeus, meanwhile, kills Acrisus by using a clay voodoo doll of sorts to strike him down. And that’s when Poseidon lets loose the Kraken for the first time. And the Kraken...

Guys, the Kraken looks...actually, I’ll spoil his appearance later on. The Kraken destroys the city, and Zeus kills Acrisius. So much for the goddamn prophecy that explains why Acrisius did what he did, but fuck me, I guess. Danae and Perseus, meanwhile, have safely arrived on the shores of the island of Seriphus, at Zeus’ insistence. There, Perseus grows from child into a fine young man, with Zeus always watching over him...and with Thetis and company always watching over Zeus. Interesting.

The adult Perseus (Harry Hamlin) lives happily on the island, much to Perseus’ delight. Thetis, on the other hand, asks about her mortal son, a young man named Calibos (Neil McCarthy). Apparently, Calibos is a bit of a monster, and while he’d been set to wed the princess Andromeda, he’s also managed to kil all living things on the island that he’s been given, save for a single winged horse named Pegasus. Hence...he is to be punished.

Calibos, by the way? Entirely original creation of the film, and there’s nobody like him in Greek mythology. Anyway, Thetis is crushed by this, and decides to exact revenge of both Perseus and her son’s would-be fiancee, Andromeda. She pledges to open up Perseus’ eyes to grim reality, and does so by placing him in the kingdom of Joppa, where Calibos was originally set to rule alongside Andromeda.

Here, in an amphitheatre, he encounters a mysterious masked and robed figure, who quickly reveals themselves to be Ammon (Burgess Meredith), a poet and playwright. Apparently, Ammon wears his disguise to scare off trespassers. He tells Perseus that all of Joppa is in a tizzy about a curse of some kind, and that the story of the fallen kingdom of Argos is a famous legend.

Ammon tells Perseus to go back home to Seriphus, but Perseus tells Ammon that he’s promised to restore his mother’s old kingdom, and decides that Joppa would be a good start. Despite his drive, though, Zeus is pissed off at Thetis for plopping Perseus down unprepared. He tells the other goddesses to give him gifts to help him claim the kingdom of Joppa as his own. This includes a helmet from Athena, a sword from Aphrodite, and a shield from Hera. I mean...OK, that’s super goddamn weird, but OK.

After Zeus leaves, the goddesses rightfully complain about Zeus’ constant womanizing, but note that he probably doesn’t remember Danae at this point, is is most likely acting out of stubborn pride for his “handsome son”. Their words, not mine.

In Joppa, Perseus finds the gifts by the statues of their grantors. The sword from Aphrodite is adamantine, like the original myth, and slices through marble without a blemish. The shield from Hera...talks. Yeah. The shield bears the visage of Zeus, who tells him that the weapons are gifts from the gods, and that the helmet from Athena turns the wearer invisible. I mean, fuck Hades, I guess, but OK. Technically Athena did give the helmet to Perseus, so OK.

Armed with his new gear, an invisible Perseus immediately takes off to see Joppa, sans his sword. We only see his footsteps in the sand as he leaves, which is legitimately a VERY neat effect, and I’m not sure how they did it, but it’s neat as hell. Off to Joppa, a vaguely Phoenician/Persian kingdom, despite the fact that the original Joppa, or Jaffa, is a port city in Israel.

There, he meets a soldier, Thallo (Tim Pigott-Smith), who tells him of the situation. Since Calibos fell to Zeus’ wrath, Andromeda rejected him, allowing any suitor to try for her hand, whether they be royal or not. To do so, they must answer a riddle. If they fail to answer, the would-be suitor is burned to death. This is lorded over by Queen Cassiopeia (Sian Phillips), while Andromeda (Judi Bowker) lives in the tower of the palace.

Which is why Perseus IMEDIATELY uses the helmet to go into her room that night! CLASSY, PERSEUS. There, he sees...a giant vulture bring a cage to Andromeda’s balcony. No idea where in the fuck this is going, but that’s a damn good looking vulture. God, I love Harryhausen.

Anyway, the vulture is here for Andromeda’s soul, which leaves her body and goes to sit in the cage. The vulture takes off with it, al as the invisible Perseus watches on. He takes this opportunity to touch Andromeda’s face in her sleep (stop, Perseus, for the love of Zeus), then decides that winning Andromeda is his destiny. And so, his simpin’ journey begins.

The next day, Perseus asks Ammon how they can follow the vulture, who has apparently headed to the marshes to the “marsh lord”. To follow the vulture, Ammon suggests that they find and capture the last of the winged horses, known as Pegasus. And we’ve officially lost the track of Greek mythology at this point. Shit.

Well, with Ammon’s help, Perseus captures Pegasus and rides him through the skies. Meanwhile, in Corinth, some dude named Bellerophon is just having a stroke, I guess, because he’s totally fucked now. Whatever. The next day, the vulture comes back to Andromeda’s place and takes her soul to the marsh. But this time, Perseus and Pegasus follow them.

In the marsh, the marsh-lord and riddle-maker is revealed as Calibos, who is still in love with the beautiful Andromeda. As she cannot love him, he provides to her another riddle to give her would-be suitors. In tears, she memorizes the riddle and its answer, Calibos touches her uncomfortably, even as Andromeda asks him to lift his curse and show pity. But he refuses, in pain from his love. Jesus, this movie should be called Clash of the Simps, goddamn.

Perseus was watching the whole thing, though, which Calibos immediately figures out when he sees Perseus’ footsteps in the dirt. As Perseus goes through the swamp looking for Pegasus, he’s found and attacked by Calibos. Calibos, by the way, is a guy in pretty solid makeup in close-up shots, and a Harryhausen model in far-away shots.

The two struggle, the helmet is lost in the swamp, and Perseus draws his sword. But we suddenly cut away to see the daily ritual of the presentation for Andromeda’s would-be suitors. Perseus steps in, having survived the attack from last night, and offers his hand to Andromeda, who recognizes Perseus from a dream. She gives the riddle, which is ABSOLUTE BULLSHIT. Here, I’ll prove it.

In my mind’s eye, I see three circles joined in priceless harmony. Two, full as the moon; one, hollow as a crown. Two from the sea, five fathoms down. One from the Earth, deep under the ground. What is it?

Any guesses? Anybody?

NO MATTER WHAT YOU FAIL. Because the answer is Calibos’ ring! HOW IN THE SHIT WOULD ANYBODY HAVE GUESSED THAT? It’s a golden ring with two pearls on it! WHO KNOWS THAT SHIT? I call complete bullshit, and the only reason that Perseus knows it is because he spied on this last night! Also, because he cut off Calibos’ hand, and made him renounce his curse, which is...never really specified, now that I think about it.

With that, Perseus has both Andromeda’s and Calibos’ hands! HA! Calibos is not as amused, as he preys to his other Thetis, at a temple of hers. He demands that Thetis take revenge on those whom Perseus loves, specifically Andromeda and the city of Joppa itself. He demands justice, but Thetis identifies this correctly as revenge. All the while, Perseus declares his love for Andromeda, and they seal their union with a kiss and ritual.

During this ritual, in which Andromeda and Perseus are essentially married, Queen Cassiopeia, LIKE A DUMBASS, says that Andromeda is more beautiful than the goddess Thetis herself. Yeah. BAD FUCKING MOVE, especially because she said that IN FRONT OF THETIS’ FUCKING SANCTUARY. At least that dumbass move was kept from the original story.

Well, Thetis tells Cassie that she can only atone for her stupidity in one way: sacrifice your daughter to the Kraken in 30 days. Later on, Perseus speaks with Ammon to figure out how they can defeat the Kraken. Ammon suggests speaking with the “Stygian Witches”, who I’m assuming are our Grey Sisters for the night. However, according to Thallo, they have a taste for human flesh. Still, Perseus is going, as are Ammon, Thallo, and Andromeda. But not Pegasus.

Well...shit, man. That changes a few things, huh? But that’ll be addressed...IN PART TWO! See you there!

[dalamusrex]

Campfire

TES Summer Fest 2021 Prompt: Ruins or Campfire

Civilized as he was, Dalamus could not deny the allure of a good hunt. Most hunters used a bow or crossbow, even traps, but Dalamus preferred to get up close and personal. He did not expect anyone except perhaps werebeasts to understand the adrenaline of a chase which ends with teeth sunk into flesh, and blood filling the mouth with warmth.

Nighttime was, of course, the optimal time to hunt. Vampires not only had an advantage in the dark with night vision rivaling that of a sabertooth, but it gave much-needed relief from the light and heat of the sun. The Rift was already one of the warmer Holds, and during the Summer... Well, it was rare to see Dalamus outside of a building except during dawn or dusk during Summer.

Weather and Season aside, The Rift’s forest still retained its Autumn coloration. Red, orange, and yellow leaves blanketed the ground around the bone-white bark of the birch trees. The extensive leaf cover provided ample hiding space for smaller animals and forced any would-be hunter to take very calculated steps. Any crunch of leaves under his boots might as well be an explosion in the otherwise quiet forest.

The vampire lifted his head and smelled the air. Smoke. A forest fire? No, he would have noticed it long before now. The faint glow of a campfire gently illuminated some distant trees, presumably lit just recently, indicating the presence of people. Travelers, perhaps? Such would explain the lack of wildlife in the area. Dalamus had come hunting for deer, or at least a fox. But human would do.

He approached stealthily, careful to avoid dry leaf litter or twigs and keeping well within the shadows cast by the flame. The smell of food wafted in then, of fish skewered on rods to roast. As he moved closer, voices became clearer, telling stories and jokes as they waited for their dinner to cook. From the number of voices, it appeared to be a small family, two parents and a child.

“Papa! Papa,” a young boy chimed in, immediately removing the family from Dalamus’ menu. “Say the one about the Where-Woof again!”

The boy’s father chuckled. “Remember, though, that these are just stories. Werewolves and vampires don’t exist, but they represent parts of us in stories...”

Dalamus settled down to listen, too, seating himself at the base of a tree, hidden behind its trunk, and thought to himself. He could understand not wanting to scare the child by insisting that vampires and werewolves were indeed real, but was it also not irresponsible to hide the truth and prevent one from preparing himself? Sure, people believing vampires a myth was advantageous to Dalamus--it meant they would never see him coming. But being blind to the truth was dangerous and would set the child up to live with a false sense of security. Even more interesting.. that Dalamus cared at all.

The father wove a story fantastical and cheerful despite the subject of werewolves and vampires. He, of course, omitted the more traumatic aspects of such existences, like transformations and dietary needs. And, in the end, everyone.. became friends, and the young boy cheered--evidently this was a favorite story of his. Whether or not the father actually believed in the existence of the undead or beast blood, it was refreshing to hear a story not centered around the gruesome death of the Monster.

The story finished and the fish eaten, the small family readied for bed and prepared their bedrolls. The father doused the flame and everyone wished each other goodnight. Dalamus waited until he heard the slowing of their hearts, then stood to leave and find his own dinner, but he hesitated.

The travelers were not too far from town, but that did not mean they were safe. Plenty of carnivores have tested the limits of the guards’ and watchtowers’ reach and resolve, and know exactly how close to the town they can prowl. This family was not close enough to stay out of danger, especially if something had caught wind of the smoke or smell of fish.

A glance at the camp reassured him they were still asleep. Waking now would offer them quite a fright, as Dalamus took out one of his daggers. But rather than injure any of the humans, he quickly sliced his palm and allowed the blood to ooze into the soil around their camp. The smell of undead blood should ward away most non-starving animals, at least for a few hours.

Dalamus left as stealthily as he arrived, satisfied to help the family who told their son stories of vampires, werewolves, and their friends. Perhaps people were not as cynical as they used to be, after all.

[flamencodiva]

Who Do You Think You Are? 4 - Motel Room

Description: Y/N Y/L/N and Dean Winchester seem to bump into each other quite frequently. What happens when these two hunters rub each other the wrong way?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Bingo Square: Motel Room 

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Angst, Mentions of Child Neglect, Mentions of Drug Abuse.

A/N: For SPN Dean Bingo Round One

Divider by @talesmaniac89​

Y/N groaned as she was pushed up against the wall. The vampire she was facing was snarling at her as she tried to push it away. Using all of her strength and with just a hint of adrenaline, Y/N gave a yell and was able to push the monster off her. She was about to chop off its head when a familiar sound of slicing filled her ears and the head rolled seamlessly. As the body dropped Dean Winchester stood with a cocky grin on his face.   

“Well don't you look like a damsel in distress, Princess,” He walked up to her and winked. 

“Please,” she rolled her eyes and gave him a playful shove, “I had him right where I wanted him.” 

“Oh yeah?” Dean chuckled, “I take it that he would be leaving a very nice bloody hickey on your neck.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she brushed him off. “How did you hear about this?” 

“Garth,” Dean shook his head as they stalked around the warehouse looking for more vamps. 

Sam met up with them as they continued to behead vamp after vamp. After about an hour of hunting, it was deemed that the warehouse was cleaned out. Y/N made her way to her Pontiac, wiping her machete and putting it away. She could feel Dean’s eyes on her. She turned around and smiled. 

“Celebratory drinks at the nearby dive bar?” Y/N turned around. 

“Sounds good,” Dean agreed. 

For the past few months, Y/N had kept her distance from Dean. she could feel the effect he had on her. She was catching feelings. She didn’t like feelings. The relationship between her mother and Nikki proved that love was nothing but a myth.

Dean watched as Y/N knocked back shot after shot of Jack Daniels. He could see the pain in her eyes. There was something going on. 

"You, okay?" He leaned over the bar top as he knocked back his own shot. 

“Peachy,” she rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck. “My stupid sperm donor won’t stop calling.” 

“Your dad?” Dean asked. 

“Sperm Donor,” Y/N amended. “He will never be my Dad. No matter how many times he says he’s sorry or he tries to buy his way into my life.” 

“What if he’s really sorry?” Dean hated seeing her in pain. He could tell that she really wanted a relationship with her father, even if she was being stubborn about it. 

“Too little, too late,” she huffed. “My mother is dead. And all she ever talked about was him and how good he was before the drugs. But I never believed her. He could have stayed clean for her, could have tried to be better. But he found a new pussy to fuck with new kids and I was just a bastard burden to him.” 

Dean stayed silent letting her vent. He had half a mind to find out who her dad was and just knock his teeth in. It didn’t take long for Y/N to develop a good buzz. She joked with Dean and changed the subject to hunting. They were retelling their favorite hunts, one of which landed Y/N in a hospital where her uncles all visited. 

“I have a very nice jagged scar on my side from that one.” She laughed. 

“Might have to see that one later,” Dean whispered in her ear. 

"Not tonight cowboy," she shrugged him off. "We've been getting a little too close to my liking.” 

“I--” Dean opened and closed his mouth as he watched her walk away towards the pool tables. 

Dean frowned as he watched her from the bar. He watched as she flirted and moved her hips almost leaning into a douchebags touch. His jaw clenched and he watched as she leaned in and whispered something in his ear before walking away, heading to the restrooms. Slamming his latest shot down he walked over to the guy and shook his head. 

“Hey man, you sure you want to tap that girl that was just here?” He nodded to the man. 

“You mean hottie with the body?” he smirked. “Yeah, man I mean she has a great set of tits and a nice ass. I mean you would hit that right?” 

“Well,” Dean hissed and leaned back looking around for Y/N before he motioned for douche to lean forward. “Girl is a type 1 clingy bitch. Took me a good month and a half to get rid of her. I mean she was relentless. Don’t get me wrong,” he gave a sly smile. “She was great with a dick stuffed in her. But she was too clingy for my taste.” 

“Pussy is pussy,” he shrugged as he looked at Dean. “I can handle a clingy girl. But she didn’t really seem like the clingy type.”  

“Hey man I was just warning you,” Dean held up his hands and looked around. “But, honestly,” he pointed to a blond girl in the corner, “she looks like she is going to give you the best time of your life.” 

Dean smiled when Douche took a sip of his beer and made his way towards the blond he pointed out. With a satisfied smile, he turned only to be met with a fist to the face. 

“I’m Clingy?!” Y/N growled. “Who the fuck do you think you are?!” 

“Come on, Y/N,” Dean rubbed his jaw. “Guy was a grade-A frat boy douche.” 

“And? What’s your point?”  She sighed. “Dean, I think we should cut the benefits out of the friends with benefits. If anyone is getting clingy here…” She shook her head sadly, “It’s you.” 

With that, she grabbed her leather jacket from one of the chairs and made her way out to her Pontiac. She had just touched the handle to the driver’s side door when her phone began to ring. 

“You got Y/N,” she sighed as she rubbed her eyes. 

"Y/N," her brother sounded scared. 

Rolling her eyes, she took in a deep breath, "this better be good." 

"Dad's in the hospital, Y/N," he rushed out. 

"Did he overdose on something? Because I honestly--" 

"He fell down the stairs," he sounded really scared. "He said he was hearing weird noises and it got cold. All of a side he said he felt hands behind his back and next thing, he was falling down the stairs and hurt his shoulder." 

“I’ll be there as quick as I can,” she breathed. 

If something was haunting her dad, she had to make sure her family was safe. Even if she hated him, she never wanted anything supernatural to get to him. 

It wasn’t in her nature. 

Driving down the highway she barreled through and forced herself to drive all day and night. When she reached San Jose, she made her way to the large estate Nikki Sixx had purchased. Punching in the code her dad had sent her a while ago, she drove up the driveway and parked in front of the door where Gunner was waiting. 

“Okay,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “You need to tell me everything that happened. I need to know if anything was bought at an auction or antique store. Or if it was something given by a family friend.” 

“Y/N, Dad doesn’t know about the other stuff you do, right?” Gunner looked to his older sister. He and storm were the only ones who knew about what Y/N did. 

It was one of the only secrets they shared. But even then, Y/N would never forgive them for how they continued to treat her. Even after saving them from the things that went bump in the night.

“No,” she breathed, “And he’s not going to, and neither are Deker and Frankie.” She pulled out her emf reader and looked at Gunner. 

“Where did he fall?” she made her way inside and towards the staircase. 

“Don’t you want to rest?” Gunner blocked her from moving forward. 

“I’m fine,” she brushed him off. “I’m not here as your sister. In fact, I’m not your sister I’m a hunter. I hunt things, things that give you nightmares so stop trying to be nice.” 

“Y/N,” Gunner looked at her sadly. “We were kids, and mom, my mom, was well she --” 

“Save it,” Y/N ignored him as she pulled out her EMF reader. 

She never noticed Gunner reaching into his pocket for something.  She pulled at the antenna and turned it on. The needle was going haywire with the reader picking up all sorts of activity. She raised her eyebrow at that. There was no way a perfectly good house, with no prior history would have EMF readings like this. 

“Where was Nikki when he said he felt the hands on his back?” She looked at Gunner. 

“It was around here,” he muttered as he watched her work. 

His big sister, who had scared off a monster when he was young. Who endured every nasty thing his mother had spewed about her, and now that he was older, he felt bad for how he treated her. Y/N had lost so much and had seen their father at his worst. He could see the pain in her eyes as she fought against his advances to apologize. He watched as Y/N sighed and shook her head. 

“I need to talk to Nikki about what he felt.” She rubbed at her temples. “Is there anything else you can think of? I mean I know you don’t live here but, have you felt any cold spots? Or heard any strange noises?” 

“I think Dad said he heard a low groan and the temperature suddenly dropped.” Gunner found something on the floor really interesting.   

“Right,” Y/N sighed and grabbed her keys. “What Hospital is he at?” 

“He’s at Cedar-Sinai,” Gunner rubbed the back of his neck. Hoping his plan was working. 

“Okay, I will head over there and talk to him about what happened.” She looked at the time. She had been up for almost twenty-four hours. 

Heading to her car she drove towards the hospital, showing her ID and was shown to his room. She ignored the guilt that was creeping up inside her for keeping him at arm’s length. She saw him there hooked up to the monitor. His shoulder in a sling. He looks older than she remembered. He was asleep when she came in and his current fling Courtney offered her a small smile. She tried to be friends with Y/N. But Y/N kept her distance. She had gone through this dance before. 

“I came to talk to him about what happened,” she whispered to Courtney. “I can come back when--” 

“Y/N?” Nikki’s voice sounded surprised that she was there. “How did you know I was here?” 

“Gunner called me,” she left it at that. “I can come back. I just came to ask you some questions Nik and then I’ll be out of your hair.” 

Courtney took that as her cue to leave father and daughter alone. Y/N walked around the room, her EMF reader secretly hidden. But there were no readings. 

“So,” She took in a deep breath. “Was the house built on an ancient burial ground that you don't know about?” 

“What?” Nikki tried to sit up and hissed. “What’s with the questions?” 

“Just humor me,” Y/N sighed. “Did you notice any cold spots around the stairs? Any weird noises? Or just strange occurrences?” 

“Y/N, what are all these questions about?” Nikki looked at his daughter. “Y/N, are you okay? Are you in trouble?” 

“Just answer the questions please,” Y/N rubbed at her temples. There was something wrong here. This wasn’t your typical haunting. 

“This is a shoulder injury that I had to correct,” Nikki sighed. “I bought the house, and I can tell you that it’s not on a burial ground. Y/N are you okay? Are you in trouble?” 

“So, wait,” Y/N clenched her jaw, “This was a planned surgery?” 

“Yeah,” Nikki reached for the cup of water. “I postponed it so I could finish the tour and then get it fixed.”  

“I’m going to kill Gunner,” she muttered. “Glad you’re alive Nik, sorry to be a burden… again.” she turned to leave ignoring Nikki’s cries to get back into the room. 

“Y/N wait,” He called after her. 

Pushing the Pontiac to rush back to the house, Y/N was ready to punch Gunner repeatedly. As she neared the house, she parked her car and stormed in. pulling out her EMF she turned it on noticing that the house was showing no signs of a haunting. Y/N looked around the house, it was completely empty. She looked from room to room, using the EMF reader to try and find anything. There was nothing. That is until she made her way to Gunner’s room. Opening the door, she gave a low angry growl. There on his bed was an EMF generator. 

Taking the machine in her hands she walked down the stairs and sat on the couch. The device on the coffee table as she waited for Gunner. She wasn't sure how long she was waiting seething before Gunner made his appearance.   

“So, Nikki was pushed by a ghost, huh?” She growled.

“Y/N, I can explain--” he began.

“That was such a low fucking blow,” she hissed. “I should have known that you would pull something like this. Not like I haven’t been humiliated by you and the others enough.”  Grabbing the EMF generator Y/N lifted it above her head before smashing it on the floor. “Don’t call me ever again.” 

“I just wanted to fix everything I did!” Gunner chased after her, “Damn it, you’re my big sister and I know that there are real monsters out there.” He called out as she reached the door, “I remember you saving me from one! Y/N? Y/N please, Dad wants you in his life, he’s always wanted you in his life.”  

Y/N ignored Gunner calling after her as she tossed her bag in the bag and cursed. It would be a five-hour drive to get to her apartment on the strip. Taking a deep breath, she made her way down the familiar road and towards a motel. All the while she never noticed the black Impala that had followed her. Pulling up to the office she grabbed a room and made her way to it. 

Dean watched as she closed her door before taking a deep breath and exiting his car. Walking to her door he lifted his fist and knocked. He knew what he did to her back at the dive bar was shitty, but he had to make sure she was okay. He gasped when she opened the door and glared at him. 

“Sorry,” She sneered. “I thought I was clingy. But it looks like you’re the one who can’t let go.” 

“I’m sorry,” Dean breathed. “You’re right. I should respect that you don’t want commitment. Hell, the life we live is not easy Y/N. And I’ll stay away if you really want me to.”  

Y/N sighed, “Just… let’s stick to just being friends.” 

“I--” Dean nodded and placed his hands in his pockets. “I guess we can be friends.” 

“Come on,” Y/N sighed as she opened the door wide. “We can watch some Dr. Sexy episodes and drink some whiskey, order pizza…” 

Dean smiled, “Yeah, We can. So, you got the room for the night?” 

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Idiot guy tried to trick people into thinking a house was haunted. Came to check it out.” 

“Man, I hate when it’s a waste of a trip,” Dean took the second bed and stretched out. 

“What can we do,” Y/N shrugged. “People are morons.” 

Dean smiled at her as they settled on to their beds and hung out in the dusty motel room. Dean realized that while he would love nothing more than to hold and kiss Y/N, he would rather be her friend and have her in his life than not at all.

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[ariainstars]

Star Wars, the Last 20 Years or Can We Please Try to Stop the Blame Train?

I would like to touch a subject that’s starting to grate on my nerves a little.

Anyone here knows that I disliked The Rise of Skywalker heartily. And I’m not the only person here or elsewhere who tore it to shreds. But I am reading (again) over and over why and how JJ Abrams, Chris Terrio, Kathleen Kennedy and Co. made this mess. Instead of searching for culprits, this time I would like to point out a few things.

I. Star Wars Prequels

Jake Lloyd, Ahmed Best and Hayden Christensen had to endure awful harassment in their time: the audience largely vented their frustration on them because when the prequels hit theatres, they did not get the Star Wars they had wanted. Politics are a dry subject, and young Anakin and the Jedi Council were all too human to be liked by fans who expect coolness in a hero more than everything else; which is probably why Darth Maul is a huge favorite although we hardly learn anything about him and he says almost nothing. Ditto Obi-Wan although he is clearly not suited to train Anakin and it’s him who maims him and leaves him to burn in the lava. (Until I saw the film, I had always assumed Palpatine had tortured Anakin to push him to the Dark Side.) 

The prequels’ messages in general were not liked: the Jedi were not perfectly wise and cool wizards, the Old Republic was stagnant, Anakin was a hot-headed, frustrated young man desperate to save his wife and unborn children. The films do not want to excuse what he did; however they portray him not as a monster but as a human being who was under an almost unendurable pressure for years and years until he finally snapped.

These messages may not be “cool”, but they were realistic and most of all, humane. Portraying the Jedi as well as Anakin as powerful, flawless heroes and the old Republic as a just, prosperous and balanced place would have meant undermining a central theme of the original trilogy: the former generation could not have been all that powerful and wise, else the collapse of their world and the failure of their convictions would not have happened in the first place. It is a sore point, but still twenty years later Obi-Wan and Yoda denied that Vader was human and expected Luke to commit patricide. 

All of this goes to show that the Jedi’s moral standard was flawed and their attitude not rooted in compassion and pacifism the way they claimed. In the end, what they cared about was winning, no matter the cost. In this, they were no better than the Sith.

~~~more under the cut~~~

II. Star Wars Sequels

J.J. Abrams, Kathleen Kennedy, Bob Iger and company were the ones who introduced the Star Wars sequel trilogy and with it its themes, characters, setting etc. to us in the first place: I think we should give them credit where it’s due. Rian Johnson made a very beautiful second chapter with The Last Jedi, but he did pick up where the others had left. 

Kelly Marie Tran made experiences similar to Jake Lloyds or Hayden Christensen’s when The Last Jedi was hit theatres. She was disliked for not being “Star-Wars-y” enough, chubby and lively instead of wiry and spitfire, and also taking a lot of screen time while many fans were impatiently waiting for some grand scenes from Luke and / or Leia. 

That Episode VIII, the central and most important one, was called “The Last Jedi” cannot be overstated. Luke was literally alone with the heavy task of rebuilding a religious order that was gone and destroyed long before he even learned about it, and at the same time he had to patch together his own family and atone for his father’s sins. This is a crushing burden for anyone to carry. It was important both for Rey and for the audience to meet Luke to see that he was a good man, but still just a man.

When Luke spoke openly to Rey about the failure of the Jedi Order, it was the first time he ever spoke about it that we know of; this wisdom he obviously acquired only after his nephew’s fall to the Dark Side. Luke has understood that the ways of the Jedi were wrong; but he does not know a better alternative. Force users are still born all over the galaxy, and they have to learn to use their powers - only how? Again, Luke is not to blame. How is he to know, when the Jedi of the Old Republic had lost sight of Balance in the Force for so long that they didn’t know what it actually meant anymore? 

Same goes for Leia, the princess without a realm, who tried to rebuild the Republic after the galaxy had been terrorized by the Empire and devastated by war for many years. She assuredly did her best, but she was only human. That she failed her son is of course shocking, but after the horror she had to endure at the hands of her own father it is not surprising that she would be terrified of her son possibly going the same way. Ben, like Anakin, was crushed under a legacy and responsibility that was by far too heavy for him. The tragedy of his life and the disruption - and in the end, obliteration - of his family was another proof for the failure of the ways of the Jedi. 

All of these lessons until now were not learned from. But let’s be honest: how many of us come from dysfunctional families? If we do, was getting away from them enough to heal the wounds of the past? Did we find out what to give our children on their way in life, or did we fail them because we had not elaborated the past enough to make way for a better future? Such problems are very common, and to heal them is complicated and takes time. A “happy ending” e.g. in form of finding a new family is not enough, on the contrary, it can lead to wanting to leave the past behind, leaving wounds unhealed that will fester their way through our lives again, sooner or later. Star Wars always was an allegory of the human mind, even if deeply cloaked in symbolism. The saga also abundantly takes inspiration from the Bible, and I think it’s not coincidentally said there that the sins of the fathers are visited upon the children. 

As fans, we would have wanted to see films that cemented the Jedi as guardians of the galaxy, with the Skywalker family right at the center. Which in itself is impossible because Jedi are supposed to remain unattached, making the mere idea of a Jedi having a family absurd. If the prequels told us that the Jedi were flawed, the sequels tore down the myth of the Skywalker family. And both trilogies showed that you can’t be a Skywalker and / or a Jedi / Force user and have attachments and a happy family of your own at the same time. At least, not until now. 

 III. Film production

Many fans of old complained because the sequel trilogy implied that the “happy ending” of the original trilogy’s heroes had not been so happy after all and that after having made peace for the galaxy, they had failed to keep it that way. Other viewers however liked the new trilogy and new characters right away and began to root for them. But they, too, jumped on the blame train when the trilogy had ended: expectations were not met, and now director, producers, script writers, cutters etc. are faulted all over again.

The first person coming up with the idea of Han’s and Leia’s only child turning to the Dark Side was Lucas himself. It always was a main theme of the saga that war separates people who actually belong together, like family, couples or close friends; that is not played for mere drama, but because it emphasizes the absurdity of war.

We as the audience do not know how production went - it is very possible that Lucas approved the general storyline, and there is always a whole team on board. It is not easy to purchase such a large and immensely popular franchise; it was to be expected that if things went not the way the audience expected, the Disney studios would be blamed harshly for having “ruined Star Wars”. With the prequels, at least Lucas was still at the helm; it was conceded that maybe he had lost his magic touch with storytelling, but certainly not that he was trying deliberately to ruin his own creation. And the fans who could not praise the Disney studios enough after The Last Jedi came out, now blame them over and over.

The Disney studios have long-term politics to consider and contracts to observe, and we don’t know their contents. We have every right to be disappointed, but I think it’s not fair to blame one or a particular group of persons who are trying their best to satisfy as many viewers as possible. If they simply wanted to satisfy the average dudebro who sees nothing but clichés, two-dimensional characters and Good against Evil - then why did they allow The Last Jedi to be produced in the first place? The studios obviously are aware that there are fans out there who are ready to look deeper in the saga’s themes, who wish to see the Force coming to Balance, who value family, friendship and love over “victory at any cost”, and who do not place the Jedi on some kind of pedestal.

In a sense, The Rise of Skywalker seems like a bow before The Last Jedi: the weakest chapter of the saga followed one of its strongest. Maybe the authors were aware that equaling or even topping what Rian Johnson had created would be next to impossible, so they patched up the open threads of The Force Awakens together with some fan service hoping to be out of the business as quickly as possible.

In retrospect, the infamous podcast with Charles Soule might also be tell-tale: Soule obviously is not elbows-deep in the saga and largely ignores its subtext. Since his The Rise of Kylo Ren comics are quite well-made, I assume that the general storyline did not stem from his own creativity and that he only carried out what he had been advised to do. The production of the whole sequel trilogy may have happened in a similar way. I am not excusing the poor choices of The Rise of Skywalker; merely considering that one or a few persons cannot be blamed in a studio that has thousands of creative minds on board.

I am still hoping for the next trilogy to finally bring Balance to the galaxy, and also into the fandom. Rian Johnson had negotiated the rights for the next trilogy along with The Last Jedi; I assume it is very possible that there was a clause about intellectual property saying that only he would continue Episode VIII’s topics, nobody else. This would at least be an explanation, given the embarrassing, jumbled mess that Episode IX was.

The overall title of the saga assuredly never wanted to inspire the audience to start online wars attacking the studios or the actors or other fans out of the conviction of being entitled to blame someone else’s worldview. The saga’s message is compassion. Both George Lucas and the Disney studios are telling us their story; the idea and the rights do not belong to us. Harping on “whose fault” it allegedly is won’t bring us anywhere; what we can do is make the studios understand that we’re not too stupid not to understand the subtext, the symbolism and metaphysics of the saga beyond the action story. If they listened to the Last Jedi haters, in all fairness they are bound to listen to us, too. 😊

  IV. Will Ben’s story continue?

My husband already warned me years ago that Ben most probably wouldn’t survive, or at least not get a happy ending. As Kylo Ren he had already been the head of a criminal organization for six years at the start of The Force Awakens, but all of that perhaps could still have been condoned within the scope of war. It was the very personal and intentional act of patricide, the killing of an unarmed, forgiving man, who turned him into a damned person. And after the deed, Ben was aware of it. He knew there was no way out for him, he had gone too far.

Many members of the audience did not understand that Kylo / Ben is not an out-and-out villain and that this narrative ultimately was about his redemption. Bringing him back to the Resistance after the Exegol battle alive and by Rey’s side would not have been accepted; how was Rey to explain everything when she hardly understood it herself? How would the audience have reacted to the former head of a criminal organization, a patricide, suddenly standing out as a hero? Remember how in Return of the Jedi Luke asked Vader to come away with him. Now suppose Vader had complied? It would have seemed (and been) sheer madness. Nobody would have believed neither father nor son that the terror of the galaxy had had a sudden turn of heart. Nobody knew that he was Luke’s father; Luke himself did not know Anakin’s backstory; nobody knew what had transpired between Luke and Vader so far. Yes, Ben was young and healthy, but he still had terrorized the galaxy for years and killed his own father. He knew himself that he was damned and could not go back to normality, as Vader did.

Rey was coded as the heroine: narratively, the sequel trilogy was her story. Ben couldn’t become the hero, with or without her, at the very last moment. She usurped power like her grandfather in his time, the Skywalker family was obliterated the way the Jedi were, she takes over another mantle (Skywalker) the way Palpatine did (becoming the Emperor). Balance in the Force never was truly in the cards, it was only vaguely hinted at in The Last Jedi by the Force mosaic in the Ahch-To temple. Balance is a complex and difficult subject; it would have been extremely difficult to develop it in the sequel trilogy together with introducing the new characters and giving the old ones closure.

However: if Ben is brought back in the next trilogy, his sacrifice for Rey will have been his atonement. If his role this time is not that of the villain but of the hero, it would reverse Anakin’s path and make clear that he no longer is the same man. Vader was redeemed, not rehabilitated. His grandson might still have the chance to go that way.

- Luke had promised Rey a third lesson, and it happened. He also had promised Ben to “see him around”, which has not taken place yet.

- On Tatooine, Rey watches the twin suns setting, same as Luke before he met the other half of his soul (his twin sister) again.

- The studios had said that the sequels would be “very much like the prequels”; the prequels were a tragedy where the Dark Side (Palpatine) won that was followed by a fairy tale where the Light Side won.

- The Skywalker saga is closed, so if Ben comes back it would be justified by his being a Solo, i.e. the story of his own family and not his grandfather’s.

- Given the parallels with Beauty and the Beast, the Beast died before the broken spell brought him back, making him a wholly new person - his past identity, purged and redeemed.

- George Lucas repeatedly said that the prequels and the classics belong together as one narrative, with Anakin Skywalker at its center. First news of the next trilogy came up with The Last Jedi. Since there are strong parallels between Ben and his grandfather, we may assume that this six-chapter instalment will be his; Anakin also was left for dead but came back with a wholly different role and name.

- When Anakin was reborn as Darth Vader, he “rose” slowly from the ground, clad in his black armor. Ben fell to the ground abruptly and shed his black clothes, disappearing. This could be another clue. (It was also already speculated that Leia’s body dissolved exactly in this moment because she gave her life-force to her son for him to have another chance to live. Both Han and Luke had done what they could to atone for their remorse towards Ben; this might be her turn.)

- Much as I love Luke Skywalker, I can understand that Lucas did not see him as the saga’s protagonist. The overall arch is not so much about Luke’s heroism than about Anakin’s redemption and atonement. It is unusual because we expect the story’s “hero” to be the one who kills the Bad Guy; and indeed Anakin is, because he kills Palpatine in the end, the twist being that technically he is also a villain though not the archvillain.

- Ben had promised Anakin he would finish what he started. Anakin had been meant to bring Balance to the Force, and he had started a family. Until now, Ben did neither.

- If Ben and Rey are a dyad, i.e. one soul in two bodies, then Rey is in urgent need of her soulmate for her future tasks. She has her friends of course, but none of them gets her the way he did.

So, I still see reason to hope for a continuation, and, hopefully, satisfying conclusion of The Last Jedi’s themes.

  Film production: on a side note…

In the Nineties, Kirk Wise and Gary Trousdale were the directors both of Beauty and the Beast and Atlantis: two more different stories are hardly imaginable with regard to everything - drawing style, setting, characters, development, music etc. This outcome can’t have been only due to the director’s choices, there must have been a wholly different idea behind both films right from the beginning. Just saying.